05 Desperate Match Page 14

  Only she didn’t know how. It wasn’t as if she could pick up the phone and call Barbara Walters, right? Or even the local newspaper. She had no idea how these things were done. How had Jack managed to get so much media attention? No, she didn’t know, but suddenly she stood like a lollipop against Rowan. She didn’t know how to find the media, but she knew someone who did.

  * * * * *

  Jack’s grip on his phone whitened his knuckles. If he didn’t want answers so bad, he’d throw the phone through the window.

  “Mr. Thompson, what is the emergency?”

  He never knew who he was speaking to at the Messianic Militia. All the members he’d interacted with looked and sounded the same. If there was a hierarchy, he didn’t know it. All he knew was they were an organized group who’d guided him every step of the way so far. And they seemed to have money and connections.

  “It’s not working. My wife is still missing. And The Program isn’t saying or doing a damn thing. They’re ignoring us.”

  “Mr. Thompson,” the smooth voice said, “you were told to only call this number in the event of an emergency. As this is not an emergency, I’m hanging up now.”

  “Damn you! I want to know what you’re doing to get Jill back. Talk to me, or I’ll stop cooperating.”

  There was a long pause; then finally the man spoke. “Your media campaign is working. The Program may be keeping quiet, but we’re seeing signs we’re making progress. The protestors outside their gates are on our payroll. Things on the campus are on lockdown. Only one car has been leaving and returning to campus.”

  “Who’s in it? Where does it go?” he asked eagerly.

  Another long pause, and Jack worried he’d been hung up on.

  “We don’t know. The windows are too tinted, and our driver has been evaded each time. There’s no pattern either. Sometimes the car leaves in the morning and sometimes it doesn’t leave until the evening.”

  “Wow, they’re dusting you.” Jack nearly laughed.

  “Don’t be so amused. We will infiltrate the campus, and The Program will cease to exist.”

  Now there was a click, and Jack was left listening to radio silence.

  * * * * *

  “You want to what?” Loren stared at her from her curled–up position on her sofa. It was Sunday morning, and Jill had to be at work in an hour, but she’d been too anxious about her plan to let it fester any longer.

  Loren had returned from her honeymoon yesterday, so Jill felt doubly bad about bothering her, but she’d already been assured that Adam had been up and running with the teenagers by nine. Rowan’s sister–in–law had a way of making you feel welcome and as if you were the most important person in her circle.

  “I want to go the media,” she said. “If Jack can do it and get them all on his side, why can’t I?”

  Loren’s posture remained in the relaxed curl, but Jill saw a sudden tension enter her as if she were a cat who’d spotted a squirrel across the street. “You could,” she said. “It could work.”

  She got the sense that Loren was no longer talking to her, but thinking aloud. “You’d need a lot of media training and practice interviews. It could totally backfire…”

  “Uh, do you want to think about it, and let me know?” She made the offer because it looked like Loren was going to muse on it for a while, and she didn’t want to be late for work. Sundays at the store tended to be crazy, especially in the winter.

  “No. I can decide now, and yeah, I’ve decided. It’s a great idea. Let’s do it.” Loren sat forward and stared at her intently. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I came to you, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but do you understand what could happen, what it’s going to be like with the lights and cameras on you while getting grilled six ways from Sunday?”

  Her mouth opened, but Loren kept going. “I know you’ve got right on your side, but that only gets you so far, especially when public opinion is so heated on this issue.”

  “I can do it,” she said with a calm that hadn’t made it into her bloodstream yet. For now, it was a diaphanous idea floating temptingly in space.

  “Really? You’re ready to answer questions about your marriage? The abuse?”

  She winced.

  “Your sex life?”

  Another wince, this one caught by Loren.

  “I’m not asking to be mean. I’m asking to protect you. As your future sister–in–law, I’m here for you. So let’s be sure you’re ready before we throw you to the lions on camera. Okay?”

  She nodded weakly.

