Murphy's Law (5 page)

“What does he do?”

“You must ask him this.”

Their newfound rapport went only so far. Jack must have given her instructions before he left. “Okay. No questions about Mr. Murphy.”

Over breakfast, Chantal told Lilly the history of the theater. She listened with interest, thankful she hadn’t been told the night before.
Her
near brush with death and twelve hours of sleep changed the way she viewed many things. Last night, she would have felt outraged about being forced to stay. Today, she was happy to be alive. The terror that had ruled her actions the past two days receded to a nagging fear.

“I must go to the bank,” Chantal said. “There are books in the salon you can read.”

Once Chantal left the house, Lilly spent an hour with a few of the dancers, who tried to teach her the tricks of their trade. She discovered that stripping took more energy and fewer inhibitions than she possessed. Leaving them to their work, she retired to the parlor. The room reminded her of something from an old movie with the French Provençal furniture covered in lush velvets. Summer sunrises left faded streaks on the colorful hand-screened wallpaper that accented the west wall. Large ceiling fans cooled the air and added a touch of authenticity to the theater’s colorful and infamous past.

She walked around the room, viewing the unusual variety of books on the shelves. From classics to comedy, Chantal owned an extensive private library. Unable to resist the irony, she pulled down a copy of Twain’s
An Innocent Abroad
in English, and sank into the plush sofa to read.

* * * *

Jack watched Lilly from the doorway in amusement. “I heard you’ve got undiscovered talents. Would you do a little fan dance for me?”

She gave him a disinterested glance and returned her attention to her book. “You couldn’t pay me enough.”

He laughed and crossed the length of the room with a cocky swagger. “I don’t know about that.” He sat down next to her and grinned. “What’s your passport worth to you?”

“Not all
that much since you don’t
plan to let me go.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Lilly,” he gently warned her.

She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. Would she be better off on her own? As a kid she’d hated the game of hide-and-seek, and these lethal players were way out of her league. The explosion yesterday proved that. However, if Mr. Santana had hired Jack to bring her back, then her ex-boss had double-crossed them both. Being with Jack might be as unhealthy as being without him.

“Is it possible to make a call?”

“No. But your family is doing fine.”

She dropped her book and gaped at him. “How did you know I wanted to call my family?”

“It’s a logical guess, but if you make an overseas call to your family, it can be traced. Not very smart when you’re trying to keep a low profile.”

“Well excuse me. Being a fugitive is your line of expertise, not mine.”

He shrugged off her insult. “I hope your line of expertise includes cooking, because we have ourselves a job on a ship departing tonight. And you will be responsible for feeding ten very hungry men while their cook is laid up.”

She cocked her eyebrow. “And if I can’t cook?”

“They won’t be angry with me.” His dark eyes shone with laughter. “Is that all?”

“No. I told them you were my wife, so try to pretend that you like me.”

She knew how to cook. Pretending to like him might prove to be her undoing. “I suppose I could fake it.”

“Do you often ‘fake it’ with men?”

Lilly sprung from the sofa. “You’re a pig.”

He chuckled. “Chantal was right. You are a repressed little American.”

She grabbed the first thing her hand came in contact with. “Repress this.”

An embroidered pillow flew at his head. The force of the blow was too much

For the old stitching, and it burst open at the seam, sending a spray of goose down around the room. A blizzard of snowy white feathers floated to the floor.

“Now I’m really scared,” Jack spouted. He waved his hand at the flying feathers to send them in her direction. “What’s next? Are you going to try to take me out with a Nerf ball?”

Emotionally drained, she dropped to her knees and gave up. He had found her limit and pushed one step beyond. She’d been running too long. She was lonely, homesick and so tired. He could do or say whatever the hell he wanted, but she wouldn’t let him get to her again. She took the empty pillowcase and started to gather the feathers in handfuls, stuffing them back inside.

Jack slid off the couch and knelt down next to her. “You’ll never finish like that. Wait until they settle.”

“Leave me alone.”

* * * *

Lilly continued the futile task, working hard and getting nowhere. Jack let her work out her anger until her movements became less rigid. When she stood up to move around the sofa, he took hold of her wrist and pulled her to him.

Her foot gave out, and she stumbled. Instinctively, her arms locked around his neck. Her genuine gasp of shock forced him to bite back another laugh. She stared, her blue eyes wide and anxious.
And so incredibly beautiful.

He held her waist until she caught her balance. Something akin to emotion constricted his chest. Dormant feelings stirred to life, waging war with the cool reserve he’d cloaked himself in. When he smiled, she tried to squirm out of his arms.

“I’m not the enemy, Lilly. I’m on your side.”

“Well, wrap me up in a green sheet and call me ‘Miss Liberty’. The man is on the side of apple pie and baseball.” She pushed down on the hands that held her. “Let me go.”

“When I’m finished.
We have a rough few days ahead of us. I know you’re scared, but I need to know exactly what it is you’re afraid of.”

She stopped struggling and looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Is that a rhetorical question? Someone is trying to kill me.”

He nodded.
“Who?”

She shook her head and allowed him to lower her into the feather-covered sofa. “I’m not sure.”

“But you have an idea, don’t you?”

“My boss?” she asked, casting him a desperate look, as if hoping he held answers for her.

“Edward Santana?”

She didn’t seem surprised that he knew the name. She nodded and then shrugged. “It could be.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?”

