The way Jack saw it, he had three priorities: getting the new software program ready for testing, fixing Gen’s pink suitcase, and making sure he took her out for ice cream. Sleep wasn’t a priority, so he didn’t bother much with that.

By six-thirty on the night he’d promised to pick up Gen, he had the software project in decent shape. Not perfect yet, but he was on the right track, and he could afford this break. Gen’s suitcase, the handle neatly repaired by a shoe shop, sat by his front door. He trimmed his beard, jumped in the shower, and dressed in the white shorts and white T-shirt Mrs. Applegate had bought for him.

She’d heard about his adventure and had come over wanting to do something to help, so he’d given her a shirt and a pair of slacks for size and asked her to go shopping for him. He’d explained the black program that Gen had outlined and given Mrs. Applegate a wad of cash.

His neighbor was a careful shopper, and he couldn’t believe how many things she’d walked in with last night. She’d followed his directions about buying a lot of black, but she’d also bought him some white stuff, which she said would be much more comfortable in the summer and would look good with his tan. He’d decided that she was right about wearing white in the summer, and white seemed like the right color for an ice cream date, as long as he was careful with the double chocolate fudge.

About four this morning he’d taken a break from writing code to make a test run over to Gen’s house so he’d know how long the trip would take. Fifteen minutes, but he’d add another five to allow for more traffic. At four in the morning her mom’s house had been dark, and Jack had parked outside for a few minutes, thinking about Gen inside, sound asleep.

While he was deep into his project he hadn’t missed her quite so much, but this morning he’d ached so badly he could barely stand it. If he’d known which bedroom window belonged to her, he might have thrown stones against it to wake her up. But he hadn’t known, and he still had plenty of work to do on the Rainbow program, so he’d forced himself to drive home again.

Tonight would be an ice cream date—nothing more. Even if Gen acted like she wanted it to turn into more, Jack was going to do his best to resist her. He wanted to impress upon her that he was a man of his word when it came to this relationship. His track record with women had been terrible, so now he had to prove that he could be reliable. If he was very careful about coming through on all his promises to Gen, he might have a chance with her.

At ten minutes past seven he left his house. At twenty minutes past seven he ran out of gas.

* * *

After the first moment of terror, which Genevieve thought would happen to anybody grabbed suddenly from behind, she got furious. She was sick and tired of Nick Brogan running around trying to kill innocent folks.

So when he hauled her up out of the chair by the neck, she tried to stomp on his bad foot.

“Stop it!” he yelled. “I’ve got your knife! I’ll slit your throat if you don’t stop it!”

“You will not.” She kept struggling and stomping, wishing she had on shoes. She tried to get an elbow in his stomach, but he pulled her up hard against him, and he was stronger than she was. She tried screaming a little, but decided that was a waste of time. Nobody would hear her over the rap music blasting away next door.

Nick smelled like disinfectant and sweat, not a good combo. Having such close contact with his body made her skin crawl. “Look out, Nick. I’m gonna throw up.”

“I don’t believe you.” He was breathing hard, but he must have recovered his strength in the hospital because his arms felt like iron around her neck and ribs. “We’re going in the house now.”

“No, we’re not.” She brought her heel down as hard as she could on his bad toe.

His yowl of pain was the most unholy sound she’d ever heard. She struggled out of his grip and started for the house. She was inside, gasping and fumbling with the lock, when he crashed through the door, flinging her against the wall.

He lunged for her, his face a mask of pain and fury. She fought him off, hitting, kicking, and scratching, but he got his hands around her throat.

She tried to pry them loose, but rage must have made him even stronger. His thumbs pressed against her windpipe. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t…

* * *

Jack looked at the gas gauge and wondered why he hadn’t run out long before this. The needle had been on empty when he’d driven to the airport to meet Nick and Gen. Matt had taken him to the airport yesterday to get his car, and Jack hadn’t given the gas situation another thought, not even early this morning when he’d taken his test run to Gen’s. Maybe Gen was right, and he didn’t deserve a classy woman like her.

