Undercover Pursuit (16 page)

“Besides,” Chet said, “we don't have room in the chopper. You'll have to find your own ride back to the mainland.” Chet reached into his pocket and pressed his cell phone into Luke's hand. “And don't leave us hanging.” Then he turned and ran back to the chopper.

Mae lifted off into the blue sky.

Luke turned and ran toward the hotel.

Please, please let him not be too late. He looked a mess—dirty and covered in blood, his white pants showing the day's chaos. He sprinted up to the hotel and around the outside, hoping to catch her at the taxi stand.

Raoul stood, staring out after a town car as it motored down the road, over the bridge, toward the city center.

“Raoul! Was Scarlett here?”

Raoul seemed to look right through Luke. “He got in with her.”

“Who got in with her? What are you talking about?”

“Mr. Sanchez. He got into the car with Scarlett. And he had a gun.”

Mr. Sanchez. Claudio. “Was it Benito's father? Big guy, older than the groom?”

Raoul nodded.

No, no, no. Luke sprinted toward one of the rental
scooters, lifting it off its kickstand. “Run to the cabana and tell the CIA that Claudio has Scarlett.”

The scooter nearly wheelied out of the lot as he full-throttled it over the bridge after the town car.

Claudio wasn't going anywhere with Luke's girl.

 

“Get out of my cab!”

Claudio actually laughed. He put his gun in her face and laughed.

Scarlett had never truly understood the expression “a cold streak of fear” until that moment.

“You fooled me with your little game. I thought you were the real thing,” Claudio said, pointing his gun again at the cabbie, who had shrunken down as low as he could go.

“Drive us to the marina at the far end of the island.” Claudio turned to Scarlett. “I sent my yacht to anchor offshore this morning, after we disembarked. It seemed wise, just in case…” He smiled at her, baring his teeth.

“Please, Claudio, it's over. They just wanted your brother.”

“You have destroyed my life! My son, betrayed. My family broken!” He poured his fury out, and she thought she might throw up.

Okay, yes, now she understood Luke's fear for her. Now it felt real, ugly. Deadly.

“I should have listened to my instincts. I knew Lucia was lying. I knew you were lying.”

“You're the one who was trying to kill her.”

“Scare her. Enough for the truth to come out. For her to run. Clearly it was not enough.”

He clamped his hand around her upper arm. “But now
she'll see that she should keep her mouth shut. She'll see what happens to people who betray the family.”

Scarlett clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking.
Please, God. Please. I'm sorry I didn't see You waving me off sooner.
Why had she treated this as a game? Why had she gotten herself in over her head?

She should have shown up, given her sister an amazing wedding and returned home to her paperbacks. Maybe adopted a cat. Why had she thought she could be some sort of hero?

A thump rocked the car and the cabbie nearly swerved off into a white-painted palm tree. Then she saw legs kicking at the back window and a hand slamming the passenger door and—

Luke! Like some sort of superhero he had landed on top of the car!

She lunged for the door but Claudio grabbed her arm and rolled down his window. He leaned out, aiming the gun at the roof.

“Luke, look out!” She launched herself at Claudio, clawing at his arm. He squeezed off two shots, but they went wild into the air.

The cabbie was shouting. Claudio slammed his hand into her jaw.

Pain exploded in her eyes and she fell back. Then, hallelujah, she hit the door. Blinking back dots and praying she wouldn't be trapped in the tulle, she lunged for the door handle.

The door popped open just as Claudio swore. She turned back to see her shoe connect with his face.

Oh, God, please help me.

She stared at the pavement streaking by, then with every ounce of courage she had, she launched herself from the door to freedom.

Yes, she'd seen it done in movies but this was very different. The ground had never felt quite so hard, the pavement so hot, and she yowled as she tried to land on her feet. She tripped and skidded into the curb, banging into a row of motor scooters.

One crashed down on top of her, pinning her.

Then she lay there, because her entire body felt as if it had turned to fire.

“Scarlett!”

She heard him beyond the rubble, heard his grunts as he fought with the bikes. “Are you okay? Please be okay!”

She wanted to say yes, but she hadn't yet found her voice.

Then, suddenly, she was free. And scooped up.

Her heart stopped right there. She hadn't left the fairy tale behind at all. Here he was, her prince, staring at her as if he'd nearly lost her forever.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

She thought so. She managed a nod as he pressed his forehead to hers and she felt his entire body tremble.

