“Come on,” Jack groaned at the busy signal from Gina’s apartment. He tried the number again. It was still busy, so he asked the operator to interrupt. “Yes, it is definitely an emergency,” he said firmly.
But Gina refused to let him cut in.
“What do you mean, she won’t let me?” he asked with disbelief. But the operator gave no explanation.
He switched off the phone and drove even faster, fearing the worst.
Chapter 15
Seven minutes later the Mustang careened over a speed bump and squealed to a stop outside Gina’s condominium. Jack jumped out, devoured two steps at a time on the stairway to Gina’s front door, and then knocked firmly. He paced frantically until Gina finally opened up.
“Is everything okay?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
Gina stood in the doorway, wearing a tight-fitting white denim mini and a loose red tank top that revealed as much of her breasts as any wandering eye cared to see.
“Where’s Cindy?” he demanded.
“Cindy’s out.”
“Out where?”
Gina made a face. “Out being twisted like a pretzel by a squadron of Chippendale dancers. It’s none of your business where she is. She’s out.”
“I have to find her. I think someone may be after her.”
“Yeah,” Gina scoffed, hands resting on her hips. “You are.”
Jack stiff-armed the door to keep Gina from shutting it in his face. “I’m not making this up. Ever since the Goss trial ended, someone’s been following me-making threats. Some guy with a raspy voice called me and said there was a killer on the loose. He tried to run me over with his car. He killed my dog. And now he might be after Cindy.”
Gina’s face finally registered concern. “Cindy’s safe,” she said coolly. “After you two had your little Saturday morning brawl, she decided to catch an earlier flight to Rome. We went by the house this afternoon while you were out, and cleaned out her closet. Then dropped her off at the airport. She’s on her way to Italy.
“Oh,” he said, “that’s great.” But he didn’t feel great. He was relieved that she was safe, but he was having hard time adjusting to the fact that she was actually gone. Some part of him was wishing he had had one last chance to explain himself to her.
Gina watched as he turned to leave. It amazed her the way Jack looked after Cindy, even after they’d split up. Gina had definitely felt rejected last year, when Jack had dropped her for Cindy after their one blind-date. And although Jack and Cindy were both denying it to themselves, she was convinced that the trip to Italy would be the end of their relationship-which only made her wonder, as she’d often wondered before, just what it would take to get Jack to notice her.
“And what about me?” she said, arching her eyebrow as he looked back at her quizzically. “What if the lunatic comes looking for Cindy, and I’m here all alone?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Stay,” she said. “Just in case something happens.”
His mouth opened, but his speech was on a several-second delay. “I don’t think-”
“You think too much, Jack. That’s your whole problem. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink. Maybe I’ll even give you the lowdown on how truly ‘professional’ Cindy’s so-called business trip to Italy is,” she said coyly as she stepped back, inviting Jack inside.
He flinched. He wanted to think that she was yanking his chain about Cindy, but her insinuation had the ring of truth-especially since she’d packed up her clothes and left this afternoon without giving him a chance to apologize. In any event, after everything he’d been through over the last week, he saw no harm in not being alone-especially if his company could fill him in on what Cindy was really thinking. “Make it a Scotch,” he said. “On the rocks.”
Jack followed Gina inside the townhouse, through the foyer and living room. The downstairs was one big room, done in white tile, black lacquer, chrome and glass, with some large abstract acrylic paintings, Persian rugs, and dried flowers for color.
“Here,” she said as she tossed him a terrycloth robe. “Let me put those wet clothes in the dryer for you.”
He hesitated, even though he was soaked.
“Believe me, Jack,” she half-kidded, “if I wanted you out of your clothes, I’d be far less subtle. Now get in there and change before you catch pneumonia.”
He retreated into the bathroom and peeled off his wet clothes-which left him with the problem of what to do with the gun in his pants pocket. He didn’t want to do any more explaining to Gina. He removed the bullets, wrapped them with the gun in a washcloth, and slid the wad into one of the robe’s deep pockets. The knife wound on his left hand had stopped bleeding, so he carefully rinsed away some of the dried blood. He emerged with his hand in his pocket. Gina took his clothes and tossed them into the dryer, then led him to the kitchen.
“You did say Scotch,” said Gina.
“Right,” he replied. He watched from the bar stool across the kitchen counter as she filled his glass. The kitchen’s bright fluorescent lights afforded him a really good look at his ex-girlfriend’s best friend. Gorgeous, he thought, absolutely gorgeous. She had dark, glistening eyes, set off against a smooth olive complexion; he imagined there were no tan lines beneath her tight white miniskirt. Her only flaw was an ever-so slightly crooked smile, noticeable only because it was accentuated by her bright red lip gloss. The imperfection was enough to have kept her from becoming a teenage supermodel, but Jack didn’t see it as an imperfection.
“Here you are,” she said as she handed him his glass.
He nodded appreciatively, then downed most of the drink.
“Tough night?” she teased, pouring him a refill.
“Tough month,” he quipped.
A gleam came to Gina’s eye. “I’ve got just the thing for you. Let’s do Jagermeisters.”
“Excuse me?”
“Shots,” she said as she lined up a couple of glasses on the counter. “It’s just a cordial.”
“I don’t think-”
“I told you,” she interrupted, “you think too much.” She poured two shots, more in Jack’s glass than hers, then handed him one. “Prost,” she said, toasting in German.
Their heads jerked back in unison as they downed the shots.
Gina smiled. “Good start. Have another,” she said as she filled his glass.
The second was gone as quickly as the first.
“Whoa,” Jack wheezed.
Gina filled his glass again.
“What’s in this stuff?” he asked, his throat burning.
“Drink that one. Then I’ll tell you.”
He hesitated, reminding himself he was there to keep a lid on things. It wouldn’t do to be half-in-the-bag if Goss showed up. “Gina, I think I’ve had enough.”
“C’mon,” she pouted. “Just one more. Relax”-she looked over her shoulder-“the lock on that door is strong enough to keep the bogeyman out.”
It was no use. She raised the shot glass to his lips, and he reluctantly swallowed.
She smirked at the glazed look on his face. “It’s from Germany. It’s actually illegal in most of this country. Something about the opium in it.”
“Opium?” his jaw dropped.
Gina smiled wryly. “You’ll be totally shit-faced in about ninety seconds.”
He took a deep breath. He was already feeling something considerably more than an ordinary buzz. He grabbed the edge of the counter to keep his bearings. “I’ve got to go,” he said.
She leaned across the counter and looked into his eyes. He blinked and looked away only to get an eyeful of cleavage, which made him shift awkwardly, as if his personal space had been invaded.
“I really should go,” he said. But he didn’t pull back.
“I know a couple of ways to make you stay,” she said slyly.