One of the Boys (13 page)

“What the…?”

He staggered back, giving her the few seconds she needed to lunge forward and swing the clay pot with all the force she could muster.

 

Jake pulled into his driveway and waited for the automatic garage opener to lift the heavy doors. Rain drummed on the Jeep's roof with a steady, pounding beat. The stormy weather exactly matched his mood.

They'd been so close to launch, so close to springing the trap. Even when the storm over the Gulf changed course and headed inland, they'd almost pulled it off. Delaying cancellation of the mission until the last minute, they gave the saboteurs as much lead as possible.

Sure enough, a suspicious van had entered the range and parked just outside the expected drop zone. Agent Thompson told him they'd tracked the van with infrared scopes from the first moment it crossed the sensors.

They'd tracked a few other vehicles, as well, Jake found out during the debrief. Some poachers had wandered through the area with spotlights and gun racks mounted on their truck. Then a bunch of kids had driven through, heading for the small pond and an illicit swimming party. Thompson had an agent watching them the entire time.

The kids blew the whole scheme. Just after the
van arrived, a couple of the teenagers had left the pond. They'd headed toward the van and screeched to a halt before taking off like a NASCAR challenger. Unfortunately, the kids had spooked the suspects. The van left the area just a few moments later.

Special agents trailed the van, but they didn't have much to pin on the occupants. Trespassing, for sure. If they could convince a judge to issue a search warrant on such flimsy evidence they might get lucky and find some contraband or illegal tracking equipment in the vehicle.

After weighing the risks of alerting the suspects against the slim chances of finding anything incriminating in the van, Jake made the decision to let them go and try to rebait the trap with another test. Thompson radioed his people to continue following the van in hopes of identifying the occupants. Chances were they wouldn't report anything for hours, if even then, so Jake decided to make a quick run home to change. He'd been in his bag since early morning and felt hot, sweaty and frustrated. His body ached for a cool shower and a few hours of rest.

Wearily he slid out of the Jeep and let himself into the house. His footsteps echoed in the dark stillness. Knowing Lisa was out with Tony, he decided to change and drive over to Maura's. Maybe they could relax for a few hours and talk through this overwhelming concern she'd developed for his career.

He shook his head, remembering how serious she'd tried to be, how intent. She followed her heart
when it came to her personal affairs, but couldn't quite bring herself to believe Jake would do the same. He'd try to convince her tonight. On his way to the stairs, he stopped at the desk and punched the Play button on the phone recorder.

“Jake, this is Maura.”

As if he wouldn't recognize her voice, or any other part of her person, he thought with amusement.

“It's 9:00 p.m. Lisa's here with me. She, ah, got back from her date with Tony a little early. Come over if you get home before too late. If not, she'll stay with me tonight and we'll see you tomorrow.”

After a slight pause, she added softly, “I love you.”

Jake hit the Play button and listened to the message again, feeling his heart lighten. So the damn project had cost him two months of sleep. So they blew their chance to trap suspected saboteurs. So Jake wasn't sure if he'd have a job, much less a career, by the time this whole thing was over.

Maura loved him, and he loved her with an intensity that filled his entire being. He knew with absolute certainty that's all he needed in this world. The message just finished for the second time when the back door crashed open.

“Dad! Dad!”

The panic in Lisa's voice sent Jake sprinting into the kitchen. Drenched, panting and sobbing, his daughter fell into his arms.

“Dad, Maura's in the cove! Mr. Hansen's after her with a gun. I saw him on the range and he tried to kill us.”

Jake absorbed the implications of her stuttering, frantic cries in a split second. It took him another second or two to assure himself Lisa wasn't hurt. She was wet and covered with mud, but otherwise okay.

“Come on.”

There was no way he was going to leave her alone until Hansen and his cohorts were accounted for. Together they ran to the nearest house with a light showing. Jake pounded on the door, thrust Lisa into his startled neighbor's arms, rapped out a brusque order to call the police, then turned and raced toward the shore.

