Masters File, page 14
“Jeez, Ryan. Why are you telling me this? I’m a dead woman?”
He took hold of her hand, but in the face of twelve million and a shallow grave, the gesture hardly felt comforting.
“I am going to talk to Ernesto, see if I can broker some kind of deal,” he said.
She slid her hand away from him. “Ryan, I already owe you for the rescue mission. I can’t afford to pay you to brokerage a deal with a drug lord on my behalf.”
His jaw tensed as his voice hardened. “And I’m not doing it for the money, Jenna.”
She blinked at him, surprised by his tone and a little aroused by his intensity. “I’ll talk to him with you.”
“Out of the question.”
“If he signed my death warrant, the least he can do is talk to me first. Judging by the doom and gloom reality talk you’re giving me, I’m dead if this doesn’t work anyway, right?”
“No. We’d go somewhere. Keep you safe.”
“From a man who lost twelve million? Not likely.”
“You’re not going, Jenna.”
She ignored him. “Don’t they have some type of parlay or something until we meet?”
“Those are pirates,” he said wryly.
“There must be something like that.”
“I’m not putting you in harm’s way, Jenna.” He was beginning to sound as though his patience were cracking.
She looked him in the eyes, not caring if he turned big, green, and ugly. If she didn’t face this—get out in front of this—the Cubans could go after Cal.
To hell with that.
“This situation outcome leaves me fifty shades of dead, so I’m going to be part of the solution.”
He worked to restrain a grin. “I’m pretty sure death is a black and white thing.”
“Hmm. Maybe in your world, Ranger. Come to my ICU, and I’ll show you the gray shades of death.”
“Touché,” he said quietly. He leaned back and bit his bottom lip.
She had the sudden, inexplicable sensation of wanting to be the one biting those lips. She crossed her arms, more to restrain her strange impulse to want resume yesterday’s couch activities than to convey impatience.
Watching him silently, she waited for him to acquiesce.
Her mind continued to wander to the kisses they’d shared. She wanted to feel his warmth and strength. She wanted to smell his cedar scent. She wanted to feel the way his fingers curved into her flesh with desire.
Ugh! What’s wrong with me?
She was ogling him like a diabetic in a doughnut shop who hadn’t savored an apple fritter in a half a dozen years.
She had shifted from rejecting him to calling him for help in a life- threatening situation to trying to jump his bones. He must think she was bizarre, which would be true.
He looked at her curiously, making her wonder if the man was reading her mind or if she was exceedingly transparent.
“Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll talk to Max. We’ll set up a meeting.”
Ernesto sat at his desk, staring at Juan as he explained what happened in Chicago. He had been introduced to Dr. Masters when their meeting was abruptly interrupted. Hours had eked by before they acquired information about what events had transpired.
Dr. Masters had hired protective services. Surprise. Surprise. She was smarter than her ex-husband had insinuated.
Ernesto felt his eye twitch in irritation. No one on his team knew she had hired a security team. Nor had they taken any precautions to ensure they hadn’t been followed. Since they now all had bullet wounds, perhaps they would remember to be less careless next time.
He picked up the fingernail file on his desk and began smoothing the edges of his nails. “Who is protecting her?”
“A company called Rider Security and Investigation. Small group based out of Atlanta.”
Ernesto’s eyes flickered irritably to Juan then back to his fingers. “And they want a meeting?” Someone from the company had called requesting to speak directly to him, but he declined, letting Juan take the call.
“Sí.”
Ernesto ran his tongue along his teeth as he turned his gaze to look out his office window. “Bayfront Park, as they requested. Set it up. Ground team. Sniper team.”
He needed to squeeze funds out of Dr. Masters before he killed her. If she had money to pay a security team, she had money to pay him. Killing her at this meeting would be counterproductive, but he would be prepared for defensive measures if needed.
A small security team wouldn’t have the resources or audacity to affront the Cuban mafia. They obviously wanted a negotiation, and Ernesto was willing to help Dr. Masters work-out a payment plan. Abducting her had perhaps been a hasty maneuver. Since she had savvy and resources, he could be magnanimous enough to find a mutually beneficial agreement—one where he drained her funds and she lived a bit longer.
Jenna watched Jess rush into the room. Jess threw her arms around her in more emotion than she’d ever seen the small woman express. She had found coverage and left work to come see Jenna.
“I’m so sorry, Jenna. Ryan told me Brad’s colossal screw-up. Jackass.”
“Thanks.”
Ryan sat back down on the couch to work on his laptop.
Jenna released the hug and walked with Jess into her bedroom. “I’m going to meet with the Cuban mafia, see what options I have.”
“You’re going to go confront this guy?” Jess’s voice dripped with incredulity and concern.
“I don’t have a choice. I can’t pay him. I have to see if I can reason with him.” Even as Jenna said the words, she realized the improbability of success. She remembered Ernesto’s cold, dark eyes. Her life was unimportant to him. Inconsequential. How do you reason with a cold- blooded killer?
Jenna packed her suitcase as Jess stood staring at her.
“I was an indentured servant to Brad for years. Maybe Ernesto will accept monthly payments.”
