She struggled with the knots, but the blood dripping on the curling iron cord made it slippery.
Fortunately Nick was hollering loud enough to drown out the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, plus he was so busy ripping up his shirt to use as a bandage that he didn’t seem to be paying them any mind.
Finally Genevieve loosened the last of the knots and unwound the cord from Jack’s hands and his ankle.
“Oh, thank God.” He started to unbend his leg.
“Don’t. He might figure out you’re loose.”
Jack groaned but stayed where he was. “We need to get him over here so we can tackle him and get that gun away from him,” he whispered.
“Right.” Calling to Nick felt like splashing around in the water to get the attention of a shark, but at least he was a wounded shark. Genevieve got back in position beside Jack, as if she were still tied up. Before speaking, she had to stop to clear her throat. “Nick!” she called.
He was moaning so loudly he didn’t seem to hear her.
She tried again. “Nick!”
“I got a problem over here!” he yelled back. “Oh, Sweet Jesus, it won’t stop bleeding.”
“You need to put more pressure on it, Nick! And make sure it doesn’t get infected. I have some antibiotic ointment in my makeup bag. It’s the little flowered thing with the zipper lying over here about a foot from me.”
“Why would you care what happens to me?”
“Because if that bullet wound gets infected, and you pass out and leave us tied up like this, we could all die.”
Nick was silent for a moment. “So you’re turning into Florence Nightingale because you need me?”
“I reckon that’s true. If you’d untie me, I could help you with that gunshot foot.”
“Nice touch,” Jack murmured.
“Hell, I’m not that stupid! But I’ll use the stuff in your makeup bag. That’s a good idea.”
“He stuck the gun in his waistband,” Jack said, his words covered by Nick’s loud cussing as he limped toward them.
“Damn.” Genevieve had hoped he’d leave the gun behind.
Jack flexed his fingers behind his back. “I’ll get it,” he said softly.
As Nick approached, Genevieve remembered that she had the glasses and Jack didn’t.
In the next second Jack had launched himself at Nick and made a grab for the gun. Being half blind, of course he missed.
Yelling, Nick toppled to one side and got his hand on the gun. As Genevieve lunged forward, Jack finally got hold of the gun barrel, which wouldn’t do him much good if that blessed gun went off.
Genevieve latched on to Nick’s injured foot, but she couldn’t tell if Nick had his finger on the trigger of the gun or not. “Let go of the gun!” she hollered, banging down on his wound with her fist.
Nick’s animal yowl of pain was followed by the click of the gun’s hammer.
Jack rolled to one side. “I’ve got it!” He held the gun aloft and scrambled to his feet.
“I’ll kill you!” Nick screamed, reaching for Genevieve. “I’ll kill you both!”
She jumped out of range and got to her feet. “Kiss my grits, Nick!”
“I’ve got this gun pointed right at your head, sucker,” Jack said. “It didn’t go off last time, which means it might next time.”
“Damn it, my foot hurts! Can’t you do something?” Nick said, appealing to Genevieve.
Genevieve gulped for air. “You got your own self into this fix, Nick. I know you had a rotten childhood and all, but that’s no excuse for trying to kill folks.” She went to stand beside Jack and sight down the gun barrel. Jack’s aim was way off. “Better give me the gun,” she said, “since I have the glasses.”
“No, you give me the glasses.”
“First tell me who pulled the trigger a minute ago.”
“He did.”
“Are you sure? With you being so all-fired smart, you could have figured out it would have been self-defense.”
Jack blew out a breath. “Gen, I promised I wouldn’t kill him, and I don’t break promises.”
“Okay, then.” She took off the glasses and handed them to Jack.
Jack slipped them up over his nose and blinked. “Oh, there you are.” He moved the gun barrel a good three inches to the right. “You looked ugly before, but now that I can see you better, you look downright disgusting.”
“He definitely looks better without the glasses,” Genevieve said.
“Very funny,” Nick said, his shoulders sagging.
