The man in the uniform entered the elegantly appointed office overlooking San Francis...o...b..y. "We've got problems."

"Judging from the way things went down last night, we've got a d.a.m.n train wreck on our hands." Leaning back in his high-back leather chair, he glared at the cop. "How in the name of G.o.d could you let things get this far?"

"I've got my best men on it."

"Some of my clientele are getting impatient. They're getting nervous. Nervous customers don't pay."

"I just need some time-"

"We don't have any more time!" Pulling himself back, he set his hands on the desk and laced his fingers. "She's a waitress, for G.o.d's sake."

The other man flushed. "It's the agent who's causing the problems."

"I don't need to have problems pointed out to me. I need them solved, and I need them solved yesterday. Do you understand?"

"We're doing everything we can."

"And once again you've proven yourself incompetent."

When he saw the other man's eyes go hard, he reminded himself that this man could be dangerous if pushed too hard, so he decided to ease up. Once the crisis was over, he'd deal with him. For now, all he cared about was salvaging the project and his reputation.

"Let me make some calls," he said. "Call in some markers."

The cop shot him a questioning look. "What kind of markers?"

"A marker that might help me get Madrid out of the picture once and for all."

The uniformed man nodded. "In the interim, what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to find them." He picked up the phone. "When you do, I want you to kill them both."

Chapter Thirteen.

Jess woke with a start. For an instant she lay nestled in the warmth of the blankets. But while her body cried out for more sleep, her mind began to churn. The memory of everything that had happened the night before rushed back. Entering the Dorian Rae. Finding the prisonlike cells. Hearing the scream echo through the corridors. Running through dark and narrow pa.s.sageways. The icy slap of the water when she'd jumped overboard to avoid capture.

Everything else was a blur. She didn't remember taking a b.u.mp on the head, but her memory was foggy. She had a vague recollection of Madrid speaking to her, gazing at her with concern in his eyes. Then nothing...

She looked around. Her surroundings were not familiar, but she was pretty sure she was in some kind of RV. There was a small galley. A bench seat and fold-down tabletop. Faux paneling. A narrow door she a.s.sumed led outside. Someone had covered her with blankets.... Then she remembered. But Madrid was nowhere in sight.

A quick physical inventory told her she was unhurt, except for some sore muscles and a lingering fatigue. She snuggled more deeply into the blankets, comfort turning to shock when she realized she was wearing only her panties and bra.

But she knew. Madrid had undressed her. Again. Her clothes had been wet, after all. It wasn't as if he could leave her in them all night. Still, the thought of him seeing her without her clothes made her cheeks heat.

"Morning."

She sat up abruptly at the sound of his voice. He was standing in the doorway, a grocery bag in his arm. "I didn't hear you come in," she said.

"I thought you might like some lunch," he said. "It's been a while since we ate."

"Where are we?"

"In a safe place." His gaze flicked over her, then he met her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." The image of him undressing her came to her unbidden. Jess tightened her hand on the blanket she clutched to her chest and hoped he didn't notice the blush. "I remember going into the water. I don't remember much afterward."

"By the time I pulled you out, you were hypothermic. Semiconscious. I got you to the car and brought you here."

"Thank you." She looked around. "Where is here?"

"An RV park and campground a few miles from the coast."

She nodded, pursed her lips. "And my clothes?"

"In the dryer." He set the bag on the counter in the galley. "I'll get them for you and then fix us something to eat. Then we need to talk."

"I want to take a shower."

"In that case, let me run the engine for a few minutes. It's faster than the generator." Turning from her, he opened a small cabinet above the dining table and pulled a set of keys from a hook inside. "Water will be hot in ten minutes."

When Jess finally got in the shower, the hot water felt delicious cascading over her sore muscles, and she couldn't get enough of it. By the time she turned off the faucets, the water was beginning to run cold.

She found Madrid in the galley. He'd pulled down a fold-out table and set out paper plates. "I made omelets. I hope that's okay."

Jess's stomach grumbled at the sight of the omelet neatly folded on her plate. Next to it was a large gla.s.s of orange juice and two slices of toast. "Nice."

He poured coffee into a plastic cup and handed it to her, his dark eyes meeting hers. "I wouldn't go that far."

