Green Beret Bodyguard Read online

  “An associate of my father’s. He’d heard about you from others in the Cuban community.”

  “You’d obviously never met me, since you didn’t recognize me in your car.”

  “Never met you. Sent a few emails to an address with one of those free providers. Spoke to you once when we finalized the details of the payment. After you left, neither the email address nor the cell phone number were active anymore. I tried both.”

  His brows shot up and a light infused his dark eyes. “Do you still have the emails? Maybe we can trace them somehow.” He slumped back in his seat. “I guess my knowledge of languages and weapons far outpaces my knowledge of computers, since I don’t have a clue how we’d go about doing that, especially with a now-defunct address.”

  “We?” she thought. Did he just say “we”? She still needed to find Gabe, find a way to get him back home, but she didn’t want to sign up to help Jack Coburn find himself. Down that path lay danger, an abyss of unknown feelings and complications.

  “How long ago did all this take place?”

  “At the beginning of the summer, so about six months ago. You went out to Afghanistan in July.”

  Jack whistled.

  “How did you get out? That must’ve been some fall if you hit your head and lost your memory. Are you injured…I mean physically?”

  “I’m sore, bruised, scuffed up, but all parts are in working order…except my mind.”

  She wouldn’t mind testing out the working order of a few of his parts. She put her hand over her mouth just in case the booze loosened her tongue. “How’d you get out of the country?”

  “What?”

  She slid the hand from her mouth and dropped it in her lap, ready to bring it back into service if those naughty thoughts about Jack Coburn clouded her brain again. “How did you leave the country?”

  “With the help of this black bag—” he patted the duffel squeezed into the banquette beside him “—and a boy named Yasir.”

  “Another round, Lolita?” Carlos called from behind the bar.

  She lifted an inquiring brow at Jack, but he held up his hands as if he couldn’t take any more when he hadn’t even knocked back his tequila. “No más, Carlos. Just the check, por favor.”

  Shifting her gaze back to Jack, she asked, “Anything in that black bag about my brother?”

  “I’m sorry, no.”

  Her nose tingled and tears pricked the back of her eyes. When she hadn’t heard from Jack after several months, she’d hoped it meant progress. How could she ever hope to get Gabe home now after she’d pinned all her expectations on this damaged man sitting across from her?

  She dropped her lashes and then jerked back, her lids flying open, when the pads of Jack’s fingers brushed her cheek. His fingertips glistened with her tears, and she mopped her face with a damp cocktail napkin.

  She blew her nose with the napkin and crumpled it in her fist. “Sorry. You came here with me to find out about yourself, and I’m laying a guilt trip on you.”

  He cocked his head. “I don’t feel guilty. Why should I? I may have information about your brother buried in my brain somewhere. It’s not within my grasp right now.”

  “I can put you in touch with the man who referred you to me. Maybe he even knows you. He didn’t cop to that when he suggested I engage your services, but maybe he wanted to be discreet.”

  “That’s a start. Do you know where I live?” His lips quirked at the absurdity of the question.

  “I don’t. Like I said, we exchanged some emails and a phone call. You never gave me your address. I left the money in a locker at a bus depot. Everything was very hush-hush.” She shoved the glasses out of her way and folded her arms on the table. “Where are you staying?”

  “Little motel near the water. I like the water…and books. I like books.” He closed his almost ebony eyes and massaged his temples.

  Her heart skittered in her chest. “Do you remember things?”

  “I have flashes sometimes. Headaches.” He shrugged. “I probably need a good psychiatrist or neurologist. Too bad you’re a pediatrician.”

  “I know a good psychiatrist, and she uses hypnosis. Would you be willing to talk to her?”

  “Maybe, but I’d like to talk to the man who set us up first.”

  “I’ll call him tomorrow.” Lola dug into her purse for her wallet, but Jack flipped a few bills onto the table before she could find it. She shoved them back. “You shouldn’t be tossing your money around, since I’m sure you don’t have much of it.”

