Читать книгу Reckless Pleasures - Tori Carrington - Страница 12

CHALLENGE WAS JASON Savage’s middle name and had been ever since he was an unwanted kid. Never one to wallow in the past, he rarely thought about an upbringing that would make anyone gasp…and he certainly never used it to elicit sympathy from the opposite sex. He could count on three fingers the number of people who knew what motivated him…and the first two only because they’d gone through it with him.

The third…well, he was in Afghanistan now.

Speaking of which…

Jason had no sooner pulled the rented SUV to a stop in front of the motel the Lazarus group would call home base in central Florida than Darius’s girl hopped out of the passenger’s seat, her polished combat boots hitting the ground running.

He shook his head, put the car in park and shut off the engine, leaving the keys in the ignition in case it was needed fast.

Jason stared after her, thinking of his friend. In the four months since Dari’d shipped off, he’d been impressed with Megan at every turn. Oh, sure, he knew she was a Marine, and that allowed for a measure of capability, but she surpassed his expectations.

She was strong and smart and knew her way around a minefield.

He’d no sooner made his own contact regarding the missing kid than she’d popped up in his open doorway with one of her own. In his case, it was an old college buddy who’d gone into intelligence and was something or other in the FBI.

Hers was the local sheriff who appeared to be happy for any professional help.

Within four hours the team was on the ground, motel rooms and transportation arranged, and a game plan sketched out.

Jason suddenly realized that his gaze was glued to Megan’s ass under the khaki of her pants. Damn, but the girl had a body on her.

He swallowed thickly and got out of the truck.

While it wasn’t the first time he’d appreciated her curves—sometimes even in front of Dari—for some reason, his attention seemed inappropriate now.

Megan turned toward him. “Jason Savage, this is Deputy Adams. He’s going to be acting as liaison between us and the sheriff’s office.”

He shook the deputy’s hand, friendly enough but instantly dismissing the kid. Jason knew he wasn’t going to be any help at all. He’d be lucky to find his johnson in a windstorm.

“This the place?” he said unnecessarily, since he already knew it was. But it gave him an excuse to round the deputy. He was Megan’s contact; she could handle him.

And if the way the deputy hiked up his pants in disdain at his obvious dismissal was any indication, Jason had the feeling she was going to have her work cut out for her.

Locals.

But it was important for the hazards team to have an in there. The sheriff and his personnel could cause them a lot of grief if they weren’t playing on the same side.

He stepped up to the motel sidewalk and walked to the first room, pushing open the door. “Central command,” he said. “Everybody stow their stuff and meet here in ten.” He then walked over to the second room, where he planned to claim as his own quarters.

He wasn’t surprised to see Megan choose the next room down, and the rest of the five-person team they’d brought with them following suit down the line.

He left his door open and dropped his duffel on the foot of the bed before going into the small bathroom in the back and washing his face. No matter where he was, the feel of cold water always gave him the sensation of being in control. It helped shrug off the dirt and hassles from travel and regroup for the task at hand.

And right now that happened to be finding little Finley Szymanski….

WITHIN TWENTY MINUTES a large swivel whiteboard had been brought in that boasted a corkboard on the other side, along with other organizational equipment. Megan walked in front of it, tacking photos of the missing seven-year-old to the board along with physical characteristics, while Jason pinned up a map, indicating where the girl had gone missing and the location of her house.

“According to the report, she was out bike riding at around seven the last anyone saw her,” Jason said.

“Was the bike found?”

“No.”

“Who saw her?”

“A neighbor.”

“The last time she had contact with a family member?”

“Five-thirty, just after dinner. Her sister.”

“How old is the sister?”

“Ten.”

“Friends?”

Jason uncapped a marker and enlarged dots already made on the map. “These are where her friends live…”

The last one he circled edged a large thatch of forest.

They all leaned back and groaned.

“Right,” Megan said. “We’re talking over twenty-five hundred acres of land here. And I don’t think I have to point out that this area of Florida has had a lot of rain and the ground is oversaturated. As a result, there are some parts the sheriff’s personnel haven’t been able to reach yet.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dominic Falzone asked. “What, are they afraid of getting their feet wet?”

A couple of chuckles and added insults.

Megan looked toward the door where she knew the deputy was talking to the motel manager just outside.

“We’ll be working together as a team, guys, so I’d appreciate it if you could keep the insults to a minimum.”

Dominic Falzone was a decorated war vet, a tried-and-true Marine, but his mouth had landed the dark-haired, dark-eyed Lazarus team member into more than his fair share of hot water.

Jason stepped up. “Since conditions today are much like they were yesterday, search personnel probably guessed there was no way the girl could have gotten in and out of those areas by herself.”

Megan’s fingers tightened on her own marker.

Of course, what went unsaid was that someone could have taken her in there.

