Accidental Bodyguard (15 page)

“This place is perfect, completely isolated. No way anyone could trace us.”

He shrugged.

She took another swallow of coffee and asked, “When was the last time you were home?”

“Three years. I'm thankful the forest hasn't overgrown the yard as much as I feared.”

“Do you ever hike in those woods?”

“All the time. Or I used to.”

“Any wild animals?”

“Deer, 'coons, squirrels.” He looked at the feeders and smiled. “Of course birds. The occasional bobcat.”

“Bobcat? You mean Florida panther?”

“No, a much smaller wildcat, not much bigger than a house cat.”

“But no bears?”

He shot her a glance. “Are you worried about bears?”

“Should I be?”

“There are black bears in the area, but I've never seen them on my property. Mostly over in the Forest.”

She must have looked puzzled, because he said, “The Ocala National Forest, which isn't far from here. The Florida Trail runs through there, and a branch off one of my trails hooks up eventually with the Florida Trail.”

She knew of the Florida Trail, a public path that led north from Big Cypress in the Everglades all the way to Pensacola. In another life, before she'd met Carlos, she'd loved to hike and had once planned to complete at least part of the Florida Trail. Carlos had convinced her the idea was nutso because of the possibility of a bear attack. He'd shown her gruesome photos of hikers mauled by bears, all part of his psychological warfare against her.

“So bears
could
get here?” she asked.

Jack shook his head. “There's too much development between here and there, areas without cover. Could happen, but I doubt it. Their numbers are small, and they have plenty of food and shelter where they are. No reason to leave. It's a different story down by Orlando.”

“Good.”

“Do you want to take a hike?”

She bit her lip. “Maybe. Something about those trees—I don't know—draws me in. It's hard to resist.”

He stared at her. “I know the feeling.”

She held his gaze and he gave her a lopsided grin. So they had something in common besides raw animal lust. She looked away when she realized the direction of her thoughts.
Stop it, Claudia. This is how you get yourself into trouble.

“Is your mom still asleep?”

He snorted. “She's never been an early riser.”

Claudia nodded. She wanted to ask Jack about his history with Irene, but decided to wait, suspecting Irene was likely to reveal her side of the story without much prompting. Then she could clarify the events with Jack and get a more complete picture.

She'd once heard an old wives' tale that if you wanted to know how your future husband would treat you, just observe how he treats his mother. Not that Jack was her future husband. And of course she never even met Carlos's mother.

“Have you decided what to do about her?”

His face tightened, but he didn't reply, which was her answer.

“Do you believe she has no place to go?”

“Sounds like her normal pattern.”

“And if you kick her out, she's likely to tell all of Dunnellon we're here?”

“I've never been able to stop her from doing what she wants.”

“I have an idea,” Claudia said.

“What?”

She pointed to the Airstream next to the shed. “Is that trailer functional?”

“It was three years ago. That's my mobile hunting lodge.”

“Why not let her move in there?”

He narrowed his eyes, considering.

“She'd be out of your hair most of the time, but you could still keep an eye on her.”

“I don't want to keep an eye on her.”

“Do you want her on the sofa every night?”

Jack turned to face her. “I want her as far away from here as possible.”

She met his gaze again. “You're that mad at her?”

“I am, yes, but that's not the reason.” He glanced back toward the house and lowered his voice. “Remember who we're hiding from, Claudia. If your ex's thugs do show up here, everyone near you will be in danger. I won't be able to protect you both.”

* * *

J
ACK
IGNORED
A
twinge of guilt at the stricken look on Claudia's face. He'd just thrown her situation in her face, but it couldn't be helped. She'd relaxed in this bucolic setting, maybe too much, and she needed to stay on her guard. She seemed more worried about the unlikely possibility of a wild animal attack than the Warriors.

If it came right down to it, who would he save? His mother or Claudia?

That was a choice he didn't want to make. Another reason why Irene should go.

But Claudia's idea was a good one. He'd load his mom in the Airstream, hitch up the old trailer to his vehicle and drive her over to the state park where he'd pay for a hookup for three weeks. Too bad she'd hate the idea of living in a trailer.

He'd decide what to do with her after that when the time came. Right now he needed to focus on keeping Claudia alive to testify.

The real question was whether his mother would keep her mouth shut about him being home. He needed to somehow impress on her the importance of her silence. Yeah, and when had he ever been able to do that?

