When she sent him away, Gary had looked lost and at loose ends, a feeling she understood all too well. She’d loved her husband, grieved for him—and now she was so terribly lonely. Since Gary was lonely, too, it’d seemed like a simple act of kindness to ask him over for dinner. A way of reciprocating after all his help. Deep inside, she’d known her invitation was more than a courtesy, more than a gesture of friendliness or compassion. He was engaged; she should avoid any social involvement. But she craved his companionship, his presence. She’d debated the wisdom of it all morning, then thrown caution to the wind and put the burden of refusal on his shoulders. The quickness of his acceptance had calmed her worries. If he didn’t think there was anything wrong with having dinner at her house, she didn’t have to be concerned, either.

She couldn’t have been more surprised when he kissed her that night. And in all honesty she couldn’t have been more pleased. She reminded herself that it was wrong to feel like this. And what about Brice? Had she set him up for heartache, too? He and Gary had talked baseball all through dinner, and Brice had talked about Gary constantly ever since. It was Gary this and Gary that. Nor had it hurt any that Gary had spent an hour playing catch with her son. It was almost as if he’d come to her house to visit Brice—not that Marjorie minded in the least.

“I think we should marry him,” her son had announced when she tucked him into bed that night.

“Brice, I barely know the man.”

“Then invite him back.”

How easy this courtship and marriage business was to a nine-year-old boy. “He’s already engaged.”

Brice’s eyes widened. “You mean he’s gonna marry someone else?”

“It looks that way.”

“You gotta do something, Mom.”

“Any suggestions?” she asked facetiously.

He frowned and shook his head. “Cook for him again. He really liked your lasagna.”

Even now, Marjorie couldn’t prevent a smile as she recalled his comment. It sounded like the corny old-fashioned advice her grandmother used to dispense.

“Mom! Mom!” Brice burst through the door from baseball practice. “Where are you?”

Marjorie glanced at the clock, surprised that practice was already over. No, it was eleven-thirty, later than she’d realized. “In here,” she called.

“You’ll never guess what!”

“Probably not,” she agreed, forcing herself to smile.

“I saw Gary out front.”

“Gary Franklin?”

“He was sitting in his car and he looked pretty miserable. Did the two of you have a fight or something?”

Marjorie wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Um, not really.”

“I asked him to come inside, but he said he couldn’t. I was hoping he’d have time to play catch with me, but he said he had to get home. Then you know what he did? Can you guess?” Brice’s eyes blazed with excitement. “He gave me his Ken Griffey, Jr., signed rookie card. Gave it to me, Mom.” Her son held up the card as if he was holding a map for buried treasure. “Is that the coolest thing that’s happened to me in my entire life or what?”

“He gave you the card?” Marjorie wanted to make certain she hadn’t misunderstood him.

“For free,” Brice assured her.

“Did…did he say why?”

“No, just that he wanted me to have it.” Brice grew quiet then. After a moment he said, “I still think we should marry him. I loved Dad and everything, and I miss him a lot, but I think he’d like Gary, too.”

Marjorie had felt the same thing herself.

“Will you?” Brice asked, looking up at her. “Marry him, I mean?”

Luckily the phone rang before she had a chance to respond. Brice charged across the room as if answering the phone before it rang a second time was a matter of dire consequence.

He listened for a moment, then said, “It’s for you.” He handed her the portable receiver.

“Hello,” she said, wishing she’d asked Brice to take a number so she could return the call. She wasn’t in the mood for a chatty conversation with one of her friends from the bank or, worse, a spiel from a telephone solicitor.

Her disinterested greeting was met with a moment of silence. She was about to check the phone’s batteries when she heard, “It’s Gary.”

Now it was her turn to lapse into silence.

“Listen,” he said. She could hear traffic sounds; he was obviously calling from his car. “I don’t want you to quit Med-X. If you refuse to work with me anymore, I’ll understand. You can report to a different supervisor. I’ll—”

“It isn’t that.”

“I’ll request a transfer on Monday morning. You won’t have to see me again.”

Marjorie felt an immediate sense of loss. She wanted to see Gary, considered him her ally and friend. Her intense attraction to him had nothing to do with that. The thought of working at Med-X and not being able to go to him with her problems devastated her. No one else was as patient, as understanding. Not only that, she’d taken over the territory he’d covered before his promotion. She’d found his advice invaluable in dealing with his former clients. Half her success was actually due to him.

“Don’t do that, Gary,” she whispered.

Being a perceptive child, Brice left the room.

“Could we talk?” Gary asked.

“I…I don’t think so.” Marjorie couldn’t see that it would do any good. She’d only want him to kiss her again and didn’t know if she could disguise her feelings, especially outside the office.

