Fear Familiar Bundle

by Caroline Burnes

  "You aren't in a position to negotiate," James observed.

  His enjoyment was too much. It was one thing to tease, but he was getting far too much satisfaction over her predicament. She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. "You think this is funny, don't you, you sick, demented word hustler. This is just a chance for you to flex your power. Neanderthal! Cretin! Low-life blood-sucking— "

  "Jennifer!" Eugene was laughing. "Wherever did you learn such colorful descriptive words. I do believe you should be writing a book."

  "I'm going to tear his heart out and eat it with a spoon!"

  "That one you stole from a movie," James said calmly. "Robin Hood, the Sheriff of Nottingham."

  "Then I'll carve your liver with a fish scaler!"

  James couldn't help himself, but just to be on the safe side, he firmly grasped her wrists before he answered. "That sounds very original. Except fish scalers aren't very sharp."

  "I know." Jennifer tried to tug free but couldn't break his grip.

  "Calm down now. I just wanted to be sure you weren't sick. You were so biddable, so tractable, so ladylike when I first came in, I was afraid you might be terminal."

  "I'll show you ladylike!" Jennifer tugged harder. "I'm worried sick, and your idea of help is to taunt me. Especially when I'm trying to keep my temper under control." She jerked so hard her hair shimmered in a curtain of mahogany lights.

  "Eugene?" James looked to the writer for help. "If I let her go, she might kill me."

  "Do whatever you think is necessary." Eugene gave a courtly bow to them both. "I shall retire to the garden to finish a scene. Please don't yell. It upsets the cats terribly when humans act savagely. Other than that, have a go at it. Do whatever is necessary, James."

  "Eugene!" Jennifer tried to break free. "Don't leave me with this devil."

  With a wave over his shoulder, Eugene went into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. In the silence that followed, Jennifer clearly heard the back door slam.

  "Now you're mine, to do with as I choose." James's grin was wicked.

  "Familiar!" Jennifer made an appeal to the black cat.

  Familiar stood, stretched, and then curled into a ball on the wing chair with his back to Jennifer.

  "I think he's telling you that this is a lesson you've been needing for a long time."

  Jennifer ceased struggling. Her heart was pounding and every inch of skin was wickedly alive. Holding her with his gaze, he drew her hands slowly toward his chest, forcing her to lean toward him.

  "What shall I do with you," he asked rhetorically. "Such a spitfire. And one that specializes in destruction of vital organs."

  "James." She swallowed again as she saw his gaze linger on the pulse at her neck. She could almost feel his lips, and the idea made her want to run from him and surrender in his arms at the same time. Once he started, it would no longer be a game. "You know I talk with…some exaggeration."

  "Indeed?" He lifted that single eyebrow and grinned. "I've noticed that you're very bold, on verbal assault."

  "Then you also know that I don't really mean all of those things that I say." She could feel the heat of his body through his slacks where her arms rested on his thighs.

  "I'm not so certain." He drew her another inch closer.

  "I wouldn't really hurt you." She felt the whisper of his breath against her neck where he'd leaned toward her. The first brush of his lips made her want to moan, but she held it in her throat.

  Very gently, he released her wrists and placed his hands on her shoulders, offering support rather than restraint. "There are many things I want to do with you, but injury certainly isn't one of them," he whispered, the words like soft kisses on the heated skin below her ear.

  He lifted her face up with one hand, eyes asking her permission, and leaned down to kiss her.

  Jennifer met the kiss with soft, willing lips. She'd dreamed about the kiss they'd shared outside the Calypso, wondering if her memory could possibly be accurate. As she yielded to his exploration, she knew it had been no fantasy. Her hands lifted to his chest, feeling the drumming of his heart and knowing that it matched the pulse of her own blood.

  Strong arms lifted her into his lap and tilted her back, exposing her throat and the excitable places along her neck. His lips, warm and hungry, moved to her ears, and her right hand tightened in his straight black hair.

  "You're so soft," he whispered, and was rewarded with a delicate shiver.

