Dangerous Kiss Page 14

  A sense of inevitability settled in Jake’s stomach. This case had so many twist and turns, this last one just seemed par for the course. Claire looked up at him. Shock and confusion etched on her pretty but bruised face.

  “Claire, let me introduce you to Kendall’s father. This man pointing a Smith and Wesson at us is Charles Burlington.”

  The synapses in Claire’s brain shuttered to a stop. She gaped at Charles Burlington. Why did Kendall’s father have a gun?

  He wore a dark blue suit. Even in the dim light, she could tell the expensive fabric had been tailored to his lean frame. A red tie twisted into a Windsor knot sat snug against his throat. His crisp white shirt showed nary a wrinkle.

  His conservative outfit stood in sharp contrast to the matte-black handgun he pointed at them. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

  “Ms. Layton, I presume?” His tone had an Ivy League snobbish quality to it that spoke of boarding school and ski homes in Vail.

  Her gaze traveled up to his face. Strands of gray streaked through his dark brown hair and hinted at his age, but his forehead remained suspiciously unlined. His lips compressed to form a hard line. Her heart stopped when she looked into his eyes. A determined finality shone out from them.

  Her mouth went dry. She fought to make her tongue function. “Y…yes.”

  “When Kendall informed her mother that she was giving that drug addict three million dollars of my money, we both knew it was only a matter of time. But Kendall was her father’s daughter. I assumed it would end badly for her.”

  The world zoomed in and out of focus. She wanted to puke.

  “You assumed your own daughter would get killed and did nothing to stop it?” Barely restrained outrage trembled in Jake’s voice.

  “I most certainly did not.” Burlington’s face darkened. “She was adopted.”

  Revulsion spread through Claire’s body like a heat wave. The cold-blooded bastard.

  She wanted to tear him apart limb from limb but Jake tugged her closer to his strong bulk.

  “Gun.” His hushed tone brought her attention back to the problem at hand.

  Unable to claw out Burlington’s eyes, she seethed, “You’re a real piece of shit, Burlington.”

  “Women should not use such vulgar language. It is unbecoming of your gender.”

  “Want me to shut her up?”

  Claire started at the goon’s low rumble. For a big man who’d been knocked out cold a few minutes before, he moved with unnerving quiet. He looked as if he’d been shot out of a cannon and was completely pissed off about it. Without thinking, she eliminated any space between her and Jake.

  “No, Mr. Franklin, we’ll deal with Mr. Warrick and Ms. Layton inside.” Burlington tilted his head toward Harvest’s door. “Shall we?”

  She turned to Jake, his features as hard as granite. A vein bulging at his temple was the only give away to his state of mind.

  “Why don’t you lead the way, Franklin?” Jake smirked and stepped back to let the big man go first.

  The giant grunted at Jake’s request.

  “No, Mr. Warrick. You and Ms. Layton go right ahead. Please sit down at a table in the dining room.”

  Fear shook within her. The odds were not in their favor. They were outgunned and vulnerable. She wanted to make a mad dash for it, go with her gut and pull a kamikaze attack. The impulse nearly overwhelmed her, but it would be suicide.

  She had to think, formulate a plan. If she rushed Burlington or the goon, Jake would back her up, but she doubted they could win in this situation. She couldn’t risk getting him killed. He meant too much to her for that.

  With the giant at their backs and a gun aimed at their heads, their only option was to follow orders. Stiff with rage, she strode into the restaurant with Jake by her side.

  She glanced up at him as they crossed the threshold and his mask slipped. For the briefest moment she saw the anger eating away at him, then his iron facade fell back into place. She squeezed his hand.

  They’d come out alive after facing down a gun before. They’d do it again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Do not be an imbecile, Mr. Franklin. Put the gas can away and go get the bag of candles out of the sedan.” Burlington quirked his eyebrows at Jake. “Finding good help is a never-ending endeavor. You really were a promising employee, Mr. Warrick. I dislike having to let you go.”

  “Yeah, I can tell your heart’s breaking.” Jake squeezed his hands into tight fists. Fury burned just underneath his skin and demanded release, preferably by pounding Burlington’s face to a bloody pulp.

