Against the Tide (22 page)

Rafe left Olivia's apartment and headed back to his house. He needed to talk to his brother. He had made a promise tonight and he was a man who kept his word. He had told Olivia he would take her just as she was and he meant it.

He had already considered the consequences of digging into her past, asked himself how he would feel if he discovered secrets from a time in her life when she had been a different person than she was today.

What if she'd been a drug addict? A thief or a prostitute? How would he feel? But whatever dark secrets lay in her past, Olivia wasn't that person anymore. She was Olivia Chandler, owner of the Pelican Café, a woman whose face had filled with yearning when she'd held that baby girl.

He knew she was desperately afraid. No way could he miss the fear in those big gray eyes. If trouble followed her here, he had to be ready, and the only way he could do that was to find out the truth.

He remembered the way she had cried in his arms. He knew her now, knew crying was a weakness she rarely allowed. She had let down her guard with him. She had let him in and he would not fail her.

Rafe drove his pickup into the garage, parked next to the Expedition, and went inside the house. He had a business to run, schedules to prepare, trips to arrange, ledgers to go over. Later he needed to pick up Zach and go over to the Seaside Motel, retrieve the GPS from the bumper of the Jeep.

He had plenty to do, but first, he had to call Nick. Unless he was working a case, his brother would be home by now.

The phone rang. “Hey, bro,” Nick said, a smile in his voice as he answered. Married life obviously agreed with him.

“I've got her name,” Rafe told him, skipping the preliminaries. “Fiona Caldwell. She all but admitted it.”

The humor went out of Nick's voice. “What else did you find out?”

“She's in trouble. She didn't say it, but there isn't any doubt. You'll get a FedEx in the morning. DNA and a glossy page out of a magazine. She was a dancer, posed for makeup ads. The page you'll get came out of the October issue of
Cosmopolitan
three years ago. I'm pretty sure you'll find her this time.”

“Sounds like. You okay?”

“Got something else for you,” Rafe said, avoiding the question since he didn't feel okay at all. “This has to do with Scott Ferris's murder.”

“Hey, who needs clients when I've got you to fill up my workday?”

“Very funny. Two guys, Lee Wong and Michael Nevin, were staying in the motel room closest to the crime scene the night of the murder. They're playing see no evil, hear no evil, but it's beginning to look like they heard or saw something. Wong's Asian American, midtwenties. Nevin's about the same age, appears to be Middle Eastern. They're both Islamic. I want to know their story, if they have one.”

“Interesting. You're thinking they may have a reason for not wanting to get involved.”

“Could be. If they do, I want to know what it is.”

“That's not much info, but I'll do my best.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

“What about your lady? Fiona, is it now? You're not falling for her, are you, bro? Because it's sure beginning to sound like it.”

“Whoever she was before, she's Olivia now and she needs help. I'm trying to help her, Nick.”

“I hope to hell that's all it is. I'll call you back as soon as I can.” Nick rang off and Rafe headed into his office.

He had work to do until the sun went down, then he was heading over to pick up Zach. As he sat down in front of his computer, he did his best not to think of Olivia and what his brother might find out.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Olivia paced in front of the window of her apartment. It was black as pitch outside, dark enough for Rafe to go back to the motel and retrieve the tracking device he had put on the Jeep last night.

He wouldn't be back for at least an hour, maybe more. Now was the time for her to leave.

Her stomach churned. She couldn't believe she had all but admitted she was Fiona Caldwell. If Rafe looked for her now, he would find out who she was. If he found out the truth, he could destroy her. Destroy them both. She needed to pack a bag, sign ownership of the restaurant over to Nell, get into her Subaru, drive out of Valdez and never look back.

Her throat ached as she stared into the darkness. Fiona Caldwell, the name she was born with, the maiden name she had returned to after her divorce. Fiona was the bail-jumping defendant in a homicide, a woman formally charged with the murder of her ex-husband, Stephen Rothman.

The only reason the crime hadn't become national news was her claim that his mistress, a congresswoman and prominent political powerhouse, had actually been the woman who had shot him.

In three short days, the media had moved on to other news, falling under the spell of a political machine that manipulated them as if they were children. The media had backed away, never even mentioned the woman's name, not wanting to smear one of their favorites.

Instead, they had convicted Fiona even before the charges had been filed. She'd had no other choice but to run.

She needed to run now.

She thought of Rafe and how close she had come to telling him everything, baring her soul and begging him to help her. She still couldn't believe she had broken down that way in front of him. That she had cried so hard she had soaked the front of his shirt, cried as she hadn't allowed herself to do in years.

Maybe, in some small way, the release had helped clear her head. She was back in control and able to think. Valdez wasn't New York and Rafe wasn't an assistant district attorney, a man running for election, someone willing to throw an innocent woman to the wolves to achieve his goal.

