Jacks Are Wild: An Out of Time Novel (Saving Time, Book 1)

by Martin, Monique

  “What we do is dangerous, Simon,” she said.

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “But it is what we do. It’s who we are.”

  “And when the baby comes?”

  He hadn’t meant to say it, but it simply came out. Finally. The thing they’d somehow managed to avoid talking about.

  “We can’t exactly bring her with us, can we?” he continued. Even the thought of her, and he knew deep in his bones that their child would be a girl, made his heart clench.

  Elizabeth frowned. “I don’t know. I always kind of thought we might. Some of the time, anyway.”

  “Elizabeth—”

  “You could carry her around with a little BabyBjörn.”

  Simon couldn’t tell if she was serious or not.

  “Keep your hands free for time travel-related things.”

  Simon laughed then and shook his head. “Elizabeth.”

  She leaned back into the sofa cushions. “I know. But she could come some of the time. On non-gangster missions?”

  Simon couldn’t imagine letting this child out of the house, much less traveling in time with her. “We’ll see.”

  Elizabeth sat up. “I know we need to discuss all that. And we will. And I know having a baby will change things, but we can’t live today worrying about tomorrow.”

  “That’s a rather ironic position for a time traveler to take.”

  “Is it? No matter how much we know about the future or the past, the one thing we know for sure is that none of it is written in stone. Whether we’re in our present or the future or the past, the only thing we can do is what we think is best. Right then. In that moment.”

  Reluctantly, he had to admit she had a point. If they spent too much time looking forward or back, they’d lose the present.

  “And,” she said as she reached out and cupped his cheek, “we’re in this moment, and we know what the right thing is to do.”

  He clenched his jaw and nodded.

  “Besides, I don’t think it’s that dangerous. The mob probably won’t kill us.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “Probably.”

  She took his hand. “I will be careful,” she promised him, “but I have to still be me.”

