Genevieve smiled. “Now you’re sounding like my mama.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Your mama is one of the smartest women I’ve ever met. Good thing I have Lincoln to vouch for me, or she wouldn’t give me the time of day. Which reminds me, you’re invited for our boat ride this evening, you know. I have to warn you, though, that I’ve promised Lincoln he can drive, and the boy has the soul of a hot rodder.”
Genevieve laughed. “He said the very same about you. Not exactly those words, but close enough.”
“I enjoy that kid.” Talk of Lincoln seemed to lift the shadows from his eyes. “But do you think there’s any chance he’ll have normal hair someday?”
“Someday.” Genevieve was really happy for Mama and Lincoln, because Matt looked like a stay-around kind of guy. Her mama would put him through his paces, but Genevieve thought the ending would turn out happy for everyone.
“So do you want to come with us?” Matt asked. “I’ll let you drive, too, if I can pry Lincoln’s fingers off the wheel.”
“Thank you, but to tell you the truth, I could use some time to myself.” And that’s probably what she’d get. Seven-thirty would come and go without Jack showing up to take her out for a double-dip sugar cone. She didn’t expect him to remember, but just in case a miracle happened, she wanted to be there to answer the door.
“I can understand that,” Matt said. “I’m sure your mama’s been hovering.”
Genevieve rolled her eyes. “You can’t even imagine. I’m grateful you’re taking her somewhere so she’ll stop fussing over me.”
“Don’t be too hard on her. She was pretty darned scared. We all were.”
Genevieve looked up at this kind man and hoped her mama wouldn’t hold him off for too long. “You really care about her, don’t you?”
He grinned sheepishly. “It shows, huh?”
“Yes, but it looks good on you. If you need another person to vouch for you to Mama—”
“Whoa.” He held up a hand. “Thanks, but no thanks. I think one kid campaigning is plenty. If you both start in, she’ll think we’re ganging up on her. I don’t want her to feel pressured. Everything will be fine. I’m a patient guy.”
Genevieve lifted her eyebrows.
Matt grinned. “Okay, semi-patient. It’ll work out.”
“I hope so.” She smiled at him. “You deserve each other, and I mean that in the nicest way.”
Genevieve had a harder time convincing her mama that she didn’t want to take the boat ride. Annabelle obviously didn’t want to let her out of her sight. But finally, after Genevieve explained that if she didn’t get some time alone she would go crazier than a bedbug in a cornhusk mattress, her mama finally agreed to go off and leave her.
Genevieve really did think she might go crazy, but not from too much company. She’d had too little company—of the Jack variety. It truly puzzled her that she could miss him so much she hurt. But that was the sad situation she found herself in.
At six o’clock she made herself a turkey sandwich, ate half, and put the other in the refrigerator. Lincoln would eat it tonight—he could be counted on to finish off any and all leftovers.
She’d dressed in the kind of clothes that said Oh, did we have a date for ice cream? I barely remembered. Her white shorts were clean but she’d bought them last summer, so they weren’t special. Her cropped tank top was from a shopping trip two summers ago. It was red, which wouldn’t matter to Jack, who wouldn’t be able to tell if it was some flattering color or not.
Although she hadn’t bothered with shoes, she’d combed her hair and put on a little makeup. She’d left off her lipstick, though. Fresh lipstick was a dead giveaway that you were expecting company, that you were eager to see someone. Which she surely was, damn it.
To pass the time until seven-thirty, she picked up her whittling, the same little I’iwi bird she’d been working on the night before she’d left with Nick. The person she’d been then seemed so much younger than the person she was now. Surviving an experience that nearly killed you could have that kind of effect on someone, she decided.
Because it was still light outside, she took her carving out in the tiny backyard. They had three plastic chairs back there with faded cushions on the seats and a round plastic table where they ate sometimes. She sat in one of the chairs and started working on the little bird’s beak. Her next-door neighbor was playing a boom box outside, so she wouldn’t hear Jack drive up, but from this position she could see the street. She wasn’t likely to miss him.
