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Amy kicked off her flip-flops and scooped them up from the sidewalk with one hand. Holding her breath, she waited for Riley’s signal. At three, she shot off as if she was heading into the ocean for a rescue.
The car alarm beeped once, and she grabbed the handle and dropped onto the leather seat. Before she closed the door, the car lurched forward and Riley careened around the corner. Panting, Amy twisted in her seat. No headlights followed them.
She snapped on her seat belt and leaned against the headrest, closing her eyes. “Where to?”
“I can drop you off at the police station or at least down the block from the police station. Then you can report everything, and they’ll come back to the house with you. Those men won’t try anything with the cops there.”
She stuffed her feet into her flip-flops. “What about when the cops leave?”
“Can you stay with someone for a few days until this blows over? Chances are once Carlos’s killers realize you don’t know anything, and you keep your distance from me, they’ll leave you alone.”
“Chances are?” She gripped the edge of the seat, her damp hands slipping off the leather.
“Those boys have bigger fish to fry to risk going after a witness who may or may not even be a witness.”
“All right then. Take me to the police station.” She knotted her fingers in her lap. “What should I tell them…about you, I mean?”
His boyish grin danced across his face. “Tell them the truth. I have a feeling nothing-but will do for you.”
“I’ll tell them you saved my life…twice.”
He cocked his head. “Are you always so loyal?”
“I don’t know about that. If you’re telling me the truth, you don’t need to be locked up in a jail cell while the cops try to figure out your involvement and degree of culpability. Sometimes the cops aren’t too particular.”
He squeezed her clenched hands with a firm grasp. “Don’t worry about me, beach girl. The cops aren’t going to find me.”
She glanced at his large hand, brown from the sun, his calluses rough against her skin. “What are you, Riley?”
“I told you before, the less you know, the better. This way you don’t have to lie to the cops.”
She snorted. “I don’t mind lying to the cops if there’s a good reason. Where will you go after you drop me off? You’re not finished with those men, are you?”
His mouth formed a thin line as he fumbled with Carlos’s built-in GPS. Amy sighed. She’d never know anything more about him than his name—and how his body felt against hers, shielding her, protecting her.
“There’s a police station pretty close. I’ll drop you off down the block, watch you go inside, and then I’ll be out of your life.”
She swallowed. “What are you going to do with Carlos’s car?”
“I’ll leave it someplace where it can be recovered and returned to his…wife.” He raised one eyebrow. “How’d that happen anyway?”
Hunching her shoulders, Amy clasped her hands between her knees. “I met him at the beach while I was working. We went out a few times from there. He came to my place a few times…”
She clenched her jaw. She didn’t want to waste her last few minutes with Riley talking about her train wreck of a love life. “You know, I never thanked you for saving me on the beach. And if you hadn’t come back with me to my house, that man outside with the gun could’ve killed me.”
“It’s the least I could do.” He brushed his fingers along her arm. “I put you in danger by landing on your beach.”
Every time Riley touched her, she felt a current of electricity run through her body. She’d better turn that off. This mysterious man would be disappearing from her life in a matter of minutes.
She rubbed her eyes. “Didn’t look like you had much choice.”
Drawing his brows together, he scratched his chin. “Yeah. I don’t know why they decided to anchor off the coast at that particular spot. But I plan to find out.”
Amy’s heart galloped in her chest. Riley was a man who lived dangerously—and seemed to enjoy it. Just her type. She’d tried and tried to gravitate toward stable men with stable jobs, but it never seemed to work out. Carlos had his own import/export business, but he hadn’t turned out to be dependable either. Maybe her excitement radar had somehow picked up on that, too.
The car slowed and Riley pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall. “There’s the police station. I’ll watch from here until you’re safely inside.”
Amy rubbed her tingling nose. Once she got rid of Riley she’d be safe. Wouldn’t she? She grabbed the door handle.
His hand dropped to her shoulder, and she twisted around. He slid his fingers up to her throat, his eyes now a dark blue, clouding over like a stormy sea. Her pulse ticked wildly beneath his touch.
“Be careful, beach girl.” Then he cupped the back of her head and drew her close, sealing his lips over hers.
The quick kiss didn’t feel like goodbye. It felt like a protective stamp that she’d carry with her forever.
She managed an inarticulate goodbye as she scrambled out of the car. Walking toward the police station, she didn’t dare turn around, even though she could feel Riley’s gaze searing her back.