  He kissed the inside of her wrist. “I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else.”

  ~~~

  Jack waited two hours for Jepson to reappear, then followed him from the hotel. Thankfully, Bobby Lord wasn’t there to muck it up this time. Jepson got in his car and turned east, heading out of town and toward the motel where he’d met Susan.

  Jack trailed him and parked his car on the rear side of the gas station, well out of sight.

  Jepson parked his car out front and got out. He picked up a cardboard file box from the passenger seat and went into the same room as he had before. Jack waited for Susan to show, but she didn’t. Less than ten minutes after he’d arrived, Jepson came out without the box and left.

  Curiosity piqued, Jack decided a little B&E might help shed some light on just what Jepson was up to. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the bobby pin and paperclip he’d brought with him. It only took him a few minutes to fashion them into the perfect lock picking set—tension wrench and pick.

  Making sure the coast was still clear, he hurried across the street and had the door unlocked before anyone could notice what he was doing. He slipped inside the room and pulled the drapes closed the rest of the way.

  The box Jepson had brought in sat in the middle of the queen-sized bed. He walked over to it and pulled it toward him. It was surprisingly light. He pulled off the top to find one folded piece of paper inside.

  He picked it up and read it.

  Don’t move.

  Before he could even realize what an idiot he’d been, he heard the door to the room open. He started to turn.

  “Can’t you read?” Baxter said, his voice punctuated by the cocking of his revolver.

  Jack clenched his jaw and raised his hands in surrender. It was a trap and he’d walked right into it.

  Carefully, Jack turned, sure to keep his hands up where they could be seen. He really had to start wearing a gun, he thought.

  Baxter’s pudgy face twisted into a smirk as he stepped into the room toward Jack, followed closely by Jepson.

  Jepson looked admiringly at the lock. “You made quick work of that,” he said and then closed it. “Strange skill for a … what is it you do again? Paper salesman?”

  Jack didn’t respond.

  Jepson shook his head. “Strange.”

  Baxter, his gun still trained on Jack, the hammer still pulled back and ready to make a mess of his day, patted Jack down. Maybe it was just as well he hadn’t decided to carry today. That was, if he lived to see tomorrow.

  Satisfied he was unarmed, Baxter backed away.

  Jepson nodded toward the bed.

  “I’m afraid I’m not that kind of a boy,” Jack said.

  Despite himself, Jepson chuckled at that. Baxter wasn’t quite so amused. “Smart ass, huh?”

  Jack sighed. “Not smart enough apparently.”

  He was usually pretty good at this sort of thing and needed to know his mistake. “How did you know I’d come here?”

  “While you were watching me and my friend,” Jepson said. “Baxter was watching you.”

  He leaned against the small table and put his foot up on the edge of the bed, resting his gun on his thigh. “You’ve been busy since you came to town. Chatting up the Whitmores.”

  “I’m friendly.”

  “Among other things,” Jepson said. “We’ve been watching you and I’m curious. Who are you?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “Except we have the guns,” Jepson said.

  The man had a point. Jack shrugged. “All right, but you’re not going to like it.”

  “Humor me.”

  “I’m a paper salesman.”

  “You think this is funny?” Baxter said.

  Jack reached for his breast pocket, but Baxter started at the movement and Jack stopped. He held up his hands again and then slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the business cards Travers had made for him. He held it out between two fingers.

  “Call them and ask. Boss’ll get a kick out of it.”

  Jepson pushed himself off the table and took the card. He read it and slipped it into his pocket.

  “And you just get your kicks out of following people, breaking into hotel rooms?”

  Jack eyed Jepson carefully. He saw now what he hadn’t seen before. “Let me guess. CIA? NSA?”

  Jepson’s expression didn’t change, but Baxter’s did.

  “I’m close,” Jack said. He looked at Baxter’s gun—a .357. Put that together with the man Jepson had made the drop to and it only came out one way. “FBI.”

  “Gaming Commission, technically,” Jepson corrected.

  Baxter glared at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking a chance, Otis.”

  “If the boss hears about—”

  Jepson looked at him harshly. “Then don’t tell him.”

  He looked back at Jack. “So, now I’ve laid my cards on the table. What about yours?”

  Jack smiled. “I’m a paper salesman.”

  Jepson’s smile faded.

  “I really am, but I wasn’t always. In Korea and for a few years after that, I was with the Agency.” Sometimes the best lie was one that lived right next to the truth.

  “You know we can check that?” Baxter said.

  Jack nodded, and prayed that the cover Travers had given him would hold up.

  “And you decided to get mixed up in all this because …?” Jepson asked.

  Jack grinned. “You’ve met Susan Whitmore.”

  “All of this for a pretty face?”

  “No,” Jack said. “Not just that. I really was just in the right place at the right time with the Falco business.”

  He gauged their reactions. It wasn’t news.<
br />
  “And after that, Whitmore needed some help and …”

  “Your instincts kicked in?” Jepson finished for him.

  Jack nodded. “Something like that. I knew something was wrong. Something more than a disgruntled employee. Started pulling the string,” he said, “and you two fell out.”

  Jepson frowned. “Yeah. Anyone else know all this? That couple you know, the Crosses?”

  “About you?” He shook his head. “No one.”

  Jepson weighed his options and heaved a heavy sigh.

  “We should get rid of him,” Baxter said. Jack was pretty sure he’d already be dead if Jepson hadn’t been there.

  “Kill him?” Jepson sounded shocked.

  “Naw,” Baxter said, although from the look in his eyes, he wouldn’t mind that alternative. “Have the boys pick him up. Take him out of town.”

  Jepson considered it then shook his head. “No, people would start talking. The Crosses, the Whitmores. The last thing we want to do is draw more attention to things. She’s spooked enough as it is.”

  So that was it, Jack realized. They were after Susan. Probably wanted her to spill on her husband and the rest. Now that was a dangerous game. No wonder Susan was so worried. Hell, she wasn’t worried enough.

  Baxter shook his head. “We’ll have to call it off.” He glared at Jack. “All this work for nothing.”

  Jepson stood. “Not necessarily. She trusts me, I think. We don’t have to throw in the towel yet.”

  Baxter waved his gun toward Jack. “You’re just gonna let him go? He’ll spill the beans, I’m tellin’ ya.”

  Jepson looked at Jack appraisingly. “No, I don’t think he will.”

  “You don’t think?”

  Jepson smiled. “When have I ever been wrong?”

  Baxter frowned. “Crazy.” He wasn’t on board, but he relaxed and rested the gun on top of his thigh. At least, he wasn’t waving it around anymore.

  Jepson walked over to Jack. “If things check out and you are who you say you are, you can stay. But I’m risking a lot here. You better keep your mouth shut. It won’t just be your life on the line if you slip up. If anyone finds out what we’re trying to do, that she’s even talked to us, she’ll die.”

  Jack nodded. “I get it.”

  Jepson looked at him again. “Her life is in your hands, Wells.”

