The Great Escape Read online

  “Let’s just say I’ve kept tabs on you.”

  Her parents. “I’m touched.”

  He gestured toward the section of windows she’d been working on. “You want to tell me why you’re doing that?”

  “Because they’re filthy.” She laid one more grievance at his feet. “The whole place is a mess. If you’re lucky enough to own a house like this, you should take care of it.”

  “I do. A woman comes in every two weeks.”

  “And you can see for yourself what a top-notch job she’s been doing.”

  He glanced around as if he was looking at the place for the first time. “I guess it’s getting a little mangy.”

  “You think?”

  “I’ll hire somebody else.”

  She wondered if his gun was back in its ankle holster. Firearms didn’t bother her. She’d spent years being guarded by armed agents, although they tended to wear business suits instead of jeans and obscene T-shirts. So it wasn’t the gun. It was the fact that she hadn’t known about the gun or the two-week contract or any of the measly details she should have known about before she decided to drop that towel and jump into bed with him.

  She tossed down the squeegee. “Why did my parents hire you? As opposed to someone reputable?”

  That annoyed him. “I am reputable.”

  “I’m sure they thought so at the time.” Viper smirked. “How did they find you anyway? Never mind. You’re on one of those work-release programs the prisons offer.”

  He cocked his head, his expression puzzled. “What’s happened to you?”

  Her rudeness was giving her a rush. “Or maybe an aide spotted your name on a sex offenders registry and decided to play a little prank?” She wanted to go on like this forever, let her tongue run free, fling out one nasty after another, say whatever insult popped into her head without a care about how it reflected on the office of the president of the United States.

  “You wanted to know about me. I’ll tell you.” The Coke can landed with a thud on the wobbly wooden table by the door.

  “No need.” She practiced her new Viper’s smirk. “I don’t care.”

  “I’m thirty-six. I was born and raised in Detroit. In and out of trouble until the army straightened me out. Pulled sweet duty in Germany, went to Wayne State for a degree in criminal justice—”

  “You have a college degree? You can barely talk.”

  That made him angrier. “Just because I don’t brag about my exclusive upbringing doesn’t mean I can’t talk.”

  “I never bragged—”

  “I joined the Detroit police force. Resigned a couple of years ago to take over a private firm in Chicago that specializes in security for corporate executives, celebrities, athletes, and Wall Street crooks getting death threats they damn well deserve. Your parents hired me to guard you because I’m good at what I do. I’ve never been married and don’t intend to be. I like dogs, but I’m gone too much to have one. I also like hip-hop and opera. Make of that whatever you want. When I’m not on duty I sleep in the raw. Anything else you’d like to know that’s none of your business?”

  “Patrick Shade? Is that name another of your many lies?”

  “No. And there weren’t that many lies.”

  “How about Huntsville prison?”

  “Give me a break. You knew that was bogus.”

  She hadn’t exactly. “Construction worker?”

  “I worked construction for a while.”

  “A man of honor. My mistake.”

  He wouldn’t back down. “Your parents hired me. I took my orders from them, and judging from what happened today, they made a good call when they told me not to identify myself.”

  “They’re overprotective.”

  “You’ve gotten threatening letters. You’ve been knocked over a couple of times. And you were part of a high-profile wedding. There is such a thing as exercising reasonable caution.”

  “The only person who caused me any harm was you!”

  He flinched, which should have made her feel better than it did. “You’re right,” he said. “I should have kept my hands to myself no matter how crazy you made me.”

  Knowing she’d made him crazy encouraged her to continue her attack. “Whose idea was Caddo Lake?”

  “It was a good place to keep you out of sight. The rental house was isolated, and your parents wanted to give you time to sort things out and realize you’d made a mistake.”

  “All of you thought that sticking me on the back of a death machine was the best way to get me to Caddo?”

  “I didn’t plan on that.”

  “And here I thought you planned everything.”