“I’m an idiot,” Gary said. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“It isn’t you, it’s me.”

“I should never have kissed you.”

Marjorie closed her eyes. “It was what I wanted.” What she’d dreamed about for weeks.

“You did?”

“It isn’t a good idea for us to talk except at work,” she felt compelled to say. “It’s better for us both if we nip this in the bud and not see each other again. I’ll draft my letter of resignation over the weekend.”

“You’re serious about quitting Med-X?”

“Yes.”

“Even if I request a transfer?”

“Yes.” The temptation to stay was strong, but she couldn’t let him uproot his life because of her. He’d been with the company far longer than she had. Her leaving was the fairer alternative. Briefly she considered asking for a transfer herself, but knew she’d still see him at the quarterly sales conferences and at other company events. Anyway, she couldn’t tear her son away from his school, his friends, his familiar surroundings.

“Then I guess there’s nothing I can do, is there? If you think of something, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”

“Oh, Gary…” She felt like crying.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked once more.

“No,” she whispered. She turned off the phone.

Jack had witnessed terror in his life, seen it on the faces of others, even been the cause of it. But nothing from his past could have prepared him for what he felt when he saw Lorraine race across the highway with her hands bound.

As soon as he’d learned that Jason Applebee had tricked Thomas into giving him information about Lorraine, Jack had tried to reach her at the hotel. When there was no answer in her room, he hurried back. By pure luck he caught sight of her in the rear seat of a black car. Two men in front. Even a fleeting glance told him the driver was Carlos. The other had to be Jason. In a moment of craziness, Jack found a man with a vehicle and paid him an outrageous amount of money for the use of it.

Still, he was too far behind Carlos and Jason to catch more than a glimpse of the car as they sped through the streets and past the shantytowns that bordered the city. Somewhere along the way he lost sight of the car and drove around frantically, searching with no success. Then he’d taken the jungle road, and that was when he happened upon Lorraine. Carlos wasn’t far behind. Jack saw him run into the trees at a different angle.

He slammed on the brakes and leaped out of the vehicle, racing after Carlos. He had no weapon. No gun. Not even a knife. But his intuition told him any delay would mean Lorraine’s death. If his lack of weapons meant he died defending her, then so be it.

The jungle was impossibly thick, and Carlos was nowhere to be seen. Jack soon found what Lorraine must have discovered. A few yards into the dense vegetation, was the edge of a cliff. The river twisted around the jagged rocks below. Jack had never been fond of heights and stepped cautiously back.

Lorraine’s scream propelled him into action and he fought his way toward her.

Carlos had her on the ground. Despite her struggles, he’d managed to rip off her blouse and in the process beaten her nearly senseless. Her face was bloody, her eyes swollen shut, and still she fought him, still she struggled.

Jack had never loved her more or admired her courage as much. With a cry that came from deep within his throat, he launched himself at Carlos.

Swinging around as he crouched over Lorraine, Carlos pointed a gun directly at him. To Jack’s astonishment, Lorraine heaved herself up from the ground and slammed her head into Carlos’s arm. The gun flew out of his hand and into the trees.

The reprieve was all Jack needed. He charged the other man, throwing him off Lorraine, but the force of the attack stole his breath. The wound in his shoulder had only partially healed, and his stamina and strength were much lower than normal.

What Jack lacked in brute strength, he compensated for with skill and finesse, punching Carlos repeatedly on his injured arm.

The man grunted with pain and returned the favor, barreling his ham-size fist into Jack’s bandaged shoulder.

Pain spiraled down Jack’s arm and he fell to his knees in agony. For an instant the world went black as he dealt with the crippling pain.

“You bastard!” Lorraine shouted at Jack’s tormented cry. With a shout of outrage, she flung herself at Carlos, shoving him off balance.

Carlos staggered, then whirled around, ramming her into a tree. She slumped, unconscious, against its base. Her action—her courage—gave Jack time to let the stars dissolve from his eyes.

As soon as he could, he entered the fray again, going after Carlos with a vengeance. Carlos didn’t wait for Jack, but raged after him, knocking him off his feet. He had the superior strength, but Jack was fighting for Lorraine’s life as well as his own.

They broke apart and circled each other. Jack’s eyes held the other man’s, letting him know that this would be a fight to the end. Either he died or Carlos died. There could be no compromise.

In his weakened condition, Jack knew Carlos had the advantage. His strength would only hold out for so long. He’d lose, and when he did, the bastard would kill Lorraine.

Carlos lunged for him first, and they ventured dangerously close to the cliff’s edge. Jack heard the rush of the water below. One wrong move and he’d fall to a certain death.