  “Think about it today at work; then we’ll meet up again tonight to discuss.”

  “Okay.” She stood to go, feeling a bit like a balloon that had blown loose from a child’s hand and gotten hung up in a tree. At the doorway, she spun back. “Do you mind if we keep this plan from Rowan?”

  At Loren’s concerned look, she hastily explained, “I’m afraid he’ll try to talk me out of it. He’s too protective of me. Ironic really, when you consider how Adam treats him.” The words tumbled out before she could recall them, and she realized how Adam’s wife could misconstrue the meaning.

  “I meant,” she said, trying to explain, but Loren smiled almost sadly.

  “I know. My husband is a little protective also. I’ve learned to navigate around him.” Loren frowned for another moment. “But you will tell Rowan, right?”

  Jill nodded. “Of course. I’m thinking I’ll tell him as we’re driving to the interview.” They shared a laugh. “I want to keep it to us for now. Okay?”

  Later that night, exhausted from a long busy day at work, Jill sat on a hard chair angled to face Doctor Samara Jones, also in a similar chair. Loren stood in front of them coaching and interjecting comments.

  During the day while she’d been at work, Loren had written a script of twenty–plus questions, all hard hitting, all designed to make her squirm. And as if the questions weren’t hard enough, the woman asking the questions was one cold bitch. At least she was doing a good impression of it. Jill hadn’t formally met Samara before, but she’d seen the doctor dance with her husband and son and considered her a good person. Therefore, she was taken aback by her professional tone the minute the questions started.

  She’d entered a conference room in the main office and chatted warmly with Loren and Samara, but the second the formal practice started, bam Samara turned into a great impression of Katie Couric grilling the president.

  “Can you describe your first contact with The Program?” Samara asked.

  “I contacted them,” she said. “It was wrong of me, but…”

  “Stop,” Loren interjected. “Don’t give them too easy a sound bite. They’ll edit it to make you confess to something you didn’t do.”

  “Oh.” She felt her cheeks heat. This was so much harder than she’d dreamed. It was nothing like she’d imagined where she’d tell her story to a rapt audience and win public perception to her side. “Sorry. Can we try again?”

  The door to the conference room opened and a tall man slipped inside the room. It took her a minute to recognize him, but then she saw it was Commander Shepard. Her nerves took a roller coaster plummet down the biggest drop.

  “How’s she doing?” The commander asked Loren in a quiet voice.

  “Great,” Loren said, and Jill relaxed a tad, until she noticed that Loren was noticing her. Was she really doing great, or had Loren said it for her benefit? Also, she hadn’t realized the Commander knew she was doing this. Maybe she should’ve been more specific about who else not to tell besides Rowan.

  “Have her ready,” Commander Shep said, then exited the room.

  “You are doing great,” Samara suddenly said, leaning over to pat her knee. “I know this isn’t easy, but you’re handling it.”

  The praise from the woman who’d moments ago seemed intent on wringing out her every emotion grounded her and bolstered her courage. Loren was ready to give it another go.


  “How come the Commander knows?” Jill asked, squinting into the light Loren had setup to shine on her. They hadn’t set up a practice camera yet, giving her a day to rehearse before things got real.

  “He’s the big man in charge,” Loren said. “Trust me, you don’t want to go to the media without his permission. We speak from experience.”

  Jill remembered that what she’d been told about Thea’s experience going to the press, and agreed. She didn’t want to break any rules, but suddenly the pressure was on in a way it hadn’t been before. When she’d gone to Loren with her idea, it had seemed an easy way to get the press off her back and maybe help The Program, thereby helping Rowan. Now, she was terrified, knowing the whole organization was counting on her not to screw up.

  She took a sip of the water placed for her convenience on the table in front of her, swallowed, then said, “Okay, let’s do this.” Loren had told her to keep her calm. No matter what they asked, no matter how she felt, calm and poised was the goal. Unless she wanted to insert a few tears at the memory of Jack’s abuse, then that would be okay. For now, she focused on calm. She still hadn’t managed to cry about her marriage without completely losing it and breaking into ugly, body wracking sobs. So not the on–camera goal.

