Jungle Inferno (23 page)

“I don’t know why we didn’t outsource this,” Brown grumbled. “This isn’t our normal line of work.”

“Tell me about it.” He chewed on the Tums. “I’d rather not try to get into the house.

That’s not our usual line, either. We’ll watch for the right opportunity.” Brown pulled a piece of gum from his pocket, unwrapped it and stuck it in his mouth. “Like I said, if we don’t get arrested first.”

* * * * *

Avoiding the inconvenience of commercial flights, Rick had Ed take him in the chopper to where the two Phoenix Gulfstreams were hangared. One phone call to roust the pilots, half an hour when they got there to make final arrangements and by five a.m.

they were wheels up.

He was not a man given to fidgeting but he couldn’t keep his leg still as he sat strapped into the comfortable chair, or his fingers from drumming on the leather arm.

He hadn’t bothered dragging the steward out of bed so he brewed coffee for himself and the pilots, dragging far more caffeine into his system than he needed.

He had a bad feeling about the whole situation. Whoever Faith Wilding turned out to be, she was apparently someone who’d stepped in a whole pile of shit. He just wished he knew whose pile it was. And where she fitted into the picture.

Was she somehow connected to Mark? He’d never heard him discuss any women in his life, with the exception of some idiot female he insisted on calling Tidbit. He could just imagine what she was like—a buck-toothed tomboy, barely five feet, lugging around a king-sized crush on her hero.

He didn’t like flying blind but he had to talk to her, whoever she was. Last night she’d sounded scared to death, even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it. Something had spooked her and badly. And the tension riding his spine told him it was all part and parcel of this goatfuck.

At the private hangar where they landed, the black SUV he’d called ahead for was waiting. He shook hands with the man who’d delivered it, told the pilot to be on standby and tore out of the exit. He had an uncomfortable feeling that speed was definitely called for.

* * * * *

Faith was awake at five o’clock, too restless to sleep. She dressed hastily in slacks and a silk shirt, pulling her hair back into a clip at the nape of her neck but forewent makeup. She was too nervous to bother with it. Anyway, it wasn’t as if she was going on a date.

She made coffee, a rarity for her, then paced while she drank most of the pot, giving herself a caffeine high that she didn’t need. She tried reading through Tia’s notes again but her mind refused to settle down. She couldn’t seem to find enough to occupy herself. Time seemed to have weights on its feet, dragging so slowly it felt as if days had passed rather than minutes.

Tia finally dumped the dregs in the coffee pot and brewed some chai tea for both of them, forcing Faith to sit at the table and drink it.

“You’re driving me nuts,” she told her boss. “I think you’ve already worn a groove in the floor. What time do you think he’ll get here?”

“I don’t know. He said early. What’s early?”

“Well, it’s eight o’clock right now. To some people that’s early. To others it’s late.” Faith shuffled the papers in front of her, pretending to study them again. “I just hope he gets here soon.”

Tia moved to the living room window, watching the street through the slatted blinds. “Do any of your neighbors own a black Lincoln?” she called out.

“A couple of them.” Faith came in from the kitchen where she was getting coffee ready to brew. “Why?”

“I swear this is the second time I’ve seen this one roll past the house.” Faith shrugged. “I don’t think so. I’ve got at least two neighbors who parade them around like icons of affluence. You probably saw both of them leave.”

“Maybe. I guess after last night everything’s making me nervous.” Faith flipped the switch to the coffeemaker. “I’ll check it out. I’m going to get the newspaper.”

“Are you crazy?” Tia grabbed her arm. “People threaten your life and you go around like everything’s normal?”

Faith gave a nervous laugh. “Not exactly. But what’s going to happen to me on my own street? The paper’s just at the edge of the driveway.” She shrugged off Tia’s hand, unlocked the front door and hurried down the pavement. A black town car sitting in front of the house four doors down, engine idling, registered peripherally in her vision. The Thompsons. Obviously. Harry Thompson was probably cursing as he waited impatiently for his wife, the habitually tardy Gail.