  ~~~

  “I really shouldn’t bet on the horses. My last nag was so slow, the jockey kept a diary of the trip.”

  Elizabeth giggled into her drink as she stood at the back of the lounge. The Great Merlini told terrible jokes, but she loved them. She loved him. He was old school. It reminded her of some of the jokes Fun Tony used to tell in the back of the pool halls when she was a kid. It was all schtick and schmaltz and right off the old Vaudeville circuit. But then, judging from the Great Merlini’s white hair, he probably actually played the circuits back in the day.

  “My horse was so late getting home, he tiptoed into the stables.”

  She giggled again and looked for a table. There were plenty to choose from. The lounge was small; it probably held fifty or sixty people when it was full, and it was far from full tonight.

  It wasn’t like Jack to stand her up. She’d been looking forward to dinner with just the two of them. She tried not to worry though. He probably found a lead that had to be chased, or a skirt.

  Left to her own devices, she decided to make the most of it and tried her hand at the tables. She’d done well, very well, but it wasn’t as much fun without Simon. She’d cashed out and looked for something else to do and ended up here.

  There weren’t even a dozen people in the lounge, and only one of them was even listening. A few couples were scattered around the room, quietly arguing or canoodling, but all completely ignoring the show. A drunk sat up front snoring loudly.

  Merlini randomly added cocktail umbrellas to the man’s hair, eliciting a laugh from the only person watching—Susan.

  She sat alone at a table off to the side.

  “Well, another beautiful woman,” Merlini exclaimed as Elizabeth walked in. “God does answer prayers. Come on in, don’t be shy.”

  Susan looked up and saw Elizabeth. There was a moment of hesitation, but Susan waved her over.

  “It’ll be over soon. Right?” he said to the empty top hat in his hand. He reached into it and pulled out a rubber chicken. “I gotta get a new straight man. This one’s for the birds.”

  He tossed the chicken aside.

  Elizabeth arrived at Susan’s table. “I don’t want to interrupt your evening.”

  “Please do,” Susan said and moved her pocketbook from the setting in front of Elizabeth’s chair. She looked up at Merlini fondly. “I like to come here. He’s corny, but comforting.”

  Merlini stood at the foot of the stage. “And now, I will make the entire audience disappear!”

  Then he put on a blindfold.

  Elizabeth laughed. Susan shook her head, but she couldn’t hide her smile.

  Merlini took off his blindfold and stuffed it the pocket of his tuxedo and sat down at the piano. “And now my rendition of Pennies from Heaven, also guaranteed to make an audience disappear.”

  They watched a few more minutes of this show in silence and then Elizabeth turned to Susan. “I wanted to thank you for letting us join you at the party last night.”

  “You’re very welcome,” Susan replied, and then seemed to realize for the first time that Elizabeth was alone. “Where’s your husband?”

  Elizabeth paused for a moment, not sure if she should play this card yet or not, but it wouldn’t help her get closer to Susan if she lied to her. Playing mostly dumb seemed like the best option.