  The rest of the practice session went okay. They’d have time for three more of these before she went live to Ronna Woods, the reporter Loren had managed to schedule for the interview. Apparently, it had been the easiest thing Loren had ever done. Media outlets were fighting for the right to an exclusive interview and offering money for the rights to her high school photos with Jack. It had never occurred to her that she could make money while giving an interview. She didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, she needed the money kind of desperately. On the other, she had a safe place to live and food to eat and a job. So many women didn’t have those things. Maybe she could use the money to help other women.

  Loren had selected Ronna Woods from all the offers, because Ronna was known for being tough but fair in her questioning. And she’d recently signed a deal with an online news organization so the interview could go viral on the Internet in addition to television. Loren had felt strongly about getting clips online.

  Finally, Loren called an end to the session. Mainly because Samara looked as though she was about to fall asleep in the chair.

  “How far along are you?” Jill asked.

  “Seven months,” she answered.

  “Do you know the gender?”

  Samara smiled and rubbed a palm on her distended belly. “No.” She laughed at Jill’s shocked look. “I know. No one can believe that I, a geneticist, am doing nothing for the baby. She won’t be enhanced.”

  “She?”

  “Gut instinct. Program enhanced babies are nearly always male. Since Chase isn’t enhanced and we aren’t a DNA match, our baby won’t be enhanced.

  “Wow. I didn’t know Chase wasn’t enhanced.”

  “Yeah, well you’re new on campus. All gossip reaches you at some point around here.”

  Jill could only imagine what people were saying about her. Maybe that was why Rowan hadn’t returned the inflatable air mattress. He knew their sex life would be the subject of gossip. She appreciated his discretion, but she wasn’t too bothered by being the center of attention. After six years of isolation, there was safety in numbers. If she’d been part of a tight–knit community, Jack wouldn’t have gotten away with beating her for all those years. She would’ve had a safety net.

  “Night, Jill,” Loren said. “Same time tomorrow?”

  “Sure, see you.”

  They rehearsed for the next few nights, and she awoke the Friday of the interview feeling more confident in her ability to stay on message, as Loren called it, and not to let Ronna’s demeanor throw her off her game. She still hadn’t told Rowan and planned on telling him this morning at breakfast, but Loren accidentally threw a bomb into the works when she approached.

  Jill was enjoying her scrambled eggs and working up the courage to tell Rowan her big news when Loren approached with an indecipherable look on her face.

  The tall blonde dropped into the extra chair at their table and spoke without a good morning. “Jill, I just heard from Ronna Woods. They want to make a slight change to the interview.”

  The eggs suddenly felt as if she were swallowing a hard boiled one. Whole. Her mock sessions had been going pretty well, and she felt pretty confident she could handle any changes they threw at her. Also, Rowan was still clueless, so she smiled brightly and said, “Sure thing. Let’s talk about it later.”

  Loren obviously didn’t specialize in telepathic speech and missed the signals Jill had thrown her way. She kept talking. “We need to make a final decision now. They need to know if we’re pulling out.”

  “Pulling out? No way.” She was fully aware Rowan had ceased eating and was watching the two women like a tennis match.

  “You might change your mind when you hear their proposal,” Loren said darkly.

  “What, they want to invite Jack to the interview?” she joked, then bit her lip and looked Rowan in the eye.

  “Yes,” Loren said.

  “I don’t know what the fuck you two are talking about, and I want to know. Now,” Rowan said before Jill could speak.

  Great, now she had Rowan to contend with as well as dealing with Loren’s major bomb. It was her own stupid fault. She should’ve told Rowan about the interview, but she knew he’d get all protective and try to talk her out of it. Every night they’d snuggled in bed and she’d open her mouth to confess, but nothing came out. And now she was going to pay the piper.

