Love On the Run Pt. 01

Her hands were shaking.

She packed her bag, dressed once more in baggy jeans and a hoodie over a tank top. It felt silly to pack the dress and sandals but they reminded her of Julian. Aw, hell, there was time for one more time before she had to meet her contact.

She checked out of the motel and found herself walking up the street to his hotel. She'd miss the way his hair fell into his eyes when he woke up, the way he smelled. Even here at the edge of civilization he'd brought expensive shower gel that smelled orgasmic. He liked to sing in the shower, his baritone crooning out Sam Cooke standards. At dinner he always used too much pepper on his salad and insisted she order dessert just so he could sneak a bite.

Damn, she had a bad crush, Jessie realized, stopping and blinking. Maybe she should turn and go, have a beer and wait. Or maybe he'd go with her. Someone had paid him to follow that American tourist, but maybe he was down here looking for adventure. Maybe she could confess who and what she was and he'd...

What? Accept her paltry savings of five thousand dollars to be her body guard? What if there was a reward on her, and it was higher? He might turn her in for it. No, she shook her head, standing in the street. Julian was a good man, even if he was a mystery.

She, on the other hand, was a criminal running from the police, the FBI, the DEA, and Diego's men. No sane person would want to share that risk, not for some good sex and conversation, and that was all they really had.

Jessie raised her chin, debating. She could be adult about this, and go inside the blue adobe building, knock on his door, seduce him, and leave. Resolved, she opened the door and passed through the lobby to the stairs.

He was on the third floor and she climbed slowly, pausing at the second when her nerves faltered. She caught sight of an open door and something about it caught her attention. It was one of the rooms belonging to the American couples. She'd seen them as she and Julian came and went, and now the second door down was open, though it bore a do not disturb sign.

She caught a flash of movement and some curiosity made her step into the hall and creep closer. Julian was inside, and he was on a phone.

It was his work, and she shouldn't pry, but Jessie crept closer until she could hear him.

"Yeah, George, it's not her. I thought it was, but it's not. I don't get it; right age, right height, blonde, looked like her but her ID checks out." Julian fell silent, still pawing through things. "I don't know, my guy said Costa was meeting her in this commune to take her to Argentina."

Her heart froze. Sam Costa was her contact, the man taking her to Argentina.

"No, look, I have another week. I don't want to be riding that fucking desk looking over cold cases of damned coke heads. I'll keep looking."

Her heart stopped short for a couple beats and then began to hammer.

Julian was a DEA agent, and he was down there looking for her.

He heard the scampering footsteps and panicked. Maybe the American couple had come back early. He disconnected with his boss and Julian locked the door and ran down the stairs in time to see Sandra running.

Shit. She'd probably been coming to see him and found him inside the other woman's room. She'd never asked what he did for a living after the first time he'd brushed her off, but down here men like him were mercenaries with little or no morals. He'd let her think him one, and now she probably thought the worst.

He ran after her but she ducked down into an alley behind a tour bus, and he lost her. God damn it! He smoothed his hair back and frowned. Fuck, she probably thought he was stalking the American.

In a perfect world, the American would have turned out to be Jessica Andrews. He would have gladly turned her over to other agents if it meant more time with Sandra. She was driving him crazy.

Normally he was the first to leave, the one pushing women away, but with her he had to fight for her attention. She was smart, confident, and direct out in the street but in bed...he nearly groaned at the memories. She was innocent and sensual, her appetite matched his perfectly but she was always unsure. The combination was like a drug and he didn't want to quit.

He'd let her cool down, and took it as a good sign she was upset. Maybe it meant she was as twisted around over him as he was over her. And maybe, just maybe, when he found her, he'd find out just who Sandra really was.

She'd gotten sloppy, and it was her own damn fault. It was just her damn, dumb luck that the first time she let down her guard she'd ended up sleeping with the enemy. Julian was there to drag her back to prison, and she just couldn't.

It had been so long, no one would believe her story. Even if she and Julian had actually had someone, her past was too unbelievable. Jimmy had made inappropriate comments, tried to open the bathroom door while she'd showered. She'd never told anyone, if she'd told Henry he would have killed Jimmy for her. But the night that changed her life forever Jimmy took it too far.

