Never Surrender (Task Force Eagle) (9 page)

Lumpy dropped like a lightning-struck tree. He didn’t
move.

She stood dazed. Her breath came in great gulps. The
busted binoculars slipped from her shaking hands to the ground.

Rick glared at her, eyes blazing black fire. “What the
hell are you doing here? I told you—” He dragged in a breath and shook his
head. Pistol in hand, he hoisted Mustache up and then marched him over to lie
with his cohorts. He grabbed the other guns and checked them before tucking
them in his waistband.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded and gaped at him. Blood and dirt daubed his
left cheek. A gouge disfigured his jaw and blood smeared his lower lip. His
sleeve was torn. “You’re hurt.”

“Just a few scrapes.”

She clenched her jaw and banished the dizziness,
willing her pulse to calm. They weren’t out of this yet. “Those two accosted me
in Portland.”

Lumpy moaned and clutched his head. The other man opened
his eyes. The wound was on his shoulder, but the blood had flowed downhill
toward his head.

“They have a lot more than that to answer for.” His
brows furrowed. “And I have nothing to tie their hands with.”

She was usually prepared for any emergency, but her
experience had until recently consisted of computer glitches or car trouble or
Jordan’s rent. Having three thugs bleeding at her feet didn’t fall into neat
columns on a spreadsheet. Maybe she had something.

She retrieved her backpack from behind the bushes and
dove into it. “Here, you can bind their hands with this.” She held out a roll
of duct tape.

“Pink tape?” He hooted. “I’ll never again tease you
about that pack.”

She helped him tear off lengths of the tape and wrap
them around their captives’ wrists and ankles. With their attackers safely
trussed, he slid his pistol into the holster.

“None of them is Olívas?” Juliana handed him his
jacket.

He shook his head. “But it’s a good catch. I came up
behind them with my weapon drawn but one of them fired.” He pointed to the
first wounded man. “When this one went down, Gomez dropped his gun. Then I
slipped on ice and he jumped me. That’s when you came to my rescue.”

He wrapped her in his arms. “
Mi brava.
My
heroine. I should yell at you for not staying put. You could have been hurt.”

“I heard the fight. You could have been killed.” She
clutched him. Oh God, he meant more to her than a means to an end. How much
more she wasn’t ready to examine.

Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him, her lips gentle on
his injured lip. For an eternity of seconds, the cold, dangerous world
disappeared. He smelled of the forest floor and sunshine and sweat, and the
taste of his blood reminded her again of his human vulnerability. A hot stab of
desire sliced through her, and she knew she was in trouble.

“The tape and the binocs were ingenious,” he said, “but
now we have to march these guys down the mountain. I need back-up to bring them
in. Since I left the cell phone in the Silverado, you get your chance to race
ahead.”

“To call the police.” She extricated herself from his
embrace.

Rick handed her the keys to the truck. He arched a
brow at their rapt audience. “Hurry. I don’t want these sons of bitches getting
too comfortable lying around on this soft mountain.”

The question that had been bouncing around in her
brain since he’d first detected the intruders’ presence wouldn’t contain itself
any longer. “Rick, how did they find us? Did they know about the cottage?”

“
Querida
, either one could be the
million-dollar question.”

In short order, Juliana sprinted down the mountain.
She had difficulty convincing the Bar Harbor Police that her tale wasn’t a
prank, but finally the sergeant, a friend of her uncle’s, came on the line.
After forty-five minutes, three police cruisers converged on the parking area.

Once in custody at the police station, the three
Mexicans lawyered up, in police jargon, and wouldn’t say a word in any
language. Rick arranged for federal marshals to transport the suspects to the
Cumberland County Jail.

Juliana gave her story to one of the officers while
Rick cleaned up in the restroom. When he returned, cleaner but still bruised,
she couldn’t help listening in on his phone conversation with his office.

A dark scowl knitting his brows, he stabbed a hand
into the air. “How the hell did they know where to go, Jake?” He listened for a
minute, then grunted a response. “I have another lead, but I’ll tell you when I
get back.” He replaced the receiver.

“What is it, Rick? Did the other agent tell you how
they followed us?”

