Hadi sprinted across the parking lot and headed upstairs; he jimmied the lock. He stood in the doorway of the room, stared down at Stuart and raised both palms to the sky, then took the stairs to the lower level two at a time, and headed to the office, his gun drawn. Stuart scowled and hurried over to make sure there was no killing of innocent people
. Damn Hadi.
Still, he knew the man must be about as frustrated as he was. He moved into the office behind him and stood blocking the glass door entrance.
“When did the two blokes in 205 leave?” Hadi asked the manager, waving the gun in the man’s face.
“Don’t shoot.” The manager’s voice quivered. He raised both hands and stepped away from the desk. “Around noon. Is…something wrong?”
“Yeah. We’re undercover cops,” Hadi said, smoothly dropping his British accent as he slipped his gun into his waistband. “Sorry.” He ran a hand over his head, sweeping away the sweat and rubbing his hand on the seat of his pants. “Didn’t mean to scare you, been tracking these fellows for days and they keep giving us the slip.”
“Oh, I…they seemed quiet, no trouble…except for the fire in their jeep.”
“No forwarding number or contact, I suppose?” Hadi asked.
The manager shook his head. “No.” He pulled the motel register toward him with shaking hands. “They’d paid one night in cash, and they called from the road saying they’d checked out.”
Hadi nodded again and moved to the door. “Well, we might swing by again. Their rental jeep is still in your parking lot. They’ll have to come back for it. Keep your eyes open. They’re armed and dangerous.”
“No, no, the car rental office already called,” the manager said, his voice squeaking. “The customer had a problem with the ignition. They’re sending a tow truck. I’ve already had the room cleaned, it was all in order. Only thing they did wrong was leave the slider open.”
“Any other way out of the rooms on the second floor?” Hadi asked, already across the small office. Stuart moved aside to let him exit.
“Not unless they climbed down the tree.”
Outside the front of the motel Stuart stared up at room number 205, and the perfect climbing tree that reached to the terrace. He slapped his head. He couldn’t win.
He walked back to the car behind Hadi, who fumed and swore in his native tongue.
Stuart swallowed hard and dialed Col’s private number.
“How in blazes did that happen?” Col asked. “I told you not to let them out of sight.”
Stuart explained about the tree. He felt like setting that fucking tree on fire, too. Not that that would help his situation.
“I’m getting tired of this,” Col said. “First you lose the girl, and now the two men.”
Hadi slumped across the steering wheel, one hand covering his crotch, the other gripping the steering wheel.
Stuart figured Col would take it out on him, too. Col relayed the information to someone else in his office. Stuart listened to their voices, raised, angry. The other bloke was saying something about the restriction on using guns, and yelled at Col that they should take out the bastards.
Col came on the line, his voice icy. “Find them. Shoot if you have to,” he said.
“I’ll put Hadi on.” Stuart handed the mobile to him.
“All right, boss,” Hadi said and nodded. “No, we won’t let them get to Bungumby.”
Stuart beckoned for the phone and Hadi handed it over. “Is Amy there?” he asked.
“The other tail I had on them believes so.”
“It’s a resort. We can’t have innocent people harmed, we—”
“Oh, for chrissakes, stop your whimpering. I told Hadi, no shooting at Bungumby,” Col said.
“Okay.”
“I’m sure the two blokes are trailing Amy.” Col’s voice softened. “They wouldn’t know Meg was there.”
Stuart nodded but remained silent.
“Observe and report back, but no shooting. Shoot out their tires, but no shooting at the lodge. Slow them down if you can. There’s a storm coming in.”
“You want me to stay at the lodge?”
“Jesus man, do I have to hold your hand? Leave the bloody car beyond the rise and track down to the other side of the waterfall. Hadi knows the spot. We camped there before when we were checking into buying the place. Under no circumstances do you let those people get friendly with Meg. She knows too much.”
Stuart froze at those last words.
“You hear me?”
“Yes. We’ll keep you posted.” Stuart closed the cover on the mobile.
“Camping?” Hadi asked and lit a cigarette.
Stuart nodded, and the sweat trickled down his back even though icy air blew from the AC vents. He thought of the stinky sleeping bags rolled up in the back of the jeep.
“Allah be praised,” Hadi murmured.
