GRIPPED (Romance Mystery & Suspense Box Set)

by Abbott, Alex

  I wanted to greet Jack through the eyes of Gracie Travers, to touch him as myself, and to place my heart in his hands without a care in the world.

  And since I didn’t even know how to begin explaining all this to him, I kept putting off getting in touch.

  A soft knock on the door sounded, and I looked up, half expecting to see Jack’s grin appearing in the door crack. Instead, it was Mom coming to check up on me.

  Her smile was infectious. She really was the mother I’d imagined when driving in the car with Dad. Tall and blond and slender as a willow tree, she didn’t look a day over fifty, though she was closer to sixty now. The moment she’d folded me in her arms yesterday, first the emotions and then the memories had come rushing back, the same way they had with my dad.

  “Up already? I thought you’d sleep a hole in the day, seeing how exhausted you were last night.”

  “I slept like a rose, Mom. I feel completely refreshed.”

  “Glad to hear it. There’s someone downstairs to see you, or else I wouldn’t have disturbed you.” She hesitated. “It’s a police inspector. Jacques Gustave Formelle? He says the two of you have met before.”

  I hopped from the alcove, my bare feet making a funny noise on the parquet floor. The feel of the warm wood under my toes brought back fond memories, and I quickly padded to the closet to fetch my clothes.

  “You think I can meet him like this? Or do I look too horrible?”

  I stabbed at my hair, which was all tangled up from sleep.

  Mom smiled. “Perhaps just drag a comb through that mane of yours. For the rest you look fresh as a newborn babe, honey.”

  “Great. I’ll be down in a minute, then.”

  “I’ll tell him you’re coming.”

  Five minutes later, Jacques and I were seated in my father’s study, where we wouldn’t be disturbed, and he’d placed his now familiar notebook on the desk in front of him.

  I was sitting in my dad’s wingback chair, my legs folded under me, while Jacques sat perched on the very uncomfortable looking dining chair my father kept for visitors he didn’t particularly like.

  “Perhaps we should take the chesterfield,” I suggested, watching the inspector try to make himself comfortable and failing.

  He held up his hand and smiled. “I’m perfectly fine, Mademoiselle Travers.”

  “Gracie. So, what did you find out, inspector?”

  “Well, I took the liberty of interviewing all three suspects again, now that we’re in full possession of the facts, and found them more garrulous than ever before. Apparently, spending a couple of nights in jail worked wonders on their willingness to spill the beans. Of course,” he added with a cheeky wink, “I didn’t fail to inform them the other members of the gang had already told me everything, and tried to put the blame squarely on the others’ shoulders.”

  “Very clever.”

  “I like to think so. So! First off, they would like to offer a formal apology to you, their victim, for the emotional stress caused by their actions, not to mention the physical consequences.”

  “That’s really nice of them. Tell them I’ll take it into consideration.”

  His eyes twinkled at the suggestion, then he tapped the next point in his little notebook. “You, my young lady, have been very lucky.”

  “Oh?”

  “When you managed to escape your captors and hitch a ride to Brussels, you probably had no idea what you were doing?”

  “I hitched a ride to Brussels?”

  “Apparently you did.” His face grew solemn. “You were being held here in Paris, that much we already knew. But that you escaped their vigilance was a fact that surprised me. Why you then decided to go to Brussels in a truck owned and operated by...” He flipped a page. “Chloe’s Fresh Fruits is a mystery to me.”

  “And to me,” I murmured.

  “They finally caught up with you when the driver kicked you out of his truck, most probably because you failed to produce the stipend he demanded for his services, and you were found wandering around the Canal Zone in Brussels by your captors. When they tried to catch you, you ran and inadvertently fell into the water, knocked your head, and were subsequently saved by Jack.” He tapped the desk. “So far so good.”

  “But why did they take me in the first place? And when? And how?”

  “Patience, my dear. Patience. I have it all written down in here.”

  As Jacques continued to tell the story, I wasn’t surprised that the plan the trio of hoodlums had hatched had focused on exacting sweet revenge on the man they believed had wronged them.

