Close Quarters

  Leland gaped at her. "This isn't a fucking game. The man already killed your father! He won't hesitate to kill you."

  "The cartel guys he convinced to finance his operation aren't going to let him have that chance once they realize how much money he's lost and how stupid he's made them all look. They're expecting a massive payday and an easy way to launder some of their dirty money. When they don't get it?" She dragged a finger across her neck.

  Speechless, he gritted his teeth and fought the urge to shake some sense into her. "Damn it, Jamie! You think they're going to stop with Dane?"

  "Yes, I do."

  "Then you're a fool," he spat angrily. "They won't forgive your part in this mess."

  "They already have."

  Three words, and he was knocked backward with shock. It seemed her plan for revenge left no loose ends. "How?"

  "You know how."

  "Hector, your knight in cocaine-dusted armor." He slammed her maps and book back into the folder, and stuck her pistol inside. He left the heavy folder on the nearest shelf and dropped the GPS tracker on top. "Did you stop to think for one second what coming here means for Peyton? Did you even consider that if your plan flies off the rails, they'll start looking for answers with her?"

  "You don't need to worry about Peyton. She's safe. I took care of that." She stepped toward him and wrung her hands. "If you would just listen to me for a second, I can explain—"

  "I'm done listening to this," he snarled. Reeling from the realization he knew nothing about this new woman she had become, he shook his head. "You broke my trust, Jamie. You should have told me last night about all of this. If something happens to Peyton—"

  "Nothing is going to happen to Peyton!"

  "You don't know that! Will you listen to yourself? You cannot possibly be this stupid."

  She flinched, and he instantly hated himself for losing it. A moment later, she presented him with a cool, icy mask of indifference. "If that's how you feel, then I should leave."

  "Yes, you should." He wanted her gone. No, you don't. You want her here, in your arms and in your bed. "Pack up your stuff. I'm going into town for groceries. I'll stop by the garage to see if your car is ready. If it's not, you can take my rental. When I'm back, you need to be ready to go."

  "Fine."

  "Great." She stepped out of the doorway so he could pass through without touching her. As he stormed back to the cabin to retrieve his wallet and the rental keys, he ignored the gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach and the heaviness in his chest. He slid behind the wheel of the SUV, jammed the key into the ignition and slammed the door.

  After throwing the vehicle in drive, he let his foot hesitate on the brake. A voice inside his head screamed for him to go back to the shed and talk to her. He was so angry and disappointed. Didn't she understand how risky this was? How fucking reckless she had been? It wasn't only her life she had put in the crosshairs, but Peyton's. When it came to his sister, no one was allowed to cross that line, not even Jamie.

  But she seemed so sure she had everything neatly wrapped up and Peyton protected. He wanted to believe she was that good at masterminding a plot like this one, but his hand drifted to the dull ache in his side and the old scar on his neck. Even the best laid plans could be blown to hell in the blink of an eye.

  Certain they would only scream and yell at each other if he got out of the SUV, he eased down on the gas and drove away from the cabin. They needed some space to decompress. He had to decide how much deeper he wanted to be dragged into her scheme. This was the sort of thing that could derail his career and get him in a shitload of trouble.

  She's worth it.

  His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he raced down the long stretch of empty highway. Her forlorn, resigned voice echoed in his head. I wasn't ever enough of a reason for anyone to stick around.

  She really believed she wasn't worth fighting for. She wouldn't have done something so dangerous if she didn't believe it. In her mind, she probably thought she was alone. The scars he had traced on her body were proof enough that she had been living a wild, carefree life. Just how far had she pushed the envelope? How many of her decisions had been influenced by the guilt she felt for her dad's death?

  Peyton had told him that Michelle still blamed Jamie for her father's death. Her mother believed she had been a distraction during the trip, a distraction that had cost James his life. As far as he knew, Michelle had become an even heavier drinker since James' burial. Jamie had no brothers or sisters, no grandparents or aunts or uncles or cousins. She was an only child with no one else to support her. Although she was still best friends with Peyton, he sensed the two had grown apart. He figured that was a normal thing, especially when one of them was immersed in academia, and the other was trying to find herself by risking her life.

  He wiped a hand down his face and expelled a noisy breath. Was it so wrong for her to want revenge on the man who had taken her father's life? He thought of all the hazardous missions he had completed in his seven years as a SEAL. How many of them were undertaken to mete out justice? Wasn't that what she wanted? Justice for her father's murder?

  But there were better, easier, and much cleaner ways of getting justice.

  As he pulled into the small parking lot of the only grocery story for fifty miles, he still didn't know what he was going to do when he got back to the cabin. He wasn't going to send her away. She might think she had everything under control, but he wasn't convinced.

  No, they needed to get out of town as soon as possible. He thought of some of the remote hunting blinds and cabins he had visited with his father over the years. There were half a dozen within a day's driving distance. Those were better places to hide her, but he needed supplies. He also needed to call in some favors from friends who owed him big-time. Someone needed to pick up Peyton and stow her some place safe.