“For something that isn’t even your fault?”
“I’m short on options, Jess. I can only hope.”
Jess’s face transformed from devastation to pity. Jenna knew that look. She had shared it with families who clung to hope of their loved one’s survival in the face of certain death.
She looked away as her eyes moistened. She wrapped her phone charging cord into a small, coiled ball. “If anything happens to me—”
“Don’t.”
“Jess—”
“Don’t say it.”
“I need you to look after, Cal.” The lump in Jenna’s throat threatened to choke her.
“Shut up.” Jess said harshly. She crushed Jenna to her in a hug. “Of course I will.”
Burning tears ran down Jenna’s cheeks. “My life insurance policy should—”
“I got it. But you’re going to be fine.”
“I love you, Jess.”
Jess sniffed. “Yeah, well. I’m unique.” She wiped drops from around her eyes and straightened her scrub top.
Jenna had never known the woman to shed a tear.
“I have to go to my shift. I want text updates every few hours. Keep me posted—when you land, when you go to bed, when you face-off with asshole-Ernesto. All of it. Don’t leave me hanging.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jess gave her a wry smile. “And try to enjoy that hunk of yumminess in the next room, will you?”
“Get out,” Jenna said playfully. She ushered her friend out of the bedroom, down the hall and to the door.
Before leaving, Jess gave her one last look. They didn’t exchange further words or hugs. Thank god. Jenna thought she’d crumble if they went another round of sharing emotions.
Jenna closed the door as Jess left.
As she pulled out her phone, Jenna took a deep breath to compose herself. She had another call to make because she wanted to keep her job if she survived this ordeal.
“Hi, Jenna.”
“Brody, I’m heading out of town on urgent family issues,” she told her boss.
Twelve million urgent issues.
“My next shift is covered, but I wanted to let you know in case I can’t resolve things quickly.”
In which case I won’t be around for any shifts ... ever.
“Everything okay with Cal?”
“Yes, Cal is good.”
“Jenna, I heard you were maybe looking for another job. I know you want to be near Cal.”
“Brody—”
“But you’re one of the best physicians I have. Do you know as a supervisor how much I value you? You’re always on time, always thorough, and you have a good bedside manner. And you don’t complain. You make my job easier.”
“Brody—”
“Don’t leave. Don’t leave, Jenna, and I promise I will get you a year-end bonus.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not leaving.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m not working elsewhere. I’m going to Miami.”
She could hear him rubbing his bald head.
“Oh. That type of family issue.”
Brody knew she had left her ex-husband back in Miami. She had made it clear no information about her was to be given out to anyone. Not wanting him to think she was a fragile abuse victim, she had told him the details.
“I’m going to hold you to that bonus, though.”
“You got it.”
Unless I get killed by the Cubans.
17
Jenna felt an odd sense of nostalgia and dread as they neared the Miami airport. She stared out the plane window with Ryan silently seated beside her.
She had left Miami after she and Cal made plans for Cal’s boarding school. She had closed the doors on the mistakes of her past and didn’t need to live in a city that would remind her of them. Yet Miami was also where so many memories of Cal lingered. The best memories of their time as he grew up took place in Antigua, but Miami held its share. Aside from the many beaches and parks, she had taken him to a puppet show at the Adrienne Arsht Center for the Performing Arts. They had climbed the white lighthouse at Bill Baggs Cape Florida State Park. They saw animals at Jungle Island. In the heat of the summer, she would take him indoors to the Miami Children’s Museum.
She moved to Chicago, not only because the hospital offered a great job, but because she wanted a new city without constant reminders of how much she missed her son.
I can’t keep him forever.
With her current situation, she felt grateful he wasn’t caught in the middle. Perhaps she could resolve the problem with Ernesto without Cal ever having to know the danger in which his mother had been involved.
Jenna walked through the doors of a hotel in downtown Miami.
The last forty-eight hours blurred in her mind through the haste of packing and rearranging her work schedule.
A stocky woman with untamed brown hair filled with coarse unruly gray sparklers greeted them at the door. She shook hands roughly with Ryan before turning a set of tired yet friendly blue eyes on Jenna. The woman appeared to be in her mid-fifties with stern lines around her eyes and lips.
She extended a hand. “Dr. Masters, I’m Maxine Rider.” Her mouth sagged in what appeared to be a perpetual frown, but her voice remained relaxed.
Ryan had told Jenna Maxine was a former Marine. Jenna wondered if a hard military life was where her many facial lines had originated.
Jenna shook her hand. “I’m grateful to your team, Mrs. Rider.”
“Call me Max. Ryan is the least pain in my ass of my employees, and he doesn’t cry wolf. He needed help. We helped.” Maxine appeared to be appraising her and Ryan, gauging their stance and the closeness of their bodies.
“Thank you, Max.”
Maxine scratched her chin and seemed uncomfortable yet appreciative of the gratitude Jenna expressed.
“I would have introduced myself sooner, but I used your recovery time to try to get a pulse on the severity of the situation.”
No pulse. Just flat-line. The kind of flat-line an entire syringe of adrenaline wasn’t going to revive.