  He pointed to the black bag. “I have a lot of money, but it probably belongs to you.”

  “Oh, no. I paid you that money for taking the job and going to Afghanistan. For all we know, you earned it already. You should at least keep it as compensation for losing your memory. What do you think? A million bucks for a man’s mind?”

  “Depends on the mind.”

  Shouts from outside the bar cascaded through the open window. Jack jumped to his feet, reaching into his jacket, probably for the weapon Lola still had stashed in her purse.

  The man was definitely on edge.

  Mario’s bartender, David, scuttled from behind the bar, a white cloth in one hand and a Louisville Slugger in the other. “What was that? Mario went out back to take out the trash a while ago. That was his voice.”

  Lola half rose from the booth when Mario himself staggered through the front door of the bar, his face bloodied and his shirt ripped.

  Gasping, Lola rushed to his side as he dropped to his knees. “What happened?”

  Mario clutched his side and groaned. “Somebody just tried to break into your car.”

  Chapter Three

  Jack’s blood thumped through his veins as he strode toward the open door of the bar. His fingers twitched. He felt naked without a weapon in his hand.

  “Don’t bother. He’s long gone.” Mario, crumpled on the floor, waved a bloodstained hand. “He ran off after we mixed it up, the cabrón.”

  David hooked his arms beneath Mario’s and dragged him to a chair. “What happened, boss?”

  Mario winced as Lola dabbed the split above his eye with a damp cloth. “I was taking the trash out to the Dumpster in the alley and heard a noise out front. When I looked around the corner of the building, I saw some guy lurking around Lola’s car. I confronted him and the dude fought back.”

  “Who looks worse, boss?” David sniggered.

  Lola sent him a chilly stare. “David, make yourself useful and call 911.”

  Mario sputtered the one syllable that roared through Jack’s head. “No!”

  Lola’s hand froze, and she frowned at Mario. “Why not?”

  “I don’t want any trouble, Lolita. I don’t want any cops at the bar. It’s bad for business. You can check, but the guy didn’t damage your car.”

  “Yeah, but shouldn’t…” Her voice trailed off when her gaze collided with Jack’s.

  He gave a slight shake of his head. The last thing he needed was a bunch of cops asking questions when he had a bag full of cash and Lola had his gun in her purse.

  “Okay, okay, but are you hurt?”

  “This?” Mario framed his face with his battered hands. “Bloody nose, cut over my eye and a few bruised knuckles. You’re a doctor. Fix me up.”

  Rolling her eyes, she asked David to fetch a first-aid kit, and then set about patching up Mario. When she finished cleaning and bandaging his wounds she returned to the booth where Jack lounged, one hand on his duffel bag. Lola leveled a finger at the shot glass still brimming with tequila. “You drinking this?”

  Jack rapped his knuckles on the table. “It’s all yours.”

  Lola put the glass to her mouth and swallowed the shot. Then she placed a lime wedge between her plump lips and squeezed, her face contorting for a second at the tartness.

  A slow burn traveled through Jack’s core as if he’d tossed back the tequila himself. It was about the sexiest damned thing he’d seen since…well, since the last time s
he’d sucked that lime.

  Pinching the glasses between her fingers, she said, “I’ll give you a ride back to your hotel. Are you sure you’re okay, Mario?”

  “I’m fine.” He tapped the bandage over his eye. “Thanks for the doctoring.”

  As Jack held the door open for Lola, she tripped on the step to the sidewalk and he grabbed her elbow. “Careful.”

  She shrugged him off and took a turn around her car. “Everything looks okay.”

  “Anything like that happen here before?” Folding his arms, Jack wedged a hip on the trunk of her Mercedes. She hadn’t seemed to link the attempted break-in of her car to his presence. Could it just be a coincidence?

  “Not to me personally, but I told you the neighborhood wasn’t too safe.”

  She grabbed the handle of the driver’s-side door, and Jack placed his hand over hers. “I’m driving.”