She'd come home disheveled, her panties in her purse, with the shit-eating grin of a girl who'd finally known physical love. Jimmy had been full of hate, and she'd been full of panic. She hadn't meant to shoot him, butt she did, and while he was still bleeding she'd gabbed her backpack and gym bag, and run to Henry.

He'd promised to help her, but she knew it was all too far gone. So she'd kissed him, they'd cried, and given her enough money to get away. At first she'd gone by bus to Atlanta, another to Texas. She'd crossed the border in the same raft someone from the other side had just used. She'd traveled down to Honduras and spent some time working.

Then had come the assassins. The first she hadn't meant to shoot either. But by the second and third she'd gotten the hang of it. The horror of that is what made her learn to move faster, run further, to never have to face that choice again. She kept moving south, trying to outrun the wolves behind her until she had enough money and resources to get far enough away, out of their clutches. And soon she'd be in Portugal, where the cartels held no power. Soon she would be safe.

She'd walked around, keeping to the edge of town, killing time. Finally she made her way to the boat landing, quiet now that it was dark, and a man who could only be her contact was waiting for her.

"Costa?"

"You the Canadian?" He asked in accented English, going by the cover story she'd let bleed through the grapevine.

"Yes. You got the papers?"

"You got the money?"

They both produced envelopes and traded, looking over the contents in the moonlight.

"Good. I take you to Argentina tomorrow night."

"No, it has to be tonight. Someone knew you were meeting me, I have to go tonight." She didn't know if Costa had sold the information or let it slip. Whatever the case she had to change his plans up and shake Julian loose.

"It will cost you extra," he said, eyeing her suspiciously.

"How much?"

"Five hundred."

"I'll have it."

He turned and looked at the dark forest. "Meet me at midnight, go two kilometers into the forest along the path, exactly two. At the fork go right and I'll be waiting. If you have the money I'll be your guide."

"Midnight, got it."

He slunk off into the night and she checked her watch. Three hours. She just had to open up her bra and get the rest of the money, then sew it back up, all while laying low. Maybe she could find Julian, a dark part of her mind whispered, after all, he doesn't know you're Jessica Andrews.

No, she couldn't risk it. She'd stay by the river, use one of the lights on the dock for sewing, sit there bored for three hours. Time to be smart.

Two hours later she thought she'd go mad. It wasn't the boredom; life on the run was a constant dance between too much excitement and mind-numbing boredom. No; it was the thought that just a few hundred feet away was a forbidden sex god.

"Sandra."

She jumped to her feet and there Julian was, as if conjured from her thoughts. He wore all black, his hair was damp and pulled back, and his blue eyes were hard. Standing beneath the tin-covered lamp he was a study in bare light and dark shadow, looking lethal. Her heart began to pound and fear kept her rooted to the spot.

"Sandra, I'm sorry. It wasn't what you think, whatever you think. Someone paid me to find someone, a girl who's in danger. I thought that young woman was that girl, the one you caught me watching the night we met, but it's not. I'm beginning to think she's not here, and you know what? I'm glad. If she's not it means I can spend more time with you. The girl I'm after is a job, just a job."

God, he talked a good talk, and sounded like he was telling the truth. "I lied," she said quickly, shooting to her feet and backing up, but for every step she took back he matched her, stalking forward. "I'm not meeting my friends here. Well, I am, but one of them is my boyfriend."

He laughed. "Nice try, babe, but I know you haven't been with any man for a long time. Even if you had a boyfriend, he doesn't know what the hell to do with you. Why are you running from me? It's just a job. Find her, protect her. I'm not the kind of man who would ever hurt a woman, and I'd never take a job asking me to."

She believed him, but though he might think sending her off to prison was helping her, Jessie knew better. It was almost funny enough to laugh, thinking that all while he had no clue she was the woman he was looking for. Jessie's back hit a pole and she stopped, but he kept coming closer.

"Sandra," he said, and all she could do was cry out when he swooped down and kissed her.

