Guns and Roses (54 page)

Your loving and adorable son,

Jeff

“Very thoughtful,” I say with a smile. “Especially the part where he points out I should do the driving—considering you’ve been giving him lessons on the sly.”

Jack ducks his head in mock shame. “You know about that, eh?”

I nod. “I overheard him boasting about it to his pal, Cheever.”

“Every kid in the sticks drives the family truck, or the tractor—”

“Lousy excuse, Jack. We live in Hilldale, which is suburbia, not Farmville.”

“Hey, you never know. It may come in handy some day. If it’s any consolation, he’s already a much better driver than Mary—”

I punch him in the arm. “Some role model you are! That’s all I need. Mary and her thirteen-year-old girlfriends rolling the car out of the driveway at night, in order to meet their boyfriends for a joyride—”

“Like you did, I’m guessing?”

That stops me cold. Yeah, okay. Maybe. Not that I’d ever admit it to her, let alone him.

Time to change the subject—and get that smirk off his face. I pick up the cookies. “Yum, what do we have here?”

The attached note says:

Dear Mom,

I made your favorites, chocolate peanut butter! Unfortunately, they’re a little burned on the bottom! Usually, I have you yelling at me to watch the timer, and this time I did it as a surprise while you were gone, so I’m sorry! Just don’t eat them all at once! I noticed that your thighs jiggle just a bit… but not much!

xoxoxo always,

Mary

Yep, that stops me mid-bite.

Jack is puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

“Um… nothing.”

Instead, I take the doll in hand. I recognize the haphazard block lettering in the note tied to her wrist as the handiwork of my five-year-old daughter, Trisha:

DEAR MOMMY, HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! I HOPE YOU AND DADDY MAKE LOTS OF SANDCASTLES AT THE BEACH. MY DOLL WILL HELP. SHE WILL ALSO KEEP YOU FROM MISSING ME. LOVE, TRISHA

I tear up. “This is the first Valentine’s Day I’ve been away from them.”

“Don’t forget, you left them with some pretty fancy going away presents. Those chocolate bars you made from scratch in the shape of their names were awesome.” Very gently, Jack swipes at the tear that is rolling down my cheek, but he can’t wipe away the heaviness I feel in my heart at the thought that maybe, just maybe, one day I may not come back to her.

If that were to happen, she too would get a note from me, telling her why:

Because I kill bad guys.

Specifically, the ones responsible for taking her father, Carl, away from me.

From us.

Jack knows how to change the subject. He hands me the ring box.

It is the moment of reckoning…

Wrong.

Yes, it is a very important piece of jewelry, but not, as I presumed, an engagement ring.

It is the antique locket necklace I had inherited from my mother.

“You always wear it at home, but you didn’t take it on this ops,” Jack says.

“Should something ever happen to me… well, let me put it this way, I would never want anything to happen to this locket, too. It was my mother’s. I know it will be important to the children one day.”

How can I explain to him that inside is the only picture of Carl left in existence?

The rest of them disappeared when he did: the night Trisha was born.

Should I fail at my lifelong mission—to defeat the Quorum—I’d want my children to know the truth about their real father. Between this locket and
the
handbook
I’ve left for them in my curio cabinet, they will finally know the truth.

I pray to God that day never comes.

Not that I can say any of this to Jack. Instead, I lift my hair off my neck. “But hey, it’s brought us look thus far. Will you do me the honor?”

After clasping it, he kisses me there.

The warm memory of his lips still lingers on the nape of my neck as he hands me the Magic 8-Ball. “Okay now it’s time for my gift. You get to shake it three times. Whatever pops up is something that will take place when all of this is behind us.”

Wishful thinking.

But seriously, will the Quorum ever go away?

I have to believe it will, someday. Maybe even tomorrow.

In any event, it’s a wonderful dream to share.

I give him the smile we both need right now. “Sounds like fun.” I shake it hard, six times. “Okay, here’s the first answer: ‘Without a doubt.’”

He laughs. “That fits a lot of questions.”

“You’re right. I’ve got one, but first promise not to laugh, okay?” I take a deep breath. “Jack, seriously, should we be worried that the Cavalry hasn’t shown up? Granted, we’ve got another seven hours of battery time in the iPad—”

“I know you’re still spooked by the shark, Donna, but admit it. We’ve both been through worse.”

He’s right. To let him know that I’ve shaken off my fears, I take the ball and twist it right, then left, before taking a peek. “Okay, now it says, ‘Don’t count on it.’”

His smile disappears. “Care to take another guess?”

I’m almost afraid to voice my fear. “I’m hoping the question is, ‘Will you ever leave me?’”

I don’t need to add,
… Like Carl did?

I have my answer in the way his eyes look deep into my own.

As if there is nothing in life more important to him.

Did Carl ever love me like this? Maybe once, a long time ago…

But Carl is gone.

And Jack is here to stay.

I know this because the Magic 8-Ball deems it so.

Smiling, I shake the ball one last time: “It says ‘Signs point to yes.’”

“Good. Because the question is, ‘will you marry me?’”

His mouth hovers over mine, longingly. Finally our lips meet in a gentle kiss.

If floating on a raft in the Pacific after seeing a man eaten by a shark teaches you anything, it’s that life is too short and too uncertain to waste on coy flirtations. Jack’s tongue knows the inside of my mouth as well as his own. It also knows the curve of my shoulder, where it lingers oh so longingly.

Very slowly, he unzips my wetsuit, releasing my breasts. His lips tickle me as they roam over them. As much as he enjoys their plump softness, his prime objective is my nipples, which the cool air (or is it his tongue?) has enlarged, making them
so, so stiff—

Just like Jack.