God, she hoped the police could help her, even though she didn’t trust them. She hoped for once they could reassure her and make her feel safe.
As safe as she’d felt with Riley.
RILEY EXHALED HIS PENT-UP breath as Amy swung open the glass door of the San Diego Sheriff’s Station and disappeared inside.
Velasquez’s people murdered Carlos because they expected Riley to show up there with Amy. Why didn’t they just wait there? Why did they leave then return? Carlos must’ve upset their plans even though it didn’t look like the guy put up much of a fight.
He rolled his shoulders and put the car in gear. Once Amy returned with the sheriff’s deputies, Velasquez’s men would realize Riley had taken flight. Then they’d leave Amy alone.
They’d better leave Amy alone.
He swung the sleek car back onto Imperial Beach Boulevard and accelerated toward the highway. He had to get back to that beach to find out why it had been such a strategic location for the Velasquez Cartel. The boat hadn’t moored off that coast and sent a diver in by accident.
If the guy hadn’t spotted him and attacked him underwater, Riley could have surprised a meeting or interrupted a drop. Maybe their fight had scared off the contact on the beach.
He smacked the leather steering wheel with the heels of his hands. He’d have to wait until morning anyway. The cops would most likely follow Amy back to the scene of the crime and light up that beach like a Christmas tree.
Until they realized there was no evidence of a crime. No evidence. No crime.
They’d find plenty of evidence at Amy’s house though. Really sucked for Carlos. Should be a warning to married men everywhere not to cheat.
Although, after spending a few hours with Amy, he could understand the temptation Carlos had faced.
A buzzing noise filled the car, and Riley almost swerved into the next lane. Tilting his head, he determined the sound was coming from the backseat. Cell phone?
He took the next exit and swung into an empty parking lot next to some train tracks. He unsnapped his seat belt, twisting in his seat. A small light glowed from the pocket of a jacket on the backseat. Riley reached over, slid his hand in the pocket and pulled out the cell phone, flashing Missed Call.
The guy’s wife? He flipped open the phone and checked the display, which read Restricted. The caller hadn’t bothered to leave a voice mail or text message either.
Riley glanced at the clock on the dashboard. He had to check in with the colonel. Might as well use Carlos’s phone before dumping it. He wouldn’t need it, and his wife probably wouldn’t care to see all those calls to Amy.
The colonel picked up on the first ring.
“Colonel, it’s Riley.”
“Did you get anything from the lead on that boat?”
“A couple of dead bodies. The boat dropped anchor off the coast near Imperial Beach and sent in a diver. Let’s just say we mixed it up a little before we reached the shore. He could’ve been meeting someone or scouting the location. I didn’t stick around to find out because his buddies started shooting at us.”
“Us?”
“There was a lifeguard on the beach.”
The colonel swore. “Is he okay?”
“She’s okay.” And then Riley reported what had occurred, taking full responsibility for the screwup.
The colonel swore again. “You’re going to have to go back to that beach and figure out why it’s important to the Velasquez crew.”
“Any more news about Jack?” Riley held his breath.
“The CIA is calling him a traitor. They’re convinced he’s working for the other side.”
Riley choked on his bitter rage. “That’s not possible. You know it and I know it.”
“I know Jack Coburn’s name came up in chatter between the Velasquez Drug Cartel and an arms dealer in Colorado. Find out the link between those two, Riley, and we might be on the first step to finding Jack and proving his innocence.”
“I’m on it. I owe Jack.”
“We all do. I have another name to give you— Castillo. My CIA contact slipped it to me. He’s connected to the Velasquez boys. And one more thing, I’m giving you a new number for me.”
As the colonel rattled off the number, Riley lunged for the glove compartment. He groped in the dark recess, and his fingers tripped across a pen and a scrap of paper as other papers floated to the floor of the car. He jotted down the colonel’s new number and ended the call.
Glancing at the cell phone in his hand, he realized he couldn’t leave the phone in Carlos’s car for the police to find. Not that the colonel had an even remotely traceable phone number, but just like the fingerprints in Amy’s house, he wanted to err on the side of caution. That included the fingerprints in this car. He’d wipe it clean before abandoning it.
Then he’d get back to his safe house, claim his own car and skulk outside Amy’s house after the cops left just to make sure she got off to her friends’ house okay.
He pressed his knuckle against the switch for the dome light and bent forward to retrieve the papers from the car mat. A few receipts. A scribbled address. Registration.