Jess took the cup, but she didn't take her eyes from his. He had the longest lashes of any male she'd ever met. "You didn't tell me you cooked."

"I haven't told you a lot of things."

"I bet."

He grinned at her over his cup.

She smiled back. "You must have a lot of hidden talents."

"You have no idea."

She wasn't sure where the banter was coming from. Something to break the tension and stress of the past few days. After all, it wasn't as if they didn't have more important things to discuss. Like what they were going to do about the horrors they'd discovered on board the Dorian Rae.

Gathering her thoughts, she took the bench seat at the settee. He sat across from her and they delved into their food.

It was strange sitting down for something as mundane as a quiet meal. Jess couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten; in the past few days she'd been too scared to even think of it. But looking at the omelet, she was suddenly famished.

Midway through the meal, however, the questions buzzing around in her head would wait no longer. "What are we going to do about what we found last night?"

Madrid forked some of the egg. "Well, we know the Lighthouse Point PD is involved in human smuggling."

"Not to mention murder."

"Goes hand in hand."

Thinking of Angela, Jess shook her head. "How do we stop them?"

"We find the head of the operation and cut it off."

"Someone with the Lighthouse Point PD?"

"Could be, but I doubt it. This is a big operation, Jess. Far-reaching. International. A lot of people are involved. The Lighthouse Point PD simply allows them to operate in the bay."

"They get paid to look the other way."

"Those photos we took last night would have helped." He grimaced. "The camera was in the duffel, though, and I lost the duffel when we got ambushed."

"If they find it, can they ID you?"

He gave her a wry smile. "I'm too careful for that, but we could have used the tools outside." A sign hissed between his lips. "The Dorian Rae is key. I need to find out who owns and operated the ship."

"How do we do that?"

"I put in a call earlier this morning." He set his hand against the cell phone clipped to his belt.

"The MIDNIGHT Agency."

"Yeah."

She thought about that a moment. "Are the police still looking for me?"

"You're a person of interest."

"In other words, I'm still a suspect."

His gaze met hers. "You'd be a h.e.l.l of a lot safer if I turned you over to the feds."

Surprise rippled through her that he would even think of it. "We've been over that, Madrid."

"And my stance on it hasn't changed."

"If I let myself be taken in, you'll lose your ace in the hole."

A hard glint entered his eyes. "You turn yourself in and I won't have to worry about some goon sneaking in here in the middle of the night and cutting your throat."

She hoped he didn't see the shudder that ran through her. "Or I can spend the next week sitting in a jail cell while Angela's real killer is covering his tracks and working to frame me."

"You know I won't let that happen."

A rise of anger shot through her. "I have no intention-"

A knock at the door made them both jump up. Drawing his pistol, Madrid crossed to the door. "Yeah?"

"It's Vanderpol. Open up."

Madrid's hand slid away from the gun. He opened the door, leaned against the jamb. "About time."

A tall man with military-short hair shook the rain from his trench and stepped inside. Dark, intelligent eyes swept from Madrid to her, then back to Madrid. "Cutter will send me to Siberia if he finds out I met with you."

"I'll be lucky to wind up in Antarctica."

"Can't argue with that." His eyes sliding back to Jess, he extended his hand. "Jake Vanderpol."

His hand was large and rough as it encompa.s.sed hers. "Jessica Atwood."

He grasped her hand for an instant too long, then released it and turned to Madrid. "I got the information you needed."

A silent communication pa.s.sed between the two men. Jess suddenly felt like an outsider.

"She knows." Madrid motioned to the table and settee.

Jess sat. Madrid slid in beside her.

"Okay." Vanderpol took the bench opposite them and tugged a small notebook from the pocket of his trench. "The Dorian Rae is owned by a shipping conglomerate based in San Francisco called Capricorn Intercontinental Shipping."

"Owner?"

"High roller by the name of Gabriel Capricorn."

"Clean?"

"Not squeaky, but not quite dirty enough to head up a human smuggling ring."

"If not Capricorn, then who?"

"I got a hit on his VP. Slick guy by the name of Randall Yates."

"What kind of hit?"

"Got busted in 1997 for smuggling in ten illegals from China."

"Female?"