It was furious and fast between them. Jessie was full of need and adrenaline, and Julian was desperate to prove to her any way he knew he was being as honest as possible. He cursed at her clothes and she tore at his. Neither one broke the kiss, and it was pure need between them.

She was mad, and when her pants were off and he lifted her, she complied, wrapping her arms and legs around them. Julian had enough presence of mind to pull out a condom and roll it on when he drew his cock free of his pants, and then he slammed in.

She gasped, and Jessie arched her back. Her clit rubbed on the hard rasp of his jeans and her breasts pressed to his bare chest. She was surrounded by sensation inside and out. Digging her nails in, she clung to him as he pressed her to the light pole and thrust hard and deep.

It was a quick ride, and he seemed so deliciously thick, so perfectly deep. She couldn't hold back and sprinted up the climb to a glorious climax. Julian, straining, held back until he could join her. It was over in minutes, but the intensity drained them both and they collapsed to the ground gracelessly.

Jessie leaned back against the pole as he extricated himself, and they sat facing each other, panting. "Where are my pants?" was all she could think to say.

"I think I threw them in the river. I'm sorry, but they were ugly. Why hide your body?"

She glared at him. "Seems to me a woman alone can be very easily accosted."

Julian's grin was feral. "Seems to me you liked that little game." He stood and zipped up his jeans. "Neither of us did anything we didn't want to do. If it makes you feel better, I threw my shirt in the river too."

Sighing, she stood, found her bra and shirt, and put them on. From her gym bag she found fresh panties and her backup pair of jeans. Well, at least now there was less weight even with the dress and new shoes. As she pulled the jeans from the overstuffed bag everything fell out.

"Damn it."

"I'll get that," Julian offered.

"No!"

She dove to stop him but it was too late. Her new ID had fallen from the envelope and there was a driver's license from Argentina for a Susan Fritz staring up at them.

Julian froze.

She quickly got her jeans on and grabbed her hoodie, shoving him aside to scoop everything back up into her bag.

He grabbed her arm, eyes wide in shock. "It's you! My god, you're Jessica Andrews! Sam Costa was meeting you with this ID. Why did you lie to me?"

For a moment she stared at him, thinking the answer was patently obvious. He was frozen, as lost as she, and neither one broke eye contact or so much as blinked.

That old instinct to survive rose up and she took him by surprise with her left hook. It was pathetic, he was built like a tank and her fist glanced off his jaw, probably hurting her more than him. Just as she wondered what the hell to do next a pop rang out in the night, the tell-tale sound of a gun.

Julian grabbed her upper arm Jessie swung her arm like a windmill while twisting her body, breaking loose. With her shoes half-on she scooped up the open bag and sprinted into the woods. She ran at top speed, something she'd done many times and had spent years training for.

Unfortunately, it seemed Julian was no slouch, and he was hot on her heels. She'd tried to lose him on the path but it was hopeless, so she settled for dodging through the coniferous trees. They were everywhere, prickling at her and catching on her bag, her skin, her clothes. She zipped up her bag and struggled into her hoodie for protection.

Behind her Julian was cursing, the rough branches scratching his bare chest and arms. She ran in circles, doubling back. On her first day there she'd gotten the lay of the land of the forest and knew it well. Sometime long after she hit her runner's high, she lost him, and the forest went quiet. He'd stopped to regroup, she assumed, so Jessie slowed and tried to keep silent.

Instinct had her sling the bag over her shoulder and climbing the nearest mature tree that could support her weight. She went high and caught movement; Julian was heading back to the river towards town. Perfect for her, but he had no idea what he was planning, so she had to move fast.

Jessie wasted no time and scrambled down, working through the trees to the rendezvous point. She could only hope Costa was early and ready to go. They had maybe a thirty-minute lead now and she had to hold it.

She found Costa sitting, slumped against a tree, likely sleeping. Looking around she watched carefully for any movement in the trees and when she saw none she stepped forward. Coming around in a circle she stopped, along with the beat of her heart.

In the middle of Costa's forehead was a small black circle with drying blood trailing. Behind him, his brains were blown out on the old tree, the exit wound huge, suggesting a large caliber rifle.

