by Karen Leabo
Still, she knew she would have to try. It was the only alternative left to her, if Joe Andresi managed to deliver her safely into her stepfather’s custody.
She shivered at the thought, feeling a renewed surge of anger toward her captor. He hadn’t believed her when she’d told him about the abuse. He’d no doubt dismissed the notion as the foolish ravings of a demented woman.
She shivered again, and realized her bathwater had grown cold. The bath hadn’t been much of a haven, anyway—too many unpleasant thoughts chasing themselves around in her head. She opened the drain, pulled herself out of the water, and dried off with a towel softer than anything she’d felt against her skin in a long time.
She peeked out of the bathroom to check on Cathy, who was curled up in a tight ball beneath the covers, sound asleep. Jenn hoped there wouldn’t be any nightmares tonight.
She had just slipped a cotton nightgown over her head when she heard an anguished groan erupting from the sitting room, followed by, “God—goldarnit! Hell—hellfire and son of a—Dammit, no!”
Alarmed, she scurried to the connecting door with visions of Joe fending off an attack, only to see him on his feet, shaking his fist at the television set.
Fear turned to annoyance. “Do you mind?” she said peevishly. “I have an impressionable little girl asleep in here, and you’re going to wake...” Her words trailed off as Joe turned toward her. His shirt was unbuttoned, the tails hanging loose, and the sight of his bare chest had momentarily stolen her voice. It was a nice chest, she had to admit, the muscles well-defined with just enough hair to make it interesting.
Joe wasn’t saying anything either, just staring at her, and she realized belatedly that she hadn’t fastened the buttons at the neck of her gown, and the flimsy white cotton was clinging to her damp body like a second skin.
She plucked the fabric away from her breasts. “Is there something wrong?” she asked, her shaky voice giving away her discomfiture.
“Um...” He looked away. “In the first place, I didn’t mean to yell so loud, and I hope I didn’t wake Cathy up, but with her in mind, what I said wasn’t nearly as filthy as what I wanted to say. The airline pilots union just went on strike.”
“Oh? Oh,” she said as the meaning behind his words hit home. “We can’t fly home tomorrow?”
“Good answer.”
“And how long will this strike last?”
“Good question.” Joe ran his fingers through his thick, black hair. “A few days, weeks? Who knows?”
“Ah.” She thought about what this bit of news might mean to her, then glanced around the sitting room. “Well, this isn’t such a bad place to wait out the strike, is it?”
Joe snorted. “In your dreams. I’m not going to sit here while you suck up room service and eat away all the reward money. My car repairs, at least the mechanical part, should be finished tomorrow. We’ll drive back.”
“I was afraid of that.” Actually, Jenn couldn’t have been more pleased. It would take several days to drive to Alabama from Seattle. Undoubtedly during that time she would be presented with another opportunity for escape. The pilots’ strike suited her just fine. “The bathroom’s free now,” she said. “And if you get up before me, Cathy and I would like eggs, toast and orange juice for breakfast.”
She turned to retreat into the bedroom but he halted her with a, “Wait.”
“What now?”
“I don’t really want to do this, but I know that the minute I’m in the shower, you two would be out the door in a flash.” He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a pair of shiny metal handcuffs.
Jenn gasped. “You wouldn’t. I—I won’t.”
“I would, and you will,” he said purposefully, closing the distance between them. He took her hand and led her, still sputtering protests, into the bedroom. With his voice lowered, he asked, “Do you sleep on your stomach or your back?”
“Both, if it’s any of your business. I flip around.”
“Let me rephrase the question. Tonight, do you want to sleep on your stomach or back?” When she didn’t answer, he sighed, cuffed her right wrist, then attached the other end of the cuffs to the bed’s pseudobrass headboard.
“I suppose you like being the big, macho man,” she said, shivering a bit at the reminder of how much power this man had over her at the moment.
When his gaze met hers, though, she realized the expression in his eyes was pure regret. “I’m not enjoying this,” he said. Then he stood and headed for the bathroom.
