Chapter 8

In some ways, Lela’s stay at the cottage was idyllic. The view of the water from the cozy vacation spot was relaxing, nearly making her forget how temporary it all was. Although there was no way to truly block out the threat that loomed over her.

Yet Lela could try. The first morning, she enjoyed freshly brewed coffee at a quaint café along the shore. Breakfast was steak and eggs, with biscuits that tasted homemade.

After the meal, Rip took her to the local eye doctor, a man he knew. He requested contact lenses for Lela to make her eyes green instead of brown. The doctor marked the order as priority, so the lenses would be ready within a day or so.

Then, with Rip following, she shopped in a few stores and came up with a hat with suitable clothing, items she wouldn’t normally wear. To complete the ensemble, she bought some sturdy shoes—fighting shoes, she called them. Rip didn’t ask her what she meant.

For the rest of the day, Lela and Rip hung out at the cottage, staying out of sight. The atmosphere was peaceful and the bay was glassy, not a ripple in sight. The quiet was a sign that the hideout was safe. No one approached, and the other residences were far enough away that not even a dog barked within hearing.

When the sun dipped in the sky, Rip suggested dinner out. The freezer food was okay, but he wanted a more substantial meal.

“Does this town have barbecue?” Lela said.

Rip grinned. “Just what I was thinking.” After she put on a jacket and hopped on the bike, Rip pulled down the driveway heading into town.

Since it was a short ride, Lela had her hair tied back, forgoing the helmet. With her arms around Rip, she leaned her cheek against his sturdy back. She was tempted to lower her hands and run them over his washboards abs. But that would send the wrong message.

It was no easy task to be in such close proximity with Rip and not want him. The truth was that Lela did want to touch. She longed to see his buff body stripped of the shirt and jeans, certain the clothing covered up a beautifully chiseled form.

Lela didn’t need to see him without clothes to be hot for him—any woman would be. She itched to run her fingers through his silky black hair. It shone in the sunlight, and was dark as ink in the nighttime. He had a little scruff along his jaw in the morning before he shaved. And he wore a silver cross on a thin chain around his neck.

Rip had a habit of looking directly at her. It was unnerving in a sensual way. In moments like that, it seemed that he knew her better than any man had before. Yet she’d known him for such a short time. If only she could look into those eyes…forever.

But Lela was dreaming. It was just that her life was hanging in the balance, and Rip had come to her rescue. She depended on him. Yet she couldn’t give in to her urge to fall into his arms, ask him to hold her tight, and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

While Lela was out of harm’s way for a couple of days, it couldn’t hurt to daydream. Imagining what it would be like to experience intimate moments with her gorgeous bodyguard was an acceptable sin—as long as she didn’t act on her impulse to make it reality.

Rip pulled the motorcycle into an open spot, and she slid off the back. He smiled at her, melting her heart. Despite the warrior he was, Rip was gentle and sensitive—although she was certain he wouldn’t admit it.

“Smell that?” Rip said.

San Leon Barbecue was a hole-in-the-wall joint, but all one could want in a Texas barbecue restaurant. Lela spotted the outdoor smoker. “I see the cook does it the old-fashioned way.”

“Yep, he subscribes to the ‘low and slow’ method of cooking…uses a hardwood fire that’s watched carefully overnight.”

The place was already packed, even that early in the evening. Customers filled all the available chairs and huddled together on benches lining the long wooden tables. The weather was mild, so Rip took her outside and found a table for two.

A waitress followed along with menus, but Rip already knew what he wanted. “I’ve eaten here many times.”

Lela ordered the same. It was hard to go wrong with beef brisket. The bottles of beer were promptly served. She sipped while enjoying the view: the fading light over the town, and even more, the heartthrob sitting across from her.

“You grew up around here?”

Rip took a gulp of beer. “I did…and I tend to gravitate to this area. My buddies and I have ridden bikes on these back roads many times.”

Lela was intrigued.

“Sometimes we’d go flat-out on our motorcycles all day long, eighty to ninety miles an hour. Then, at night, we’d party way out in the woods. The cops wouldn’t find us, or tended to look the other way as long as we didn’t make trouble.”

Rip smiled. “At some point, there was always someone stumbling into the bonfire or shooting a pistol into the air. We’d party until dawn, sleep on the ground, then get back on the bikes and hit the road again.”

“I’m trying to envision you doing that,” Lela said.

“I was a lot younger then. Some of the guys moved away, or I lost contact with them. But whenever I had a break from deployment and came home for a visit, there seemed to be a couple of buddies around.”

“And you’re still tight with them?”

Rip nodded. “The guys that are still here…not that many anymore.”

The conversation was interrupted when the meals were served. The aroma of garlic and spices wafted up from the plates of brisket, accompanied with onions, pickles, and coleslaw.

