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“Sure, he’s legendary,” Scott replied, “and I knew there was more to you. Go on.”
She paused.
He’d indicated no surprise, or even concern, which made her believe he felt both. His ability to control his response suggested a high level of military training, possibly even espionage. Given the sophisticated high-tech house, and his nocturnal activities, nothing would surprise her.
“Elizabeth?”
“Sorry, I was just thinking about everything,” she said solemnly. “Dan Miller is an LAPD detective, but he’s on Conchello’s payroll. The first week I was at the mansion, Dan flashed his badge and pinned me against a wall to—as he put it—pat me down. I fought him off, surprisingly with no problem, but from that moment on, he’d scowl at me and make threatening comments. Please don’t think I’m paranoid when I say this, but the night of the raid I’m sure he was out to kill me. When he didn’t succeed, I suppose planting the evidence to get me arrested for Manny’s death was the next best thing.”
Pushing back from the desk, Scott moved slowly toward her. His poker face was gone, and she could see the anger in his eyes.
“At some point I’d like to hear how you ended up with such a dangerous assignment, but not now,” he murmured, bringing her into his arms.
“No, not now,” she agreed, sinking against him. “Now we need to talk about where I go from here.”
“Correction, where we go from here, you’re not in this by yourself.”
A swell of emotion rose up from deep inside her soul.
Scott was not only giving her shelter, he was offering a ray of hope.
Manny had been shot trying to save her from a spray of bullets, and when she’d fled the Conchello mansion, she’d been convinced she’d be dead within hours. But in Scott’s engulfing hug, and the security of the fortified house, she felt safe for the first time in months.
“You were right, miracles do happen,” she managed, slowly pulling back. “I shouldn’t be here. All the odds were against me.”
Scott had been drawn to Elizabeth from the moment he’d laid eyes on her when she’d first chartered his boat. The chemistry between them had been white hot, and that hadn’t changed. But after hearing her story, his respect and admiration for her spiked off the charts.
“Come back and sit down,” he said, keeping his arm around her as they returned to the desk. “Tell me about the raid. How did you get out?”
“I’m a platform diver. Manny and I were in Conchello’s office and it has a terrace overlooking the pool.”
“Holy crap.”
“Conchello’s men had set up an ambush for the agents, and the gunfire had started. We were trapped up there. Manny was trying to shove me out the French doors when the bullets started coming in. He… he…”
“He was hit?”
“Yeah, from bullets coming through the door, and I could hear Dan screaming, though I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Scott, I was terrified, and that’s when Manny got hit a second time. His last words were, dive, Lizzy, get out while you can, then he collapsed. There were two more shots, and that’s when I dashed out to the patio and ripped off my dress,” she continued, forcing back the tears. “I climbed on top of the rail and dove off, but when I surfaced all I could feel was overwhelming guilt for leaving him.”
“Dying beside Manny would have achieved nothing, you know that.”
“Logically, but abandoning him felt wrong. We’d been through so much. We weren’t lovers,” she added quickly. “It wasn’t like that.”
“You don’t need to explain. How did you get away?”
“We’d found this rickety old gate behind some bushes at the side of the house. Jim, our handler, left a motorcycle there in case we needed to escape.”
“Thank God,” Scott muttered. “The money? Was that in the office?”
“No, that was just weird. Manny discovered the sports bag in the gym the day before. We couldn’t believe it. He wrapped the wads of cash in cling film to preserve any fingerprints and DNA, then stuffed them in the bike’s saddlebags. We just didn’t have a chance to contact Jim and let him know before the raid.”
“Wait. You said the sports bag. What did you mean by that?”
“Oh, right, sorry. Everyone knew Conchello kept a shitload of cash in a sports bag locked in his safe. He boasted about it, but I don’t know how it ended up in the gym, or why there was only a small amount of money in it. At the time we assumed someone had taken it down there and was transferring the cash into another bag, but was interrupted and had to bolt.”
“I don’t think so,” Scott said thoughtfully. “Keep going.”
“I got to the bike no problem, but I was drenched, and bear in mind, all I was wearing was my underwear. We had a safehouse about fifteen minutes from the mansion. Obviously I made it.”
