Crossing Double (A Heartbreaker Novel Book 3) Page 7

  She said, “Even though you won’t tell me who taught you to cut hair. Or admit that my mother hired you to protect me. So far, you’re the best bodyguard I’ve ever had. I’d never trust one of them to touch my hair.”

  He called out from the sink across the room, “Why’d you let me?”

  “Because Zoila said you have character. A guy with character wouldn’t say he could cut hair when he couldn’t.”

  “You told me all guys are liars.”

  “And you told me not all men lied unless it was necessary. Maybe I wanted you to prove it. Let me help you rinse, and then we’ll get going.” He’d dyed his hair and then cut hers while his color set, so she got up from the chair and joined him at the sink.

  He laid his head back and closed his eyes as she ran the warm water through his hair with a sprayer. He grumbled, “Make sure you get it all out. It can look funky if you don’t.”

  “Can’t have a bodyguard with weird hair.” He actually had lovely hair, soft and silky, but it’d already been trimmed shorter, so they’d have to settle for only the color change. But maybe she’d add some gel to give it a different look.

  He asked, “What are you going to say in the note you leave for Scott?”

  “That we had car trouble and that I’ll get the Beemer back to him. But he might be mad enough with me to call the cops. I’ll probably have to apologize for raising my voice at him on the dance floor. In front of the press. And tell him I want to talk about getting back together.”

  “So, you’re basically going to lie to him.”

  “It’s one of your necessary lies so we don’t die. You can thank me later.” She turned off the water then rubbed a dab of gel between her palms. As she ran her fingers through his hair, spiking it, his gaze locked with hers and held. It was strangely intimate with her hands in his hair. She should look away, but he seemed to be searching for something. “What?”

  “I’m trying to decide if I can trust you.”

  What the heck would he have not to trust her about? “I’m not the one with all the secrets. You are. So maybe I should ask the same of you?”

  He nodded. “You should have before you ran off with me. Now it’s too late. Let’s get going before Scott gets back. Lead the way.”

  What was that supposed to mean? Brent was a giant puzzle she felt oddly compelled to solve. She’d have to wear him down on the long drive ahead of them.

  She wiped the gel from her hands and headed for Scott’s bedroom, where her clothes hopefully still were. As they passed the kitchen, she said, “Why don’t you see if there’s anything to eat. Something we can take along. And I’ll go change.”

  He shook his head. “We need to stick together. In case they come back.”

  He really didn’t trust her. “Fine. But sticking together doesn’t include you watching me change. Just so we’re clear.”

  “Crystal.” His eyes shifted toward hers. “But would you be okay if I searched you for weapons? It’d go a long way to help with my trust issues.”

  “My mother told you about the time I took my bodyguard’s gun, didn’t she? I just did it to show him how bad he was at his job. I wasn’t going to shoot him. And I don’t make a habit of carrying weapons with me to my father’s weddings!”

  He crossed his arms. “Maybe you’re incredibly upset that Scott dumped you. Maybe you wanted revenge, so you armed yourself. Maybe that’s still your plan if we run into him.”

  She shook her head and headed upstairs. “I don’t have enough feelings left for him to commit a crime of passion like in the movies.”

  “Then it won’t hurt to let me search you.”

  She stopped on a small landing and slammed her hands on her hips. “If you search me, then do I get to search you for weapons too?” The thought of running her hands all over his hard body should not have put naughty thoughts into her head. But it did. So sue her. She was on a man hiatus, but that didn’t mean her hormones were going to stop noticing.

  “You wouldn’t know what to do with the weapons you find. Could be dangerous.”

  “Ah! So, you admit you have a gun? And that’s why you wore a suit to work every day? To hide it?”

  He shook his head. “We don’t have time for this. I just told you I have weapons. Do I have permission to search you for any?”

  “Fine. Be my guest.” She held her arms above her head. “My mother has a big mouth. I was a kid when that gun thing happened.”

  He frowned as he knelt before her. “This might seem a little intrusive, but it’s the only way to be thorough. The touching is necessary.”