Of course he wouldn’t arrive. At this very minute he was probably hunkered down over his blessed computer screen, writing a brilliant program for Matt, so that Rainbow wouldn’t go into bankruptcy. To expect him to run over here and take her out for ice cream was selfish, in a way.
Except he’d promised, and he knew how much was riding on that promise. At least he’d known when they were back on the island. Now, though, he didn’t seem to remember that she existed.
A phone call would have been nice. It wouldn’t have killed him to stop by her desk today, either. He had to have lunch sometime, and they could have eaten together, if he’d thought about her at all. Well, it wasn’t like she hadn’t predicted this exact thing.
As she sat whittling away at the bird’s beak, it came to her that maybe she was asking too much of Jack. Come to think of it, by leaving this date up to him, she’d abandoned him to totally take care of himself. She knew good and well that when he was preoccupied with his work, he wasn’t good at that. Rather than demand that he drop everything and pay attention to her, she’d be a whole lot better person if she’d take some ice cream over to him.
Unfortunately, she didn’t know whether he was at work or at home, and he might not answer the phone at either place. When Jack concentrated, he really concentrated. Matt would know where Jack was, but Matt was out on a boat with her mama and Lincoln.
Shoot. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she’d take Jack any way she could get him. Maybe he wouldn’t always know she was there, but once she got his attention, he gave her a hundred and ten percent. That more than made up for the times he might forget all about her. She was even willing to fly in the face of astrological wisdom and link up with a Taurus. Jack had that kind of hold on her.
Okay, it was decided, then. Tomorrow she’d use her lunch hour to track him down. She’d take him his two favorite flavors of ice cream, double chocolate fudge and strawberry cheesecake, and she’d tell him no more tests. She got little squiggly feelings in her tummy as she thought of what she and Jack might do with that ice cream. Maybe she should take it to him after work instead of during lunch.
Something rustled behind her. She put down her knife and started to turn, thinking it was the neighbor’s tabby cat. “Hey, Lillibeth,” she called. “Are you—”
An arm snaked around her throat, cutting off her wind.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The way Jack saw it, he had three priorities: getting the new software program ready for testing, fixing Gen’s pink suitcase, and making sure he took her out for ice cream. Sleep wasn’t a priority, so he didn’t bother much with that.
By six-thirty on the night he’d promised to pick up Gen, he had the software project in decent shape. Not perfect yet, but he was on the right track, and he could afford this break. Gen’s suitcase, the handle neatly repaired by a shoe shop, sat by his front door. He trimmed his beard, jumped in the shower, and dressed in the white shorts and white T-shirt Mrs. Applegate had bought for him.
She’d heard about his adventure and had come over wanting to do something to help, so he’d given her a shirt and a pair of slacks for size and asked her to go shopping for him. He’d explained the black program that Gen had outlined and given Mrs. Applegate a wad of cash.
His neighbor was a careful shopper, and he couldn’t believe how many things she’d walked in with last night. She’d followed his directions about buying a lot of black, but she’d also bought him some
white stuff, which she said would be much more comfortable in the summer and would look good with his tan. He’d decided that she was right about wearing white in the summer, and white seemed like the right color for an ice cream date, as long as he was careful with the double chocolate fudge.
About four this morning he’d taken a break from writing code to make a test run over to Gen’s house so he’d know how long the trip would take. Fifteen minutes, but he’d add another five to allow for more traffic. At four in the morning her mom’s house had been dark, and Jack had parked outside for a few minutes, thinking about Gen inside, sound asleep.
While he was deep into his project he hadn’t missed her quite so much, but this morning he’d ached so badly he could barely stand it. If he’d known which bedroom window belonged to her, he might have thrown stones against it to wake her up. But he hadn’t known, and he still had plenty of work to do on the Rainbow program, so he’d forced himself to drive home again.