  Using his shoulder as a brace, Jennifer lifted herself to return the attention. The collar of his shirt was crisp against her lips and her searching fingers found the buttons. Undoing two, she slipped her hand inside, pushing back the material so her fingers had free reign. The musky scent of after-shave lingered on his bronzed skin and she kissed a trail to his ear.

  Exploring the contours of his body, she drew a moan of excitement from him. "Ah," she whispered, making him groan again. Her hand played inside his shirt, searching the taut muscles of his upper chest, the skin sleek and smooth, finding the hard nubs of his nipples, tense with desire.

  James captured her hand and held it still with his own. With a slight shift, he tilted her back and resumed his soft kisses as he nuzzled her dark, clean hair. "You smell like rain," he said. "It's wonderful."

  A heavy wanting made her languid, and she savored the slow path of his lips, moving back to her mouth where he claimed her with sudden passion and need.

  Reluctantly he lifted his lips and stared at her. "Somehow, I don't think this is exactly the cure for your tart tongue."

  "Oh, I think I may need a lot of this medicine," she said, her blue eyes brimming with desire and amusement. "Stop now and I'll cut out your gizzard and cook it with rice."

  His kiss was so hungry that Jennifer's heart lurched. Her arms wound around him, holding him tight as his hands moved up her back, touching, teasing, tantalizing, until one circled her breast, feeling the full softness.

  She opened her eyes to look at James and caught the green gaze of Familiar staring at her from the back of the sofa. The cat was perched, his whiskers puckered in disapproval. His tail twitched three times in a rapid, whipping motion.

  This time Jennifer broke the kiss, her breathing ragged. "What are we going to do?"

  He looked around the room and eased her up slightly. "Nothing more, at least not here." His eyes were no longer inscrutable, and passion blazed in them. He lifted a hand to touch her lips. "So sweet," he said, "to produce such dire threats."

  Her own fingers traced his jaw, aware of the softness of his skin. He was a handsome man, a man of intelligence and integrity. A man she wanted. "If I'm not in jail tonight, let me make dinner for you. I promise, I can cook."

  "The menu is not really my biggest concern." His gaze slipped to her breast where the first button of her jacket had come undone, revealing the tiniest edge of peach-colored lace. He bent swiftly and kissed it. "Dinner tonight," he said, finally looking into her eyes. "I'll bring the wine."

  She nodded, excitement tickling her throat. "And now?"

  "We have to figure out what to do to keep you from being put in jail. And we have to find the person responsible for taking those children. It's been two days for Mimi. Two days of terror, I'm sure."

  Jennifer eased onto the sofa beside him, buttoning her jacket with quick, sure fingers. "What could ninety-eight possibly mean?" she asked.

  "I don't know." He picked up the manuscript page again and studied it. "But I have to take this to Bixley right away. They may be able to figure this out, and time is crucial."

  "I know." Jennifer ducked her head at the rush of guilt. When he started to rise, she reached out and stopped him. "James, you could get into a lot of trouble if anyone finds out about this. It could be your career."

  He didn't look away, but held her gaze for several seconds. "I know. But I also know that Eugene Legander is innocent of having anything to do with the disappearance of those children. He'll be crucified if you take this in. And I agree, the pol
ice have to have it. They can't conduct an investigation if we withhold evidence. This way, they get the evidence, and Eugene isn't tarred with guilt."

  "But what about you? It could mean your job, your reputation, everything."

  "Let me worry about that." He gave her a wink. "Somehow, I think maybe I've found something that's worth the risk." He picked up his jacket from the arm of the sofa. "I'll see you tonight. At seven."

  "I'll be waiting for you."

  * * *

  "BOY, do the mighty fall hard. Miss Spitfire was going to die before she would consider going out with Clark Kent. Now she's planning a menu and I think it has more to do with which lacy little teddy to wear than what goes good with asparagus. Ah, humans. I guess they have to work hard at this lovemaking business. Long gestation period, normally one offspring at a time. If they didn't work at it, the race might disappear from the face of the earth. Then felines would rule.

  I've given it some thought and if we had a prehensile thumb, humans would never have taken control. There's no solid scientific evidence to prove this, but there's none to disprove it, either, and I'm certain I'm correct.