He tunneled fingers through his hair. His burnished
skin stretched taut across his high cheekbones in a fierce, hawkish expression.
“Only a suspicion.”

*****

Soon they left the police station and Rick drove
south. He noted Juliana’s silent stare ahead into the darkness. The road
stretched ahead nearly deserted and quiet, but at every turn of their search,
more danger loomed for her. They were no closer to finding her brother.

If those bastards had grabbed her, her courage wouldn’t
have made an ice cube’s difference in hell to those three. He gritted his teeth
until his jaw hurt.

Once someone spilled their route to Olívas, he must
have sent his men on their trail. They knew some but not all of their stops.
Winter on Mount Desert Island traffic was sparse, and Rick would have spotted
them. The scumbags couldn’t have known about the remote cottage, so they
probably checked out all the parking spots along Route 3 and got lucky.

Olívas must be getting desperate to find Jordan. What
did the kid have or what did he know that was so important?

She protected her brother with all the ferocity of a
mama bear. Like Rudi had defended him against bullies bent on taking his
baseball mitt. She was still sticking up for her little brother against the
bullies. And that included the DEA as well as the drug gang. He’d have to find
out why she distrusted law enforcement so much. But wielding only a pair of
binoculars, she’d defended
him
. She was a hell of a woman.

After a dinner of crab enchiladas and stuffed zucchini
at The Mex in Ellsworth, they drove south in silence. Halfway down the
interstate, Juliana fell asleep. Maybe she felt more secure with him. He drove
on, smiling.

Late that night, as they walked toward her apartment,
Juliana said, “I hate that we have nothing in the plus column. You have those
three guys in jail, and they will tell us zip.”

Rick mused that she hit the mark. “We’ll see who hired
their shyster lawyer. Maybe that will lead somewhere.”

She grinned, green eyes flashing with merriment. “You
can’t help seeing that silver lining, can you?”

“Being hopeful is just my nature.” He started to make
a smart-ass comment about striking out with her, but stopped himself. “About
most things.”

When Juliana stabbed her key into the door lock, Rick
saw puzzlement on her brow and tension in her shoulders. “What?”

“I know I left the deadbolt on. It’s unlocked now.”
Her hand wavered above the knob.

Chapter 9

Juliana wrapped her arms around her waist. She looked
to Rick.

“Shit.” He moved her to one side of the door and then
flicked loose the strap holding his SIG in the holster. “Maybe Venice left it
off when she fed the cat.”

She whispered, “We talked about the deadbolt. Because
of the break-in, you know. I even gave her a to-do list.”

“Of course you did. But it could be Olívas in there.”
He turned the handle and flung the door wide, against the inside wall. His
pistol in a two-handed grip, he stalked in low and swept the room.

Juliana remained frozen, glued against the wall. Adrenaline
roared in her ears.

Smiling, Rick stowed his gun and stepped inside. “You
can come in. It’s all right.”

She slipped to his side, mincing ahead until she saw
who stepped from the bedroom.

Venice Aaron wielded a sling-back high heel high over
her head. In her other arm she carried the cat. Speedy opened one amber eye and
yawned. She gaped in astonishment. “Detective, sugar, you sure do know how to
make an entrance.”

She deposited the cat on the floor and picked up the
other shoe, letting both dangle from one hand. She smoothed her short flowered
skirt.

“Looking mighty fine, Ms. Aaron.” He grinned.

Juliana sagged against him. She dragged in a needed
breath. Behind her, the door closed with a soft click. “Venice, I thought . . .
we thought . . . it was the deadbolt—”

“Sorry I gave you a scare. I had me a late date. When
I came home, I saw this place was dark, so I let myself in to make sure Speedy
was all right. You slammin’ in, I thought it was those creeps after you.”

“We scared you too. I’m sorry.” Juliana crossed to her
friend and they hugged as Speedy wound back and forth, rubbing against their
legs.

Venice held her at arm’s length. “You find any trace
of Jordan?”

How much could they could tell Venice? Juliana cast
Rick a stricken look.

“We’ve had leads, but none has panned out.” He strode
to the window and peered out.