Then, the screech of brakes, and shouting. Luke looked up, searching for the noise. He didn't have to tell her. She could read his face.

The car had slammed into a whitened palm tree. But Claudio had kicked open the door. He rounded and saw them.

He raised his gun.

“Can you ride?” Luke set her down.

She scooped up her dress.

He grabbed her hand and began to run back down the street where his scooter lay on its side. A shot fired. Then another. She stifled a scream. Luke looked back.

Please, God, let the driver be okay. Don't let anyone get shot!

Luke let go of her hand, reached the bike and pulled it upright. “Get on!”

He didn't have to tell her twice. She tossed the train of her dress over her arm and jumped on behind him, barely catching his waist as the bike tore away.

“Where are the good guys?” she yelled into his ear.

“It's just us, honey. Hold on.” They shot past scooters, cars, pedestrians.

Just us.

How she liked the sound of that.

Behind them, she heard an engine and turned.

Claudio had found new wheels and was burning up the pavement toward them.

Oh, she took it back. She might have liked company, namely that shiny black chopper, to swoop from the sky.

“Hang on!” Luke shouted as he left the pavement, bumping over the curb to the boardwalk.

Claudio's “borrowed” car flew over the embankment, scattering people and pigeons. Scarlett tightened her grip around Luke's waist as she glanced back.

Just in time to see Claudio stick his arm out the window, gun in hand.

She screamed as he began to shoot.

L
uke just might get them both killed after all. He had the scooter throttle wide open, topping out at a mind-blowing 50 mph, yelling and laying on his horn as he barreled down the sidewalk along the beach. Mothers grabbed at their children, dogs turned to chase them.

Please don't let any of them be killed by Claudio. In his side mirror, he spotted the lunatic bearing down on them in a car.

And please let Brody have understood his panicked, garbled words. He'd pressed speed dial, pretty sure Chet would have one of the five Stryker team members programmed in. He hit the jackpot when Brody answered, screaming above the shrill chopper noise.

He'd screamed back that he needed help, then got disconnected.

Scarlett's hands locked around him, holding on.

Trusting him.

He'd liked how “just us” spilled out of his mouth.

He hoped to use “us” again. And “we.” And “Together.” And those pronouns that couples used.

“Hurry up, he's gaining on us!”

Not so much
that
usage of
us.

God, please, if You were serious about trusting
You, give me a sign. Because I want to trust You, I do, but—

And then he heard it. The glorious sound of a Seahawk chopper hovering overhead, rough and full and thunderous.

He veered hard, bumping off the boardwalk, toward the pier that jutted out to the harbor. The ferries had left, the tourists all disembarked.

They needed a clear area for Brody or Chet to take a shot with one of those mounted machine guns and not hit anybody. Please, don't hit anybody. Except, of course, Claudio.

He gunned it toward the pier, toward the clear blue of the sea, and Scarlett made not a peep, just dug her chin into his shoulder and held on.

Please, let this work. He glanced in the mirror. Claudio took the bait, bearing down on them. He maneuvered them through the gate, but Claudio slammed right through, ten feet away, five, gunning up hard on their tail.

Scarlett's grip on him tightened. Luke swerved the bike back and forth. He needed space between the scooter and Claudio if the Stryker team hoped to open fire. Machine guns weren't known for their accuracy.

Claudio roared up closer.

And in the near distance, he made out the wail of a siren.

Luke had no choice. “Brace yourself, Scarlett! We're going to get wet!”

Just as Claudio caught his bumper, ready to give them a push, Luke cut hard and soared off the edge of the pier, into the clear blue ocean.

As if they could read his mind, Brody and Chet opened up, creating the sound of gunfire in Luke's wake.

He splashed down, still glued to the scooter, Scarlett's arms hooked around his waist. He let the scooter go and kicked up toward the surface.

Scarlett's hands loosened from around him. He turned, reaching for her, but her grip slipped away.

He kicked again, clearing the surface, gulping in air.

“Scarlett!” She hadn't surfaced yet. He turned, searching. “Scarlett!”

He ducked under the water.

There, some fifteen feet down. He saw white as she fought with her dress, caught in the wheels of the scooter.

A fight she was losing, and fast.

He kicked toward her, grabbing the dress. It had spun a couple of times around the wheel, pinning her to the bike. He tugged, but it wouldn't move. His lungs began to burn.

She looked at him, wide-eyed. A bubble emerged from her mouth as her air leaked out. No, no—

Then, he turned her around, grabbed the dress with its thousand tiny buttons and ripped.

