French Quarter (26 page)

Leaning her head back against the sofa, she took a deep breath and tried to think.

Gathering her courage, she went to the phone and called the police.

“NOPD,” a woman answered on the second ring.

Liz’s stomach churned. “I…need help with a problem.”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific than that, honey.”

Liz rolled her eyes at own idiocy.
Pull yourself together and make some sense.
“My ex-fiancé is…making threats against me, and also against my new boyfriend.”

The woman on the other end took on a kinder, slower tone. “What kind of threats?”

“Well, he implied that he knew how to make a bomb and said if I moved in with my boyfriend, I’d regret it.”

“Is that all?”

All
? Wasn’t that enough? “He’s sort of been stalking me, too, but…yeah, the part about the bomb is what’s really scaring me.”

The policewoman paused. “Does this ex-fiancé of yours have any kind of a record, a history of arrests or tangles with the law?”

Liz closed her eyes as a rush disappointment swept down through her chest. “No.”

“Look,” the woman said softly, “if it were up to me, I’d slap this whack job in handcuffs in a New York minute. But, honey, unless you have some proof that this guy’s dangerous, there’s not a lot we can do for you. At best, you might be able to get a restraining order against him.”

Liz had always heard restraining orders did no good. “What would that do exactly?”

The policewoman let out a sigh. “It would state that he couldn’t come within so many feet of you, and it
should
protect you.” Yet then she hesitated, lowered her voice, and spoke in a woman-to-woman tone. “But just between me and you, it’s only a piece of paper. It only counts for something if the jerk violates it, but by then it’s often too late, if you know what I mean.”

 Liz hung up the phone a few minutes later, totally dejected. Weren’t police supposed to keep you safe from bad people? Then again, maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. How many stories had she heard over the years on the news or in the papers about wives and girlfriends who
weren’t
protected from men who claimed to love them?

Settling back on the couch, she hugged a throw pillow to her chest and tried to devise her next move.

But what moves were left her, really? She’d tried to get help from the authorities and had failed.

And she’d ignored Todd’s lunacy too many times already. She had no idea if he could really make a bomb or if he even knew where Jack lived and worked, for that matter, but any way she looked at it, she couldn’t take the chance that Todd was for real, that he’d make good on the threat. She or Jack or both of them could
die
, for God’s sake, if Todd was telling the truth.

And Jack’s safety was simply something she couldn’t risk.

Which meant she couldn’t move in with him.

Of course, if she told Jack about Todd’s crazy threat, he’d be all the more determined to get her away from Lynda’s house and into his—to protect her.

And yet, how could anyone really protect anyone else in this world? Jack might be the strongest, surest man she’d ever known, but how could he really keep either one of them safe if Todd decided to do something crazy? You just couldn’t protect against crazy. She sat shaking her head at the hopelessness of the situation, and thinking how one little conversation with Todd had shattered all her hopes for happiness with Jack.

* * * * *

Two hours later, Liz had unpacked her CDs next to Lynda’s stereo, figuring she’d be staying put for at least a little while longer. Maybe even a
lot
longer. After all, if she moved out of Lynda’s to
anyplace
else, Todd would likely assume she’d gone to Jack’s. And she certainly couldn’t tell Todd wherever she
was
going. The whole situation seemed impossible, and while part of her just kept thinking she should ignore it and move in with Jack as planned, another very frightened part kept remembering how each and every time she’d met with Todd since their breakup, he’d seemed more and more out of his mind. No matter how she twisted it, she felt she was at his mercy now and for some time to come.

Letting out a deep sigh, she put the empty box back in the basement and walked back upstairs, feeling trapped.

She didn’t even know how she could face Jack, how she could tell him she wasn’t moving in with him, without being prodded into explaining why. And other than her little act in the beginning, she’d always been so honest with him—she wasn’t sure she could lie now.

Pouring herself a glass of iced tea, she sat down at Lynda’s kitchen table, trying to think through the problem.

She couldn’t see Jack tonight—that was that. If she did, she’d probably tell him everything and put him at risk. In fact, she couldn’t tell him she wasn’t moving in with him—not in person. She’d crack, she just knew it.

After draining her glass, she went upstairs to her room and got out her laptop. She and Jack hadn’t had much occasion to e-mail each other, usually opting for the phone when making plans, but she knew his e-mail address and she knew he checked it often, as much of his business communication was accomplished that way.

Opening the laptop on the dressing table in her room, she keyed in Jack’s e-mail address and began to type.

* * * * *

Jack used the remote to turn off the TV he used for scanning videos in his office. He still hadn’t gotten current on them, but he wanted to close up shop and help Liz move her things—and he wanted to leave time for some romance before the evening was through, too. He intended to show her exactly how happy he was to have her moving in with him.

One last check of e-mail and he’d be out the door.

He clicked on the appropriate button, surprised to see a message from Liz in his inbox. He double-clicked to open it, more than a little curious.

Jack,

I’ve decided I can’t move in with you, after all. It’s kind of you to be concerned for my safety, but I’m confident I can take care of myself. This morning you caught me off guard, and later, I realized it was a bad idea.

I’m also breaking our date tonight. Sorry, but my boss asked me to work late on an overdue pitch for a big client.

Liz

Jack read the message over twice, then simply sat staring at the screen.

He’d been so damn happy this morning when she’d agreed to move in with him and he’d been on top of the world all day. Now, as his heart constricted in his chest, his father’s age-old warning came back to him: Don’t fall for a woman—she’ll only hurt you in the end. Her message was polite—something he thought the old Liz would send—but equally as brisk and short, and he could read between the lines. He’d pushed too far by pressing her to move in with him. She’d realized she didn’t want to be tied down to him that way, didn’t want to go from one committed relationship to another so quickly. She hadn’t even mentioned the future, when they would see each other again, which—as far as Jack knew—might mean she was ready for this to be over, her and him. She was ready to move on.

