Fields' Guide to Abduction by - (diy ebook reader TXT) 📕

John Brown rubbed his chin and stared at me.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No. Not at all. I’d like to offer you a job.”

“A job?”

“You have access to the right people.”

“The right people?” Aside from Brett, I was pretty sure I didn’t. “What people?”

“People who invest in films and resorts.”

“Not really.”

“Really. If I sent you to Europe or Asia, you’d be invited to all the right parties. You’d rub shoulders with people we can’t hope to approach.”

“And then what?”

“You’d tell me what you hear, give me your impressions, ask the right questions.”

“It sounds dangerous.” I’d had my fill of men like Javier and Ignacio. But more than that, I couldn’t stomach the thought of killing someone else.

“It might be.”

“Danger is overrated.”

Mr. Brown smiled. “True. But you could make a difference. You could help keep drugs out of the hands of children and guns out of the hands of killers.”

Make a difference. I could make a difference. I stood. “I’ll think about it.”

“You have my card.”

“I do.”

“Next time, call before you come.”

I left the office, climbed into my car, and drove away.

It took three blocks (maybe ten) for me to realize I was being followed.

I pressed my foot on the accelerator and flew down the street.

The car behind me did the same.

Damned paparazzi.

The photographer followed me onto the Pacific Coast Highway and drew up next to me.

I looked over, death glare plastered across my face, and saw Jake.

My foot slipped off the accelerator and he shot past me.

Now I followed him, past Malibu and into Oxnard. He pulled into an IHOP parking lot.

IHOP? Pancakes?

The Jake I thought I knew would no more go to an IHOP than he’d wear a plaid sports jacket with a striped tie.

He rolled down his window. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“How about a cup of coffee? You never say no to coffee.” His voice was higher than usual, almost as if he was nervous.

“Fine.” I deserved a few answers.

We entered the near empty restaurant, sat in a booth, and stared at each other.

“What can I get you, folks?”

Jake looked up at the waitress. “Coffee. For both of us.”

“Say, aren’t you that woman who got—”

“Coffee.” The expression on Jake’s face had her stepping backward.

When she disappeared, I asked, “Why are you following me?”

“You followed me.” He handed me a menu. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

I glanced. Pancakes held zero appeal. “I know what I want.”

“What?”

I dropped the menu on the table. “Answers.”

The waitress delivered our coffees.

“I’ll have a spinach and mushroom omelette.”

She jotted a note on her pad. “And for you, hon?”

“Just coffee.”

She tapped her pad as if she disapproved of customers who didn’t eat then walked away.

“You have questions?”

“Yeah.”

“Such as?”

“Did you ever care or was it all just part of the job?”

“I can’t believe you’d ask me that.” His golden aura dulled, hung its head, regarded me with wounded puppy eyes.

I couldn’t either. The question revealed all sorts of vulnerabilities. A week ago, those words would have been impossible. Now, they just formed a question. I waited.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I want an answer.”

“I cared.” He stared into his coffee as if he’d find words of wisdom floating in the caffeine. “I still care.” He shifted his gaze and looked at me with eyes I dared not trust.

I snorted.

“I saved you.”

“If you hadn’t faked your death, I wouldn’t have been in Mexico and in danger.”

He had no response for that. Instead, he dug in his pocket. “I have something for you.”

Whatever it was, I didn’t want it.

He held a fist over the table and waited until I spread my palm. And waited. “Poppy.” The way he said my name combined amusement and frustration.

Fine. I’d play along.

Jake dropped my locket into my palm.

“How did you…?”

“Tracking chip. I found it in the mountains.”

My throat tightened and my fingers closed around my most precious possession. “Thank you.” I glanced up at Jake. “Did you take the chip out?”

“Of course.” His response came too quickly.

I didn’t believe him. Even with a chip, I fastened the chain around my neck. “You work for Mr. Brown?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“He offered me a job.”

Smack! The slap of Jake’s hand against the table made our coffees jump. The other people in the restaurant (two of whom were wearing pajamas) turned and looked at us.

“Absolutely not! You cannot work for him.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward—almost half-way across the table. “It’s too dangerous.”

I leaned back—until my back pressed against the booth. “I’ve proved I’m fairly tough.”

“You got lucky.”

Maybe I had been lucky. But I’d also turned over those account numbers and the file on Venti. I’d made a difference.

I took a sip of my coffee.

Jake leaned even closer. “You’ll get yourself killed.” His voice was low and certain.

“Or you’ll get an actual agent killed.”

This was the man who’d been the center of my life. And that was what he thought of me. In his eyes, I belonged in a screwball comedy. I wasn’t smart enough, or competent enough to be in a thriller. Well. I didn’t have to listen to Jake belittle me. I slid out of the booth.

“Poppy, wait.” He caught my wrist and held it.

I cast a frosty gaze at the spot where his skin touched mine.

“I’m sorry. I get a little emotional when I think of you in danger.”

“Really?”

There it was, that sun-kissed smile—the one that said I was the center of the universe. “Yeah.”

I smiled sweetly and made up my mind. “Get used to being emotional. I’m taking that job.”