Jenn maneuvered under the covers. She would never be able to sleep with her arm wrenched over her head. Maybe she should have let him cuff her other hand instead, so she could sleep on her stomach. But that probably would have been just as bad.
She heard the unmistakable noises of clothing being shed, boots hitting the tile floor, then the tub faucet running. She thought about the glimpse of chest she’d seen, and her imagination involuntarily filled in the rest of the picture. She despised the man, but she had to admit he wasn’t bad to look at.
She closed her eyes and tried an exercise her psychologist had once given her, back before the accident when she and Doug were having problems. Or rather, she was having problems relating sexually to her husband, despite the fact that she’d loved him to distraction. The exercise involved imagining herself touching a man she found attractive—in this case, running her fingers through Joe Andresi’s hair. It wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was kind of nice...until she imagined him touching her in return. Then she felt the familiar clenching of her stomach, the shortness of breath. After a few moments of steady breathing she managed to get the panicky feelings under control, but her imagination refused to supply the rest of the fantasy.
Just as well. If she was ever going to decide she liked having a man touch her, now wasn’t the time. She closed her eyes and tried to relax and empty her mind.
The next thing she was aware of, the room was dark and quiet, with only the lingering scent of soap to remind her that Joe had been showering in the bathroom. She must have fallen asleep, miracle of miracles.
“Mama?” Cathy whispered.
Jenn realized she’d been awakened by her daughter’s voice. “What is it, punkin?”
“Mr. ’Dresi is asleep. We can run away now.”
“Mmm, nice thought, but I can’t. Mr. Andresi handcuffed me to the bed.” She gave the cuffs a rattle for emphasis.
“I know. I was only pretending to be asleep.”
“Then you know I can’t...” Jenn stopped as Cathy held out something in her hand, something that glittered in the faint city light filtering through the curtains. “You have the key?”
“Uh-huh. I saw him put it in his pocket. So after he went to sleep, I took it.”
Again, Jenn felt slightly alarmed by her daughter’s burgeoning criminal bent. Ah, hell, she’d deal with that later. Right now she was grateful.
In seconds she was free. Cathy clapped her hand over her mouth to mask the sounds of her delight.
“All right,” Jenn whispered. “We’re on our way. Let’s put on our clothes, then pack up one bag each and tiptoe out of here. Remember, be very quiet. If Mr. Andresi wakes up, our bacon’s cooked.”
Cathy nodded, pantomiming the act of zipping up her lips.
They were ready to leave in less than ten minutes. Joe was still snoring softly as they tiptoed through the sitting room. Jenn eased the dead bolt open. The door made a loud click when the latch gave, and Jenn held her breath, but Joe’s breathing never changed. She felt an odd sense of regret at leaving him this way, even though he was her enemy. He had, after all, fed them, housed them, and treated them with some degree of kindness.
Ruthlessly she pushed such sentimental nonsense aside and listened to her survival instincts. In moments they were standing in front of the elevators.
“Where we going?” Cathy asked, yawning now that the most exciting part of their escape was over.
“We’ll go down to the lobby and call Mrs. Vale
nti. She’ll help us. Oh, no, wait. Mrs. Valenti doesn’t have a car.” They could take a taxi, but where would they go? “I know. I’ll call Rudy, my boss. If anyone can get us out of town on a moment’s notice, I’ll bet Rudy can.”
“I wish I’d brought my teddy,” Cathy said, transforming from escape artist to bewildered little girl in seconds flat.
Jenn put her arm around her daughter’s frail shoulders. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll get you another teddy, soon as we’re settled someplace.”
Joe wasn’t sure what had awakened him, but he gradually became aware that something wasn’t right. A breeze was stirring where there should be none; the connecting door stood wide open, when he knew he’d shut it tight before stretching out on the sofa bed.
An adrenaline rush pushed him out of bed and toward the light switch. The sudden onslaught of the overhead light blinded him for a few moments. He blinked, then peered into the dim recesses of the bedroom. His worst fears were confirmed. The bed was empty, and the handcuffs hung useless from the headboard.
