Accidental Bodyguard (21 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“M
ARSALI
?” C
LAUDIA
STARED
at Jack.

“She's been calling the PA office trying to get in touch with me.” He shook his head.

“Doesn't she have your cell number?”

“Only the one I used on Collins Island.”

Claudia nodded. That made sense. “Did Marsali say what she wanted?”

“She's trying to determine our location. I knew Marsali was all about money, but this...” He shook his head again. “I never expected this from her.”

The earth shifted under Claudia's feet. She reached out to hold on to a tree. “So she's—she's working for Carlos?”

Looking grim, Jack began to pace. “I gave Lola a tag number of a man trying to bluff his way on the ferry. It didn't seem important at the time, but I had her run it down after we left Miami. Turns out it's the same guy who tried to get inside Villa Alma.”

“So Marsali let him on the island.”

Jack nodded. “Somehow they got to her.”

Feeling sick, Claudia sank to the ground. “But she was so nice.”

“She's a con artist, and a good one. That's what they do.”

“But how did she know I'd be on the beach in the middle of the night?”

“That could have been a coincidence. Or they told her where you were.” He shrugged. “She could have watched for you to leave.”

A cold chill traced Claudia's spine. “She could have killed me.”

“That wasn't her job. She's not a hit man.”

“So she's been working for Carlos all along?” Claudia swallowed. “Marsali is one of his Warriors?”

“Probably not. When they realized they couldn't easily access the island, they found the right person to bribe. Dangle enough money in front of Marsali's gorgeous face, and she'll lunge for it with claws extended.”

Nausea churned in Claudia's belly. She sank her head into her hands. Suddenly everything seemed wrong. The forest around her now appeared threatening instead of sheltering. How had this happened? How had she gotten to this place?

Because I'm the world's worst judge of character.

Never, never trust anyone. First Carlos, then Marsali.

What about Jack?

She raised her head to watch him pace, hands on his hips, deep in thought. As if sensing her attention, he paused and knelt before her.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“When will I ever learn?” Claudia murmured.

“What's going on?”

“Carlos was right. You can't trust anyone.”

“Carlos?” Jack's face hardened. “I suppose you're including me in that blanket statement. You don't trust me?”

“I don't know,” she whispered.

“I put my life and career on hold, move you three hundred miles away and you still don't
trust
me?”

“I trusted Carlos, and look what happened.”

“And now you're comparing me to Carlos Romero?”

She looked away from the white-hot fury flaring in his eyes.

“After the intimacies we've shared, you cannot believe I'm working for your ex.”

She swallowed hard, unable to answer. Jack couldn't work for Carlos or she'd already be dead. She was in love with Jack.

But she'd been in love with Carlos, too. Or had she? What she felt for Jack was so very different. So maybe she didn't understand what love was. Maybe she didn't understand anything.

When she didn't respond, Jack rose.

“What are we going to do?” she asked, scrambling to her feet beside him.

“I'm going back to the cabin. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

“Jack, wait.”

He turned and jogged back the way they'd come.

* * *

W
HEN
J
ACK
REACHED
the clearing behind his cabin, he slowed his pace. Breathing hard, he placed his hands on his hips and stopped. The hard run through the forest hadn't helped. He was still pissed.

No, not pissed. Fricking furious.

Claudia couldn't tell a terrorist from a puppy dog. She obviously needed help. Serious help from a good shrink.

How could she equate him with Carlos Romero? The thought of her married to that slick son of a bitch made his skin crawl. He'd seen photographs of the man. Handsome, dark and sophisticated. Jack pushed away a stab of jealousy.

He stared at his cabin. So now what?

She didn't trust him. And now he wasn't sure he trusted her.

But he couldn't leave her unprotected. He'd started this mission so she could provide evidence against Romero—and apparently she intended to testify—so he couldn't send her away.

He could go back to Miami. And why not? The Warriors hadn't found her and probably wouldn't. Claudia and his mom could stay here, and he'd go home.

Too bad Miami no longer felt like home.

When he entered the back door, Irene looked up from her needlework and frowned. “Where's Miss Claudia?”

Wishing he could slam a door shut, Jack motioned with his thumb back out into the woods. “She couldn't keep up.”

Pookie raised her furry head and growled low in her throat, reacting to his tone.

Irene patted the dog to quiet her. “What's gotten into you?”

Jack grunted and moved to the bedroom. He needed to pack. But he wasn't going back to Miami. He couldn't leave Claudia and his mother here alone and unprotected. The Warriors could still pick up Claudia's trail. Yeah, she was a much better shot now, but she'd never been battle tested.

Or so she'd led him to believe. Maybe she was a true blue, card-carrying Warrior for Self Rule.

Jack paused from stuffing clothing into his duffel bag. That didn't make sense. If so, why was she on the run from Romero? Why hadn't the feds charged her, too? Why would she agree to testify?

Jack slung his bag over his shoulder and reentered the living room.

“Where the hell are you going?” Irene asked.

“I'm moving in to the Airstream.”

“Why?”

He didn't answer.

“You and Claudia had a fight, didn't you?”

Jack ignored his mother and exited the cabin. As he stomped up the steps of the travel trailer, Claudia emerged from the tree line, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been about to go look for her.

Their eyes met across the distance. She'd been crying.

He unlocked the Airstream door and entered a frigid living room. As always, he'd left the trailer neat and ready to roll, but he hadn't used this vintage RV in a while, so the interior smelled musty and felt a little damp. He dropped his bag and turned to find Claudia standing in the doorway.

She stepped inside and closed the door.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“I know I've made a mess of things, but please let me explain,” she said.

He advanced on her. “Tell me exactly what I've done to make you doubt me?”

She raised her chin and met his anger head-on. “Nothing. You've been wonderful.”

