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“I CAN’T GO BACK to Houston yet,” she said as they walked to a public parking lot near the marina. “I have to fetch Mr. Bogart.”
“Who’s Mr. Bogart?”
“He’s a dog. A Chihuahua. My Chihuahua. He’s my…Chihuahua,” Cassie finished lamely.
Jack gave her a curious glance. “Yeah, I got that.” He pointed to a late-model sedan, then used the remote to unlock the doors. The car wasn’t at all what Cassie had expected, but perhaps the nondescript vehicle was part of his cover.
He opened the door for her, then went around to slide behind the wheel. “Where do we find Mr. Bogart?”
“He’s at Professor Gold’s beach house.”
Cassie gave Jack directions, and as they drove along the coastal roadway, she studied him covertly from the corner of her eye.
Did she trust him?
In spite of Sergeant Vargas’s ringing endorsement, she still hadn’t decided. The idea that Jack had been following her—maybe for days—left her distinctly uncomfortable. He’d seen her in unguarded moments, and that alone was enough to make her shy away from him.
And then there was that little scene at Metro.
The two of them had practically been making out in public. Cassie could only imagine what he must think of her after that…unseemly display.
He turned, saw her staring, and smiled.
And, boy, what a smile. The way his lips tilted slightly at the corners made Cassie think all kinds of things she had no business thinking, especially in light of the fact that she’d almost been shark bait little more than an hour ago. Talk about unseemly.
But…she’d been yearning for an adventure, and now here she was, smack-dab in the middle of a doozy.
“Which way?” Jack asked as they came to an intersection.
“Left.”
He made the turn, and as they drove along the narrow lane, Cassie noticed two twenty-something women in thong bikinis admiring a silver Jaguar parked on the side of the road. Cassie wasn’t sure why, but as she and Jack drove by, she turned to glance back. One of the girls lifted a cell phone to her ear and said something into the mouthpiece as she stared after Cassie and Jack.
There was nothing unusual in the girl’s action, Cassie told herself. Young women talked on cell phones all the time.
She put the incident out of her mind as Jack pulled into Ethan Gold’s driveway. “I won’t be long,” she told him, “but you’re welcome to come in if you want.”
“I’ll wait on the landing.” They both got out of the car, and Jack followed her up the stairs.
At the top, Cassie fished a key from underneath a flowerpot and opened the front door. She took a step inside, then froze.
The room had been totally trashed. Paintings and cushions had been ripped to shreds, furniture overturned, lamps smashed. Even the carpet had been slashed.
Cassie hadn’t consciously made a noise, but she must have cried out in dismay because suddenly Jack was right behind her. When he put a hand on her arm, she started violently. He said in her ear, “Wait here.”
He pulled a gun from the back waistband of his jeans—which had been hidden by his shirt—and slowly walked into the room. Flattening himself against the wall, he eased toward the hallway. Glancing back at Cassie, he put a finger to his lips, cautioning her to silence, then he turned and peered around the corner. Finding the coast clear, he disappeared down the corridor.
He’d been gone for only a few seconds when Cassie heard an engine rev somewhere below her. Instinctively, she started down the stairs, but before she made it to the bottom, Jack rushed past her, shoving her aside in his haste.
“He went out the back!” he yelled as he raced to the sedan and jumped in. But just as he reversed out of the drive, a car across the street backed out and blocked him.
Jack laid on the horn, but the noise seemed to only confuse the other driver. The car stopped just inches from the sedan’s bumper and remained there.
Infuriated, Jack jumped out of the car and waved for the driver to move. The car didn’t budge.
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