  “Yeah, well, next time I guard a bride, you can be damned sure I’ll anticipate that she might take off.”

  She couldn’t listen to any more of this, and she headed for the door. Before she reached it, he spoke again. “I got the bike from a guy in Austin. It was good cover. I rode into Wynette a few days before you arrived so I could hang out in the local bars without anybody getting suspicious. It gave me a chance to see if I overheard anything that made me uneasy.”

  “And did you?”

  “Mainly I heard a lot of people saying that no woman was good enough for Ted. He’s some kind of local god.”

  She frowned. “I knew they didn’t like me.”

  “I don’t think it was personal. At least I didn’t think so at the time. I might have changed my mind about that.”

  She’d heard enough, but as she headed for the back door, Mr. Talky was right behind her. “When your great escape started,” he said, “I figured it’d only last a couple of hours. How was I supposed to know you were having some kind of existential breakdown?”

  His use of the word unnerved her. She wanted burps, not verbal erudition. “It wasn’t a breakdown.” She stalked across the kitchen floor and out onto the porch. But now that she didn’t want to talk, he stayed with her, and he wouldn’t shut up.

  “I could have traded in the bike for an SUV the next day, but I’d have blown my cover, and you’d have tried to pull another disappearing act. Frankly, I didn’t want to work that hard. And don’t try to pretend you didn’t love being on that bike.”

  She had loved it, but she wasn’t admitting anything. She pushed open the screen door and stepped into the yard. “Unfortunately, the ferry doesn’t leave for a few hours, so I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me alone. I’m sure you have things to do.”

  He moved in front of her, blocking her way. “Lucy, that night …”

  She stared at his collarbone. He jammed his hands in his pockets, studied her nose ring. “I’ve never let anything like that happen with a client.”

  She didn’t want to hear about his remorse, and she shot around him.

  “You have a right to be pissed,” he said from behind her. “I screwed up.”

  She spun back. “You didn’t screw up. You screwed me. And don’t think it’s the sex that bothered me. I’m a grown woman. I can have all the sex I want.” Big talker. “What bothers me is that I didn’t know who I was having sex with.”

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Great. Now leave me alone.”

  “Fine.”

  But he stayed where he was. She couldn’t bear hearing more apologies, and she thrust her finger in the general direction of the sunroom. “Try taking care of your house for a change instead of bothering me.”

  “You want me to wash windows?”

  She hadn’t meant that at all. She didn’t care about the windows. “I suppose you could shoot them out,” she sneered, “but that seems a little excessive. Still, it’s your house. Whatever works for you.” With that, she reached the staircase. But with every step she took, her resentment burrowed in deeper. She didn’t want to leave this house. She wanted to stay, to eat breakfast on the screen porch, and take the kayak out, and hide from the world. He didn’t deserve this house. If it were hers, she’d give it the love it deserved. But it wasn’t hers.

  S
he stomped back to the top of the stairs. “You don’t deserve this house!”

  “What do you care?”

  “I don’t. I—” It came to her in a flash. An impossible idea … She closed her mouth. Opened it. “When are you leaving?”

  He regarded her suspiciously. “Tomorrow morning.”

  “And … Are you coming back soon?”

  “Not sure. I’m starting a new job. Maybe September. What difference does it make to you?”

  Her mind raced. She loved this house … this island … She swallowed. “If … you’re not going to be using the house for a while …” She did her best to keep her voice even, not let him see how important this had become to her. “I might want to rent it. I have some things to do, and this is as good a spot as any.”

  “What kind of things?”

  She wasn’t telling him about the panic she experienced whenever she thought of going back to Washington. Instead, she shrugged. “Take a real vacation. Cook. I have some writing to do for my father. You can apply my cleaning fees to the first month’s rent.”

  He regarded her stonily. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  She wasn’t giving up so easily. “So all that talk about how you screwed up was just talk, right? You don’t have to back it up? Make some kind of atonement?”

  “Atonement? That’s what this would be?”

