“Why?”
He had asked an obvious question, but she gave him an obscure answer. “You just should. I can drive myself to Florida. I don’t need you or Noah to baby-sit me.”
The more she explained, the more forceful her voice became. John Paul reacted to her outburst by simply grabbing his bag, dropping it on the bed, and then beginning to shove his clothes inside.
Noah was standing at the kitchen counter, drinking from a milk carton. He’d made himself a huge sandwich and was polishing it off as she carried her backpack to the door. John Paul was right behind her with her duffel bag and his.
“Let’s go,” he called to Noah.
“I’m right behind you.”
She followed John Paul to the car. He opened the driver’s door, popped the lid on the trunk; then, pausing to glare at her, he tossed their bags inside and slammed the trunk down.
“John Paul, I meant . . .”
He shook his head. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” she asked.
“Don’t insult me again. I told you at least three times I was in this for the long haul. Weren’t you listening?”
She glanced at the door to make sure Noah wasn’t there, then said, “I don’t want you to get hurt. Okay? I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you . . . I don’t think I could . . .”
“I love you too, Avery.”
“It’s too soon . . . you can’t . . .”
“I do.”
“How can you love me?” she whispered.
His left hand cupped the back of her neck, and as he slowly drew her toward him, he whispered, “Want me to count the ways?”
Tears stung her eyes. He wasn’t going to be reasonable. “You’re stubborn.”
“So are you.”
“It won’t work.”
“We’ll make it work.”
“I’m a liberal,” she whispered in desperation.
He kissed her and then said, “I can live with that, but I can’t live without you. Simple as that, sugar.”
His wonderful mouth covered hers in a long, hot, thoroughly arousing kiss. He didn’t overpower her with his strength, didn’t have her chained to him. No, he was being extremely gentle as his mouth slanted over hers. She could have pulled back, but she didn’t want to. She greedily kissed him back.
He growled low in his throat, which only encouraged her to be bolder. And when at last he lifted his head, she sagged against him.
She pushed away from him when the screen door opened.
Noah walked out onto the porch, pulled the door closed, and then tossed the keys to John Paul. “You drive while I catch up on some sleep.”
He caught the keys without taking his gaze off Avery. “You’re gonna marry me.”
“No, I can’t marry you.”
“Did I ask?”
“You just said . . .”
“Did I ask?” he patiently repeated.
Noah glanced at both of them, shook his head, and then dove into the backseat. “Lover’s spat?” he asked.
“No.” They both snapped the word at the same time.
She grabbed the keys out of John Paul’s hand. “I’m driving.”
He didn’t argue with her. The dynamics between the two fascinated Noah. Who would have thought the bear would ever fall? He guessed the old saying was true. There really was someone out there for everyone. A soul mate. Wait until he told Theo about this. He wouldn’t believe it either. The bear was in love.
He couldn’t suppress his laughter. “What the hell’s so funny?” John Paul grumbled.
“You. You’re funny. Hey, Avery. Ever hear the one about the Marine . . .”
John Paul tilted his seat back and closed his eyes. It was going to be a long, long trip.
Chapter 33
THE PLANS KEPT CHANGING. CARRIE DIDN’T LIKE CHANGE, ANY kind of change, unless, of course, she was the one in charge of making those changes. Agent Hillman was point man, and Agent Bean was his gofer. Hillman’s first command when he was placed in charge of Carrie was to order Bean to tell her the decision had been made to keep her in Colorado.
After Bean informed Mrs. Salvetti of the Bureau’s decision and suffered her reaction, he returned to Agent Hillman and threatened to hand in his resignation if Hillman ever made him do that again.
“I’m putting in for combat pay,” Bean announced.
They could both hear Carrie screaming from the waiting room. “Doesn’t she realize there are sick people in this hospital?” Hillman muttered, clearly appalled by the woman’s conduct.
“She doesn’t care,” Bean countered. “She’s demanding to go to Florida and stay in the safe house with her niece.”
“I take it, then, you didn’t tell her we can’t find her niece?”
“No, sir. I thought I’d let you explain that to her.”
“For God’s sake, man. You’re an agent with the FBI. Surely you can handle a cranky woman.”
