Within Striking Distance

by Ingrid Weaver

  Jake had to flex his fingers a few times after he put down the phone. He’d been holding it so tightly his hand had cramped. Caution? Becky had said he was too cautious, but when it came to her, he’d been worrying about the wrong things. He snatched the receiver once more and dialed Len’s number.

  “UM, BECKY?” Tara Dalton set two glasses on the counter of Becky’s tiny kitchen. “Are you sure you should be having any of this in your condition?”

  Becky made a face at her friend and jabbed the button on the blender. Her friends had meant well when they’d come over to check on her, but Becky needed company and the distraction of a girls’ night more than she needed sympathy. “I’m fine,” she said over the noise. “I didn’t take any meds except an aspirin and that was early this morning. Nicole, tell her.”

  Nicole squeezed past her to position a lime on the cutting board. “It’s okay, Tara. Becky’s right. Alcohol in moderation won’t hurt.”

  “It’s for medicinal purposes anyway,” Becky said. She shut off the blender. “I tried napping but I’ve been jumpy all day. I could use some loosening up.”

  “You’re still feeling the aftereffects of that attack,” Nicole said.

  “I don’t know why. Jake’s the one who fought the guy off.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’ll take a while for the memory to fade.” Nicole sliced the lime in half. “It’s perfectly normal so don’t worry.”

  “That’s a low-cal lime, right, Nicole?”

  She laughed. “Absolutely. And as long as we stand up while we drink, there are no calories in the margaritas.”

  “Well, I think you’re holding up well, considering,” Tara said. “How’s your wrist?”

  “I can barely feel it.” Becky held up her bandaged hand and extended the fingers of her other hand toward it as if she were modeling a pair of gloves. “I don’t have another job until Thursday. Lucky for me, it’s modeling jeans so the bruises on my knees won’t show. I should be able to get rid of this gauze by then.”

  “As long as the wound’s healing all right and you’re sensible,” Nicole said.

  “I wouldn’t have been hurt at all if I’d stayed out of Jake’s way. He was amazing.”

  “Amazing?”

  “Awesome. He’s very strong, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t realize that. He looks so harmless.”

  “Mmm, I wouldn’t describe him like that. Under those loose shirts he wears he’s all muscle. He’s got great body control, too.”

  Tara reached up to take a third glass from the cupboard and set it beside the blender. “So is he Harrison Ford or George Clooney?”

  Nicole raised her eyebrows. “What’s this?”

  “Becky said that’s who Jake reminded her of.”

  “She did? That’s interesting, but I can’t say I noticed any resemblance.”

  “It was more that he reminded her of the characters they played,” Tara explained.

  “You should have seen how worried she looked when she thought something might have happened to him,” Nicole said.

  “When was that?” Tara demanded.

  “Last week, when I met her at the airport.”

  “Hmm, that is interesting. I wonder what it means.”

  Becky propped her hands on her hips. “Ladies, I’m right here. Stop talking about me as if I’m not.”

  “Then talk to us,” Tara said. “Tell us what’s going on with you and Jake.”

  “I suppose we’re seeing each other.”

  “You suppose? What does that mean?”

  “We had a great time together in Chicago over the weekend. He’s a really nice guy.”

  “But?” Nicole prodded.

  Becky felt her cheeks heat. She picked up a slice of lime and rubbed it around the rim of a glass, then dipped the glass in the bowl of salt. “It’s kind of complicated.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s the Gina thing. My feelings are probably confused.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Becky handed the glass to Tara and prepared another. “I like him a lot. I feel good when I’m around him because he’s smart, funny and incredibly sensitive. He’s self-confident, too, without being pushy about it.”

  “He struck me as a responsible man,” Nicole said.

  “Oh, he’s that, all right. From the moment I met him, I felt I could trust him. We had this…connection. I don’t know what else to call it.”

  “I’m still not seeing a downside,” Tara said.

  These were her best friends, Becky thought. They’d shared all the ups and downs of their lives with each other, and she trusted them like the sisters she’d never had. Why was she hesitating to share her feelings for Jake?

  Maybe because she still hadn’t figured them out. She fixed a glass for herself and poured the margaritas. “I’ve got a serious crush on him,” she admitted finally. “But it might be mixed up with the whole business of finding my family.”

  Nicole sipped her drink. “You’ve got a point. Trying to find out who you are has to be stirring up some powerful emotions.”

  “It is. This just isn’t the right time for me to be thinking about a man.”

  “Is there ever a right time?” Tara asked. “Romance was the last thing on my mind when I met Adam.”

  “When it’s right, it’s right,” Nicole said. “You and Adam Sanford were meant to be.”

  Tara smiled. “That’s true, but my love life isn’t news anymore. We’re talking about Becky’s. Let’s cut to the chase. Is Jake a good kisser?”

  Becky had been about to take a drink. She sputtered against the rim of her glass.

  “Well?” Tara persisted.

  “Yes. He’s wonderful. But it’s still confusing.”

  Nicole put her hand on Becky’s arm. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re wise to take things slow. You do have a lot to deal with right now. Because of that fire we’ll need to do another DNA test, which is going to drag out the waiting for you again. Once we get the results, you’ll need to give yourself time to come to terms with whatever they prove.”

