by Helen Conrad
His lopsided grin warmed her. “I believe it,” he said softly, his face lowering toward hers. “I’ve seen the evidence myself.”
His lips touched hers so sweetly she felt tears surging again. She pulled away. “Dammit,” she muttered, hiding her face from him. “Don’t kiss me when I’m mad.”
“What are you mad at, Jessie?”
“You. The world. Life.” Once again she managed to hold back the flow. She turned to face him in triumph. “I’m going with you.”
He shook his head. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. It would be better that way. I can keep an eye on—“
He took hold of her shoulders and shook her, his face harder than ever. “It’s too dangerous. You’re not coming with me,” he ground out. “And that’s final.”
Jimmy was at the door of the truck, looking curiously at them. Jessie leaned over to let him in. Michael was not going to cooperate, that was certain. She was going to have to think of some other way to protect him.
She sighed and watched the little boy climb in. In the meantime, finding Jimmy’s mother was a priority. “Okay, Jimmy,” she said as he settled between them on the bench seat. “Where do we go to look for your mother?”
Jimmy avoided her eyes. “I... I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? You must have some idea, some name, some address.”
He shrugged his skinny little shoulders. “I can’t remember.” He sat for a moment, then looked up at her, his black eyes hopeful. “Can we go back to that casino again?”
The light began to dawn in Jessie’s brain. “Jimmy, listen. I know it’s been a really exciting day...”
“It’s been neat.”
“But it’s not always ‘neat’ with us, you know? Life isn’t always that much fun. I know you got to see gangsters and naked ladies and a winning jackpot, but that’s not going to happen again. This day was special. It’s time to find your family and go with them.”
He nodded solemnly. “I’ll think about it. Maybe I can remember the name of the place.”
She shrugged, looking at Michael. “Well, when you remember, you let me know and we’ll take you there. Okay?”
Jimmy nodded.
Michael looked at him and couldn’t help but grin. If he were Jimmy, he’d want to stay where the action was, too. It was funny how nice it felt, the three of them together this way. Like a family. Like the sort of family he’d dreamed about most nights when he was a little boy and his father was still at the office at ten o’clock and his mother was at a party or traveling in Europe. He’d spent more time with nannies and tutors than he had with his family.
“Let him stay with us for now,” Michael said, garnering a worshipful glance from Jimmy. “What we’d better do is go check ourselves into a motel.”
“No way,” Jessie said quickly. “I’m sure your cash is running low. What are you going to do, use a credit card?”
Michael’s mouth set grimly. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”
Jessie reached into her pants pocket and produced a key. “My cousin Sheri’s house,” she said. “Cerise gave me this before we left, just in case we needed a place to stay. Sheri and her husband are on a trip to Chicago to visit his family. We can have the house to ourselves.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed and he looked at the key suspiciously. “How did she know we were going to Las Vegas? I thought we told them California.”
She nodded. “Cerise isn’t as dumb as she looks. She knew we were headed here.” They’d parted on far more friendly terms than they’d started on, with Cerise pressing the key into her hand and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
Michael looked into the distance, toward the dark hills. “If she knew it,” he mused, “I wonder who else put two and two together and came up with the same answer.”
Jessie turned and looked at the hills, too, as though she could find the answer there. She was afraid now. Afraid for Michael.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Catch Me If You Can
The house surprised her. A charming little two story in a neat neighborhood, it looked a more likely place to find Snow White and a few of the dwarfs than Jessie’s cousin.
“This is it?” Michael asked as they pulled up in front of the well-trimmed lawn.
“Uh-huh.” Jessie checked the address Cerise had given her, then stared at the house. “Do you suppose the neighbors will notice us?”
“Sure,” he said cheerfully, opening the door and jumping out. “And they’ll call the cops and we’ll all go to jail. But let’s go on in anyway.”
She felt like a burglar. An interloper. Sheri wasn’t going to be pleased to find out they’d been tramping through her house while she was gone. But there wasn’t much choice. They went up to the door and Jessie took out the key—and then they were in.