“Now, Nick,” Genevieve said, “if you promise not to try anything, I’ll cut some material off your pants and make a pressure bandage for your foot.”
“And if you move a muscle in her direction,” Jack said, “I’ll shoot. I’ll try to hit your arm or something you can live without, but I’ve never shot a gun before so I make no guarantees.”
“I won’t try anything. I promise. I—” And then he passed out.
“Uh-oh.” Genevieve started to rush toward him.
“Wait.” Jack grabbed her arm. “It could be a trick.”
“You’re right.” She approached slowly, Jack right beside her, the gun cocked.
Nick didn’t move, not even when Genevieve kneeled down and started to unwrap the blood-soaked bandage from his foot. “I’ll bet he’s gone into shock,” she said. “That’s dangerous.”
“What can we do about it?”
“I think you’re supposed to wrap the person in blankets.”
“We have the beach towel.”
“That will help, but we might need to do more than that.”
“Like what?”
“Like while I try to stop the bleeding, you can hug him.”
Chapter Twenty
Jack grabbed the beach towel and tried to convince Genevieve that wrapping Nick in the towel and then hugging him was a dandy way to handle a basically icky situation. But she didn’t think that was good enough. She said Nick needed a quicker warm-up, which meant skin to skin. Jack’s skin next to Nick’s skin.
“No friggin’ way.”
“Do you want him to die?” she asked as she snipped off the bottom of Nick’s pants leg with her manicure scissors.
“Yes. Yes, I do. Especially if it’s really not our fault because he shot himself in the foot.”
“Well, I don’t want him to die.” She folded the pants material and pressed it hard against the bleeding, which seemed to be concentrated around Brogan’s big toe.
Jack still held the gun pointed at Nick’s head, just in case he suddenly popped up and started any mischief. “I don’t see why not. He’s a wart on the backside of humanity.”
“That’s true, but if he dies out here, that’s too easy. I want him to go back and get what’s coming to him. Besides, if he’s alive, there’s some chance of Matt getting his money back. If he’s dead, there’s no chance.”
As usual, Gen made a lot of sense. “Okay, if I have to do this, then you get the glasses.” He tossed the beach towel down beside Nick and pulled off his glasses. “This project definitely requires fuzzy vision.”
She took the glasses from him. “And I’ll do a better job with his wound if I can see. I think he only shot off the tip of his big toe, so once I get the bleeding stopped, he’ll probably be okay.”
With a sigh of resignation, Jack lay down next to Nick. He continued to point the gun at Nick’s head as he edged closer. “This is grossing me out.”
“Would you rather have me do it and you hold the pressure bandage on his toe?”
“No, I would not.” The only thing worse than wrapping his arms around this creepazoid was having Gen do it. After sliding one arm under Nick’s head, Jack transferred the gun to that hand. Good thing he had long arms so he could keep the barrel shoved into Nick’s ear. Then he managed to pull the beach towel around both of them while he slung his other arm over the guy’s clammy chest.
“Closer,” Gen said.
“He feels half dead already.”
<
br /> “See? That’s why you have to warm him up.”
“If he so much as moves a pinkie, I’m outta here.”
“I hope he does move pretty soon. If he stays unconscious, that’s not so good.”
Jack rested his chin on Nick’s shoulder. “If I have to snuggle with him, unconscious is my preference. Matter of fact, I could use a little unconsciousness myself.”
Gen didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Finally she turned to him. “Jack, we’re in kind of a mess.”
“Gee, do you really think so?”
“Once I get this bleeding stopped, maybe I should go back for more guavas while it’s still light out.”
“I pretty much hate that plan. How’s this? We tie up psycho-man and go over there together.”
“That’s crazy.” Gen lifted the bandage. “Damn, he’s still bleeding.”
“What’s crazy about it? If we tie him up, he sure as hell isn’t going anywhere.”
“He’s lost a lot of blood. One of us needs to keep an eye on him, and you’re terrible at going up and down cliffs. If we’re not rescued soon, we’ll need some kind of liquid. It doesn’t look like rain.”