“One good thing about my mother being here is we have groceries,” Jack said. “Are you ready for some breakfast?”

“At least another cup of coffee,” Claudia said.

Inside the cabin, his mother had managed to procure her own coffee and return to the sofa to nurse it. She'd positioned herself in front of the window so she could see out front with her dog at her feet.

“Morning,” she called out as they entered.

Jack noted she'd combed her hair and draped herself in an elegant satiny robe. She'd even put on lipstick, which surprised him. She'd never been much of a morning person.

“Good morning, Irene,” Claudia said. “How was the couch?”

“Not too bad. Now that you're here, Jack, I hope you're going to arrange for some sort of television reception. I sure miss my
Good Morning America
.”

“Not going to happen,” Jack said.

“And why not?”

“We don't want anyone to know we're here,” Claudia said, stepping toward the couch. “Remember?”

“Oh, poo. They'll think it's just for me.”

Jack poured himself and Claudia another cup of coffee and moved into the living room. “There's a television in the Airstream.”

“But is there service?”

Before Jack could answer, his attention was caught by the unmistakable sound of tires crunching the gravel on his road. The dog heard it, too, because she placed her paws on the back of the couch, looked out the window and emitted a low growl.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“W
HAT
THE
HELL
?”

Jack handed Claudia her mug and moved closer to the window to get a better look. Because of the rise of his land, he couldn't see whatever vehicle approached, but dust billowed into the air signaling something was definitely coming.

No one ever came out here.

He shot his mother a glance. She'd placed her coffee on the windowsill and leaned forward. Peering down the driveway, one hand smoothed her hair, one hand clutched her robe.

“You expecting company?” Jack demanded.

“Maybe,” she said.

“Who?” he demanded.

“Chuck sometimes comes out in the mornings on the way in to work.”

“I thought you two broke up.”

“I never said that. We just have to be more discreet now because of Janie Sue.”

Jack stared at his mother for a long moment, trying to wrap his head around this new development. Even for his mother, this was unbelievable. So Chuck had evicted his mom, fired her and now used this cabin to continue screwing her.

A black F-250 pickup truck crested the hill, and its hood emerged from the swirling dust.

Claudia moved beside Jack. “Chuck is the sheriff, right? Your old boss?”

“Right,” Jack said.

“Do you trust him?” Claudia asked.

“I used to,” Jack said.

The truck braked to a stop in the driveway.

Jack considered his options. What a mess his mother had made of his plan to protect Claudia.

“Should I hide in the bedroom?” Claudia asked.

“Yeah, why don't you do that,” Jack said as a tall, powerful figure jumped down from the huge pickup. “I don't want him to know you're here.”

“Got it.
Please
don't tell him,” Claudia said to Irene, and scurried down the hallway.

Chuck removed his hat, tossed it in the front seat and slammed the truck door. As he had for over twenty years, he wore the tan uniform of the Marion County Sheriff's Department, complete with personalized Glock and handcuffs on his hip. His pant creases still came to a point crisp enough to cause damage to careless small children. Maybe he'd packed on a pound or two in his belly and his graying hair had thinned a bit, but he still looked damn good for a man bucking sixty.

To think he'd once considered Chuck Wheeler a mentor.

Jack jerked open the front door and pointed at his mother. “You wait here.”

Chuck halted in his quick steps when he spotted Jack. Surprise flickered over his face, quickly replaced by what Jack could swear was pleasure.

“Well, as I live and breathe,” Chuck said, holding out his arm. “Jackson Richards.”

Jack clasped his hand and squeezed hard. “Morning, Chuck. Can I help you with something?”

Wheeler darted a look toward the house. Jack almost laughed. The sheriff had just realized he wasn't going to get his morning nooky.

“When did you get here, son?”

“Last night,” Jack said.

“You here to stay?”

Jack shrugged as if he wasn't sure. “Just a short visit to check up on things.”

“Well, I'm sure your momma is glad about that.”

“Oh, she's overjoyed.”

Chuck narrowed his eyes. “I hope you're treating your mother with the respect she deserves.”

“About as much respect as you do,” Jack said.

The sheriff's mouth tightened, as if he'd tasted something bitter. “Come on now, Jack. You know how I feel about your momma.”

“Yeah, I get it, Chuck. I guess that's why you fired her and left her homeless.”

“Hey. I don't know what Irene told you, but I did not have a choice.”

