Page 53 of Grave Peril

“We didn’t ride the Boardwalk Bullet yesterday,” Rip said, since he’d read about it in a brochure. The wooden roller coaster was ninety-six feet tall, and boasted an exhilarating first drop of ninety-two feet. It reached a speed of over fifty miles per hour.

Lela wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think so. I’m kind of maxed out on the thrill rides for now.”

Rip doubted pushing the ride’s features would matter. Lela was right. He was really stalling. As much as he needed to keep her off the radar, an extended stay at a public venue wouldn’t be sufficient. But he dragged his feet over leaving—especially because of the night he’d shared with her.

It wouldn’t be the same afterward. Rip was a realist. A getaway wasn’t real life, no matter how good it had been. He’d have to let go and get back to business.

Lela suggested brunch at the Bayside Grille. It was a cozy place that served breakfast and lunch. The menu included the usual fare, and the coffee was passable.

Rip ate, wishing he could have a future with Lela. But on the heels of his hope came a list of reasons why it wouldn’t work. At the top of the list was the guilt he’d harbored for so long; it was a part of him. After failing so badly at love the first time, he didn’t know if he was capable of trying again.

And he wasn’t sure if Lela wanted that anyway. She hadn’t spoken of it. The intimacy and pleasure they’d shared would be a wonderful memory, but that was all. He had his doubts about whether it could be more than that.

Rip was rough around the edges, yet the wall around his heart had begun to crumble. He was at a loss on how to deal with that change, so he refocused on the task of keeping Lela alive. That was what mattered most, along with her happiness.

*****

After the late breakfast, Lela opted to go back to the boat. “It’s a shame to waste our last few hours. Let’s go out in the harbor one more time.”

She stood on deck beside Rip, letting the breeze blow through her hair. The sun warmed her skin, and she breathed in the fresh air.

Soon this would be over, and Lela would have to move to another location. She’d be on the run with no end in sight. Her body tingled at thoughts of the night with Rip.

She wanted more of the same. And even when this was all over, she didn’t want to leave him.

Yet Rip hadn’t said he loved her. Nor had he asked for any commitment. He’d given her untold pleasure and he’d stolen her heart. She wondered if he knew that.

More than once, Lela had nearly voiced her feelings. But she’d held back, not sure it was the right thing to do. She had reservations about whether she’d be good at a relationship. She’d botched her first marriage so badly. It hadn’t been all her fault, but still…

Lela wasn’t the docile type, and maybe not the marrying kind either. But Rip didn’t seem to need a stay-at-home type, a quiet, obedient woman. Based on her experience with him, he preferred his life wild, his motorcycles fast, and his women passionate. He was a man who could handle strength in a woman. So maybe it could work.

But doubt won out, and she withheld her deeper emotions. Rip didn’t need to know. When he moved on, he could do so without regret. He’d held her when she needed it, kept her safe, and made incredible love to her. She’d always have that to remember.

Rip put his arm around Lela, and she smiled. “It’s so beautiful out here. I wish we could just keep going, out of the harbor and far away.”

But that was a dream that wasn’t going to come true. Wherever she went, her enemies would find her. She had to face them and she had to win—if only she knew how.

When Rip navigated back to the dock, he tied the boat up. Lela went to the living room, and he sat beside her. “It might be a good idea to check the news and see what the authorities are up to.”

The case against Senator Ortiz and Lela’s disappearance were mentioned on several stations. Most of it was rehashed information. One question continued to hold the media’s interest: Where is the missing paralegal? Pleas were made that if anyone had seen her to contact the authorities immediately.

The FBI had given a press conference. Dressed in suits, and looking like pillars of the community, the agents stood at the podium with serious expressions. The reporters shouted questions, which one of the men fielded as best he could.

The basic gist was that the FBI had a team on it. The situation had been given priority status, and the agency had worked relentlessly to recover the key witness in the upcoming Ortiz trial. While each agent’s demeanor was no less than professional, the case was full of holes.

How did they lose Lela Cabelo? Is there an investigation into the deaths of the two FBI agents? Are there any details about who was responsible? Was it a drug-related incident, or is it confirmed that the deaths were connected to the Ortiz case?

The questions continued, but the answers were sparse. The FBI’s standard reply was either “No comment” or “We’re still investigating.”

At the end of the broadcast, one of the agents looked directly at the monitor. “Lela Cabelo, if you’re listening, contact the bureau without delay. Your life is in danger. Our goal is to keep you safe. Please…we want to hear from you.”

Lela clicked the remote and stared at the blank screen. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “I hate this.”

Rip didn’t interrupt.

“I want this to be over.” Lela leaned against the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. “Maybe I should do as they ask. If I turn myself in, I’ll be protected until the trial…then it won’t matter.”

Lela looked at Rip. “I want to. I really do. It would solve everything. My family wouldn’t be in danger. Ashlee could go home. You could…go on with your life. It would put a stop to all the violence.” Lela stood and walked over to the window. “Dammit, if only I could.”

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