Blue Blooded (11 page)

Joe removed the lock and swung open the doors of the barn to reveal a Jeep inside. She and Logan were about to follow when Joe held up his hand to halt them. “You're not coming with me.”

“W
HAT
?”
SHE ASKED
. “You're going to leave us here for the FBI?” With a wave of her arm, she motioned to the estuary. “And the gators?”

“No.” He pointed to a cluster of bushes. “Right behind the red mangroves over there, you'll find a fan boat. Head west and keep going until you see a bunch of small buildings. That'll be the town. Dock the boat over there and find the purple house in town. Ask for Morrie. Tell him I sent you and you need the truck. While you're doing all that, I'll be taking the FBI on a wild-goose chase. By the time they catch up with me, you'll be long gone.”

Logan shook his head vehemently at Joe's attempt to hand him one of the bags he'd taken from the house. “No. I can't ask you to do that for us. There's got to be another way.”

Joe grabbed Logan by the shoulders. “You just figure out who's behind this setup and don't worry about me. I'm sure I can keep them up to their eyeballs in paperwork while they try to figure out how a dead man has aided and abetted two criminals.”

As soon as the words
dead man
left his mouth, she realized how the FBI had found them. She bit her lip, hating she was about to burst the man's bubble. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think they already know you're alive.”

Joe released Logan and narrowed his gaze on her. “Why would you think that?”

Her ability to string together facts to come to the right conclusion was one of her strongest attributes. “It's the only thing that makes sense. Once they got the tip from Walter's previous owner about our location, the FBI probably checked to see if Logan had any contacts in Florida.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Joe. Apparently, the FBI already knew where to find you before we got here.”

The men froze. She transferred her weight from foot to foot, watching Joe's puzzled expression as he processed her theory.

Laughing, he pounded Logan's back. “You've got yourself a smart one, Logan. Don't fuck it up.” He jutted his chin toward Walter. “Morrie just lost his dog. Might want to consider giving him Walter. The man could use a companion.” On a salute, he climbed into his truck and slammed the door shut. The engine roared to life and he drove off, waving his hand out the window as he headed back toward the direction of the house.

She and Logan started for the boat that was allegedly hidden behind the bushes. What if they couldn't get it working? They'd be stuck here in the middle of a swamp.

“Know how to drive a fan boat?” she asked, trying to get her mind off the danger hiding all around them.

“No, but I have a feeling I'm about to learn unless you've got some experience with them.”

She puffed out a breath. “Closest experience I've got is a canoe in summer camp. You're military. They must have trained you for things like this.”

“Sorry. There weren't many opportunities to go boating where I was stationed. But unlike you, I've driven a boat with a motor before. Fan boats can't be too different from a pontoon, right?” he said teasingly.

Rounding the other side of the bush, she got her first sight of what Joe had left them to use as their getaway vehicle and stopped in her tracks. The boat looked like a tin can sliced in half with a huge fan stuck on the back. There were only two rows, each wide enough to accommodate one person.

The boat tipped as Logan stepped onto it with Walter tucked under his arm like a football. In her mind, she saw herself falling into the open mouth of a waiting alligator.

No way was she riding that thing.

Logan set Walter down and held out his hand to her. “Hop on.”

“No, I think I'm going to find another way to get out of here.”

“Rachel, there's no other way.” His voice softened. “Trust me.”

She must be out of her mind to trust him after he'd practically accused her of inviting the FBI to find them, but when he used that voice on her, she couldn't resist. She did trust him to keep her physically safe.

Emotionally was a whole other matter and one she didn't have time to explore at the moment.

“Fine,” she said, taking a deep breath as he helped her onto the boat. She sat in the front, taking Walter from Logan and putting the dog on her lap.

Logan unknotted the rope anchoring the boat and dropped it in the back before getting behind the wheel. “This should be easy. It's just like a car.” He handed her a pair of headphones. “I think we're supposed to wear these.” After they placed them over their ears, he turned the key and put the boat into drive.

