Hot Pursuit (13 page)

“Hell if I know.” He took her sandy hand between his. “You're right, it's none of my business, but here's what I think. Mothers don't give away their children easily or without reasons. The problem is, you may never know those reasons. That's going to be hard to live with.”

She swallowed as he traced a line through the sand on her palm. “I feel so . . . stupid about this. So childish. It happened years ago.”

“You
are
a child, at least where your parents are concerned. Maybe you need to listen to what that child is telling you right now.”

She managed a faint smile. “What, no brisk orders? No snappy value judgments? Just gentle advice?”

Jack pulled her to her feet. “Stick around. The day's not over yet.”

Taylor rose onto her toes and kissed him. “That was rude of me. I apologize.”

“Never apologize for telling the truth.” Jack looked over her shoulder, frowning. “Did you have any particular plans for those red sneakers of yours?”

“Why?”

“Because at the moment they're floating away into the surf.”

Taylor spun around, soaking them both as she lunged after her shoes and caught them just before the tide swept them out of reach. She laughed when she saw the water on the front of his shirt. Without a pause, she splashed him again, then darted away over the sand.

Jack watched her clutch her wet sneakers, laughing breathlessly, her hair a dozen bright colors in the sunlight, her laugh reckless and far too infectious for the hardened, by-the-book professional he always had been and always would be. “Let's go.”

She stopped running and frowned at him. “What's wrong? There was something in your face just now—something hard.”

“Must be your overdeveloped writer's imagination at work.” Jack cursed the ease with which she drew out emotions he wasn't supposed to feel. He grabbed her arm, tugging her up the beach, but he hadn't taken two steps when the fine hairs rose on the back of his neck.

She pulled against his grip, her body tense. “Jack, what is it?”

To lie or not to lie?
“I'm not sure,” he said quietly. “But I think we're being watched.”

She moved closer. Her hand found its way into his. “Where?”

“No, don't look. Just put your arms around me. Do it right now.” He felt her slim, strong body pressed against his and scowled at the instant stab of desire. As he drew her closer, he scanned the beach, looking for any faces seen too often or too close.

Nothing. Everything seemed normal. But the prickle of warning didn't leave as they jogged over the sand back to the car.

“What now?” Taylor stared at him.

“We're going for a drive—and I'll take the wheel.”

She nodded slowly and handed him the keys. “So you can watch for pursuit cars. In that case, take Sunset Drive to Pebble Beach.”

Jack's eyes narrowed. “17 Mile Drive? Good idea. The route's narrow and winding. We can slip off and see who's behind us.”

 

Fifteen minutes later they were looping through some of the most beautiful real estate in the country, while the Pacific bubbled and surged just beneath them. Jack kept glancing into the rearview mirror, where a fury of sea spray and whitecaps churned behind them.

“There's the picnic turnoff near Cypress Point.” Taylor pointed along the rugged road in front of them. “Pull over there and you can see for several miles.”

Jack took the turn, nosed in next to a camper, and motioned Taylor to a table while they watched the traffic behind them.

A minivan sped by, followed by a pool maintenance truck. Neither turned off, nor did the dusty black sedan that followed. Jack kept his vigil for ten minutes, then stood up. “That should be long enough. Now let's see who comes after us.”

As they wound along the wave-swept headlands, a dusty sedan turned out of the visitors' parking area at one of the pricey golf resorts.

“Isn't that interesting?” Jack nudged the Wrangler faster.

The sedan speeded up, too.

Taylor already had pen and paper in hand. “I've got his plate number. A friend at the DMV can run a name check for me.”

“Let's be sure he's really on us first.”

Ten more minutes of leisurely stops and winding detours proved what he had suspected: their unknown friend in the dusty Lincoln Town Car wasn't going away.

Taylor was looking a little pale when they exited the drive near Carmel Gate. “Aren't you going to stop him?”

Jack shook his head. Keeping a low profile was a mission priority. Like it or not, he had to leave the rest to Izzy and his team. “I want to see how persistent our friend is.”

“Try Pacific Grove. We can do some window shopping and see if he tags along.”

Since her plan was as good as any he had, they parked, and then strolled past antique dealers, bookstores, and a crowded farmers' market. Despite constant checking, Jack saw no suspicious lurkers or familiar faces. But Taylor was looking strained, so he pulled her onto a bench angled toward the route they had just walked along.

Why are we stopping?”

“Because you need a break.”

Taylor frowned. “And because you need to check the street behind us.”

“That, too. After a few more minutes, I'll make some calls.”

She didn't look completely convinced, but she pulled off one sneaker and brushed sand from her foot, then closed her eyes, soaking up the sunlight.

When Jack finished checking the street, he turned back.

Taylor was staring at the traffic, one hand shading her eyes. “I don't believe it. What are they doing here?”

“Who?”

