“Dying to hear all about it.”
“You will, believe me,” Jane laughed, “bye.”
Ending the call, Jane leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh. Flying from Sydney to London took forever, but thankfully Australia was a day ahead.
“Thank God I didn’t have to postpone,” she muttered. “It’s taken too long as it is.”
Experience, and Bernie, had taught her that closing the deal had to happen when the mark’s interest was peaking. That could be manipulated, but only to a degree, and sometimes circumstances changed to bring it forward or push it back. That’s what the snowstorm had done. Jane had felt the energy picking up steam. The girls had jumped on the excitement of Jane’s father owning a goldmine the moment she’d mentioned it, and she needed to seize that excitement and act on it.
Feeling relieved that everything had been arranged, she returned to her work and things zipped along effortlessly. By the time she heard Henry return from his run she was almost finished. Rising from the kitchen table, she put the jug on to boil and spooned some tea into the teapot.
“Hi there, did you have a good jog?” she asked as Henry ambled in. “Oh, my goodness, you’re drenched. You’re dripping all over the floor.”
“I know,” he panted, “sorry. The drizzle was wetter than I thought it would be. How’s the site?”
“The site is very close to completion,” she beamed.
“That’s great news, Sara will be thrilled. I’m going to jump in the shower.”
“The tea will be waiting.”
“How about a hug,” he grinned wickedly, walking toward her with his arms outstretched.
“Aaarrgh… get away from me,” she squealed, darting out of his grasp.
“But I want a hug!”
“Don’t you dare come near me.”
“Then join me in the shower.”
“No, you’re disgusting,” she exclaimed, laughing out loud and ducking into the living room.
“Chicken.”
“That’s me, now go away and stop dribbling everywhere.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, “but next time you need a hug, good luck!”
She watched him disappear down the hallway and let out a heavy sigh. She didn’t want to go home. They’d have one more wonderful night together, and in the morning he’d be off to his work, and she’d be on her way. The power at her house had been on since Saturday afternoon, but neither of them had seen any reason for her to leave, so she’d stayed, and they had continued to delight in their time together.
“It’s not goodbye,” she muttered to herself as she returned to the kitchen. “You’ll be with him again soon, very soon. He’ll miss you just as much. You need to finish with Operation Ass, and then you’re free and clear to enjoy him even more.”
But her attempts to reassure herself didn’t help her much. She was truly sad to be leaving. Except for Bernie, she’d never been close with anyone, and though she’d loved Bernie dearly, it wasn’t a romantic love; she hadn’t loved him the way she loved Henry.
Loved Henry?
The unexpected thought stopped her in her tracks, and she dropped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.
“Is this… am I… in love with him?” she mumbled, a massive wave of heat springing up in the back of her throat. “Ooh, I am. I never thought this would happen to me. What do I do? Do I do anything?”
Several hours later, a low fire burning, they were in bed about to go to sleep. He’d taken her to a local Indian restaurant for a curry, and throughout the dinner he’d played between her legs underneath the table. The moment they’d returned home he’d wrapped her up in his arms, taken her to his bed, laid on top of her, and while kissing her neck and whispering warm, wonderful words in her ear, he’d slowly ridden her to her climax. It had been sublime. He was sublime, and as she rested against him, she yawned, then moaned contentedly.
“If I was a kitten I’d be purring,” she said softly.
“Mmmm, if I was a big tomcat, I’d be purring too,” he mumbled, pulling her closer. “What do you have on the books for tomorrow?”
“Stuff,” she said vaguely.
“What sort of stuff? Up to chicanery?”
“Do you really want to know the answer to that question?”
“Heavens! I’m going to worry about you all day,” he sighed. “Please be careful.”
“Everything will be fine.”
“And what if it’s not?” he said with an edge in his voice.
“It will be.”
“Sara was raving about that website you built for her. She said it’s twice as good as the old one. Have you thought about doing that for a living? You could advertise, I could tell people about you. I’m sure you’d get plenty of clients.”
“Maybe,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure how to go about living like other people.”
“You just did, here with me, for the last five days.”
“Wouldn’t I have to do legal stuff? I mean, would it really be that simple?”
“You must have a checking account and credit cards.”
“No, I pay for everything with cash, and if I get a large amount, it goes into a safe deposit box.”
“How can you live without credit cards, or bank accounts?” he asked, sitting up and staring down at her. “It must be difficult.”
“No, the only thing is, I don’t have a driver’s license, and there’s a very nice car in the garage. I’m afraid to take it out in case something happens, then I’d be screwed.”
“Good grief, what make of car?”
“It’s wonderful. It’s a Jaguar from the 1960s. I don’t remember exactly which year, but it’s completely restored. It was Bernie’s pride and joy.”
“He must have had it licensed. How did he manage all this?”
“He was going to show me, but he never did… though,” she said thoughtfully, “looking back, maybe he didn’t really want to.”
“Who is it that takes care of things?”
“An accountant, his name is Billy.”
“Do you know his last name?”
“Hammond, I think, or Hammer, something like that.”