  “There you go again with the necessary things in life. You could just trust me, you know.”

  He winced. “This way is better. I’ll be quick.” Brent cleared his throat before sliding both of his hands up her right thigh. He lightly brushed against her panties on his way to the other leg, sending a healthy zing of heat racing up her spine.

  Next, he ran his hands down her sides, then across her belly and back, stopping his sweet torture just under her breasts. She hoped he wouldn’t notice how her breathing had become shallow. She hadn’t been touched so intimately in months, and her body was mistaking her bodyguard’s hands for those of an eager lover.

  Or maybe she was the eager one.

  Brent ran the back of his hands along the sides of her breasts and made her heart beat a little faster. Hopefully, her bra would hide the swelling of arousal trying to poke through. Counting from a hundred backward seemed like a good thing to do to take her mind off his big hands roaming her body. But every time he explored a new place, she had to start over again.

  When he was done running his fingers around the hem of her neckline, his knuckles lightly brushing against her chest and leaving her covered in goose bumps, he then inspected the bottom hem of the dress too. Finally, he stood and took a step back. “Sorry I didn’t trust you. Let’s get moving.”

  Her fingers were going numb from being over her head, so she let her hands drop and then shook them out. “That made me crave a cigarette. And I don’t even smoke.”

  She could’ve sworn she heard him mumble behind her, “You and me both.”

  After finding sweats, sneakers, and ball caps for both of them and some water, chips, and fruit to take along on the ride, Brent held out his hand for the keys to the Beemer. “I’ll take the first shift, Sara.”

  “Is your need to drive a male dominance thing or a bodyguard thing?” She looked adorable in her black designer yoga gear that hugged her in just the right places. Even covered with a man’s unzipped hoodie, it did nothing to hide how damn sexy she was.

  “It’s an I’ve-never-driven-a-six-hundred-horsepower-V12-engine-before thing.”

  “Oh.” Sara blinked at him. “Okay. You can drive first, then.” She tossed him the display key fob.

  He reached for the car door to open it when one of the garage doors rumbled beside them.

  Dammit!

  Sara grabbed his arm. “Come with me. Quick.” She raced for the rear of the garage to a set of double doors. One side was open, so Sara jumped inside. He followed behind, closing the door behind them just as Scott’s Jag pulled into the empty garage stall. Brent was surrounded in pitch black next to Sara in some sort of utility closet.

  After her weapons search, and once he could think clearly with the right body part again, he’d taken another step closer to believing Sara wasn’t involved with the money laundering. Her relentless insistence that he was her bodyguard had to either be a majorly good act worthy of an Oscar, or sincere. But how could her mother have known to warn her off? Were both her parents involved? Either way, she wanted to get to her mother’s house for some reason. He was sticking with her to learn what that reason was.

  Amid the closing of car doors, Scott and Brandi talked about a skinny-dip before bed. As their voices faded, Sara grabbed his hand and tugged. “We need to open the garage door while he closes the other if we can.”

  “No. Wait.” He held Sara back. �
��If they go swimming, they might not hear the interior alerts for the garage door and the gate opening. Let’s give them a few minutes.”

  Sara huffed out a breath. “I still think we should—tell me that’s your hand moving up my leg, Brent. Please.”

  His hand wasn’t anywhere near her leg, but she was probably going to scream and give them away if he didn’t stop whatever was crawling on her. “Stand still.”

  “It’s moving higher!” She squeaked. “With sharp claws!”

  Probably a rat.

  He opened one of the doors, letting in a little light from the garage door opener that was still on so he could make a good grab. When a long set of whiskers and two different-colored eyes turned toward him, he let out the breath he held. It was a scrawny little cat. Whose litter box was right beside Sara.

  Sara huffed out a huge breath as she lifted the cat to her cheek. “You scared me to death, Mittens. Why did mean old Scott put your box out here? Did he banish you to the garage?” She looked at him. “Scott inherited Mittens when his grandmother died. He never liked her.”

  The cat meowed loudly as if agreeing with her. Sara said, “Well, you know what, sweet thing? You’re coming with us. He won’t miss you a bit, the big jerk. You can live at my mom’s house in Albuquerque.”