  Pushing a cart down the first aisle, he chose some apples, bananas and oranges, fruit that was easy to store and eat. Peanut butter and bread were next on his list. He spotted that hazelnut spread he had watched Peyton and Jamie devour as kids and grabbed a jar. It wasn't exactly an apology for blowing up at her, but he hoped it would soothe her a little.

  "Leland!" George Perez, the owner of the auto shop, greeted him with a broad smile. Wearing his usual uniform of jeans, a worn green button-down shirt and that faded baseball cap, the older man extended his hand. "It's good to see you, son."

  Leland gripped the mechanic's hand. "Nice to see you, sir."

  "Sir?" George scoffed. "You don't have to sir me. You in town long?"

  "Just passing through," he said. "I have a little R&R time and then it's back to Virginia."

  George smiled slyly. "R&R, huh? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?"

  Leland laughed at the way he had walked right into that one. George must have thought he had arranged for Jamie to meet him out here as some sort of steamy rendezvous. "Something like that."

  "Well, I'm sure you'd like to get back to the cabin." George backed away with his small basket of groceries. He reached the end of the aisle and snapped his fingers before turning around again. "Oh! Your friend's uncle came by the shop a little bit ago. He said he couldn't reach her by phone, so I gave him the directions out to your place and the gate code."

  Leland's blood ran cold, but he played it cool. "I guess I'd better grab another steak for dinner."

  "I sent him out that way about ten minutes ago, but I'd just seen him coming out of Jolene's café. He might not be hungry."

  "I'll have to give him a call." He brushed his hand against the front pocket of his jeans and silently cursed. He had been in such a hurry to get out of the cabin he had left his phone on the counter. He couldn't even call the house phone to give Jamie a heads-up to hide.

  An even worse memory hit him. He reached back and patted his pocket. The loaded magazine to her pistol was still there. He had left her without a way to defend herself. Shit.

  Not wanting to rouse too
much suspicion, he left the cart, walked in the other direction and slipped out of the grocery store unnoticed. He slid behind the wheel and backed out of the parking lot. Heart hammering against his chest, he turned onto the highway and punched the gas the moment he crossed the city limit sign. Knuckles white on the wheel, he prayed he would reach Jamie in time.

  Chapter Six

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  Hating herself, Jamie shoved her toothbrush and toothpaste into her toiletry case. She gathered up her tiny shampoo and conditioner bottles, and jammed them in there, too. She stuffed the case into her luggage and zipped it up tight after taking one final look around the cabin.

  Her gaze lingered on the bed where Leland had been so gentle and loving with her. It had been so beautiful and exactly as she had always imagined. His masterful hands had shown her so much pleasure. Now the very sight of her made him sick. He wanted her to go as far away from him as possible. He would tell Peyton exactly what she had done and put an end to their friendship. Maybe it was better that way. After spending one perfect night with Leland, she would never be able to be around him without her heart breaking.

  Her throat ached and her eyes prickled with a searing heat. She blinked furiously and refused to cry. It's your own damned fault.

  And it was. It was always her fault. Leland was right. She was a fool.

  "You know, you just might be the smartest, most dangerous girl I've ever had the misfortune to meet."

  Startled by the unexpected sound of Dane Castillejo's voice, she whirled toward the kitchen area where he stood watching her. She glanced at the front door and realized he'd come in while she was in the bathroom. Her gaze skipped to the accordion folder brimming with maps and notes—and her handgun. The GPS tracking devices Hector had planted on Dane and his boat showed him off the coast of the Dominican Republic, but obviously they were wrong.

  Dane looked unnervingly calm as he leaned one shoulder against the refrigerator. His cargo shorts and polo shirt didn't have a wrinkle in them. She noticed he wore boat shoes. He had come to kill her looking so carefree and breezy. Whatever he had in mind, he didn't plan to stick around long enough to get very dirty. Was that a small mercy?

  Dane lifted the teeny tiny chip Hector had planted in the watch he wore everywhere. "This was very clever. Unluckily for you, it was time to have my watch cleaned and serviced. Otherwise, it would have been a smart move."

  "Not smart enough, clearly," she replied. "You're here."

  "I'm here."

  "I take it you finally realized you were salvaging the wrong boat for the last four months."

  "That was awfully clever of you to seed the wrong site with real treasure. I should have known you'd never part with your father's maps and journals that easily. Such an elaborate setup," he murmured. "I almost feel special."

  "You killed my father. I figured you deserved this much."

  "Because asking your friend would have been too easy," he countered.

  Which friend did he mean? Had he figured out Leland was a SEAL or did he mean…?

  "I ran into Hector Salas in College Station. He seems to have an interest in that chemist friend of yours. He had his men sitting on her all night. They're probably following her around campus right now, keeping her nice and safe."

  She was glad Leland wasn't there to hear that bit of news. He would have a stroke. "That was the plan."

  "I always wondered what the relationship was between you and Hector. The heiress and the enforcer? I hope he hasn't already bought the ring." With an evil leer, he shoved off the refrigerator and took three menacing steps forward. "Or maybe he can slide it onto the finger of your corpse."

  "In case you haven't noticed, there aren't any cliffs around here for you drop me off of, Dane." Her smartass remark came out clear and steady, quite unlike the wobbling in her lower belly that made her want to puke.