“We all have choices, Sheriff. Always.”

“There's no need for this kind of talk, son.”

“I'm not your son.”

Chuck stood up straighter, as if Jack had just landed a punch. Good, Jack thought. He won't come back.
At least not while I'm here.

“Now, is there anything else I can do for you?” Jack asked, folding his arms. “Or have we about covered it?”

The sheriff gave him a long, assessing look and said, “I guess we're done. Tell your momma I stopped by.”

“Yeah, I'll do that,” Jack said.

Wheeler stomped back to his fancy truck, did a one-eighty and drove away, leaving clouds of dust in his wake. Jack stared after him for a long moment, hoping the unpleasant scene would keep Chuck away from his mother. If they didn't see each other, there was a better chance his mother wouldn't reveal Claudia's presence.

But if he knew those two lovebirds—and did he ever—their separation wouldn't last. His mother would never stop praying for the day Chuck left his wife, although that would never happen. Why couldn't she see that? Damn, but she was the oldest cliché in the book. He remembered when he'd first learned of their affair, the crude jokes of his fellow deputies, his mother's lack of remorse in the face of his humiliation.

The fact that she'd continue their tryst in his home after all that had happened three years ago—Jack turned back to the house. No sense in rehashing old news. His mother would never change, but he couldn't help but wonder just exactly who had tipped off Janie Sue.

He wouldn't put it past Irene to tell Janie Sue herself to force Chuck to make a decision. If so, that brilliant ploy backfired and somehow, once again, he suffered the consequences.

Inside the house, Irene remained on the sofa with a hard look on her face. She glared at him with furious eyes. She'd heard his conversation with Chuck.

“Thanks a whole hell of a lot, Jack.”

Jack executed a crisp salute. “You're welcome.”

He continued down the hall to the bedroom and knocked. “You can come out now,” he told Claudia.

She opened the door holding a spiral-bound notebook against her chest. She'd made the bed, and her Glock lay on the comforter. One thing about Claudia, she liked to be prepared.

“Is he gone?” she asked.

“Yeah. Come on. Let's have some breakfast.”

“I'll be right there.”

* * *

C
LAUDIA
STUFFED
HER
journal back inside her duffel bag, hiding it beneath clothing, and followed Jack. The sheriff's unexpected arrival had catapulted her back into terror, and she'd decided to calm herself by entering the latest events into her journal. But Jack had sent the man away so fast, she had barely written a word.

“How did you get rid of him so quick?” she asked when they'd entered the living room.

“By insulting him,” Irene stated, coming to her feet.

“They're not insults if they're the truth,” Jack said.

“Why did you do that, Jack?” Irene demanded.

“Because I wanted him to leave.”

“Now he won't come back.”

“That was the idea.”

“You had no right,” Irene said, placing her hands on her hips. “This is
my
life.”

“And this is my house.”

Claudia watched mother and son hurl angry, hurtful words at each other with a growing sense of unease. This was not how family treated each other—at least not her family, so to her this behavior was beyond weird. She couldn't fathom any of her siblings fighting with her parents in such a manner. She wanted to put her hands into a T again and call time-out.

Pookie didn't like the conflict much, either, as she began to issue little hiccup-like barks.

Irene snatched her dog from the sofa and shushed her. The dog licked her master's face.

“You know how much I love Chuck,” Irene said.

“But he's married, Mother.”

The two glared at each other until Irene grabbed her purse and marched toward the back door still holding Pookie in her arms. “Excuse me,” she said with dignity. “I need a cigarette.”

Jack stepped out of her way.

“Welcome to my world,” Irene told Claudia when she moved past.

Claudia didn't reply, but was surprised to note a glimmer of tears in Irene's eyes.

“Damn her,” Jack muttered. He grabbed a jacket from a hook by the front door and slammed out, leaving Claudia alone in the house.

Well. Claudia took a deep breath. A morning that had started out so peacefully had certainly turned poisonous. Villa Alma might have been boring, but at least it was calm. Most of the time.

Shouldering on the jacket, Jack disappeared down a path that led into the forest. So much for her breakfast. Was he checking the perimeter or escaping from his mother? She wondered how long he'd be gone.

Claudia slid open the back door. Irene sat in the plastic Adirondack chair drawing so hard on a cigarette it appeared as if she was mad at the tobacco. She turned her head away to blow out smoke, and gave a half smile.