Her body tensed, and she glowered indignantly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How much do you know about his business?”

She considered his question. “He’s an exporter. He exports food and medical supplies to Middle Eastern countries.”

“Is that all he exports?”

“That’s all he had me put on the shipping documents. That’s what I signed my name to.”

Jack ended his questioning. He knew he wouldn’t get an admission out of her. She didn’t know who he worked for. Little by little, she would reveal things in her own time. When her curiosity got the better of her, she would search for the answers.

Edward Santana had been too smart to put his own signature on anything.
Because
 
Lilly’s
 
signature appeared on all the documents, Jack’s superiors questioned her innocence. Other bits of circumstantial evidence pointed to her as an accomplice, but that didn’t necessarily make her guilty. However, she knew something, which likely made her a dangerous liability to her boss.

* * * *

Lilly spent the rest of the day at the theater while Jack went to buy some clothes for her. Although she’d asked to accompany him, she knew he didn’t trust her. He returned to the house at six o’clock, carrying two bags.

No man had ever bought her clothes. She barely had time to check the sizes before Jack tossed them into an old suitcase. Aside from one pair of jeans, he chose the most shapeless, drab clothing she’d ever seen. Since she didn’t want to impress him, she kept her opinion to herself.

He snapped the case shut and locked it. “Are you ready?”

“I guess so. Let me check.” She glanced around the room for the possessions they both knew she did not own. “I think I’ve got everything. Did you remember to leave a note for the milkman?”

“Why don’t you put your sarcastic mouth in neutral and let it idle for a while?”

She clicked her heels together and saluted him.
“Sir, yes, sir.
Will that be all, sir?”

He grunted and took her hand.

She locked her fingers through his, holding tightly. A blast of fear paralyzed her. Her stomach cramped. She pulled her sweaty hand free from his.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Bathroom,” she blurted out and ran down the hall. At least he didn’t laugh or try to follow.

* * * *

Ten minutes later, Lilly joined Jack in the parlor. She still looked shaky as she leaned against a chair for support.

“Coffee?”
Chantal offered.

“No, please,” Lilly moaned. Her gaze traveled to the empty scrap of embroidered material. “I’m sorry about the pillow.”

“It’s nothing. I only wish I see Jack looking like a big goose.”

Jack grunted. “We have to get moving. The ship leaves in another hour, and we still might have to get through customs.”

“Okay,” Lilly said.

Her calm agreement surprised him. He’d expected her to use her illness as an excuse to remain
put
. She never asked where the ship was heading or how long the job would last. Not that he could answer her. He didn’t even tell Chantal their destination.

At the door, Chantal put a hand on her arm. “This is for you.”

Lilly peeked inside the nylon bag with Jack looking right over her shoulder.

She saw the white negligee set and snapped it shut quickly. He chuckled, and the blood rushed to her face. “Am I supposed to thank you for this?”

“You just take care of my Jack,” Chantal instructed Lilly.

“He wouldn’t listen to me.”

Chantal winked at Jack. “You take care of him, anyway. It will annoy him, no?”

Lilly’s laughter warmed him. He could picture her doting on him out of spite. Although he liked the mental image of her fussing over him, he tried to shake off the dangerous thoughts. “Wait here while I get a cab.”

Jack lifted the suitcase and walked out into the cool evening air. It was the height of tourist season, and he had to wave his arms for ten minutes before finally hailing an empty taxi. He tossed the suitcase on the front seat and called for her to join him.

During the short ride to the docks she stared moodily out the window. He knew she wanted to ask where they were heading, but she didn’t say a word. Her face brightened with anticipation when she saw the cruise ships in port. Did she think they had a job on the
Love Boat
?

Jack paid the driver and escorted Lilly along the road. A chain link fence ran the length of the port, with guarded doors at each of the piers. They walked in the direction of a beautiful ship lit like a Christmas tree. Lilly smiled and turned in the direction of the pier, but he pulled her along.

“Not that one.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, unable to hide her disappointment. They continued walking for another hundred yards. He stopped, and her head jerked up. “What?”

“That’s it.”

She stared at the old fishing trawler in utter disbelief. “That’s not a cruise ship.”

“Very good.
You know your ships.”

“You’ve got to be joking? You don’t expect me to work on that rickety old boat? It doesn’t look like it can limp out of port.”

“Ship.
And it’s seaworthy,” he assured her, but he saw the doubt in her eyes. He handed her an envelope. “If immigration officers board the ship, you’ll have to show your passport. Let’s pray they don’t.”

He hoped to keep his whereabouts a secret without causing an international incident. The global climate of late made for tough immigration standards. Stucky had excelled at avoiding checkpoints, particularly along the Mediterranean. Jack’s strengths laid elsewhere.

* * * *

Lilly clutched his shirtsleeve. “What about you?”

“I need to take care of something.” Jack didn’t elaborate, and Lilly suspected the less she knew the better. He cupped his fingers around her elbow and led her to the ship. “My friend, Mustafa, will meet you on the deck.”

Lilly stumbled up the wooden ramp to the boat. The black sky sparkled with brilliant stars. A lot like the Iowa sky that she missed, now more than ever. She turned back, but Jack had already disappeared into the night. With a deep breath she boarded the ship. A dark-eyed man in a traditional Middle Eastern caftan came towards her.