He had no gas can. Even if he ran to the station, bought one, got gas, ran back, and put it in, he’d lose too much time. Damn it all. Damn it to hell.

No, by God. He wasn’t giving up. If he went on foot, he could cut through some areas he’d otherwise have to drive around, so the trip would be shorter. By sprinting all the way there, he might only be a couple of minutes late. They could take her car for ice cream.

Arriving panting and sweaty wasn’t how he’d planned to begin this date, but Gen would have to give him credit for trying his best. Abandoning his car, he pocketed the keys, grabbed her pink suitcase, and started running.

* * *

When Gen came to, she tried to lift her hands and discovered they were tied to the back of the kitchen chair she was sitting in. Nick had ripped up one of Mama’s favorite dish towels to do it, the one with pretty seashells on the border. That infuriated Genevieve.

She was also tied to Mama’s chair, the one Mama always used, and that infuriated her even more. She never sat in this chair. Neither did Lincoln. This was Mama’s seat. Nick sat in Lincoln’s chair, eating the other half of her turkey sandwich, the part she’d saved for Lincoln. She wanted to wring his worthless neck.

When she swallowed, her throat hurt, but she wanted to know a few things, sore throat or not. “Why are you messing with me, Nick Brogan? You must have got loose from the hospital, so why aren’t you hightailing it out of here?”

He smiled at her. “Ah, we’re awake.” He took another bite of the sandwich, chewed and swallowed before answering. “In order to hightail it out of here, my little hick from the sticks, I need some help. You’re my bargaining chip.” He surveyed her from head to foot.

She was suddenly cold, even though it was close to ninety degrees in the house. “You’ll never get away with it.”

“I think so. People seem to think a lot of you. They wouldn’t want you to end up dead. And now I want you to make a phone call to Matt Murphy.”

She used Jack’s line from the island. “Gee, I would love to, but I’m all tied up.”

“I’ll dial the phone.” He picked up the cordless where it was lying on the table beside his plate. “You just talk. Tell him I want safe passage to Fiji for you and me, and once I get there, you’ll be sent back, unharmed.”

“I’m so sure he’ll believe that, you toad-sucking weasel.”

“He’ll have to take his chances. I know Matt, and he’s already riddled with guilt because he put you and Farley in danger. He won’t want to take any chances on getting you killed, especially now that he’s sweet on your mother. If something happened to you, that would put a real crimp in his romantic plans.” He picked up the last of the sandwich. “Incidentally, good sandwich. Much better than hospital food.”

“If I’d known you were coming I would have made it even better. I have some yummy rat poison I could have mixed in with the mayonnaise to give it some zing.”

“I didn’t think you’d expect me to show up. I like to keep one step ahead of people.”

“That must be hard, seeing as how you shot yourself in the foot.”

He grimaced. “I blame you for that, Genevieve. And just like I promised you back on the island, you’ll pay for it, along with all the other things you’ve done to me. I used to think you were sweet, but you’re not.”

“I used to think you were human, but you’re not.” She glanced at the kitchen clock. Seven thirty-two. Not only was she being held hostage by a maniac, Jack wasn’t coming to buy her ice cream. Under the circumstances that was a good thing. She didn’t want Jack getting mixed up in this. Still, it was kind of sad, thinking that he’d forgotten his promise. She didn’t blame him—that’s the way geniuses acted. When she got out of this current mess with Nick, she’d tell Jack it was okay that he’d forgotten about the ice cream.

Nick swallowed the last of the sandwich and picked up the phone. “Time to let Matt know we have a new ball game, new rules.”

“You won’t get him. He’s not home.”

“And you would know this because…?”

“He took my mama and Lincoln for…dinner.”

“Then I’ll try his cell.”

“I heard him tell Mama he’d turn it off, so they could have some peace and quiet.”

“You’re just saying that.” Nick punched in a number and held the cordless to his ear. “Shit. He never turns that cell off.”

