by Justine Davis, Amy J. Fetzer, Katherine Garbera, Meredith Fletcher, Catherine Mann
He readily accepted, groaning as he sipped.
“Tough night gathering the bad guys?” She sipped her own.
“Paperwork.” He glanced around the kitchen. “What’s all this?” He motioned to the bucket on the kitchen table, then peered into it. “Plaster?”
“I’m making faces, masks.” Her kitchen looked like a lab and she wondered at the wisdom of having him here right now.
“Mind if I hang around and watch?”
She hesitated for a second. “No, of course not. Actually I’d love a little help keeping an eye on Charlie since I’m alone.”
“No problem. Where is he?”
“Living room. Cartoons and grape juice.”
Jack set his cup down and gave her a look that said, can I see him? She smiled and nodded, following Jack into the room.
They found Charlie in his pj’s, tucked in a corner of the sofa like a bunny burrowed in for the winter. His face was smeared with jelly, a half-eaten piece of toast in his hand. Darcy didn’t think Jack would get a rise out of her son, he wasn’t interested in anything but the cartoons. She was wrong.
“Hey, pal.”
Charlie looked up, grinning widely. “Jack!” He shot off the couch and plowed into Jack’s knees.
Jack lifted him and her son looked so tiny in his arms. “So what’s with this?” He pointed to his chest, and when Charlie looked down, Jack nudged his nose up.
Charlie giggled and something inside her fell a little harder for Jack. He was so good to Charlie.
“You wanna watch Transformers with me?”
“Maybe later, I’m going to help your mom for a bit. If that’s okay.”
Her son looked disappointed for a second till the cartoon came back on. Jack set him down, then followed Darcy back to the kitchen.
She added more plaster powder to the water, stirring.
“So explain this.”
“I’ve got to make a fresh cast of my face in relief before I can build a mask. My old form is getting mushy.” She gestured to the plaster head and shoulders sitting on a stand that secured it to the edge of the table.
“I make a relief of my own face, then make a cast from that and put it on the head form. It’s hard and solid. Then with soft latex and foam, I build a new face on top of that. That way it fits over mine without any wrinkles or gaps.”
“Can you put that stuff on anyone?” From a plastic box, he picked up a fake nose, a chin and half a lip.
“Yeah, in a crunch, but you have to fill in the space between the skin and the latex with a fast-drying foam and it leaves it hard, so the facial features don’t move with the wearer. It has to be thin where it contacts with the major muscles of the face, so it moves with expressions. If it doesn’t fit, it sort of defeats the purpose. Too noticeable.”
He took up his coffee, his gaze moving over her equipment. “I’ve seen you in these masks a lot, but you never said where you learned all this.”
She stopped stirring for a second, then continued. “I wanted to work on movies and took a course.”
It was a bald-faced lie, Darcy thought, but she couldn’t say more. Nor could she look at Jack and say it. It was hard to lie to him, even if it was to protect herself and Charlie.
“Over the years, I’ve just gotten better at it, studied, tried different approaches.” The truth was Darcy had worked on movies for a few years before she married Maurice, then a couple after. She’d studied acting in college, and had gotten a couple of good minor roles in films, but she preferred the hair, makeup, and mostly, special-effects facial mechanics.
“Is this human hair?”
She glanced up, struggling with the mix as the plaster thickened. He held a sample from her selection of bound locks of hair. “Yeah, I have to put each hair in individually to make the hairline look authentic. Then put on a wig and blend the hair so there’s no line.”
Jack sipped his coffee, picking up the facial mask she’d used the other night, then riffling through the box of wigs and hairpieces. Darcy even had stuff to make her look like a man.
“You really think all this will protect you?”
“It has so far.” He was more interested in watching her than the process, she thought.
“I think that roundhouse kick and your wicked knife do more.”
“I do this to avoid being recognized. No one can trace me.”
“Stopping altogether would help.”
