Body of Evidence (Evidence Series) (10 page)

With hand signals, she told him to park the car. Lacking a better option, he complied, but the moment the vehicle stopped, she flung open her door and bolted for the water.

Shit!

Curt had no choice but to follow her.

She zigzagged across the park, weaving between tourists in an almost drunken manner. But still, for a woman who was probably woozy from a head wound, she was
fast
. She was swimming for the breakwater before he reached the waterline. Did she think she could swim to the mainland? Had she lost her
mind
along with all that blood?

Curt had no choice but to kick off his shoes and dive after her. With several swift strokes he caught up to her in deep water, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her against him. “What the hell are you doing?”

They were being hunted—probably by mercenaries—and she’d had him pull over so she could take a
swim
?

She draped her arms around his neck and flashed a blissful smile. “Isn’t the water wonderful? I didn’t think I’d live to see Hawai’i again, let alone get to swim in the ocean.” Her voice held a worrisome dreamy quality.

“Mara, I think you’ve lost too much blood.” Hell. She was underweight, probably hadn’t slept, and had barely eaten. Add blood loss to that and it was surprising she was even conscious.

She threaded her fingers in the wet hair at his nape. “But salt water is good for the cut, and the blood’s been washed away. Plus, if either of us is bugged, the bug has been destroyed by the water, right?”

Relief spread through him. Okay, she might not be firing on all cylinders, but she wasn’t completely irrational either. “Some bugs are waterproof, but your thinking was sound.”

She glanced down at the neckline of her tight-fitting top. “Is it crazy to think my clothes might have been bugged when Roddy’s killer was in my house?”

“Yes, but I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be careful. I think it was my phone, but the only way to be certain is if no one tries to kill you in the next hour.”

She frowned. “I don’t like your method of testing hypotheses.”

He laughed. “I don’t either, sweetheart.”

They bobbed on the surface of the turquoise sea. The water was calm, almost flat due to the lack of trade winds, and the sun beat down on his bare shoulders as he treaded water with her in his arms.

Her wound, her predicament, this entire situation was his fault. If they’d just refueled in San Francisco, they’d be crossing the mainland by now. But he was determined to get something solid on Raptor, and now she was in danger. “I’m sorry, Mara. I seriously screwed up.”

Her expression turned dreamy, and one hand stopped playing with his hair in favor of tracing his pecs. “You’re really ripped. But you probably know that. I didn’t think lawyers could be ripped. My uncle’s lawyers were always slimy weasels…”

“Okay. Time to stop the blood flow. You probably need to eat or drink something too.”

“I feel fine.” Her hand slipped below the water and continued exploring his chest and belly. “Jesus. Where did you get this six-pack? It’s unfair, really, that you’re brilliant, successful,
and
hot…”

He caught her hand and pulled her snug against his body before she could take her exploration too far. “Mara. You need to stop. This isn’t appropriate.”

“Today I’ve been before a firing squad and survived
three
attempts on my life. Screw appropriate.”

He was too transfixed by the sight of water sluicing over the deep V of her top and disappearing into the valley of her cleavage to respond. She flashed a dimpled smile. Her lips looked far too tempting. But even if her dizzy logic appealed, he had to be the voice of sanity.

Jesus. This couldn’t be happening.

The feel of her nipples against his chest was enough to drive him insane, and unfortunately, given their current embrace, even in her light-headed state she had to be aware of his arousal. How the hell had he gotten into this situation? He, Curt Dominick, couldn’t possibly be swimming in the Pacific Ocean twelve hours before the trial with his defendant’s punch-drunk and far-too-attractive niece plastered against him.

That’s it. He would indict the editor-in-chief of
TIME
the first chance he got.

M
ARA FOLLOWED
C
URT
up the beach and back to the car, where he grabbed his bloody shirt and thrust it into her hands with firm instructions to apply it to the cut on her forehead. She didn’t know what his problem was. She felt fine. Maybe a little dizzy, but otherwise better than she had in months.

So she’d lost a little blood and told him he was hot. What was the big deal? She noticed
ample
proof he was attracted to her. “A lifeguard could give us a bandage,” she said.

“Yeah. And check you out for signs of a concussion. But I think you need something to drink first.” He sounded so serious. So boring. Her head didn’t even hurt. She was fine. Right now, all she wanted was to taste the salt water that rolled down his incredible chest.

Who would have thought her own private savior would be built like a superhero? She’d bet he screwed like one too.

“Mara, you need to stop. Jesus.
Please
.”

She must have spoken aloud again. She needed to stop that. It seemed to upset him.

He took her arm and dragged her up the beach to a burger stand. She ordered a Spam musubi—Hawaiian cuisine at its worst, but a snack she’d missed while in North Korea.

Curt made her drink a bottle of Gatorade first. She couldn’t stand the stuff. Then the lifeguard who bandaged her forehead said she had to drink another one before attempting to eat. At last, Curt fed her small bites of musubi, insisting she eat slowly.