  Seth, it turned out, had at one point worked at the bank as a messenger boy, carrying messages from floor to floor. When Dad had caught him flirting with his secretary one fine day, he’d been given the sack, and the irritable little man hadn’t taken it too well.

  The fact that the loft Daddy had bought me was located directly adjacent to Seth’s cousin, had been the reason they’d targeted me. Turned out Rainer and I moved in the same artistic circles, and when he heard I was going to Alaska for a fortnight, he’d told Seth, who’d decided it was the perfect opportunity to snag me and no one would be any the wiser. They were going to keep me locked up for two weeks, starve me, and finally deliver me back to my parents with my throat slit.

  I gulped at the cruel fate the trio had had in store for me, and Jacques assured me these were hardened criminals, as vicious and nasty as they came.

  Well, at least the couple was. Rainer, apparently, was of a different ilk. A petty criminal, he hadn’t agreed to the plan from the start, and had tried to convince the others to let me go.

  In fact he said he’d even helped me escape, though Jacques had his doubts about that. At this stage, the man would do or say anything to escape his rightful punishment.

  “The most surprising part of the story, to me, is this so-called friend of yours.” He inspected his scribblings. “Natasha Subaru. When you didn’t show up at the airport, instead of notifying your parents or the police, she decided you’d gotten cold feet, and went to Alaska on her own. We contacted her, and she was extremely surprised about what happened.”

  “Great friend,” I murmured. I now remembered Natasha as a bit of a flibbertigibbet. She was a model I’d met when she’d modeled at the art academy.

  The idea to travel to Alaska had occurred to us when we saw a movie late one night about a girl traveling to Alaska and meeting the man of her dreams. In a moment of extreme silliness, we’d decided to do the same.

  Well, in a sense it had worked. I had found the man of my dreams, though he’d been much closer by than I thought.

  Chapter 33

  I was feeling so relieved after Jacques’s visit, that I decided not to wait for my memory to return in full, but to head on over to Jack’s immediately.

  Our fathers might hate each others’ guts, but that had nothing to do with us. Our love would irk the previous generation of Carters and Traverses, but I didn’t care, and I knew Jack wouldn’t either.

  So I stepped from home feeling refreshed and exhilarated and hailed a cab to take me into town, where I knew Jack would eagerly await my return. At least, that’s what I secretly hoped and prayed for.

  Even though we had only been apart for a single night, it felt like an eternity, and when finally the taxi decanted me on Jack’s doorstep, I pressed the bell with pounding heart.

  Magali showed up within seconds, and her face lit up when she caught sight of me.

  “Valerie, honey!” she cried out, and folded me in a warm embrace. I hadn’t the heart to inform her that my name had changed yet again, and when I asked if Jack was home, she happily informed me that he was.

  In fact, he’d just returned home, looking all gloomy and sad, and she was sure that my visit would cheer him up immensely.

  She told me to walk through the kitchen to the back yard. Apparently Jack, when not being a multi-millionaire in Brussels, liked to potter about in his garden.

  “It calms his nerves,�
�� confided Magali in a conspiratorial whisper.

  I stepped onto the back terrace, searching for Jack, and was greeted by a sight to behold. Jack’s ‘little back yard’ was, in fact, a much bigger patch than I’d deemed possible in the heart of Paris, where land is extremely expensive and most houses have to do without a bit of greenery.

  The trellises placed against the walls were bare, but held the promise of an explosion of reds and greens once spring was heralded in, and patches of mulched soil announced the emergence of daffodils, crocuses and tulips once winter left the land. Beyond a row of blue point junipers, I spotted a large garden house, which told me here lay a garden belonging to an owner who cared. I’d never expected Jack to possess a green thumb; the man really was full of surprises.

  I followed a brick-lined path in search of the elusive gardener, and finally found Jack digging in the earth with a gardening trowel, a deep frown etched on his face, along with more than a few smudges. He looked quite sexy in his torn jeans and checkered shirt.