  Atonement, but not forgiveness. “Why not?”

  He stared at her for a long time, and she stared right back. “All right,” he finally said. “You can have the place for a month. Rent free. And my sins are all forgiven.”

  Not by a long shot. “Deal.”

  A rabbit darted across the yard. She escaped to the dock, where she pulled off her boots and dangled her feet toward the water. The only deep emotion lurking behind that airport kiss had been guilt. Still, with the prospect of being able to spend more time on the island, she wasn’t going to regret the impulse that had brought her to this place where she was free from everyone’s expectations. She could be herself, even if she was no longer certain exactly who that person was.

  With the sun beating down on the dock and her tutu skirt itching like crazy, she got too hot and climbed back up to the house. Panda was fixing the backdoor windowpane she’d broken. She decided to skirt the house and go in the front so she wouldn’t have to talk to him, but on the way, she glimpsed a bright red T-shirt moving through the woods. Her nerves were already stretched too tight from the day’s tension, she was sick of being spied on, and something inside her snapped. “Toby!” She ran into the trees. “Toby! You come back here!” He kept running, and she barely avoided a tangle of wild blueberries as she charged after him.

  He knew the terrain better than she did, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t letting him get away. Just as she jumped over a thick patch of bracken, she heard something coming toward her from behind. Panda barreled past her. Moments later, he held the terrified twelve-year-old by the back of his T-shirt. “Who do we have here?” he said.

  She’d forgotten about Panda and his bodyguard instincts.

  Toby was too terrified to struggle. Panda’s grip on the red T-shirt made it bunch under the boy’s armpits, revealing his bony rib cage and a sizable gap at the waistband of his oversize camouflage shorts. They hung to his knees, his skinny legs jutting out beneath. As annoyed as she was about being spied on, she couldn’t stand the fear in his eyes, and she touched Panda’s arm. “I’ll take care of this.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” he drawled. “The kid looks dangerous.”

  Toby’s literal mind didn’t recognize sarcasm. “I-I-I’m not dangerous.”

  “This is Toby,” she said. “His grandmother is your housekeeper.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Lemme go!” Toby cried. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “That’s not true,” she said as Panda relaxed his hold on the T-shirt. “You’ve been spying on me for days, and I want it to stop.”

  Free of Panda’s grip, Toby got his swagger back along with his belligerence. “I never spied on nobody. My grandma sent me over to make sure you didn’t trash the place.”

  “I’m being policed by a ten-year-old?”

  “Twelve!”

  As she very well knew, but Viper wasn’t as sentimental about kids as Lucy. “You need to find something better to do with your time,” she said.

  The boy jutted his jaw and stared her square in the eye. “I haven’t been spying. You’re lying.”

  Viper looked up at Panda. “Go ahead. Take him out.”

  Chapter Nine

  PANDA LIFTED AN EYEBROW AT her. “Take him out?”

  Toby was a disagreeable little cuss, and she hated being spied on. Still, she couldn’t help but like his spirit. “He’s too much for me,” she said. “It’s the least you can do.”

  Toby stumbled backward in his effort to get away, only to slip on a patch of pine straw and go down hard. He scrambled to his feet and started to take off again, but Panda captured him by the seat of his baggy shorts. “Hold on, kid. This conversation isn’t over.”

  “Let me go, you jerkoff!”

  “Hey! What’s going on here?”

  Lucy turned to see Big Mike Moody approaching on the path, a large pizza box in his hands. She’d forgotten all about her invitation for him to return and annoy Panda. He must have spotted them through the trees.

  “Big Mike!” Toby was back on his feet, still struggling to get away.

  “Trouble here, folks?” The real estate broker flashed his shiny white teeth at Panda. “Nice to see you on the island again. Hope you’re enjoying that house.”

  Panda gave him a brusque nod.

  Big Mike gestured toward the boy with his free hand. “What’s up, Toby? You in trouble? Toby’s a friend of mine. Maybe I can help out here.”