Lela carved a bite off the strip of herb-crusted beef and slipped it into her mouth. The meat was as tender and tasty as anticipated. For a while, she focused on eating the delicious feast.

Partway through the meal, Rip ordered two more beers, and Lela took a break. “I plan to finish the brisket, so don’t think you’re getting any of mine. I’m taking a breather, that’s all.”

Rip leaned back in the chair and swigged his beer.

“So do you have family here, besides your brother?” Lela said.

“My parents moved closer in, got a home in the suburbs. My younger sister lives out of state with her husband and kids. They have a place in Atlanta.”

“The name McConnell is Scottish, right?”

“Yes, I got my Spanish blood from my mother’s side. Her parents were born in Madrid,” Rip said. “What about you? You’re divorced?”

Lela sat up. “How did you know that?”

“I did a quick background on you before rushing off to your rescue. It’s not that hard to find out the basics: height, weight, marital status.”

“I guess it’s no secret anyway,” Lela said. “I was married to Tomás Cruz for ten years. We were high school sweethearts, and I thought I’d spend my life with him. We had a big Catholic wedding, the works.”

“What happened?”

Lela shrugged. “Turns out that I wasn’t his type. He wanted a domestic wife who stayed at home, cooked meals, and raised the kids.” She sighed. “I tried…really. I’m just unconventional, I suppose.”

Rip smiled. “Having a career of your own, being independent…learning self-defense?”

“You catch on quick. Even my dear mother wishes I’d tone it down, but you know…there are some things that probably won’t change.” Lela twirled her bottle on the table. “The thing was that Tomás didn’t leave me.”

“At least he had some good sense.”

“Well, I appreciate the compliment. But he didn’t have enough sense to be true to his wedding vows,” Lela said. “He caroused around, loved the women…used to boast about being the Latin lover. It didn’t take long for me to figure it out. Over and over, he said he’d change, but those were just empty promises.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah…me too. But it was no way to live,” Lela said. “I put an end to it over four years ago, much to my mother’s dismay. She thought I should have worked it out. In the eyes of the church, marriage is permanent.”

After finishing their meals, Lela and Rip cruised back to the cottage. It was dark out, but a bright moon shone overhead. Since it was still early in the evening, Lela found a bottle of wine and suggested sitting on the terrace.

The moonlight shimmered on the water, casting a soft light over Rip. He was so damned sexy. The romantic ambience wasn’t helping. Lela wanted to go sit on his lap and breathe in his male aroma. She wanted to feel his strong arms around her and press her lips to his.

She cautioned herself to slow down on the alcohol before she did something she’d regret. “So tell me about Isabel. What was she like?”

Rip stared at his glass of wine. “She was beautiful, inside and out…kind, sweet.” He looked up. “She was nothing like you, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. She was softer spoken, relied on family, and wanted a traditional wedding.”

“She sounds like a lovely woman,” Lela said. “You were in your twenties when you got engaged?”

“Yes, Isabel had waited, given in to my preference to postpone marriage until I was out of the service. As that date drew closer, she began planning the wedding.”

The tranquility of the night settled over the terrace. Rip didn’t elaborate about the wedding, but even in the dim light, Lela saw the sadness in his eyes.

“How did she die?” Lela said in a low voice.

Rip put his glass down and dragged both hands through his hair. “Isabel was killed in a gang fight, a place that she never should have been.” He let out a long breath. “Her older brother had gotten involved with drugs, hung out with the wrong crowd.”

Rip looked at her, agony evident in his expression. “The thing was…I knew it. I grew up here, so I was no stranger to the drug scene. I should have made sure she stayed away, but she was close to her brother…she was close to all her family.

“So I left on deployment for the final time, thinking everything would be okay back home…that she’d be here when I returned.” Rip hesitated. “Only she wasn’t. While I was gone, her brother got into trouble and she went to help him. She ended up in the middle of a bad scene…and got shot.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lela said.

“I knew,” Rip said. “I’d known for years that her brother’s connection to the cartel was dangerous. I shouldn’t have left her. I should have made sure that she was safe.” He was too choked up to speak for a moment. “I was to blame. I was negligent.”

Lela wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have predicted what happened. But she knew that Rip wouldn’t believe her. His fiancée had died over thirteen years ago, yet he spoke of it as if it had occurred yesterday.

Rip hadn’t moved on; he hadn’t forgiven himself for his transgression, whether real or imagined. Lela admired his loyalty, and his sense of responsibility to his betrothed. But she was aware of something else, too.

The fight against the cartel was personal for Rip. This wasn’t only about saving Lela, although she was sure that was part of it. He had other reasons to go after them.

“Did you find the guy who did it?” Lela said.

“I tried. I came home, took a leave of absence for the funeral. I did all I could, but parts of Mexico are corrupt and lawless. Once the guy went back, I had no way of tracking him down.”

