“So, all this time we’ve had such sad meals of hot dogs and eggs, we could’ve been having pizza?”
Jake poked me back.
“No, princess. We’re not exactly in the usual pizza radius way the hell out here. I was saving it for a special occasion. A guy owed me a favor.”
As Jake placed the two boxes on the counter, I ran my fingers through his hair.
“And what exactly is the special occasion?”
Turning, Jake kissed me full on the lips. His hands sliding to my hips and drawing me to him, he said, “You.”
My lips slid to his ear, and I murmured, “Well, I can eat to that.”
And we did. As each pepperoni, olive, green pepper, and mushroom filled slice slid down our throats, as we ate with one hand and clasped fingers with the other, as we wiped off each other’s faces with napkins and licked each other’s stray sauce off our lips, we were blissfully, perfectly happy.
This man beside me was all I needed, all I would ever need. And as we slumped on the couch, in a mid-pizza, full-of-love daze, the words slid out of us.
“We’re in this together, you know,” I said.
“You’re the only one who truly has my best interests at heart.”
“You’ve more than shown me that you’re worthy of my trust.”
And Jake, my darling, handsome Jake, took my face in his hands and gave me a long, pizza-delicious kiss.
Then he said, “Thank you. I’m so happy I met you.”
We curled up into each other, passing the last slice back and forth, kissing each other once we were finished, our hands clasping and unclasping, thanking our lucky stars for our paths crossing, even if in the most bizarre of ways.
Chapter Fourteen
Alice
I awoke to voices in the kitchen. It was Jake on the phone again, and the other voice I could just make out on the line was…Paul’s.
My stomach twisted sickly, but I forced myself to keep still.
“No, Paul. I told you the deal’s off. I don’t care if you double what you’re paying me.”
There was the sound of Paul’s angry yet hard to make out reply. Then Jake said, “No. For the last time, no, Paul. You want to know what you can’t double? That incredible woman you were trying to screw over.”
A laugh, then: “Yeah. I guess you could say she got to me. Good-bye, Paul.”
When I opened my eyes, Jake was looking straight at me.
“You heard that, huh?”
I nodded, and he shrugged and then smiled.
“Good. Now I don’t have to tell you. It’s over, for good—all of it.”
His face darkened.
“Though we may be on the run for a bit.”
I still couldn’t quite speak.
I had already known it, but seeing proof of it so irrefutably like this was dumbfounding. So it had really been true. The man who’d had me kidnapped, who had ruined my wedding, had nearly scared me half to death, was the very man I had been concerned about worrying and betraying this whole time. My husband-to-be. Paul. How could he have done this to me?
“If it’s any consolation, he had made me promise to take it easy on you during the kidnapping,” Jake said.
I said nothing. That wasn’t any consolation at all. The man I had been about to join my life with had been ransoming me to get money out of my father.
“He wasn’t doing it just to earn some extra cash,” Jake said. “A recent deal of his fell through.”
I scrutinized the equivocal expression on his face.
“Are you…defending him?”
Jake shook his head.
“No. I just…” He put his hand on my shoulder. “I just wanted to make this easier.”
I shrugged him off.
“And you…”
He put his hand on my shoulder, and I shrugged it off again.
“I what?”
I whipped around, staring into the face of the man I thought I knew.
“You knew all this time. After everything that’s happened, after all our talks…you only told me a few hours ago. And like this?”
Jake’s head was hung, his eyes dull and lowered.
“What if I had escaped?” I continued. “Or what if I had wanted to be taken back home? Would you have let me? Has any of this been real? Would you have let me go back to him?”
Jake’s head whipped up. Now his eyes were fiery.
“Never.” He grasped both my shoulders, directing his words straight to me. “No. I would’ve followed you until I could’ve told you. Kidnapped you again if I had to. Alice, I tried to tell you; I did.”
Every part of his face was alive, pulsing with tension. God, he was so angry…and so sexy. Despite my best efforts, laughter bubbled out of me.
“Would you have actually kidnapped me again?”