“Son of a...” He let loose with the string of curses he’d held back earlier. No doubt his prisoners’ departure was what had awakened him, so they couldn’t be far ahead of him.
He didn’t have time to dress. He was wearing gym shorts, so he grabbed a T-shirt on the way out the door and pulled it over his head as he ran full tilt down the hall toward the elevators. He turned the corner just in time to see a glimpse of Jenn’s short black hair before the doors closed.
Cursing again, hardly pausing to think, he headed for the stairs. He was only four floors up, and the elevator was slow. He could beat it. The concrete banged against his bare feet as he thudded down the four flights faster than he’d ever run down stairs in his life. His heart was pounding by the time he burst into the lobby.
A couple in evening dress stated at him, but he paid them no mind. He was staring at the elevator doors. They were closed, and both elevators were on the second floor, heading down.
“Did it,” he murmured, taking in great gulps of air. Now came the hard part. Jenn would cause a scene—he knew she would.
According to the clock on the wall, it wasn’t yet midnight. There were enough people milling about that she would have no trouble enlisting some stranger’s sympathy, and Joe didn’t have so much as a library card on him to identify him or give him authority to take Jenn and Cathy into custody.
One elevator opened. A group of laughing conventioneers got off, but no Jenn and Cathy. The second one opened. It, too, was packed with older couples wearing badges. They filed out slowly, helping one man in a wheelchair. When the way cleared, Joe spotted his quarry standing patiently in the back.
He saw them first.
“Mr. Andresi?” a voice beside him said. “Is there a problem?”
Although Joe kept his gaze trained on his prisoners, he knew the voice belonged to Wayne Patton, the hotel’s fastidious security director. Previously Joe had alerted Mr. Patton to the peculiar nature of his stay at the hotel, and now he was glad he had.
“My prisoners escaped,” Joe said, nodding toward Jenn and Cathy. Just then Jenn looked up and saw him. Her eyes grew big and round with fear, and for a moment Joe really hated that he would inspire fear in a woman, any woman.
Cathy saw him, too, and clung to her mother’s jacket. “Mama,” she whimpered.
That whimper just about undid him. He’d tracked down dozens, maybe hundreds, of escaped felons, runaway wives, and fathers delinquent with their child support, but he’d never before held a child against her will. He hadn’t gone into this business so he could be an ogre in a little girl’s nightmare.
Jenn looked at him, then at Patton. He could see her quickly sizing up the situation, deciding on a maneuver. She stepped off the elevator with Cathy still clinging to her and grabbed onto Patton’s arm.
“Please, help us,” she said in the most heart-rending tones imaginable. “This man is my ex-boyfriend. He’s ... he’s been stalking me. He tried—”
“Nice try, Ms...Montgomery, is it? But I’ve already been apprised of the situation.”
“What situation?” Jenn tried again. “Whatever he told you, he’s lying.”
Joe knew the best way to counter Jenn’s pseudohysteria was with calm reason. “I have all the paperwork upstairs, my license, the warrant, the extradition order. Would you care to come upstairs and inspect it, Mr. Patton?”
Patton looked at Jenn. “It’s up to you, miss. Would you like me to verify that this man has the right to hold you in custody?”
Indecision played about her face before she shook her head. “I guess not.”
“Good. Um, the elevator’s waiting for you.” He gave Joe’s inappropriate costume one final up-and-down before turning to leave.
“Ladies?” Joe said, indicating they should precede him back into the elevator. With a resigned sigh, Jenn complied, leading Cathy by the hand.
As soon as the doors closed, Cathy folded her arms and stared mutinously at Joe. “You’re a son of a—”
“Cathy!” Jenn interrupted.
“You said that’s what he was, Mama.”
Jenn turned a becoming shade of pink, and Joe thought, not for the first time, that if he’d met her under different circumstances he would be tempted to at least flirt with her. The image of her standing in front of him in that damp nightgown came to mind.
