He'd been right. The guy got off a lucky shot that felt like a four-by-four slamming end-on into Jack's chest. Knocked him off the truck and the wind out of his lungs, but the ten-ply vest had stopped the slug.
Good thing he'd had those weighted gloves. Abe hadn't been able to find white ones, but he'd provided Jack a pair of white cotton gloves to wear over the more traditional black leather. The lead inserts doubled the impact of every punch and allowed him to make short work of the creep.
And then Jack had lost it. Maybe it was the pain, maybe it was thinking how he'd be dead if he hadn't worn the vest, and maybe it was remembering the victims of the slimeball's rip-off. Whatever, the darkness within slipped out of its hole and took over for a little while.
Gia slipped an arm around him and pulled him closer.
One of her breasts rested on the bruise. She nuzzled against his neck.
"When are you going to quit this?" she said.
Jack took a deep breath and felt a sharp stab of pain. He figured the bullet impact had caused a minor separation in his rib cartilage. Not the first time for him, probably not the last.
"Oh, we're not going to get into that now, are we?" he said softly, smoothing her soft blond hair.
"It's just that I get so scared when I think about people shooting at you."
"It's not an everyday occurrence. Most of my fix-ups are strictly hands-off affairs."
"But there's always the potential for things to go wrong. I mean, you're not exactly dealing with upstanding citizens in your line of work."
"You've got a point there."
Maybe if he kept agreeing, she'd let it drop.
"I know I owe Repairman Jack, but—"
"You don't owe him anything."
"Yes, I do. Vicky is alive because of him. That crazy Indian killed Grace and Nellie, and if you had been anybody else, he would have fed Vicky to those things …"
She shuddered and pressed against him.
Jack closed his eyes and remembered the nightmare… Kusum Bahkti had traveled from Bengal to honor a vow of vengeance against the Westphalen family stemming from an atrocity during the Raj. With her aunts Grace and Nellie gone, Vicky was the last of the Westphalen line.
Kusum had come this close to fulfilling his vow.
"I think ol' RJ owes Gia an equal debt. If you hadn't come back here that night…"
Jack had been cut up pretty bad saving Vicky. He'd lost a lot of blood, and was too weak to cross the room to the phone. If Gia hadn't come looking for him and taken him over to Doc Hargus…
"I'd say we're even," he said.
He felt Gia shake her head against his shoulder.
"No. Anybody off the street could have found you and got you to a hospital. But saving Vicky… if you had been a carpenter or a copywriter, or even a cop, anyone but who you are… she'd be gone. And that's why I feel like such a hypocrite when I tell you to hang up your Repairman Jack suit—"
"Hey, now. You make me sound like Batman."
"Okay, you're not into spandex, but deep down inside, that's who you are, aren't you."
"A crime fighter? Gia, you're one of the few people I know who's not some sort of criminal. I run a business, Gia. A business. I charge for my services."
"You didn't charge for last night."
"And see what I get for it! One freebie, and suddenly I'm Batman. Or that do-gooder who used to be on TV—"The Equalizer." That's why I never do freebies. Once the word got out, everybody would expect me to put my butt on the line simply because they need me."
Gia raised her head and grinned at him. "Oh, yeah. You're so tough."
Jack shrugged. "Money talks, bullshit walks."
"And you're only in it for the money."
"If they've got the dime, I've got the time."
Her grin broadened. "And you don't get emotionally involved."
Jack fought a responding smile. "If you don't stay cool, you act like a fool."
Gia placed her palm over the bruise on his chest. "One more rhyme and I push the purple button—hard."
He tried to roll away but she had him. "Okay. If you stop, I'll stop."
"Deal. But admit it: You do get emotionally involved."
"I try not to. It's dangerous."
"That's my point. You identify with everybody you take on as a client."
"'Customer,' please. Lawyers and accountants have clients. I have customers."
"All right. Customers. My point is, you don't hire out to just anyone who happens to have the necessary cash."
"I go case by case." Jack was growing uncomfortable.
He wanted off the subject. "I mean, I've got to feel I can do the job, otherwise we're both wasting time. I'm just a small businessman, Gia."
She groaned and flopped onto her back. "A small businessman who has no social security number, dozens of last names, and never pays taxes."
"I pay sales tax… sometimes."
"Face it, Jack, this Repairman Jack stuff gives you a rush, and you're hooked on it."
Jack didn't like to think of himself as hooked on adrenaline, but maybe it was true. He had to admit he'd had a bodacious buzz after leaving the creep and the stolen toys in front of the Center last night. He'd been completely unaware of how much he was hurting until he got home.
"Maybe I am, and maybe I'm not. But let's just say I retire—hang up the 'Repairman Jack suit,' as you so eloquently put it—what then?"
"Then we begin a real life together."
Jack sighed. A life together with Gia and Vicky… now that was tempting.
And so damn strange. Back in his twenties he'd never imagined himself married or living in any traditional arrangement. And being a father? Him? No way.
But becoming involved with Gia and falling for Vicky had changed all that. He wanted them around, and wanted to be around them, all the time.
If only it were that simple.
"You mean, get married?"
"Yes, I mean get married. Is that so awful?"
"Not the ceremony. And certainly not the commitment. But going to a municipal building and registering my name somewhere…" He faked a minor seizure. "Aaaaargh!"
"You'll use one of your fake identities—we'll pick one with a name that sounds nice following Gia and Vicky—and that'll be it. Easy."
"Couldn't we just live together?" Jack said, though he already knew the answer. But at least they were off the subject of his work.
"Sure. Soon as Vicky's grown up and moved out and married and on her own. Until then, Vicky's mom doesn't shack up with anyone—not even that man Jack who Vicky and her mom love so much."
Gia had been a Manhattanite and an artist for many years now, and seemed every bit as urbane as the next, but every so often the Iowa farm girl nestling deep within her surfaced to call the shots.
Which was okay with Jack. That Iowa farm girl was part of her appeal, part of what made her Gia.
But marriage wasn't the problem. Repairman Jack was the real barrier to going public with the relationship. For as soon as Jack moved in with Gia and Vicky—or vice versa—he became vulnerable. He tended to make enemies in his line of work. He tried to keep his face out of his fixes, but a certain amount of exposure was unavoidable. A fair number of people with a grudge knew what he looked like. Every so often one of them found out where he lived. What followed was usually unpleasant. But because Jack lived alone, because he was very circumspect about appearing in public with anyone he cared about, the grudge guys had to deal directly with him. Fine. He could handle that. And he did. Most of them were never seen again.