His wetsuit can’t hide the fact that his cock is now long and hard.

I am aching to have him inside me.

My fingers can’t unzip his wetsuit fast enough. He must feel the same way about mine because he strips it off me, too—first the left arm, then the right one—until it hangs low around my hips. With one yank he pulls it down around my ankles, but holds me steady so that I don’t stumble back onto the floor of the raft.

After that little project, my string bikini is a piece of cake. He unties one side, then the other. As it begins its fall, a breeze catches it and lifts it up and over the waves.

Jack isn’t watching because he’s too busy admiring the view between my legs. A long index finger and thick thumb are working in tandem at making me throb for him.

“Jack, I don’t think . . .” is all I can gasp.

I want to explain to him why I can’t say yes to his proposal.

Not yet, anyway.

As if my plea can stop him.

Jack enters me with a deep thrust. In no time at all we find our rhythm, along with that sweet spot deep within me. The combination of joy and ecstasy has me throwing back my head so that I am looking skyward—

Just in time to see a shooting star race across the galaxy.

By the time it disappears somewhere far beyond Orion, the moans from our passion-fueled orgasms have scared the fish away.

The helicopter hovering overhead is a different story.

The voice shouting down at us through the bullhorn is that of our boss, Ryan Clancy. “So tell me. Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

7:08 pm

“Genius! The guy was sheer genius!” Arnie’s shrieks are just as annoying as the helicopter’s thumping blades. “Did you know Hector owns a bank, too? In a country like this, I guess it’s the safest place to hide anything.”

“You mean the location and the floor plan for the Quorum’s villa is in some bank’s safety deposit box?” I yell back.

“Yep. Clever, right? In fact, Hector has a whole vault reserved for his company,
Ay
Chihuahua
Construction, at
Banco Regional de California Sur
.” Ryan keeps a steady gaze on the casas dotting the hills surrounding Cabo San Lucas. I guess he’s too embarrassed to look me in the eye.

Hell, he’s already seen too much of me.

“I presume the plan is to break in.” Jack shrugs. “Does that mean waiting until tomorrow?”

“Why? Were you hoping for an extended holiday?” Ryan’s smirk in my direction is the last thing I need. “Nope. It’s got to be tonight. We’ve intercepted some intel about some major event at the Quorum’s estate. It would be easier for both of you to get lost in a crowd. From what we can tell, this shindig is the Who’s Who we’ve been waiting for: not the foot soldiers, but the group’s key leaders. And best yet, the money men. Everyone there is a suspect, so you’ll both be wearing digital camera lenses in order to take lots of pictures.”

“These guys like to hang together on the biggest date night of the year?” I shake my head in disbelief. “Kinky.”

“Don’t fool yourself. You know as well as I do that these guys are all about the mission.” Finally, Ryan looks me in the eye. “But they’re not above mixing business with pleasure. Every socialite and celebrity in town for the holiday has been sent an invitation.” He shrugs. “You’ll have an excuse to get out of that wetsuit—again.”

I feel my face turning red, but I give Ryan a mock salute anyway.

“First things first. We’re on our way to make a little bank withdrawal.” He continues, “Donna, you’ll divert the two guards and then hit them with Roofie pricks, so they’ll doze off for an hour or so. As a safeguard, Arnie will set up a loop on the bank’s security cameras. Jack, when Donna gives you the high sign, you’ll break into the vault and pull the drawer with the villa’s floor plans.”

Jack nods. “So you think this op should take a half-hour, tops.”

“That’s the plan. Let’s hustle. We’ve got a party to crash.”

8:21 pm

The chain-smoking security guard on his break thinks it’s his lucky night when he comes to the rescue of a
chica
bonita
with a tight, short skirt and no matches to light her own cigarette.

As he cups his hand around his lighter’s flame, my thank-you is a jab to his neck with a tiny needle injected with Rohypnol.

His eyes cross as he stumbles into my arms. Cradling him, I tap loudly the glass door to get the attention of the second guard and shout at the top of my lungs,
“Oye, tú!
El señor guardia! Tu amigo necesita ayuda! Él pudo haber tenido un ataque al corazón!”

He’s out of his chair in a flash. My assessment—that his partner had a heart attack—has him in a panic. When he leans beside me to help me unbutton the fallen guard’s shirt, he also gets pricked with a Roofie injection.

“We’re in,” I murmur just loud enough to be picked up by the ops team’s audio receivers.

A moment later, Jack, dressed as a security guard, turns the corner. He grabs one of the sleeping beauties and I lug the other over to the security desk.

Jack nods at me. “When they wake up, you’ll be just a fond memory.”

“Go down that corridor on the right,” Arnie’s voice mutters in our ear. “The vault is the third one on the left. You’re looking for Box Number 1761, by the way.”

When we get to the designated vault, we scan its lock with a digital sensor reader, and in a jiffy the entry code reveals itself. Before opening the vault, we pull on our infrared goggles. The security sensors look like a red spider’s web that stretches from one side of the room to another.

After assessing the situation, Jack gives a long, low whistle. “Arnie, I’ll scan the room top to bottom, starting on the left. Donna will do the same, from the right. Holler if you see the box.”

Starting at the right side of the room, I follow Jack’s lead, glancing from top to bottom of each row. Finally, Arnie says, “Jack, stop! Fourth row on the left, about three boxes from the top. Which one of you is best at Limbo? It’s going to take a contortionist to get over there, let alone to pull it out of the wall without setting off the alarm.”