Tonight would be an ice cream date—nothing more. Even if Gen acted like she wanted it to turn into more, Jack was going to do his best to resist her. He wanted to impress upon her that he was a man of his word when it came to this relationship. His track record with women had been terrible, so now he had to prove that he could be reliable. If he was very careful about coming through on all his promises to Gen, he might have a chance with her.
At ten minutes past seven he left his house. At twenty minutes past seven he ran out of gas.
After the first moment of terror, which Genevieve thought would happen to anybody grabbed suddenly from behind, she got furious. She was sick and tired of Nick Brogan running around trying to kill innocent folks.
So when he hauled her up out of the chair by the neck, she tried to stomp on his bad foot.
“Stop it!” he yelled. “I’ve got your knife! I’ll slit your throat if you don’t stop it!”
“You will not.” She kept struggling and stomping, wishing she had on shoes. She tried to get an elbow in his stomach, but he pulled her up hard against him, and he was stronger than she was. She tried screaming a little, but decided that was a waste of time. Nobody would hear her over the rap music blasting away next door.
Nick smelled like disinfectant and sweat, not a good combo. Having such close contact with his body made her skin crawl. “Look out, Nick. I’m gonna throw up.”
“I don’t believe you.” He was breathing hard, but he must have recovered his strength in the hospital because his arms felt like iron around her neck and ribs. “We’re going in the house now.”
“No, we’re not.” She brought her heel down as hard as she could on his bad toe.
His yowl of pain was the most unholy sound she’d ever heard. She struggled out of his grip and started for the house. She was inside, gasping and fumbling with the lock, when he crashed through the door, flinging her against the wall.
He lunged for her, his face a mask of pain and fury. She fought him off, hitting, kicking, and scratching, but he got his hands around her throat.
She tried to pry them loose, but rage must have made him even stronger. His thumbs pressed against her windpipe. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t…
Jack looked at the gas gauge and wondered why he hadn’t run out long before this. The needle had been on empty when he’d driven to the airport to meet Nick and Gen. Matt had taken him to the airport yesterday to get his car, and Jack hadn’t given the gas situation another thought, not even early this morning when he’d taken his test run to Gen’s. Maybe Gen was right, and he didn’t deserve a classy woman like her.
He had no gas can. Even if he ran to the station, bought one, got gas, ran back, and put it in, he’d lose too much time. Damn it all. Damn it to hell.
No, by God. He wasn’t giving up. If he went on foot, he could cut through some areas he’d otherwise have to drive around, so the trip would be shorter. By sprinting all the way there, he might only be a couple of minutes late. They could take her car for ice cream.
Arriving panting and sweaty wasn’t how he’d planned to begin this date, but Gen would have to give him credit for trying his best. Abandoning his car, he pocketed the keys, grabbed her pink suitcase, and started running.
When Gen came to, she tried to lift her hands and discovered they were tied to the back of the kitchen chair she was sitting in. Nick had ripped up one of Mama’s favorite dish towels to do it, the one with pretty seashells on the border. That infuriated Genevieve.
She was also tied to Mama’s chair, the one Mama always used, and that infuriated her even more. She never sat in this chair. Neither did Lincoln. This was Mama’s seat. Nick sat in Lincoln’s chair, eating the other half of her turkey sandwich, the part she’d saved for Lincoln. She wanted to wring his worthless neck.
When she swallowed, her throat hurt, but she wanted to know a few things, sore throat or not. “Why are you messing with me, Nick Brogan? You must have got loose from the hospital, so why aren’t you hightailing it out of here?”
He smiled at her. “Ah, we’re awake.” He took another bite of the sandwich, chewed and swallowed before answering. “In order to hightail it out of here, my little hick from the sticks, I need some help. You’re my bargaining chip.” He surveyed her from head to foot.
She was suddenly cold, even though it was close to ninety degrees in the house. “You’ll never get away with it.”