  Burlington leveled the Smith and Wesson at Jake. “Tsk, tsk, Mr. Warrick, sarcasm is the sign of an uneducated mind. I thought you were better than that.”

  “Now my heart’s breaking.” Jake stretched his fingers wide and sought out Claire’s hand.

  Her fingers held tight to his larger hand. Leaning his head over until her soft, red hair brushed against the side of his forehead, he inhaled her coconut shampoo. “You antagonize while I figure a way out,” he whispered.

  She squeezed his palm twice in quick succession.

  “You know you won’t get away with this. I’ll hunt you down until you pay for what you let happen to Kendall.” Claire’s voice heaved with indignation.

  Burlington let out a frustrated huff. “My dear Ms. Layton, Kendall was not some poor waif tossed asunder by the cruel world.”

  Jake scanned the dining room for a weapon. The need to protect Claire overwhelmed all of the worries about what could happen to him. He had to figure a way to get her out of here. The hostess stand with its hidden panic alarm stood a good four feet away near the door, with Burlington standing between him and both options. He’d never be able to smash a chair onto Burlington’s head before the man got off a round.

  “No.” Burlington turned the gun so it centered on Claire. “My adoptive daughter brought the end upon herself.”

  “Really? I never knew someone could bludgeon themselves to death and toss their own dead body into a Dumpster,” Claire scoffed.

  Training his gaze forward, Jake covertly swept the table top behind his back with his fingertips, hoping to nab a set of silverware. A steak knife wasn’t his weapon of choice against a Smith and Wesson, but he’d take what he could get right about now. Moving at the speed of a snail to keep his actions a secret from Burlington, he inched his fingers across the polished table. All he touched was wood. Angry at himself at being caught unaware and unprepared for the umpteenth time in the same day, he returned his empty hand to his side.

  “You, Ms. Layton, are an unpleasant woman.”

  “Have you taken a look in the mirror lately? You’re not so awesome yourself.”

  While Claire snarled at Burlington, Jake kept his gaze locked on the gun. Burlington had it pointed in their general direction, but seemed to have forgotten about it. Jake could cut the space between them in three strides.

  “Yeah, I don’t think the father of the year committee has knocked on your door lately, if ever.” Claire lobbed the insult at Burlington like a grenade.

  His face reddened as she continued to mouth off. No doubt about it, she let loose plenty of venom when angry. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of her diatribes. It almost made Jake feel sorry for the son of a bitch. Almost.

  “That is quite enough, Ms. Layton. I believe you have some things that belong to me. Please put the phone and flash drive on the table.”

  “No.” Claire’s chin rose and she slid her hand clutching the devices behind her back.

  “Do not be foolish. Hand over the items and I shall promise not to personally harm you or Mr. Warrick.” He held out his hand toward Claire, empty palm facing upward. “Chop, chop.”

  Jake snorted his disbelief. Burlington couldn’t even arrange his face into a pretense of innocence. The attempt at humble innocence made him look deranged.

  The goon, Franklin, rumbled back into the restaurant. Plastic grocery bags crin
kled in each of his large hands. He paused in the doorway and light from the parking lot outlined his roided-out body. Time had run out. Jake tamped down the adrenaline spiking his blood. He had to remain calm and in control if they were going to make it out alive.

  Franklin lifted a bag. “So, where you want ’em?”

  “The table is fine for right now. You have the needles?”

  His stomach tightened. Needles were not a good sign. Jake saw the color drain out of Claire’s face. He smiled down at her and hoped she didn’t notice the worry eating a hole into his gut.

  A burst of cinnamon apple infiltrated the room. Jake guessed it originated from the bags Franklin had dropped onto a nearby table.

  Burlington’s gun hand twitched. The slight movement provided a tell-tale sign that someone wasn’t as comfortable with a handgun as he wanted them to believe. The idea made Jake curl his lip in a smirk; finding a chink in someone’s armor always made him happy.