Despite the clammy body he was gripping, Jack was starting to sweat under the beach towel. Sweating meant he was losing water, and he was already thirsty as hell. They definitely needed more guavas, but he didn’t want Gen going over there alone. Yeah, he would be scared going back down the cliff and then climbing it again, but thinking of Gen doing it by herself scared him more.
“Okay, Gen, I’ve hugged Brogan like you wanted, and I haven’t pulled the trigger on the gun because you asked me not to. If you take everything that’s happened before this into consideration, I think you’d have to agree I’ve been more than reasonable.”
She gazed at him. “More than reasonable.”
“I’m through being reasonable. If you go for guavas, I’m going with you.”
“Jack, it makes no sense. I—”
“I don’t give a damn if it makes sense or not. If you go, I go. Brogan will have to take his chances.” He gave her his sternest glare, even though she looked so cute wearing his glasses, so adorably serious and intense.
“Okay,” she said finally.
He heaved a sigh of relief. If she hadn’t agreed, he’d have to go anyway, and they’d fight, and he didn’t want that.
“I suppose we should go together,” she said. “That’s how we’ve done everything so far, so we might as well keep on doing what’s been working.”
“Exactly. And I promise not to get so freaked out about the cliff.”
She gave him a small smile. “I think it’s kinda cute, you being afraid of heights.”
“Where I grew up it was very flat.”
“It looks like it in any pictures I’ve seen.”
“I’m thinking of going back there for Christmas. I…um…want to ask my grandmother if she’ll crochet me another afghan.” As hot as he felt cuddled up to Brogan, an afghan didn’t sound very appealing right now, but by winter it would.
“That’s nice, Jack. But first you’d better grovel. If I happened to be your grandmother, I’d expect you to beg my pardon from here to next Sunday before I’d even consider making you another afghan. You were mighty ungrateful, to say the least.”
“I’ll grovel.” There was more to this Christmas plan of his, but he hesitated. Oh, what the hell. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “Would you like to come with me?”
“To Nebraska?” Her eyes widened behind the glasses.
“Yeah. I could show you where I grew up, and you could show me all the things I missed—the hideouts I could’ve built, the trouble I could’ve gotten into if I hadn’t spent so much time inside with my Nintendo. And you could meet my grandmother. I think the two of you would get along great.” His heart pounded with anxiety as he waited to see what she’d say.
“That’s a nice idea, but I don’t have the money for a plane ticket to Nebraska. Between helping Mama with the rent and paying the gas and insurance on my car, I don’t have a lot left over.”
At least it wasn’t a flat no. “My treat.” Jack often wondered what he’d ever do with the money that kept piling up in his bank account. He’d been meaning to buy a new car, but he kept forgetting about it, and he liked the car he had, anyway. He could certainly afford a couple of tickets to Nebraska.
“Oh, Jack, that’s sweet, but I couldn’t accept something that expensive from you.”
Still not a no, but yes was getting farther away. “Why not?”
“If I let you pay for my plane ticket, then you might think…well, it’s only natural for you to expect—”
“More sex?”
She flushed. “Am I wrong?”
“Yes.” Not that he wouldn’t love to have more sex from her, but that was a separate issue. “Damn it, what kind of guy do you think I am, the kind who expects you to trade sex for a plane trip?” Then he lifted his head and glanced at the unconscious slime-bucket he was helping nurse back to life. “You think I’m like Brogan?”
“No, of course not! It’s just that—when men buy things for you, they usually have other things in mind. And maybe that’s fair. I’ve had to count pennies all my life, so I know what it means to get your money’s worth. After all—”
“Whoa right there. Maybe a lot of guys do think like that. I don’t. To me, it’s very simple. If I’d like you to go somewhere with me, then I should pick up the tab. If you want me to go somewhere with you, then you pick up the tab. Having sex doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
“But the only tab I could afford to pick up would be for an ice-cream cone. Most guys can buy dinner, movie tickets, a weekend trip. Don’t you see? It’s not equal.”