“Sorry about all that.” Irene plunged the cigarette into an ashtray and ground it out. Claudia couldn't help but think Irene was using the butt as a substitute for Jack's head.

“Come on,” Irene said. “Let's go to the shed and get you a place to rest your bones.”

Irene slid open the cabin's door, reached inside and returned with a key ring. Claudia followed Irene to a wooden storage shed that looked handmade, probably by Jack. She inserted the key in a padlock and turned, then opened the shed door to reveal a variety of objects Claudia assumed Jack had stashed in here when he left three years ago, including garden tools, a riding lawn mower and three stacked plastic chairs that matched the one on the deck.

She and Irene each took the arm of one and marched back up the small rise to the deck. Irene didn't speak on the way, probably because she was having too much trouble breathing. Claudia knew it was none of her business, but the nurse in her couldn't help but think Jack's mom needed to quit smoking before it was too late. Maybe it already was.

When they dropped the chair, Claudia said, “Thanks. We should get one for Jack, too, while we're at it.”

Irene hesitated so long Claudia thought she would refuse, but finally said, “I suppose.”

When they'd returned with a second chair, Irene lit another cigarette and collapsed in her seat. Claudia went back inside to warm her coffee. Returning outside, she took a seat upwind of Irene's smoke and another long look at the surrounding forest.

“This is beautiful,” Claudia said to break the awkward silence. “I've lived my whole life in Miami, and we don't have trees like this anymore. Or not very many of them, anyway.”

“So you're a Miami gal?” Irene asked.

Claudia held up her mug. “Born and raised.”

“I was born in Ocala.”

“Was Jack born here, too?”

After a drag on her smoke, Irene nodded. “I know I'm not supposed to ask any questions about what you're doing here, but is it just work or are you and my son, you know, involved?”

Heat rushed into Claudia's face as she remembered just how involved they'd almost become two nights ago. Was she really having this conversation with Jack's mother?

Irene laughed softly. “Honey, I haven't seen a blush like that in years. You don't have to say a thing.”

“It's complicated,” Claudia said.

“Ain't it always,” Irene muttered.

“Amen, sister.” Claudia and Irene clinked mugs, and Claudia decided to let Irene think what she wanted about her relationship with Jack.

“What about you and Sheriff Wheeler?”

“Chuck loves me.”

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure, and he's everything to me. I love that man too much.”

Claudia nodded. That much she'd figured out. “But I'm not sure I could forgive a man who fired me and threw me out of my home.”

“Yeah, you'd think not,” Irene agreed. “But he didn't have a choice. His wife threatened to make political trouble.”

“What kind of political trouble?”

“Being sheriff is an elected position, and it's real important to Chuck.”

Claudia nodded, but didn't verbalize the thoughts swirling in her head. He might love Jack's mom, but the sheriff's career was more important than the woman he professed to love. Just like Carlos's hate was more important than his supposed love for her.

“I know what you're thinking,” Irene said. “You're worried about his wife.”

Claudia remained silent. That wasn't what she was thinking at all, but Irene didn't know how similar their situations were. In a bizarre convoluted way, they'd both been betrayed by men they loved. Or thought they loved.

“Well, don't you worry your pretty head about Janie Sue,” Irene continued. “The woman is a coldhearted bitch who only wants to play tennis. She does not care one thing about her husband's happiness.”

Claudia took a deep breath. She ought to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn't. She had to say it.

“Isn't that what married men always tell their mistresses?”

“So you figure he's just stringing me along?” Irene asked, seeming not to take offense. “But why? And at my age? Look at me. I sure don't look anything like you anymore, honey, and Chuck is one fine-looking man.”

“You deserve better,” Claudia stated. “Are you happy to let things stay as they are?”

“Not happy, no.” Irene ground out her cigarette. “But he'll retire in a few years and then we can be together. I've just got to figure out how I'm going to live until then. Jack coming home kinda ruined my plan.”

Claudia buried her face in her coffee mug. She hoped she never became so dependent on a man that she'd just tread water waiting for him to do something. Her philosophy—partly learned from her ex—was to depend on no one but yourself. Never trust anyone else to steer your life.

Yeah, and look at the pitiful mess you've got yourself into, Ms. Claudia. Hardly Ms. Independent.

“So why are you and Jack so mad at each other?” Claudia asked. Time to unearth what she really wanted to learn. “It has to be more than you dating his married boss.”