  Enough philosophizing. It's time to find those children. The day is young, and the weather is beautiful. James also left the door open a crack. Miss Spitfire is lost in her own thoughts and it's time for me to make a break for freedom. I want to check outside the windows to see if there's a trace of our late-night visitor.

  * * *

  "FAMILIAR!" Jennifer made a grab for the black cat as he slithered out the door, but he was quicker than greased lightning. "You'd better come back here or I'm make kitty dumplings out of you and I'll serve them trimmed with your tail!"

  The black cat slipped off the porch and jumped into the big azalea bushes beside the house.

  "Great." Jennifer sighed as she went after him. This was exactly the activity she needed to finish off her silk suit. But Eugene wanted the cat inside. He was afraid the busy roads near his house might be the scene of a disaster for the cat.

  "Familiar!" She made sure the door closed behind her. AnnaLoulou was giving the front porch chase an interested look.

  Jennifer took the long way around the azalea bushes but wound up beside Familiar as he stood over two footprints in the soft dirt. "Now this time I'll be smart enough not to touch anything," Jennifer said, kneeling but taking care not to disturb anything.

  She took off a shoe and held it beside the print. "It's a small person, maybe a woman." That didn't fit in with her theories. "Or maybe a child!" She had a sudden burst of hope. Maybe Mimi and Tommy were playing a practical joke and were spying on Eugene, trying to gauge the best time to come home.

  * * *

  SO FAR Spitfire is right. It's a kid or a woman. Prints aren't deep enough for a man. Well, I guess it could be an eighty-five pound man, but that doesn't seem likely. At least, not one tall enough to see in the window. My guess would be kid. But why?

  I've learned from solving past mysteries that once I can answer the why, I'm close to a solution.

  I hear Eugene tapping away in the garden on his old manual. And I hear the telephone ringing inside. I wonder who's calling. Eugene refuses to have an answering machine, though I'm glad to see Jennifer forced one of those caller identification devices on him. So many calls, so many kooks out there who think writers are public property.

  Let's see if Miss Spitfire can run in a tight skirt and high heels. My, my. She just lifted up the skirt to reveal some mighty fine gams and ran. Oops! She hurdled right up on the porch! My goodness, if she gets tired of publicity work she might consider the Olympic track team. That woman can hustle!

  * * *

  "HELLO?" Jennifer tried to control her breathing.

  "Help me."

  "Hello? Who is this?" Jennifer held her breath. The voice on the other end of the line was so soft, so far away, she thought she heard someone ask for help.

  "Please, help me."

  The words froze her heart. Suddenly everything in the room was too loud, the ticking of the clock, the gentle flutter of the venetian blinds where a breeze from the open front door rippled softly against them, the little girl's voice speaking to her from what sounded like far, far away.

  "Please, I'm afraid. It's dark here."

  "Mimi?"

  "Miss Barkley?" Mimi's voice suddenly grew in strength. "Oh, please help me. Tommy and I are afraid. Make Eugene bring us home. We won't be bad again, I swear."

  "Mimi, where are you?" There was static on the line. "Mimi?" Jennifer yelled the word. The dull hum of a disconnect was her only reply.

  It took three tries for her to hang the telephone up. The receiver slipped from the cradle again and again, and her clumsy finger couldn't seem to make it work correctly. When she turned to close the front door, her feet tangled and she slumped into a chair. She was shocked, and terrified. She was ninety-nine percent certain that the little girl who had called was the missing Mimi Frost. And if the caller was Mimi, she was alive, but terrified, and Tommy Franklin was with her. Mimi also believed that Eugene was her abductor. It was almost too much information to assimilate.

  The black cat's paw, firmly pressed against her knee, brought her back to the moment. Familiar's large golden eyes watched her, then he turned and went to the small device beside the phone. He patted it twice.

