Full Speed

  "Don't start, Max." Nevertheless, her stomach did a quick flip-flop at the thought.

  "You're one of those women who look good in everything," he said. "I'll bet you look even better in nothing."

  "I should have made you ride in the back with the dog."

  Max merely smiled.

  They rode in silence for a few minutes. Jamie wondered what kind of information Max had. It would make her job easier if she knew exactly what she was up against, but that would mean playing ball with him again, and that's the last thing she wanted to do. Max Holt played fast and loose, took way too many chances. If that weren't stressful enough, he seemed to have trouble with the word no.

  Yes sir, she was better off on her own.

  "What did you think of Rawlins's sermon tonight?" Max asked after a minute.

  "He certainly has stage presence."

  "He has to be good in order to steal all that money. Those poor people are so desperate they'll believe anything."

  "People need hope. Harlan gives it to them."

  "You're not falling for any of that holy baloney, are you?"

  "Of course not. I'm just telling you why he's able to get away with all that he does."

  "I saw the way you were staring at him. Don't forget what he tried to do to us."

  "If I was staring, it was because I was trying to get a fix on him. I have to be objective here. We don't know that he was responsible for ordering the hit, and we don't know that he's scamming people. All we have are suspicions."

  "Trust me, he's as greedy as the people he does business with."

  "Nevertheless, he is helping the community. Oh, I'm sure he's skimming money, but some of it is actually going to a fine cause. Did you take a good look at the people in that church, Max? They live in poverty." She looked at him. "I don't expect you to understand what being poor is like." Not that she'd actually been poor, but she had certainly lived on the fringes from time to time.

  "I've seen poverty, Jamie. I've seen much worse than this. And I've tried to help people."

  Jamie stared straight ahead. She knew he spoke the truth. Max Holt might be an egomaniac and the world's worst womanizer, but one only had to pick up a newspaper to see that he did more than his share of giving. He pumped millions into various research facilities and children's hospitals, and he'd started a watchdog program that badgered companies that refused to spend the kind of money necessary to control pollution.

  "I know you do your share, Max. I don't mean to sound like I'm picking on you; I just despise seeing people taken advantage of. Especially when they have nothing to begin with," she added. "I don't know how Rawlins lives with himself, and I don't know how he continues to get away with it."

  "I can show you when we get to my place."

  "How much farther?"

  "It's only a few more miles. You're not really going back to that motel, are you?"

  "I've already rented the room."

  "Did you leave your things there?"

  Jamie hated to tell him she'd been afraid to leave her stuff behind for fear someone would break in and steal it. "No, everything I have is in bags behind the seat."

  "Would you reconsider staying at my place if I told you there were no strings attached? And that I'm willing to share what I have regardless of whether you agree to work with me or not?"

  "Why would you do that?"

  "I keep telling you, I'm a nice guy."

  Jamie raised an eyebrow. "And I'm your ticket to get to Harlan?"

  "I'll have to admit you look pretty good in that outfit. I keep hoping you'll fall out of that top. And, yes, I think Rawlins noticed."

  "Darn right he noticed. As a matter of fact, I'm meeting with him tomorrow to work on my, um, problem."

  "No kidding? What's he going to do, ask the good Lord to send down a lightning bolt when you try to enter a shopping center?"

  "Not exactly."

  Max looked at her. "You're blushing, Jamie. What's up? I can tell when you're keeping something from me."

  She would have to tell him the truth sooner or later. "Max, what I told the congregation and what I told Rawlins were two different things."

  "I'm listening."

  "I had to say something that would get his attention."

  "I'm still listening."

  "I told him I was a sex addict."

  "You did what!"

  "It was the only way. How else do you think I managed to get a personal invitation to his home for private counseling?"

  Max did not look happy. "Let me get this straight. You're going to Harlan Rawlins's home without backup, knowing full well that he's somehow involved with the mob? Not only that, we already know he has a weakness for women, and you've told him you're a sex addict. Great idea, Jamie. Why don't you throw a little meat to a lion while you're at it? Dammit!"

  "I wouldn't go if I weren't convinced it was safe. I'm sure he has plenty of staff on hand, not to mention his family."

  "You don't know what you're up against. By now Harlan and his mob pals know the man they hired to take me out is dead. The fact that the hit man, Vito Puccini, didn't get the job done will make them even more determined to succeed. They may have already hired someone else to take me out. They could be searching for me at this very moment."

  Jamie remained silent.

  "The bottom line is we need to work together on this for both of our sakes," Max said. "So what's it going to take to convince you?"

  Jamie knew he had a point, but she wasn't going to give in that easy.

  "First, admit that my plan could work."

  Max glanced over at her. "I'm not saying it's a bad plan; I'm saying you need backup. You really need to see what I have on Rawlins. Then you'll understand why I feel the way I do."

  "OK, I'll see what you've got."

  "Take a right at the next road and drive until you see the cabin. There aren't any other houses nearby."

  Jamie turned down a dirt road where No Trespassing signs made it plain visitors weren't welcome. A minute later, she pulled into a driveway beside a rough-hewn log cabin. She looked around. "Where are the security cameras?"