“Does he have an office?”
“In his home. He used to be a partner at a big accounting firm in the city, but he was arrested for embezzlement. He did manage to get his license back and he set up his own business. He’s doing fairly well now.”
“So you’ve got a chap who was arrested for embezzlement handling your money. This doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.”
“Bernie trusted him, and that was good enough for me, but when you put it like that…”
“Perhaps you should pay him a visit and ask him to explain everything. You’re as sharp as a scalpel. You’ll sense if something’s not right, and I wouldn’t mind taking a look myself, if you’d be okay with that.”
“I’d be fine with it, and that’s a really good suggestion, Henry. Thanks.”
“You need to promise me something; no, make that you need to promise me two things.”
“Sure, if I can.”
“Please, please, please consider going straight. I’ll help you, I’ll do whatever I can.”
“I won’t change my name back,” she said firmly.
“Hey, you’re Jane Campbell, and we can make that legal that as well.”
“I’m not sure,” she murmured. “What’s the other thing you want me to promise?”
“If you do get in trouble, if the police come for you for some reason, or take you to the station to talk to you, will you promise to ring me?”
“Yes, I promise, and I’m glad you said that. I have Bernie’s lawyer, but I’d much rather get in touch with you.”
“I hope you never have to,” he grimaced, “and I really hope you’ll think about changing careers.”
“If I’m being really honest, I like being separate from the mainstream.”
“You’re really not worrie
d about ending up in jail?”
“Sometimes, more since I met you.”
“What about this job you’re doing now?”
“What about it?”
“Do you have to finish it? Can’t you just let it go while you think about my suggestion?”
“That would be weird. Sorry, no. I want to see it through.”
“And you’re sure it’s safe?”
“It’s as safe as any other job I’ve done, and I’m here, aren’t I? No cuffs around my wrists, except yours of course,” she giggled.
“When will it be over?”
“If everything goes as I’ve planned, probably this week.”
“How will I survive it,” he groaned, lying back down.
“Everything will be fine,” she purred, then yawned and snuggled against him. “You worry too much.”
“And you don’t worry enough.”
“I need to go to sleep now, goodnight, Henry.”
Closing her eyes, she started to drift off, and an odd thought floated through her mind. How ironic it would be if she did decide to make Operation Ass her last job, and she got caught.
Chapter Seventeen
The airport was bustling. Jane had arrived with plenty of time to spare, and was in one of the coffee shops finishing a latte, thinking about the last few days. They’d been heavenly. Henry was a dream come true, but she was unnerved by the depth of her feelings. How could a man like him, a man so polished and successful, a man so educated and refined, be serious about her? Was she being foolish, even contemplating the possibility of a future with him? Her fears and doubts were unsettling and began to take hold, and she had to focus on the task at hand. Rising from her chair, she gripped the handle of her rolling suitcase and wandered out into the crowd, headed for the doors that would take her outside, but as she passed the Qantas check-in counter, she noticed a woman holding a baby in her arms and looking extremely upset. As Jane drew closer, she saw the woman wasn’t just upset, she was desperate.
An average onlooker would have seen the worry and tears, but not the desperation. It was Jane’s keen eye that caught such things, and moving closer, she saw thick makeup around the woman’s eye unsuccessfully hiding a dark bruise, and a swollen lip with a nasty cut.
“Don’t you have a cheaper ticket?” the woman begged. “I have to get on that plane.”
“I’m terribly sorry, but if you’d booked in advance—”
“I couldn’t.”
“Do you have a credit card you can use for the balance?”
“I only have our passports.”
The woman turned her head and looked frantically behind her, and in that moment Jane knew exactly what was going on. The man in her life was abusive, and the woman was trying to make her escape with her precious infant in her arms.
“Excuse me,” Jane said, approaching the counter with a warm smile and brimming with confidence. “I’m happy to pay the difference.”
The woman spun around, staring at her in shock.
“Hello, I’m Jane, and I’m completely sincere,” Jane said warmly. “How much is needed?” she continued, looking at the clerk behind the counter.
“It’s five hundred and eighty pounds,” replied the startled clerk.
“No problem,” Jane declared.
With the speechless woman watching, Jane opened her wallet, pulled out six hundred pounds, and handed it across the counter.
“I don’t understand,” the stunned woman exclaimed, kissing her baby’s head as fresh tears fell from her eyes.
“But I do,” Jane said softly, then leaning in, she softly asked, “What does he look like?”
A deep frown crossed the woman’s face, and she moved her head back to stare at Jane, unsure what to do or say.
“I know you’re going through a horrible ordeal right now,” Jane said smoothly, “and you don’t know what to make of me. Someone saved me once, and I pass it along whenever I can. Does this make more sense now?”
“It does,” the woman said hesitantly, “it’s just—”
“Shocking, I know, but you need to be on that plane with your baby, and that’s all that matters. Please, tell me what he looks like.”
“Uh, he’s probably in a green coat and black scarf. He’s bald and unshaved, but you mustn’t go near him. He’ll be a crazy man.”