Taylor's eyes were locked on the slow-moving traffic. “Sam is with her, too. I'm not ready for this.”

Jack studied the nearby pedestrians. “Ready for what?”

A woman called out, and he stood up, automatically shielding Taylor. Two people hurried toward them, waving their hands. Abruptly, the details from his mission briefing kicked in.

The pregnant, smiling woman was Taylor's sister. The big man beside her, sizing Jack up carefully, was her husband, a highly decorated Navy SEAL named Sam McKade.

Chapter Thirteen

FROM TAYLOR'S BOOK OF RULES:
Remember who brought you.

Hell.

Could the day possibly get any worse?

Jack schooled his face to amiable surprise as he watched Taylor wrapped in her sister's excited hug. After several rapid-fire questions, Taylor gave her brother-in-law a quick kiss, then turned to make introductions. Jack knew that this was a meeting she dreaded, and he saw hints of awkwardness in her eyes. The meeting left him edgy, too, since the real reason for his involvement with Taylor had to remain a secret.

But Sam McKade didn't look like the sort of man you could fool for long, especially since he was the one who had wrangled Navy protection for his sister-in-law—until Rains was in jail or cleared.

As Jack waited politely for Taylor to finish her introductions, he knew he was being sized up. Sam McKade's intense stare also told him that he was going to be grilled thoroughly before the afternoon was over.

Jack gave a casual glance down the busy street, then gestured toward a nearby restaurant. “Why don't we adjourn inside?”

“Sounds good to me.” Annie McKade winced as she rubbed her stomach, full and rounded in her eighth month of pregnancy. “I'd enjoy getting off my feet for a few minutes.”

Instantly Sam had an arm around her waist, steadying her. “Is your back bothering you again? Should I call the doctor?”

“I'll be fine, Sam. I need a little break, not a wheelchair to the delivery room. I've got a month to go, remember?”

“You're sure?
Really
sure?”

“Relax, big guy.” Annie gave her husband a loving pat on the cheek. “I won't go into labor while your back is turned, okay?”

Sam McKade took a deep breath and managed to smile. “You just keep promising, honey, and I'll keep trying to believe it.” He smoothed her hair, then shot a glance at Taylor. “She insisted on coming. It's her volunteer day.”

“Don't tell me. The Butterfly Sanctuary.”

“Hey, it's an important job,” Annie protested. “Somebody's got to see that those beautiful creatures have a safe refuge after flying two thousand miles in four weeks. There are only a few microclimates in North America that will support them. If those habitats are lost, we'll lose their beauty forever.”

“Whoa,” Taylor cut in. “Nobody's going to attack your monarchs, Annie. We just want to be sure
you're
in good shape, too.”

“I'm fine,” Annie said firmly, smiling at Jack as he held open the door to the restaurant. “I'd love some hot and sour soup. Maybe some sesame noodles. One or two fried dumplings, too.” Before the men could sit down, she took Taylor's arm. “But first things first.” The two headed off toward the bathroom, leaving Jack and Sam to stare warily at each other.

“So, have you known Taylor long, Mr. Broussard?”

“About a week. And call me Jack.”

“Fair enough. The name's Sam. Are you a writer, too?”

“Not me. You'd have to shoot me to squeeze out a page of text. I do investigations in the Bay area.”

“Private work?”

Jack nodded, glad to be interrupted by the arrival of a waiter with tea. Where were the women anyway? Couldn't they gossip some other time?

“What kind of investigations do you handle?”

“You name it,” Jack lied. “Asset searches, missing persons, background checks. Also a little corporate work now and again because the pay is good.”

Sam leaned back and gave him a hard stare. “We both know that's a crock. You're the man Izzy told me about.”

“That's right.” Jack decided it was time to take the offensive. “Is there a problem with that?”

Sam met his gaze squarely. “There could be if you make one.”

“This is strictly a friendly outing. We're not reenacting
Romeo and Juliet
as far as I know.”

For long moments, Sam McKade didn't answer. He turned his teacup thoughtfully. “Taylor's had some trouble recently. Did you know about that?”

“I know she had a climbing fall and was damned lucky to escape with stitches.”

Sam met him with a cool stare. “I don't want anything to happen to her.”

“Neither do I.” Jack looked up, relieved to feel a hand on his shoulder.

Taylor was frowning at him. “Why are you two glaring at each other like hungry pit bulls?”

“Just having a little chat, weren't we, Jack?” Sam's smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

No wonder the man had a reputation as a tough operator.

Jack smiled back. “That's right. Nothing special. What do you want to eat, Taylor?”

She glanced from one man to the other, then sighed. “Gee, I could have sworn I smelled testosterone burning over here. Must have been my imagination.” She glanced at the menu. “I'll go with Annie. Soup and noodles.” The waiter had returned, and Taylor smiled at him. “No, wait, let me see if I can do this.” She delivered a phrase of halting Cantonese, then waited for a response from the astonished waiter.