On the inside the house was decorated just as cozily as the outside had promised, with country prints and ceramic geese and an antique butter churn.
“Cute,” Jessie said, and for just a second she actually felt a pang of envy for her cousin. It was cute, and a far cry from the bunkhouse ambience she and Harley had lived in for years.
“Cute enough to OD on,” was Michael’s comment. “Let’s hope she doesn’t pick out her husband’s wardrobe.”
He went right upstairs to the master bedroom and Jessie followed him. Throwing open the walk-in closet, he quickly picked out a blue shirt and a worn brown leather aviator jacket. Jessie leaned against the wall and watched as he pulled off his plaid shirt and put on the blue one, then the jacket.
“You look like a World War II bomber pilot.” The smile died on her lips as she realized how appropriate that was. She was like a woman sending her man off to war. What kind of craziness was this? How had this happened?
But Michael seemed more excited than afraid. Striding to the dresser, he found a pair of dark glasses. Waving them at her, he disappeared into the bathroom. When he emerged, his hair was slicked back and the dark glasses were firmly in place.
She nodded, impressed. “Your own mother wouldn’t recognize you.”
“Are you kidding?” He looked into the mirror and preened a little. “My own mother doesn’t usually recognize me. I’m lucky if she remembers she has a son.”
“I don’t believe it.” How could any mother not be proud as punch to have a son like that, Jessie thought, her gaze slipping over his wide shoulders, his slim hips. He was handsome, smart, sharp and kind to boot. It made her shiver all over to think about how wonderful he was. Did that mean she was in love, as she’d told Uncle Fred?
“Okay.” He turned and grinned at her, his eyes hidden by the glasses. “I’ve got to go.”
She jammed her hands down into the pockets of her jeans, fear prickling along her spine. “Can’t you just use the telephone first?” she suggested. “Wouldn’t that be easier... and safer?”
“Sure. And also less effective.” He touched her cheek with a lingering finger. “I’ve got to go out and mill around at the casinos, Jessie. It’s the only way I’ll have a chance of finding anyone who knows anything.”
“But Lenny said—“
His voice was harsh as he cut in. “I know what Lenny said.”
She bit back the rest, the begging and pleading, because she knew it was no use. He left her still leaning against the wall, and a few seconds later she heard the front door bang, then the truck start up. She’d never felt so all alone in her life.
The lounge singer was particularly repulsive, a middle-aged man with his shirt open to the navel who sported gold chains hung like Christmas ornaments around his neck. His voice sounded like Vic Damone’s through a foghorn. Michael looked down at his drink and winced with distaste.
This was the sixth lounge in the sixth casino. The sixth lousy drink. The sixth lousy lounge act. And finally, despite all his efforts to avoid it, the liquor was beginning to get to him.
“Hello, handsome.”
Make that the sixth woman ca
dging drinks, as well, he thought fuzzily. Not looking up, he raised one eyebrow. “Hark. Do I hear the call of yet another lovely lady?” he murmured, more to himself than to her.
She slid into the chair beside him without waiting for an invitation. “You shouldn’t drink alone, honey,” she purred. “You need someone here to protect you. Someone like me.”
He made a gallant gesture, wishing he were more sober. That was it. No more drinks, not even to preserve the authentic look of the average tourist. “By all means. Be my guest.” Peering at her, he decided she was indeed beautiful. That was nice. “What is it you’ve decided I need protection from?” He took off the dark glasses.
She seemed to ignore his question. “I’m Taffy. Who are you?”
“Who am I?” He frowned and searched his memory. “Let’s see. I had a name when I came in here. What was it?”
She giggled and patted his shoulder in a familiar manner. “Never mind, honey. I’ll just call you ‘John,’ okay?”
He sighed. “I suppose that’s appropriate.”
“Buy me a drink, honey, and I’ll tell you what you need protection from.”
“But of course.” He signaled the waiter. “Now tell me.”