They started out slowly, gliding on the water with little noise. The boat rocked slightly from side to side, making it clear to Rachel it was a good thing she hadn't eaten breakfast this morning. The sun was high in the sky, the heat and mugginess increasing as they ventured farther into the swamp. She couldn't identify any of the foliage, but the beauty and splendor of it all was breathtaking. Some trees grew out of the water, the branches winding together to create platforms with wild grass growing out of them, while other trees shaded them with their hanging limbs.

Similar to the ones she heard last night on the drive to Joe's, all sorts of noises, from chirps and whistles to splashes and knocking, came from deep inside the swamp. But these were amplified by the fact they were now
in
the swamp rather than driving beside it in the safety of their car. Her heart had barely slowed from their dramatic exit down the tunnel and now it was racing again from all the unknowns hiding within the wetlands.

As they cleared the constricted passageway, they came to a body of water resembling a small lake. Before she could relax, Logan hit the gas and the boat began to speed away, the wind smacking her cheeks and blowing her hair in all directions.

Walter sat up, bliss on his scrunched face and his jowls flapping. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget the past thirty-six hours and the fact they were currently speeding away from the FBI. She tipped her head back and laughed, enjoying the sensation of flying above the water and the slight bumps as they landed. The fan was loud, blocking out the earlier swamp noises. Pelicans flew overhead, their wings spanned out as they dived through the blue sky and into the sparkling water before flying off again with fish in their beaks.

If they'd been down here on vacation, she might be able to fully immerse herself in the experience, ask him to explore the various wildlife and plant life in the Everglades. But who was she kidding? She didn't take vacations, and if she did, she certainly wouldn't be on vacation with Logan.

After confiding in him about her parents, she'd stupidly thought they had made some kind of connection, and because of it, she'd trusted him with her submission. For the first time in her life, she'd allowed herself to be vulnerable with a man, and at the first opportunity he'd proved to her that nothing that happened between them in the past twenty-four hours meant anything at all.

As she'd overheard him say to Joe, they were just making the best out of a bad situation.

Even though she was angry with him, she still trusted him to protect her. Logan was one of the good guys. That much was clear. He'd defend her with his life. And she would count on him to help her get out of this mess. But he couldn't hold her to the agreement to submit to him, and after the way he'd so casually disregarded her feelings, she wouldn't be so quick to do it again. She wasn't a doormat, and she wouldn't allow him to treat her as one.

A realization struck as they zipped across the lake toward the buildings Joe had referred to. Earlier she'd been looking at Rinaldi's murder from the wrong angle. The dead mobster wasn't the story. She and Logan were. The press was already creating a buzz, but she had something they didn't. Inside information of what it was like to be framed for murder and chased by the FBI. It was the kind of story every two-bit reporter would give his or her firstborn child to have an exclusive to. When this was all over, she wouldn't sit down with the highest bidder. She'd be the one reporting the story. Not only would she and Logan find a way to prove their innocence in the murder, but she'd also report on what it was like to run for their lives without having the protection of those who had sworn an oath to protect.

This was who she was. An independent career-driven woman who'd do anything for a story. At least that's what Logan and everyone believed. New York was waiting for her, and what better opportunity would she find than the one that had metaphorically fallen in her lap? This story had the possibility of Emmy Awards and Pulitzers.

Nearing the row of buildings, Logan slowed the boat, the whirring of the fan quieting. Now that it was no longer windy, Walter flopped back down onto her lap and rested his head on her knees. They slowly floated to a dock where Logan jumped out and secured the boat to a piling. She dropped Walter onto the wooden planks of the dock and took Logan's hand for help out of the boat.

Running her fingers through her windblown hair, she avoided Logan's eyes and scanned the area, looking for any sign of the FBI or police. Fishing poles in hand, a couple of men sat on the other end of the dock, a six-pack of beer beside them. Beyond that, a line of people stood waiting to get onto a fan boat. A quick glance at the sign on the building told her it was a fan-boat ride business. On the other side was a tackle and bait shop. None of the structures were anything close to purple.

