Goes down easy: Roped into romance (16 page)

Kelly leaned her flat ass on the porch railing and crossed her arms. “Dayton Eckhardt owes a lot of money to me and the boys. Money he doesn’t have to pay us, you know why?”

Because you didn’t leave him with his wallet when you left him to die?

“Because when he tore the company out of our
backyard like a big bad weed, he cut loose everyone but management. That included those of us with the biggest stake in Eckton’s new software. The one we developed. We. As in me and Chris and Pauly and Kevin.”

And to think. I’d pegged you as director of human resources. Or maybe fashion.

“Eckton filed the legal crap, the trademarks or copyrights or patents. Whatever. So Eckton owns the system. Our system. It was our teamwork, our vision. And it’s our work that within a year is going to turn that billionaire in Redmond, Washington into the last best thing.”

I’m sure Mr. Gates is shaking in his Gucci’s.

“And now we have nothing. No stock options. No income. No residuals. We have shit. Got it? So we figured it was payback time. Let Dayton Eckhardt learn what it is to not only have zero, but to be a zero.”

That was when Jack finally opened his mouth. “This is revenge? That’s it?”

“Revenge. Making a statement. Seeing the man suffer.” She shrugged. “Take your pick.”

“Suffering. That’s the reason for the amputation?”

“Seemed like fun, you know, putting the righteous fear into the cops and the wifey. You saw Pauly’s message in the warehouse, didn’t you? We’ve got what we want. A long, painful goodbye for Mr. Eckhardt.” She tucked her fingernails into her palm and studied them. “Only now we’ve got this big dick of a problem. Namely you. So do we leave you here? Or take you with us?”

“Guess that depends on where you’re going to go,”
he said, recognizing that smart-mouthing this chick wasn’t going to earn him any points but, hell on a pirogue, this was nothing but revenge?

She snorted, started picking at the polish on one of her nails. “Funny thing about that. If you’d asked me earlier today, I could’ve told you. Now I’m not so sure.”

Jack dropped his head back and cackled. “Then Della was right. You and Chris were loading up the Jeep to skip out on poor Pauly and Kevin.”

Kelly’s gaze shot to his. “She told you that?”

He shook his head. “She told Kevin that.”

“God, he’s such a moron,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“And what does that make you, seeing as how you’ve been with him since eighth grade?” Jack prodded, watching for any glint of emotion.

If he hadn’t been watching, he would’ve missed the flash that came and was gone. “Right now, it makes me the one everyone wants. The one everyone’s looking to for a decision.”

“Heavy load for those shoulders of yours.”

She shrugged. “You look smart enough to know that size doesn’t matter,” she said, and tapped a finger to her head. “It’s all about what’s up here.”

“Then why don’t you use what’s up there and cut me loose.” He jerked once at the ropes. “Eckhardt, too. If we’re both good to go, then it’s no harm, no foul. We all get up and have our Wheaties for breakfast.”

“Puh-lease,” she said, with a defeatist’s sigh and a shake of her head. “It’s Kevin who’s the moron, remember. Not me. I’m not planning to spend time behind bars.”

“You didn’t think about that before you started this?” he asked.

“All I thought about was putting Eckhardt through some heavy-duty shit. Just like he did with us. Payback’s a bitch, haven’t you heard?”

“So, now what?”

“Actually, I was thinking of ending it all right here.” She reached for the gun, shook her head, rubbed the mouth of the barrel along the side of her ear. A cold chill settled in to scrape at the pit of Jack’s stomach. Morons this bunch might be, but stupid they were not.

“Okay, look. That’s not going to solve anything. And you’re smart enough to know deals are made all the time. Especially with a lot of juice to bring to the table. Which I’m pretty sure you have.”

For several long seconds, she stared into Jack’s eyes. Hers were lifeless, cold, flat. He worried that it was too late, that he’d waited too long to speak, that he should have tried to bond with her, shown empathy instead of sarcasm, let her see he was on her side—even though he wasn’t—and talk her in off the ledge.

Except then, in the next breath, she doubled over and spit out a laugh, waving the gun like a flag. “You really thought I was serious, didn’t you? Damn, am I good, or what? No wonder Kevin needed a psychic to tell him he’s out of the picture. I still can’t believe he couldn’t figure out for himself why we left him at the reporter’s house.”