  Toby shot Lucy an enraged glare. “She says I was spying on her. She’s a big liar.”

  Big Mike frowned. “Best you settle down, boy. That’s no way to talk.”

  Lucy stiffened. As annoyed as she was with Toby, she didn’t appreciate hearing him addressed as “boy.” Either Big Mike didn’t know or didn’t care how offensive that appellation was to African American males, regardless of their age. If her brother, Andre, had been around, Big Mike would have gotten a big lesson in racial sensitivity.

  But the offense didn’t appear to have registered with Toby. As Panda freed him, he rushed to Big Mike’s side. “I didn’t do anything. Honest.”

  Big Mike had already transferred the pizza box to his left hand, and he draped his right arm around the kid’s shoulders, undoubtedly transferring his cologne in the process. “Are you sure about that?” Big Mike said. “Miss Viper here seems pretty upset.”

  Panda snorted.

  The way Big Mike was taking her in said he was still trying to place her face. She looked down.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Toby said again.

  Lucy decided wearing a cologne-saturated T-shirt was sufficient punishment for Toby. “I don’t want you spying on me anymore. If it happens again, I’ll talk to your grandmother.”

  Toby screwed up his face. “My grandmother’s not home right now, so you can’t talk to her.”

  Not even a smart-aleck kid could ruffle Big Mike’s amiability. “You know what I think, Toby? I think you owe Miss Viper an apology.”

  She wasn’t a big believer in forced apologies, but Big Mike patted Toby’s shoulder. “Don’t you have something to say to her? Or would you rather wait till she comes to your house?”

  The boy looked at his feet. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  Big Mike nodded, as if Toby had spoken from the depths of his heart. “That’s better. I’ll take Toby home now. He won’t be giving you any more trouble, will you, Toby?”

  Toby scuffed his feet and shook his head.

  “I didn’t think so.” Big Mike still held the pizza, and he extended the box toward Panda. “The two of you go ahead and enjoy this. I can come over and talk to
you later about the boat.”

  “The boat?” Panda said.

  “A twenty-foot Polar Kraft. The owner only took it out one summer, and he’s practically giving it away. Miss Viper told me you were in the market.”

  Panda glanced down at her. “Miss Viper misunderstood.”

  Big Mike knew how to roll with the punches, and his smile grew broader. “She seemed pretty sure, but hey— You have my card. When you’re ready, you give me a ring. That boat’s a real bargain. Now you two enjoy that pizza. Come on, Toby.” He steered the boy along the path in the opposite direction from the house.

  As they disappeared, Panda looked down at her. “You told him I wanted to buy a boat?”

  “You might want to buy a boat. How was I supposed to know?”

  He shook his head and turned toward the house only to stop and lift the box closer to his nose. “Why does this pizza smell like perfume?”

  “Big Mike believes in marking his territory.” She quickened her steps and left Panda to walk back to the house alone.

  BREE HEARD TOBY COMING THROUGH the woods before she saw him. It was almost seven, and once again she’d forgotten to fix him dinner. Usually when that happened, she’d go inside and find him sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal from one of the many boxes Myra had picked up on her last trip to Sam’s Club before she’d gotten too ill to travel to the mainland.

  Bree told herself to get up off the step and do something—anything—other than smoke, stare at Myra’s beehives, and think about those long-ago summers when she and Star ran back and forth like wild things from this cottage to the house. But she didn’t have a lot of bright thoughts to choose from. Her shattered marriage? Nope. Her empty bank account? Definitely not. As for her self-esteem … How could she think about something that didn’t exist?

  This cottage, along with Myra’s honey house, had once been her second home, but in the last three weeks, the place had become her prison. If only she could run to the summer house, curl up on the screen porch with her Walkman again, and listen to the Backstreet Boys while she watched her brothers and their friends race up and down the steps to the dock. David had been one of those beautiful boys that last summer, although during the day he’d worked a fishing charter while the rest of them played.