Page 50 of Wilde Nights in Paradise

“Wilde Security. My brothers.” Another glance in the rearview showed the car had backed off a bit, but was still riding too damn close. “Get into the voice mail.” He told her his access code and waited, palm held out for the phone. She never handed it over.

“Oh my God. Jude, listen.” Her hand shook as she lowered the phone from her ear and pressed the speaker button. Greer’s voice came on the line, booming in the small car.

“…and Cam’s source claims K-Bar hasn’t been seen in a couple days. We have to assume he’s found you, and he’s headed your way. Call me as soon as you get this, and we’ll come up with an exfil plan to get you two the hell out of there. Take every precaution and don’t let Libby out of your sight.”

“Oh my God,” Libby said again. “Are you going to call him?”

Jude lifted his eyes to the rearview. Car was still on their ass, too close for comfort on a nearly empty road in a torrential downpour. He shook his head. “No. If we move you, he’ll just find you again. The safest place for you is Seth’s house. We just have to lose him before we get there.”

“What?”

He tilted his head toward the car. “Behind us. Pretty sure he was tailing us with his headlights off until the rain got too heavy to see the road without them. Hang on. We gotta get to civilization before him. It’s our only shot.”

As he floored the gas, Libby folded her arms around herself. “This can’t be happening.”

“It may be nothing,” he reminded her. “I may just be a paranoid bastard, and if that’s the case, we can laugh about it later. I have trouble believing K-Bar got around all of my brothers’ security measures and found you, but I’m not taking any more chances.”

…

After abandoning the car with a valet at a busy hotel, she and Jude nipped through the lobby, took a side exit, and made a mad dash through parking lots and private yards until they reached a street teeming with tourists who weren’t the least bit daunted by the now-light drizzle of rain. Music floated from the bars lining the street—everything from the mellow tones of an acoustic solo artist to bands blasting covers of popular songs. Chickens pecked along the sidewalk, as undaunted by the crowd as the crowd was by the rain. Jude pulled her past a colorfully dressed busker sitting on the street corner strumming a guitar and playing a tambourine with his foot. Both the man and the old hound sitting patiently at his side wore sunglasses and pirate hats.

Key West. This place was something else.

They slipped into a cozy shop, and Jude hustled her past shelves stuffed with seashell trinkets, snow globes, and cheap jewelry. He grabbed things off the racks as he went, then yanked her into a curtained dressing room. Spinning her toward him, he hiked her shirt over her head before she realized what he was doing.

“Jude, what the hell? We’re being followed! We don’t have time to screw around in a dressing room.”

“Interesting idea for another time,” he said. “But right now, you need to change.” Using his teeth, he broke the tag off a colorful sarong-like dress and shoved it at her, then quickly shed his own wet clothes. Paying no attention to his nakedness, he ripped off the tags on a pair of khaki shorts and a T-shirt that featured a beer bottle sitting under a palm tree and declared “I Heart Key West, Florida” in green letters.

“C’mon, Libs. Hurry.” With that, he dressed and left the fitting room with the price tags in hand. She peeked out, saw him snag a baseball cap and a big floppy hat, his eyes always scanning the windows at the front of the shop, studying the passing crowd on Duval Street. He set the ball cap on his head and smiled charmingly at the cashier as he paid. When he returned a few minutes later, he carried a plastic bag labeled with the shop’s name and started stuffing his wet clothes into it.

“Libby, move. Let’s go.”

She changed into the dress and donned the floppy hat he handed her, then stuffed her own wadded clothes into the bag. “Now what?”

“We’re James and Liza Wilson, honeymooners out for a night on Duval Street. Nothing more.”

“But what about K-Bar? If he—”

“I’m about 98.9 percent sure we lost him before we ditched the car, but we’re gonna stay out, mix in with the crowd for a bit, take a cab to the other side of the island, then hoof it to Seth’s. It’s going to be a long night.”

Numbly, she nodded.

He caught her head in his hands, made her meet his gaze. “I know this place better than I know D.C. He doesn’t. We have the advantage.”

“I just want to go back to the pool and the cat and your laundry all over the floor. I want to be safe.”

“I know.” With more tenderness than she thought he possessed, he brushed his lips across her forehead. “I know, babe. And we will, but I have to make sure the house stays safe first, okay?” His hands dropped to her shoulders, rubbed. “You can do this, Libby. You’re a strong, smart, independent woman.”

“I don’t feel like it. I’m scared.” It seemed like she’d been scared forever, ever since she received the first doll, but this was the first time she’d allowed herself to admit it to anyone. “I really am. Terrified.”

“It’s foolish not to be.”

“You’re not.”

“Like hell I’m not.” He dazzled her with one of his grins. “I’m just damn good at playing pretend. Now let me see the blushing bride, Liza Wilson. What does she do?”

Libby drew in a breath, straightened her shoulders. “Teacher,” she decided.

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