  I snuck up on him, and when I crouched down and placed my hands on his eyes from behind, he jerked away and almost keeled over into the shrubbery.

  Looking over, he seemed pained more than pleased at my showing up here.

  “Gracie,” he grunted.

  My heart sank. “Surprise?”

  “It most certainly is.”

  My grin lost some of its exuberance. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  He forced a smile on his face. “Of course. How are you?”

  I stood up, and so did he. Approaching him for a kiss, I was horrified when he jerked his head so my lips landed on his cheek.

  Still I didn’t get the message. I hugged him close and murmured, “I missed you so much.”

  When he didn’t respond, I placed my hands on both sides of his face, pulling his head down to my level. This time, he actually took my hands in his and gently pushed me away.

  Pained, I asked, “Jack, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing, I just...” He stood staring uncomfortably at the ground, looking visibly troubled. “Just...”

  Worry flooded my heart in equal measure as fear. “What happened? Tell me.”

  He shook his head, refusing to look at me. “How are you settling in? Your folks must be over the moon to have you home safe and sound, huh?”

  “I don’t care about my folks. All I care about is you. Why won’t you talk to me, Jack? What’s wrong?”

  He held up his hand in a feeble gesture. “I... talked to my dad, and...”

  Panic made my voice sound shrill to my own ears. “What did he tell you? That I’m the daughter of his mortal enemy? I don’t care about that, Jack, and neither should you. It’s got nothing to do with us.”

  “I... I don’t know, Gracie. Perhaps we shouldn’t complicate things.”

  “Complicate things? What do you mean? Things are perfectly simple. I love you and you love me. Don’t you? Tell me, Jack.”

  Morosely, he stared at his feet. “No, I don’t.” Suddenly, he looked up, his face an emotionless mask. “I would like us to remain friends though, Gracie. Great friends. Do you think that’s possible? I would love that very much. Because...” His voice broke, and he blinked. “Oh, Christ. Why is this so fucking hard?”

  Tears sprang to my eyes, and the sense of fear and panic had spread throughout my entire body, pinning me to the ground and making my stomach turn cartwheels. It was as if I couldn’t breathe. “Jack,” I cried.

  He took my arm. “Look, you better go home, Gracie. You need to rest. The doctor said—”

  I yanked myself free from his grasp. “Screw the doctor!” I stabbed at his chest. “And screw you!”

  He blinked at the sudden harshness. I was surprised myself. I then punched him as hard as I could, which probably wasn’t hard enough, and stalked off toward the house, angrily swiping at my tears.

  Once inside, I slammed the door shut, and stormed through the kitchen en route to the hallway. Drawn by the sound of quarreling voices and slamming doors, Magali stuck her head in.

  “What’s going on?”

  When she saw my face, she immediately came running over.

  “It’s fine,” I muttered, not wanting to draw her into this mess.

  “It’s Jack, isn’t it?” she decided, her lips a fierce slash of fury. “That son of a bitch.”

  I laughed through my tears. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

  She drew me into her arms, and I broke down the moment my head touched her shoulder.

  “There, there,” she murmured. “Don’t let that SOB get you down. I’ll poison his food and put itching powder in all of his socks.”

  “While you’re at it, could you replace the toilet tissue with sandpaper?”

  “Of course I will, honey. The bastard deserves the wrath of a good woman for what he did to you, and wrath is what he’ll get. From now until the end of his life.”

  “Better not. I don’t want you to get fired.”

  Magali snorted. “Fired! Huh! I’ll fire him. Let’s see him get along without me. He’ll starve a painful death in the gutter once I drop his sorry ass.”

  I left the house feeling like an emotional wreck. Though I’d been dumped before, it was the first time my heart had been broken in the process.

  I glanced up at the house one last time, knowing I’d never be back here ever again. Two days had been all Jack needed to make me fall in love with him. And five minutes to reduce me to a sobbing wreck.