Jack cleared his throat, and murmured a few phrases that made the waiter laugh and trot toward the kitchen.

“What's wrong?” Taylor demanded. “I told him it was a special occasion and I wanted to celebrate with my sister.”

“Actually, you just told the waiter that he was a drunken pig and his children's children would be born without noses.”

Taylor winced. “I studied some Cantonese while I was in Hong Kong researching a book. Funny, I never could get the tones right.”

“It's okay. I told him you picked up your Cantonese in Shanghai. Everyone knows they can't speak Cantonese worth a damn up there.”

“Spent some time in Asia, have you?” The wariness was back in Sam McKade's face.

“Off and on. My father was stationed in Asia in the Navy. I get back for an occasional visit.” Calmly, Jack poured tea for Taylor. “I ordered a few other things, in case you want to be a little adventurous.”

Annie studied him as she sipped her tea. “Let's definitely be adventurous. Don't you agree, Sam?”

“You bet.” But his voice was stiff.

 

The meal was fraught with tension. Only Annie seemed to enjoy her food, grilling Jack about how long he'd known Taylor and whether he liked her books, then complimenting his choice of dishes, including prawns dipped in sugar and a vegetarian wonder with black bean sauce.

Finally, Annie sat back with a sigh, put down her napkin, and eyed the two men. “If you two are done playing cat and mouse, maybe we can show Jack the butterfly trees. But I'm going nowhere if you're at his throat, my love.”

So she hadn't missed a thing. Smart lady, Jack thought. He realized that Taylor was laughing behind her napkin. Eventually even Sam joined in.

“Okay, no more interrogation. Let's go take that walk, as long as you really feel up to it.”

Annie gave him a slow, tender kiss. “I'm pregnant, not housebound, remember?”

Sam followed her outside, grinning ruefully, leaving Taylor to study Jack with cool curiosity. “Were you in Asia long?”

“Off and on, just the way I told McKade.”

“Right.” Taylor stuck her tongue in her cheek. “Next you'll be trying to sell me some nice, quiet property near Groom Lake, Nevada.”

Jack frowned. “Groom Lake, as in Area 51? You don't believe those lunatic stories, do you?”

“Don't get me started, ace.” Taylor took Jack's arm. “By the way, I apologize for Sam. He can be a little overprotective.”

Before or after he tore my head off? Jack thought irritably. Though the prospect of a hike down to the Monarch Sanctuary near the beach left him uneasy, he had no plausible reason to object, so he followed Taylor outside, scanning people, traffic, and any construction barriers that could pose hazards. Annie was obviously in excellent shape and kept a brisk pace despite her advanced pregnancy, running through a string of different topics with Taylor. Jack listened idly, tensing when he heard a familiar name.

“Any news from Izzy?” Taylor asked. “Or is he still in the middle of some hush-hush project?”

“He must be, because we haven't heard a word.” Annie frowned. “I hope nothing's wrong.”

“Don't worry about Izzy. The man has got to be the king of survivors. We'll hear from him when he's ready, not a second before,” Sam said dryly.

Suddenly Annie gripped her husband's arm. “Look—there they
are
.”

They stood unmoving, arrested by the sight of thousands of orange-and-black wings fluttering on the trees. It was almost impossible to imagine that these fragile creatures covered a hundred miles a day, reaching heights of ten thousand feet. Jack could see why Annie called them small miracles.

Annie called out to a docent shepherding a group of European visitors along a shady path. When she and Sam wandered over for a chat, Jack took the opportunity for another covert surveillance of the grove and its surrounding walkways.

Down the street, a garbage truck took on a load. Two bicyclists stopped to enjoy the view. Mothers strolled with children, while teenagers maneuvered skateboards along the adjacent sidewalk. There were too many ways in and out, Jack thought tensely.

The garbage truck lumbered away and silence returned, sunlight filtering rich and green through the canopy. He tried to relax, but the little warning prickle was back, sharper than ever.

Taylor walked over to Sam and gestured at a cloud of butterflies drifting over the flowering bushes. Jack edged in closer, one eye on the German tourists scattered along the path. When a new group of tourists headed up the sidewalk, he decided it was time to pull Taylor away. The place was too crowded. Once they were in the car, he'd make up some story about a forgotten appointment and apologize.

Sam and Taylor turned to stare at a butterfly that fluttered down and settled on Annie's shoulder, vivid in a bar of afternoon sunlight. The image was so arresting that neither one heard the low
whirring
from a shadowed walkway as a riderless skateboard rumbled over the sidewalk, heading straight toward Annie.

With a shout, Jack sprinted forward, jumping a wrought-iron fence. He heard Sam shout a belated warning to his wife, but in the next second the big board struck Annie hard at the ankles and she cried out, swaying sideways with arms outstretched.

Jack kicked hard and dove.