His booted feet crashed through the litter tossed down by the storm as he left cultivated lawn area and charged along the narrow path leading to Lisa's favorite cove. Rain pelted him in the face and obscured his vision, but didn't slow him down. His mind told him he should proceed cautiously, find a weapon, approach the situation only after careful recon. Years of experience and hard-learned survival instincts screamed caution, control, care.

His heart overrode every rational thought. Maura was in danger. Jake refused to even consider that he might be too late, that Pete might have found her.

He reached the small cove in less than a minute. Heart pounding, he stopped beside a scrubby pine seedling to get his bearings in the thick murkiness.
His breath caught when he saw a faint yellow glow in the distance, close to the bank.

The light beam moved toward him in short, jerky paces. It had to be Pete, looking for Maura. Trying to harm Maura.

Driven by a cold, lethal rage, Jake crashed out of the tree line and launched for the shore. At the same instant, the light speared straight upward. A shout rang out, then a crash, followed by a dull, thudding splash. The light sank into the water to glow eerily through a dark, wavy screen.

His heart in his throat, Jake leaped down the bank. He saw a dark shadow bent over, as if fishing for something in the shallow water. The shadow turned with a startled movement toward his noisy approach. Just as his muscles gathered for a flying leap, Jake recognized the white, staring face.

“Maura! Thank God!”

With a glad cry, she splashed across the few feet of shallow water separating them and fell into his arms. Jake hauled her up against his chest. She was sobbing something, but he couldn't hear her over the hiss of rain on the water and the roar of his own blood in his ears.

His arms crushed her against his heart, his face buried in her wet hair. He could feel her shivers and convulsive sobs through the slick material plastered against her body. Ankle-deep in water, rain pounding down on his head, rivulets of cold streaming down his collar, he rocked back and forth, Maura in his arms.

“Jake, it's Pete.”

“I know, darling.”

“No, it's Pete. Over there, in the water.” She pushed herself out of his arms enough to point to a dark lump lying half submerged a few feet away.

“I knocked him out. He may drown.”

“Let him.”

“Jake!”

Giving in to her urgent plea, he waded over to the fallen man. Pete lay on his back, his face half covered by the washing waves. Grabbing the front of his windbreaker, Jake hauled him bodily out of the sucking sand and water. He had him halfway to shore when a ring of lights blazed out on the bank above them.

“Freeze!”

For one heart-stopping moment, he thought Pete's accomplices had found them. Jake prepared to drop the dead weight in his hands and throw himself across the few feet to Maura, protecting her with his body.

“Colonel McAllister! Is that you?”

Dennis Thompson's incredulous voice speared through the blinding light. Jake's eyes narrowed against the glare as a figure detached itself from the ring of lights and jumped down the bank. Another figure followed and, within seconds, relieved Jake of his burden.

“'Bout time you got here, Thompson. I think we've found our saboteur. Pete Hansen will have a lot of explaining to do when he wakes up.”

Jake held Maura close as the small group headed for the bank. Hands reached out to pull them up to relatively dry land. Pete lay on the ground a short distance away, two brawny men standing over him.

“Nice work, sir.” The special agent's voice held awed admiration. “My men were tracking him since he left the range, but lost him in the rain and darkness. They found his car at Dr. Phillips's cottage just a few moments ago. With an empty gun holster inside it. How'd you get him?”

Jake squeezed the soggy bundle in his arms. “I can't claim any credit. Dr. Phillips took him down single-handedly.”

In the glare of the spotlights, Jake could see amazement and admiration ripple through the men clustered around them. They looked like something right out of a James Bond movie. Several had blackened faces, obviously from their earlier stakeouts on the range. Most wore dark pants and sweatshirts and knit caps over their hair. And all carried either handguns or semiautomatic weapons.

Thompson slipped his pistol into a shoulder holster and turned to Maura. “Good work, Dr. Phillips. How did you disarm him?”

She gave a little hiccup, half laughter, half sob. “I hit him with a pot.”

