Читать книгу Green Beret Bodyguard - Carol Ericson - Страница 13

Chapter Four

Lola stumbled backward. She banged her hip against the corner of the bathroom sink and yanked her towel from the rack. Her gaze darted from the big, dirty footprint in her tub to the window over the shower that someone—not her—had left open a tiny crack.

Jack. Was he still here? She screamed and flew from the bathroom. She tugged at the front door, clutching the towel around her body with one hand.

Tripping into the hallway, Lola almost sank to her knees in relief when she saw Jack lunging toward her door. She threw out a hand to steady herself, clutching the doorjamb, and choked out his name. “Jack.”

His arms wrapped around her, his voice hoarse in her ear. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Someone broke into my place.” She pointed a shaky finger back inside her condo.

He tightened his hold on her. Her fist, still gripping the towel, smashed against her chest, but she felt safe in Jack’s arms.

Still embracing her, Jack moved toward the gaping door. “He’s not still in there, is he?”

She shivered. “Thank God, no, but I saw how he broke in.”

A door opened down the hallway and a man poked his head out. “What’s going on? Are you okay, Lola?”

Warmth touched Lola’s cheek when she realized she had only a towel clutched around her naked body. “I’m fine, Aaron, but I think someone broke into my place. You didn’t notice anything, did you?”

“No, but my wife’s car was burglarized a few months ago. This neighborhood is going downhill. Let us know how he got in and if anything’s missing. We’ll discuss it at the next association meeting.”

When Aaron retreated into his condo, Lola broke away from Jack. “I’d better check to see if anything’s missing.”

He followed her inside and closed and locked the door behind them. “Tell me what happened. What did you see?”

“I was getting ready to take a shower.” Tightening the towel around her body, she glanced back at him. “Thank God you were still here. For once I’m glad that elevator was so slow.”

“Not that there’s much I can do now.”

“No, but…” She wasn’t going to admit to him that his very presence in her condo soothed her. That his dark intensity and his honed muscles convinced her he could protect her from just about anything.

She grabbed his solid forearm and dragged him down the hall to the bathroom. She pointed at the footprint marring the pristine porcelain of the tub. “He came in through the window and must’ve left that way. The footprint is pointing toward the window, so maybe he jumped over the tub when he came in and then stepped in a little water in the tub that muddied the bottom of his shoe when he left.”

“Did you leave that window open?”

“No. He must’ve done that on his way out.”

“What’s on the other side? You’re on the third floor.”

“There’s a balcony that runs along the outside. That’s why I always keep this window closed and locked.” Folding her arms across the towel, she dug her fingers into her flesh. “I always thought this window was too big for a bathroom.”

Jack stood on the edge of the tub and examined the window without touching it. “Looks like the lock could’ve been forced. Call the police and report this. Maybe they can pick up some fingerprints.”

Before her knees started shaking again, Lola flipped down the toilet seat and dropped on top of it. “I didn’t notice anything out of place in any of the rooms.”

“So he was careful. It doesn’t mean he didn’t steal something. Have a look around.”

“I’m going to get dressed first.”

Jack’s brown eyes shifted to the edge of her towel and darkened to an impossible ebony. “I’ll check the rest of your windows and the sliding doors.”

She pushed off the toilet seat and stopped at the bathroom door. “This has something to do with Gabe, doesn’t it? My car…all of it.”

He came up behind her so close, his warm breath caressed the back of her neck. “Or me. Someone knows I’m back in the States. They must’ve figured I’d contact you.”

Goose bumps rushed up her arms, and she tripped into her bedroom. Damn Gabe. How had he gotten into such a mess? And why did he have to drag her into it? And damn Jack, too. When her father died, she thought that shadow of danger always hovering in the background would disappear.

She dropped the towel on the floor and scooped up the jeans and T-shirt she’d worn during the day. Perching on the edge of her bed, she grabbed the phone and called the police. This didn’t warrant a call to 911, but they assured her they’d send a patrol car to check it out.

As she sat with the phone between her knees, Jack tapped on her bedroom door. “Yeah, come on in.”

He nodded toward the phone. “You call the cops?”

“I did. Should you take off before they arrive?” She held her breath. If she didn’t want him to leave before, she really didn’t want him to leave now.