For the first time he had the inkling that Hadi was not entirely obedient to Col and Col’s wishes. Maybe his big plans could still work? “Why do you do this, Hadi? I mean work for Col?”
Hadi drove the jeep out onto the highway. “I help my people at home.”
“Jakarta?”
Hadi nodded. Stuart figured it was all drug related. There were cells of people like Hadi all over the world raising money for their private movements. Drug money paid for arms. Terrorist cells waiting, training, biding their time. They had the drugs in Hadi’s country. Col and people like him had the money. It was a case of scratching each other’s backs.
Hadi shoved the gun at him. “Put this is the glove compartment.”
Stuart almost dropped the damn thing. “We’ll need supplies, water, cigarettes, beer, potato chips, fruit bars, and more ammo. My treat,” Stuart said, composing himself. “We neglected to tell Col that we’d last seen the two men around eleven o’clock this morning”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Hadi laughed, pressed the lit end of his cigarette against a fresh one and tossed the butt out the window.
Crisp grass lined the highway, but Stuart resisted mentioning forest fires and fines. It was a three or four hour drive to Bungumby. No chance they’d catch up to the men or shoot out their tires. He prayed this trip wouldn’t be a wild goose chase. He hardly ever smoked, but now he needed one. “Can I bludge a cigarette?”
“Help yourself.”
Stuart lit up and relaxed. He supposed nighttime was the best time to arrive, but that would mean tracking through the rainforest in the dark. His skin itched at the thought. He wouldn’t get to see much either. Wouldn’t even know what cabin they were in, not in the dark, but then again, Hadi did have the night vision scope, his bird. Well, bird was going to have to do the job for them. He shuddered when he realized he’d almost said, “Allah be praised.”
Col wouldn’t risk calling on the mobile tonight. The sound would be heard in the silence of the forest. Stuart blew out a puff of smoke. Minutes later, they pulled into a roadside market, made their purchases and sat staring out into the underbrush.
Hadi reached into the cardboard carton and pulled out a stubbie. “Grab a cold one.”
Stuart did. Hadi ripped off the cap of his bottle with the opener on his keychain, downed the first beer, tossed the bottle onto the back seat, and reached for a second. Stuart knew what to do; he’d trust his instincts. Play along. Be a good buddy. His instincts had never failed him yet.
If they had to shoot someone, they’d bloody well shoot. Or, at least, Hadi would.
Chapter Nine
So much for Jake being willing to share the bed. Amy sighed and put down her book.
Jake had taken the extra blankets from the closet, folded up the quilt off the bed, and made himself a sleeping bag on the floor. He was so damn private, too, and uptight as all hell. He’d locked himself in the bathroom to change his shirt before going to dinner. Now he was in there again, putting on something to wear to bed.
She’d changed into a pair of shortie pjs and sat propped up in bed. Too bad they couldn’t get internet connection. She had her laptop but hadn’t been able to play on it for days, and she was having severe withdrawal symptoms. Between no email, no telephone in the cabin, and a monosyllabic roommate, she figured she might go mad by the weekend. There was no television either, but at least she had a book. On the desk in the corner were several game sets. Pictionary, Scrabble, and a few she didn’t recognize. The door to the bathroom opened, and she grabbed her book, turning to a random page.
“I’m going to sit out…on the deck,” Jake said gruffly, without glancing her way.
“Okay. Um, if you get bored we could play Scrabble.”
He nodded and walked outside, pulling the sliding door closed behind him. He wore gray sweat pants, a navy blue T-shirt and hiking boots. It was almost ten p.m., about ninety degrees and still humid.
He’s gonna get hot in those boots.
The book was great, but the sex scenes were just too damn good, and this was not the time or place for such things. Thank goodness she’d turned up the overhead fan’s speed. Even if he didn’t want cold air, she did.
Thirty minutes later, Jake came to the door and slid it open. “Oh, you’re still awake.”
“Yeah, can’t sleep.” She closed the book. He was hot and sweaty, his cheeks were flushed and his hair damp around the hairline.
He looked awkwardly around the room. “Still want to play Scrabble?”
“Sure.”
Amy got up grabbed the box and upended it onto the bed. She couldn’t believe her luck. Even stilted conversation with Jake was better than sitting in the cabin in silence. “Sit here,” she said and patted the white cotton coverlet. “It’s cooler because the fan’s above us.”