Jack closed his eyes, shook his head. Son of a flippin’ bitch. He and the horse he’d rode in on were both screwed. The only deal this one would be inter
ested in was a part in a teen slasher flick—as the slasher.

Biting down on a whole lot of words he knew he’d better not say, he looked back up. “What now?”

She took one long hop toward him, leaned down and flicked the end of his nose. “Tell ya what, dick. As soon as I find out, you’ll be the first to know.”

And then she yanked on the chain pull, leaving him in darkness as she walked out of his life.

“Y
OU KNOW
I’m not going to handle it well if they don’t find him,” Perry said to Della. The two women were sitting together at the kitchen table, as they’d found themselves doing so often lately—and always, it seemed, in the middle of the night.

With Jack’s kidnapping falling under local jurisdiction, Book and his partner hadn’t given the federal agents on the Eckhardt case time or room to object, but had arranged to meet officers from the Jefferson Parish Sheriff’s Office at the Morgan property near Jean Lafitte.

The feds had followed because, thanks to Jack, they’d been handed the closest thing to a clue they’d had in the Eckhardt case for days. Perry doubted she and Della would be handed anything before daylight.

That was assuming Jack was being held at the Morgan place, and the search parties picked the right place in all that swampland to start.

It was also assuming those in charge didn’t decide Jack could wait, that Eckhardt was a priority. That first they needed to get to him.

“They’ll find him.” Della reached over and patted
Perry’s hand, her fingers cool and smooth. “Book will find him. He knows Jack’s one of the good ones. He won’t leave him out there any more than he’d leave one of his men.”

Perry could only pray Della was right. “I still can’t believe what he did, charging out of here the minute we realized you were gone. I mean, I love what he did. I’m in awe of what he did. Losing you would be unbearable.” She sighed, drooped against the table. “But he’s only known us a few days. It just seems so…”

“Heroic?” Della supplied, a wise brow arched above her eyes, which shimmered a deep purple hue.

All Perry could do was nod because she couldn’t think of a more perfect word. Jack. A hero. Her hero. Her eyes filled with tears. Her throat ached and burned. The last thing she wanted to do was cry, but her emotions wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It’s been an extraordinary few days, Perry,” Della said softly as Perry sobbed. “And he’s an extraordinary man, doing what men of his nature do. As is Book. They may try a woman’s resolve, but they are men worth loving that much more because of who they are.”

Perry swiped the back of her hand over her eyes and, desperately needing a distraction, considered her aunt. “You love him, don’t you? You love Book. I’ve wondered for a long time, but it’s all over your face.”

Della pressed her fingers to her cheek, then reached for her teacup. She didn’t try to hide any of her smile. “I certainly didn’t mean it to be so obvious. I hope I didn’t embarrass him.”

“Embarrass Book Franklin?” Why did that make Perry want to laugh? “Is that even possible?”

“Of course it is.” Della frowned. “What sort of question is that?”

Sighing again, Perry slouched back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I don’t know. It’s a man question. A species I know nothing about.”

“And now whose feelings are written all over her face?” Della teased, lifting her cup to sip.

“I never believed this would happen.” Perry closed her eyes, dropped her head back. It felt so heavy she wondered if she’d be able to lift it again. “And I don’t just mean that it would never happen to me. I didn’t think it happened at all.”

“What, love at first sight?”

“Funny. And here I thought it was heartburn.”

Della chuckled. “You haven’t been exposed much to romance, Perry.”

Oops. Not sure this was a conversation she wanted to have, she leaned forward and reached for her tea while changing the focus to Della. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Della hedged.

“Do you know why
you
haven’t? And do you know how horrible I’m going to feel if it has anything to do with your responsibility to me?”

“Truthfully? You’ve always been a consideration, but never a burden,” she hurried to add when Perry groaned. “You’ve always been a very welcome part of my life. Having you would never have kept me from a relationship if I’d found a man who could deal with my gift. I never did. I’m still not sure that I have.”

“Book doesn’t seem to have any problem dealing with it.”

“The problem is more mine,” Della said, her fingers growing white where she gripped her cup. “It’s hard to respond only to what he wants me to know, and not to what I know he feels. There are times I’m not sure I can tell the difference. And it seems easier not to try.”

