Once Burned (Task Force Eagle) (22 page)

“Any of our suspects could be divers. We can figure
that out when we’re rescued. Who might know that much about electronics or
explosives?”

A gust of wind flung waves of rain onto the shack’s
roof. The thrown-together building trembled but held.

He wagged his head. “More than you think. Construction
crews need to blast granite ledge for foundations. Even Kevin must know how to
control the timing.”

“Then Brandon should be included in that list. He
could’ve attached the bomb before he was arrested. I don’t know about the
harbormaster.”

“Don’t count out Mike Spear or Steve Quimby. Both of
them work with construction supply outlets. That might include knowledge of
explosives.”

“As you so helpfully pointed out to me, you can find
out on the Internet how to make a bomb. But timing the explosive tonight means
whoever it is wanted to kill us both. Our bad guy is targeting you as well as
me. We’ve both asked too many questions.”

“Agreed.” His whole body sagged. “I sent some
information to Robichaud, but all our notes are at the bottom of the bay.”

“Our printouts and in my laptop. Do you suppose a tech
wizard can retrieve my student progress charts from a wet hard drive?” Lani’s
eyes flashed with fury. “
I
will dry off, but someone’s gonna pay for
that.”

He pounded a fist on the floor. “Keeping you with me
to protect you, I only endangered you more.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s freaking
all
your fault, Jake
Wescott. Trying to find Gail’s killer just puts everyone in danger. You should
just go back to Boston and forget the whole damn thing. Never mind the murderer
should be caught and punished.” She rolled her eyes.

In spite of himself, he had to grin. “Message
received. But if you’d stayed in town, you’d be enjoying the fireworks, not
stuck out here in a leaky shed.”

“I’d rather swim back to the mainland than watch
fireworks.”

Her shudder reminded him how traumatized the barn fire
had left her. How she’d frozen at the sight of the smoldering cat. Her
nightmares seemed to have fled since they’d been sleeping together but the fear
remained. Probably always would linger in the recesses of her mind.

Her fierce expression softened. “And I’d rather be
stuck out here
with
you than be worrying about you.”

He scooted closer and curved an arm around her
shoulders. Rain clattered harder on the shingled roof. “I’ll have to phone
Uncle Joe tomorrow to tell him about the
Amy Jo
.”

“I’m sorry about your uncle’s boat.”

“Insurance should help him recoup the loss. I doubt he’d
have gotten much for it anyway.” Inhaling the scent of Lani’s hair and feeling
her softness made him prefer to forget he’d just lost his home. When she
shivered for the fourth time, he said, “We should get out of these wet clothes
and warm each other up.”

She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “You wouldn’t
try anything, would you, Wescott?” Her eyes looked hopeful.

He affected a
who, me?
expression. “My
intentions are pure, Cameron. I’m worried about a certain woman jumping my
bones.”

She laughed and started peeling off her sopping jeans.

Soon they were down to skin. Their clothing hung from
nails on the walls or lay spread out on the hard floor. He stretched out and
she lay beside him under the crinkly blanket. Orange polyester on one side and
aluminum sheeting on the other, the emergency blanket wasn’t soft or warm.
Instead it formed a reflective barrier to retain body heat.

“Survival blanket. I learned about these when I took a
safety course for teacher recertification credit,” Lani said, running her hand
over the blanket’s slick surface. “I don’t know how good this one is. Feels
chilly so far.”

Jake smiled. “We need to increase our body heat. I
have just the way.”

“That should work.” She turned her head and met his
mouth.

Chapter 24

Jake snugged her closer and nuzzled her ear, enjoying
her sweet scent, laced with a salty tang. Sweet and salty. Like Lani herself.

When her index finger trailed a sizzling fuse down his
chest to his navel, he drew back, sucking in a breath. His heart raced, but the
cloud of doubt in her eyes snagged him. The past few days but he’d been so hot
for her he didn’t think at all, knew only burning fever. He should’ve paid more
attention to her belief she didn’t measure up to her sister. Greedy bastard.