“You walk into danger every time you hunt a bounty, so just because I’m a woman—”
“A woman with a child to think about.”
Darcy groaned, stirring. “Leave it alone, Jack.”
“I just don’t want to see anything happen to you, Piper.”
“Why?”
He pulled out a chair and sat, sipping his coffee. “If I have to say, then you’re not as smart as I thought.”
She met his gaze and wondered why she always felt stripped naked when he was near. “Must you stare?”
“You’re an exceptionally pretty woman, why shouldn’t I stare?”
She gave him a dry look. “It’s confirmed, your taste is all in your mouth. I look like a drowned rat.” She fluffed her hair and Jack leaned over the table.
“Why is it so hard for you to take a compliment?”
She met his gaze head on. “I haven’t had many.”
His eyebrows shot up and those intense eyes roamed her body from feet to hair. “Maybe they didn’t have the guts to say.”
“Why would you think that?”
“It could be the barrier around you that’s better than a castle wall.”
She looked him over, liking what she saw too much. “A girl has to protect herself from those unseemly types.”
“Ouch.”
She motioned him close and he set aside the coffee and came to her. “Here’s where you come in. I’d take off your jacket if I were you.”
He stripped out of the bomber jacket and hung it on a peg by the back-porch door with his hat. His T-shirt stretched tight across those massive shoulders and bulging muscles and Darcy almost lost her train of thought just looking at him.
He arched an eyebrow, the look saying he caught her staring. Hurriedly, she slipped on a headband that pulled her hair back off her face, then wrapped her hair in a turban.
“Unattractive, I know.” She sat in the kitchen chair. “I’m going to apply the first layer, but when I get to the places around my nose and mouth and ears, can you do the rest?”
“Sure. Just tell me how.”
She explained that there couldn’t be any air pockets and to tap the plaster lightly to get them out. “And I won’t be ignoring you if you talk—I can’t answer, lip movement destroys the details.”
She scooped up a blob of the plaster and started smearing it over her hairline, her jaw, throat and then down onto her chest.
“That far?” he said.
That was why she wore the strapless top. When she’d covered nearly all of her face, she inserted two straws into her nose so she could breathe, then motioned for him to add more. Jack rolled up his sleeves and spread plaster.
She had a notepad on her lap and a pencil to scribble advice. She felt his touch, the gentleness of it belying his big hands as he made sure the plaster was in and around her ears, and then down on her throat and lower.
Don’t get fresh, she wrote when his hand smoothed over the swells of her breasts. Her nipples tightened and her mind went into fantasyland when he kept smoothing the cool plaster slowly.
“I’m just doing what you want, Piper.”
Not quite, she thought, and reached to inspect the thickness and texture, making certain she was completely covered.
“How long do we wait?” he asked.
She scribbled, Till it dries, dingy. 20 mins. The fan set up close by hastened the process. Then she wrote again, Eye on Charlie, likes to jump on the couch. She heard Jack’s soft chuckle and barely made out his footsteps as he walked away.
Darcy tried to relax and be
still, yet her mind was running at full speed. She didn’t like that she couldn’t see Jack or what he was doing. But she could feel him when he came close. When the mold was done, she tapped the table and he was there to help her lift it off.
“I hate that part, makes me feel like I’m buried alive.”
She stood and placed the relief in a frame padded with cotton, then excused herself to wash up and change into a T-shirt. When she came back Jack was exactly where she’d left him.
“Charlie? You want some eggs or cereal?” she said as she tipped the relief so it was level and started building barriers around it with thin sheets of metal and pins.
“Toaster tarts!” he called back and Jack chuckled.
“Oh, I so don’t think so.” Bending, she inserted metal frame pins to hold the irregular shape in place.
“Mom,” he whined.
“Pick one, kiddo.”
“Eggs,” Charlie said, sulking as she started mixing chemicals and plaster.
“You look like a mad scientist with all that,” Jack said.
