Free Gone Tropical by Robena Grant

She was stubborn, a real pain in the butt. But there was something about the woman that made him want to protect her.
    Yeah, like I want, or need, to protect every woman in trouble .
    He held his head in his hands and closed his eyes against the spinning room. Bright lights played patterns behind his closed eyes. He wouldn’t let the darkness envelop him. He shuddered at the memory, hearing again the screech of brakes, the sound of metal crunching against metal, bullets spraying the windshield, glass shattering, her scream, and then something warm splattering over his face. Blood…
    Someone was calling his name .
    “Jake, Jake, are you okay, man?”
    He shook his head and opened his eyes. Would he ever forget? Could he ever forgive himself? He stood, slammed his fist into his hand. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
    “The visions again?” Sarge asked.
    Jake nodded and inhaled deeply. He felt sick to his stomach. “Yeah, you never forget.” He tried to reorient himself.
    “You okay, really?”
    Sarge’s voice seemed to come from within a deep well. Jake shook off the aftereffects of the memory. He took another deep breath. No sense in explaining. His old friend knew what he went through. He knew not to make a big thing of it, or to try to reach out to him. It was time to get back on the job. “I’m fine.” He squinted. “Seems like there’s more to our little lady than meets the eye. She threw us a curve ball.”
    “You can say that again.” Sarge gave a dry chuckle. “Bloody hell, a complete stranger, and a bikie to boot…thought that whole pickin’ up the waiter bit was an act. You don’t think she’s a wild one, do you?”
    “No idea. Not based on what her father told me.” Amy’s lush curves in that little black dress flashed before him. He switched off that part of his brain. Protect the woman, and get the money. Helm had said it had to be in that order, and there was no way he’d mix business and pleasure. Amy’s mouth flashed before him and he groaned.
    “What’s up?” Sarge asked.
    Jake shrugged. “I’m taking a shower to wake up and then driving over to the airport car rental agency. She’d have used a credit card. We’ll get a fix on the vehicle. You’ve got your I.D. right? You can pull some strings?”
    Sarge nodded. “We’re going to Bungumby Lodge after we get the rental info?”
    “Damn straight.”
    “Tonight?” Sarge asked and stifled a yawn.
    “No reason to rush, she’s leaving in the morning. We’ll get a good night’s sleep.” But first he needed a shower. The heat of the tropics, and the frustration of dealing with Amy Helm, caused his skin to itch.
    ****
    Amy shot Brian a quick look. He must be tired. He’d given her his bed last night, and he’d slept on the couch. She’d let him nap the first couple of hours, knowing she wouldn’t lose her way, or cause an accident, if she didn’t have to exit off and on the highway.
    They’d switched off at the roadside café a few miles back after making a pit stop and getting coffee to go. Brian had insisted on taking over the driving. Now they bumped along in pothole after pothole, and she wondered if her butt would withstand all of the bumps. She’d be bruised tomorrow, alive, but bruised. Fortunately he’d warned her to drink up the coffee before they’d hit the unpaved road heading toward Bungumby.
    The countryside was gorgeous. Better than the almost flat, dry land along the highway. Lush tropical plants, vines, and tall shady trees, all back-lit by the morning sun, dappled the rough road. They drove deeper into the rainforest and passed over a riverbed of rocks. Water flowed modestly, making it passable.
    “Not too deep yet,” Brian said. “We have two seasons here. Wet and dry. When the rains come, these river beds can fill quickly and leave ya’ stranded for days.”
    Amy’s stomach clenched with dread. No monsoonal rains this week, please. She hoped and prayed that her intuition was on target and Meg had gone