Jake kissed me.
“Maybe.”
He picked me up and twirled me around. Placing me down, he directed his plea to my already-lowering smile.
“The important thing is that I wouldn’t have just sat there and let you ruin your life, just how I’m not going to sit here now and let you question for a second what we have—the most real feeling I’ve ever had in my life.”
His eyes were so earnest, so wide and such a deep green that it seemed as if I could see into his heart, his soul, which told me just how much he meant the words he’d just said.
“Now,” Jake said, his hand around my waist, “are you going to make me lift you and spin you again until you give me an answer?”
Drawing back, I couldn’t hold back another smile.
“Isn’t that blackmail?”
Jake kissed me.
“That would be one of my lesser crimes, and one I’d gladly commit for you.”
We laughed and he did it; he scooped me up and spun me around and around until the world around me disappeared into one laughing blur. I was howling for him to stop, and he was asking me if I’d made up my mind yet. And then, all of a sudden, he stopped. Disoriented, I was about to turn to him when he hurried past me, his face a white mask.
Knocking. Someone was knocking on the door—loudly. Peering through the window, Jake sighed and then opened it.
“Tom, you fucker, I nearly shit myself I was so scared!”
Laughter, then: “Jesus Christ. You’re actually here, Jake. You crazy motherfucker!”
The speaker, a beefy man sporting an old black T-shirt with a smiley face and middle finger on it, sauntered in, casting a look around the place.
“Saw the news, even had several guys tell me themselves, and still I couldn’t believe it. Had to see for myself.”
He flopped onto the couch, which gave a sort of gasp at its new hefty occupant.
“Well, here the fuck you are,” he said, throwing a tan, beefy arm out.
“Hey, Jake.”
At the door was a blonde with a cleavage-baring plaid top and a familiar smirk.
“Dalia,” Jake said in a strained voice. “You came too?”
Sauntering in, Dalia stopped in front of him, too close.
“‘Course I did. Miss a chance to see Jake Harker, the famous dangerous criminal?” She put a hand on his chest. “Never.”
Jake stepped back, shooting a glance at me. Dalia’s black-rimmed gaze followed his and stopped on me.
“Oh. My. God. The billionaire’s daughter! She’s actually here, just like… Hang on. Should she just be out like this?”
Now her long pink talon was pointing at me. Shaking his head, Jake took a step toward me.
“No, actually, it’s not like—”
I walked to the stairs.
“I’ll let you all catch up.”
Jake was one step behind me. His hand on my back, he said, “Let me explain it to them, babe.”
But I continued up the stairs.
“No, really. I have to go to the bathroom.”
And then I left. Inside the little wooden box of the bathroom, I stared into the cracked mirror and noticed how the
crack ran perfectly through the center of my face.
Right now, what was it I was feeling?
I inhaled, then exhaled, just how Donna had taught me to do when I was trying to reflect on what was going on inside me at our useless therapy sessions. That too-familiar blonde down there—was that what was bothering me? Or was it the dumpy gangster?
I stared back into my reflection’s eyes. It was that, a bit, but it was more than that. It was that they had talked to Jake in a way I never had, had known him in a way I never had. They had been crass and familiar.
Absently, I ran my second finger over the crack in the mirror. My finger came away bloody.
What if these people, these rude, trashy people, knew Jake better than I did, knew the real Jake? What if this—how Jake had been acting—was all a temporary put-on? What if even Jake wasn’t sure who he really was?
I stood there, but being stuck in the wooden box didn’t solve anything; it only made the questions descend upon me with a new fury.
Once I opened the door and walked out, I heard voices from downstairs.
“No. She’s not like that, okay? She could’ve turned me in a ton of times already and hasn’t. I’m telling you, Alice isn’t like that.”
I walked over to the top of the stairs, and from his spot in the middle of the couch, Jake threw me a forced smile.
“I was just telling Tom and Dalia how we bonded, being stuck here together due to my ill-advised crime.”