B
right September sunlight warmed the afternoon and bounced off the waters of the bay in thousands of sparkling white points of light. A slight breeze stirred among the waxy gardenia blossoms woven into the gazebo's framework. Heavy, sweet scent drifted from the flower-bedecked structure to the crowd seated in rows of chairs set in the shade of majestic oaks. A long, flagged walk led from the back patio of the Officers Club to the little white wrought-iron summerhouse.

Jake stood at rigid attention, shoulders squared in his mess-dress uniform, medals glinting in the sunlight. Beside him stood his best friend, Mac MacRae.

As the music began to swell, he turned to face the
club. Its back doors opened and Lisa appeared, a vision in deep, glowing rose. The color formed a warm contrast with her creamy complexion and dark, feathery curls. She looked breathtakingly beautiful to her father's totally impartial, coolly objective eyes.

Jake bit back a smile, remembering Lisa's indignant reply when her mother had suggested via long distance that pale pink was more her shade. His daughter explained very carefully and at great length how much healthier it was to surround oneself with brightness and glowing color. How the subconscious mind absorbed and responded to the stimuli around it.

He watched Lisa advance step by careful step, her bouquet held high and her smile wide. The crowd rose as the wedding march surged into full volume and Maura came out of the club and into the sunshine. Jake's eyes fastened on her face with a hungry, aching intensity.

She wore a white hat with a wide, translucent brim and yards of netting wrapped around it that trailed behind her in a long, floating stream. The floppy brim shaded her eyes, but even in the shadows Jake could see them shimmering with love. To his surprise, she wore a creamy white dress. He'd half expected orange or maybe even neon green.

But if the color was traditional, the design was certainly all Maura. Off the shoulder, about a foot shorter on one side than the other, and adorned with layer upon layer of lacy flounces, the dress reflected her unique style and cheerful individuality.

Throughout the short ceremony that followed, Jake's hand gripped hers, and his eyes never left her face. He held her fingers gripped in his as they walked back down the aisle under the gleaming arched swords of the honor guard, and throughout the reception. He'd nearly lost her once. He wasn't about to let her go again.

 

Not until the long reception was over and they'd retreated to a private family dinner at his house did he relax his grip or his stance. Surrounded by Maura's lively family, with his daughter's ready laughter adding to the chaos all around him, Jake felt a sense of rightness he'd never expected to experience again.

They'd moved Maura's things out of the cottage the day before, in the midst of arriving relatives and the wedding rehearsal, just before Jake's crew hauled him off for a bachelor party he was still trying to recover from. Now his home reflected Maura's indelible presence.

Boxes leaned haphazardly in various corners of the huge, sunlit living room, books and magazines littered the tables, and cushions in deep, glowing jewel tones added bright splashes of color to the austere leather-and-wood furnishings. The antique sideboard and beautifully crafted dining table graced the dining room.

“Well, I never thought to see the day that misbe
gotten, hunk of fur would have a place of honor in any man's house.”

Maura's father shook his head at Beatrice, regally presiding over the festivities from a velvet pillow set squarely in Jake's leather chair.

“That damn beast left furrows in the back of my hand the first time Maura brought her home for a visit.”

Jake grinned at the tall, silver-haired man. For a philosophy professor, Howard Phillips was surprisingly down-to-earth and easy to talk to. In the few days Jake had known him and the rest of Maura's boisterous family, he'd come to understand where her unique blend of brilliance and decided individuality sprang from.

“Bea and I have reached a state of mutual toleration,” he told his new father-in-law. “She allows me to feed her and see to her comfort, and I let her do precisely as she pleases.”

Despite his sardonic drawl, his glance held a trace of affection as it lingered on the cat.

“After the way she clawed up the bastard who was after Maura and Lisa, I'd give her my bed if she wanted it.”

“She probably will,” Howard said dryly.

“Daddy!” Lisa called from across the room. “We need you over here.”

With a nod to the professor, Jake edged his way through Maura's sisters and brothers and their nu
merous progeny. Joining his wife, he slipped his hand in hers.