Lela carried her own grudge against the cartel. She’d lost her father to a similar terror. It was likely Rip knew, since he’d checked into her background. She was the daughter of a cop killed in action.

She went over and sat on the ottoman in front of Rip. “I wish it could have been different,” she said, and put her hand on his knee.

“I can’t undo the past…but I can make sure that you’re safe.” Rip looked into her eyes. “I already lost one woman to the cartel. I won’t allow another innocent woman to be harmed. I promise to protect you…no matter the risk.”

Lela’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t know what to say. She had no doubt Rip meant what he’d said, and it touched her deeply.

When Lela squeezed his knee, Rip touched her cheek. She leaned in and kissed him. When her lips pressed to his, heat radiated through her body. She wanted him, needed to be closer. His soft, sensual mouth pulled her deeper into the emotion of the moment.

Rip didn’t pull away. Instead, he put his hand on the back of her head, digging his hand into her hair. He dipped his tongue into her mouth. The passion escalated, and Lela put her hands on his shoulders, lost in his maleness.

Sensation zipped through Lela like lightning, setting fire to her. She dug her hand into his silky hair and tasted his sexy mouth, craving him. He thrust his tongue along hers, then lightly licked over her lips. His kiss was laced with desire, yet tender and sensual.

Rip released her and looked into her eyes. His expression was soft, filled with longing. He pulled her toward him and kissed her again, her lips tingling from the intimate touch. Then he let go of her without a word.

Lela was desperately close to taking it further. With her life hanging by a thread, she needed Rip’s arms around her. A voice in her head told her it wasn’t real; it was heightened emotion because of the circumstances.

But that didn’t make her want Rip any less.

Quietly, she sipped her wine, unwilling to pry anymore that night. Rip had shared his past with her. It meant a lot. And she was weak from his hot kiss, smitten by the way he’d pulled her to him. His passion simmered below the surface, just as hers did.

Yet Lela shouldn’t give in; it wouldn’t be wise. There were so many reasons why it wouldn’t work. And Rip hadn’t made any advance. It was just one kiss. She’d enjoyed it immensely. It would be easy to give in to pleasure.

When Lela went to bed, Rip stayed out on the terrace. She left him alone with his thoughts, torn apart by what he’d confided in her. Sleep didn’t come easily; her thoughts were of tragedy, and of the horrors perpetrated by the cartel. But they were also of Rip, and her heart ached for his loss—while her body ached for his touch.

*****

The next morning before breakfast, Rip got a call. “Hey, man…sure… okay. Yeah, we’re fine.”

Lela watched him from across the table, admiring his broad shoulders and how his biceps strained against his shirt sleeves. She needed to get a grip. That kiss had rattled her.

“Okay, will do.” Rip put his phone on the table. “That was my boss Travis.”

“What did he have to say?”

“Get me some photos. He’s got things arranged to get ID made, but wants a current picture. It’s better to have one of you with your disguise on. So he said to dress how you want to look, then get a good photograph. We can do that today, then I’ll transmit it digitally. Shouldn’t be long before we have a new ID for you.”

“Okay, that can be our project for today—after breakfast,” Lela said, and grabbed some eggs from the fridge. “Eggs and bacon?”

“Sure, I’ll make the coffee.”

Rip busied himself with that task, not looking at Lela. He hadn’t mentioned the night before, and she certainly hadn’t brought it up. But when she looked at him, her body responded. For now, she just needed to get through breakfast.

The food was fine, but Lela wasn’t all that hungry. She cleaned things up while Rip finished his eggs. Then she went to get what she’d need. With her disguise in a bag, she returned to find Rip standing on the terrace, looking out at the water.

Lela stared at the wide V of his shoulders and his shapely ass. It was next to impossible not to stare. She was in so much trouble.

Rip turned around. “Ready to go?”

Lela took her place behind Rip on the motorcycle. “We’ll go up to Pasadena,” he said. “That’s the closest city with the kind of place we need. It’s far enough outside of Houston that we should be all right. And I’ll be with you every second.”

The motorcycle sped over the country road, and Lela tightened her arms around Rip. She leaned her head against his back, glad that he was with her. Holding on to him felt so right. The touch made her insides turn to jelly.

Lela couldn’t allow herself to fall for him. She reminded herself that this was all so temporary.

After reaching the city, Rip drove to the main part of town and located the passport photo place. Once inside, a receptionist greeted them. A guy at a desk looked them over. Lela guessed that he was the photographer.

Rip handled the paperwork while Lela went to the ladies’ room to transform her appearance. With the green lenses and her hair smoothed back, she looked quite different. She studied her image in the mirror. She’d taken care that morning to redesign her face with makeup. Even her own mother wouldn’t immediately recognize her.

The photos didn’t take long. The photographer was a rough-looking guy in his late twenties, with tattoos on his arms. The photos were put on a tiny device Rip provided, then the guy handed it over, along with the print copies. On their way out, the receptionist thanked them for the business.