Tom and Dalia swapped a knowing smile. Then a harsh laugh burst out of Dalia.
Patting Jake’s chest, she said, “Oh, you dog you. I sure bet ya did.”
Tossing me a sneer, she added, “Me and Jake have really bonded a few times too, ya know.”
During the awkward silence in which I stood frozen, Jake rose.
“How many girls exactly is it that you’ve bonded with here, Jake? Twenty? Thirty? More?” Dalia asked in a shrill voice.
On the bottom stair, Jake froze.
“Fuck off, Dalia,” he said quietly.
Now Tom was rising, blood coming to his cheeks in red splotches.
“Hey, man, we’re just trying to look out for you. This girl—look at her—she doesn’t know shit, okay? She doesn’t care about you. Her type, the rich superior ones—they look down on us like we’re a different species, like some sort of sub-humans. I mean, yeah, I know you told me you guys had your whole swimming romantic animal experience, but, Jake, listen to me, man. Dalia? She knows you. Me? I’ve known you how long? This girl, she’s playing you so she can go back to daddy, get you locked up for good, and post your pretty face in all the papers along with how mean and ruthless you were to ruin her perfect wedding.”
Jake still wasn’t moving. His face looked like he’d been hit. And, in a way, he had. Tom’s words were ridiculous to me, but if Jake’s stricken expression was any indication, they had been the very fears that had been playing at the edge of his mind.
Well, I wasn’t just going to stand there and let Tom pretend he knew the first thing about me.
“Jake, don’t listen to him,” I said.
Tom’s voice rose to a boom as he said, “Okay, let’s just say both of you are as bat-shit in love as you say you are.”
Looking from one of us to the other, he continued. “Your plan of escape and eluding the police is completely idiotic. You’re gonna drive around who knows where for who knows how long, trying to escape the biggest manhunt Colorado’s had since that prison escape, like, twenty years ago?”
Jake and I exchanged a worried look. Hearing our plans laid out like that, they did sound pretty idiotic.
“You have any better ideas?” Jake growled.
Tom collapsed back onto the couch with a sigh, the furniture groaning under his weight.
“Always knew you were a crazy son of a bitch,” he muttered.
Now it was Dalia’s turn to rise, saying, “I think—”
“Fuck off, Dal,” Tom muttered, shoving a hand in his pocket.
His pudgy tan hand reappeared with a wad of bills.
“You’re gonna need this if you’re gonna get anywhere.”
He chucked it at Jake, who caught it easily. To both of our blank stares, Tom snorted.
“You guys really didn’t fuckin’ think this over, did you?”
Sweeping a hand through his long greasy hair, he continued, looking at Jake.
“Here’s the story: You’re on the run for that shit-tacular bank robbery you pulled. So, you can’t show your face most places or you’re done for, and you definitely can’t use any cards or any of that kind of shit unless you want a nice visit from some officers of the law.”
He turned his beady dark gaze on me.
“You’re supposed to be kidnapped, so if your cards get used or if you get recognized, you’re fucked too. I’d suggest some hair dye, some ugly shit you buy at the grocery store like Dalia does.”
“Fuck you, Tom,” Dalia hissed.
Unfazed, Tom turned to Jake again and said, “I still have that smelly Rasta wig in my truck, and that ugly-ass shirt you bought me as a joke. You want ‘em?”
Despite the circumstances, one corner of Jake’s lips raised in a half smile.
“Let me look at them.”
Tom disappeared through the front door, leaving us with Dalia, whose hatred made Jake’s cabin—which I had once thought surprisingly roomy—feel suffocatingly stuffy. Her black-rimmed glare was directed at me, although she took breaks to flick it at Jake, who had his arm around me.
“It’s going to be all right,” he whispered in my ear.
I nodded instead of admitting that, after Tom’s rant, I didn’t believe him.
Luckily, Tom was back in a door-slammed flash. Dumping the items on the floor, he said, “Enjoy.”
As Tom flopped back onto the couch, Jake went over and crouched before the strange pile.