  “They’re going to prove that I am Gina. Why else would someone want to sabotage them?”

  “That’s a good question,” Nicole said. “Did you hear anything from the police?”

  “The lieutenant handling the case gave me a follow-up call this morning, but he didn’t tell me much. I expect that Jake’s busy checking out the other Gina claimants. There were forty-two of them, you know.”

  “You’re kidding! That many?”

  “Those are only the ones who have come forward,” Becky said. “Who knows how many are out there still hoping for their chance? Any of them could have a partner who was willing to sabotage Jake’s investigation.”

  Tara grasped Becky’s shoulder. “You’d better be careful.”

  “I will be. Anyway, this will all be over once that second test is done.”

  “That’s true,” Tara said, squeezing lightly. “But whatever those test results show isn’t going to change who you are. I know Nicole told you to take things slow, but if your gut is telling you that Jake’s the one, he’ll still be the one no matter what your last name turns out to be.”

  Becky looked from one friend to the other. One of the reasons she loved these women was because they were never afraid to tell each other the truth. In this case, they were both right. Unfortunately, that didn’t help sort out her feelings—they were more muddled than ever. She sighed, then lifted her glass and took a long swallow.

  “What is it?” Nicole asked. “You look thoughtful.”

  “I’m trying to decide which we need more, a group hug or another margarita.”

  They laughed and somehow managed both.

  BECKY HADN’T REALIZED she’d fallen asleep until the knock on the door woke her. She pushed her hair off her face and squinted at the clock on her DVD player. It was only a few minutes past ten. Tara and Nicole had cut the evening short and had left her apartment less than twenty minutes ago, say
ing she needed her sleep. Evidently, they’d been right. She’d nodded off on the couch.

  The knocking started again. Becky yawned, rolled to her feet and padded to the door.

  Jake’s voice came through before she reached it. “Becky! Are you all right?”

  She blinked. The urgency in his tone brought her fully awake. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “We need to talk. Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” she said. She straightened her blouse, glanced down to make sure her jeans were fastened and opened the door.

  As soon as he crossed the threshold of her apartment, he grasped her arm and gave her a head-to-toe inspection. When he was done, he scowled and turned to lock and chain the door behind him. “Sorry to barge in on you like this but you weren’t answering your phone and I got worried.”

  “I didn’t hear it,” she said, leading the way to the living room. “When did you call?”

  “I’ve been trying to get you for hours.”

  “That’s funny. I didn’t hear…” Her words trailed off as she looked at the answering machine on the hall table. The red light was off. She checked the phone, then smiled weakly. “Sorry. I turned the ringer off in the afternoon. I was trying to get some sleep before my friends came over. It wasn’t any use, though. I was too jumpy.”

  “You had company? They should have let you rest.”

  “I just told you, I was too restless to sleep. Besides, they’re my friends. They knew exactly what I needed, which doesn’t include being babied.”

  He rubbed his face. “Don’t be annoyed with me, Becky. I was concerned.”

  “I’m not annoyed, Jake, but honestly, you didn’t need to be concerned. I might not have had combat training like you have, but I’m not made of spun glass.”

  At the mention of glass, he took her hand so he could look at her bandage. “How’s the cut feeling? Any soreness?”

  It was a good thing he didn’t know about her bruises, she thought. She realized she should be grateful that he was sensitive enough to worry. She’d just been singing his praises to Tara and Nicole. He was a good man. Why did she feel like grinding her teeth? “It’s fine. I barely feel it.”

  He looked at her face, as if checking to see whether or not she was telling the truth.

  She sighed. “Jake, you’re not still feeling responsible because I was hurt, are you? It wasn’t your fault. It was mine for getting in the way.”

  His forehead furrowed. “Sorry, Becky. I can’t help it.”

  “It’s okay. I suspect this protectiveness thing you’ve got going is hardwired into you.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “Well, I was hoping there was some other reason you might have come over to see me.”

  Without another word, he caught her chin in his hand, tipped up her face and kissed her.

  Becky’s heart skipped, then settled into a heavy throb. Pleasure, pure and simple, washed over her so quickly her knees went weak. She closed her eyes and splayed her fingers on Jake’s chest.

  It was remarkable how Jake’s kisses always felt different. Sometimes they were gentle or playful, other times they were delicious enough to curl her toes. This one was hard to describe. She could feel the fine edge of exhaustion humming through his body, yet there was power in his embrace. The familiar sense of belonging, of home, wrapped around her senses.

  This was what she’d needed more than a nap or margaritas. No matter what was happening around them, she always felt better with Jake. She smiled against his mouth, then rested her forehead in the crook of his neck. His scent, the familiar mix of cloves and male skin, surrounded her like an extension of their kiss. “That’s better.”

  He stroked her hair. “I guess I should have done that right away.”

  “It would have been nice.”

  “There’s that word again.”

  She laughed softly. “It’s because I have trouble finding the right words for you. You’re a very complex man, Jake.”

  “Me? No way. What you see is what you get.”