Outside by the motorcycle, Rip plugged the device into his phone via a short, thin cord. “I’ll transmit these to Travis.”

It only took a few seconds to send the pictures. “I haven’t seen any equipment like that before,” Lela said.

“Nope, you wouldn’t have. It’s one of the toys we use in the security business.”

Lela suspected that not every bodyguard had access to the same stuff that Rip did. But she didn’t ask. She figured that what he’d learned as a SEAL came in handy. That was all that mattered.

*****

Late in the evening, Rip got another call from Travis. The exchange was brief.

“Okay, we’re set.” Rip said, turning back to Lela. “The ID is ready for pickup. But we’ll do it in the morning. I don’t want to lurk around at night; it’s trickier to spot your enemies in the dark.”

Early the next morning, Rip told her to pack up. As he instructed, Lela wore her disguise. “It’s time to move around,” he said. “Your new ID opens up new options. Staying in one place too long can give a false sense of security.”

Rip had his duffel with him, and she had her bag. He left the key to the cottage under a rock in the garden. Then Lela hopped on the bike and they headed up the road.

At Magnolia Park, Rip made his way to the bus station and parked the bike. “It’s stashed in a locker here. I have the combination.” He took her hand. “We’re a couple, remember? Stay close.”

Lela looked around. There were rows of painted metal seating, vending machines, and several open ticket windows.

“Why are we picking it up here?” Lela said.

“It’s a neutral location. I’m sure Travis has a contact in Houston, and arranged to have the ID made then turned over to a courier to deliver here for pickup. Mailing isn’t secure. And it’s best if I don’t meet Travis’ contact. This is a good option,” Rip said. “We’ll retrieve the package from the locker and be on our way.”

Rip seemed more alert than usual. Without being obvious, he took in his surroundings. While he’d had a few days alone with Lela, he’d given her some pointers. It was good to be aware if someone was following. There were signals to watch for, and he’d told her a few of them. Plus observing one’s surroundings was vital. He’d called it situational awareness.

That seemed to be what Rip was doing. Lela held tightly to his hand and tried to maintain a casual attitude. This should be a quick, easy stop, then they’d be on their way.

Rip rounded a corner, entering a room with a wall of lockers. There were lots of people; a few were utilizing lockers, some were milling about, and others were seated, either reading or looking bored.

But Rip didn’t walk directly to the locker. He guided her in the direction of the door. “Stay calm,” he said, “but we’ve been made. Look straight ahead. I don’t want to alert him.”

At an even pace, Rip strode to the door out to the buses. “Damn, the dude saw us.”

Rip exited, then immediately turned the corner of the building and started jogging toward the front. Lela ran beside him. “Let’s hope the guy is checking the buses.”

At the sidewalk, Rip didn’t stop. Lela ran across the street with him, barely missing getting hit by traffic. There was a taco joint, and Rip ducked inside with Lela. “To the back,” he said.

Lela quickly followed him through the kitchen, where he nodded to the workers. “Sorry.” Then he shoved open the back door and took off running. Lela kept up for three blocks. Then he turned a corner and leaned against a building.

“That was close.” Rip was breathing as hard as Lela was.

“Is he following? What now?”

Rip took her hand. “I vote for finding a cab and getting the hell out of here.”

“What about the motorcycle?”

“It was due to be returned. I didn’t want to keep it for an extended period. I’ll tell my buddy to have it picked up.”

Along a main street, Rip flagged a cab and ushered Lela into the back seat. “Take us to the Hilton,” he said to the driver.

The radio was on, tuned to a country music station. The noise provided privacy. “So what went wrong?” Lela said.

“My guess is that the photographer recognized you. Wannabes are all over the city. A guy who wants to get in good with the gangs to prove himself. The cartel has ID made routinely, so has a list of contacts in their pocket. My guess is that word got out in the cartel grapevine, and the courier was compromised.”

Lela’s belly tightened with anxiety. No place was safe.

“I spotted more than one guy, so it’s good we weren’t forced to engage with them. We’ll get out of sight then figure out the next step.”

“I’m low on cash,” Lela said. “The Hilton is pricey.”

“I’ve got it covered. I have a company card that is secure. A high-class hotel is safer; less likely we’ll be found there.”

Lela smiled, despite her roiling stomach. “We think alike.”

Rip nodded. “In many ways.”

“Unless you have a trick up your sleeve, and can magically get that new ID out of the locker, I guess we’ll have to hold off on being a couple for a while,” Lela said.

Rip chuckled. “Guess so.” Then his expression turned serious. “There is one other thing, though. That guy will report back to his cartel contact that you weren’t alone, that some military-looking guy was with you. I’d hoped to avoid that for a bit longer. Now they’ll know you have help.”