He sat, and she tossed him a couple of extra pillows.
“Prop yourself up.” He seemed so damn uncomfortable. “Look, I know this is awkward for you, Jake, but just think of me as a sister or a cousin, or something. Okay?”
He stared at her for a moment, untied his hiking boots and pulled off his socks. He dropped them onto the floor at the side of the bed. Then he peeled off the damp T-shirt to reveal gorgeous muscles and a fine spattering of dark chest hair. He tossed the T-shirt onto the floor, reached over and fiddled with the radio alarm clock and found a golden oldies station. Music played softly in the background. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
She smiled. It was a start. Maybe they could be friends.
He sprawled across the bed. “Let’s play.”
An hour later, Amy had won two games and was almost ready for sleep. She had to admit, it had been fun, light and friendly, if you could call any communication with Jake Turner light, or friendly. Still, it had been a lot better than she’d expected, Jake performing a mini-strip-tease,
and
playing Scrabble was way better than the novel she’d been reading.
He challenged her to a third game.
“Raincheck?” she asked, and snuggled down under the coverlet.
“Sure. So, you never told me what type of psychologist you are,” he said.
Amy smiled from underneath the covers. “Maybe because you never asked.” She was tired, but for Jake she’d keep her eyes open. This was surely going to spin him back into that uncomfortable zone. But he needed shocking, even if it was a lie. “I’m a sex therapist,” she said and tried not to laugh.
He cocked his head, one dark blond recently color-treated eyebrow arched. “So you deal with issues of intimacy?”
“Yes. We have a lab. We work with couples.”
“How?”
“We help them explore their issues, encourage them to be playful.” That was good enough for now. She wouldn’t go deeper into the subject. Besides, being a child psychologist was light years away from being a sex therapist.
“What exactly do you do?” he asked. “Do you…ah…is it a hands-on lab?”
Hands on
? Oh, yeah, she could just picture herself in some tantric sex class, walking around the room and positioning the naked bodies of couples into various sexual positions. She almost laughed out loud…almost said she was a sex guru. “Well, in a way. It is instructional through the use of video cameras.”
“How, I mean, you actually watch couples doing it?”
“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Amy asked, and stifled a yawn. She turned onto her side. “I’m really tired. That is unless you have a problem and you want to talk about that? I mean, if you’re having sexual dysfunction problems and it’s a concern—”
“No, nothing like that,” he said quickly and packed up the Scrabble pieces. “I was just inquiring.”
Amy slid further under the covers and hid her grin.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “And I want a rematch.”
Amy popped her head up.
He tapped the lid of the Scrabble box and put it on the desk. “I think you cheated.”
“Did not.”
“Yeah, well, last time I checked a dictionary, extreme was spelled beginning with the letter e not x.”
Sliding deeper beneath the sheets, Amy grinned broadly. “Nighty-night, Jake. If it gets too uncomfortable on the floor, just hop into the bed, okay?”
“Sure. Lights out?”
Amy nodded, pulled a pillow tight to her chest and closed her eyes.
****
Jake woke first the following morning and had to get the hell out of the room in a hurry. Amy was way too sexy. Her arms were wrapped around a pillow, and her soft, dark hair contrasted with the pure white of the pillowcase. The covers were tossed back and the pajama bottoms were hiked up to reveal the soft curves of flesh where her buttocks and thigh met so enticingly. He remembered her ease talking about sex and therapy last night. She was confident in her chosen career. He wondered what went on in the mind of a sex therapist on a normal day. Were they constantly evaluating? Taking notes?
He squared his shoulders. Not that he had any problems in that regard. Aware of his arousal, he reminded himself she was a woman with a purpose. And she was his employer’s daughter, so there was no way he’d jeopardize his relationship with old man Helm. He had to protect the woman. Those were his orders.
Besides, once she found her ex she’d be high-tailing it out of here, back to her ritzy sex therapy psychology practice. He needed a shower but wasn’t about to awaken her with the noise. He stepped over his make-shift bed, grabbed hiking boots, socks, and the T-shirt he’d left on the floor last night. He dressed in the bathroom and let himself out of the cabin, closing the door softly. Not ready for conversation with Sarge either, he sat on the bottom step and laced up his boots.