“I have an idea, but we have to move fast.” Jake frowned at his fingers as they slipped under the slightly curling ends of her short-cropped hair, dipped into the humid warmth inside the collar of his robe, found the clasp and opened it. When, without thinking, he rubbed his thumb over the tiny red mark the metal had left on her skin, he felt her shiver.
She turned again to face him, the fingers of one hand absently rubbing the place where the choker had been, and he knew the questions that must be quivering on her lips. But he had no time for questions then. Already he was opening a drawer, taking out a box of zippable plastic bags, pulling one out and dropping the pearls inside, while his mind rocketed on like a missile leaving its own noise behind.
He growled, “The rock, too-your engagement ring-come on, come on,” motioning impatiently when she looked confused. But she took off the diamond ring and gave it to him. Trusting him. And a part of him acknowledged that trust and was warmed by it as he dropped the ring into the bag with the pearls, returned it to the box it had come out of and the box to the drawer.
It was that warmth, and his fear of softening, that made his voice harsh when he spoke to her. “Go-get the dress on and meet me back here. Dammit, move-it’s been six hours already.”
But this time she stood where she was, hands clutching the lapels of the bathrobe. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” As softly as she spoke, Jake recognized the danger in her tone, as well as in the slight elevation of her chin. Trust him she might, but not blindly; it wasn’t in her nature.
He frowned, but let go of his impatience with a breath. “To the hospital. But I need to make a call first.” The receiver was already in his hand.
“The…hospital? But I’m not-I don’t need-”
Jake punched a button, then leveled a look at her, this time asking her for the trust she’d given so freely a few minutes before. “I think we might have a way out of this, but we have to hurry. I’ll explain on the way. Go.”
And he turned his back to her, already growling instructions into the phone. Eve waited for a moment, waiting for the spark of rebellion within her to mushroom into full-blown insurrection. When it didn’t happen, she gave a mental shrug and went. It wasn’t in her nature to take orders without a full and detailed explanation. But the man was… the FBI. And she had, after all, pretty much committed herself to his protection when she’d crawled into his surveillance van. Probably the least she ought to do was trust him.
Upstairs, she made use once more of the bathroom, then crossed into Jake’s small, spartan bedroom, unbelting the robe as she went. She shivered a little as she abandoned the warm terry cloth and its comforting masculine smells for the cold satin wedding gown and the sour odors of garbage and stale champagne. Though that seemed somehow weirdly appropriate to her, now. Once beautiful, the dress now seemed spoiled-in more ways than one. It felt contaminated… slimy against her skin.
She suppressed a shudder as she pulled the stiff, pearl-and-lace-encrusted bodice up and plunged her arms into the narrow sleeves. Then, holding up the top with one hand and the skirts with the other, she made her way carefully down the stairs.
She met Jake coming from the kitchen, the cordless phone still in his hand. “Can you help me-” she began, but he anticipated her request and brusquely waved it aside.
“Never mind the buttons-the dress is just for the witnesses, anyway.”
“What?” She looked at him blankly.
“In case anybody’s asked how you came in-to the emergency room, capish? They’ll remember a woman in a wedding dress.”
She breathed a silent “Oh” as he guided her past him, his manner almost deferential, not touching her, just a slight gesture toward her elbow. She felt the tension in him, the energy radiating from his body like heat from a stove. The exposed skin of her back felt it, too, and shivered as if something-the barest of touches-had skimmed across its surface.
When they were in the van, Jake said in the low but sharpedged murmur of a man intent on his mission, “Okay, here’s the story.” They were heading slowly out of the cul-de-sac, quiet at that hour except for the thumping of someone’s stereo. Eve turned her head to look at him and caught the grim shape of his profile, frozen in the cold illumination of a yard lamp. Feeling her eyes on him, he returned her glance, his eyes flicking to her throat and then to the hand with which she held the top of her dress in place just above her breasts. “You were mugged-robbed.” He hesitated for Eve’s bark of surprise, then shifted his gaze back through the windshield. “The assailant conked you on the head, took your necklace and engagement ring, then dumped you into the trash bin. You regained consciousness, crawled out of the bin and wandered off in a state of confusion. You apparently found your way into my unlocked van, where you once again lost consciousness. I only just found you and called the local police.” He glanced her way again, briefly. “An officer will meet us at the hospital to take your statement.”
Eve could think of nothing to say. At his first words her heartbeat had kicked into high gear, spurred by excitement, reaction…hope. Was it possible? Could this man really accomplish such miracles? Could Sonny be outwitted, his suspicions allayed, her life salvaged so easily? Even allowing for the resources of the FBI, it seemed too much to believe.
Almost as if he’d heard her thoughts, Jake went on in a flat, policeman’s drone that was somehow the more convincing for being utterly devoid of emotional intensity. “The police have been apprised of the situation and have promised cooperation. Medical personnel will be brought into the picture only on an as-needed basis, but-” and he flicked her a sardonic glance “-I don’t think it’s going to be necessary to tell them much. You look pretty convincing. In any case, you will be provided with all necessary verification and evidence of your injunes-”
“Injuries?” said Eve faintly.
“You suffered a concussion. Consequently, you have no memory of the attack, or of events immediately preceding or following the incident. Your family and, uh, loved ones will be notified as soon as you are able to identify yourself. You will probably be kept in the hospital for observation, however, as is customary with any potentially serious head injury
Her own eyes were fixed without focus on the windshield, but she felt his head turn toward her, and as they idled at a signal light, the long and weighty burden of his scrutiny. The light changed and as they moved forward again he added, “That gives you a day or two, if you need it.”
She nodded. Words screamed inside her mind, trapped behind the hand she’d clamped across her mouth; emotions tumbled futilely inside her, trapped simply by their own enormity. She sat trembling-ironically, now that her predicament seemed all but solved, on the verge of tears-feeling Jake’s glance brush her intermittently, like the sweep of a searchlight.
Finally, as the van turned off the main street and jolted through the hospital’s emergency entrance, driven to panic by the knowledge that the opportunity was about to slip by her, she blurted it out, and all of her horror, fear and despair was there in her voice for him to hear. And she felt more naked; the exposure was more intimate to her, than even the knowledge that he’d undressed her.
“What am I going to do?” she cried, in the rapid, breathless voice of a frightened child. “I can’t go back to Sonny-I can’t! If I don’t, he’ll know something’s wrong. But how can I go back to… being with him, knowing… what I know?”
“Well,” said Jake without much evidence of sympathy, “I guess you’d better hope you’re one hell of an actress.”