“Wonderful? You sure don't act like it.”

“Life with Carlos was—difficult. He constantly put me down, made me feel stupid, doubt my own abilities. When I left him, I could barely tell right from wrong.”

Jack turned away. He didn't want to hear the details of her life with another man. He'd been careful not to ask. But maybe he had to know.

“Did he hit you?” he asked over his shoulder.

“He wasn't physically abusive. Just verbally.”

Jack nodded, his fury dying. He knew the type.

“Carlos was a terrible mistake. I'm afraid of making another one.”

He turned back to her. “You mean with me?”

“Yes. Please don't get mad again. I know it doesn't make any sense.”

Jack stared at her tear-streaked face, his anger now simmering at a more manageable level. No, it didn't make any sense, but neither did his actions. He'd gone off on her like a jerk for what reason? He'd always known she had issues with trust.

But her lack of trust in
him
hurt. Hurt badly.

Because he'd allowed her to become important to him. He'd broken every rule and permitted her to get too close. She'd bewitched him, and as a result his judgment was impaired.

And he'd known better.

If he wanted to keep her safe, from now on he needed to keep his distance. No more sex with Claudia. That thought set him off again.

What he needed was a good workout. Too bad he hadn't left any weights here when he moved to Miami, but his old sparring mat was still in the shed.

“I haven't trusted anyone in a long time,” she said. “But I trust you, Jack. Please believe me. I even think—”

“Okay,” he said, interrupting her before he relented and pulled her into his arms. “I forgive you.”

“So we're okay?”

“Sure.”

* * *

C
LAUDIA
STARED
AT
the duffel bag in the middle of the floor. His tone said something different than his words. “So you'll come back to the cabin?”

“No. I think it best that I sleep over here.”

She blinked at the harsh edge to his voice. He didn't sound like he'd forgiven anything.

“Why?” she asked.

“I need to keep my head on straight, Claudia.”

“But you said you forgave me.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he made a noncommittal sound that she interpreted to mean he hadn't really forgiven her. He wanted nothing more to do with her.

“So that's it?” she asked.

“Don't worry,” he said. “I'll see that you get to the courthouse to testify.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“Sure thing.”

“Okay, then,” she said, her voice breaking. She lifted her chin and took a backward step. To think she'd been about to tell Jack she was in love with him.

“Wait,” Jack said.

She froze, waiting to hear what he said, not daring to hope.

“Do you still want self-defense lessons?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice still cracking. She cleared her throat. “If you're willing.”

“Be ready for your first lesson in the morning. Wear comfortable clothing.”

* * *

A
FTER
BREAKFAST
,
WEARING
loose-fitting sweats, Claudia watched with Irene on the concrete deck as Jack rooted around in his overstuffed storage shed. As usual, Irene had elevated her injured foot on a chair.

“What is he looking for?” she asked.

“Not sure. How's your ankle this morning?” Claudia asked.

“Almost good as new,” Irene said. “Just a little tender.”

“You should get an elastic brace from a drugstore and wear it for a while so you don't retwist the joint.”

“Soon as Jack lets me out of prison.”

Jack emerged from the shed carrying a large gray mat. Claudia had seen similar mats in gyms.

“What's he doing with his sparring mat?” Irene asked.

“He agreed to give me self-defense lessons.”

Eyes wide, Irene leveled her gaze on Claudia. “Do you think that's wise, hon? I mean, considering his god-awful mood?”

“What are you talking about?”

“He's bringing out that mat so he can throw you on your cute little butt over and over again. I imagine he'll feel better after, but you'll be black and blue.”

“Jack would never hurt me,” Claudia said. As she spoke the words, she knew it was true. How could she ever have doubted him? No wonder he was so angry. Jack had an inner core of honor that wouldn't allow him to harm her.
My gladiator.

Could she have fallen for two more opposite men? Boy, could she really pick 'em.

And after he dropped her off at the courthouse to testify, she'd never see him again.

Jack also wore a sweatshirt and pants in the early morning chill, but his strength was obvious as he wrestled the huge mat—which from his body language had to be heavy—into the center of his backyard. While admiring his activity, Claudia remembered the biggest reason for her poor choices: she let her hormones do the thinking. But how could she help it? Tall, wide-shouldered and slim-hipped, Jack was one magnificent piece of work.

Why couldn't she fall in love with some nice, boring middle-of-the-road type of guy?
Because I'm an idiot with lousy judgment.

Yet falling in love with Jack wasn't stupid. It was the smartest thing she'd ever done.

After positioning the mat where he wanted it, Jack turned to Claudia and beckoned her forward with his index finger, wearing a huge grin.

“I hope you know what you're getting into,” Irene murmured. “Jack can hold a grudge longer than anyone I've ever met.”

Claudia rose and smoothed suddenly damp hands down her sweats.

Pookie jumped into her master's lap and settled down, ears alert, as if preparing for a show. “Yeah, I agree, Pooks,” Irene said, stroking her pet's fur. “This ought to be interesting.”

With a fluttery sensation in her belly, Claudia walked down the slight incline to where Jack waited with his hands on his hips. She stepped onto the mat and faced him.

Eyeing him warily, she rubbed the back of her neck. “Aren't we supposed to bow?”

Still grinning, Jack leaned over and executed an elaborate bow with a dramatic sweep of his arm. When upright again, he began to circle her.

Claudia shuffled her feet to keep him in sight. What was he doing? Looking for a weak spot? He knew them all.

“What would you do if someone approached and you
knew
they intended you harm?” he asked.

“Pull out my gun.”

“Just pull it out? Not use it?”

“Well, I wouldn't shoot if my attacker ran away.”

“Good. Always avoid violence if possible.” Jack kept circling, his gaze intent on her face. “What if you didn't have a gun?”