“Are you sure we're in the right place?” she asked Logan as he lifted Walter into his arms.

Logan unzipped his bag and dug through it, retrieving Walter's leash. “No, but I didn't see any other towns, so we'll just have to hope this is it.” He clipped the leash onto the dog's collar and handed it off to her, striding away from the water and hopefully toward the town.

Clearing the buildings, she was surprised to find a vibrant small town with a myriad of stores, houses, and churches. Sweat dripped down between her breasts and her shirt stuck to her back. It had to be at least ninety degrees out. Her mouth watered at the thought of stopping for a bottle of cold water and a breakfast burrito. Was it too early for ice cream? She started walking in the direction of the convenience store, only to be yanked back by Logan.

He pointed in the complete opposite direction. “There's the purple house. Let's go.”

She put her hunger and thirst on the back burner as they crossed the street toward the house. It stuck out from the others, not only because of its color, but also because of the signs warning of the forthcoming apocalypse should anyone trespass onto the property. Hopefully that meant the guy had a sense of humor and wasn't a loon. If he was one of Joe's friends, it could go either way.

They climbed the porch and opened the screen door to knock. She heard some banging inside and then the sound of turning locks. The door creaked open a bit with two chain locks still attached, and a man with curly gray hair and thick glasses peeked out.

“Who are you? Didn't you see the sign?” he asked gruffly.

“Are you Morrie?” she asked softly, trying not to scare the man into shutting the door. He definitely seemed a bit off his rocker.

The man's eyes narrowed. “Who wants to know?”

“Joe sent us,” said Logan. “There's been a situation, and we need a car.”

The man slammed the door. A few seconds later, he removed the chains and opened it fully. “Did they follow you here?”

“No, sir,” Logan answered. “Joe's leading them away from us in his car.”

“Good. Good.” Nodding vehemently, he kept his gaze on his bare feet. “Meet me 'round back,” he whispered before slamming the door in their faces again.

Grinning, Logan turned to her. “Well, he seemed nice.”

She snorted and started down the steps of the porch. “Let's hope he's not leading us to his secret laboratory where he'll take us captive and do experiments on us.”

Logan laughed. “I think we're safe, at least from him.” Meeting her down at the foot of the porch, he pressed his hand on her lower back and leaned to whisper in her ear. “Did I forget to mention you look incredibly sexy wearing my shirt?”

Even though she was boiling from the morning's extreme temperature, the warmth of his hand permeated through the shirt to her overheated skin. Damn him for his sexy talk. She'd already forgotten why she was angry with him.

They walked around the back and found Morrie waiting for them, a rusted old pickup truck beside him. She couldn't imagine that thing would start much less serve as their getaway car.

He slapped the hood a couple of times then held out a set of keys. “Been waiting to get this atrocity out of my backyard ever since Joe left it here ten years ago. 'Course, he comes by to start it up every few days and brings me my groceries. I sure do appreciate his company. He's not dead, is he?”

She stepped closer to him, taking the keys from his hand. “No. He's fine. I'm sure he'll be by your house to see you real soon.”

His gaze fell to Walter. “That's a nice dog you got there.”

She took the leash from Logan and offered it to Morrie. “He's looking for a new home. I don't suppose he could live with you, could he?”

Morrie's eyes glistened and his hands shook as he accepted the leash. “Ever since my dog, Rocky, passed, I've been wanting a new friend. Got bags of dog food and brand-new chew toys that Rocky never got to enjoy.” His voice wavered. “Thank you.”

“No, thank
you
,” she said, looking at Walter wistfully. As much as she had already become attached to Walter, he'd be better off with someone who didn't work long hours . . . or have the FBI in pursuit. “It's too dangerous to take him with us.”

Morrie grabbed her wrist. “They're after you, aren't they?”

She gasped, wondering if he recognized her and Logan from the news. “Who do you mean?”