The DEA were many things, but assassins they were not. Julian had a sidearm, not a rifle...but Diego's men liked using hunting rifles suited for ten-point bucks even in a continent where as far ash knew such creatures did not dwell. The realization hit her and instinct made her drop to the ground just as another bullet whizzed overhead, exploding a small piece of the tree.

She scrambled to her hands and knees and dove into the cover of the trees, crawling under some low bows. She had no gun, nothing but her wits. She knew enough to know the shot came from within fifty yards, and came from the southeast.

If she left her bag she could make it quietly enough around in a circle, come up behind. It would be better to have a distraction, so she began to look for a rock to throw.

"Jessica!"

Inside she cursed in five languages. Julian had made it back surprisingly fast, and was moving stealthily down the path, blithely unaware of the shooter.

If she let him walk into the ambush, it would provide the distraction she needed and end one worry. But, damn it, Julian just wanted to arrest her, not kill her, and she'd be damned if she let an innocent man die.

Rolling her eyes to God she questioned what she'd done to deserve this and blushed at the reminder.

"Get down! Shooter!" she shouted in a stage whisper, giving away her position.

As expected, a shot took out a branch above her. She scrambled back, turned on her belly, and made it to another tree. Julian had fallen silent, and once she got two trees away she saw the path was empty. Where the hell had he gone?

Seconds later there was the sound of a gunshot, louder this time, a sidearm. Oh, God, what if Julian had traipsed off after the shooter only to be shot in his own surprise attack? She wanted to come out of cover, run to them, but survival instinct kept her hunkered down.

Long minutes later the crunch of a branch was her only warning, and someone grabbed her ankle and pulled. She came out kicking only to have her legs pressed down, Julian atop her, panting.

"I got him, and I'm willing to make a deal."

That stopped her planned attack to scratch his eyes out and she laid back, calculating. "What? What the hell is going on!?"

He pinned her hands and draped his body across hers, and she went still, fighting panic and a strange tang of arousal. "Eight years ago we sent an agent after you. You ran before he could explain why we've been trying to contact you. I want five minutes. Listen to me for five minutes, and if you don't agree with what I have to say, I'll escort you to the Argentina myself." He let her go then and climbed to his feet.

"Why?" She sat up while he loomed over her. "Why would you help me escape?"

"We spent the better part of four days together, and still you have to ask?"

She blushed and drew her knees up to her chest. "Five minutes."

"I read your file. No one cares about the three men Diego sent, just like no one will care about the one I just took care of. And your step-father...you're not going to prison, Jessica."

"Jessie," she said automatically, trying to judge his veracity.

He smiled and smoothed his loose hair back. "Jessie suits you. My boss at the DEA has agreed to a deal. We don't want you, we want Diego. If you come in and help us find the money, you'll be given immunity. You can resume your life back home."

Hope shone brightly for a long moment, but then it dashed on the rocks. "What money?"

Her life had taken a very strange turn, Jessie thought as she tried to process the information. Her step-father, a lousy low-level dealer who worked for a Cuban importer, had somehow gone over his bosses head and made a deal with Diego, the Brazilian kingpin trying to kill her. Five million dollars had been in their little tract house at some point, payment for Jimmy to assemble a team, kill his Cuban boss and other dealers loyal to him, then take his place. She never knew it was there, or she sure as hell would have taken it with her, to live life on the run in style.

The money was somewhere, and Julian had the crazy idea that it would draw Diego out. She was doubtful, five million American was nothing to a man like Diego, which meant there had to be something else, something they were all missing.

It had taken three phone calls to prove it to her, and she'd listened in while he made three people from the DEA swear she'd never see the inside of a jail. Strangely, Julian never said she was on the line, nor had she spoken to anyone directly, but it had been enough for her to begin to trust him. admittedly, that had come after studying the phone number searching on her own phone to prove it was a DEA field office in Miami.

They gone to his hotel, picked up his things, and then took his rental car. He pointed it north, away from Argentina, and they'd been driving in the dark for a solid hour in silence now.

"Talk to me," she finally said after they stopped for coffee and gas.

"About what?" he tersely asked.

"Anything. I've spent ten years on my own. The last few days with you is the most human interaction I've had since I was seventeen."