He had to clasp her shoulders to stop his hands from
shaking with need. He should’ve said this sooner. “Lani, I sure as hell know
you’re not Gail. I never wanted Gail the way I want you. Whatever I wanted when
I was a boy isn’t what—or who—I want now.”

“I want you too. I wanted you back then.” With a smile
as seductive as Eve’s, she kissed him again and his heart turned over.

He exhaled the breath he’d been holding. Rolling atop
her, he trapped her between his arms. “I want to take it slowly tonight. I want
a leisurely journey of anticipation, but you make restraint near impossible.”

“Well, then. The challenge is on.”

Her flirtatious air softened as his index finger
traced the plump upper curves of her breasts. She sucked in a breath when he
stroked one nipple to pebbled arousal.

He bent to her left breast, and the right, first
brushing his lips over the peaked nipples, then laving and tasting the salty
coating and unique taste of her skin.

When he opened his mouth and suckled her, she arched
upward with a small cry of pleasure. He kissed down to her flat stomach.
Dizziness pulsed in his head, in his loins. In his heart. His need for her
overwhelmed him.

That she trusted him touched him more deeply than her
desire for him. Lani had journeyed from fearing his intentions to reliance on
his skills and honor and finally to trust. In spite of the doubts remaining
between them and the danger facing them, she opened herself to him. It humbled
him.

She opened her arms. He craved her with an ache as
powerful as a fever. “Sure you still want to take your time?”

He donned protection so fast she laughed.

“You had a condom in your pocket?”

“With you, I need to be prepared at all times.”

She laughed again until he silenced her with his
mouth. They kissed with all the hunger and passion and intensity in their
souls. He stroked her body as she moved beneath him and their insulating cover
crinkled and slid off.

She caressed his skin, traced the contours of his
muscles and rubbed his sensitive nipples until he ground his teeth. She kissed
him as if he was the hottest guy on the planet and they weren’t lying on a
plank floor in a cold, damp shack. As if she couldn’t help herself. As if he
was the only thing in her world.

Hell. He’d never been anything special. She was the
one who was special. She made him feel like the king of the world. As if he
could give her everything, do anything, be anything. With her, for her. If only
he could live up to the way she made him feel.

He murmured with excitement and turned for better
access to her. He massaged between her legs, first in gentle circles, then
deeply.

Moaning, she reached for him, explored and circled,
cupping him and stroking him. “Now, Jake, now.”

When they joined, he groaned at the exquisite
sensation. Slowly, he pushed deeper, and the wonder of it, the joy of the deep
oneness he felt with her stilled him. Stunned him. Awed him. She locked her
legs around him. Ancient rhythms rocked them, and they kissed endlessly as the
need for release built.

He stiffened, fire surging in his blood, poised on the
edge, straining to hold back until she joined him. And then she cried out, her
strong legs gripping him, her body rippling beneath him, and he joined her in
release.

Afterward when they found the space blanket kicked
against the far wall, they laughed. He retrieved it and doused the lantern.
Holding each other beneath its reflective warmth, they talked in the dark.

“Your student charts,” he said, relishing the tickle
of her hair on his chin, “do you have hard copies?”

She sighed. “Doubles. In each student’s file and my
working copies. But losing the computer file means filling in new forms and
starting from scratch. I’ll manage.”

“All may not be lost. Hard drives are glass, enclosed
in plastic. Your student data and some of our notes may be retrievable.”

She gazed up at him. “Small comfort at the moment, but
thanks.”

He urged her to tell him more about her students. Some
she couldn’t help, and those tore at her heart but she smiled at her successes.
A learning disabled boy named Scott whose reading and spelling struggles had
led to anger issues. Sometimes he just needed a place where he could be quiet,
she said. Her resource room offered him that space. A girl named Joy with ADHD
who daily lost pens and pencils, books, and lunch money had resisted help but
finally accepted her as “manager.” And a boy named Michael with cerebral palsy,
who could barely make his speech understood and used a walker but who wrote
beautiful poetry on the computer.