She gave him a seductive look he knew she must have practiced again and again in front of her own mirror. “Boredom, honey. That’s my function in life. Protecting good-looking men like you from boredom.”
Michael blinked, impressed with her expertise. The waiter arrived and he looked up. “Anything the lady desires. In fact, make that two of anything the lady desires.”
The waiter nodded wearily. “How about you, mister? Want a refill on that Scotch?”
Michael looked at the glass regretfully. Another drink and he’d be out like a light. “No, thanks,” he said. “I’ll just chew on my ice cubes for a while.”
“Tell you what, honey.” She leaned closer, drawing circles around his ear with her forefinger. “Come on up to my room and I’ll give you all the Scotch you want.”
“My very own bottle?”
She nodded, pouting attractively. “With my blessing.”
He stared at her for a moment, then gave her a crooked grin. Amazing. He wasn’t even tempted. “Once you’ve sipped from the fresh mountain spring,” he told her wisely, “it’s hard to go back to plain old tap water.”
She frowned, not sure what he meant but intelligent enough to know it didn’t compliment her. “Listen, bud, I’m offering to do you a favor here. You can say yes or no, but you don’t have to get smart with me.”
Jamming the sunglasses back on his nose, he slumped in his chair. “I’m sorry, Miss Taffy,” he muttered. “Please don’t take umbrage. I do want a favor from you. But not the sort you’re talking about.”
She looked guarded. “I don’t do any funny stuff,” she began.
He laughed shortly, then sobered and leaned closer to her. “What I want, lovely Taffy, is information. Do you have any of that?”
Still wary, she shrugged. “Maybe. What kind of information?”
“I’m trying to find a man named Kerry Carter. Ever heard of him?”
She thought for a moment, her brows furrowed, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. What’s his line?”
Michael sighed. “He’s a pilot. He’s here in town looking for backing on a dangerous undertaking and I have to find him.”
She wiggled in her seat. “Ooooh, I love pilots. What’s he look like?”
“Blond with blue eyes. Six-foot-four. Laughs real loud.”
She frowned. “I wish I’d seen him, honey, but I can’t say I have.”
Michael nodded. “Okay.” His head was finally beginning to clear. “But let’s move on. You know your way around this casino, I’m sure. Who can I talk to who might know Kerry? Who knows everything around here?”
She hesitated. “Danny, I guess. The pitboss. Do you want me to introduce you to him?”
Michael smiled. “You’re a smart girl.” He tucked a large bill into her hand. “Where is he?”
They found him going over receipts in a change booth. Taffy called him out and introduced him. “This is John, Danny. He wants to ask you some questions.” She gave them both quick, tentative smiles and withdrew from the scene.
Danny was large and tough looking, like a retired professional wrestler. “I don’t like questions,” he said shortly, his beady eyes glancing here and there.
“Mine are painless.” Michael tried a warm smile, but it met with no visible signs of a thaw. “I’m looking for a man named Kerry Carter. Have you by any chance—“
“Listen, mister.” Danny’s face came toward him, belligerently. “I don’t see anyone. I don’t hear any names. I just do my job and go home and play with my little two-year-old son. You get me? That’s how I keep my job.” He turned back toward the change booth.
Michael tried to stop him. “I can pay for the information—“
“Pay?” Danny wheeled on him, his face dark and angry. “Will you pay enough to make up for the salary I’ll lose if I get fired here? Huh? I don’t think so, mister. And anyway, I never heard of this Kerry guy. So leave me alone.” Steeling himself to be more polite to a casino guest, he said stiffly, “I’m sorry I can’t help you. Goodbye.”
Michael watched him go back to work and sighed. This was getting to be a long, long day. Turning away from the casino floor, he hunched his shoulders and started for the back rooms. There was always the kitchen help, the maids, the bellboys. Tracking Kerry down was getting to be a very tedious operation.
Evening brought melancholy to Jessie. She and Jimmy had played every board game they could find in the house. She’d read a magazine while Jimmy watched television. Finally she’d fixed the boy a sandwich and settled down to watch the news, but it was hard to keep her attention on the television.