As she reached the end of the driveway the car began moving down the street. She shaded her eyes, waiting, planning to wave at them. And then it all happened before she could blink. The town car picked up speed and seemed to be heading right for her.

At that exact moment a black SUV pulled up to the curb and a man leaped from it as it rocked from the fast stop. The car was scant feet away from her coming faster and she didn’t seem to be able to make her feet move.

Then strong arms wrapped around her and carried her to the lawn as the car whizzed by, so close it almost brushed her legs. Her face hit the turf and the breath was squeezed from her lungs by the heavy body on top of her. Seconds ticked by while she struggled to breathe, unable to make her body, her mouth or her brain work.

Finally the pressure was gone and big hands reached down to help her to her feet.

“What the hell are you doing out of the house?”

She looked up. And up. And up even more. Mark was well over six feet but this man topped even him. At the moment he wore an expression of mingled anger and disgust on his face. His blue eyes looked like twin torches.

“I-I was getting the newspaper.” She was shaking so badly she wasn’t sure she could stand upright.

“Get the hell into the house before they decide to come back.” Gripping her arm with fingers like steel, he frog-marched her into the house and practically threw her inside, where Tia stood waiting in the hallway.

“Don’t move.” He jogged to the SUV and dragged the keys from the ignition.

Tia was standing with her arms around Faith when Rick strode back inside seconds later, slamming the door and locking it.

“Faith, my God.” She brushed Faith’s hair back from her forehead. “Did that car almost run over you?”

He glared at Faith, who was trying to gather some semblance of dignity. “Damn straight it did, thanks to your friend’s stupidity.”

Faith couldn’t stop shaking, nor could she get the image of the black car closer than a whisper of breath out of her mind. She had to fight the urge to race to the bathroom and throw up.

“She was just getting the newspaper, for heaven’s sake,” Tia snapped at him.

“After I told her last night to stay in the house with the doors locked.” He glared at Faith. “Did I not? Was I talking to myself?”

“Y-Yes.” Faith moved away from Tia, her hands gripped tightly together to still their trembling. “But I just—”

“Someone is obviously trying to kill you and you have to go out for the newspaper?

You got a threat last night, didn’t you? It came up while you were talking to me.” She nodded. Her brain wouldn’t come unstuck. She was shaking so badly she wasn’t sure if she could stand upright.

“How?” he demanded.

“Ph-Phone. And email.”

Tia moved closer to Faith and put an arm around her again. “Can’t you stop shouting at her? She’s obviously in shock.”

“She’s lucky she’s not dead.”

“I assume you’re the mysterious Eric Latrobe?” She looked up at the mountain of a man looming over them. “At least I hope that’s who you are.”

“So you don’t let just any stranger in the house?” His voice was edged with sarcasm. “Good for you.”

“O-Only men who save my life,” Faith told him. She was getting some control back, her pulse settling down to a manageable beat.

“Smart mouth too.” He inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly, working to get his temper under control. “All right, Miss Wilding. You’ve been trying your best to get hold of me so let’s cut out the crap here. What do you want and why does someone want to kill you? Besides claiming to be an author, just who the hell are you?” She wet her lips and struggled to keep her voice even. “I’m Tidbit. And I’m trying to get help for Mark.”

Rick stared at her as if she’d just descended from Mars.

* * * * *

“Well, that was a huge success.” Brown banged his fist against the arm rest.

“Shut up.” Green wheeled the car around the corner and sped through the residential streets, nearly clipping a convertible backing out of a driveway. “A perfect opportunity and some asshole ruins it.”

“Who was that guy, anyway?”

“Who the hell knows? I don’t suppose you got a good look at him.” Brown gave an unpleasant laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Damn, damn, damn.” He took out his cell phone. “We need to ditch this car. Give the rental agency some excuse and get something completely different. Then we need to check into a hotel.”

“No kidding.”

“But first we need someone to sit on the Wilding woman and make sure she doesn’t fall off our radar.” He punched in a number and when the person at the other end answered, barked out terse instructions. “Let’s hope he gets his ass here ASAP. We can’t afford another fuckup.”

They had reached the Frontage Road and took the closest on-ramp to the interstate.