She glanced at the doorway. Rafe was gone. After what had happened, she had no idea whether he would come back tonight. Or ever. There was a better-than-average chance he would use the time away from her to dig for more information, dig until he found out she was wanted for murder.

But Olivia was tired of running. She had made something good here. She wasn't ready to give up her home, her business, and the life she was building. On top of that, now there was Rafe. She'd told herself it wasn't possible to be in love with him, that it had happened too quickly, that she barely knew him.

But she knew everything about Rafe Brodie. In a town this size, there were very few secrets. She knew the kind of man he was, knew he was intelligent and loyal, respected and admired. Since they had started seeing each other, she knew he was a man of deep conviction, a man of his word.

A man worth loving.

She thought maybe she had fallen a little in love with him the first time he had stepped through the door of the café. Maybe right then, she had recognized the fierce pull of attraction as the danger it was.

Outside the window, quiet hovered over the landscape, and Olivia felt a calm stillness settle inside her. She was staying, fighting for what she wanted. What she deserved.

She steeled herself. The life she had made for herself was worth fighting for.

Rafe was worth fighting for.

Ignoring the weight pressing down on her chest and the panic at the edge of her mind, Liv walked into the bedroom and started to undress. Rafe would be finished at the motel by now. He would come back or he wouldn't. The police would arrive at her door, or they wouldn't. By morning, she would have a better idea where she stood.

Wishing it was the faded T-shirt she wore at Rafe's, Olivia pulled on an old sleep-tee, and crawled into bed.

It didn't really matter that she wouldn't be able to sleep.

 

 

It was a few minutes after midnight when Lee Heng slid behind the wheel of the Jeep. Mikal Nadir climbed into the passenger seat beside him. The meeting at Trent Doyle's rented house in the mountains was set for twelve thirty. It wouldn't do for them to be late, but Lee didn't want to be early, either. He didn't want to spend any more time with Doyle and his Russian mistress than he had to.

He wasn't a fan of the New York entrepreneur, but Doyle had supplied the money for their mission. He'd put together a very viable plan and made all the arrangements, which had been extremely expensive.

Lee had no illusion that Doyle's motive was anything other than money. Lee had done a little digging, discovered the man who lived like a king was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy—or worse. For running the same kind of operation, Bernie Madoff was rotting in prison.

Lee wasn't sure how the disaster would pay off for Doyle, but he knew the profits would be big or the man wouldn't be involved. Trent Doyle wasn't working for a higher purpose, a cause he'd committed his life to, not like Lee and Nadir.

Lee's Indonesian parents had immigrated to Columbus, Ohio, and raised him in their Islamic faith. He couldn't help being Westernized, since he'd gone to high school in Columbus and attended Ohio State University—go Buckeyes! But after he'd graduated, his worldviews had begun to change.

In time, he'd become a full-fledged member of JAT, the Jemaah Anshorut Tauhid, Indonesia's number-one terrorist group. Through their teachings, he saw the injustices committed by the West against Muslims, and a fire had begun to burn in his heart. Today that fire burned even hotter. Lee was determined to do something that would bring about change.

He glanced at the man beside him. Mikal Nadir was Iraqi, brought to the United States by presidential edict along with thousands of other Iraqi Muslims. Only a handful were militant, but even a few could affect the course of history, as had happened with the terrorists on September eleventh.

The third man in the group, Darius Cain, was a convert to Islam brought into the faith by the death of his brother, who had converted in prison. But since Cain didn't pray to Allah, drank alcohol, and took up with lewd women, he was as far from a true believer as anyone Lee had ever met.

Aside from the crucial job he fulfilled, Lee had no use for him. How Trent Doyle had found the three men and brought them together, Lee had no idea. It didn't matter as long as the mission went off as planned.

He pulled up the driveway, turned off the engine, and both men got out of the Jeep. Doyle and his Russian woman waited in the entry. This time, Lee and Nadir were invited into the den.

Cain was already there, sipping from a glass filled with liquor from the bottle of Jack Daniel's sitting on the bar. Lee worked to keep his lip from curling into a sneer. He had no respect for Cain, no matter what religion he professed. He wondered if the man would survive the mission, or if Allah would see fit to martyr him. Or perhaps dole out some other form of punishment for his nonbeliever ways.

Whatever happened, Lee didn't care.

“Would you like something to drink?” Doyle asked. “There's coffee in the kitchen.”

“No, thank you,” Lee said.

“I do not care for anything,” said Nadir.

They sat down on furniture arranged around a maple coffee table; a simple beige sofa and chairs matched the carpet.

“I called you here to go over final preparations for the mission. Before that happens, do any of you have anything to report?”

Lee glanced at Cain and wondered if the man had been in town again. He was supposed to be at the pipeline terminal or in his trailer in the RV park, but Cain was never good at following orders.

“What about the woman?” Doyle asked when no one replied. “Is she still asking questions?”

