Green Beret Bodyguard Page 13

  She slid a glance at his stern profile. He apparently had regrets about making love to her last night, too. He’d been downright standoffish after breakfast, modest even.

  She sniffed. Too late for that.

  “Here it is.” She parked in a small parking lot on the side of a low-slung green stucco building, which housed a clinic on one side and Gabe’s lab on the other.

  “Doesn’t look like much.” Jack squinted out the window, shielding his eyes against the hazy, wintry sun. Almost Christmas and the Florida sun shined on.

  “It’s just the two of them most of the time. They’re not associated with a hospital. They run on private grants and Daddy’s money.” Lola grabbed her purse and turned in her seat. “Let me go in by myself first. Once I convince Cain to give me access to Gabe’s computer, I’ll come and get you.”

  “Are you going through that door?” He leveled a finger at the side door.

  “Yes.”

  “No other access to the lab?”

  “No.” Her heart skipped a beat as she watched him retrieve his gun from under the seat and slip it into the pocket of his jacket. “It’s broad daylight, Jack.”

  “You were in the middle of a busy hospital yesterday.”

  “Okay, I get it.”

  By the time she was jiggling the handle of the door, Jack had stationed himself outside the car, leaning against it with his hand in his pocket.

  She dangled her key chain in the air. “It’s locked but I have a key. Cain’s probably busy in the lab.”

  She slid the key into the lock and waved at Jack before slipping into the building. A flickering fluorescent light in the hallway illuminated the way to the back offices. “Hello?”

  If Cain wasn’t here, she’d try to access Gabe’s computer herself, not that she’d know what do with his formula. She crept down the hallway, her breath coming out in short puffs.

  She peered through the large square of glass into the lab, filled with high-powered microscopes, Petri dishes, test tubes and computers whirring through data. But Gabe had sent her the password to his personal computer, not the lab computers.

  She continued to Gabe’s office, the last door on the right. Twisting the knob, she pushed open the door. The smell of rotting meat invaded her nostrils. She gagged.

  Fear seized every muscle in her body. She knew that smell. It was the odor of death.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lola staggered out the front door, pressing a hand over her nose and mouth. When she hit the fresh air, she dragged in breath after breath, exhaling the foul odor that clung to the passages of her sinus system.

  Jack sprang off the hood of the car, drawing his weapon as he reached her with his long stride. “What happened?”

  “He’s dead. Cain’s dead.”

  Shaking his head, Jack reached for the door, and Lola clamped a hand on his wrist. “It’s not pretty, Jack. Judging by the condition of the body, especially given the cool temperature of the room, he’s been there for a few days.”

  “You examined the body? What was the cause of death?”

  “A quick look—that’s all I could handle of the smell. I don’t know the cause of death, but he met with violence. The blood tells that story. Gabe’s office is trashed, his computer damaged.”

  Jack cursed. “How did they know? How did they know about the lab, about Cain?”

  “About me?” Lola gritted her teeth against another wave of nausea that threatened to claim her.

  “We need to get that computer. Before we call the cops, we need to get Gabe’s computer out of there, or you won’t see it again for months.”

  A couple of nurses walked around the corner from the clinic, heading for a car in the parking lot. Lola flashed a smile at Jack and said, “Can we act normal for a few minutes? I don’t want to cause a scene.”

  Jack glanced to the side. “They’re getting in their car.” He peered at the eaves of the roof.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Is this building monitored by cameras?”

  “Not that I know of. Do you see anything?”

  “No. Let me back into the building, and I’ll get your brother’s computer. And I’m going to need gloves. I’m not leaving any prints.”

  “W-we’re not going to be here when the police arrive, are we?”

  “No. Why wasn’t this discovered already? Doesn’t Cain have a family?”

  “Not here. He’s the ultimate mad-scientist type. Eats, breathes and lives his research…or at least he did. It’s not hard to imagine he wasn’t missed for a few days.”

  “Unlock the door and keep watch out here. Are there gloves inside?”