“Uh, huh. Leads. That’s what you’ve been chasing.”
Venice leaned against a kitchen stool as she stepped into her heels. “I see
things are in good—” she paused, batting her lashes at Rick “—hands. I’ll leave
you all alone.”

“Don’t go on my account.” Rick reached for the door
handle. “I’m leaving. Reports to do before I hit the sack.”

Juliana hurried to see him out. She wanted him to go
but she didn’t. In spite of her protests up on the mountain, she wanted him,
this Zorro in his charcoal shirt and black jeans. She was as much a fool as her
brother.

He turned a shuttered expression to her before his
mask fell away. He surveyed her, his gaze full of concern and awareness.

Heat shimmered between them. She forced herself not to
step into his arms.

“The agent I called for earlier just pulled up
outside. You’ll be covered now. Safe.” He stepped closer and tucked a stray
curl behind her ear. Her skin tingled where his finger rasped its trail. His
minted breath brushed her skin. He gave her a wistful smile.”

When Rick was gone, Venice scooted up onto the kitchen
stool. “That man looked like he was gonna spend the night. Hope I didn’t scare
him off.”

Juliana choked on her friend’s too-perceptive
assumption. Speedy’s amber gaze reflected her confusion. Neither one knew what
was going on. She lifted him from the floor and sat on the other stool with him
purring in her lap. “You’re imagining things. There’s nothing between us.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Venice scratched the cat’s chin.
“His sexy dark eyes never left you. And his heart was in them. You can’t look
at emotions like numbers on a balance sheet. Tell me you don’t think for a
minute he’s a user like your mother’s con men.”

“I know that, but I’m not sure he does.”

“I’m no rose-colored glasses kind of girl. My mama
named her baby girl for a city that’s sinking into the sea. But I know it does
no good to sit around fretting like a cat in the rain. If you want that man,
grab him.”

“I have no time for romance . . . or a hook-up. Until
Jordan’s safe, he’s my priority.”

“Girlfriend, there’s only so much you can do about
this fix Jordan’s gotten himself into. Let the cops handle things. If you have
a chance for some happiness, go for the gold.”

Juliana doubted there was any future past a few
passionate nights. She shook her head, trying to shake some sense into her
tired brain.

*****

During the next few days, Rick worked at a desk in the
Portland DEA office. He fought the urge to drive to Portsmouth to see Juliana.
To wrap himself in her scent, to feel her soft skin, to drown in her eyes.
Damn.

Instead, he harassed the guys assigned to protect her,
checked on them every other hour, generally provoking them to the brink of
violence.

The next Monday, Juliana had her car back. An agent
followed her to and from work at Vinson Seafood. If she was keeping something
from him, she’d made no moves to indicate that. No moves one way or another.
She was safe. That’s all he should care about. She was a woman he should avoid.
And he wasn’t the man she needed.

He buried himself in the El Águila files. His
percolating investigative instincts kept brewing up Wesley Vinson as the
American connection, but so far he didn’t have enough for a search warrant. No
evidence. No witnesses.

The draggers, 120-foot-long boats that netted bottom
fish like haddock and flounder, seemed in the clear. They chugged into port
after nine or ten days at sea, then steamed out to fish again. With crews of
six or more, keeping drug smuggling under wraps would be as hard as maintaining
a secret in his gossipy family.

Purse seiners, eighty-foot boats with smaller crews.
More possibility. Motoring out every day in search of bait fish like herring, a
captain could easily meet another boat at sea and add a package or two to the
cargo. The Coast Guard couldn’t be everywhere at once. They would pay no
special heed. Even if Rick had the schedules and cargo lists and checked them
against the DEA’s list of intercepted shipments, he’d still have no evidence.

The jailbirds sullenly refused to open up. More scared
of their Mexican boss than of cops or prison.

He had no leads on the possible leak in the Boston
office either. The notion of betrayal roiled in his gut. Same tangled emotions
Juliana probably felt about Jordan. Hell.

His only hope was in the
Sea Worthy
’s return to
Portland in another week. Finnegan Farnham would have to answer a lot of
questions. A fast run in a Coast Guard cutter might get some quick answers, but
it would also send up warning signals to the smugglers so they could scurry
back under their rocks.