Fuck. Talk about hurt. He hadn’t even known hurt like this existed. He’d been right all along—she was having way too much fun to settle down now. If only he’d stuck to his guns and not ever let himself believe anything differently.

As for the safety issue, he couldn’t help feeling angry at her. Hadn’t Todd proven over and over again what he was capable of? Why was she so thick-headed about this? Didn’t she realize a guy like that was dangerous and that if she didn’t change her situation he was probably going to do her real harm?

Jack closed his eyes against the vague but ugly picture in his head—Liz, and Todd, and rape. He couldn’t help thinking how horrible it would be to have her burgeoning sexuality crushed by an ugly, violent act—somehow he feared it would affect Liz even more than the average woman; she’d decide it was punishment for the wild things she’d done with Jack and that she should have kept on letting other people dictate her life. The very idea nearly took the breath from his lungs.

“Damn it, Liz,” he said, and banged his fist on his desk. “What do I have to do to get through to you?” If she wasn’t scared of Todd after their encounter two mornings ago, what would it take? She’d told Jack she’d been afraid, so what had happened to change that? It wasn’t that he wanted her to live in fear—just the opposite. He wanted her to live in freedom, and safety, and love.

Love
. He rolled his eyes, hating the word, hating that he’d let himself feel it for a woman who couldn’t return it.

When it came to the Todd issue, well, he could at least keep an eye on the guy, something he’d already put into play. But as for Liz and building a real relationship, he had no choice but to abandon that idea. He just didn’t think he could be with her anymore, knowing it was only sex to her, only fun, that it would lead nowhere in the end. Funny, only a week ago that had been just fine with him, but not anymore. He couldn’t be with her and not have her completely.

Chapter 12

Liz waited to hear from Jack, at work, or at Lynda’s, or even by e-mail—since she’d used that method of contacting him, but no matter where she waited or checked, he didn’t get in touch with her.

Three days later, she was strung as tightly as a violin—she still hadn’t heard from him and she felt herself growing more and more anxious. Her body was on edge, almost painfully. She missed his hands roaming her curves; she missed his incredible cock buried deep inside her, fulfilling her in a way nothing else ever had. But it was more than sexual frustration eating at her. She missed
him
—his voice, his sexy smile, his sweet indulgences of her newfound sexuality, his concern over her safety. She missed simply kissing him, seeing his face, his eyes. She missed the warmth of his embrace.

Each time the phone rang at Lynda’s, and even at work, where the phone rang all day, she tensed—hoping desperately it would be him.

But his call never came. And she began to wonder if she’d been foolish to let Todd’s threat interfere with her plans for Jack.

Fortunately, Todd didn’t attempt to contact her, either, but whereas
his
absence in her life was a tremendous relief, being without Jack made her feel like she was missing some part of her
self
.

One day when she came home from work, Todd appeared to have pulled in just before her. He did no more than lift his hand in a small wave as he went to the mailbox, but something in his gaze was sharp and cutting, reminding her again exactly why she’d let him talk her out of moving in with Jack. He was clearly watching her—and as long as she stayed put, it kept Jack safe and seemed to be keeping her out of harm’s way, as well.

Of course, if she’d known her message to Jack would result in driving him away from her, she’d definitely have found another way to deliver it. She’d have gone out with him that night as planned, despite how hard it would have been. Somehow, unwittingly, she seemed to have closed the lines of communication between them.

When Liz got home from work the following Friday, she kicked off her shoes, pulled her pantyhose off under her skirt, and plopped on the bed, far too tired from the work week. She knew it was really just missing Jack that was tearing her up, breaking her down. Even now, as exhausted as she felt, she ached for him. She wished he were there to push up her skirt, unbutton her blouse, tell her how beautiful her breasts were, then fuck her long and hard and deep. Mmm, a nice fantasy, she thought, closing her eyes. But after the sexual odyssey she’d been on with Jack, fantasies weren’t very fulfilling—she needed the real thing, the real man.

Taking a deep breath, Liz slowly picked up the phone. She’d been considering calling him for days, but had kept holding out hope that he would call her first. She’d kept remembering all the sweet things he’d said that had slowly made her begin to think he cared for her in more than a physical way. Exhaling, she dialed his number. By the third ring, her stomach was in knots. Then came the nerve-wracking sound of the receiver being picked up.

“Hello?”

Courage, Liz. Have courage
. “Hi Jack, it’s me.”

His slight hesitation served to deplete what little bravery she’d mustered. “Liz?”

Her heart nearly shattered at his non-receptive tone. “Yeah.”

He said nothing.

“I just wanted to apologize,” she rushed, nervous now, “about my e-mail. I should have called. But I knew you checked your e-mail a lot, so … anyway, I just wanted to … see how you are.”

More of that damned hesitation. “I’m fine,” he finally said. “And you?”

Aching and needy. I need you in my bed, taking me away from everything bad.
She swallowed nervously. His chilly tone made it impossible to be honest—it was suddenly as if the lies about why she couldn’t move in with him and why she couldn’t see him that night had ripped to shreds her ability to tell him anything true. “I’m…fine, too.”

“Has Todd bothered you anymore?”

Tell him. Just tell him the truth about Todd’s threat.

But no
—
that might only create trouble. Jack might confront Todd and endanger himself.

“He’s kept his distance the last few days,” she said, glad it wasn’t exactly a lie.