  “Having dinner with your father,” Elizabeth said. “Business.”

  “Really?” She took a sip of her martini. “What sort of business?”

  Elizabeth looked around the room to see if anyone might be listening. “About the hotel.”

  Susan looked confused. “What hotel?”

  “The Paradise.”

  Susan shook her head. “You must be confused.”

  Elizabeth continued to play dumb. “I am. But your father showed us some property for sale this morning and I couldn’t believe it when he pulled in here, at the Para—”

  Susan blanched. “For sale?”

  “That’s what he said. A lease was expiring and—”

  “There must be some sort of mistake.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t know. It seemed odd to me, but—”

  “Mrs. Santo?” a young waitress said as she arrived at the table. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there was a call for you and I was asked to give you this.”

  She handed Susan a note.

  “Thank you.”

  She opened the little slip of paper and her eyebrows drew together in worry.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Susan looked at the note and nodded slowly. She smiled apologetically, but she seemed nervous. “I’m afraid I have to go.”

  She gathered her things quickly. “We’ll talk tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  Susan nodded and hurried toward the door. What was in that note had her spooked, and that spooked Elizabeth by proxy. Whatever her promises to Simon earlier, Susan’s welfare came first, it had to.

  Elizabeth hurried after her. She nearly tripped on something near the door and grabbed onto the wall to keep from falling. She glared down at it, only to realize it was a wallet. She picked it up. A large SWS monogram was raised in the quality leather. Susan’s wallet.

  In her rush, Susan hadn’t closed the clasp to her purse and it must have fallen out.

  Elizabeth grinned. The perfect excuse to catch up to her and try to find out what was going on.

  She hurried into the casino just in time to see Susan open a service entrance door and slip out of sight. Where was she going?

  Elizabeth followed as quickly as she could without drawing attention. The door led to a long c
orridor that ran through the bowels of the hotel. She could just make out Susan at the end of it, going through another door.

  Heedless of the people staring, Elizabeth double-timed it down the hall. She nearly took another header as a food service cart came out of the kitchen, but Elizabeth managed to sidestep it without breaking her ankle.

  Finally, she reached the door at the far end of the hall and pushed it open. She stumbled out into the parking lot.

  She looked around quickly for Susan. She saw her blonde hair about five rows over just before she got into a car. Elizabeth ran to catch up and found her sitting in a beautiful convertible Corvette with the top up.

  She panted for breath and Susan turned to look at her in alarm.

  “Just out of breath,” Elizabeth gasped and leaned down to pass the wallet through the open passenger side window. “You dropped—”

  The big black barrel of a gun interrupted her as it turned to face her from the back seat like a snake.

  “Shut up and get in.”

  Susan’s already pale skin paled that much more and she looked at Elizabeth in complete terror. Elizabeth’s heart dropped. Simon was going to kill her, unless this guy did it first. But the gun pointed at her chest aside, she couldn’t in good conscience leave Susan to go it alone.

  “Okay,” Elizabeth said and got into the car. Slowly, she started to turn to try to reason with the gunman. “I don’t know—”

  “I told you to shut up!”

  He waved the gun perilously close to her face for emphasis, which really wasn’t needed. Guns spoke loudly enough.

  Despite the warning, she did catch a glimpse of the man and wished she hadn’t. Not that she’d seen his face, he was wearing a mask, and that was the problem. A clown. As if this wasn’t terrifying enough.

  Elizabeth fought down her shudder and straightened in her seat.

  “Drive,” the man said.

  “I don’t have the keys.” Susan started to turn reflexively and the gun shifted toward her. She gasped and the man pushed the gun barrel into her cheek.

  The hand that held the gun had a large scar across the back of it, like someone had tried to cut his hand in half and not too long ago. The scar was still pink and fresh.

  He reached forward with his other hand and slapped down the sun visor. A set of keys fell into Susan’s lap.