  “There should be a box of gloves in the lab.”

  “And where’s Gabe’s computer?”

  “His office—the same place as Cain’s body. It’s the last door on your right as you head down the hallway. Cain’s on the floor of the office. Be careful. He’s…it’s messy.”

  Jack grimaced, and Lola unlocked the door for him. If the cops discovered her fingerprints in the lab it wouldn’t much matter, since she’d been here before, but she used the hem of her shirt to wipe off the door handle, anyway.

  Jack disappeared inside, and Lola lined up her spine against the door as if guarding it. Nobody came to the lab, anyway, except to make deliveries. Her gaze kept darting toward the corner of the building in case any more people wandered over from the clinic. Hadn’t they noticed anything? Smelled anything? Of course, she hadn’t until she’d opened the door of the office.

  In less time than she expected, Jack barreled out of the lab, hugging a battered CPU to his chest. “Let’s go.”

  Lola clicked open her trunk, and Jack tossed the computer in the back. Then they both hopped in the car.

  “How are we going to report the murder?”

  “Anonymously, if we can ever find a phone booth, and one where there’s no camera watching.”

  They found a phone booth that matched their requirements, and Jack laid on a heavy Southern drawl, pretending to be a concerned delivery man.

  Back in the car, Lola gripped the steering wheel and stared at the white lines of the road rushing past. “I can’t believe someone murdered Cain. The people who kidnapped Gabe must’ve believed Cain had knowledge of the formula, too.”

  “I almost feel as if we’re leading them to all their next victims.”

  Lola’s gaze shot to the rearview mirror. “But we’re not being followed. You make sure of that every time.”

  “How well did you know Cain?”

  “Not well at all. The guy’s a robot.”

  “How long has your brother worked with him?”

  “A few years. Why all the interest in Cain?”

  “He could be in on it. He could’ve double-crossed your brother.”

  “I’d hate to be thinking the worst of everyone all the time.”

  “Not all the time.” Jack squeezed her shoulder. “I trusted you, didn’t I?”

  Pressing her cheek briefly against the hand on her shoulder, she said, “And I trust you.”

  “Are you feeling okay now? I thought you doctors would be immune to the sights and smells of death.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “We worked with cadavers in medical school, but they were in pristine condition—nothing like that. The blood, the guts—those don’t bother me. It’s the smell.”

  His fingers reached up and he tugged her earlobe. “I’m sorry. Let’s get that CPU back to your place and you can shower if that’ll help.”

  She shivered and hunched her shoulders. “It might. That odor—” she ran her tongue along her teeth “—gets in your mouth.”

  She made it back to the house without vomiting and left Jack with Gabe’s computer while she took a shower and changed clothes. Did the people who murdered Cain and trashed Gabe’s office realize Gabe had the formula for the vaccine on his computer? Or had they been taking stabs in the dark, hoping to get lucky with Gabe’s research partner?

  She jo
gged downstairs in a freshly laundered pair of jeans and a gallon of perfume liberally applied to her wrists, throat and temples. Plopping down in a kitchen chair, she frowned at Gabe’s open computer, its contents spilling on the kitchen table like guts.

  She swallowed. Would she ever get the image of Cain’s decomposing body out of her mind?

  Jack waved at the air in front of his face. “You smell like a department-store cosmetics counter.”

  “It beats bodily fluids.” She tapped the table. “Any luck?”

  “Whatever my expertise in my former life, it didn’t include computer repair. We’ll need to take it in, but I think the hard drive is intact. Some savvy computer geek should be able to transfer anything on it to another computer.”

  “Do we turn over the formula to the CIA? Do you think that would save Gabe…and you?”

  “Me?”

  “Your name is on some international watch list because somebody somewhere thinks you’re a traitor. If you cough up this formula, they’ll have to think twice about that, right?”

  Jack slumped in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe they think I’m a traitor because I am.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know what I did or didn’t do in Afghanistan, Lola. Maybe I didn’t rescue Gabe because I made a deal with the terrorists who have him. You don’t know me. Hell, I don’t know me.”