Genevieve was so glad that Mama hated cell phones. “They’ll be back any minute. You need to get out of here, Nick. If three people walk in the door, you can’t control all of them.”

“I can if I have a knife at your throat.”

“That little whittling knife?” She knew even a whittling knife could do her in, but she tried to pretend she wasn’t worried. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Not that one, although it would have worked.” He reached down to the floor and held up her mama’s ten-inch butcher knife. “I was referring to this little knife.”

“Oh.” Although she was trying to stay mad and not get scared, looking at that knife, which Mama kept razor sharp, bothered her more than she wanted him to know. “You wouldn’t kill me. Then you wouldn’t have a hostage.”

“True, but you never want to test a guy with nothing more to lose. One way or another, I’m not going to prison. It’s Fiji or Hell for me.”

Something in his eyes told her that he meant what he said. Now she had to hope nobody came—not Jack, not her mama, Lincoln, or Matt. She had to think of a way out of this before anybody else showed up, or somebody was bound to get hurt.

At seven thirty-five, the doorbell rang.

Genevieve knew it was Jack, sure as shootin’, and she didn’t want him in here. “That’s probably my Avon lady,” she said. “Don’t answer the door and she’ll go away.”

Nick looked at her with a cold smile on his lips. “That’s not the Avon lady. That’s Jackson Farley, come to pick you up for ice cream. Who would have thought? I was sure you were right about him, and he’d forget completely. Well, Jackson will have to come in and join us, I’m afraid. He expects you to be here, and if you’re not, no telling what he’ll do.”

“Jack!” Genevieve screamed. “Nick’s here!”

Nick cursed and leaped up, placing the blade of the knife against her throat. Then she heard the front door crash open. That lock never had been any good.

“He’s got a knife!” Genevieve yelled.

“And it’s right against your girlfriend’s throat,” Nick said. “So come on in, Farley.”

Jack appeared in the kitchen doorway, breathing hard, the shoulder of his shirt flecked with paint from the door he’d knocked off its hinges. He held her pink suitcase by its strap, which meant he’d had it fixed. After his first glance at Genevieve, he started toward her.

“Stay back, Farley.”

Jack swallowed. “I’m sorry, Gen. I wasn’t thinking. I should have found a phone and called the police.”

“It’s okay, Jack. I’m not sure if the police can help us. Nice outfit, though. And you fixed my suitcase.” He still had his beard, and although he hadn’t dressed in black, he’d managed all white, which turned him into a hottie. He should wear shorts more often. “And you remembered the ice cream date.”

“Of course I did. I would have been here at seven-thirty, but my car ran out of gas, so I had to cover the last part on foot.”

She noticed his shirt was all sweaty. He must have been running. “I shouldn’t have made it a test. I don’t care if you forget sometimes, Jack. I really don’t.”

“Oh, please,” Nick said. “Would you two cut it out.”

“How the hell did you get away, Brogan?” Jack asked. “Matt said they were guarding you twenty-four seven.”

“They were, but as long as people are in charge, you always have to make allowances for human nature. First of all, I pretended I couldn’t walk without horrible pain.”

“I knew it!” Genevieve said. “I told Matt that you’d play possum like that, but he said it didn’t matter, on account of the guards.”

“Well, they had a male guard, of course, me being such a terrible criminal and all, and most of the nurses were women. All I had to do was set up a romance between the best-looking of the guards and the cutest single nurse, and before you knew it, they were paying so much attention to each other they didn’t notice that I’d left the bathroom and was AWOL. Hospitals have plenty of places to hide, and patients hang their clothes right in the room, so eventually I found something that would fit.”

“You’ll never get away with it,” Jack said. “They’re out looking for you. They’re bound to try here.”

“Well, as I explained to your girlfriend here, I’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Okay, I lied to you about when my mama and Matt are coming home,” Genevieve said. “They won’t be home for hours. They went on a boat ride with Lincoln, and they’ll be out until way past dark, cruising around and looking at the lights.”

“Without his cell on?”

