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"When I saw you--" he brushed a strand of hair caught on her lashes "--so strong, so fearless, so beautiful, I knew I had to see you again. I'd always planned to return to Miami after rescuing Gabe, and it turned out better than I expected."
"Better?" She jerked an arm out from her side. "This is not better."
"Farouk has never gotten the best of me, Lola. And he's not going to start now, not when I have so much more to live for."
She'd often wondered what the future would hold for her and Jack once he regained his memory and this nightmare was over. Now that she had a glimpse of that future, it was going to be snatched away from them.
But Jack didn't need her falling apart. "Do you have everything?" she asked.
He patted the pocket of his jacket. "My gun. Pepper spray in the other pocket. Knife taped to my leg. Not that Farouk will let me get away with any of that, but it's worth a try."
"When I get Eddie, I'll call the Coast Guard. At least--"
"At least maybe they'll get him after he kills me."
"That's not going to happen." She pushed the words out through clenched teeth.
"Not if I have anything to say about it."
They drove to the Bayside Marina and located slip twenty-six, which was empty. Jack pointed toward the end of the pier. "There's the bait shop. I'll send Eddie there and you can pick him up. Leave me now."
Lola glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "You still have twenty minutes."
"I want to get the lay of the land...or sea. Figure out some options."
Lola swung into a parking space facing the bobbing boats. "Promise you'll do whatever it takes to come back to me, Jack."
He reached over and curled a hand around the back of her neck. "I will."
They shared a tentative kiss as if afraid to commit to anything more solid. Lola sighed against Jack's lips and he deepened the kiss, sealing his mouth to hers. Imprinting himself on her forever.
One single tear dripped from her lashes. Jack caught it on his fingertip and whispered, "I love you, Lola Famosa."
Through tear-blurred eyes, she watched him saunter down to the pier like he was heading out for a day of fishing. Would she ever see him again?
She wheeled out of the parking lot. She'd noticed a sidewalk cafe not far from the marina, close enough that she could be back here in minutes. She didn't want Eddie to be on his own for long.
As she parked the car at the curb, the prepaid phone rang. Not yet! It wasn't even two o'clock.
"Hello."
"Has Caliban hit stormy weather yet?"
Lola's heart slammed against the wall of her chest. "Raven? Is this Raven Pierre?"
"Who is this?"
"My name is Lola, Lola Famosa, and I'm with Jack Coburn. He needs your help." But it was too late now. Too late.
The woman sucked in a quick breath. "You're with Jack? Where?"
"Miami." Lola almost wailed. How could they help now?
"Miami? Oh, thank God. Buzz is in Miami. They're all in Miami. They thought, they heard...never mind. Where are you?"
So close and yet too late. Lola almost sobbed with frustration. "It's too late, Raven. Jack is going to meet Farouk. H-he's trading himself for a little boy."
"Listen to me, Lola. Where is Jack?"
Lola told Raven about the marina and the boat slip and the bait shop. "It's slip twenty-six. I think he plans to take Jack out on the boat and kill him."
"Has he left with Farouk yet?"
"Not yet. Two o'clock."
"I need you to do something, Lola. Get back to that marina but keep out of sight. Can you text from that phone?"
"Not this one, but I have my own cell with me."
"Spy on the boat, Lola. Text me a description--speed or sail, approximate size, color. If you can see Farouk's clothing, note that, as well."
"Are they coming then? Is Prospero going to help Jack?"
"They'll help Jack...or die trying."
JACK SQUINTED AT THE WATER when he heard an outboard motor chugging through the marina. A few people were out on the water or working on their boats. He could raise a ruckus, but then Farouk would probably shoot him and then Eddie. No, he'd shoot Eddie first.
A motorboat came into view, white with a red stripe along the side, its nose pointed toward slip twenty-six. Jack tensed his muscles. If he could face off against four angry Afghans and survive with just a loss of memory, he could handle Farouk. Farouk had always been the brains behind any operation, not the muscle.