“So what now?” Brown asked.

“What now? Did you ask what now?” he snorted. “So you think that maybe just once you could come up with an idea yourself, instead of waiting to see what I decide?”

“You jackass.” Brown’s voice was tight with anger. “Maybe that’s what I should be doing since none of yours seemed to have worked out so far.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Green was changing lanes, speeding ahead of cars, trying to get…where? Where did they go now?

“Only that we lost the Latrobe kid, we aren’t any closer to finding out who knows what and who might still be on our ass and now we not only didn’t take out the target, we served notice in a very big way that she’s in danger. And whose brain masterminded it all?”

“Just shut up,” Green said again. “We have to figure out what to do. And no, calling our boss is not an option. Yet. I want to have some options first.”

* * * * *

Rick stared at the woman in front of him. “You’re kidding, right?” This slender female with the flashing green eyes and tawny hair was a far cry from what his overactive imagination had conjured up. If they got Mark Halloran back, he’d better hang onto this one before someone snatched her away from under his nose.

“Why would I be kidding?” She gripped her hands together and willed herself to stop trembling. She could still barely process what happened.

“But then…” His voice trailed off. His eyes raked her from head to toe, assessing her.

“Mark Halloran and I have been…friends all our lives. He always teased me about my height. That’s where the name came from. I’ve been Tidbit since I was twelve.”

“I think the coffee is ready,” Tia broke in. “I could sure use a cup. Why don’t we all go into the kitchen?”

“Good idea,” Rick said.

Faith got the coffeemaker going again, but was careful to brew tea for herself. She was still hyper from the caffeine she’d absorbed earlier. Big mistake, she told herself.

Now she could hardly stop her hands from shaking. Or was it the near miss that had her trembling so badly?

When they were seated at the table, each with a steaming mug of liquid, Rick nailed Faith with a cold glare.

“Okay. Truth or consequences time. You say you want to get help for Mark, but why? As far as we know, Mark’s dead.” Bitterness crept into his voice. “Killed by the same people who nearly did in my brother. And I’m not a person whose name people toss around lightly, or who can easily be contacted. So give.” She sipped at her coffee, trying to collect her scattered thoughts. “You’re right. I had to dig very deep to find you.”

“Here’s another question. How the hell did you even know who I was? I have no idea of what your relationship with Mark is…was…but I’m, damn sure he didn’t discuss me with you.”

“To tell you the truth,” she sighed, an ache in her heart, “I think we almost waited too long to find out what that relationship is. And no, he never told me about you.

Mark…compartmentalized his life. He had this outrageous idea he had to protect me from everything beyond the two square feet around me. That we would just be status quo until he was through playing solider…” She broke off and swiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks.

I will not cry. I will not fall apart in front of this man. Mark needs me. I’m his only hope.

“Here.” Tia grabbed napkins from the counter and shoved them at her.

Faith blotted her eyes and balled up the napkin. “Sorry. I’m not usually such a running faucet.”

Rick’s face softened a little. “That’s okay. Take your time.” His mouth twisted in a rueful grin. “You were talking about Mark playing soldier.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…That’s not…”

“That’s all right. Don’t worry. I understand.”

“Do you?” She leaned toward him. “Do you really? Like I told you, Mark and I have been friends… I mean really friends, before anything else…for a very long time.” She paused to weigh her words. She didn’t want to give intimate information away to this man unless she had to.

“Go ahead,” he urged.

“But despite how we felt…feel…Mark didn’t think we could move forward as long as he was in the service. Too risky, he said. We needed to do what we needed to and then see where we were when he was finished.” She twisted her hands together. “Can you understand how I admired what he was doing but resented it at the same time?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“When I learned that he spent time with you and your…friends and might join Phoenix when his current tour was up, it was a shock but that’s why he kept that to himself.”

Rick narrowed his eyes at her. “And just how did you learn all this?” She gave him a watery smile. “What’s that old line? I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”

All the muscles in his body tightened. “Miss Wilding. I need to know some things here. Like exactly why you contacted me and how the hell you even knew to call me.