“Listen up, this is the plan…”

Within ten minutes Jason had outlined where he wanted them to enter the forest, each at twenty-five-yard intervals.

“Okay, we don’t have much usable daylight left,” he said. “Grab your gear and let’s get going.”

It was only 4:00 p.m., but since it would be darker inside the forest without direct sunlight, they estimated maybe three hours before they’d have to call it quits for the night.

Of course, Megan fully expected there to be objections.

She hefted her own bag and followed the team out of the room, watching where Lazarus partner Lincoln Williams stood against the wall outside, having listened without participating, every bit the spook he had once been with the FBI, smoking a cigarette. He pitched it to the curb and followed.

IT WAS AFTER TEN before they returned to the motel and after midnight before the command center emptied out except for him and Megan. Other team members had returned to their own rooms to catch what sleep they could before rising again at 5:00 a.m.

Jason sat back in one of the extra chairs that had been brought in. While they were away, the motel owner had arranged to have the beds removed and chairs and two folded tables brought in instead. Jason didn’t feel tired in the least. They’d made good ground today. But they needed to find the girl soon.

“Where did Linc get off to?” Megan asked, stretching.

“Lord knows. Even when he’s here, I hardly know it.”

A ghost of a smile. “Tell me about it. The guy’s as big as a train car, but if he doesn’t want to be seen, he won’t be.”

Jason thought about pushing the box of cold hot wings her way, wondering if she’d refuse. He hadn’t seen her eat much of anything all day, always busy doing something or other, either checking notes or surveying the map and detailing tomorrow’s route.

He nearly sighed in relief when she reached for the box herself, pulling it forward and taking out one of the sticky chicken wings. He leaned back and took a beer from a cooler, twisted off the top and handed it to her.

“Thanks.”

He opened himself one and then rocked back on the chair legs, watching her.

She made no attempt to take dainty bites, the way he’d seen countless women before her do. And when she took a pull from the beer, it was a genuine tip-your-head-back slug that emptied half the bottle.

He grinned and absently rubbed his chin. If not for the way her T-shirt emphasized her breasts, he might think she was one of the guys.

His gaze homed in on her mouth and he felt a strangely familiar tightening of his pants across his groin. Oh, no, even without makeup and a dress, there was absolutely nothing masculine about Megan McGowan.

“What?”

He blinked up into her blue eyes, realizing he’d been caught. “Nothing.” He pointed toward her mouth. “You’ve got a bit of sauce…yeah, right there.”

She wiped at the red dot with her napkin and continued eating.

“Good?”

“Huh?” She looked at the wing in her hand. “I didn’t even notice. I’m operating on automatic right now.”

Jason let the chair legs clunk to the floor. “Yeah, me, too.”

“They’re not bad, I guess.” She shrugged. “I’m not a big wings girl, really.”

“What kind of girl are you, really?”

She smiled. “A regular fried-chicken kind of girl.”

He chuckled and swallowed a good portion of his beer.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say. Given the direction of his earlier thoughts, maybe something like filet mignon or salmon.

Instead, she’d chosen what might possibly be an even sloppier and more fattening alternative.

This from the girl who had passed on fries the other night.

Of course, like him, she understood her body needed the calories. Running as they had that day, they could easily burn double a regular day’s nutrients.

“You’re staring again.” She laughed.

“I am?” He was.

Jason ran his hand over his face, watching as she checked her silent cell phone for the tenth time in the past ten minutes.

“Heard anything more?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You?”

“Nope. Figured you were lucky to have heard from him when you did. Lord only knows how long he’ll be out.”

He watched her frown.

In all the time Megan and Dari had been a couple, he didn’t think he’d talked to her as much as he had in the past four months. Or looked at her more than he had today. She was his best friend’s girl—period.

Yeah? Then what was he still doing there watching her eat rather than hightailing it back to his own room for some shut-eye?

“So…” he said. “You two talk about getting hitched?”

Her brows hiked up on her forehead. “Nah. Not seriously.”

“But you have talked about it.”

She shrugged noncommittally, her movements seeming to slow.

Finally, she put down the wing she was eating and wiped her hands.

“Well,” she said, looking everywhere but at him. “It’s going to be an early morning, so I think I’m going to hit the sack.”

Jason cleared his throat. “Yeah, me too.”

She began gathering the boxes and empty bottles on the table.

“Leave it. I’ll make sure the motel staff picks it up before five.”

“Thanks.”

She moved toward the door. Was it his imagination, or did she seem a little distracted?

“God. Where is my head?”

She backtracked to the table and picked up her phone.

She’d forgotten her cell?

“Well…good night.”

Jason cleared his throat and reached for another beer. “Good night.”

He stopped short of adding “Sweet dreams.” Truth was he was afraid his dreams tonight were going to be too sweet. And chances were high they were going to feature her….