Homecoming (26 page)

He brought the gavel down.

“What are we doing here?” Russell looked with disfavor at the simple décor at Stella’s. He hiccupped, automatically covering his mouth with his hand, banging himself on the nose with his cast. He rubbed his nose irritably. “God, I hate small towns.”

“Now, Russell,” Federica said soothingly, squelching hard the urge to laugh. “I have strict orders to try and stay on good terms with the people of Carson’s Bluff, and with the Town Council in particular. This seems like a good way to cement relations.”

“Orders to stay on friendly terms?” Russell frowned and sipped some more beer. It was his second bottle. “That doesn’t sound much like your uncle.”

“No, it was in the letter from Paul Cobb.”

“Oh.” He drained the bottle. “Well, at least the beer’s good.”

“You’ll like the food, too,” Federica assured him. Russell prided himself on being a gourmet. “They say Stella’s might be in the next
Good Food Guide
.”

“Oh, really?” Russell looked interested for the first time since they’d come into Stella’s. “Say, how about another beer?”

Jack was at the bar chatting with Stella and Federica fought down a stab of irritation. It was okay to be relaxed, that was one of the things she loved about Jack, but he didn’t seem to understand that their troubles were far from over. They were on a tight schedule. This was no time to be shooting the breeze with Stella.

“I’ll get it for you, Russell.” Federica slid out of the booth and walked over to Jack and tapped him on the shoulder.

Jack gave her a lazy smile that had her heart turning over in her chest until she remembered that she was annoyed with him. “What’s with you?” she whispered. “You people are supposed to be booby-trapping Russell.”

Jack glanced behind him at their booth and turned back. “We are.” He didn’t whisper, but kept his voice low. Stella handed him three bottles and Jack held one out to her. “This is step one.”

“
Beer
?” Federica’s voice rose and she immediately dropped it back to her stage whisper. “Beer?” she repeated. “You’re going to get rid of Russell with
beer
?”

“Check the label, honey.”

“I—” Federica blew out her breath in frustration. Jack obviously didn’t understand how quickly they had to move and how serious the situation was. A little beer—however good—wasn’t going to make Russell have a change of heart about Carson’s Bluff, if that was their plan. Russell didn’t have a heart.

She looked closer at the label, then tilted her head to one side. On one of the bottles, in a faint sepia wash, was a pig on its back, little trotters in the air and with X’s for eyes. Federica looked at Jack in confusion.

“The beer we’re giving Russell is Special Pigswill, and it’s ninety proof,” he said with satisfaction. “And Stella is going to over-salt his food.”

“Ninety-proof beer,” Federica said wonderingly. “How can that be?”

“I don’t know,” Jack answered. “You’ll have to ask Wyatt. He’s a genius when it comes to beer.”

“By the way,” Federica looked around. “Where
is
Wyatt? And Lilly?”

“Lilly went home to put her feet up. She and Norman will be coming in later. Wyatt is showing Ellen around.”

“Showing…” Federica clenched her fist and banged it on the counter. “What’s the matter with him? This is no time for romance.”

Jack stepped to one side so that his back shielded them from view and curled his big hand around her wrist. “Yes it is.” His thumb softly stroked her hand. “It’s always time for romance.” Federica started to melt, then remembered her anxiety. “Jack—”

“Trust me, honey,” Jack said, smiling. “Trust us. We know what we’re doing.” He gave a sudden pirate’s grin. “We’ve done this before.”

“So, Russell,” Jack said expansively, looking at Russell’s empty plate. “What do you think of the food? I guess an important executive like yourself has eaten in the finest restaurants all over the world.”

Russell leaned his head back against the booth seat. “Well, yes,” he said and tried to smile modestly. “Of course I’ve eaten in my share of four-star restaurants. But the food here is very good.” He hiccupped. “For a small town, of course.”

“Why thank you, Russell.” Jack smiled. Russell’s eyelids were starting to quiver. Where was Wyatt? It was time. “Have some more beer, why don’t you?”