Michael should have been back by now. She kept thinking that if anything happened to him, she would never hear about it, because no one would know to call Sheri’s house. Waiting was pure hell. She was tempted to run out to try to find Michael, but she didn’t want to leave Jimmy. If only Michael would call or something.
“Look!” Jimmy was jumping up in excitement. “Look, on the TV. It’s us!”
Jessie glanced at the screen and sure enough, there they were.
“The mystery woman who won the fifty-thousand-dollar jackpot at the Samarkand Casino and then simply walked away has been identified tonight,” the newscaster was saying. “Seen in this videotape made by the security cameras in the casino, the woman has been identified as Jessica Carrington, kidnap victim of fugitive Michael Drayton, who can be seen in the bottom right-hand corner of the picture, pulling her away. A police spokesman told this reporter they were very close to an arrest in this case. And what will happen to that jackpot? Nobody knows.”
That did it. Now everyone knew Michael was in town. And everyone knew what both of them looked like. Even the neighbors might have noticed. She glanced around quickly, making sure all the shades were drawn tight.
Jimmy was at her feet, his eyes huge and searching as he stared up at her. “Did Michael kidnap you?”
She frowned, feeling cornered. Catching hold of herself, she stopped, took a deep breath, then relaxed with a short laugh. “Do I look like I’m kidnapped?” she asked.
He studied her hard. If there had been any evidence of foul play, he surely would have seen it. “They’re wrong,” he said solemnly.
She tried to smile at him, her mind racing a million miles a minute. “Yes, honey; they’re wrong. I’m with Michael because I want to be.”
He nodded. “Me, too.”
She laughed softly, drawing him up close, and for once he let her hug him. “But you don’t belong here, Jimmy,” she told him. “We’ve got to find your mother tomorrow. Or the next thing you know, they’ll be accusing Michael of kidnapping you, too.”
Involved in a thousand thoughts at once, she didn’t notice how his little body stiffened, how he drew away, his face stricken.
“It’s about time you got to bed,” she said, getting up from her chair and leading him away. “You can sleep in the downstairs den. Okay?”
He nodded, his eyes sad. “Will you read to me? Like the moms do on TV?”
“Sure.” She was beginning to feel like an old hand at this mothering business. It seemed easy with a kid as sweet and agreeable as Jimmy. “You wash up and get into bed and I’ll be there.” She watched him run off. She was going to miss him. What kind of crazy mother would let her child run wild?
The only thing she could find to read to him was Aesop’s Fables, but he seemed to like them just fine. When she finally closed the book and turned off the light by the sofa bed he was sleeping on, he was still wide-awake.
“We’re going to find your mother first thing in the morning,” she promised.
There was a slight hesitation before he said, “Okay.”
“Where do you suppose she is, Jimmy? Do you have any relatives here in Las Vegas?”
“No.”
“There are no crops to harvest around here. What was she going to do here if not visit friends or relatives?”
“Probably she’ll be getting a job at one of the big hotels,” he said quickly.
Jessie was silent for a long moment, thinking that over, and when she didn’t answer, Jimmy got a bit anxious. He rose and leaned on one elbow. “I could get a job in one of those hotels,” he said wistfully. “One of the big ones with lots of lights and mirrors.”
Jessie laughed at his tone. “You’re much too young to work in one of those places,” she told him. “We need to find your mother and get you back into school, where you belong.”
“I don’t go to school,” he pointed out.
“That is all too apparent. And it’s also something I’m going to have to talk to your mother about when we finally do find her.” She was getting more and more angry at the woman. If she couldn’t keep better track of her son than this, she didn’t deserve to keep him. Jessie took better care of her horses than this woman did her child. Migrant work was hard and debilitating, and you had to get to the crops fast or you lost out. Jessie could understand that the mother might have had to leave Jimmy behind at some point. But why couldn’t she have made better provisions for his travel? And why wasn’t she moving heaven and earth and the highway patrol to find him now? It was very strange.