  “Your silence does not bode well for your answer, Mr. Franklin.” Burlington tapped his foot impatiently. “Where are the needles?”

  “In the car.” The big man kept his eyes on the floor.

  Burlington pursed his lips and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. His jaw went rigid.

  Jake’s spirits rose. Finally, something was going their way. If Burlington blew up at his bodyguard, Jake had to be ready to take advantage of the situation. He dropped Claire’s hand and moved a half step in front of her. His arms hung loose at his sides.

  Burlington turned his gaze toward Jake and the hairs on his neck spiked. One false move and this would go south real quick. He had to get Claire out of here.

  “Mr. Franklin, this type of negligence will not be tolerated. If you cannot improve yourself, you will not be accompanying Mrs. Burlington and me to South America. Get the needles now!” Red spots of frustration dotted his cheeks.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Without another word, the thug shuffled out into the parking lot.

  Burlington swiveled the gun back to Claire. “My patience has grown thin, Ms. Layton. Put the phone and the flash drive on the table.”

  Claire hurled the devices at their tormentor. They flew by Burlington’s head, missing him by at least a foot, and bounced off a round dining table.

  Quick as a snake, Burlington fired a bullet into the hardwood floor. The wood cracked beside her feet.

  Claire screamed as she jumped into the air.

  Fear grabbed Jake’s heart and squeezed. Her scream vibrated inside his head. Panicked, he shoved her shaking body behind him, primed to launch himself at Burlington.

  “You look quite savage, Mr. Warrick. I suggest you not act out the violent fantasy playing in your head.” He cocked the gun. “As for you, Ms. Layton, if you knew the women in my life, you would know that I am quite practiced at dodging missiles.” He shrugged his shoulders as if the entire situation was all too common for him. “Take a seat, both of you.”

  Clair huffed behind him and flopped down into a chair. “Bastard.”

  Jake eased into the seat next to her, on the lookout for an opportunity to at least get her out of here. He didn’t mind taking his chances, but he wouldn’t risk her life for a bit of evidence.

  Franklin trotted back in, his face flushed. The goon must not be used to running in the summer heat. Either that or his head still ached from the omelet pan Jake had cracked against the big man’s skull.

  The giant clasped a small envelope-sized black case in one gargantuan fist. “The needles.”

  “Put the needles on the table, Mr. Franklin, then go stand next to Ms. Layton. We don’t want Mr. Warrick to forget what is at stake here.”

  Claire flinched when Franklin moved beside her, cigar smoke and sweat floating like an invisible cloud around him. The asshole chuckled.

  Shame and anger boiled in Jake’s veins. Some fucking protector he’d turned out to be. How could he let her down like this? They were stuck between a breathing rock and Burlington’s Smith and Wesson.

  Burlington reached into his pocket with his free hand and drew out two zip-ties.

  “Shit,” Clair said under her breath.

  “There is no need to whisper, Ms. Layton. I am rather impressed with these pragmatic items.” His lips twisted in wry amusement. “I admire its unassuming efficiency. Too often my colleagues get wrapped up in convoluted schemes to defraud their clients, showy actions that land them in jail. Simplicity is the key to a successful scheme. Whether it is little old ladies, pension managers or small-town police officers, give them a plausible and easily understood explanation for cash losses and they will accept it.”

  Fuck. Sweat slid down Jake’s spine as dread solidified in his belly. Burlington had no plans to leave them tied up while he split.

  “Ah, I see understanding dawning in your eyes, Mr. Warrick. When you quit, the answer to why was obvious. You had the flash drive and were planning to use the information to access the three million dollars yourself. No one walks away with my money. No one.”

  “That’s not true, not everyone is as big of a crook as you are. Anyway, the flash drive is incidental, worthless to anyone but you.” If Jake could keep Burlington talking, he could increase their chances for survival.

  “That is where you are woefully ignorant. The Cayman Islands bank account codes on the flash drive will give anyone access to my funds.” Burlington shrugged his shoulders.

  “The money you stole from the little old ladies and pension funds?” Claire’s soft words hung heavy in the air.