Jenna’s mouth grew dry. “Thanks.”
“You realize when you go meet Ernesto and all hell could break loose? Have you thought about what your absence would to do Cal? All he’d be left with is a sorry excuse for a father.” The Marine was gruff, but Jenna appreciated the woman being thoughtful enough to consider her son.
“I understand.” Jenna had thought about Cal in the event of her ‘absence,’ which was one of the reasons she needed this debt issue settled. She didn’t want to spend one second turning Cal’s life upside down with the havoc his father had created. She needed to end this chaos ... somehow.
“Barry is in Boston. He’s going to provide surveillance for Cal until this thing blows over. Barry is good. Cal won’t know he’s watching his back.”
Jenna embraced Maxine. She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked away moist eyes. “Thank you, Max.”
She felt the way the other woman stiffened in her arms before patting her back awkwardly. Maxine’s emotional barriers made it easier for Jenna to pull herself together, though her gratitude overflowed.
Maxine turned and walked beside Jenna toward the check-in counter.
Ryan followed, carrying his overnight bag.
Fifteen minutes later Jenna rolled her suitcase into her quiet hotel room.
Ryan gave her a nod. “I’ll be back at six, and we’ll go to dinner.” He left to join Reece in a room.
As the door clicked shut, Jenna turned to look out the window. The swaying palm trees and billboards glinting in the sun towered in bright contrast to her somber mood. Tomorrow she would meet with Ernesto Busta and try to have a rational conversation with a gun-wielding crime lord who probably thought she was nothing more than gum on his shoe, a diverticula in his colon, a mole on his back, a sliver in his finger, a—
Ugh.
She flopped down on the bed.
After this, maybe she could go back to her normal life where she dealt with blood and death daily—just not her own. If she got lucky, she could also engineer a way to punch Brad in the nose for his part in this nightmare. She felt a surge of burning fury toward him. Her divorce was supposed to be the hallmark conclusion of their involvement together. How dare he be so careless when he had a son to consider. She felt impotent as she pondered a way out of this disaster and how to prevent ones in the future.
Curled into a ball, she rubbed her right hand, remembering how Ryan had held it. He’d held it after she video-conferenced with Cal, pretending that all was well and needing to hear him talk about his mundane school day. Ryan had also held her hand on the plane as she stared out the window, flying toward some incomprehensible fate.
She pushed herself up, walked to the mini fridge, and opened it. What she wouldn’t give for a drink. But she wasn’t about to pay ten bucks for a single shot of liquor. She closed the fridge. She pulled the water thermos out of her carry-on bag and took a long gulp.
Ryan had promised to take her to dinner at six. Perhaps she could have a glass of wine then. Wine at one’s last supper seemed appropriate.
Ryan straightened his tie again before he knocked on Jenna’s door. He felt a little foolish with butterflies annoying his abdomen.
Former Ranger’s don’t get butterflies.
Besides, he certainly shouldn’t be feeling like this was a date. This was a planning dinner in preparation for their conference with the Cuban mafia tomorrow. They needed to discuss strategy.
Had he missed his opportunity to be with her the other night in her apartment? She had undeniably wanted him and instead he had tucked her into bed. He couldn’t tell if she felt rejected as a result. She hadn’t made any further moves since, but then she’d been a little preoccupied worrying about shades of death.
Jenna opened the door looking as radiant as she had the first time he had seen her in Antigua. Her caramel skin glowed as her copper hair spilled over her shoulders. She wore a blue cotton dress that dipped low into her cleavage, a spot his lips had a sudden raging desire to explore.
“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice sounding foreign and hoarse in his ears.
She must have caught his eyes roaming her body because the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.
“I like this polished look,” she said. “Little different from khaki shorts and palm tree shirts.”
Stepping aside, she let him into her room.
“When on a tropical island undercover, one wears unsightly Hawaiian shirts.”
She turned around and slipped in her earrings from off the counter. By the time she turned back around, Ryan had moved in close. At first he wanted to smell her floral, coconut scent. Now that he stood mere inches away from her radiant eyes and succulent lips, he knew he needed a taste. Just one, if she was willing.
He ran his hands lightly down her bare arms. Her breath caught as her nipples visibly tightened beneath her dress.
She was willing.
He moved in for a kiss, and she met him halfway. Her sensual lips felt soft and smooth. The kiss began gentle and probing before escalating to raw desire that had them both gasping for air. His arms wrapped around her perfect curves as he drew her body closer.
She released a sensual noise, a mix between a moan and a purr.
God, she mesmerized him. They were never going to make that second date at this rate.
He slid down the fabric on her shoulder as they kissed.
Her delicate hands undid the buttons of his shirt.
For an instant, he abandoned all rational thought, picked up Jenna and laid her on the bed. He pulled his shirt off and lay beside her. The sight of her made him catch his breath. Her eyes filled with shear desire, staring at his naked chest. Ready and undaunted, her hungry gaze roamed his body.
He trailed his hand from her cheek to her shoulder and down to the curve of her breast. She was so close but still too far away from him.