“Mama doesn’t like cell phones.”

“Shit.” Nick sounded very unhappy. “I need Matt to be in on this. He’s the guy who can make sure I get to Fiji. I can’t count on the cops for that, but Matt will try to do it, just to save you.”

“It won’t save me,” Genevieve said.

“Nobody knows that for sure, now, so don’t get excited.”

But she knew for sure. Once Nick was positive he wouldn’t be followed, he’d dispose of her. She was too dangerous to keep around. She had to get out of this pickle now or never.

Nick started to say something else, but then he paused and sniffed the air. “Now what? Damned if it doesn’t smell like something’s burning!”

Genevieve realized he was right. In a flash of guilt she remembered her brand-new, super-duper curling iron. She’d decided to curl her hair for Jack, then changed her mind, and never bothered to unplug the iron. Being so distracted about Jack and all, she might have left it close to a towel.

And maybe…maybe instead of it being a terrible mistake, this could be her salvation if she worked it right. “I’ll bet it’s my curling iron,” she said. “I think I left it on by accident.”

“I smell it, too,” Jack said. “Those things are dangerous. The label says right on it that you shouldn’t leave it plugged in next to something flammable.”

“You left a curling iron plugged in?” Nick shouted. “How could you do that? Talk about irresponsible!”

Genevieve thought this was a definite case of the pot calling the kettle black, but all she did was shrug. “Stuff happens.”

“You are so much trouble.”

“Listen, you’d better send Jack to check it out. This is a rickety little old house. If a fire started in the bathroom, it would spread fast. We have good neighbors. They’d call the fire department, and then you’d have a hard time maintaining your hostage situation, with the house burning down around your ears.”

“The smell’s getting stronger,” Jack said.

“Damn it all.” Nick cleared his throat. “Okay, Farley, I’ll give you ten seconds to go check the bathroom and report back. If you’re not back in ten seconds I’ll cut off one of Genevieve’s fingers. Got that?”

“Twenty seconds,” Jack said.

“Ten.”

Jack ran down the hall, and Genevieve started counting, Mississippi one, Mississippi two, Mississippi three.

“There’s a fire!” Jack yelled from the bathroom.

“Put the damn thing out!” Nick screeched back at him.

Jack appeared in the doorway, looking scared. “Can’t. It’s too far gone.”

And sure enough, Genevieve could see the smoke now.

“Shit, look at that damned stuff,” Nick said. “Farley, go put it out.”

“I can’t. It’s spread too far.”

“Damn it! Now I gotta take Genevieve and get out of here!”

“Along with the chair?” Genevieve hoped the house wouldn’t burn down along with everything in it, but she supposed Mama would prefer that to having her daughter’s throat slit.

“No, not with the chair.” Nick tried to keep the knife against her throat while he fumbled with the knots he’d made with the dish towel, but as he worked on the knots, the smell of smoke got worse.

“Farley, you stay right where you are, or so help me, somebody’s gonna get hurt.”

“You don’t have to worry about a geek like me,” Jack said. “I’m no hero.”

“Good. Don’t step out of character and try to be one.”

Genevieve’s gaze locked with Jack’s, and she knew he was going to try something if Nick ever took the knife away from her throat. But she didn’t want Jack to get stabbed, either.

Be careful, she mouthed.

He gave no sign that he’d understood, or that he was worried about being careful. He had that intense expression that meant he was concentrating all his considerable brain-power on the problem. He’d also picked up the suitcase again, although she didn’t think it would make much of a weapon.

The smoke got worse, and there was a terrible smell along with it. She thought of her collection of carvings in her bedroom, but it wouldn’t matter if they all burned up if she and Jack survived.

As Nick continued to fumble and cuss, she glanced down. There was no way he’d be able to untie her one-handed, and the knife was sharp, but not sharp enough to cut right through a section of terry-cloth dish towel. Sawing would do it eventually, but that would take too long.

She held her breath, waiting for him to finally put down the knife. At last he set it right by his knee and wrenched at the knots.