  “You’re wrong, Jack.” She slammed her fist on the table, sending a piece from the computer scuttling off the edge. “I know you’re a decent man. A man who’s risking his own safety and well-being to protect me, a stranger, until a few days ago.”

  He laughed, a hard sound that rained down like pebbles. “Everyone was a stranger to me until a few days ago. I’m risking your safety by dragging you around on this hopeless mission to find myself. And I had no business making love to you. I couldn’t even control that.”

  It was her turn to laugh and she let loose until she was wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. “Yeah, and I controlled myself so much better. I wanted you as much as you wanted me, Jack. Still do.”

  That got his attention. His dark eyes smoldered like two hot coals. “I don’t want to hurt you. It’s not only the possibility of a wife and family. I could be someone…bad.”

  “I know bad.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder. “And you’re not bad, Jack Coburn.”

  “Then why has the U.S. Government put a black mark next to my name?”

  She tucked her hands beneath her thighs to stop them from fluttering over him, cosseting him, comforting him. Jack didn’t like that. “It’s a misunderstanding. Or someone framed you.”

  “You have a lot of faith in me, Lola.”

  “You saved my life at the hospital. What better confirmation could a girl ask for?”

  Her cell phone rang and she reached for her purse hanging over the back of the chair. She plucked the phone from the side pocket of her purse, glanced at the display and said to Jack, “Hospital.

  “Hello?”

  “Dr. Famosa, this is Geri Holbrook. I’m a nurse in ICU.”

  “Yes?” Lola hit the button to put her cell on speaker.

  “I wanted to let you know that Emilio Diaz regained consciousness last night, and he’s been asking for you.”

  “Can I see him this afternoon?”

  “Yes. I can get you in.”

  “Thanks, Geri. I’ll be there within an hour.”

  Lola ended the call and tapped the phone against her chin. “Looks like we may be a little closer to finding out if Jack Coburn has been bad or good—just in time for Christmas.”

  AFTER THEY DROPPED OFF Gabe’s computer to have the files on his hard drive copied to another computer’s hard drive, Jack slid into the leather passenger seat in Lola’s Mercedes. He snapped on his seat belt and drummed the dashboard as Lola started the car.

  He hated being a passenger. He hated being an observer. And now he had to sit back and listen to another man give him back a piece of his life.

  “Will Lesley be at the hospital today? I want to see her again and build on what Diaz tells me.”

  “She should be.” Lola hit the steering wheel with the heel of her hand when her cell phone went off again.

  “Do you want the call?” Jack reached for her phone, which was tucked into her purse on the floor at his feet.

  “I’m a doctor. I always have to take my calls, even when I’m on vacation.”

  “Some vacation.” Jack grimaced as he picked up the call and put the phone on speaker.

  “Hello?”

  “May I please speak to Dr. Lola Famosa?”

  The authoritative male voice filled the car, and Jack’s fingers tightened around the phone as he held it up for Lola.

  Lola glanced at Jack beneath a furrowed brow. “This is Dr. Famosa.”

  “Dr. Famosa, this is Detective Ray Sorrento of the Miami-Dade Police Department. Do you know a Mr. Cain Barnett?”

  Lola removed a hand from the steering wheel and wiped her palm on the thigh of her jeans before answering. “Yes. Mr. Barnett is my brother’s research partner.”

  Jack held his breath. They’d both known this call was coming. Could Lola pull it off?

  “I’m sorry to inform you, Dr. Famosa, that Mr. Barnett was murdered a few days ago.”

  Lola gasped and the noisy breath sounded real, as if she’d forgotten their grisly discovery a few hours ago.

  “M-murdered?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry. Did you know him well?”

  “No, no I didn’t. My brother is currently out of the country.”

  “We know that. We dropped by your place to tell you, but…”

  “I’m actually staying at my brother’s house while he’s away.”