Exhausted, she leaned against the man by her side. He argued and cajoled and coaxed her to drink more. Gradually, with each swallow, the world came into sharper focus.

Sometime later, after drinking what had to be gallons of Gatorade, she felt less drunk but no less tired and wondered why Curt was shirtless. In bits and pieces, the last hours crystallized. The shot that had zinged so close to her head she felt the air flow against her scalp. Curt’s body covering her—protecting her again—on the staircase. Most of the drive to the beach made sense. It wasn’t until she was in the water that her memory became really fuzzy.

Oh hell. If her memory was even close to accurate, she’d hit on Curt like a cheap drunk. She felt her face flush and closed her eyes. “Did I say aloud everything I think I did?”

Still leaning on him, she felt his chuckle. “And then some.”

“Keep in mind, I’m having a really, really shitty day.”

“Noted and forgiven.”

She met his gaze. His hazel eyes held concern and camaraderie. Somewhere during this crazy day, they’d become allies. “I feel better. Clearer.”

“Good, because I don’t know my way around here. I need your input.”

“Do you really think your phone was bugged?”

“I think it had been turned into a microphone. We have to assume whoever is after you knows everything I’ve said today, up until the moment you pulled out the battery. Right now we’re stuck. We need a phone so I can arrange a flight for us.”

“We can go back to a base—”

“I’m done trusting the military. Whoever is after you got on and off the Marine Corps Base undetected and got on Hickam without a problem.”

“Maybe he’s been caught.”

“As soon as we get a phone, I’ll call Palea and find out.” He paused. “Which brings us to another problem. Palea’s phone is probably a microphone too. In fact, we have to assume everyone in my phone’s address book is compromised. Somehow I need to get in touch with Palea and tell him that.”

“You can’t call anyone in your cell phone address book?”

“No one.”

“And we can’t go to a military base?”

“Definitely not.”

The enormity of their situation hit her. She’d liked it better when she was light-headed. “Christ, Curt. How are we going to get off this island?”

C
HAPTER
T
EN

R
OBERT
B
ECK PACED
his office, waiting for his son to check in. The day had gone from promising to hell with each attempt Evan made to repair Roddy Brogan’s screwup in allowing Mara Garrett to escape him in North Korea.

Even though Evan had used a Korean explosive to take out the jet, with repeated failed attempts on Garrett’s life, no one would believe the North Korean angle for long, meaning Evan had compounded Roddy’s error to such a degree that it was hard to see a way in which Raptor wouldn’t be implicated.

If Evan couldn’t silence Mara before she left Oahu, his son would have to take the fall for the company. The outcome was the last thing Robert wanted, but Evan had known the risks of failure. And now he couldn’t help but wonder if his son’s feelings for the woman had contributed to the fiasco.

His secure line rang, and Robert snatched the phone without hesitation. “My shot went high,” Evan said without preamble.

“Didn’t you use the scope? That fucker cost ten grand and should have delivered.”

“We’re in Kona conditions. I forgot to adjust the humidity setting.”

Now he was certain. Evan still had feelings for Mara and couldn’t be trusted to get the job done. “You know what this means?”

“I’ll get her, Dad. I know her better than anyone. I can find her even though Dominick’s phone went dead.”

“His phone isn’t sending signals? Did he realize you were listening?”

“I was too busy hauling ass off the base to listen. But I know Mara. I know exactly where she’ll go next.”

Yes, but will you follow through?
“Where will she go?”

“Jeannie Fuller’s house. She’s Mara’s best friend. I bet Mara is wondering why the hell Jeannie lied about what happened that last morning.”

B
ACK AT THE CAR
, Mara dug through her duffle bag and pulled out a shirt for Curt. The shirt, a men’s size medium tee decorated with the unofficial JPAC symbol—a skull on one side with the words, “Search, Recover, Identify” above a globe and trowel on the other—conformed to Curt’s insanely amazing abs like a second skin. “God, you look hot in that.”

Concern returned to his handsome features. “I thought you were better. We can rest longer or get you more Gatorade.”

She shuddered. “No. More. Gatorade.” She touched the butterfly bandage on her forehead. The bleeding had stopped, and her mind was clear. “I’m fine. Wits present and accounted for.”

He frowned. “Then no flirting, Mara.”

The utter lack of warmth in his voice irritated her. He’d been so sweet—so not
him
. She hated the return of the cold prosecutor. “Why? Afraid you’ll respond? Oh, wait, I forgot. You can’t respond, because you aren’t human; you’re a shark.”

He narrowed his eyes and leaned into her, backing her against her dusty car. “I’m human all right, Mara. And the same adrenaline that’s flowing through you is also coursing through me, making me want very human things.” He reached up and cupped her chin, his mouth only inches from hers. His thumb brushed across her bottom lip, and she needed to catch her breath as heat flooded her system. “But there’s one thing you need to remember. I
will
send your beloved uncle to prison. No matter how much adrenaline urges us to be stupid, we can’t forget who we are.”