“With all due respect, sir, she isn’t just a cranky woman. She’s a . . .”
“A what?” Hillman snapped.
A she-devil, Bean wanted to say but didn’t dare. Hillman wouldn’t believe him. Besides, he would find out soon enough what the Salvetti woman was capable of when she wasn’t happy. “Sir, she isn’t what I would call a normal woman. Normal women don’t have fire shooting out of their eyes.”
Hillman was disgusted. “She’ll do whatever we tell her to do.”
Wanna bet? The ringing in his ears, he noticed, had subsided into a dull echo. “Yes, sir, I’m sure she’ll listen to you.” He said the last without breaking into a smile and was quite proud of his achievement.
“We have the woman’s best interests at heart. Surely you explained our motives to her, didn’t you, Bean?”
“She didn’t give me the opportunity to explain our position.”
“When she calms down—”
They both heard another shout. Bean grimaced as Hillman demanded, “Who’s in there with her?”
“Gorman,” he answered. “He must have told her we haven’t been able to locate her niece.”
The door to the waiting room opened and Gorman stepped out. Hillman and Bean stood at the end of the hallway and watched as Gorman hastily pulled the door closed. His face was as red as hot peppers.
Gorman spotted Hillman, drew himself up to his full six foot two height, and walked down the hall to join them.
“Is she giving you trouble too?” Hillman asked.
Bean tried not to snicker. Of course she’d given him trouble. Just look at his face.
“She’s a . . . difficult woman,” Gorman said, trying to be diplomatic. “She refuses to cooperate. Told me she’s going to Florida with or without Hill of Beans.”
“Hill of Beans?” Hillman asked.
Gorman cleared his throat. “That’s what she’s calling you and Agent Bean. Hill of Beans. She’s also demanding a beach house.”
“A beach house? She wants a beach house?” Hillman asked incredulously.
Bean cast him a smug I-told-you-so look. Now, perhaps, his superior would agree that the Salvetti woman was as difficult as he’d told him she was.
“And what did you say to her demands?”
“I told her that wasn’t possible, that since her testimony isn’t mandatory, she’ll be staying in Colorado. I explained the defense attorney has the transcripts of Skarrett’s first trial and he hasn’t asked to depose Mrs. Salvetti again and that, for that reason, there wasn’t any need for her to go to Florida.”
“And her response?” Bean asked.
“She tried to grab my gun.”
“I’m sure she was bluffing,” Hillman said. “Let’s give her a few minutes to cool off,” he suggested.
It was going to take Carrie more than a few minutes to calm her temper. Blowing up was her response to the fear gnawing at her stomach. What the hell was Avery going to do? Did she think she could stroll into that courthouse and testify against Skarrett? Carrie kept picturing her niece being gunned down on the courthouse steps.
If Monk . . . or Jilly . . . got hold of her . . . Carrie rushed to the phone, got an outside line, and called Tony collect. She prayed he hadn’t already left for the airport.
He must have been sitting by the phone, because he picked up on the first ring.
Carrie didn’t waste time on preliminaries. “They’re going to put me in a house and keep me here, in Colorado,” she blurted.
“Where in Colorado?” he asked.
“They wouldn’t tell me, but I heard one of them talking on his cell phone. He didn’t know I was listening, and he mentioned a place called Wedgewood. It must be some kind of suburb.”
“Aspen’s too small to have suburbs,” he countered.
“I don’t know where the hell it is. Look it up on the Internet, for God’s sake. Use your head. There can’t be more than one Wedgewood suburb in Colorado.” She burst into tears. “If I have to be in a safe house for a long time, what will happen to my company? I can’t be away too long. I can’t . . .”
“Honey, I can handle things here. I’ve run a company before.”
“But I need you with me, Tony. You have to come.”
“All right, I will,” he promised. “I won’t let you go through this alone. Do you want me to come to the hospital? Can they wait to move you until I get there?”
“I’ll make them wait,” she said. “Sara has already been moved into the new physical therapy wing. It hasn’t even been opened yet, so security’s easy. I’ll stay there with her until they move both of us. I won’t let them take me anywhere until you get here.”
“Yes, okay,” he said, sounding relieved.