  “We’d like to sit down with you, Dr. Famosa. We have a few questions for you regarding Mr. Barnett.”

  Lola’s jaw dropped open, and then she mouthed the words, Now what?

  Jack nodded his head. Lola had nothing to hide, other than the fact that she’d discovered the body and absconded with her brother’s computer. Small potatoes.

  “Sure, Detective Sorrento. I’m on my way to the hospital right now, though.”

  “Which hospital?”

  “Miami Hope.” She rolled her eyes at Jack.

  “That’s not far from the station. Can you come in when you’re done at the hospital?”

  “Of course.”

  The detective gave Lola the address and his direct number, which he wanted her to call before arriving at the station.

  When Jack pressed the button to end the call, Lola slumped in her seat. “He was persistent.”

  “They found your fingerprints.”

  Bolting upright in the driver’s seat, she cursed like a sailor…a Spanish sailor. “But I can explain my presence there. I’d been to the lab before with Gabe.”

  “Stick to that. You’ll be fine.”

  She wheeled into the hospital’s parking garage and shoved her parking card into the slot. The red-and-white-striped arm rose. “One crisis at a time. Let’s see what Emilio has to say.”

  Jack followed Lola’s white-coat-clad figure down the hallway, past oblong windows framing bedridden patients hooked up to a variety of machines. He hoped Diaz was in better shape than those people.

  Lola stopped at the door of a private room and slipped inside, beckoning Jack to follow her. She held her finger to her lips and crept toward the bed. “Emilio?”

  Diaz opened one eye and licked his lips. “Lola.”

  “How do you feel?” She dragged a plastic chair to his bedside, and Jack hung back in the corner.

  He took her hand in a clawlike grasp and whispered. “Where’s Coburn?”

  Jack took a step forward. “I’m here.”

  Diaz nodded. “Come.”

  Jack hunched over the bed, his ear close to the older man’s lips.

  “Have you remembered anything yet?”

  “Not much. I was in the Army
Special Forces, recruited for a covert ops team, worked closely with a few guys, retired and went into business for myself.”

  Diaz’s eyes narrowed to slits and Jack thought he had fallen asleep, but then Diaz’s chest expanded and his voice rasped through dry lips. “You were the best. I’d heard about you from a colleague. You’d rescued a family member of his from a drug cartel in Colombia.”

  Jack cocked his head. “I negotiated his release?”

  Diaz’s lips stretched tightly. “I don’t think there was much negotiation involved, but you got him out…your way.”

  Jack’s heart thumped in his chest. How much could Diaz tell him? “This colleague, you got my contact information from him?”

  “A phone number. I was ordered not to give you that number, Lola. Instead, I called Jack directly and gave him your number.”

  Lola pressed her lips into a thin line. “Yes, and Jack contacted me. I did use the number he’d left to call him again but after he’d gone to Afghanistan it no longer worked.”

  Diaz tugged at Lola’s sleeve. “Get my phone.”

  Lola reached across Diaz’s chest for the cell phone on the tray. “Jack’s original number is in your contacts?”

  “Under JC. Look it up.” He grimaced at his right hand wrapped in bandages. “You never know when you’re going to need the services of a man like Jack.”

  Lola transferred the phone number from Diaz’s cell to her own and peered at Jack over the display. “The area code’s three-one-oh. That’s L.A., Jack.”

  “Makes sense.” He’d gone to Stanford. He must be a California boy. He was a long way from home.

  He shifted his attention back to Diaz. “When you called, did you get me directly or did you have to go through another party?”

  “I left you a message. You returned my call. I gave you Lola’s information.” Diaz closed his eyes again, wiping his mouth with the back of his unbandaged hand.

  Jack couldn’t lose him yet. “And what did you hear after I’d gone out to find Dr. Gabriel Famosa? When we walked into your office that day, you thought I was a ghost.”

  Diaz squeezed his eyes once and then peeled them open. “I’d heard you were dead—right after I’d heard you rescued Gabe only to kidnap him yourself.”