“Anything else, a scar, an earring, anything distinguishable?” Jane asked, ignoring the woman’s warning.
“He has a scar over his right eyebrow,” the woman said shakily.
“Are you originally from Australia? Am I hearing an accent?”
“Yes.”
“Get yourself home, and never look back,” she said gently.
“But… I don’t even know who you are. How can I repay you?”
“By taking your boarding pass and getting through security as quickly as you can. One day, when you can, pass it on to someone else.”
“Thank you,” the woman breathed, fighting her emotion as she clutched her baby.
“Here’s your boarding pass,” the ticket clerk said, interrupting them, “and your change,” she continued, handing Jane a twenty-pound note. “Is there any baggage?”
“No,” the woman replied, “just my carryon.”
As she reached across to take the boarding pass, Jane ducked away, but not before slipping two hundred pounds in the woman’s overnight bag sitting on the floor next to her.
If the desperate woman was to get away, Jane had to make sure her abuser wasn’t racing through the airport seeking her out. If he was, Jane would have to stop him. Her scrutinizing eyes scanned the harried travelers surrounding her. Seeing no man who resembled the woman’s description, she walked briskly outside.
Standing completely still, her gaze sweeping through the many people coming and going, she saw a bald man dressed in a long, ugly green coat. He was half-running and half-walking, his eyes focused on the doors she’d just exited. Taking hold of the handle of her rolling suitcase, she began casually walking forward, pretending to look at the ground but keeping him in sight. As he neared she could see his unshaven face and a nasty, curved scar above his eyebrow.
It was him.
She quickened her pace, and with perfect timing she placed herself directly in his path. As he dodged to sail past, she stuck out her foot. With a shocked cry, he tumbled to the ground.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so terribly sorry,” she exclaimed, leaning down to help him.
“You stupid bloody cow,” he bellowed, trying to stand up. “Why the hell don’t you look where you’re going?”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she repeated, smelling the distasteful odor of liquor and cigarettes. “Let me help you.”
“Get the hell away from me,” he scowled, trying to push her back.
Jane wasn’t going anywhere, and the more he attempted to get up, the more she interfered, though in the guise of trying to help. Finally frustrated, the man violently shoved her hard enough to send her to the ground, then he staggered to his feet.
“No wonder you ran into me,” she said loudly for the benefit of those close by, “you’re drunk.”
“Are you all right?” a good-looking young man asked, offering his hand to help Jane up.
“Thank you, I’m fine, I think, just banged my elbow. That man is absolutely insane.”
They both watched the nasty man begin to hobble away, and an idea suddenly popped into her head.
“Do you think he looks a bit suspicious?” she asked, looking up at her young hero.
“What do you mean?”
“He has no bags, and he was acting strangely when he ran into me. I mean, more than just drunk. I’d tell a security guard but I have a friend picking me up and I can’t leave the curb.”
“Then I will,” the young man declared. “I’m going inside anyway, and we can’t be too careful these days!”
“I think you’re right,” Jane agreed. “Thank you. I’d best get back to where I need to be.”
�
��May I ask your name?”
Recognizing the accent of a young man well-bred, unable to stop herself, she smiled and said, “Jane Campbell, the third daughter of the Campbells of Ellsworth Park, and now I really must go. Thank you again.”
“I’m Giles Stanbury, of Stanbury Coffee. Perhaps I could ring you some time.”
“Delighted, but you need to get to security, and I need to move back to my pickup spot.”
“Right you are!” he nodded, and took off running into the building.
Smiling her mischievous smile, Jane headed back to the curb where Sylvia and the girls would be looking for her. She’d used the phrase the third daughter of the Campbells of Ellsworth Park several times in the past. She didn’t even know if there was an Ellsworth Park, but it sounded impressive and it tickled her fancy.
As she waited, she opened her bag and grinned at the ragged black leather wallet. She’d inspect the contents when she got home, and though she never wished to lay eyes on the man again, she’d do a little digging, then let some friends know about the unsavory character who liked to beat up women.
She only had to wait a few minutes before she saw a long black limousine cruising toward her. As it pulled to a stop, she glanced back to the main doors. Much to her delight she saw the ugly brute being escorted toward a waiting police van by two security guards. She could well imagine the ruckus he would have caused as he’d limped around, smelling of booze, frantically looking for his runaway woman. Giles would have had no problem convincing security the man might be trouble. Feeling buoyed by the episode, and knowing the woman and her baby were safely on their way to a new life, Jane climbed into the back seat of the car as the chauffeur placed her suitcase in the trunk.
“Hey, girl,” Sylvia exclaimed, “where’s your tan?”
“It’s not sun that shines in a goldmine,” she laughed, doing what she did best, thinking fast on her feet, but she wanted to kick herself. How did she miss such an important detail? Henry! That’s how. He’d completely distracted her.
“Tell us everything,” Amanda demanded. “Did you actually go inside the mine? Was it scary?”
“Sort of,” Jane replied, “but it wasn’t like I thought it would be. It was civilized, and there are a ton of safety precautions.”
Reforming Jane Page 14