“I was wrong to say that,” Jenn said. “It’s okay to be angry, Cathy, but not with those words.”
“What words, then?”
Joe knew she was mulling over several possibilities, all of them probably less appropriate than the one Cathy had almost used.
“Let’s just say that, for the moment, he’s meaner and smarter than either of us,” she said. “But that could change.”
Joe took the warning to heart. He’d have to be more careful in the future. He wondered how many days it would take to drive to Rhymer.
Chapter 4
Joe didn’t sleep much that night. Every breath, every sigh, every rustle of the sheets coming from the other room put him on the alert. But his prisoners made no further attempts at escape that night. They appeared to be sleeping peacefully, which only put Joe, with his insomnia, in a worse mood.
Sometime close to dawn he finally fell asleep. When next he woke up, he gradually became aware of a peculiar sensation that he was being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
He cracked open one sleep-scratchy eye. There was Cathy in a Ninja Turtle sleep shirt, a large, pink teddy bear tucked under her arm. She was studying him with the intensity of a botanist examining a new plant species.
“You must be an early riser,” Joe observed.
Cathy nodded. “But Mama doesn’t like me to wake her up until seven.”
“You can tell time?”
“Uh-huh. Mama bought me this watch at a garage sale.” She proudly displayed the plastic digital watch around her wrist. The watch had a mermaid on it.
“Very nice. Do you go to a lot of garage sales?”
She nodded and began chewing on one end of the purple ribbon around the bear’s neck. “We find some real neat stuff that other people don’t want,” she said, “like a treasure hunt. Mama says it’s recycling.”
That was one way to look at it, he supposed. He imagined Jenn had tried to make their situation more tolerable by turning everything into a game, looking at the bright side. She did care for her daughter, no matter what Dennis Palmer thought.
“Don’t you wear pajamas?” Cathy asked.
Slightly uncomfortable with her observation, he pulled the blanket up higher over his bare chest. “No. Listen, Cathy, you can turn the TV on real quiet if you like, but I’d like to get a little more sleep, okay?”
She nodded, though she was clearly disappointed, and wandered over to the TV. Joe rolled over and put a pillow over his head. But after a few minutes, he realized the TV wasn’t on. And again he felt he was being watched.
He rolled back over and, su
re enough, the little imp was sitting on the edge of the glass-topped coffee table, still solemnly staring at him. Apparently her fear of him had given way to curiosity.
“Do you have to watch me sleep?” he asked irritably.
“I’m sorry,” she said, hanging her head.
Joe was immediately contrite. “No, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t jump on you like that.”
“Why are you being so mean to me and Mama?”
Joe had a feeling he wasn’t going to get any more sleep this morning. He sat up on the lumpy sofa bed, propped himself up on a couple of pillows, rubbed his hand over his unshaven face, and thought hard before answering.
“It’s my job to find people who are missing.”
“You mean, someone pays you to be mean?”
He shut his eyes, trying to find the right words. He wasn’t used to dealing with children and the literal way they took everything that was said to them. “I’m not trying to be mean. I don’t want to hurt either you or your mother. But your grandparents miss you very much, and they want me to bring you home.”
Cathy’s face clouded over. “But we don’t want to go back there. You can’t make us.” Suddenly her eyebrows flew up. “I know. I’ll call the police.” She hopped off her chair, ran to the phone, and picked up the receiver. Before dialing, she looked over her shoulder to see if her threat was having any effect.
“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I haven’t committed any crime. In fact, the police have been looking for you and your mama just like I have.”
“Why?” Cathy asked, still clutching the receiver.
“Because...because your mama broke the law.”
“She did not!”
“She thought she was doing the right thing by taking you away,” Joe hastened to explain, “because she loves you very much. But there’s a court order...” No, that wouldn’t do. How did one explain the concept of legal custody to a five-year-old? He tried a different tack. “Do you remember when your mama was in a car accident?”
