Alice Sharpe - The Baby's Bodyguard

His single-mindedness beat his words into her head like jungle drums. If this kept up she’d spill her guts, voice her concerns about David to get Jack’s focus off her. It was way too soon to do that; there were other people to consider. Struggling to stay calm, she said, “I was already at the school. I left right from the hotel. I wasn’t part of the caravan. I had to be there earlier to arrange things on that end.”

He shook his head. “So, you had nothing to do with anything.”

“No more than you did,” she said, and again thought of David and the last time she’d seen him. Oh, no, she had to be wrong. Softening her voice, she added, “If you had been in the car with Hugo Correa, it wouldn’t have changed a thing.”

“The two men who were in that car died,” he said. “They were my men, I should have been there.”

“I saw the pictures taken after the incident. I saw what they did. There’s no way you would have survived, Jack. It’s a miracle anyone did.”

“My job was to make sure everyone survived.”

“I don’t understand you,” she said, her voice raspy. “This is no one’s fault but the rebels who try to get their way by destroying innocent lives. You know their methods, you know better than anyone what they’re capable of. They recruit children. They support drug cartels to finance their so-called patriotism. They murder anyone who wants out. I work for a nonprofit organization started by a man who wanted to improve the education of children in South America, who wanted to help them build a future. How could you think I’d have anything to do with people like the GTM?”

He pushed himself away from her, hitching his hands on his waist as he continued to stare at her face, reaching who knew what conclusions. His gaze was still intense but dare she hope she detected a glimmer of doubt?

A year before, she’d noticed him the minute he walked into the hotel bar to meet with her to go over the plans for the next day. Tall, dark and handsome as the saying goes, and with those blue eyes that could peel the clothes right off a woman. Their attraction had been immediate and mutual, and he was right, the sex had been world-class.

Now, thinner but somehow stronger, less refined and honed by months of deprivation, he still exuded enough sex appeal to topple a dozen women in a single glance. The look in his eyes might not be soft and warm, but it had her sizzling inside and out and she wasn’t proud of it.

“I’m leaving,” she announced. “I was supposed to be home a half hour ago. Goodbye.” She got to her feet and walked a few feet, then turned back to him. “Jack? You believe me, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“I don’t know why that bothers me, but it does,” she admitted.

He ran a hand through his long hair, clearing his forehead for a moment. “Everything added up,” he said as though to himself. “I was so sure it was you.”

“I really would like to know how you escaped, Jack. I don’t understand why I didn’t hear about it on the news.”

“Hardly anyone knows I’m back.”

“Didn’t you go to the consulate? Didn’t you need to get a new passport?”

“Not the way I came back into the country.”

“Why would you come back illegally? You’re a hero—”

“I came back under my own terms to find the truth,” he said, looking out to the ocean. “I didn’t want to get lost in red tape and protocol. I’ll do that later. I have this feeling there’s a ticking bomb I can’t find.”

“Oh, Jack, I’m sorry.”

He flashed her a quick glance. “I thought you would have the answers. Now, I’m not so sure.”

“I guess I’ll have to settle for that,” she said. She started to turn again.

“Meet me later tonight,” he said suddenly, reaching for her arm, catching her sleeve.

“I can’t,” she mumbled. “It’s impossible.”

His fingers slid down her arm, lingered on her hand. “Come to Fort Bragg for an hour,” he said, his voice softer now.

Fort Bragg was several miles south of Allota and was the home of the Staar Foundation. She’d just come from there an hour before. She said, “I’m sorry—”

“Please,” he added. “I need to know more about your plans in Costa del Rio. Anything you can remember might help. I have to figure out what’s going on down there, Hannah. It’s more important than I can tell you. It’s bigger than the ambush and a half-dozen deaths. This isn’t just about revenge.”

Glancing down at their linked fingers, she recalled how bereft she’d been when he disappeared the day after their night together. Coming on the heels of David’s death, she’d decided she was a jinx of the worst kind.

After their one wild night together had she anticipated their relationship might continue? The truth? Yes. There was something about Jack Starling—there had been then, there was now. But things had changed and now there was too much at stake to get involved. “I’m sorry,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “It’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he murmured.

Together, they walked back up the dune. The parking lot had cleared out while she was gone and now Hannah’s car was the only one at the back. She’d been away from it less than thirty minutes. The perishables should be okay. Well, maybe not the ice cream …

The explosion wasn’t the kind that shook the earth, but was so unexpected, it sent Hannah toppling back against Jack. He immediately swiveled her around as if to shield her from danger, the bodyguard in him coming to the forefront, his strong, warm body pressed against hers.

She looked over his shoulder at the black cloud of smoke enveloping her car.

At police request, Jack presented his identity, holding his breath it would pass scrutiny. The last name on it was Carlin instead of Starling. It had stood up earlier in the month when he used it, and he assumed it would hold up again. The cops made notes and handed the false driver’s license back and then proceeded to ignore him.

Hannah had walked away from him to make a call, and now she tucked her cell phone into her handbag as she returned. She’d seemed desperate to make this call after the explosion. He didn’t know if it was because she thought she knew who was behind the bomb or because she was concerned a loved one would hear the news and start to worry.

There was so much he didn’t know about her.

Twenty feet farther along, firemen and police were finishing their investigation. The afternoon was giving way to evening, the breeze of earlier in the day getting serious enough to thrash Hannah’s straight, shoulder-length hair around her neck. She turned her face into the wind to clear a few glistening strands of red-gold from her mouth and eyes.

She struck him as more contained, less vulnerable and stronger than the last time they’d met. Just as attractive, yes. Just as interesting with a spark of naughty in her clear green eyes. He liked the way her nose tilted up a little at the end, he liked the few freckles scattered across her cheeks.

After seeing and talking to her again it was hard to believe she’d been in on something as nasty as what happened in Tierra Montañosa. He had the gut feeling she was telling the truth, but he had just as strong a feeling she was hiding something he needed to know.

“What did you mean when you accused me of watching you?” Jack asked.

“It’s not important,” she said, and then looked over his shoulder as something else caught her attention. He turned to find that one of the police officers had detached himself from the others and was walking toward them. With a hasty glance back at Jack, Hannah quickly moved to meet the officer and lowered her head as they spoke. Jack recognized her attempts to keep her conversations private. He’d operated the same way for most of his life.