  She lifted her head and leaned back so that she could focus on his face. His jaw was darkened with end-of-the-day beard stubble. Although his gaze sparkled with warmth, the skin around his eyes looked taut with weariness. Every one of his forty-eight years showed tonight. That wasn’t a bad thing. His age made him look solid and reliable, a man who knew what he wanted and would take all the time he needed to get it. Becky felt a quiver of awareness at the thought.

  Oh, yes, she did like what she saw. She smiled and touched his dimple. “Can I get you something? Tea? Some juice? I don’t have any beer, but there should be some margarita fixings left.”

  “No, thanks. I won’t stay that long.”

  The pleasure from their kiss began to ebb. His voice had shifted to his professional tone, the one he’d often used when he’d still been working on her case. “Then you really did come over here just to check up on me.”

  Instead of replying directly, he took her hand and led her toward the couch. “There’s a reason for that, Becky. That’s why I need to talk to you.”

  She sat beside him and curled her feet onto the cushion. “Have they found the man who attacked you?”

  “Not yet, but Len got a hit on his fingerprints. It’s a man by the name of Ralph Bocci. He’s an ex-con. Have you ever heard of him?”

  “No. Why should I?”

  “You never heard his name mentioned, maybe when you were still living with your father?”

  “No, I’m certain I didn’t. I had never seen him before that afternoon outside your office. Why?” She pressed backward into the corner of the couch. “You don’t think my father put him up to what happened yesterday, do you?”

  “I’m sorry, Becky, but I have to consider all the possibilities.”

  “Well, that’s not one of them. My dad never would have asked someone to spy on you. That’s not like him. Just because he doesn’t approve of me looking for my birth parents doesn’t mean he’d do something criminal. Where would he have met someone like this Bocci person, anyway? My dad lives in Melbourne.”

  “He might have known him in his youth.”

  “What do you mean, ‘in his youth’? My father was never involved with people like that.”

  Jake glanced away. “The police are still looking for Bocci. He was due to report to his parole officer today but he didn’t show up. He’s been living in Indianapolis since his release from the state prison ten months ago. His P.O. hadn’t known he’d left town.”

  “Back up a minute. You didn’t answer my question. Why did you think my father knew Bocci?”

  “I was mixed up.”

  “No, you weren’t. You’ve got a steel-trap memory. Jake, tell me the truth about my father.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have guessed you wouldn’t have known. Floyd has an arrest record. The most serious was an assault charge arising from a bar fight. He was twenty-one at the time. He moved in some rough circles when he was young.”

  Her first impulse was to deny it, but she couldn’t. What Jake had said had the ring of truth. Her father did have a short fuse, but a lot of people made mistakes in their youth that they regretted later. And as crimes went, a bar fight wasn’t that serious. What did it matter that her parents hadn’t told her? She shouldn’t be surprised. They had both been good at keeping secrets from her. If she was Gina Grosso, then they had lied to her for her entire life. If she was Gina…

  She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs, struck by an ugliness she hadn’t wanted to think about before.

  “Becky, talk to me. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt your feelings.”

  She’d been so focused on hoping that she might be Gina, and fantasizing about belonging to the Grosso family, that she had purposely avoided examining the issue of how she’d ended up with the Peters. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

  “Becky, no.” He slid closer and reached out to touch her face but she tipped her head away. He dropped his arm to
the back of the couch. “I think you’re a very courageous woman.”

  “It must seem ridiculous for me to get indignant at the idea my father would know a criminal, because if I’m Gina Grosso, then he must be a kidnapper. My mother, too. It doesn’t seem possible that the people I knew were capable of that, but they must have been. They stole a baby from her family. That’s got to be one of the cruelest things anyone can do. They were criminals.”

  “If they did steal you, they were desperate.”

  “I never wanted to consider this. It felt disloyal so I just glossed over it in my mind. Of course my parents wouldn’t have wanted me to dig into my origins. What they must have done was despicable.”

  “They wanted a child. Floyd’s arrest record might have kept them from adopting through legal channels.”

  “So they might have solved that by stealing a newborn baby from the Nashville hospital nursery. My God, Jake. How did Patsy survive a blow like that? How did Dean? How could I even think of being happy about being Gina when it means there was all this suffering connected with my birth?”

  “It was over thirty years ago, Becky. Dean and Patsy are strong people. They got past it. All they care about now is finding their child alive.”

  She pressed her forehead against her knees. “They thought their baby was dead.”

  “That’s what the police told them. It’s why Dean stopped looking.”

  “It’s awful.”

  “Yes, it was a bad time for them. That’s why I’m trying to be so careful about getting their hopes up now.”

  “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time about that.”

  “It’s understandable. I might be hardwired to be protective, but you seem to be hardwired to take chances.” He rested his fingers on her forearm. “You’re a caring and generous woman, Becky. I admire that. I don’t want to see you get hurt because you’ve put your faith in the wrong person.”

  She looked up. “You’re talking about my father again.”

  He nodded, his gaze on the bandage that circled her wrist. “I need to warn you to take precautions. There’s a possibility that other crimes could be involved. If Bocci and your adoptive father are working together—”