  “You haven’t told him yet?” Loren looked at her in amazement.

  “I…”

  “Told me what?” Rowan asked. His left fist gripped the table’s edge.

  “Loren has been prepping me to go on Ronna Woods’s show to be interviewed,” she said in a rush. “I was going to tell you, I swear.”

  “When?” His glower had her scrambling to remember his promise to never ever hurt her.

  “This morning. At breakfast.”

  “Okay,” he said. “It’s breakfast. Tell me more.”

  “It’s the best way to get the country off our backs,” she said. “No one knows my side of the story. They think I simply ran away. They don’t know Jack beat me.”

  “And you’re okay going on TV to tell the world?”

  She nodded. “If it will help The Program.”

  “What if I asked you not to do it?”

  She held his gaze, and her voice trembled, but she found the courage to say, “I’d do it anyway.” Breathing stopped being a primary function for a desperate few seconds before he spoke.

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Really?” She couldn’t believe he’d capitulate that easily. “I thought you were against it when I brought it up a few weeks ago.”

  “You’re an adult, Jill. You make your own decisions. And you obviously don’t think it’s necessary to share them with me.” He stood, shrugged on his coat, and grabbed his tray in one hand, heading to the exit.

  Oh, shit. She scrambled after him, abandoning Loren and her coat. She’d deal with interview changes later. Talking to Rowan and soothing his hurt feelings was more important. “Rowan, wait.” But he was already in the cafeteria entrance with the doorway open.

  She caught up to him on the path halfway between the cafeteria and the bachelor quarters. “Rowan, wait.”

  He spun to face her. “Why? Why should I wait for you? You never seem to wait for me. You got a job without giving a shit for my opinion, and now this. When do I rate, Jill? Or do you expect me to follow you around eating your trail of crumbs and pretending it’s cake?”

  Ouch. But he was right. She hadn’t treated him fairly, and he’d been nothing but good to her. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he wasn’t done.

  “I keep telling myself to be patient,” he said, “to not push you into a permanent relationship, and especially not in
to sex, but I can’t keep doing this, Jill.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, blinking back tears. His words hurt harder than any slap or punch from Jack. Yet nothing he said was anything but the truth. She hadn’t been fair to him.

  “I’m giving you all of me, but you’re only giving me pieces,” he said. “I want it all. With you.”

  She swallowed. A figurative crevice opened in the space between them and she could leap or cling to the edge. She’d been clinging to safety for too long. Maybe it was time to take a risk. With him.

  “What’s it going to be, Jill? Are you in this with me? Do you want to be my match?”

  She swallowed and leapt. “Yes. I’m yours, Rowan. I’ll do better. I promise.” She didn’t remember consciously stepping into his big body, but she was pressed against his strong body, and her tears slid down the high tech fabric of his winter coat. His lips found hers and they kissed for long minutes until the winter chill penetrated.

  Finally she pulled back. “I need to talk to Loren,” she said. “If they want Jack in the interview, we need to figure out what to do.”

  “Simple,” Rowan said, “you don’t go. I don’t want you on the same planet as Jackass, let alone the same television studio.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “But I worked so hard. I refuse to hide from him anymore. He’s the one in the wrong. Not me. He should be hiding, and maybe if I can change public opinion, he’ll have to.”

  He glowered, but said nothing, and let her hold his hand on the way back into the cafeteria to discuss all the details with Loren. It would be one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but she was determined to do the interview, and now face down Jack.

  * * * * *

  That evening, she was ready. Well, as ready as one could be when going on national television to confront her abusive husband.

  The car ride over had been amusing because Loren’s brother, Chase, did his best to crack jokes and put her at ease. Shep had forced Rowan, practically at gunpoint, to stay on campus. As he and Adam had been the ones to originally beat up Jack, they couldn’t be the ones to face him now, Shep had argued. So Chase and Xander were her bodyguards for the night. She wished Rowan was at her side, but she knew it was for the best he was safe on campus.