“This will make the face form mine, in relief. It’s plaster, but it has a liquid plastic hardener that will make it come out of the mold and stay hard. Then I’ll just take the old head form, cut the face off, and apply a fresh one.”
“Yes, Dr. Mengela.”
Her chuckle was sinister as she slowly blended the plaster with a kitchen hand mixer. “Then I mix up the polymer clay and with some foam, start building the face.”
“Should I be concerned that you’ll develop dual personalities?” he asked, lifting a full mask of a man’s face.
She smiled. “No, I like being a woman. I put that on the women I help, Jack, so the trail vanishes and nothing can be traced back to here, and Charlie.”
“But this underground railroad you’re part of—”
“Don’t mention the illegalities, please.” He harped on that a lot.
“You said it, not me. What if something happens while you’re moving through it? It’s so secret even the cops can’t find the trail.”
“Why would they want to? Safe house means in secret. A lawyer and a cop come to the women and take pictures and statements at a different location. It’s a requirement to remain at the safe house that they file formal charges and appear in court if they have to.”
“They’d like to have authority over it. Make sure nothing gets thrown out of court on a technicality.”
“Hasn’t yet.”
Jack moved to the stove, pulling out a small frying pan. “Man, you are so stubborn.”
“Look who’s talking.” Darcy looked over her shoulder, her expression questioning.
“Charlie’s eggs.”
“Thanks. Scrambled.”
“Oh good, the only kind I can do.”
“Make some for yourself if you want.”
Darcy felt weird. He’d been here before, just not for long and certainly not cooking in her kitchen. She didn’t want to think about how comfortable it felt to have him here. When he was done, he cleaned up and took the plate to Charlie, and since the kitchen table was occupied with her latex, he had Charles sit at the coffee table. Then he plopped down beside her son and joined him.
Darcy’s heart did a little leap at the way he looked at her son. Charlie’s own father hadn’t even held him when he was born. Maurice demanded she abort and when she refused, he threw her down the stairs, hoping she’d lose the baby. Pushing her kept his hands clean. An accident, he’d say. The memory blasted through her and she flinched, feeling each bang of the steps. Curling her body into a ball to protect her baby, the cool tile floor beneath her cheek.
“Piper?”
She blinked. Jack was standing close, holding the empty plates. How long had she fazed out?
“You all right?”
Tears burned her eyes and she quickly looked away. “Yeah, fine. Got powder in my eyes, I think.”
Jack didn’t believe her, she could tell, yet he soaked a towel for her. “Let me see.”
“It’s fine now.”
“Let me see,” he insisted and tipped her face up, then blotted the wet cloth over her eyes. There was nothing there, but he pretended there was. He eased the cloth from her eyes and she opened them. Her vision filled with him.
“Okay?”
Darcy breathed him in, his strength, his scent. His face was so close, his mouth inviting. His gaze raked her face, as if searching for answers she knew he wanted. But he didn’t say anything.
Then his head dipped, his mouth a breath from hers.
“Don’t, Jack.” Yet she didn’t back away.
“Don’t what?”
“Oh, I know you’re not stupid and neither am I. Don’t take this friendship there.”
“Are we friends, Piper? I figured I was just the hired muscle.”
“Yeah, that, too.” She eased away from him. Instantly she felt more alone.
“Friends trust each other.”
“I trust you with my life, Jack.”
His look went sour. “You give that to cops and firefighters.”
“What do you want from me?”
“To know you.”
“You do.”
“No, I don’t.” He gestured to the array of chemicals and powders, makeup and fake hair spread across her kitchen. “I’m wondering if anyone does.”
Darcy didn’t say anything. Because it was true. No one really knew who she was, least of all her. Jack stepped away, reaching for his jacket and hat. Darcy cleaned off her hands and walked him to the door.
He had his hand on the knob when he said, “By the way, I saw Charlie on TV last week.”
And the bottom of her world fell out.