  Brent withheld a sigh. “That’s not a good idea. As a matter of fact, it’s stealing.”

  “He’ll think she ran off when the garage door opened. That was always his hope and why he wanted to put her out here, but I wouldn’t let him.” She grabbed the bag of kibble that was beside the litter box and stepped out of the closet. “Mittens will be no trouble at all. Let’s go.”

  He didn’t have time to argue as he and Sara dashed for the car. He powered on the car but didn’t start it. Then he pressed the garage opener that lifted the door just as silently as before and put the car in gear and pushed while Sara strapped in with her cat.

  It took all his might to push the car out of the garage. Luckily, the driveway tilted toward the street, so the car rolled down the hill while he jumped in. Sara found the buttons on the rearview mirror for the garage door and the gate. By the time they got to the entrance, the gates slowly parted for them. Judging the distance to the house was far enough away, he started the powerful engine and waited until the gates had parted enough to slip out. Once they were on the street, he glanced in the rearview mirror as the gate closed behind them. No lights came on or sirens sounded.

  If they were lucky, Scott wouldn’t notice the note or the car missing until morning. If not, he was probably calling the cops on them. They had no way to know. Ditching the car for another in the morning was their best plan. Maybe Sara would fall asleep later so he could text Rick and arrange for another vehicle.

  He pulled in the intoxicating new-leather car smell into his lungs. Maybe he’d get a Beemer himself one day. It was a sweet ride.

  He glanced at Sara, who had the purring cat on her lap. “That’s a small cat.” But it was cute in a weird way with its different-colored eyes and its random white splotches all over its black body. It was almost polka-dotted.

  “She was the runt of her litter back in the day. And is more like a dog than a cat. Where are we going?”

  “We need to figure out where they sell paper maps so we can stay off the interstate. Any ideas?”

  Sara reached for her purse but stopped. “I was going to google it. It’s tough not to have a phone. If I were a paper map, where would I be?”

  “While you’re thinking, can you look for the car’s manual and figure out how to turn the GPS off on this thing? We don’t want the police tracking Scott’s stolen car.”

  “Good idea.” Sara opened the glove box and dug out the manual. Then she turned the radio on. “If Scott reports that I stole his car, it’ll make the news. Guaranteed.”

  “Let’s hope we get a big enough head start tonight before that happens.” He stepped on the gas and marveled at how the car jumped to life beneath them. Too bad he couldn’t afford to get pulled over, or he’d have punched it on the highway later to see what it could really do. But they still needed a map.

  He tried to think back to when he and his mother lived in their car on and off over the years. Gas stations used to have maps, but did they still? His mom used to have an atlas with maps of the whole country. What he wouldn’t do to have that now, because he needed to talk to Rick. Figure out where to meet up and exchange cars. Without a map, that was going to be tough. And it was only nine ten. Sara probably wouldn’t sleep for hours. How was he going to sneak in a few texts without her catching him?

  While Sara poked buttons on the navigation console, he spotted a big discount department store ahead. “Maybe they have maps.”

  Sara looked up from her task. “Even if they don’t, could we use our money to splurge on one thing?”

  He pulled into the parking lot and found a space away from the building and hopefully any cameras. “If you’re going to ask for makeup, princess, you can forget it.”

  Sara rolled her eyes. “We don’t have toothbrushes. Or toothpaste. I have a thing about clean teeth.”

  So, did he. “Yeah. I’ll grab that. Anything else?”

  “Yes. Could you please buy yourself a better attitude while you’re in there?”

  Ignoring her smart comment because they needed to hurry, he got out and headed for the big sliding doors. Tooth stuff and an atlas then they could get back on the road. But not before he called Rick to get an update. He took out his phone and dialed the number, but it went directly to voicemail. He left a message, quickly updating his friend on what they were going to need, asked him to look into camping to stay off the road during the day and off the grid, and then hung up.

