Chain Reaction Power Failure Book I

by Andrew Draper

  His eyes again met hers. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

  “Yes. We’ll have what we need…when we need it.”

  “Good. Without him, we’ve got nothing…except a colossal waste of our time.”

  “I told you I did my part. He’ll get the contracts approved, but you’ve got to get the product lined up. The contract approval is meaningless without control of the patent.”

  Intentionally ignoring her rebuke, he continued. “You took care of the other details as well, I presume?”

  “Of course I did. I bought the blocks of stock in the production company and the contract approval is all lined up. Now all we need is the project design to secure the patent rights.”

  “I’ll have that in place by the end of the day.”

  “Really, you’re sure? I thought you said Verde’s being ‘difficult’.”

  “Yes. He’s dragging his feet about getting me control of the project, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  She gave him a questioning glance, then shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled. Enough business for tonight, since we’re both ‘unattached’…at least for the moment, let’s enjoy the party.”

  He slid his hand under the tablecloth and rested it on her thigh. He relished the feel of the warm flesh against his fingertips.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” she playfully warned, lifting his hand from her leg and pushing it away. “You know the rules.”

  He exhaled an artificially heavy sigh. “Yes, I know. You’ll sleep with anyone but me.”

  She flashed an impish grin, her green eyes lighting mischievously. “Sorry. I don’t sleep with my partners…makes things too complicated. It’s bad for business.”

  His eyes met hers in a sideways glance. “And when this is over?”

  She leaned over and her lips just brushed his ear, sending a shiver racing down his back. “When this is over…and we’re both disgustingly rich, that pesky rule will no longer apply.”

  A quick glance around the room confirming they remained unnoticed, she caressed his manhood through his uniform slacks, the sudden touch causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

  “I promise; it’ll be worth the wait.” She breathed into his ear, then licked the lobe for good measure.

  “Of that I have no doubt.” He agreed, swallowing dryly. “Would you like another drink?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He stood and moved toward the bar. He handed over his glass and the bartender refilled it. Ordering Clarissa’s Martini, he withdrew his phone from his jacket and dialed as the bartender mixed the concoction. After the sixth ring, he closed the cover. Dammit! Why doesn’t he answer?

  Taking the drink from the bartender’s outstretched hand, he returned to the table and his “partner”.

  Unbeknownst to Freemont, on the other side of town Jack Verde’s cell phone continued to chirp in the holster attached to his belt. The electronic plea for attention went unanswered, the sound bouncing off the cold steel walls of the trash dumpster before fading into silence.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The morning sun streaming through the windows woke Aaron and he was instantly aware of the events of the previous night. Sitting up in the chair, he stretched his sore muscles and looked at the young woman lying in the bed. She looked helpless as she lay there sleeping, her chest rising and falling, her breathing slow and steady. He also noticed Rambo had curled up in a ball, fast asleep at her feet.

  “Rambo, get off the bed.” He scolded gently.

  The cat sat up, meowing coarsely at him as she stretched and flexed her long claws.

  “Oh, I get it,” he said in mock amusement, “You’re standing guard, right?”

  In response, Rambo puffed up her long white fur from head to tail in an attempt to look bigger and more formidable, a tactic Aaron found funny. He smiled at the feline’s display.

  Oh, you’re so tough. You look like a giant cotton ball.”

  He picked Rambo up and moved her to the chair. “All right killer, you watch her. I’ve gotta have some coffee.”

  Rambo followed him into the kitchen, meowing impatiently for her morning meal.

  After he fed the cat, he took his coffee back into the bedroom and again sat down next to the bed. He sipped the steaming brew, looking down at his guest, wondering who she was and how she got in this condition. He’d checked all the news broadcasts and discovered she wasn’t on any of them. It puzzled him that no one had reported her missing. He found the same when he’d read the newspaper.

  No mention of a missing woman. How weird, that nobody is looking for you.

  He sat at her bedside on and off for the entire day and into the evening. At about eight p.m. he heard a small groan and he went to check on his ward. As he walked through the door, he saw that she was awake, her good eye searching the room.

  After taking a brief moment to register his presence, a piercing scream began in her throat, only to quickly die on her lips. She grabbed her chest, hissing in pain and crawled backward on the bed, her face a mask of blind panic.

  “Stay back!” she gasped, the effort causing her to cough violently and again wrap her arms protectively around her battered ribs.

  He took a step back. “It’s all right. I won’t come any closer. You’re safe.”

  She started to get up and he headed her off with an outstretched hand.

  “You’ve been injured. Just stay still. You’re safe here.”

  She looked up at him, her face lined with fear and pain. She cowered against the bed’s carved headboard.

  “I said stay back!” she yelled again, pressing tighter against the headboard as the pain racked her body.

  He could tell she was still in a daze, but coming around. He spoke quietly, hoping the calming tones would reassure the frightened girl. “I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help.”

  The woman blinked several more times and looked around, trying to understand her surroundings, alarm still evident in her weak voice. “Who are you?” she wheezed coarsely. “Where am I?”

