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Jack twisted his lips into a semblance of a smile. "I noticed you, but I'm kind of...involved."
He pulled the cap lower on his forehead and scanned the crowd for more agents or government officials or whoever else had him on their radar. Someone jogged past him, and Jack coiled his muscles, preparing for a fight. The man swept up a child in a hug, and Jack released a long breath.
The woman at his side nudged his shoulder with her head. "You're not involved with the woman you're trying to hide from, are you?"
"No. She's the one causing me trouble."
"How long are we an item?"
"Just until we get through the baggage claim area." Once he took off with the black duffel that contained everything he knew about his life, he'd be safe...at least for now.
The woman squeezed in front of him on the down escalator. Pointing to the right, she said, "Baggage claim's over there. It's been a memorable two minutes."
Her bright, hard words pierced the brittle barrier of tension encasing his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I can pay for your taxi or..."
She held up her hand, a white card with gold lettering pinched between her manicured nails. "That's okay. Maybe you can give me a call sometime if things don't work out with your...involvement."
He glanced at the card before slipping it into the pocket of his jeans. "Thanks, Rebecca."
Jack merged with the crowd as it surged into the baggage claim area, his shoulders tense, his body still sore from the tumble he'd taken down the side of a mountain somewhere in Afghanistan. He shoved his hands in the pockets of the cheap jacket he'd picked up at the airport in Frankfurt, acting as if he belonged when, in truth, he belonged nowhere.
The baggage carousel had already creaked to life and was displaying its offerings in a lazy circle. A film of sweat broke out under the band of Jack's cap. He reached down to swipe at a black bag, but a man stepped in front of him.
"I think that's mine. These bags all look alike."
Jack nodded, another fear stabbing his gut. What if somebody had picked up the duffel bag by mistake? That bag had saved his life and gotten him to Miami, where he planned to claim the rest of his life.
The carousel served up another soft-sided black bag, and Jack held his breath, his fingers tingling with anticipation. He leaned over the bag and yanked the strap, lifting it clear of its unclaimed mates. He read the fake name he'd scribbled on the paper airline luggage tag and hitched the bag over his shoulder.
He caught sight of the man in the suit, standing tall and perusing the passengers hoisting their bags from the carousel and greeting friends and family. They must've recognized the phony name on the passenger list, but at least Jack had changed his appearance so he looked nothing like his picture on the watch list.
Jack hunched his shoulders, tucked his chin to his chest and made a beeline for the exit. As the glass doors to freedom slid open, someone tapped his shoulder. He swung around, hands fisted, jaw clenched.
The blonde from the plane, Rebecca, widened her eyes and blinked. "I don't even know your name. What's your name?"
His mind went blank for a second before he stuttered. "W-Will. Just Will."
The suit from one corner of the baggage claim area and the Hawaiian shirt from the other glanced at the exit door in unison. Jack swung the duffel onto his back and sprinted outside. He dashed into traffic, crouching behind an airport shuttle van. With his heart pounding, Jack weaved through the vehicles clogging the street in front of the airport.
Finally, he jumped onto a bus headed for a parking lot. He slumped in a vinyl seat, his pulse beating a furious rhythm behind his closed lids.
He'd made it. He'd finally made it to Miami. Now he just had to track down the one woman who could help him. He knew he was Jack Coburn. The young Afghan boy had told him that much. But who the hell was Jack Coburn and why was he a wanted man?
Chapter One
Dr. Lola Famosa rubbed the goose bumps on her arms...and the chill had nothing to do with the cold, dead body reposing on the slab in front of her.
On her way to the hospital's morgue in the basement, she'd had the sensation of eyes following her. Ridiculous, since she'd taken the elevator down alone and all the doors along the pristine corridor had been closed.