“You’re amazing, honey. But it shouldn’t surprise me
you can reach insecure kids.”

“You’re amazing too,” she said, dropping a kiss on his
chest. “You’ve saved my life several times, maybe some we don’t even know
about. Not being able to protect anyone is a load of crap. Why don’t you tell
me about what happened in New Hampshire?”

Maybe it was being cocooned in the dark beneath the
emergency blanket, or maybe it was Lani’s gentle hand on his body. But he began
talking.

“Some kids on ATVs saw tire tracks leading to a
defunct old sawmill outside the little burg of Grafton. Out in nowhere. The
local cop knew to be on the lookout, passed on the info to the task force. The
place didn’t seem to be guarded so no raid, only a scouting mission to check
out the site. Maria Soriano was my only partner that day.”

“ATF or DEA?” she asked.

“ATF. We’d worked together before. Were friends. I’d
been to her house for cookouts, played golf with her husband.” He sucked in a
breath as he allowed himself to think about Tom’s grief. About their two
daughters.

“Anyway. We left our car in some bushes on a side
road. Checked the woods and made sure the place was really deserted. Found the
tire tracks and where some big crates had been stored inside but nothing
incriminating.” He could smell the moldy sawdust clumped on the floor and oily
residue on the machinery, hear the skitter of rats in the corners.

“When we gave it up as a bad tip, we headed back to
the car. Soriano—” calling her Maria made the telling too painfully personal “—went
ahead of me to check under the car for explosives while I stood watch. Standard
procedure. But the weeds underfoot were wet and she slipped. Grabbed for the
door handle to break her fall. The car exploded in a ball of flame and shooting
shrapnel. She was killed instantly.”

“Oh, God, Jake, I’m so sorry. And you?” Her hand
pressed the leg scar.

“The blast threw me back into the trees. The only
reason I didn’t die, I guess. Knocked me out cold. Jagged metal from the car
impaled my leg. Lucky I didn’t bleed out. Either the smugglers had just
returned or the whole thing was a trap. When we didn’t report in, the task
force sent help.”

“You were partners. You weren’t responsible for what
happened. It could’ve as easily been you.”

“That’s what the task-force leader said.” The words
hadn’t helped then, but for some reason, hearing them from Lani did.

“You can’t help trying to protect everyone, but try
not to feel responsible for everything that goes wrong.” She smiled. “Unless
you want to try to take responsibility for all that goes right.” She kissed
him, first on the jagged scar, then on the lips, before vowing she wouldn’t be
able to sleep. In moments she was breathing evenly, head pillowed on his left
arm.

He lay back, head on his linked hands, careful not to
disturb her. He listened to the rain drumming on the roof, every rat-tat a
reproach. The boat sabotage meant they had concrete evidence proving the
attacks on Lani, and now him. The time they had together was coming to an end,
and soon. Every day spent together, every time she made him smile or laugh,
every time they held each other made that harder to imagine. He’d wanted to
avoid getting involved, afraid he’d fail her. She’d pointed out he saved her
life more than once already. But he was still afraid. Look how close they came
tonight.

Now that he’d acknowledged his feelings for her weren’t
fleeting, what the hell was he going to do about it? If he lived to do
something about it. If he
could
do something about it.

The bomber might come around in the morning looking
for debris and bodies. Jake had his sidearm, a multi-tool, and a couple of
flares. Hardly enough if their attacker had major firepower.

*****

Lani woke to silence except for the squawk of a
seagull. No rain. Thank goodness. The front had swirled on to torment tourists
Down-East. She tried to finger-comb her hair but dried salt held a shape better
than industrial-strength hairspray. It didn’t bear thinking about how she must
look since she could do nothing about it.

She struggled into her still-damp jeans. “Yow, these
feel like an evil laundry demon starched and sprinkled them with gravel for
extra abrasion.”