  Max smiled. "You won't find them. You'll know if somebody comes near the property because it'll set off an alarm inside."

  "Loud enough to give me heart failure?"

  He chuckled. "No, just loud enough so you can hear from any of the rooms."

  Jamie climbed from the truck and opened the tailgate so Fleas could jump out. He whizzed on the nearest bush and followed them inside the cabin. It was cool. The scent of wild-flowers rode on a breeze coming through the living room windows. The room had obviously been designed for comfort. The overstuffed sofa and chairs, adorned in a country print, faced a wall-sized stone fireplace. A TV sat in one corner, a bookshelf in the opposite. The room was large and shared space with a kitchen that held an old trestle table made of pine. It was simple and inviting.

  "The beds come with feather mattresses," Max said.

  "How many bathrooms?"

  He hesitated. "There's a half-bath in the loft but only one with a tub, and it's in the hall across from the bedroom where you'd be sleeping. If you decide to stay."

  Jamie nodded her approval. "Nice place you got here, Holt."

  "Muffin found it while we were still chasing bad guys in Beaumont. From what I understand, it was in bad shape. A team of contractors practically rebuilt it from the ground up in less than a week."

  "Jeez, I can't get a toilet repaired that fast."

  "You do what you have to do."

  "Won't people think it strange that the cabin was repaired almost overnight? What if the contractors talk?"

  "They work for me."

  "Why am I not surprised?"

  "So what do you say? You want to give it a try?"

  Jamie pondered it. She had promised herself to stay as far away from Max Holt as possible, but here she was, standing only a few feet from him and wishing she didn't find him so sexy. On the flip side, Jamie knew she needed hi
m for the job at hand. He had the technology and the contacts.

  Max smiled. "You're chewing your bottom lip. That means you're considering it."

  "We should set a few ground rules."

  "You're right. You'll have to stop giving me the come-on."

  Her look was deadpan.

  He sighed. "What are the rules?"

  "We agree to keep this strictly business."

  "That depends. Do you plan to walk around in those short skirts and tank tops all the time?"

  "Be serious."

  "I'm being very serious."

  "I have to dress like this when I meet with Harlan. I'm trying to bait him."

  "Damn good bait if you ask me. I'd bite."

  She tried to ignore him. Yet she couldn't help but admit she derived a certain amount of satisfaction knowing she had captured Max's imagination. "Rule number two: I want to know everything that's going on at all times. No surprises. I'm serious about getting my story, so I have to be able to document everything as it happens. I'll also need to use some of the background information you've gathered on Harlan and the mob."

  "Some of the information came from, um, sources that I'm not supposed to know even exist."

  "Oh, great. Meaning you and Muffin have been busting through computer firewalls and deciphering codes again."

  "Sometimes I break the rules." He saw her look. "Not that I have any intention of breaking the rules you're setting right now, of course."

  "Yeah, right."

  "And I might enjoy helping you with your story. I happen to know a little bit about the newspaper business if you'll recall."

  Jamie was reminded that was one of the reasons he'd been eager to invest in her fledgling newspaper to begin with. Max had worked for his cousin's newspaper, and she had also seen firsthand how savvy he was when it came to what readers liked.

  Finally, she shrugged. "I'll listen to suggestions," she said, "as long as you realize I'm not giving you editorial control, and you're not getting a byline."

  "You're a hard woman, Jamie. Does this mean you're in?"

  "Show me what you've got on Rawlins."

  Max handed her a folder.

  Jamie sat on the sofa and opened the file. Max took a chair opposite her. After a moment, she looked up. "I'm impressed."

  "And so you should be."

  "How did you know Rawlins wouldn't be touring at this time?"

  "We got lucky. If he'd been on tour we would have come up with a different plan. It just worked out this way."

  "I see he actually received his master of divinity from one of the best seminaries in the country."

  "With a heavy emphasis on pastoral counseling," Max said. "Which permitted him to take all the psychology courses he wanted. Bottom line: He knows people."

  "No wonder he makes such a good shark. Nice photo. Shows off his blue eyes."

  "Stop drooling; you're supposed to remain objective, remember?"

  "Do you think you could hold off being insufferable until I've had a chance to study Rawlins's file?"

  "So you're saying you and me, a hot shower, and me licking you dry afterward isn't likely?"

  A shiver ran up Jamie's backbone, touching each vertebra along the way. "See what I mean? I haven't been here five minutes, and you're already breaking the rules."

  Max moved to the sofa. His gaze met hers. "You know the score. You knew it when you walked through that front door."

  Jamie felt his thigh touch hers, but she refused to move and make a big deal out of it. "What are you trying to say?"

  "You're after something."

  She arched one brow. "And that something would be you?"

  He shrugged. "I know the story is important to you. The fact you might have me as well is just an added bonus."

  It was all she could do to keep from bursting into laughter. His sense of humor was one of the qualities she most appreciated in him. "Enjoying yourself, Max?" she said as though talking to a child. It didn't help that Max had already painted a picture in her mind of the two of them naked beneath a warm spray of water.

