“No!” Summer’s hand caught his. “It’s okay. I handled it. He made a grab and basically came up empty—just managed a corner of my hem. He won’t try it again.”
“He’d better not!”
“Jack, it’s okay. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Now, can I get two beers?”
Pulling the beers with a ferocity that sent a waterfall of foam splashing over each, Jack plunked them on her tray.
He was responsible for her, he told himself—that was all. Any man would feel the same. But his eyes never left her as Summer walked toward the customers.
Jack continued watching. When one patron slipped an arm around her waist, Jack remained behind the bar with an effort. “Hey, buddy,” he hollered, gesturing toward the man’s arm.
The man glanced at Summer then at Jack. “You got a problem?”
“Yeah. The waitress is for decoration only. Hands off.”
Summer stared at Jack while the man withdrew his arm, then held up both hands in mock surrender.
“I don’t want any trouble,” the man said, heading toward the pool table.
“Good,” Jack responded, turning back to the glass rack.
Summer stalked over to the bar. “Good?” she chided. “I thought we were supposed to be staying low-key. That definitely didn’t sound low-key.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about our cover?”
“I don’t think so,” she responded evenly. “My neck’s on the line, too. And I don’t need you chopping it off by suddenly deciding to act like the Terminator.”
Jack quirked his brow. “You see the resemblance between Arnold and me?”
Summer rolled her eyes. “All I see is far too much testosterone.”
She turned on her heel and marched away. Yet he continued watching. For a while, things seemed calm. Then one of the more boisterous tables grew louder. And Summer seemed to be the center of interest.
Calling on his patience, Jack told himself that Summer was right. She was a big girl, capable of handling a few rowdies. And it was perfectly normal that the men were showing an interest.
There was a sudden loud round of hoots. Craning to see, Jack noted that the men’s smiles seemed too appreciative. And then he heard a whistle that couldn’t be misinterpreted. Flipping up the wooden hinged portion of the bar, Jack stomped over to the table Summer was serving.
“Everybody got something to drink?” he shouted over the noise the customers were making. Jack continued smiling as he got an assortment of nods and grunts of agreement.
“Good. ’Cause I want to propose a toast—to your waitress—”
Glasses and bottles were collectively raised.
“—who just happens to be my wife.”
As Summer’s jaw dropped, the men exchanged knowing looks.
Jack had just placed a huge hands-off sign on Summer that could be read ten miles away.
“This round’s on me,” Jack concluded, his gaze firmly locked on Summer.
She all but gaped as he returned to the bar.
“You could have told us the bruiser was your husband,” a small, birdlike man complained. “I don’t need to have my head bashed in.”
“But he wouldn’t—”
The other men guffawed, and one replied, “Sweetheart, your man just staked a real loud claim.” His eyes roamed over her and he sighed in regret. “Can’t say as I blame him.”
The phone rang loudly. Jack turned to answer it. Again
Bart was already there. When he noticed Jack watching, he turned around so that all Jack could see was his back. And in only moments, he replaced the receiver.
When Bart turned back toward the bar and saw Jack still looking at him, he made a dismissive face. “Wrong number.”
“Right,” Jack replied. So why the furtive move to cover what he was saying?
Feeling an instinctive frisson of suspicion, Jack paused. Was he reacting to Bart, or to the way Summer had just been treated? Clearly he needed to pay more attention to his surroundings than to her. Still torn, he alternated between watching Summer and Bart. Neither practice pleased him.
One of the patrons warming a bar stool tried to strike up a conversation when Jack put his whiskey in front of him.
“So, she’s your wife?”
Jack’s gaze didn’t move toward Summer. It wasn’t necessary. He knew exactly whom the man meant “Yep.”
The man cackled. “Now we all know, too.”
Jack kept his voice even. “That was the idea.”
“If she was my woman, I’d keep her locked up at home.”
“Lucky for her she’s not.”
The man started to laugh, caught Jack’s meaning and scowled.
Jack walked away, yet his eyes traveled across the room toward Summer. The way the men fell all over her, a person would have thought a supermodel was among them. Instead it was Summer, the woman pretending to be his wife. The woman who’d shared his kiss, not to mention his escape.
The phone rang just then, jarring his thoughts. Turning quickly, Jack picked up the phone before Bart could.
“Rusty Anchor,” he barked.
A distinctive click sounded in his ear. It probably wasn’t anything, yet Jack cataloged the bit of information, storing it in his mind for future comparison. Slowly he hung up the phone. “Probably a kid,” he muttered.
“What?”
Jack hadn’t noticed Summer’s approach. He shook his head. “Nothing. Just seeing shadows dancing on my grave.”
She shuddered. “What a horrible thought!” Concern flashed across her face. “Has something happened?”
“Yeah, I’ve irked at least half a dozen of Bart’s customers, and I just destroyed any chance of getting a tip.”
“Very funny,” she responded. “You just scared two, three decades off my life.”
“Not intentionally. I’ve just had a touch of paranoia, but hopefully it’s not a terminal case.”
“If that’s supposed to be amusing, you’re missing the mark,” Summer retorted.