  He marveled at the innocent curiosity in her voice. She might not know his plan’s details, but she played along as if she never doubted it would work.

  “Of course not.” Burlington’s voice rose an octave. His jaw tightened and he took a menacing step forward. Then, as if recalling himself, he released a quick breath and smoothed his expression into a mask of superiority. “Stealing is a repugnant activity. I paid myself a bonus percentage of the market profits they wouldn’t have gotten without me.”

  “That’s a one-way ticket to prison.” Jake would enjoy seeing this weasel in an orange jumpsuit.

  “Only if the police find out about it, which is why Kendall had to be silenced.” He jerked his head in a firm nod.

  “She was blackmailing you.” The pieces came together in Jake’s head. The money manager had been adamant the phone not fall into anyone’s hands but his.

  “Yes.” Burlington shook his head. “It is extremely distasteful to discover the child you reared and sent to the finest boarding schools would stoop to something as low-class as extortion.” Burlington sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “She had extraordinary technical skills and hacked into my accounts. She downloaded everything she needed to try to bleed me dry.”

  “That’s why you let Darcy kill her?” Jake asked.

  The zip-ties rested in Burlington’s hand. The gun pointed to the floor. Burlington was caught up in telling his tale.

  “Termination was not a part of the original plan, but there is little in this world that Mr. Darcy cannot mess up. We had hoped Kendall would give him the flash drive and phone as she had promised him. Then, Mr. Franklin would take care of him and return the items to me. Neither of us realized just how far Mr. Darcy’s methamphetamine paranoia had progressed.”

  If Jake took a run at Burlington, Franklin would try to save his boss, leaving Claire free to escape. As far as plans went, it wasn’t a great one. But he didn’t have time to come up with anything better. They needed to act now.

  He straightened up in his seat, adrenaline pumped through his body. He doubted he’d make it out alive, but he’d go down saving her. A fair trade.

  He forced his breathing to slow. Kept his sights on Burlington. Tracked Franklin out of the corner of his eye. His body was primed and ready to take action.

  “It was a simple plan. The only difficulty was keeping the truth from my wife, who I doubt would be pleased, even if it was necessary. Charlotte is more than my wife; she is my partn
er, my soul mate. Why, just thinking of her makes me anxious to move forward with this endeavor so we can be together again on the beaches of Brazil, enjoying our millions.” He took a step forward. “Mr. Franklin, if you will be so kind as to restrain Ms. Layton. I do believe Mr. Warrick will be more cooperative if his lady love is…how shall I put it…effectively detained.”

  Claire gasped and dropped Jake’s hand, drawing his attention away from Burlington. In the dim light, he couldn’t make out her features exactly, but he didn’t need to. The image of her storming into Harvest’s bar a few days ago, her temper running at full steam, was enough.

  He hadn’t come to Dry Creek looking for the woman of his dreams, but he’d found her anyway. A redheaded firecracker with a smart mouth, a fast brain and a body that had him praying for X-ray vision. If he died saving her, she needed to understand the sacrifice was worth it to him. Grasping her face in his hands, he lowered his lips to hers.

  A powerful hand pulled against his shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh, but Jake refused to be torn away from Claire.

  “No, Mr. Franklin, let us allow them this moment. Our social mores demand that every condemned person be granted one last request. This is theirs.”

  Burlington’s words danced on the edge of Jake’s consciousness. His focus centered on Claire. He put everything he wanted to say into that kiss. From the moment he’d tapped her on the nose, he knew he’d never be the same. He’d been bewitched by her fiery hair and luscious curves. She’d captivated him with her stubbornness and passion. Her sarcastic, quick wit had mesmerized him. She was his warrior pixie.

  “I love you, Claire Layton.”

  Her dazed look sharpened. It morphed from understanding to horror.

  In one fluid movement, he stood and jammed a finger into Franklin’s eye socket.

  The big man howled in pain and slapped his hand over the injured orb. Jake whipped around, pulling Claire up. “Run.”

  She hesitated. Fearing she’d die by his side, he swung her by the arm and catapulted her past Burlington.