“I think so. People seem to think a lot of you. They wouldn’t want you to end up dead. And now I want you to make a phone call to Matt Murphy.”
She used Jack’s line from the island. “Gee, I would love to, but I’m all tied up.”
“I’ll dial the phone.” He picked up the cordless where it was lying on the table beside his plate. “You just talk. Tell him I want safe passage to Fiji for you and me, and once I get there, you’ll be sent back, unharmed.”
“I’m so sure he’ll believe that, you toad-sucking weasel.”
“He’ll have to take his chances. I know Matt, and he’s already riddled with guilt because he put you and Farley in danger. He won’t want to take any chances on getting you killed, especially now that he’s sweet on your mother. If something happened to you, that would put a real crimp in his romantic plans.” He picked up the last of the sandwich. “Incidentally, good sandwich. Much better than hospital food.”
“If I’d known you were coming I would have made it even better. I have some yummy rat poison I could have mixed in with the mayonnaise to give it some zing.”
“I didn’t think you’d expect me to show up. I like to keep one step ahead of people.”
“That must be hard, seeing as how you shot yourself in the foot.”
He grimaced. “I blame you for that, Genevieve. And just like I promised you back on the island, you’ll pay for it, along with all the other things you’ve done to me. I used to think you were sweet, but you’re not.”
“I used to think you were human, but you’re not.” She glanced at the kitchen clock. Seven thirty-two. Not only was she being held hostage by a maniac, Jack wasn’t coming to buy her ice cream. Under the circumstances that was a good thing. She didn’t want Jack getting mixed up in this. Still, it was kind of sad, thinking that he’d forgotten his promise. She didn’t blame him—that’s the way geniuses acted. When she got out of this current mess with Nick, she’d tell Jack it was okay that he’d forgotten about the ice cream.
Nick swallowed the last of the sandwich and picked up the phone. “Time to let Matt know we have a new ball game, new rules.”
“You won’t get him. He’s not home.”
“And you would know this because…?”
“He took my mama and Lincoln for…dinner.”
“Then I’ll try his cell.”
“I heard him tell Mama he’d turn it off, so they could have some peace and quiet.”
“You’re just saying that.” Nick punched in a number and held the cordless to his ear. “Shit. He never turns that cell off.”
Genevieve was so glad that M
ama hated cell phones. “They’ll be back any minute. You need to get out of here, Nick. If three people walk in the door, you can’t control all of them.”
“I can if I have a knife at your throat.”
“That little whittling knife?” She knew even a whittling knife could do her in, but she tried to pretend she wasn’t worried. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Not that one, although it would have worked.” He reached down to the floor and held up her mama’s ten-inch butcher knife. “I was referring to this little knife.”
“Oh.” Although she was trying to stay mad and not get scared, looking at that knife, which Mama kept razor sharp, bothered her more than she wanted him to know. “You wouldn’t kill me. Then you wouldn’t have a hostage.”
“True, but you never want to test a guy with nothing more to lose. One way or another, I’m not going to prison. It’s Fiji or Hell for me.”
Something in his eyes told her that he meant what he said. Now she had to hope nobody came—not Jack, not her mama, Lincoln, or Matt. She had to think of a way out of this before anybody else showed up, or somebody was bound to get hurt.
At seven thirty-five, the doorbell rang.
Genevieve knew it was Jack, sure as shootin’, and she didn’t want him in here. “That’s probably my Avon lady,” she said. “Don’t answer the door and she’ll go away.”
Nick looked at her with a cold smile on his lips. “That’s not the Avon lady. That’s Jackson Farley, come to pick you up for ice cream. Who would have thought? I was sure you were right about him, and he’d forget completely. Well, Jackson will have to come in and join us, I’m afraid. He expects you to be here, and if you’re not, no telling what he’ll do.”
“Jack!” Genevieve screamed. “Nick’s here!”
Nick cursed and leaped up, placing the blade of the knife against her throat. Then she heard the front door crash open. That lock never had been any good.
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