She started to turn away, but Jack captured her hand. “Bad joke. But laughing beats crying in your beer.”
Her eyes softened and he read the instant understanding there. How had that happened? he wondered. How had she come to know this side of him so well?
“You told me a certain amount of paranoia is healthy,” Summer reminded him.
“Then I should be the American Psychiatric Association’s poster kid,” he replied, hesitating before releasing her hand. “But let me worry, okay? It shouldn’t be your concern. Besides, it’s a one-person job.”
Jack wondered at the sudden flash in her eyes. If he didn’t know better, he would think it was hurt he had seen there.
“Summer!” one of the customers called out.
He tried to ignore the proprietary feeling that came over him. “And the job you’ve got is keeping you plenty busy.”
Momentarily distracted, she glanced back at the patron who’d called her. Then she turned back to Jack, forcing a smile. “That’s a lucky break, isn’t it? Staying busy will prevent another one of those nasty lapses. I wouldn’t want to be worried about something that’s clearly not my concern.”
Dead tired, Summer counted out the last of the evening’s receipts, then dropped them in the register. Jack had already balanced his till. All she wanted was a hot bath, two new feet and a place to hide.
Somehow the tiny room she shared with Jack hardly seemed like a retreat. Delaying the inevitable, Summer lagged behind until she ran out of excuses. Finally she made her way to the room.
Turning the doorknob softly, she hoped that Jack was already asleep. But she saw that he sat in the tiny window seat at the rear of the room.
Although the sound was faint, she could hear him talking quietly. The low light from the lamp allowed her to see that he cradled Danny in his arms.
“And that’s the North Star,” Jack said softly. “It’ll guide you wherever you go. Someday we’ll travel by that star. We won’t be running awa
y—we’ll be going to places you haven’t begun dreaming of yet.”
Summer’s throat closed as she heard his words.
“You don’t know it yet, but there’ll be lots of dreams for you. And a big world for you to explore. But you’re going to have to make that world a better place, so no one has to run anymore.”
She felt the mist gather in her eyes as she closed them. But she couldn’t close everything. Her heart thrummed as it absorbed this man.
“Sounds like a pretty big job for such a little guy, but you won’t be small for long. Just make sure your heart grows as tall as you do.”
The hitch in her own heart was now painful.
Jack leaned closer to his son. “You have to know what’s right.” His voice tightened. “And go after it, no matter what. And you have to believe that whatever the cost of doing the right thing, it’s worth it.”
Like the cost he had paid, she acknowledged silently. Giving up everything in his life to follow what was right.
Jack’s lulling voice carried to her as clearly as though she were in his arms, rather than little Danny. “I’m going to be watching out for you as long as I can.” He paused. “Unless it means losing you. And whether I’m around or not, you’ve got to always believe in yourself.”
The chill that went through her had nothing to do with the cool night air. Did Jack really believe that he wouldn’t make it? That he would have to give up his life to protect Danny?
She remembered Jack’s joking comments about paranoia. Perhaps they hadn’t been jokes. She thought of the concern in his expression, his unusual edginess. Did he suspect a new danger that he hadn’t told her about? His instincts had cautioned him to keep the boat stocked, which told her they were pretty good instincts. Was that same sixth sense telling him something now?
Again she shivered, not certain which frightened her more—spending another night in the same bed with him...or contemplating that it could be their last.
Summer was too quiet, Jack noted the next day. She had been all evening, just as she had been all afternoon. Something about her had been different since she’d returned to their room last night after work.
At first he thought perhaps she was growing tired of the pretense and possibly Danny, since he, too, was in the room. But she’d spent much of today holding Danny even though Jack had tried to convince her it wasn’t necessary. She had even been reluctant to leave the baby in Rita’s care when their shift had begun.
It was as though Summer were clinging to something, which didn’t fit any part of her character that he was growing to know.
The phone rang and Bart grabbed it again. But this time as soon as he took the call, he disappeared. Jack felt a prickle. Was it instinct or paranoia? He wondered suddenly if there was a bounty on his head. He’d always suspected that Bart had a shady past, but were the man’s shortcomings such that he would sell him out? Uneasily, Jack guessed they might be.
A large drink order came in, distracting him. When Jack finished pouring the drinks, he looked around casually while wiping down the bar and restocking the glass rack. He couldn’t locate Bart. But he kept Summer in his sights. If something was wrong, he didn’t want her to be far away if they had to cut and run.
Summer approached the bar, her mood still hard to discern.
“Pretty good size order,” he commented.
She nodded without replying.
He reached over to grab some tonic water and noticed that she was staring at him. When he glanced up, she deliberately looked away.
“Something wrong?” he asked as Summer reached toward the tray.
She jerked her head up at the question, and her hand knocked over one of the glasses. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s just a drink. I didn’t mean to rattle you.”
“You didn’t,” she protested.
“Well, something did.”
Summer swabbed at the pooling liquid with a wad of cocktail napkins. “It’s just I get the feeling you’re having one of those sixth-sense things.”
Puzzled, he drew his brows together.
“You know,” she continued. “The remarks about your paranoia. It seems like you’re feeling things aren’t safe.”