It came apart. As her eyes closed, he slipped her arms free, grabbed her around the waist and tugged.

The dress fell away as Luke pulled her free, her white slip like an angelic dress around her. He kicked hard.

By the time he broke the surface, she'd turned gray, her lips cool. “Breathe, Scarlett!”

Breathe. He held her neck with one hand, her nose with the other, and breathed into her mouth while treading water. Her chest rose, fell.

“C'mon, Scarlett!”

Another breath and she spluttered, coughing, her body twisting even as he caught her to himself. “Shh.”
He cradled her to his chest as he kicked toward shore, sweeping her into his arms as soon as he hit the beach.

She stared up at him, her eyes wide, still coughing.

Shaking, too.

Behind them, Claudio's car sat on the pier, tires blown out, Claudio facedown on the hood of his car, being cuffed by local police.

The chopper blinked out across the horizon. Thank you, Stryker team.

Luke set her down on the sand. His hands trembled and he thought he might throw up. He had to put a hand out, catching himself on the sand before he fell back.

She cleared her throat. “I thought I was going to die.”

He didn't mention the fact that she, uh, did.

“Me, too.” In fact, the words came out so raw, he cupped his hand over his eyes. And then, he started to cry. Oh, he tried not to. Tried not to turn into an idiot right there on the beach, but—

“It's okay, Luke. I'm okay.”

She slipped her hand onto his shoulder. He didn't look at her as he covered her hand with his. He just kept his other hand over his face, trying to rein in his emotions.

“I hope this means you have feelings for me, too.”

Oh, Scarlett. He couldn't help the smile. Or the happiness now flooding through him, taking over him. “Yeah. I…have feelings for you.”

“Thought so,” she said. “And that's convenient, because I need a date to this wedding…”

And then, because she'd washed the fear right out of him, sitting there with the sun at her back in the glow of twilight, he turned to her, cupped his hand to her face
and kissed her. A full-on, no-doubt-about-it kiss that she returned with something he'd call gusto. Her arms went around him, and she let him pull her to him. He kissed her as he'd wanted to since she'd gotten into his cab with those ludicrous boots and her winter pallor and turned his world to fire.

Scarlett. She'd made him believe again in second chances, in loyalty, in trust. More than that, in her kiss he tasted his tomorrows, could even see her from the view of the altar, walking down the aisle toward him. He could see himself waking up next to her, to her morning smile. So this was what it felt like to stop living in fear. To trust. To love.

Scarlett. He might have breathed her name, because she pulled back and looked in his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said. “So, uh, see, I, uh…”

“Oh, don't think you're backing out now, double-oh-seven. I blew off two other guys for you. And, frankly, I think you owe me a new dress.”

“I think you need a towel. Or a beach wrap.” He pulled her close, his arms around her. “Or we could just stay like this.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist again. Yes, she could stay like this for as long as she wanted.

“Do you think we could start over, Scarlett? Maybe without the covert undercover stuff?” He hated how much vulnerability he heard in his voice, but well, maybe that was a new Luke, too. One who could show his feelings occasionally.

Sometimes.

“No. I don't think so.”

He went still.

She pulled away from him. “Relax, Superman. No, I'm not starting over. I like my new life and I'm keeping
it. No more starting over with a new job, a new identity. I'm keeping this one. And I'm keeping you.”

She was keeping him.

He kissed her again, softly, like a whisper. “I love you, Scarlett. It scares me to say that, but I can't be an honest man and not tell you that you changed my life.”

“No more solo acts?”

“No more solo acts. And I'm not sure how this is going to work, with me traveling so much, but it can, if we want it to. Because I trust you. And I hope you will trust me.”

“With my life.” She touched her forehead to his. “I love you, too. You make me feel like I'm worth chasing after.”

“Oh, you are. I promise, you are.” He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her eyes, and drew back to drink in her smile. “Some wedding, huh?”

She looked at him, her mouth open. “The wedding!”

“Right! The
wedding.
” He got up and pulled off his shirt to give her a little extra coverage.

“Should we change first?” she said as she stood, water running down her sand-caked legs, shivering slightly.

He put his arm around her and drew her tight against him. “Naw. You look fabulous just the way you are.”

 

If Scarlett could choose any time, any place to get married, it would be right here, on the south cliffs, under the glow of the lighthouse, with the sun turning to amber on the horizon and streaking the ocean with gold.