Pinching the corner of the registration between two fingers, Riley raised it to the light. He read the name aloud. “Carlos Castillo.”
Castillo.
The name slammed against his brain, and bright spots danced in front of his eyes. Amy’s ex hadn’t been the victim of bad luck. Carlos had chosen Amy for a reason. The Velasquez cartel had chosen that beach for a reason. Someone killed Carlos Castillo for a reason.
And now they might have a reason to kill Amy.
AMY GULPED IN A LUNGFUL of the damp evening air as she squared off with the San Diego Sheriff’s deputy. She pointed a shaky finger toward her house. “His body was on my kitchen floor. He was dead.”
“Ms. Prescott, can you explain to us how, not one, but two dead bodies can disappear in one night?” Deputy Sampson crossed his arms over his chest.
He and another sheriff’s deputy had accompanied her to the beach, and just as Riley had predicted, someone had collected the body of the diver and Riley’s diving gear. In the meantime, the sheriff’s department had sent another car to Amy’s house to check on the dead body of Carlos Castillo. Amy hadn’t expected that one to disappear, too.
Why? Why would this drug cartel remove Carlos’s body?
She closed her eyes. Maybe she had dreamed the entire episode. She licked her lips, still salty from Riley’s kiss, and knew she’d been wide awake.
“Call Carlos’s wife. I’m sure she’ll verify that he’s missing.”
Deputy Sampson slipped a phone out of his pocket. “What’s the number?”
“I—I don’t know his home number, just his cell.”
“What’s that then?”
“I don’t know that either. I can’t remember it, and I deleted it from my contacts.”
The deputy rolled his eyes, and Amy clenched her jaw to keep from screaming. She ground out between clenched teeth, “Why would I lie about a couple of dead bodies and a mysterious spy?”
“Look, Ms. Prescott. I’m not saying you’re lying, but there’s not much we can do right now with no bodies to back up your story and your, uh, spy nowhere to be found.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Maybe Mr. Castillo wasn’t dead, and he got up and walked away.”
“He was dead.” She clenched her hands in front of her, recalling that she wouldn’t let Riley touch Carlos’s body. “H-he looked dead.”
“Maybe you did stumble on some kind of drug deal. God knows, this close to the Mexican border we’ve seen plenty of crap going down. We’ll send someone out to the beach again tomorrow. The body just might wash up on shore. And obviously if we get a call from Mrs. Castillo reporting a missing husband, we’ll be back.”
Another deputy jogged down her front steps. “If someone did snatch the body, whoever it was did a great cleanup job.”
“And what about the wet suit?” Amy shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. Not that she wanted to put the cops on Riley’s trail, but a little bit of evidence might show she hadn’t been delusional.
“Did you find the wet suit on the living room floor?” Deputy Sampson jerked his chin toward the other deputy.
“No. There’s some sand around, but isn’t she a lifeguard who just got off work?”
Amy stamped her foot, feeling about two years old. “I’m not making this up. A man saved my life on the beach and came home with me. He’s the one who dropped me off at the station.”
“Did you have a bad breakup with this ex-boyfriend of yours, Ms. Prescott? You found out he was married, you went a little crazy?” He held up his hands. “Hey, I don’t blame you. Maybe you changed your mind and you wanted him back. He’d rush to your rescue or something, leave his wife.”
Amy’s jaw dropped. “That is so not me, Deputy Sampson.”
He lifted his shoulders as the other two deputies ambled toward their squad cars parked at the curb, their red lights still casting a glow over the few neighbors who’d remained outside during the excitement.
Amy rubbed her arms. This was it. They were leaving. They didn’t believe her, or they strongly doubted her. Thought she was some love-obsessed loon.
“I’ll tell you what.” Deputy Sampson shoved his useless little notebook in his pocket. “Like I said, we’ll send someone to check out the beach tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll look into the whereabouts of Carlos Castillo. If he’s missing, we’ll be back.”
“I probably won’t be here.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m not going to stick around to see if they bring the body back. You don’t plan to stick around—do you?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Prescott. We’re not in the bodyguard business, but I’ll make sure a patrol car takes a couple of turns around your neighborhood tonight.”
Yeah, that makes me feel warm and fuzzy. Amy gripped her upper arms. It didn’t matter. These sheriff’s deputies with their rolling eyes and tight-lipped suspicions didn’t make her feel safe anyway. Only one man could make her feel safe right now—Riley, her phantom spy.