“Nah, they won’t be too interested in me, but I’ll give them a fake name just in case.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “All the other doors and windows seem secure. I went out to the balcony, and it looks like another partial footprint out there but nothing else, and neither one of those prints is clear.”

“I haven’t even checked my stuff.” She bounded from the bed and ducked into her walk-in closet, where she kept a safe. Everything was intact. She dug out a jewelry box where she’d stashed several expensive pieces her mother had worn. Nothing was touched.

“How about your office, your computer?”

Lola went into the second bedroom, which she used as an office, and sifted through her drawers and files, leaving behind a bigger mess than the thieves.

After verifying her tidy burglar hadn’t taken one item, Lola shoved her hands in her pockets and hunched her shoulders. “I don’t get it. Nothing’s missing. I can tell someone has gone through my belongings, even though that someone has been extremely careful not to leave anything out of place. If he hadn’t left that footprint, I never would’ve known he was here.”

“He was looking for something.” Jack drew his dark brows over his nose. “But he didn’t find it.”

“There’s nothing to find.” Lola spread her arms wide. “If he’d wanted money, he could’ve taken some from my safe. Jewelry? Not interested.”

“Maybe he was looking for some correspondence with me. Some indication we’d been in touch. Some evidence of my location.”

Lola twisted her fingers together as if she could wring out the anxiety. “I don’t know, Jack. None of it makes sense. Do you think he was looking for something in my car, too?”

“It’s possible.”

The knock on the door made Lola jump, and she flashed Jack a wobbly smile. “Probably the cops.”

The bored patrol officers measured the footprint, told her the sole was too smudged to identify the shoe type and dusted her window for prints. There were none.

Her concern about Jack coming in contact with the police was groundless, since they seemed about as interested in him as they did the victimless crime.

They hovered at her door, ready to leave. The taller officer gripped the door handle and turned. “Maybe someone was here when you came home, and you scared him off before he could take anything.”

The other one chimed in. “Maybe it was a friend who needed to get in for some reason.”

Lola blinked her eyes and raised her brows at the unlikely scenarios, but then these guys didn’t know the turmoil of her life. And she wasn’t going to fill them in.

As she ushered them into the hallway, thanking them, the shorter cop, the Cuban, turned slightly. “Aren’t you Eduardo Famosa’s daughter?”

Or maybe they did know the turmoil. Lola’s jaw tightened and she clenched her teeth as she nodded.

The cop’s eyes rounded. “You don’t think this break-in…”

He broke off as Lola narrowed her eyes and tilted her chin. “My father’s been dead for over three years.”

“Of course, of course.” He waved his hands and practically dragged his partner toward the elevator.

Avoiding Jack’s penetrating stare, Lola picked up a cushion in the shape of a daisy and plumped it in the corner of the sofa. “Should’ve figured the guy wore gloves. I suppose a smeared footprint isn’t going to be much use.”

“Who’s your father?”

“My father’s dead.”

“I gathered that, but who was he when he was alive?”

Lola hugged the daisy to her chest and perched on the edge of the coffee table. “My father was an influential businessman in the Cuban community. He had a lot of friends, and he had just as many enemies.”

“Like the barkeep’s father?”

“Mario’s dad was a friend. He just stepped out of line one too many times.”

Jack’s eyes were unreadable slits of obsidian. “Are you saying your father had Mario’s father killed?”

“I have my suspicions, but nobody could prove that.” She rubbed her upper arms. “Nobody could prove anything about my father.”

“That officer’s question has me wondering the same thing. Could any of this—” he waved his arms around the room “—have anything to do with your father’s business?”

She squeezed the pillow tighter. “I don’t think so, Jack. Gabe and I sold off most of Dad’s holdings when he and my mother passed away.”

“Passed away at the same time? How did they die?”

Lola’s throat ached, but only for her mother, the dutiful wife who had deferred to her husband in everything…even death. “There was a radon gas leak in their home. They both died in their sleep.”

Jack sucked in a breath. “Was it an accident?”

“The investigators ruled it an accident…nothing could be proved otherwise.”

“That’s tough. I’m sorry. And now your brother has been missing for over six months.”

“And someone apparently thinks I know something.”

Jack lifted a solid shoulder. “Or someone thinks you know me.”