  He took a step forward and she again struggled to move away. She jerked the lamp off the nightstand to her right, swinging it menacingly. “Stay back! I mean it!”

  “Just stay still. You had an accident, but you’re going to be all right.”

  Her speech was slightly garbled, due to her split lip and her broken speech told him she still struggled to stay coherent. “Accident? What accident? Where am I?”

  “Don’t worry. You’re safe. My name is Aaron Casey. You’re in my apartment.”

  She glared at him. “How did I get here?”

  “I brought you here. I found you. You were injured,” he again moved closer. “You can put down the lamp. I won’t hurt you. You’re safe here.”

  Her doe-like eyes following his every move, he slowly reached for the chair next to the bed and pulled it to him, retreating a few steps before sitting.

  “Just stay over there.” She hissed as she replaced the lamp on the table.

  “What’s your name?” Aaron asked.

  The woman took a small breath and replied with some difficulty. “Jenny.”

  “All right, Jenny. Do you want me to get you a doctor?”

  She drew a long, slow breath through clenched teeth. “No doctors or hospitals, please. I just need some water.”

  He had a glass ready on the nightstand and held the straw to her lips. She took a small drink, winced in pain, then swallowed.

  “You just rest now.”

  Lying back down, she nodded and closed her eyes.

  He walked to the door and as he stopped to turn out the light, she called to him. “Aaron, is it?”

  He turned to her. “Yes?”

  “Thank you,”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She didn’t hear him. She was already asleep again.

  Aaron called Carlotta to stay with Jenny, while he went to the store. As he walked the block to the market, he thought abo
ut the woman upstairs.

  How could someone beat her up like that…and why isn’t anybody looking for her?

  He got a few things at the store, bandages and antiseptic for Jenny’s cuts and a bottle of rum for himself.

  After all I’ve been through in the last forty-eight hours I’m entitled to a drink…or two.

  He returned to find his housekeeper sitting on the bed, trying to spoon-feed his guest a bowl of soup.

  “Feeling better?” He asked.

  In a voice still slightly slurred but stronger, she answered. “Yes. A little, I guess.”

  As Jenny continued to eat, Rambo jumped up on the bed and meowed, sniffing at the bowl of soup, her little pink nose working overtime.

  “Hi there kitty.” Jenny said.

  Aaron laughed. “I think she wants your soup.”

  “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

  “Her name’s Rambo.”

  “How did she get a name like that?”

  “It’s a long story. But if you want, I’ll tell you later, when you’re rested.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Okay.” Aaron agreed, “But first, I need to make sure you’re all right. Do you want to see a doctor? I asked you before, but you were still kinda out of it.”

  “No, I don’t think I need a doctor. I’m feeling much better. Just got my bell rung, that’s all.”

  “Bell rung is right.” he said, not falling for the transparent lie for a second. “Are you sure you don’t want a doctor? You have some cracked ribs and a sprained wrist…along with a bunch of bumps and bruises.”

  Carlotta interrupted, “Well, I’m going to leave you two alone now.”

  As he walked her to the door, he thanked Carlotta for staying with Jenny, and offered to pay her.

  “No way, Aaron. I know all about being beaten up,” she said, referring to her ex-husband. “I’m just glad I could help. If you need me again, just call.”

  Carlotta went home, leaving Aaron and Jenny to their individual thoughts. He felt like now would be as good a time as any to ask her some questions.

  “Jenny, do you remember how this happened to you?”

  She hesitated and he saw the fear splash across her face like paint. “No, I don’t remember much. How did I get here?”

  “I brought you here. You didn’t want to go to the hospital.”

  “Where did you find me?”

  “On an empty floor of my building. Do you remember how you got there?”

  “The last thing that I remember is going back to my office to get my keys.”

  “What time was that?”

  “It was a little after seven. I know because I was late for a date.”

  He nodded in understanding. “Well, I found you at a little after two a.m., so that leaves seven hours unaccounted for. Where is your office?”

  “It’s in that new building downtown, the Boston Tower.”

  “That’s where I found you, in my building.” he repeated.

  “What do you mean your building?”

  “I mean I built it. I introduced myself earlier, but you may not remember. I’m Aaron Casey, owner of Casey Construction.”

  She tried to reach up and shake his outstretched hand, but pulled back suddenly. “Owww, God, that hurts.”

  “Just take it easy. You’re banged up pretty good.” he said.

  She slowly eased her arm back down. “I’m Jennifer Ryan. Thank you for what you did for me.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m just glad I found you when I did. Do you have any idea how you were injured?”

  “No. No, I have no idea. Somebody hit me from behind. It must have been a mugger or something.”

  He noticed her clipped response came just a little too quickly. “Well, it’s late and you need your rest. Is there anyone you want me to call for you?”

  “No. I live alone.”

  “Well, you are welcome to stay here tonight, if you want to. I can take you home in the morning.”