“Well…” Jack could tell Russell was having trouble focusing.

“Come on, pal.” Jack poured another glass of Special Pigswill and some of the ordinary kind for himself. “Let’s forget business and enjoy ourselves.”

Jack watched Russell down his glass and calculated. Russell was about six feet, maybe a hundred and eighty pounds. He was starting to weave slightly in his seat. If Wyatt didn’t come soon, Jack would have to do it all by himself.

Russell finished and smacked his lips. They were probably numb by now. “Good,” he said and smiled foolishly at Jack and Federica. “Very good beer.”

Jack gave him another four, five minutes, tops. Though he had to hand it to the man. Russell was a pompous ass, but there must be more to him than meets the eye. Jack surveyed the tabletop of empty bottles. A lesser man would have been dead by now.

Russell started swaying, as if in a stiff breeze. Where the
hell
was— The door to Stella’s opened and Wyatt walked in with Ellen, a grin as foolish as Russell’s on his face. They walked over to the booth. The door opened again and Lilly and Norman strolled in.

“About time,” Jack muttered to Wyatt. “Say, Russell,” he said loudly. “Why don’t we step outside for a breath of fresh air? It’s a little stuffy in here.”

Russell turned his head. His eyes followed a few seconds later. “Spren—er, splendid idea, my man. Little flesh—fresh air would do me a girl of wood.” He put his hands on the table to get up and nothing happened. “Say, I seem to be—”

“No problem,” Jack said easily and motioned to Wyatt. Between them, they got a shaky Russell to his feet. “You want to wipe some of that lipstick off your chin, bro,” Jack said to Wyatt out of the side of his mouth. “Come on now, Russell, you remember how to walk, don’t you? Put your left foot out, that’s a good boy, now the other one—”

Russell looked in befuddlement at Jack, then at his feet, which weren’t obeying. In a slow sort of dance shuffle, the three men reached the door. Jack opened it wide and nudged Wyatt. “I’ll take the head, you take the feet,” he whispered. He slapped Russell on the back and Russell staggered slightly. “Take a big deep breath, my man,” he boomed. “Just smell that clean mountain air.”

Russell smiled, took a big breath, and his eyes did a slow roll to the back of his head.

“Timmm-ber,” said Jack, as Russell toppled slowly backwards. Jack caught his head, Wyatt his feet and they made for the bedrooms Stella had on the first floor. “Hey Stella,” Jack called out, huffing a little. Not one-eighty, more like one-ninety. “Did you change the mattress?”

“Sure did, Jack.” A smiling Stella came out from behind the counter. “The oldest, lumpiest one I could find.”

“And the hidden tape recorder?”

“Yup. With the most obnoxious music I could find,” she said in satisfaction. “Heavy metal and rap fusion. Stole the tape off my son. The guy won’t get a wink of sleep.”

“I don’t think we’re talking sleep here,” said Wyatt, as they staggered up the stairs with their burden. “I think we’re talking coma.”

“Okay, then he won’t get a wink of coma.”

Federica watched them disappear up the stairs and turned to Lilly and Norman.

“Lilly, did you set up the room for tomorrow?”

“Sure, honey. Stella’s storeroom. She emptied it this afternoon.”

“Good.” Federica rubbed her hands and tried to fight off the wave of anxiety. The battle had begun. “Now by tomorrow, I’ll need two big wall clocks, two laptops with fax/modems and a good spreadsheet program.”

“I’ve got one I designed myself,” Norman said. “It’s better than the commercially available ones.”

Federica looked at Norman through narrowed, appraising eyes. “How good are you at figures, Norman?”

“Very good.” He sighed. “So good it almost killed me.”

“And how good are you at lying and cheating?”

“I was a vice president at Longthorn, Pace and Feldstein,” he said simply. His eyes slid to his wife. “Of course, I’m reformed now,” he added hastily.