“Trust me, for any guy lucky enough to have you go along, it’s equal. So, will you come to Nebraska if I promise there’s not a sexual surcharge?”
She grinned. “Sexual surcharge. That’s funny.”
“I’m a regular laugh riot.” She still hadn’t answered him, but he was afraid to push it for fear she’d say no. That would be very depressing, and he didn’t want to be depressed besides being hungry, thirsty, and overheated.
“Getting back to the subject of sex,” he said. “You need to know something. I would love to have sex with you after we get back to Honolulu. Not connected with me buying something. Just because it’s so amazing between us.”
“Jack, it wouldn’t be the sa—”
“I know you’ve said that, but I can’t believe it. I think it’s worth at least a try.”
“And if we try and it turns out bad?”
Never in a million years. “It won’t.”
She shook her head. “You can’t guarantee that.”
“Sure I can. I—”
Brogan moaned.
Jack pulled away from him so fast he damned near squeezed the trigger on the gun. With the size of the gun, he might’ve blown a hole in Brogan and himself with one shot. Shaking, he scrambled to his feet and pointed the gun at Brogan’s head.
“Oh, Jack, for heaven’s sake.”
“I do not want him to wake up while the two of us are all cuddly-wuddly.”
“You had a gun barrel in his ear. That should protect your manly reputation.”
Brogan moaned again and his eyes fluttered open. Then they closed again.
“What do you think?” Jack murmured.
“The bleeding’s about stopped,” Gen said. “And his skin feels warmer, so I think he’s doing better. You’d better go get the cord and we’ll tie him up before he comes completely awake.”
“Good idea.” Jack walked over, picked up the blood-encrusted cord, and remembered how it got that way. He hurried back over to her. “Gen, let me look at your hand.”
“It’s okay.”
“Let me see it.” He crouched down beside her and took her left hand in his. Even with blurry vision, he could tell it was a mass of dried blood. “Shit. Stop nursing this maniac so we can go down to t
he water and soak your hand.”
“There’s no time.” She pulled her hand away. “Let’s roll him over and tie him up so we can get another load of guavas before dark.”
“I’ll tie him up. You go rinse your hand in the water.”
“It’s all r—”
“Gen, do it.” When he saw all that blood on her he wished like hell that he could choke the life out of Brogan. He didn’t trust the gun to finish him off, but choking would be an excellent alternative if the gun failed. Too bad he’d promised Gen not to kill the guy. He had promised, though, so Brogan got to live a little longer.
He tied him up good and tight, yanking on the cord a little harder than necessary, because it made him feel better.
“Jack!”
He glanced up to see Gen running back toward him. He leaped to his feet. “What’s the matter?”
She was panting. “I just saw that scruffy old trawler. Nick’s pickup men are coming this way.”
Although still far from land, Matt had to slow the boat considerably so he didn’t run up on any submerged reefs. The albatross got way ahead, and he wasn’t sorry to see the bird go. This trip was already spooky enough.
Eventually Lincoln returned, looking subdued.
“How’s your mom?” Matt asked.
“Okay, I guess. She’s all, I’m fine, I’m fine. Go back up to the cockpit and get the sandwiches while I make some new ones. But she’s, like, still freaked. And it’s my fault.”
Matt took pity on the kid. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. I can see why you got so excited about the albatross. I flipped out the first time I saw one.”
“It’s a big honkin’ bird, isn’t it?”
“Yep.” Matt decided not to go into the bad luck thing.
“Well, I’d better get the eats shoveled up. At least Mom didn’t, like, break the plate.”
“I think it’s that stuff that doesn’t break, but it wouldn’t have mattered if it broke.”
“Easy for you to say. I’m all, There goes my allowance if it breaks.” He started tossing ham, bread, and lettuce back on the plate. “Can I throw this over the side? For the fish?”
“Why not?”
Lincoln picked up the last of the spilled food and stood. “Isn’t there something spooky about an albatross? Like a superstition or something?”
Nerd in Shining Armor (The Nerd Series Book 1) Page 26