It wasn't Scarlett getting married, but that was fine for now, with Luke taking her hand as they ran toward the small ceremony. The floral arch framing the groom,
Duncan resplendent in his tux, the pastor waiting as Bridgett—

Where was Bridgett?

Scarlett saw her standing in the doorway to the lighthouse, hiding.

Bridgett looked up as Scarlett ran up to her, the scared expression upon her face giving over to horror. “Are you okay?”

Scarlett looked herself over. She'd picked up the beach dress with the large red poppies from a vendor and pushed her wet hair into a fake flower at the side of her head. That and a pair of red flip-flops—hey, she wasn't a bridesmaid, right?

“We went swimming,” Luke said, looking exactly like a beach bum in his blue floral swimming trunks and white “Surf Mexico” T-shirt. She'd made him take off the Ray-Bans as they got out of the taxi, but other than that, she loved him just the way he was.

He was the real deal. She'd felt it in his kisses, in the way he'd cried after breathing life back into her. No more pretend.

Her sister pursed her lips and Scarlett held up a hand to stave off a meltdown. “I'm sorry we're late. What are you doing here? You should be at the altar, saying ‘I do.'”

“Uh, well, I was hoping you'd show up.”

Scarlett actually looked behind her. “Me. You were waiting for me?”

Bridgett raised her shoulder and gave her a watery smile.

Uh-oh. All was not well in Bridgett's world. Scarlett glanced at Luke and he stepped to the side but stayed close. “If you think I'm walking away from you after
today's events, you've got another thing coming,” he said softly.

She smiled at that. Her sister glanced at him, more questions on her face.

“Not now. Tell me why you're really standing here and not at the altar.”

Bridgett closed her eyes. “I really was hoping you'd show up. Because…” She opened her teary eyes. “I don't have anyone to give me away.”

Oh. Right. Scarlett's voice softened. “Since when did you turn old-fashioned?”

“Since I realized that you're the only family I have left, except for crazy Aunt Gretchen—”

“She's not crazy. Just agoraphobic. And a hoarder. And, well, if you got to know her—”

“Which is the point. I didn't. And I barely know you. I've just been so busy that I missed out. I miss Mom and Dad, and I miss you.” She drew in a breath. “I couldn't walk down the aisle without telling you I'm so sorry I fired you.”

“Twice.”

Her sister's mouth lifted in a smile. “Twice. The wedding is beautiful, Scarlett. I can't believe you did this for me. After all I did to you.”

“What did you do to me?” Scarlett asked.

“Oh.” She glanced at Luke, who chose now to pull his sunglasses down over his eyes.

Bridgett took a breath. “You were right about my stealing Duncan. I pretty much came back and saw you had the life that I wanted—”

“You wanted to be a temp, with a pile of romance novels for a best friend?”

“Your best friend was Duncan. And you were loyal to him, and I stole him. And now I really do love him,
but that doesn't mean it was right. And yet you gave me this amazing wedding.”

“Well, I used your credit card.” Bridgett smiled.

And for the first time, Scarlett didn't feel like the afterthought.

Duncan had loved her, just as he said. And she did have a good life. She'd been raised by parents who loved her, despite the demands of their lives, and an aunt who let her into her world, however pained. For the past ten years she'd had a job she'd enjoyed, friends, a home. And that was the point, wasn't it? Just because she didn't have fame and fortune or a face that graced magazine covers, that didn't mean she had nothing. Didn't mean she
was
nothing.

She'd had everything she needed. She glanced at Luke. And now, because God had given her the wrong—or perhaps right—taxi, she had everything she wanted.

Huh.

Maybe she'd never been forgotten after all.

“I'll walk you down the aisle, sis.”

Bridgett drew in a breath. “I'm so sorry, Scarlett. And so lucky to have you. Thank you.”

“Now, clean up those tears, because you're getting married.” Scarlett held out her arm.

She led her sister to the top of the aisle, and as Bridgett smiled at her groom, Scarlett bent down to straighten her dress. She looked at Luke. “You coming?”

“I'm not looking for a part-time gig, you know.” Luke was standing away from her a bit, the sun behind him like a halo.

“So, does that mean this is more than a job to you? That you want to be my wedding date?”

Then the music began to play. She turned to take her
sister's arm, but Luke walked forward and caught her. Then he cupped her cheek and leaned in. Luke kissed her, leaving behind his scent—the sense of danger, of adventure, of a Caribbean romance.

“I do, Scarlett. Oh, I really do.”