  “Thank you. That’s very generous.”

  “Well, Okay. Do you need anything before I go to bed?”

  “No, I’m fine, but I do need to use your bathroom.”

  “It’s the first door on the right, do you need help walking?”

  “No, I think I can make it.”

  As Jenny started to get out of the bed, she moved the blankets and suddenly realized she was nearly naked underneath, wearing only her panties.

  She gave him a sheepish look, pulling the covers up to her chin. “Excuse me Aaron, I don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, but where are my clothes? And more importantly, who took them off me?”

  Aaron’s face reddened and he held back an embarrassed chuckle. “Your clothes are in the trash. They were ripped, and covered with blood. Mrs. Nunez, the lady with the soup, she took them off and covered you with the blankets. I wasn’t even in the room.”

  She looked at him, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

  He held up his hand in a three-finger salute. “Scout’s honor. I’ll get you something to put on.”

  While he explained, he retrieved a robe from a hook on the back of the closet door and handed it to her. “You can wear this until tomorrow, then we’ll get you some new clothes.”

  Jenny accepted the robe and noticed his face had progressed to a very bright red. He turned his back while she slipped it on.

  He waited for her at the bathroom door, in case she needed any help getting back to bed. After he got her settled in again, he said good night and was about to leave when she spoke. “Are you going to tell me how Rambo got her name, like you promised?”

  He was surprised she remembered. “Sure. If you’re up to it?”

  Rambo heard her name and came trotting into the room as if on cue. She jumped up on the bed and meowed softly.

  He reached out and scratched the cat behind her ears. “This little hairball came into my life almost a year ago. I found her and two litter-mates abandoned on one of my construction sites…half frozen. She couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old.”

  Jenny listened intently as he continued.

  “The little monster caught a mouse and was trying to figure out how to eat it. Her eyes weren’t even completely open, and already she hunted for food. That’s why I call her Rambo, because she’s a fighter. We’ve been together ever since.”

  Jenny tried to smile, and Aaron visualized for a moment what she would look like without all the bruises.

  “I guess you have a habit of picking up strays on your job sites.

  “No, just damsels in distress.”

  “Where are the other two?”

  “The other two didn’t make it.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  He stood and moved toward the door. “I’m going to take a shower and hit the rack. If you need anything, just ask. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight Aaron, and thanks again… for everything.”

  The heat of the shower relaxed him and as the water rained down, he thought about what she’d said. He didn’t believe for an instant this was a common mugging…and he wanted to know the truth.

  He walked to the kitchen, still wrapped in a towel, and pulled the bottle of rum from the freezer. He stared at the bottle for a long moment before dropping some ice into a glass and pouring it full.

  He thought about his guest in the next room and wondered how to get her to trust him. Everything she’d told him pointed to a simple mugging. Everything except where he found her, on the 31st floor. He assumed if she were the victim of a street crime, she would have been left on the street, not inside the building. The Boston Tower had a state-of-the-art security system and no common thug would dare try anything there. He thought the surveillance tapes might shed some light on what happened to her. He decided to have the guards pull the tapes and hold them until he got there. Finishing his drink, he crawled into bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

  He arose at his normal six a.m. the next morning and started the coff
ee. He waited until seven before phoning Diane. “Hi, Di. I just wanted to tell you, I won’t be in today. I’m not feeling too good.”

  “Are you all right, do you need anything?” his assistant asked.

  “No, just going to stay in bed for today.”

  He could almost feel her protective instincts peak, but he fended off her well-meaning barrage of questions and hung up the phone.

  While Jenny slept, he went to the corner diner and ordered breakfast for the two of them. When he returned half an hour later, he found her in the kitchen sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar gingerly sipping a cup of coffee.

  “Good morning. How are you feeling?” he asked, surprised and pleased to see her up and around.

  “Not too bad, for someone who’s been pulled through a knot-hole.” she said, wincing and touching a cold compress to her swollen lip between sips.

  He had to smile at the bad joke. “That good? Really? I’ll ask again if you want to see a doctor.”

  “No. I’m sore in places I didn’t know I had, but other than that I’m all right. By the way, thanks for making the coffee this morning. I can’t function without caffeine.”

  He poured a mug for himself and sat next to her. “Me either.”

  They sipped for several long moments in awkward silence, “I hate to bring this up,” he said. “But don’t you think we should call the police?”

  She answered him in measured tones. “Please, no police. I don’t want any trouble.”

  Frustration caused his voice to waver slightly. “What do you mean, you don’t want any trouble? Jenny, you were the victim of an assault. Somebody nearly killed you. Don’t you want the police to find the man who did this to you?”

  He was really confused now, first she wouldn’t go to a doctor and now she resisted calling the police. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she was hiding something.

  He continued in a more firm tone, “All right, tell me what’s really going on here.”

  She paused for a second then sipped her coffee again before answering. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

  Her tone and demeanor confirmed his suspicions.

  This was no random act of violence.

  He tried again. “Look, I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s going on.”