Jack lunged, swinging the suitcase and bashing Nick in the face. Nick fell backward, away from the knife and up against the cabinets. Wood splintered. Then Jack dropped the suitcase and leaped on top of Nick.

As the thump of body blows and grunts of pain filled the small kitchen, Genevieve scooted her chair around so she could pick up the knife with her toes. Going barefoot all her life, she’d become very good at using her toes.

Holding the handle tight, she lifted her leg around the back of the chair. She had to grab it by the blade, and the sharp edge nicked her palm, but she was able to finally get hold of the handle with her other hand.

She slid the blade between the chair leg and her wrist and started sawing. The men had rolled away from the cabinets and Nick had his hands around Jack’s throat. Jack’s glasses lay crumpled over by the stove. Genevieve prayed as she’d never prayed in her life, and kept sawing.

Jack managed to throw Nick off just as she got one hand free. After slipping off the chair, she untied the second piece of towel and leaped to her feet.

Nick had Jack down, a knee in his chest and his fist raised to punch Jack in the face. Genevieve did the only thing she could think of—she grabbed the pepper shaker off the table, wrenched off the lid, and tossed the contents into Nick’s face.

As Nick gasped and choked, Jack managed to roll on top of him. A couple of blows from Jack’s fists, and Nick was out cold.

Breathing hard, Jack staggered to his feet. “Good…good thinking, Gen.”

“We…should call 911.” She picked up the phone off the table, dropped it once, and picked it up again. She dialed 811, hung up and dialed 711. Finally she managed to hit the nine.

She gave her name and address, and said there had been an assault and the house was on fire. They asked if she could stay on the line, but she said no and hung up.

“Gen, I’m going to stay by him and make sure he doesn’t come to. You’d better go see if you can turn on the shower and put out the fire. It should all be contained in the tub.”

She ran down the hall, waving away the smoke and stench. Once inside the bathroom, she found a tub full of smoldering ashes and a partially melted plastic shower curtain. The curling iron was in there, too, but it had only burned a small hole in one of Mama’s hand towels.

From what she could tell, Jack had used the packet of matches Mama kept next to a scented votive to start a fire in the wastebasket. Then he’d put the wastebasket in the tub. That fire had been the one to get Nick’s attention. She turned water on the whole thing, making a bigger mess, but at least it was all in one spot.

She hurried back to the kitchen. “You’re a genius,” she said.

“I know. Which is what worries you.”

“Not anymore, Jack.” She walked over and sat down on the floor beside him.

“What do you mean, not anymore?”

“This may not be the time or place.”

“If you’re going to tell me to get lost, there is no good time or place.”

“Not get lost,” she said. “I want you to stay found.”

He gazed at her. “Come closer. You’re blurry.”

She scooted in until her thigh touched his. “How’s that?”

“Better. Now say that again.”

“Jack, I’ve missed you something terrible the past few days. I’ve come to the conclusion that we go together like grits and gravy.”

“You have?”

She nodded. “I decided that if you didn’t remember the ice cream date, I wasn’t going to hold it against you.”

“But I remembered.”

“I know. Which makes you perfect.”

“Gen, I’m sure not perfect. I—”

“Perfect for me.” She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the mouth. Then she drew back. “That’s to hold us over until we can be alone again.”

He swallowed. “God, Gen, I—”

The sound of sirens cut him off.

“They’re here,” she said.

“Gen, I love you more than life itself.”

“Well, I love you even more than that, so there.”

“That’s not logical.” But Jack smiled as he said it, which made him look real cute, so she decided to kiss him again.

Later on, she realized that they must have given the officer who came into the kitchen quite a start. Down at the police station the officer admitted that he didn’t often come on a scene where folks were making out next to an unconscious perp.

Fortunately, once the whole story came out, and Matt and Mama and Lincoln showed up to add their two cents’ worth, neither Genevieve nor Jack had to hang around the police station.

Which was a good thing, because they had double-dip cones to buy. And a happily ever after to take care of.