  As he headed for the music and book section, Sara’s words about his attitude echoed in his brain. And poked at his conscience. Sara hadn’t complained once while he’d dyed and cut her long pretty hair or when she’d had to walk barefoot. Or even when she had to eat fast food for dinner.

  Her fiancé had just run off with her best friend, and now her father’s criminal business partners were trying to kill them. And she’d even subjected herself to a search to satisfy his mistrust.

  He’d been too quick to judge her. She wasn’t the spoiled princess he’d assumed she was based on social media searches. She’d kept her cool under pressure and was being braver than most would in their situation.

  Maybe he would get himself a better attitude about Sara. But he’d not allow his attraction to cloud the fact that he might have to arrest both her parents. As much as he was starting to like and respect Sara, she’d hate him at the end of the mission. Better to keep emotional distance for both their sakes. But they needed to operate as a team if they were going to succeed.

  He’d google Sara and see if she’d ever mentioned what her favorite candy bar was in one of her many interviews. She’d never know he’d done that, and it might win him some much-needed team points with her.

  Chapter 7

  Sara tossed the car’s manual back into the glove box. She’d turned off navigation so they couldn’t be tracked that way, but there wasn’t a way to disable the GPS that she could find. But she did figure out that a person could special order a hidden refrigerator in the backseat behind the armrest with room for champagne bottles to chill. Hardly helpful to their quest, but a pretty fantastic factoid.

  Brent, big, hulking, and looking like he was a trainer in a gym rather than her father’s estate manager, opened his door and passed her a plastic bag. “Got a map. Why don’t you find us the best way to your mom’s house in Albuquerque?”

  “Okay.” She laid the map on the dash and then dug through the bag. She found two little kits filled with travel-sized everything, including deodorant and floss, which she’d thought of right after he’d left. “These are perfect.” She kept digging until she found a tiny metal bowl with paw prints on it. “For Mittens?”

  He started the car and headed out of the parking lot. “Figured she needed
that to drink out of.”

  That was an incredibly sweet thing for such a gruff guy to do. “Mittens, look. You have your very own bowl. Brent’s not mean like Scott. You two might become good friends.” Mittens blinked her brown and blue dual-colored eyes open and then went right back to sleep on Sara’s lap.

  Brent grunted. “I prefer dogs. There’s something else in there. I already ate mine.”

  She stuck her hand inside the bag and felt around until it landed on something wrapped in paper. When she drew it out, she couldn’t help her grin. “A peanut butter cup? My favorite. Thanks, Brent.”

  He nodded and pointed at the map. “Route, please.”

  “Give me a second here. I’m not Siri.” She enjoyed her chocolate-and-peanut-butter treat as she paged through her spiral map of the US. She searched for small roads that led east. “It’s going to be hard to stay off bigger roads until we get around Palm Springs. Head that way and look for Highway 62. We’ll figure it out from there.”

  Mittens woke up, stretched, and then hopped over to Brent’s lap. Sara was just about to scoop Mittens up and put her back on her lap when Brent’s big hand gently stroked the cat stretched out across his legs. “Did you figure out how to turn off the GPS?”

  She shook her head. “Short of smashing the console to bits, no. But even if we did that, we might break something we need.”

  “Let’s take our chances for now and hope Scott won’t call the cops until the morning. Have you searched your purse and wallet for anything that shouldn’t be there? Like a tracking device?”

  She hadn’t even thought of that. “No. Let me look.” She rummaged through her purse and found her watch that she’d taken off because it didn’t match her wedding outfit. As she strapped it on, she noted the time. It was nine thirty. It took about twelve to thirteen hours to drive to Albuquerque, but that was on the interstate. Who knew how long it would take on smaller roads.

  Brent asked, “So who were Eleanor and Snickerdoodle again?”

  She smiled. “You mean Eloise and Skipperdee. Eloise is a fictional little girl who lives on the very top floor of the Plaza Hotel in New York City. With her nanny, her dog, Weenie, and her turtle, Skipperdee. Her mother is always away, so she’s close with her nanny and gets into all kinds of mischief. She’s a poor little rich girl. I used to love when my mom read those books to me.”