  She took a deep breath and studied the printout before her. Max was quiet, but she could sense his gaze on her, smell his aftershave. She was attracted to him on all levels. But she had to stop thinking along those lines, because she already knew the dangers. Max Holt was hazardous to a woman's heart.

  "I see Rawlins's psychology courses helped immensely in his calling," she said, changing the subject. "It says here that he uses a number of techniques to win people over and control his followers."

  "Brainwashing, fear tactics, and hypnosis being among them," Max said. "There's also a lot of peer pressure from within the group. People like to fit in. Rawlins plants his people in the group to draw visitors in and keep them in."

  Jamie wished Max would scoot over, but to suggest it would let him know he was having an effect on her. Not that he didn't already know, she reminded herself. Max knew women, and he knew how to play them.

  "So this is what you wanted me to see."

  "I thought it might give you insight as to the kind of man we're dealing with."

  "But why would he go to so much trouble when most of this area is impoverished? Why isn't he trying to convert the wealthy?"

  "Rawlins knows he isn't going to make money in Sweet Pea, but how would it look to the public if he didn't help the people he grew up with? He's offered to meet their donations tenfold. It might make headlines, but tenfold of almost nothing equals very little out of his pocket. There aren't many people who can afford to give." Max paused. "As for converting the wealthy, Rawlins has managed to snare an impressive number of those with fat wallets. He plays golf, sails, and he's big on charitable events."

  "Which means he rubs elbows with the right people."

  Max nodded. "And his PR person makes sure Harlan's name is in the newspaper every chance he gets. His notoriety and charm are a big draw to people."

  "He's fighting for new industry in this area," Jamie said. "Not only has he donated money from his ministry, he's rallied support from other organizations."

  "His ministry appears squeaky clean," Max said. "He presents himself to the world as a happily married man with a two-year-old son he dotes on. You have to know where to look to find the real story."

  Jamie held up the papers. "Who would take the time to collect this much information on Rawlins, and why?" When Max didn't answer, she tried to guess. "The FBI, right? They've caught wind of his mob connections."

  "Could be."

  "You're not going to tell me?"

  "You haven't agreed to work with me."

  Jamie looked up. "I have a question, Max. Do you believe in miracles? Other than the fact it's a miracle we're still alive after what we've been through?"

  "That's one heck of a way to change the subject, but to answer your question, I believe in living by my wits."

  "In other words, you can't imagine a power greater than yourself. Why am I not surprised?"

  "I didn't say that." He smiled. "I'm glad we're going to be spending a lot of time together here," he said, indicating the cabin. "It's a very intimate setting. We'll have time to work on us."

  Jamie rolled her eyes. Talk about changing the subject, but then, Max might be one of those people who kept his beliefs private.

  "There is no us, Max, except in your own mind."

  He looked amused. "I hope you didn't make that date with Rawlins just to make me jealous."

  He was back to his old antics. "Would you cut it out?" Finally, Jamie stood and moved to the chair. "By the way, he thinks my name is Jane."

  Max chuckled. "Very original. Now you're going to need a last name. How do you like the name Matt Trotter?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "It's the name I'm using." He pulled out several cards. "Driver's license, Social Security card, and my employee card from Bennett Electric. Like my picture? I wasn't crazy about my new look at first, but I think it works."

  Of course it worked, Jamie thought.
The truth was, the man would have been handsome with pork chops hanging from his ears. "I take it this new job of yours is just a front?"

  "Yeah. I'm really working for an escort service."

  "How do you plan to find time to investigate Rawlins and his mob friends?"

  "I have a nice boss."

  "Meaning money has exchanged hands."

  "It happens. Now that you've decided to sign on with me, so to speak, you'll need identification. I'll snap a picture of the new you, scan it, and e-mail it to a friend of mine. Next time you walk out that door, you'll have a brand-new identity."

  "Oh, yeah? Who am I supposed to be?"

  "Jane Trotter. My wife."

  Chapter Five

  "We're supposed to be married?" Jamie blurted in disbelief.

  "Can you think of a better explanation as to why we're sharing a cabin in the woods?"

  "Why can't we be brother and sister?"

  Max shook his head. "Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. Someone would notice how you look at me, and our cover would be blown."

  She did a massive eye roll. "Oh, puh-lease."

  "Face it, Swifty: You have lust in your eyes, and it has my name written all over it."

  "You know, I've discovered the best way to deal with you is to ignore most of what you say. Frankly, I don't see why we have to explain anything."

  "We're going to try and infiltrate the good reverend's ministry, sweetheart. Hopefully, we'll meet some of the key players. Who knows? One of us might end up teaching Sunday school."

  "Harlan might be discouraged if I tell him I'm married."

  "Actually, it works to his benefit. The last thing he wants to deal with is a messy entanglement. You can pretend you're trying to curb your, uh, addiction in order to save your marriage. You're not really going to have sex with him ..." Max paused.

  "What?" Jamie said when he didn't finish. She frowned. "You're not afraid something is going to happen between Harlan and me. You're not thinking—"

  "I don't know what to think," Max said. "What if you get cornered? What if he forces himself on you?" Max shook his head. "I'll have to level with you, Jamie. I've felt uneasy about the man from the beginning. We don't know what he's capable of."