“And so you’re going to give up? Give
him
up?”

She dropped her gaze, smiled softly to herself. “You don’t think I’m too old?”

“To do what? Live? Love?”

“To start over.”

Perry suddenly felt like the wise, experienced one when she was nothing of the sort. “It’s not about starting over, Della. It’s about starting again. It’s about change. Who said we have to pick where we live and how we make a living and who we let into our lives, and stick with that plan forever?”

“Good.” Della’s hand came down flat on the table so hard that her teacup rattled. “Because now that you’ve said it aloud, I’m going to hold you to it.”

Sneaky woman. Perry narrowed her eyes. “We’re talking about you and Book. Not about me and…whoever.”

“You and Jack. And yes we are. Like I said. Extraordinary. The days. The man. The whole world out there waiting for you to embrace it. The only thing tying you to New Orleans is familiarity.”

“You’re here. Sugar Blues is here. This is my home. And…” She groaned as her own words came back to haunt her. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“That’s something only you can figure out. But what I know is that you’re thirty years old, Perry. It’s time for you to step outside your comfort zone and give life, and love, a chance.”

J
ACK HAD NEVER
given the prospect of dying much thought. Hell, he’d almost died of frostbite hunting down a group of Chechen rebels who’d blown up a school, killing over two hundred children. He’d almost expired from heatstroke rescuing aid workers captured by the Sudan People’s Liberation Army. But all that was before he had Perry.

Now all he wanted was to get the hell up off the ground, and get back to Perry ASAP.

He had no idea how long he’d been lying alone in the dark in the dirt with a gash pouring blood from his head, but it was long enough that he was almost too stiff to move.

In the end, Kelly did nothing more to him than drive off and leave him to his fate there with Dayton. That was it. Did they freak out? Chicken out? He would’ve laughed if he’d had the energy.

He’d heard the engine of Kevin’s car sputter twice before turning over, followed by the sound of what had to be Chris’s Jeep. Ten minutes later, all that was left was silence. Ten minutes after that, what few night creatures didn’t mind singing in the cold had started up.

Knowing it was going to be a hell of a long time until he saw the sun, he decided not to waste it. He hadn’t taken but a quick look around while the light was on for Kelly’s visit, but he had seen enough to
know he and his chair were the only things on the porch. Meaning his best bet was to get off and find something—a broken bottle, a crushed can, a sharp edge on the generator, a gator’s jaws—to cut through his ropes.

The one piece of metal he knew he could use if he broke it just right was his chair. Options weighed, he’d busted loose one section of railing with his shoulder, then rocked himself right off the porch.

He was out for a while. He didn’t know how long, only that he came to feeling like an almost corpse. His head ached like a burst watermelon, his joints like seized gears, and his balls had never been so cold.

He flexed toes, then ankles, then knees, then hips, finding the lower half of his body working. His hands seemed okay, and he didn’t seem to have dislocated either shoulder, or busted his elbows—a mean feat since his wrists were bound behind him.

But it wasn’t until he rolled to his side and up onto his knees that he realized how badly bruised he was going to be in the morning.

And then the knees thing didn’t seem like such a good plan at all because the chair on his back knocked him forward, and the ground came rushing up to meet his face. He lay there, hands sagging from the chair frame, and recovered his breath.

What a way to find out you were truly an ex in the special ops biz.

In the past, survival had been about getting back to his unit, getting hooked up with another operation, getting his ass back out in the field.

Now, surviving was about getting back to his woman. He would’ve laughed, but he already had enough dirt in his mouth as it was. Four days—five days?—and that was exactly how he thought of her. It had been a hell of a wake-up call to discover what he’d been missing.

He really didn’t want to have to miss out on any more. And so he crunched his abs—his only muscles that didn’t ache—and pulled himself up to sit on his knees, then made it all the way up to his feet. He swayed to one side, stumbled looking for his balance, but finally found it.

Walking with the monkey of a chair on his back and one eye caked shut with dried blood kept him on a pretty short leash. The hulk of the house loomed in shadow, and he headed toward it, catching his foot on a tree root and crashing to the ground with a rib-crushing oomph.

