Page 39 of Dangerous Liaisons

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jesse squinted against the morning sun and pushed her sunglasses farther up the bridge of her nose. She sipped her coffee. Cole had left the hotel the night before and still hadn’t returned when she’d fallen asleep about two in the morning. A tremor raced through her. His phone call at seven that morning had jarred her from a dream of racing through the Colombian jungle while calling out his name. Hearing his voice had confused her in that first instant.

“You okay, Jess?” he’d asked.

Memory of the concern in his voice still nagged her.

Jesse set the coffee down and glanced through the café doors at the clock on the wall over the bar. One o’clock. He should be arriving any minute.

She looked back at the street and, as if on cue, an olive green International Harvester approached. Jesse squinted and recognized Cole at the wheel. She pulled a few pesos from her pocket, dropped them on the table, then strode to the curb. He stopped and Jesse glanced through the window into the back of the Harvester at the long aluminum case before she got in.

Day old stubble gave Cole’s apple pie looks an edge that sent a jolt of desire straight between her legs. His hair lay flat on the left side as if he’d slept in the car, and his long sleeved cotton shirt was rumpled. He looked like a man fresh from the beach after a night of lovemaking.

Jesse gave him an inquiring look.

He shifted into drive and said, “Everything is all right.”

Everything would be all right if she could be certain he believed she was innocent. Heat rocketed through her. Where the hell had that thought come from? From the need to know he saw through Lanton’s smokescreen to the real her, she realized with horror.

She hooked a thumb under one spaghetti strap of the sundress. “I can’t go traipsing through the jungle dressed like this.”

He gave his lopsided grin and surprised her by raking his gaze over her body. “Too bad. We’ll stop at your hotel.”

Fifteen minutes later and a hundred mental replays of the way he’d looked at her, Jesse led Cole up the narrow, worn-out stairs to her hotel room. The Do-Not-Disturb sign still hung on her door at the end of the hall. She pulled the key from the dress pocket and unlocked the door.

“Wait here,” she said. “The bathroom doesn’t have a door.”

“No problem,” he replied.

He leaned against the wall as she entered, then clicked the door shut behind her. An odor of foul water wafted from the bathroom. Jesse grimaced. At least her night at The Dan Carlton had saved her from having to use that bathroom. The double bed appeared undisturbed, as well as the single plastic chair she had placed with one leg covering a cigarette burn in the carpet. Her purse and toilet kit still sat on the cheap dresser where she had left them. She crossed to the dresser, then eased open the toilet kit. Her hairbrush still lay on top, bristles up, at a twenty-five degree angle, the handle pointing to the corner of the room.

Cole’s men were good enough to search and leave the bed and chair the way she had left them. Few would think anything about seeing a brush askew in the kit. Jesse turned, flipped up the bedcovers, and felt under the mattress’ bottom piping. The cut she had made to the cover was still tucked under. She reached inside and withdrew the cell phone sniffer, a 9mm Beretta, and four clips. She set them beneath the bed out of sight, then heaved the suitcase sitting beside the bed onto the mattress.

Kicking off her sandals, she shimmied out of the sundress. Jesse glanced at the door. If Cole were going to burst in, now would be the time. Maybe he needed an invitation. She could slip out of the boy shorts and show him what he’d missed yesterday. Who was she kidding? She’d practically thrown herself at him, and he’d reacted as if she was his little sister. Still, that hadn’t been his Colt pressed against her thigh when he lay on top of her.

Jesse unzipped the suitcase and slipped on a black sports bra and night-camouflage top, then strapped her combat knife to her right calf, and pulled on black fatigue-pants. She checked the breach on her 9mm Beretta, then removed her thigh holster and slammed the Beretta home. After putting on the ops-vest, she stuffed the clips into the outside pockets, slid the Beretta and holster into the left inside pocket, and the sniffer into the right inside pocket. Regret brought the burn of tears. If Cole discovered the truth, he would never forgive her. Jesse sat on the bed and pulled on black-poly socks and rubber-soled combat boots. She would have to live with that risk. Until Lanton was stopped, she couldn’t afford to trust anyone with all her secrets.

Jesse rose, then scooped up the sundress Cole had bought it for her. The soft fabric made her feel like a woman, but the armor she now wore was safer—especially around Cole. She carefully folded the dress and placed it in the suitcase before closing the top.

She strode to the door. With a final glance back at the suitcase still sitting on the bed, she opened the door. Cole straightened from the wall.

She closed the door. “Let’s roll.”