  Before I turned away, I thought I saw a glimpse of Jack through the living room window. The curtain moved a fraction of an inch. Was he watching me?

  Then the curtain was drawn aside, and Magali’s cheerful round face appeared. She blew me a goodbye kiss and pushed out her chest and squared her shoulders, then pointed at me. I understood she wanted me to cheer up, so I mimicked her gesture, and we both laughed.

  I then waved my final goodbye, and started walking down the street. I needed to walk this off.

  I decided to follow Magali’s advice and forget about Jack. I’d managed to forget my own name for a while, so forgetting Jack’s shouldn’t be that difficult.

  Chapter 34

  Jack thought he’d never survive as the days stretched into weeks. He’d figured he’d soon forget all about Gracie Travers, but he’d been sorely mistaken.

  She kept occupying his thoughts and dreams of every minute of every day, and when finally he thought he’d discovered the sure-fire way to drive her out of his system, she’d come crashing back again with all the power of hurricane.

  After weeks of mooning, Mike had finally suggested the perfect cure.

  “Booze, buddy. That’s what I’m talking about. The only way to get over a woman is to imbibe all the alcohol you can find, and then add some more. Once you’re drunk as a skunk, you won’t know a thing about her.”

  “And what if I do?”

  “Just drink some more. Until you forget who you are, what you are and where you are. I’m telling you. It’s the only way.”

  “And once my mind is clear again and the alcohol purged from my system? What if she returns to haunt me?”

  Mike—big, blond and loud as always—grimaced. “That would mean the treatment didn’t take and we have to start all over again. Tough, I know.”

  “You mean—”

  “Booze, bubba! More booze! Keep the liquor flowing until you don’t know your ass from your collarbone.”

  It seemed like a reasonable idea to Jack, so he’d gone along with the scheme. Night had fallen, and the two friends had gone on a bender to end all benders, swaying from pub to pub and discotheque to discotheque until they were so far gone, even a passing dog had given them a wide berth.

  They were sitting on the pavement on the Avenue Louise now, where their wanderings had finally landed them, and had resorted to chanting a medley of popular hit songs.

  Jack, though now filled to the brim with the good stuff, discovered to his chagrin that even in this st
ate of mind, he couldn’t get past the simple fact that he still loved Gracie.

  “I love her, Mike!” he slurred. “I’m drunk and I love her!”

  “Who?” inquired Mike, eyes drooping closed.

  “My sister. I’m in love with my baby sister, buddy.”

  Mike took the appropriate time to reflect on this, then said, “Who’s your sister?”

  “Gracie. I love her and she’s my sister.”

  “That’s fine. She’s my sister too.”

  This greatly surprised Jack. “She is? How’s that?”

  Mike swung out a hand to encompass the sky, now dotted with stars. “We’re all sisters and brothers, bubby. And I love them all.” He prodded Jack’s arm. “You’re my brother and I love you.”

  “Aww. That’s so sweet of you. I love you too, brother.”

  “See? It’s not so bad. You love me and I love you and...” He frowned, the complications of this line of reasoning threatening to overpower his pickled brain. “Anyway. It’s all good,” he finally concluded a little lamely.

  “Not so good, Mike. I love Gracie and I hurt her. I told her to buzz off.”

  Mike drew himself up to his full height, eyes still shut closed. “Why did you do a silly thing like that for?”

  “I told you. Because she’s my sister!”

  This gave Mike pause. “Oh.” After a few minutes of silent reflection, he prodded his friend in the ribs again. “Jack?”

  “What.”

  “Did I tell you I love you?”

  “Repeatedly.”

  “Well, just in case I didn’t: I love you, bubby.”

  “I love you too, Mike.”

  Things went downhill from there, and before long, the two inebriates were whisked up by a patrol car, responding to neighborly noise complaints, and locked up in a comfortable cell in Ixelles police station to sleep off their stupor.

  When Jack finally awoke from his sleep of the dead, he was rewarded with both a splitting headache and the sobering realization he’d made a royal fool of himself.