  "Caller ID!" Jennifer was across the room in three strides. It had been a terrible battle to force Eugene into having the "nasty little bit of intrusive, modern technology," but Jennifer had prevailed. It had been four months ago, when he'd been getting a series of crank calls late in the night that turned out to be an ex-wife thinking she was calling her ex-husband's new girl. But once installed, the device had remained, and now it contained the digital number that could provide a major lead in finding Mimi and Tommy. If the caller had actually been Mimi. Jennifer had to keep that thought firmly entrenched in her mind. The call could have been a prank— someone intending to torment Eugene.

  Fear that somehow the number would disappear made her grab the pen and pad beside the phone and take down the number: 555-4343. She repeated it several times, memorizing it just in case something happened to the notepad.

  Her fingers itched to call the number back, but sudden fear for Mimi's safety prevented her. If the child had somehow managed to get to a telephone and make the call, Jennifer didn't want to call back and alert her captor.

  At least not until she could find out where the call had originated.

  Snatching up the telephone, Jennifer dialed the newspaper office. There were directories of numbers, and James, of all the people she knew in town, would have easiest access to them. If she could find the location the call had been made from, then she could scope out the situation and perhaps rescue the children herself. Or at least turn it over to the police when she was certain where they were. Surely Bixley couldn't mess up a rescue if everything else was put in his hands.

  The idea of Mimi and Tommy safely home with their families was almost more than she could stand. The possibility galvanized her. As soon as she had James on the line, she told him, and three minutes later he was looking through a phone directory that was listed by numbers.

  "It's not here," he said, the sound of the pages flipping as he searched.

  "It has to be." Jennifer's stomach knotted. To be so close!

  "Ah."

  "Ah, what?" She felt her heart kick back into life again. "What is it, James?"

  "Let me make a few calls and get back to you." His voice was terse and he didn't wait for a response.

  Jennifer held the receiver in her hand, almost not believing that he'd hung up on her so abruptly. A million fears zipped through her head, but she replaced the phone and sank into a chair. The stillness of her body was a total contrast to her thoughts. Two minutes hadn't passed before the phone rang.

  "It's a cellular phone…" James hesitated. "Listed to J. P. Frost."

  Jennifer let the information sink in. So, J.P. Frost had taken his daughter. It was a
horrid thing to do, no matter what his reasoning. And poor Mimi had undoubtedly been told that Eugene had taken her. Anger boiled in Jennifer, but she kept her mouth firmly closed.

  "Are you there?" James was waiting for the explosion.

  "Is there any way to trace where the call came from?" She felt her doubts beginning to loom huge and formidable.

  "As you know, cellular phones are transportable. The call could have been made from almost anywhere. There's no way I can trace that, and I don't think the operator would, even if she could, without a court order." He gripped the phone, knowing that Jennifer's high hopes of finding the children were sinking lower and lower.

  "It wouldn't matter. Frost would simply claim that he made the call to Eugene."

  "It isn't evidence, Jennifer, but it is a clue. Possibly a damn important clue. But why would Frost take Tommy Franklin, too. I mean I can understand that he might snatch his own kid in some custody battle, but why another child?"

  "To put the blame on someone else. Like Eugene." She held the receiver to her ear and sank back against the chair. It was insane. J. P. Frost was a crazy man.

  "Well, whoever is behind this, he's one smart son of a gun."

  "You mean, you don't think it was Mimi's father?"

  "I don't know what to think. There's something cockeyed about all of this." He said something to someone standing at his desk. "Excuse me, Jennifer, John's waiting on a story here. Listen, let me finish up and then we'll hash this out."

  "Sure." Even as she spoke she knew she didn't sound convincing.

  "You'll wait for me to get off?"

  "I'll be at Eugene's, or at my house." She crossed her fingers behind her back.

  "Good. I'll be there as soon as I can."

  Jennifer hung up the phone. "Damn!" She hit the table with her fist and then leaned down on her arms. "Double damn!" she whispered against the cool wood of the table.

  Chapter Nine

  Jennifer forced her body out of the chair and into action. Her muscles weren't tired but her brain wanted only to retreat into the unconsciousness of sleep. There wasn't time for such self-indulgence, though. All of her plans for the evening had been pushed aside. If that call was from Mimi, then she and Tommy were safe— that was what she had to cling to. And if they were safe, then they could be rescued. But time was ticking away.