“Well, unreform yourself. Fast.” Federica drummed her fingers on the counter. “I need you.”

Norman fingered his beard and tried to hide the gleam in his eyes. “What exactly were you thinking of?”

“This.” Federica outlined her plan while Norman listened, his eyes widening behind his horn-rims. “So what do you think?”

“I don’t know, Federica. The timing’s going to be tricky…” he started, but there was a noise at the top of the stairs and he lost Federica’s attention.

Federica watched Jack come back down the stairs, brushing his hands and grinning, and thought that she had never seen anyone or anything as beautiful as he was. Just knowing that a man like Jack lived in the world made her feel better. The idea that he’d once been hers and maybe might be again took her breath away.

There was a lot left unsaid between them. There’d been no time to talk. Maybe it was over between them. Maybe he was just grateful that she hadn’t thrown Carson’s Bluff to the lions—or, worse, to Uncle Frederick—but that was it. Maybe what they had couldn’t be put back together again. Maybe she had been imagining that he felt as much as she did…or the way she did.

Maybe…

Jack walked toward her and she felt her heart pound in her throat.

He stopped in front of her and stood looking at her. “Come on, honey,” he said at last, and held out his hand. “Let’s go home.”

Federica stepped forward, taking his hand, then she leaned her head against his shoulder, fighting tears. He hugged her fiercely and they started for the door.

Wyatt walked down the stairs and crossed to Ellen.

Norman watched Jack and Federica leave. “Wyatt?” He sounded thoughtful.

“Yeah?”

“If you ever need a role model for a master criminal mind,” Norman said, jerking his thumb at Federica’s departing back, “there’s your woman.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” Federica whispered and kissed Jack’s bare shoulder. Her body was still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Me, too.” His arm tightened around her. “Don’t ever, ever scare me like that again, do you hear?” He gave her a little shake. “You took ten years off my life.”

“I know.” She wrapped her arms around his broad back, reveling in the strong muscles, reveling in the fact that this was
Jack
. Only a few hours ago, she’d felt as if the world had suddenly been emptied of all meaning. She could hardly believe he was here with her, warm and hard and real in her arms.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered.

“I was thinking the same thing,” she confessed. “I thought we’d never be like this again.” The thought had her clutching her fingers into his shoulders.

“When you walked into the meeting room, wearing that little black suit and that cool, remote expression, I thought, I thought—”

“Shh.” Federica put a finger over his mouth, then took it away and replaced it with her lips. “Don’t say it, don’t even think it.”

Jack kissed her deeply, then kissed his way down to her breast.

Federica couldn’t believe that her body was waking up again, so intensely and so soon. She felt breathless, poised on the edge of a precipice. Jack was licking the spot over her wildly thudding heart and his hands, wicked hands, moved knowingly over her.

Jack lifted his mouth and looked at her. The starlight filtering in through the window bathed him in an unearthly, silvery glow and he looked like a god, sent to Earth just for her. His black hair was tousled from lovemaking and the clean, strong bone structure stood out clearly. She cupped his face with her hands, trembling at the idea of having almost lost him.

I love him so much
, she thought, and her heart turned over in her chest as his intent look changed to a smile.

“Federica?” His deep voice sent shivers down her spine. “Will you do something for me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.
Anything
, she thought.

“I want you to burn that black suit.”

June 8th

“Well, well,” Ellen said brightly, as a shaky Russell walked into the meeting room the next morning. “Rise and slime.”

Russell shot her a nasty look as he walked past, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it. He walked carefully, as if holding a big bowl of water that might spill at any moment. He was wearing a burgundy cashmere cardigan that clashed badly with his green complexion.

Federica looked up from the documents she’d been pretending to read. “Good morning, Russell,” she said sweetly. “Did you sleep well?”

He grunted and started to sit down in his usual chair, to Federica’s right.

“No, no,” Federica said swiftly. She pulled out the chair on her left. “Sit here.” Wyatt had told her to try to make sure Russell sat near the public area.