“I wouldn’t want to be our mad bomber when you get in
his face.” Jake chuckled as he too did battle with his stiff jeans. His
salt-crusted hair stood up on end as if the sight of her witchy hair terrified
him.

Crap, still no coverage on either cell phone. She
could no longer blame the weather. Both phones’ batteries were too weak. They
ate the last of the energy bars and shared a bottle of water, careful to
preserve the other in case they had to wait a long time for rescue. Lobstermen
and others fishing should be out and about by dawn.

She donned her life vest—the bright yellow should make
them more visible—and joined Jake outside as he prepared to send up a flare.
The lifting fog revealed swatches of blue overhead and splashes of green on the
mainland. At low tide, the water spread out as smooth and shiny as new paint.

Her gaze went to Jake as if on a homing device, to the
tense set of his lean jaw, to the determined set of his wide shoulders. Last
night he’d been different, more contemplative and intense. Thanks to their
situation, stranded on an island and stalked by a murderer.

He was her match. He
got
her. They understood
each other, could talk about anything, and did. More than physical attraction,
they had a link. He was always present in her thoughts. Did he care for her?
Maybe, but their only
real
links were sex and their searches. Anything
more was in only in her mind. She’d always known the end would come, had
steeled herself. She was too much work, too outspoken, and too defensive. Men
always left. But the anticipated loss hurt like razorblades lacerating her
insides.

Her heart beat with slow, hard thumps as she watched
Jake extract a flare from the emergency kit. He cocked the flare gun and raised
it.

A faint rumble ghosted through the drifts of fog.

She grabbed his arm. “Wait. I hear an engine.”

He turned toward the sound, louder now and coming from
down the peninsula. “Some lobsterman heading out to haul traps. If he misses
seeing us, I’ll shoot off the flare.”

Through the fog shredding like torn sheets, she spied
the long, open Dragon Harbor launch, with the harbormaster standing at the
helm.

“It’s Pascal. He’s headed around the other side of the
island!” She sped across the rock-strewn terrain.

“I see him,” Jake replied. “He may be involved but we
have to get off this island. Take off your vest and wave it.”

She tore at the clasps. Jake’s steps clattered the
loose shingle as he jogged along the narrow beach, widened by low tide.

A sizzling flare arced into the blue. “Ahoy the boat!”

When the launch’s prow turned toward them, she
whooped, then joined Jake where he stood with their meager belongings. Soon the
familiar flat-nosed, weathered features of Ed Pascal came into focus.

“What’re you folks doin’ out here with no boat?” His
disapproving scowl seemed to lump them in with the partying teenagers he must’ve
sometimes rousted from the Mobcap.

“The
Amy Jo
sank last night,” Jake called. To
Lani he whispered, “I’ve got my sidearm. Watch him. Don’t mention the
explosion.”

When Pascal beached the flat-bottomed launch, she
accepted his callused hand and scrambled aboard. Metal seats ringed the
gunwales around a raised storage box in the deck’s center. She clambered to
starboard while Jake took a port seat, to balance the craft.

As their rescuer pulled away from their rustic haven
and picked up speed, the rushing air cut into her skin like sleet. She shivered
and rubbed her arms, bare beneath the cap sleeve of her T-shirt.

Pascal tossed them each a fleece blanket. “I got no
extra jackets.”

She and Jake thanked him in unison. The blanket’s soft
warmth went a long way toward cheering her.

Pascal tucked one hand in his windbreaker pocket and
turned toward them. “How’d you folks come to be over by the Mobcap?”

“Out for an evening cruise.” Jake’s tone remained
casual, although his face held a wary look. “Got lost in the weather. Must’ve
hit a rock.”

Pascal wagged his head in commiseration. His eyes
crinkled as he squinted beneath his billed cap with the town’s dragon logo. He
returned his attention to the waters ahead.

When she heard a crackling sound, she looked up to see
Pascal talking into his ship-to-shore radio. “What now?” he said before the
motor’s roar and the air rushing past her ears drowned out his next words. In a
moment, he set the unit back in its cradle.