He still couldn't quite believe the jolt that shot through him at the thought of being married to this vibrant creature. Of seeing her eyes light up with pleasure, her face crinkle in laughter, each day of his life. They shared a secret smile before turning to face Lisa and Maura's mother, both holding identically wrapped packages.

“Quiet, everyone,” Irene Phillips called in a low, musical voice so like her daughter's that Jake started every time he heard it. “Settle down on any available seat. We want to give the newlyweds their wedding gifts from the family.”

Jake lifted an inquiring brow at Maura, who shook her head. She was obviously as surprised as he.

“Here, Maura, Daddy. This is from me.”

Lisa's bright face reflected a simmering excitement as she handed them her box. Jake held it while his bride attacked the bows and paper. Lifting the lid, she pushed aside layers of tissue paper.

“Lisa, I don't believe this!”

Her voice held breathless laughter as she slipped both hands into the box. With utmost care, she lifted out a heavy, rounded clay jug.

“I sifted through the water for days,” Lisa told them excitedly. “I found almost every piece, then took them down to the museum. The people there helped me glue the bits together and even fabricated
some parts I couldn't find. See, the handle doesn't quite match.”

Maura turned the clay pot over and over in her hands, rubbing her fingers lightly across its red surface and tracing the patterns around its lip. She turned brimming eyes up to Jake as she handed him the jug.

“I think your daughter has found her chosen profession. We'd better plan on converting a room in the house to a museum for her finds.”

Jake took the pot gingerly. “It's beautiful, honey.”

Lisa's face glowed at his simple, heartfelt words. She basked in their pleasure for a few moments, then heaved a huge sigh.

“I'm afraid we can't keep it. The museum says it's from the oldest known civilization in this region. It's going to the University of West Florida, to be displayed in their antiquities collection. I just worked a deal with them to let me use it for today since I, or rather Maura, found it.”

“Oh, Lisa, thank you.” Maura leaned down to hug the girl with both arms. “It was a wonderful idea. We'll go over and see it as often as we can.”

“They're going to put a placard on the display with your name on it and everything.”

“With both our names,” she told the girl firmly.

“Here, darling.” Her mother stepped forward with the second box. “Just so you both have something to remind you of your memorable night.”

Maura looked at her mother's twinkling eyes and
knew before she opened the box what it contained. Sure enough, an identical pot lay in a nest of tissue. Crafted by her mother's hands, the new jug flowed in the same graceful lines as the original.

“Thank you, Irene.” Jake's deep voice rumbled with pleasure. “This is a work of art. It'll have a place of honor in our home. Right beside the bed.”

“Where we can use it if anyone ever tries to break in,” Maura finished for him.

 

Much later, Maura lay beside Jake in his king-size bed. The house whispered around them, filled with the soft noises of various family members settling in for the night. Moonlight filtered in through high, arched windows that faced the bay and illuminated the clay pot sitting in isolated splendor on a pedestal of boxes between the tall windows.

Despite Maura's best intentions, they hadn't unpacked or sorted out any of her belongings. They wouldn't be there long enough to bother, Jake told her. Two days before the wedding, he'd gotten word of his promotion and pending reassignment to Hanscom Air Force Base, just outside Boston.

Sighing, Maura nestled her head on his shoulder. “I really hate to leave Florida, but one of the engineers at work has a brother who used to be stationed at Hanscom. After hearing him describe the high-tech research and development going on up there, not to mention all the great places to eat and sights to see,
I'm looking forward to it. I have a feeling we're going to really enjoy this new assignment.”

A rumble sounded in the chest just under her ear. She glanced up into Jake's moon-shadowed face to see him grinning down at her.

“I know we'll enjoy it. I trust your instincts implicitly.”

Maura snuggled contentedly against her husband's broad chest. Tomorrow they would take Lisa to the airport to return to Virginia, and then leave for a honeymoon. They were both looking forward to those few precious days together. Jake had suggested sailing around the Virgin Islands, but Maura convinced him they should try Cancún. She'd developed a burning desire to visit the ancient Mayan ruins. Who knew what bits and pieces they might uncover there?