  "Oh, that's all right, sweetheart. I've become very, very good at making accidents happen over the years." He must have seen her eyes widen because he laughed so nastily. "What? You thought James was the first one I've gotten rid of? Hardly! That's what made him suspicious of me. When our insurance premiums skyrocketed after the second fatal accident during one of my deep sea fishing excursions, he got curious and started poking around in my past."

  "He connected the dots and didn't like the picture that emerged," she guessed aloud. "Were you always in the cartel's pocket?"

  Dane shook his head. "The first time I sabotaged an air tank, I was just a kid. A little younger than you, even. I was in a bind with gambling debts, so I took a job with my uncle's boat one summer. This hot MILF came up to me one day and made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Get rid of the rich old bastard she'd married so she wouldn't have to worry about a divorce and that nasty little prenup she had stupidly signed, and I'd have enough cash to get my own boat and set up a diving business."

  Wanting to stall him and hoping Leland would return quickly, she asked, "How many?"

  "Dozens."

  Aghast at his laidback manner, she shook her head. "Dozens? It's that easy for you to say it. It's just some number to you?"

  "Not so easy when it came to you," he said rather sourly. His lips pursed. "The decision to spare you really bit me in the ass now. I should have done it then, taken out two Pearsons for the price of one." Sighing, he stepped toward her. "Oh, well. No use crying over spilled milk, as they say."

  She edged toward the envelope on the bed. "I have the maps. The real ones," she clarified, "and my notes too."

  "We're beyond the point of bargaining, Junior."

  She grimaced at the way he used her father's nickname for her. Stall. Just keep stalling. "Are we? Because I don't see any reason why we can't at least open the floor to negotiations."

  "Unless you want to negotiate whether you drown or are electrocuted in that bathtub after an unpleasant fall, I don't see the point of chatting any longer."

  "Wow. Nice choices. Thanks." She picked up the envelope and slid her hand inside. "You sure you don't want to see the real maps?" Her fingertips brushed the cold metal of the pistol. At this distance, the .45 would blow a nice, big hole in him.

  "No, thank you. And you should be grateful I'm giving you a choice about how this all ends. It's more than I've ever done for anyone else."

  "Too bad the same can't be said for you." She jerked her gun free from the envelope, flicked off the safety, aimed square at his chest and squeezed the trigger.

  Click.

  Horrified that it didn't fire, she squeezed the trigger again and again but nothing happened. She tilted her hand and realized that in the adrenaline rush she hadn't noticed the weight difference. The magazine was gone. Leland!

  Laughing cruelly, Dane advanced on her. Without wasting a moment, she switched her grip on the pistol, grabbing the muzzle instead of the grip, and put those tennis camp skills to good use. Grunting with exertion, she pistol-whipped him across the face. Dane cried out in pain and stumbled forward. With his head down, she took advantage of the angle to crash the gun down on the back of his skull. He dropped to his knees, and she ran like hell.

  Out on the porch, she experienced a moment's indecision. She wouldn't make it to the front gate, not if he managed to get to his vehicle. Even if she made it out there, she would have no place to hide. She swung a quick left and raced toward the shed. There had to be something in there she could use as a weapon. If not, she was going to run toward the river and keep on running until she found someone to help her or her legs gave out.

  Dane proved to be tougher than she had expected. She heard him snarling her name after the front door banged loudly. With his footsteps thundering closer, she made it to the shed and jerked the door open. The first thing she spotted was a lantern. She dropped the gun and grabbed it.

  Swinging it wildly as she spun around, she slammed the lantern against the forearm he had thrown up to block her at the last moment. The glass shattered along his tanned skin. He screamed with pain, but didn't let it s
low him down. He hooked her ankle with his foot, and she went reeling backward. She managed to tense her neck and keep her head from knocking against the shed.

  "Oof!" She gasped for air as she bounced against the hard ground. The soles of her shoes squealed against the damp grass as she fought to get upright, but Dane was on top of her in an instant. She pressed her hands against his chin and shoved hard. He growled and lifted a closed fist as if he meant to strike her—but he never got the chance.

  A blur of denim and a very familiar gray T-shirt flashed right in front of her eyes. Somehow, some way, Leland had returned to save her. He tackled Dane, throwing him to the ground. She rolled onto her side and watched the two men grapple. Dane never stood a chance.

  Leland proved his prowess as a warrior in less than twenty seconds of combat. Flipping onto his back, he locked his legs around Dane's torso and hooked his muscled forearm under the other man's neck. The tendons rippled as he gripped his fist and jerked back hard enough to cut off the man’s airflow. Dane slapped weakly, futilely, and passed out cold.

  Leland didn't stop there. He pushed Dane onto his stomach and put a knee in the other man's lower back, holding him down in case he gained consciousness. He unbuckled and whipped his belt free, using it to lash one of Dane's ankles to a wrist. Even if the man woke up, he wouldn't be able to get very far.

  With Dane secured, Leland spun toward her and crossed the distance between them with three determined but limping strides. He crouched down in front of her and cupped her face between his big, strong hands. His piercing gaze scanned her face. "Are you all right? Did he hurt you?"