“Do you know they can’t find Avery? When she called me, she told me she wouldn’t be joining me in protective custody. Have you talked to her?”
“No, not yet. I’ve been pacing by the phone, waiting. It’s not like Avery to make me worry. I don’t understand why she hasn’t called.”
“She knows you’ll give her hell for upsetting me,” Carrie said. “She doesn’t like to disappoint either one of us.”
“I know, honey, but I’m worried sick about her.”
“Me too. She’ll call, and when she does, you tell her not to go to Sheldon Beach. Make her realize how dangerous it will be for her.”
“Yes, I will,” he promised. “I’m not going to let anything happen to her.”
“What if Avery calls after you’ve left for the airport?”
“Honey, she knows my cell phone number.”
Of course Avery did. Carrie was so rattled she couldn’t think. “I’ll see you soon.”
Carrie hung up the phone and decided to call Avery’s office to find out if her friends had heard from her, but she was prevented from making any more calls when Agent Hillman walked into the room and told her that Judge Collins wanted to talk to her.
“We’ll be moving you into the new wing in a few minutes.”
“Yes, all right. Whatever you say.”
Hillman was surprised and pleased by her cooperation. He was feeling a bit smug too, for he’d been right. He’d told Bean and Gorman that once Mrs. Salvetti calmed down, she would cooperate, and she was doing exactly that now.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad assignment after all.
Chapter 34
JILLY HAD JUST HAD A FULL BODY MASSAGE AND WAS NOW wrapped in a four-hundred-count Egyptian cotton sheet with the logo of Utopia stamped on the hem. She lay on her back, her eyes closed, while the female technician applied an avocado facial mask. The stupid woman wouldn’t stop talking. She gave Jilly one compliment after another about her flawless complexion and her oh, so perfect body.
Jilly never tired of hearing compliments from men, but she didn’t care what women thought about her, and just when she was about to tell the technician to shut up, she finished applying the goo and said, “We’ll just let this set for fifteen minutes.”
She was finally alone. Loosening the sheet, she let the cool air caress her body. It felt good to relax, especially after she’d become so distraught over the news that Carrie and the judge had survived the explosion. Fortunately, Monk hadn’t been in the bungalow when that horrid news came on the television, so she didn’t have to try to behave. He had never seen her throw a full-blown tantrum, and she didn’t know how he would react. She certainly didn’t want to scare him, not yet anyway, because he was so terribly useful. There was still too much to be done, and it was imperative that Monk stay the loyal lapdog.
Carrie used to call her fits rages, but Jilly had learned control over the years. Not much, but some, she qualified. Admittedly, if one of the housekeeping staff had happened to walk into the bungalow just after Jilly had heard the news about Carrie, Jilly probably would have attacked her. And enjoyed every moment of it.
Jilly had never killed a person. She’d let her men take care of her problems. Wasn’t that what they were for? She had often wondered, though, what it would feel like to kill someone with a gun or maybe even with her bare hands. If someone caused her to be unhappy, then watching her die did seem fitting. Why should she deny herself that joy and satisfaction? She realized now that Monk had been right all along. He had wanted to kill each woman separately and make the deaths look like accidents, but Jilly had pleaded and cajoled until he’d given in and done things her way. How could such a brilliant plan not work? It was so perfect, so simple, so . . . brilliant.
Carrie. Carrie was the reason the plan hadn’t worked. That selfish bitch had ruined everything.
Jilly threw herself on the bed and pounded her fists into the pillows. She stopped suddenly. She heard the newscaster on CNN with the lead-in for the footage that was coming on the screen again. She bolted upright, impatiently wiping the tears from her eyes, and stared at the screen. The film was focusing on the judge, but Jilly wasn’t interested in her, no matter how famous she was supposed to be. She waited, whimpering, until finally the camera turned to her bitch of a sister as she was being carried on a stretcher into the ambulance. Men, paramedics, no doubt, but still men, were actually fawning over her. How dare they give her any attention? How dare they? Jilly was more enraged by the men’s behavior than by the fact that her sister was still very much alive.
The camera zoomed in on Carrie’s face. Jilly thought she saw her smiling, and that proved to be the last straw. Screaming obscenities, she picked up a lamp and hurled it into the wall.