After lifting what looked like a giant series of spider legs, which turned out to be the wig, he dropped it and coughed.
“Shit, that thing is still potent as hell.”
Tom laughed.
“Yeah. Check out your shirt, too.”
Jake lifted the tie-dyed, hippie-esque button-down less gingerly.
“Nah… I mean, you really think so?”
Tom nodded.
“Do you want to end up in the Colorado state prison or not?”
Jake shrugged.
“Fine, whatever. But what’s this?”
Now he was holding a bright pink and yellow flowery piece of clothing that definitely didn’t look like it was intended for males.
“Chill, bro. Thought Alice could use it, maybe. It was Dalia’s, but she’s too fat now.”
As Dalia elbowed Tom, Jake lifted the teeny, flamboyant dress to get a better look at it. With a laugh, he shook his head.
“Thanks for trying, man, but Alice would never wear this—it’s not her style.”
Tom snorted.
“That’s the goddam point, dipshit.”
Silence while all eyes flicked to me. With a sigh and a wave of my hand, I said, “Fine. I’ll try it.”
As the others cheered and exchanged high fives, I smiled a little myself. There. That should show them that I wasn’t some stuck-up princess unwilling to do anything for anyone other than herself.
A few minutes later, Jake and I were all decked out in our hideous attire, both of us coughing from the horrendous smell emanating from Jake’s head, the pile of scraggly wool they kept affectionately calling his “Rasta hat.”
As Tom surveyed our dismal condition, he forced his face into a smile.
“Eh, not bad. I mean”—he leaned in, took a good whiff, and then coughed—“the smell’s pretty rank, but you only have to wear it when you’re going public places, not when you’re, like, fu—uh—bonding and stuff.”
“Fuck you, Tom,” Jake said in a joking tone, ripping off the wig and chucking it at Tom, who leaped off the couch to escape the thing’s smelly path.
“Well, at
least you look hot,” Jake said to me, his gaze lingering on the low-cut neckline of the diminutive thing I was wearing.
“And completely ridiculous,” I said.
Tom chuckled.
“Yeah. I mean, you could totally wear that on the run and while bonding.”
At this, Jake tore off his shirt and, topless, began whipping it into Tom’s back, who howled as he ran away.
Once they had made the rounds of the cabin a few times and finally collapsed, laughing, onto the couch, Jake asked, “Hey, wanna join us for my Last Supper?”
Tom got up, sauntered over to the fridge, and yanked open the door.
“Sure, only…your fridge ain’t got shit.”
Jake rolled his eyes.
“Thanks, man; I wasn’t aware.”
Tom leaned on the counter and glanced at Gerald’s tank.
“Ooh, that is, unless the furry friends you’re keeping—”
“Hey, thanks for reminding me. You will look in on them while I’m gone, right?”
Tom sank onto the floor with a sort of growled moan.
“Don’t make me do that, Jake.”
“C’mon, bring your sister, Adelaide. She’s in vet school, isn’t she? Perfect experience.”
“She lives far as fuck, man. It would be such a hassle to drive her all the way up here.”
“Dude, if you kill my animals, I will kill you.”
“Not if you’re in jail.”
“You know how many guys owe me favors?”
Silence.
“Shit. All right, all right. Fine.”
Jake grinned and then took out his phone. “Speaking of dinner, I have some pizza to order.”
As Tom and Dalia gaped at him in disbelief, Jake winked at me and, into the phone, said, “Yeah, Bob. Yeah, man, I know. One last time, then I’m out of your hair for good. Okay, for a few weeks, though. Yeah, yeah. Same place. You know it.”
Jake hung up.
“What?” he asked Tom and Dalia’s still surprised faces. “Some guy owes me a favor; I told you.”
“Is there anybody who doesn’t owe you a favor?” Dalia asked.
“Yep,” Jake said, walking over and slinging his arm around me. “Alice. I owe her, like, a hundred.”
“A hundred and two,” I corrected, patting his cheek.
He kissed me, and Tom ambled out the door.
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