Tempting the Devil (37 page)

“If she can find the slip, she can get credit card numbers, descriptions. Pieces of the puzzle.”

“I thought you had a bargain with the woman. Her family for silence.”

“Her sisters have disappeared. We can't find them. We can't find her. You've been damned little help.”

“We checked with the paper's attorney when we heard she was missing. He said she left for a few days to consider what she's going to do next week,” the younger man said.

“Like the agent?” A raised eyebrow showed disbelief. “Both of them? At the same time?”

“Don't panic.”

The older man fixed him with a stare. “I don't panic. I fix things before they get out of control. She may not name her source, but her disappearance worries us. So does Taylor's trip.”

“Maybe she hasn't gone there.”

“I'm not willing to take that chance.”

“How would Taylor know where she's gone? No one else seems to know.”

“He went by her house. He must have found something in Stuart's house because then he and his partner paid a visit to Amy Boatright's house, the widow of Mark Boatright. You remember him. Then Taylor rushed off for a plane. Bought a ticket just an hour before the flight left. Not normal vacation planning.”

The younger man swore softly under his breath.

“If Taylor's gone to Brunswick after visiting her house, you can bet she's there,” his companion said. “He hasn't wanted to let her out of his sight. I planted some suspicion in her head, but if they get together …” He stopped, then continued, “Make yourself useful. I want to know what happened at the Boatright house.”

“I can't be too obvious.”

“Why the hell do you think we're paying you so much?”

“How do you know he went to the Boatright home? Are you following him?”

“We had someone watching Stuart's house.”

“Isn't that risky?”

The older man shrugged. “Different people. Different cars. Besides, cops are used to following, not being followed.”

“What if the agents noticed them?”

“They didn't.”

“This is getting out of hand. Fire inspectors investigating the fire. The bureau trying to find ways to weasel in. DEA will be next. How could you be so stupid as to kill those officers?”

His companion stiffened, then glared at him with cold eyes. “My people had no choice. They saw me with Paul Joyner—a rumored drug lord with the chief deputy sheriff?”

“So you escalate. And escalate.”

“I've contacted our people in Brunswick. They know what to do if she starts asking questions down there. In the meantime I want to know what Taylor's partner knows.”

“I thought you wanted her alive.”

“I did, but if she's getting close … she's better off dead. I doubt her source will go to anyone else after that. Not if he wants to live.”

“What about the information she says she's given to other people?”

“I don't think she has that much. Not yet, anyway. Otherwise it would be in the paper. It's a chance we'll have to take.”

The train slowed and the older man stood, rocked as it came to a stop. Then he slipped out the door and was gone.

Robin's stomach churned when she rose the next morning. She yearned for hot coffee but there wasn't a machine in her room. She took a quick shower, then ran a comb through the wet, short curls. No dryer. It would just have to dry on its own. Then she slipped on a pair of slacks and a shirt.

Forty minutes later, she arrived at the first marina on her list. This time she started at one of the larger ones. She parked in the lot and strolled down the docks toward the larger boats. None looked like the one she was seeking.

She went to the desk. “Hi,” she said with a brightness she didn't feel.

An appreciative look came over the man's face as he looked up from a magazine. “Can I help you?”

She handed him one of her recently printed business cards and gave him the speech. Like the man yesterday, he was instantly interested. Yet when she mentioned the
Phantom
, she noticed something shift in his eyes, even as he shook his head.

She asked the same questions she'd asked the day before, then said she would like to look around.

He hesitated, then said, “Don't go bothering anyone.”

As she left, she turned and saw him pick up a phone.

She tried to keep her gait even. It was more difficult today. She'd walked too much yesterday, and now the ankle ached more with every step. Should she hurry toward the car? Something in his demeanor told her he knew something about the boat. That meant others in the marina would as well.

She would give herself a few moments. She walked to the dock and down it, hoping to find people aboard the boats there. She struck gold halfway down with a couple who were walking toward her. They held tennis racquets.

She stopped them. “Hi,” she said brightly. “I'm trying to find a boat called the
Phantom
. I want to interview the captain for a story I'm writing about deep-sea fishing. A friend took a trip with him and told me he was really knowledgeable.”

One of them made a face. “The
Phantom
left yesterday, and we weren't sorry to see them go,” said the woman. “The crew kept to themselves. Arrogant as the devil. Complained about everything.”

“Really? The clerk didn't remember a boat like that.”

“Jimmy. He's as bad as they were.”

“Do you know the name of the captain?”

“Stefan something.” They looked at each other. “Something like Fisher. I thought it funny that a fisherman was named Fisher. That's how I remembered it. I do know he was foreign. Had a pronounced accent.”

“How long had they been here?”

“I don't know,” the man said. “Since we've been here. Three weeks. I hear they're here often.”

“Come on,” said the woman, tugging at her companion's hand. “It'll be too hot for tennis.”

Robin thanked them and started back to the office. The clerk had lied to her and she wanted to know why. She watched as the young couple got into a small convertible, then she went to the door of the office. It was locked.

She knocked at it, but no one came. Frustrated, she looked around. No one.

Where had he gone?

Then with terrible suddenness, she was aware of someone next to her, pressing a gun into her side.

“Be quiet, Ms. Stuart, and walk toward the parking lot.”

She knew if she did, she probably wouldn't survive.

She glanced around. No one in sight.

“Move, bitch,” the man said with sudden viciousness.

Maybe there would be someone in the parking lot. Maybe … she could pretend she was terrified.

Pretend
?

Her bad foot hit a stone, and she stumbled slightly. She turned around and looked at her captor. “I … have a bad leg.”