“Hey. I told you not to worry. Since I joined the program, I seem to see things that aren’t there.”
But she didn’t look comforted. “I want to know if it’s more than that.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be the first to hear.”
She searched his face, and he finally saw a trickle of relief in her expression. “I guess I could be seeing things that aren’t there, too,” Summer admitted. “Maybe I should leave it to you. You know what to look for.”
Jack nodded and smiled for her benefit. The hell he did. This wasn’t a game with set rules or players. The most obvious thing could be nothing, but if ignored, it could be the most significant. And he was playing blind.
Fisher and Wilcox could have hired an advance scout, someone he wouldn’t recognize. Someone he could have just served a drink to.
A few hours passed uneventfully. Jack continued watching Summer. Even though she had seemed reassured, she still looked pensive. And Jack couldn’t fight his own premonitions. He had a bad feeling, one he couldn’t put his finger on.
Looking up from the drink order he was preparing, Jack saw Bart return to lean casually against the wall near the outer door. When Jack glanced his way, he could have sworn Bart was watching him before he slid his gaze away. Another prickle of sensation darted through him. Jack turned away for a moment and then turned back. And met Bart’s watchful scrutiny.
Once again, Bart’s eyes slid away.
And this time, Jack knew it wasn’t his imagination.
A shiver raced up his spine and settled in his neck. And his body flashed from the freeze of that chill to the instant heat of adrenaline. Adrenaline that had kicked in as soon as Jack scented danger.
Carefully Jack looked around, again checking out exits, quickly taking a mental inventory of what was necessary for their escape. His thoughts clicked in rapid succession as he tried to form the safest plan.
Summer walked up with a drink order. He hoped his Jekyll and Hyde behavior wouldn’t frighten her since he’d just assured her they were safe. “Summer...”
“Yes?” she answered absently, digging in her pocket for a pencil.
“Keep acting normal. Don’t behave as though we’re talking about anything important.”
To her credit, she only blanched for a moment, then managed to smile. “Are we?”
“You were right. I have been sensing something. I still don’t know if it’s anything concrete, but I don’t want to stick around and find out.”
Her hand shook only slightly as she reached over to put some napkins on the tray. “So what do we do?”
“You get sick.”
“Excuse me?”
“Tell Bart you’re sick and need to lie down for a little while. Then grab the essentials and stick them in the car.”
Although she controlled her expression, Jack could see the panic in her eyes. “What about Danny?”
“In a few minutes, I’ll tell Bart I’m going to check on you. I’ll wait ten minutes after that. Then we take Danny and go.”
“Should I get him now?” she asked, her voice quavering a bit.
He hesitated. “I don’t want to tip off Bart. If Rita comes in before I’m out of here, Bart will know you’ve got Danny and suspect something.”
“Okay.” Summer firmed her lips. “Do I look like I could be sick?”
She was convincingly pale beneath her tan. Jack nodded. “Be vague and don’t overdo it. Tell him you think you’ll be better if you can lie down for a little while.”
“No malaria?” She tried to joke, but the concern in her voice was evident.
“Right.” He laid one hand over hers. “Just keep your head and we’ll get out of here.”
Deliberately Jack turned away so he couldn’t see Summer speak to Bart. He w
as afraid of revealing more than a poker face himself. But in a few quick minutes, Summer left the bar.
Jack watched the clock tick by with agonizing slowness. When five minutes had passed, he approached Bart, hoping he could sound convincingly casual. “Where’d Summer go?”
“Said she was sick. Went to lie down.”
“Sick?” Jack frowned. “What was wrong with her?”
Bart shrugged. “I don’t know. Just said she wouldn’t be long.”
“She thought that fish today tasted a little off. I’d better go check on her in a few minutes. I’ll catch up the bar, then can you cover?”
Bart looked annoyed... and something else. Although Jack couldn’t put his finger on it, he again sensed something was wrong.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Jack casually glanced at the clock. When ten minutes had passed, he gave Bart the high sign and forced himself not to hurry from the room. Once out of sight, he loped down the hallway. Summer whirled around when he ripped open the door.
“Oh!” She released a whooshing breath. “Thank God it’s you! I’ve got everything else in the car.” She held up one small bag. “This is all that’s left.”
“Okay. Let’s go and get Danny.”
“What’ll we tell Rita?” she asked, hurrying beside him.
“That there’s an emergency and we have to leave.”
“What kind of emergency?”
“We don’t elaborate. We tell her we don’t have time to give details. Then Bart might think it’s medical, although if I’m right it won’t matter.” Jack met her gaze. “She won’t question it. The important thing is we get Danny and don’t waste any time. Our lives could depend on it.”
Chapter 7
“We need to get Summer to a doctor.” Shooting Rita a disarming smile, Jack tossed the diaper bag in the back seat rather than opening the trunk, which held all of their luggage.
“But wouldn’t you rather have me take care of Danny for you?” the older woman asked, longing coloring her voice.
Jack took her hand. “We couldn’t ask for anyone to take better care of Danny, but we’re not sure how long we’ll be.”
Rita frowned. “I’m sure Bart loved that.”
The Hijacked Wife Page 9