Hell on a crutch. He did not want to lay here like alligator bait until morning. He closed his eyes, screwed them tight, and concentrated on Della, hoping there was some psychic tide flowing out there in the ether, and that she could catch his wave.

Thirty seconds later he realized the sharp stabbing pain in his back wasn’t a broken rib but a piece of the chair. Finally! His trip to the ground had busted the frame. He was lying on one hand, so he twisted the other, tugging until the rope slipped free from the broken end of the metal tubing.

He used his teeth to undo the knots at his wrist, then sat up and swung the rest of the chair around in front
of him. By the time his other hand was free, he felt as if he’d mainlined adrenaline. He needed a lantern. A flashlight. A canoe or a raft, and a paddle.

And he was on his way to find them when he heard the first car. He felt like an island castaway, wanting to jump up and down and wave his arms. But he didn’t. He hurt too much. And the headlights—two sets of them now, no three—were cutting through the trees.

So he leaned against the porch and waited, raising a hand to the level of his good eye and squinting into the glare. The first car threw up rooster tails of gravel and dirt as it screamed to a stop. The door slammed open. Book Franklin charged out.

“Montgomery!” he yelled.

Jack lifted his other hand in acknowledgment, saving his breath and waiting for the detective to get close. “You’re looking for a Jeep and a Civic hatchback. Not sure on the Jeep, but the Civic’s white. Early nineties.”

But Book was already nodding. “We got ’em. We knew about the Honda. Had the plates. Two vehicles that close together, this time of night, on the Lafitte-LaRose Highway? We stopped them both.”

Jack breathed a painful sigh of relief. “Della told you about the car?”

“She did. Where’s Eckhardt?”

“I don’t know exactly.” He turned, pointed in the general direction. “That way, somewhere. I was just about to hunt down a raft and paddle out.”

“You look like shit, Montgomery,” Book said, clamping a hand down on Jack’s shoulder. “You go wait in the car. We’ll bring him in.”

“He’s got to be in bad shape after all this time.”

“Yeah. I’ve already called for an ambulance.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“For what?” The detective smiled. “Doing my job?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, shaking the other man’s hand. “For that.”

F
INISHING UP
everything he had to do took Book forever. He knew it was part of the job. He didn’t mind that it was part of the job. He just wanted the job finished because he wanted to get to Della.

Protocol be damned, but he’d done the bulk of his interview with Jack while the investigator was having his head stitched up in the emergency room. Eckhardt was in surgery—finger aside, he and his heart were in fairly good shape. He had a broken ankle pinned and wouldn’t be giving a statement anytime soon. Jack had given Book the number, and he’d called the wife in Texas. She was on her way.

The four kids who’d snatched the computer chief were in federal holding, making for one less task Book had to finish up tonight. Tomorrow would be a hell of a long day, one better tackled after food, sleep and making love to Della.

It was late afternoon by the time he dropped Jack at Sugar Blues to pick up his ride. Not that Jack had anywhere he needed to be—or anywhere Perry was going to let him go. The minute he climbed from the car, she was out the back door, running, screaming, launching herself into his arms.

Book walked right past the younger couple. He only
had eyes for the woman standing framed in the open back door. She was so beautiful, his Della, and damn if that wasn’t exactly who she was. Exactly who she’d been since the night he’d first found her sitting on the courtyard fountain, drenched to her skin.

He stopped in front of her, looking up from the step that led into the kitchen. He was still an inch or two taller, but he liked seeing her at this level. They were almost face to face. And he didn’t think he’d ever seen her eyes so dark purple.

Or so teary and red. “Are you crying?”

She nodded. “Of course, I am. Aren’t you worth crying over?”

His heart fluttered, but he frowned anyway. “I wasn’t the one in danger.”

“You’re always in danger.” She reached for him, caressed his face with her fingers. “Every day that you go to work, you’re in danger.”

“I am who I am,” he said with a shrug, her hand cool and soft and the only comfort he needed.

“I know that.” She blinked. She smiled. “I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else. I wouldn’t love you if you were anyone else.”

“Then you can live with that?” Damn voice, cracking like that. “Knowing there’s always a chance when I leave that I might not come back?”

“I know it already.” Her smile broke the dam holding his emotions. “I’ve lived with it every day for two years.”