“Yeah, that threw us off,” he said, his hand righting her. “We were told to look for someone in a brace. Get going.”

She limped more than necessary, slowing their progress on the short walk to the parking lot. She passed her car.

“That way,” her captor said. She followed the line of his gaze and saw a dark sedan with tinted windows. She knew once she reached it, she was probably as good as dead.

Her gun was in her purse, but with one in her back she wasn't foolish enough to try to use it.

“Who are you?” she said.

“You didn't hear what I said. Walk. Naturally. Toward that car.”

“If I don't?”

“Then you can die right here.”

“I have information with other people …”

“Move,” he ordered again, the gun pressing even deeper into her side.

A car horn blew. Her captor looked to the dark sedan.

A warning
?

The blast of the horn sounded again. She was aware of a car roaring toward them, then screeching to a halt between where she and her assailant stood and the dark sedan. Her captor spun around as the door opened and Ben Taylor burst from inside, a gun in his hand.

But her captor had a second's advantage …

Robin threw herself at him and the shot went wild.

He knocked her to the ground. She rolled over and saw Ben jump her attacker, both of them landing on the cement. Ben hit the man's head against the pavement and the assailant went limp.

She looked up. Two men from the parked car were racing toward them. A van squealed into the parking lot.

“Ben!”

He looked up and saw the van coming, then grabbed her hand. She resisted, leaned down and picked up her purse, then let him push her through the open door into his car. She scooted over to the passenger side as the two men neared the car. The motor was idling, and Ben stepped on the gas. The car seemed to jump, then accelerated.

The two men scattered as Ben steered toward them, then took a sharp right, barely avoiding crashing into the oncoming vehicle. Then they were over a curb. The car sped onto the highway, the van accelerating behind them.

She turned back. The van was only yards behind them. She doubted it would take much time for the dark sedan to follow. Ben swerved just as a shot rang out. She landed against the door. She managed to fasten the seat belt and he swerved again, driving from one side of the road to the other as she heard another shot.

Every nerve leaped and shuddered as the car swayed. Ben made one more turn and the car headed straight toward a truck coming in the opposite direction.

chapter twenty-seven

Ben jerked the steering wheel and whipped the car around the corner, barely missing the truck.

He glanced through the rearview mirror. The van was just behind him. He watched the driver frantically swerve to avoid hitting the truck and ram into a parked car, effectively blocking the street. The horn blared. Whoever drove the dark sedan, the one that had been waiting in the parking lot, was completely blocked.

Ben turned another corner at full speed, then drove south.

“Do you have a phone with you?” he asked Robin as he made yet another turn and slowed.

She didn't answer for a moment and he glanced at her. Her fingers clutched the handle of her purse with a death grip. Her face was frozen. So it wasn't only the purse. He remembered her telling him about the automobile accident. The terror, a kind of acceptance. The crash. Was she reliving that during his wild dash to safety?

He wanted to hold her, but neither of them could afford that at the moment. Instead, he had to snap her out of it. “Call 911 and report the accident,” he said. “Say you heard gunfire, that people in the car and the van might have been shooting at each other. Then hang up. Sound hysterical.”

“That won't be hard.” The voice was weak but a spunky humor was in it.

He threw her another glance. Hardly. He'd discovered she was not the hysterical type.

Her hands shook slightly as she said exactly what he told her, then turned the phone off.

“Quick thinking, deflecting his shot. But foolish. He could have turned the gun on you.”

“Better you than me?” she asked dryly.

“True,” he said, trying to contain a smile. “I can take care of myself.” Her face relaxed slightly. Her grip on the purse didn't seem quite as tight.

He drove two more blocks, then turned again on a side street and traveled another three blocks before he heard wailing sirens. He had to get rid of the rental car. No question that the perps had taken the license plate number.

He turned into the parking lot of an abandoned convenience store and drove to the back, where they were completely hidden. He put the car in park, but didn't turn off the ignition.

He turned to her. Her face was pale.

“Why did you run away without an explanation?” He tried to temper his words, but he realized his voice was cold. Hard.

“I didn't know I had to give you one,” she shot back.

“You step from one disaster to another. That's your business,” he continued caustically. “Problem is, you leave chaos for everyone else in your wake.”

She looked stricken, and he wanted to take her in his arms. God, he'd wanted to do that since he watched her throwing herself into her assailant to deflect his shot. She came too damn close to being killed.

“I'm grateful for your help today,” she said stiffly. “Very grateful, in fact. But I had my reasons.”

“You always have your reasons. They're not always good ones.” He had to give that to her.

Her eyes met his. “Maybe you're right,” she admitted.

God, but she got to him. The vulnerability in her eyes just then drained his anger.

He itched to touch her face. He started to reach out to her, then hesitated. Bad idea. She hadn't wanted him around. She didn't trust him.

Still, something in him responded to the fear that still lingered in her eyes. Even now he wanted to ease it.

He touched her face, pushed back some errant curls. Attraction rippled between them again. Fueled, he knew, by the adrenaline they both felt.

The air was thick with emotion. His fingers stroked her cheek, then curled around her neck, easing the tension. Her arms went around him, her breath whispering against his lips.

Then his lips met hers, lightly at first, then hungrily with all the anger and frustration he'd experienced in the last two days. Her lips moved against his, responding with an intensity that shook him. She opened her mouth, and he plundered it, ravishing and taking and giving.

Somewhere in his consciousness, he heard another siren. And another.

He moved away.

Robin looked stunned, as stunned as he felt. All the feelings between them, all that distrust and anger had exploded into something that went beyond reason.

Somehow he forced himself to put the car in gear. This was not a good place to be.

His hands shook slightly as he turned the car out of the parking lot and toward the interstate.