  A spark lit her hazel eyes, not quite green, not quite brown. “You don’t even have a driver’s license.”

  “Actually, I do have a driver’s license, but more importantly, I haven’t had a full beer and two shots of tequila.”

  “I can hold my booze.” She giggled, belying her words.

  He held out his hand. “Maybe, but you’ve had a rough day, and I’ve had a rough day, and I’m not up for a negotiation.”

  Stepping back, she took his measure, her gaze traveling the length of his body and settling on his face. She dropped the keys in his palm. “You win.”

  Her inventory of his body had heated his blood, had made him feel more alive than he’d felt since he’d climbed down from that mountain in Afghanistan. He hadn’t forgotten the fire that could ignite between a man and a woman. Thank God.

  He accompanied her to the other side of the car and opened the door for her. When he dropped in the driver’s seat and locked the doors, he turned to her. “Give me my gun.”

  “Planning on using it?”

  “You just said this was a lousy neighborhood.”

  She unzipped her large handbag, grasped the barrel of his .45 and handed the butt to him. A woman who knew her way around a weapon.

  He fished some bullets out of his inside pocket, loaded the gun and slid it under the seat. “What are you doing hanging out in a joint like this, anyway?”

  “I like it, and I like Mario. I figure I owe him.” She flipped down the visor and swept a layer of gloss across her lips.

  Was she trying to drive him crazy with that mouth?

  Jack coughed and shifted into reverse. “Why do you owe Mario?”

  “My father was responsible for his father’s death.”

  He nearly sideswiped a car. “What?”

  Lola held out her hand, showing him her palm. “Long story, not going there.”

  “Gotcha. Where to?”

  “Make a right at the corner, and then stay left. You’re going to take the freeway ramp heading south.”

  He followed her directions, the only words out of her mouth on the drive to her place. Lola seemed to regret spilling that piece of information about her father, not that Jack had any right to pry. But her life seemed as complicated as his own right now.

  With the lights of South Beach beaming several blocks to the west, Lola directed him to a pink Art Deco building bordered by towering palm trees.

  When he pulled into her parking space in the underground garage, she turned to him. “How are you going to get back to your motel?”

  He shrugged. “How I’ve been getting around all along— bus, foot, taxi.”

  “You didn’t rent a car with all the cash you have?” Her low voice in the darkness of the car sounded seductive, even saying the most mundane words.

  “You still need to leave a credit card when you rent a car, and I don’t want to produce a trail.”

  She tossed her dark ponytail over her shoulder. “Why don’t you come up? I can give you the name of my father’s associate—the one who recommended you.”

  Should he? If he sank into her pink-frosted building, maybe he’d never want to leave. Never want to face what awaited him when his memory returned. What if he had a wife? Children?

  “Sure.” He cut the engine.

  As Jack followed her to the elevator, he watched the sway of her hips in her tight jeans. She moved like a temptress even in those canvas Vans she wore on her feet. Not the typical uniform for a doctor, but she hadn’t been on duty. He knew her schedule.

  She jabbed the elevator call button with her knuckle, and they watched for the orange arrow to move down the floors. Tapping her toe, Lola sighed. “This elevator takes forever.”

  When it arrived they stepped inside, and Jack leaned against the back wall, crossing his arms. “You were off duty today, weren’t you?”

  “And you’ve been following me around too long.” She punched the fourth-floor button until he thought her finger would fall off.

  “Why were you at the hospital if you weren’t working?”

  “Special patient.” Her eyes clouded, shifting to brown.

  “Since you see kids, there must be a lot of those.”

  She nodded, sealing her lips into a thin line.

  He didn’t blame her for clamming up about her little patients. It had to be tough taking care of sick kids, but it was obviously a vocation she embraced—just like shelling out millions to rescue her brother or patronizing a bar out of some sense of remorse or duty.

  And what about him? He apparently had a very dangerous career rescuing people he didn’t even know.