Chapter 5
“And you, too.”
Darcy froze. “You must be mistaken.”
“I know it was you, because you don’t let anyone near your son except Meg. But it was Charlie I recognized.”
Darcy felt instant and overpowering panic. Her knees went soft and she struggled for calm.
“That’s not possible, Jack.”
“It was a sound bite about a woman who was killed in a car crash. A lawyer.” He frowned slightly, thinking. “She went to that women’s school, the one that trains girls for spy work…Athena Academy, then Harvard.”
“You couldn’t have seen him.”
Jack moved closer, hemming her in, his cool stare leaving no doubt of what he saw. “I did, Piper. It was Charlie, and you were at that funeral.”
Cornered, she let out a long breath and muttered, “Yes, I was.”
“You went to Athena Academy?”
“Me? No, no I didn’t. I knew Lorraine Carrington from college.”
His gaze thinned. “She went to Harvard.”
“Only for law school.” Another lie, she thought, a thousand problems shooting through her mind.
Jack was scowling now. “You can’t even give me a straight answer, can you? Why can’t you trust me?”
“I don’t trust anyone,” she snapped and stepped back. “And butt out of my private life, Jack. Or I’ll start prying into yours and you can tell me how you got that bullet hole in your shoulder.”
His expression shuttered, he moved to open the door. “Fine. But I want you to know I’m here to help you if you need it.”
“With what? I don’t need it.”
“Yeah, sure. When you’re ready to tell me why you constantly look over your shoulder, why you’re terrified right now, we’ll talk again.”
“No, we won’t.”
Jack cast her a dark glance that made her shiver. Not talking wasn’t up for debate in his eyes and Darcy wondered how long she could avoid it. He left and she shut the door after him, sinking against the wall.
Oh damn. Damn.
What were the chances of anyone else recognizing her and making a connection?
Darcy headed back into the kitchen, her hands shaking. She’d covered her tracks, she knew she had.
Pay cash, use disguises, don’t mak
e conversation with strangers for long. Check everyone out. The last thought reminded her that she hadn’t done that with Jack. All she knew of him was what she’d learned since the moment they’d collided on a rescue till now. And now he knew she’d been at Rainy’s funeral. She hadn’t worn a mask when she’d gone to Arizona, because she’d been among friends, not rescuing a woman from a dangerous attacker.
This pushed her plan to go to L.A. next week to sooner than she wanted. She had to work fast in case Maurice had seen the broadcast and found a way to track her from Arizona to here.
If he did, she was history.
One week later
Hollywood
Dressed in a berry-colored designer skirt and top she’d bought at a secondhand store on Rodeo Drive, Darcy sat under the covered porch of a bistro, sipping her soda and watching the people stroll by.
She recognized several: a couple of agents, one action-adventure actor who shouldn’t be wearing leather pants anymore. She remembered making him look as if he’d been burned for his third film. She brought the glass to her lips, liking that men were noticing her, but then she wore another’s face. A little closer to Julia Roberts today.
This morning she’d been a bag lady pushing a shopping cart outside Maurice’s offices. She’d gone there to watch his daily routine, and fortunately, it hadn’t changed. She was almost nabbed when the cops showed up, but instead of hauling her in for vagrancy, they’d escorted her to a women’s shelter. If she wasn’t so terrified that Maurice would spot her, she’d be amused that she could slip around the city within thirty yards of the man. She’d no intention of getting any closer.
From her position, Maurice’s chauffeur wasn’t hard to spot. He wore a gray uniform while all the others lined up on the street in the hills wore black. He was the same man who’d worked for her husband when they’d married.
Oh goody. She paid her bill and stood. She’d used everything at her disposal to do what she needed, and right now she had it all displayed in a slim hip skirt with a matching top, cut low and fitted to accent her waistline. Time to put the ball into play, she thought, walking toward the limo, aware that Maurice was inside a restaurant just up the street.