“She hasn't been back,” Lee said. “But if she shows up, we have the information we need to keep her quiet.” He was in his element here. His American upbringing had won him a scholarship in the computer field. Combined with his years at Microsoft, he was a hacker extraordinaire.

“Would you like to share?” Doyle asked.

“Her name is Fiona Caldwell. She's wanted for the murder of her ex-husband.”

Surprise flickered in Doyle's blue eyes. Then a slow smile slid over his too slick features. “Is that so? A shame we didn't find out sooner. She might have proven quite useful.”

“Like I said, she hasn't been back to the motel and the cops are still holding Reed. We should be finished and out of here before the Ferris murder has a chance to become a real problem.”

Cain pushed away from the bar, his big, hard frame an imposing presence in the room. “Why don't I just take care of her? Make sure she keeps quiet for good?”

An instant of disgust appeared in Doyle's face; then it was gone. He drilled Cain with a glare. “Stay away from the woman. We don't need more trouble. A few more days, this is over, and all of us get what we want.”

He turned to include the rest of them. “Now, let's get on to more important matters, shall we? Starting with news. The ship,
San Pascual
, out of San Diego, is due to arrive on schedule. That puts us within days of completing our mission.

Lee gave an inward sigh of relief. They wouldn't have to wait much longer.

“Within twenty-four hours after the ship's arrival, one-point-five million barrels of oil will have been loaded into the
San Pascual
's double hull—enough to cause a spill five times as bad as the
Exxon Valdez
.”

Lee thought of the havoc it would cause and excitement trembled through him. JAT wanted to make a statement. News of the terror attack on the pipeline would make waves around the world the size of a tsunami.

“Our man is aboard the ship and so are the explosives. Cain should have the rest of the explosives in position on shore by then.” He looked over at the big, light-skinned black man. “You
will
be ready on time?”

“I'll be ready.”

Doyle nodded. “A few hours after the bombs are detonated, the ship, along with the terminal, a portion of the pipeline, and as many of the storage tanks as possible, will be destroyed. You gentlemen can take credit for the attack in whatever form you wish.”

Lee's excitement grew to a fierce joy pumping through his veins. His goal was in sight. His position in JAT would be elevated to glorious new heights. He shared a glance with Nadir. Nadir had his own dreams of justice and glory. Aside from their faith, they had little in common. But this . . . this was a vision that united them as nothing else could.

“Any questions so far?” Doyle asked.

No one spoke. Lee's excitement made it hard to breathe.

“Time is getting short,” Doyle said. “We'll meet again tomorrow night to go over final preparations.”

The meeting broke up and the men left the house. Neither Lee nor Nadir spoke on the way back down the hill. But the joy Lee felt continued to warm him. His greatest accomplishment loomed just two days away.

 

 

Rafe awakened in bed with Olivia, who slept curled against him. Sweet Christ, he liked the feel of her there, liked that she had been waiting for him when he had come back from the motel last night.

He hadn't been sure he'd return to her apartment, not after the conversation they'd had, not until he heard what Nick had to say. In the end, he remembered the way she had cried in his arms and he couldn't stay away.

They hadn't spoken again of her past or her tears. Until something happened, they were moving forward, just as he'd promised.

Though he'd been tired after his hectic day, he and Liv had spent a few minutes checking the GPS he had taken off the Jeep. The device revealed the car's movements the night before and during the day as it zipped along the roads in town, stopping here and there with what appeared to be no rhyme or reason. At least nothing he could figure out. Maybe they'd have more luck with the device they retrieved tonight.

He glanced at the clock on her nightstand. He had a charter this morning, a full day with a full boat. He needed to get moving. Careful not to wake her, he kissed the top of Olivia's head and eased out from beneath the covers. Grabbing his clothes, he pulled them on and started for home to shower and change.

“Rafe . . . ?”

He turned to look at her, saw her pretty gray eyes open and watching him.

“I'm glad you came back last night.”

He nodded. Why he'd returned was hard to explain and he wasn't completely sure himself. “I've got to go. Long day ahead. Any chance you could pick up that FedEx I'm expecting? It should arrive at the airport by ten.”

“Your spy-version GPS? Sure, I'll pick it up.”

“Thanks. I'll see you later.”

She smiled. “What, no good-bye kiss?”

His mouth edged up. “If I go over there, I'll want more than a kiss, and I can't afford to be late. I'll see you when I get back.”

She gave him a sexy little smile and he grinned. Actually grinned.
Damn.
With everything going on, what the hell did he have to be happy about? But when he was with Olivia, he just felt good.

He left her in bed, wishing he could go back and join her, make love to her before he headed downstairs to his pickup, but there wasn't time for that. By the time he showered and changed and drove down to the harbor, Jaimie was working on deck and Zach was checking the equipment in the cabin.

The smell of fresh-brewed coffee reached him as he stepped inside. Jaimie would have sandwiches in the fridge for lunch. A box of donuts sat open on the galley table.