  Lola slid her key into a dead bolt and then shoved it into the door handle, twisting it to the right. She pushed open the door into a dimly lit room and slapped the wall to turn on a set of recessed lights.

  The room came to life in a riot of bright colors and varied textures. If the outside of the building was like pink frosting on a cake, this room occupied the center of that cake—a burst of flavor, delicious and inviting.

  Lola tossed her handbag onto a floral couch, and the leaves of an exotic-looking plant shivered and bobbed. Bunches of flowers scattered about the room emitted a swirl of sweet fragrance. Slashes of modern art shared wall space with Cuban street scenes and landscapes.

  Jack stood in the center of the room and turned slowly, taking it all in. This room could only belong to a woman named Lola Famosa.

  A breathy laugh escaped her lips. “Do you find it a bit overwhelming? I had to take a few pieces from my folks’ place in Gables Estates, especially after Gabe…left.”

  Jack shoved his hands in his pockets. “This room has the variety and lushness of a rain forest, without the monkeys.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that. Do you want something to drink? Water?”

  “Water’s good.”

  She crooked her finger, and he followed her into the kitchen. The onslaught of colors continued in this room with blue-and-yellow tiles charging across the counters and multicolored dishes lining glass cabinets.

  She poured two glasses of water from a bottle in the fridge and slid his across the counter. At least she’d kept a lid on the tequila.

  He downed half the water, and when he came up for air he met a glance from slivered eyes—brownish this time. Lola sipped her water carefully and dabbed her lips with her fingertips. “So do you think that attempted car theft was random?”

  The same thought had crossed her mind. Might as well play devil’s advocate. “You said it was a bad neighborhood, nice car like yours…awfully tempting.”

  “I’ve parked there before. Mario’s known in the neighborhood for having a bad temper…and a .357 Magnum.”

  “Maybe this particular thief didn’t know about Mario, his temper or his .357.”

  “Maybe.” She clicked her water glass on the countertop. “Do you want Emilio’s number?”

  “Emilio?”

  “Emilio Diaz, my father’s associate. Name doesn’t ring a bell, huh?” She pulled open a kitchen drawer and sifted through its contents.

  “Nothing’s ringing any bells.�
�� Except Lola’s derrière in those jeans as she bent over the drawer. That rang his bells.

  She spun around, pinching a card between two fingers. “Got it.”

  “It’s a start. Maybe he can tell me if I have a home, a family…a wife.”

  Lola’s long, dark lashes fluttered. “I doubt it.”

  He plucked the card from her fingers and slipped it into his back pocket. “You doubt I have a home, a family and a wife?”

  “You may have a home and a family, but no self-respecting wife would allow her husband to go gallivanting around the world saving other people’s families.” Her jaw formed a hard line as if daring him to dispute her logic.

  “I don’t know about that.” He held up his left hand. “But I don’t feel married.”

  Could he be lusting after this hot doctor if he were?

  “That settles it, then.” She brushed her hands together. “Before you take off, do you want to see some pictures of Gabriel? Maybe they’ll jump-start something for you.”

  “Sure.” He owed her that much. He was trying to find himself, and she was trying to find her brother. He felt guilty for abandoning her cause for his. The two were linked, anyway.

  She flipped open the laptop on the kitchen table. Her long ponytail hung over her shoulder as she hunched forward, biting her bottom lip. Just his luck the one person in the States who held the key to his identity had to tweak his libido in all the right places. Hell, he thought he’d lost his libido along with his memory until he’d laid eyes on Lola.

  Tilting her head to the side, she waved him over. She pointed at the screen. “That’s Gabriel.”

  Jack spun a chair around and straddled it. He peered at the screen displaying a dark-haired man with serious eyes, a white doctor’s coat hanging on his lean frame. Dr. Gabriel Famosa.

  Why would a group of terrorists kidnap a doctor and not demand ransom from his obviously wealthy family? If they wanted something other than money from the doctor…

  A sharp pain sliced through Jack’s head, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. The picture of Lola’s brother swam before his eyes.