says there’s nothing between them. But she’s lying. And she’s doing it badly. Norway got thirty seconds alone with her phone and grabbed some photos.”
That was encouraging. “Anything incriminating?”
“No nudity, but they do look intimate. Gerhard’s got an arm around her shoulders, and his expression says he slept with her. We’re combing through social media now.”
“Good. Keep me posted.”
“How are things at your end?”
Crista emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was still wet but combed straight. She’d washed her face, and she was dressed in Jackson’s white and maroon U of Chicago soccer jersey. It hung nearly to her knees, which were bare, as were her calves.
“Pants didn’t fit?” he asked.
“Huh?” asked Mac.
“Fell off,” she said.
“Stay safe,” Jackson said to Mac, setting down his phone.
“Who’s that?” asked Crista, moving to the sofa. She took the end opposite to Jackson and tucked the hem of the jersey over her knees.
“Mac.”
“He works for your agency?”
“He does.”
She nodded. She looked curious but stayed silent.
“Are you afraid to ask?” he guessed.
She flicked back her damp hair. “I’m not afraid to ask anything.”
“They found some pictures of Vern and Gracie.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“They’re not specifically incriminating—”
“I know they’re not.”
“But they are suggestive of more than a business relationship.”
“If suggestive is all you’ve got, then let me go.”
“It’s all we’ve got so far.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve only been chasing this lead for five hours.”
She heaved an exaggerated sigh.
“You hungry?” he asked.
He was, and he doubted brides were inclined to eat heartily before their weddings.
“No,” she said.
“You really need to stop lying.”
“You’re criticizing my behavior?”
“You’re not going to help anything by starving.”
He rose, taking the few steps to the small kitchen and popping open a high cupboard.
“You’re not going to make me like you,” she said from behind him.
“Why would I want to make you like me?”
He wanted to convince her not to marry Vern. No, scratch that. He couldn’t care less if she married Vern. No, scratch that, too. Vern didn’t deserve her. If Jackson was sure of one thing in all this, it was that Vern didn’t deserve a woman like Crista.
“To make me more docile and easy to manipulate.”
Jackson located a stray bag of tortilla chips. “Docile? You? Are you kidding me?”
Her tone turned defensive. “I’m really quite easy to get along with. I mean, under normal circumstances.”
He also found a jar of salsa. It wasn’t much, but it would keep them from starving. If they were lucky, they’d find a few cans of beer in the mini fridge.
He turned back.
She froze, her expression a study in guilt, his phone pressed to her ear.
He swore, dropping the food, taking two swift steps to grab it from her. How could he have made such an idiotic mistake?
“Nine-one-one operator,” came a female voice through the phone. “What is your emergency?”
He hit the end button. “What did you do?”
“Tried to get help.” Her words were bold, but she shrank back against the sofa.
Jackson hit the speed dial for Mac.
“Yeah?” Mac answered immediately.
“I have to move. This phone is compromised. Tuck’s dock, zero eight hundred.”
“Roger that,” said Mac.
Jackson pushed open a window and tossed the phone overboard.
“That was stupid,” he said to Crista.
“I was trying to escape. How was that stupid?”
“You were reckless. I was stupid.”
He grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet.
“Hey,” she cried.
“Listen, I’m still not going to hurt you, but you had no way of knowing that for sure. I could have been a vengeful jerk.” He tugged her to the bridge, holding fast to her upper arm while he started the engine and engaged the anchor winch.
Her tone turned mulish. “I had to try.”
“I shouldn’t have given you the chance.”
“You let your guard down.”
“I did. And that was stupid.”
Not to mention completely unprofessional. He wasn’t sure what had distracted him. Their kiss? Her legs? The sight of her in his jersey?
He’d have to worry about it later. Right now, he couldn’t take a chance on an overzealous 911 operator tracing their location. Anchor up, he opened the throttle, and they surged forward.
She swayed, but he held her steady.
“You were trying to be nice,” she said.
He struggled not to laugh at that. “You’re trying to make me feel better about being stupid?”
“I’m saying... I’m not unappreciative of you offering me something to eat.”
“Well, I’m definitely unappreciative of you compromising our location.”
He set a course north along the coastline. His friend Tuck Tucker owned a beach house north of the city. Tuck wouldn’t mind Jackson using his dock. He might