Okay, time to get a spine back. Lola tossed the pillow onto the sofa. “Thanks for hanging around and talking to the cops with me. Really, I’m completely sober now, and I can give you a ride back to your motel.”

“I’m not leaving you here alone tonight.” He widened his stance and dug his heels into her wood floor as if he expected some kind of resistance.

All her resistance had been stamped out by that dirty footprint in her bathtub, but she should at least give it the old college try. “You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You’re still shaky. You’re pale. You don’t need to be alone tonight.”

The fluttering in her belly made her feel shaky again, but it had nothing to do with the break-in. Usually when a man tossed around orders, her hackles stood at attention. But her father had given orders to protect himself, never to protect her.

How this man could worry about her when facing his own fractured life spoke volumes about his character. Even if he couldn’t remember his life as a hostage negotiator, those same protective instincts had charged to the forefront of his brain.

“I’ll bunk on that bed of flowers.” He leveled a finger at the sofa. “Looks a lot more comfortable than the lumpy mattress at the hotel.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.” She wrinkled her nose. “Might be a little short for you.”

“I’ll manage. Then I’ll be up and out of here early before you go to work.”

“I’m off for two weeks. Several months ago, I planned a trip to the Bahamas with a couple of girlfriends, but with everything going on I canceled. Couldn’t cancel my time off, though.”

The planes of Jack’s face shifted, hardened. She’d found it difficult through the night to gauge his feelings from his expressions. Perhaps his guardedness came from his memory loss, or maybe his profession had taken over even if he couldn’t remember anything about it.

“Then you can relax and get some sleep. Any chance you have an extra toothbrush?”

“Of course.” She backpedaled toward the hallway, reluctant to tear her gaze away from her savior. Crouching before the hall closet, she grabbed a new toothbrush courtesy of her dentist. Then she reached for the top shelf to retrieve a blanket.

She returned to the living room and interrupted Jack sliding his weapon onto the coffee table.

“I don’t think your intruder will return, but I’ll have a surprise waiting for him if he does.”

Lola dropped the toothbrush next to the gun and placed the folded blanket on the middle cushion of the couch. “I—I’m glad you’re staying.”

“It’s the least I can do since I probably led this guy to your doorstep.” Jack scooped up the toothbrush and shut the bathroom door behind him.

She doubted that, since Jack denied being anywhere near the hospital morgue tonight. She’d drawn someone’s attention all by herself, or at least with the help of her globe-trotting brother.

Lola sauntered to her bedroom, pulling the elastic band from her ponytail. She had no desire to step into the shower now. She dropped the ponytail holder onto the dresser and ran her hands through her hair.

Studying her face in the mirror, she flattened out the crease between her eyebrows with the pad of her thumb. Did Jack Coburn expect her to help him recover his memories? Or would he be off following another path once he spoke to Emilio?

The gaping emptiness she felt at that last thought made her sink to the foot of her bed. How had the man insinuated himself into her mind so quickly and so easily? She’d always been a sucker for a lost cause. And the vulnerability of Jack’s situation, combined with his tough-as-nails exterior, was a potent mix for her addled brain.

She peeled off her clothes for the second time that night and slipped a nightgown over her head. She crawled between the covers and hugged a pillow to her chest.

Groaning, she rolled to her side and punched the pillow. She’d given Jack a blanket but no pillow. The poor guy already faced a night of discomfort on that short couch. She scrambled out of bed and flicked on the hall light. A low light glowed from the living room, and Lola peeked around the corner.

Jack, a pair of boxers hanging low on his hips, stood at the window gazing into the street below. As Lola tiptoed forward, a floorboard creaked, and Jack jerked his head up, a lock of black hair falling over one eye.

“Thought you might need this.” She held up the pillow, willing her gaze to stay pinned to Jack’s face instead of wandering down the length of his hard, lean body.

If Jack felt embarrassed about being caught in nothing but his underwear, his dark eyes burning into her very soul didn’t show it. He held her captive with that gaze, and she froze in the middle of the room, the pillow clutched in her hand.

A current ran between them, strong and vibrant. If she went to him now, fell against his bare chest, it would be more natural than taking her next breath. Everything about him called out to her, demanded a response. Quick. Hot. Sure.