Part 25 (1/2)
”Nick?” Gen sounded terrified, and Jack didn't blame her one d.a.m.ned bit. This was the stuff nightmares were made of.
”I had hoped the same thing about you two,” Brogan said. ”But here you are, anyway, so I'll have to kill you again, apparently.”
”Nick, why are you here?” Gen's eyes were wide, as if she was in shock.
”There's always a snake in paradise,” Jack said. He hated hearing Brogan's first name coming out of Gen's mouth, hated thinking about the plans she'd had for the slimeball. Once his nausea pa.s.sed, rage moved in. Even without his gla.s.ses, he was sure he'd be able to find the exact spot on Brogan's throat where his thumbs needed to go. Choking him to death would be easy, and oh so satisfying.
”I'm not any happier to see you two than you are to see me,” Brogan said. ”I was hoping you were a couple of birdwatchers, somebody who would have a boat. Somebody with food and water.”
Jack thought of the small amount of water and the five guavas in the suitcase. There was no reason for Brogan to think they had anything to eat or drink, and Jack planned to keep it that way as long as possible. ”Sounds like somebody ruined your little party.”
”Stupid a.s.sholes are probably circling one of the other islands and wondering why I'm not there. They have the brains of termites.”
”It's so hard to get good help these days.” Although Jack's dearest wish was to rush the guy and grab the gun, he couldn't guarantee Gen wouldn't get shot in the process. He remembered what it felt like to have a gun barrel shoved against his temple. He didn't want to make any moves that would scare her even more.
Brogan nodded toward the suitcase. ”I see you still have that dorky suitcase. How in h.e.l.l did you make it out alive, let alone save that ridiculous suitcase? You couldn't possibly have landed the plane.”
”Ha! Jack did land the plane.” Gen's fire seemed to be returning. ”And then he saved my suitcase. And don't you dare insult my luggage, you murdering, lying-”
”Oh, you can't call me a murderer yet, Genevieve.” Brogan tightened his arm around her neck. ”You're both still alive. But I'll be taking care of that detail shortly. I just need a little more time.”
”Time isn't going to help,” Jack said. ”Your whole program has been s.h.i.+t-canned, and you know it. You can't leave behind a couple of dead bodies with bullets in them that could be traced to you.”
”I always knew you were a genius, but I'm no slouch myself. I figured that one out, which is why you're both still breathing the cool salty air.”
”You're looking a little ragged around the edges, Brogan.” Jack's vision might be blurry, but he could see that the guy's presentation had taken a hit. His Italian shoes were gone, probably kicked off during his swim to sh.o.r.e. He must have deep-sixed his jacket for the same reason, because it wasn't in evidence, either. His imported silk s.h.i.+rt and slacks were ripped and stained.
Brogan stiffened. ”Nothing that a few days in Fiji won't cure.”
Jack detected a little bit of belligerence, a crack in Brogan's layer of suave confidence. Gen might be right about this grooming thing affecting how people thought of you, because Jack had trouble believing that Brogan, looking the way he did, would end up on a beach in Fiji sipping an umbrella drink.
Without the advantage of Gen's sunscreen, the guy's face was all blotchy except for a few bristly patches of hair. Apparently Brogan couldn't grow much of a beard. The previously worthy babe magnet resembled something the cat had dragged in. By comparison, Jack felt like a stud.
While this pleased him no end, he decided not to make any more remarks about Brogan's appearance. The maniac's vanity might override his logic and Jack would end up with a bullet in his brain because he was sporting a better look.
”Tell you what,” Brogan said. ”Let's move this little party down to the beach, so I'll be able to see if and when those two morons show up. Farley, you first. If you try anything, Genevieve becomes one dead secretary. Disposing of the body is a problem, but not a huge problem, so don't test me.”
”Hey, I'm a computer geek, not a hero.” Jack stepped onto the sand and gave Gen a rea.s.suring glance as he moved past her.
”I've been counting on that,” Brogan said. ”Which is why I can't figure out how you landed the-hold on. You've flown simulations, haven't you, you son of a b.i.t.c.h!”
”He was wonderful,” Gen said. ”He kept his head and saved our lives.”
”Temporarily,” Brogan said.
”I was lucky that I didn't kill us both in that plane.” As much as Jack enjoyed having Gen sing his praises, he didn't want Brogan to think of him as a threat. The chances of catching Brogan off guard were better that way.
”It was more than luck,” Gen said. ”I don't know many folks who could have done what Jack did. He was cool as a lemonade jug floating in the crick.”
”I was a basket case,” Jack said. ”It's a miracle I held onto the controls.”
”So it's Jack now, is it?” Brogan said, a sneer in his voice.
”All my friends call me that.”
”Not that I ever heard. How interesting. And, Genevieve, you're sounding like a little hillbilly! I always wondered if you were what you pretended to be. Seems a little of the polish has worn off.”
”I'd rather be a hillbilly than a slimy excuse for a-”
”Now, now.” Brogan tightened his grip on her neck. ”Better watch yourself, little girl. I'm sure Jack doesn't want you dead any sooner than necessary. I have the feeling you two have become much better acquainted since I last saw you.”
Now there was a subject Jack really didn't want to get into. ”Are you kidding, Brogan? Do you think a good-looking chick like Gen would have anything to do with a nerd like me?”
”Good point. I suppose she's grateful that you saved her life, but not that grateful. Right, Genevieve, sweetheart?”
”A man like Jack is a darn sight preferable to a toad-sucker like you.”
”Well, d.a.m.n.” Brogan's laugh had a crazy edge to it. ”I guess this means the offer of a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b has been rescinded.”
Gen made a noise low in her throat.
Jack was afraid she might let her temper get the better of her, so he decided to change the subject. ”What kind of boat do your pickup guys have?”
”Why, you gonna help me keep a lookout? How Christian of you.”
”In case you hadn't noticed, we're stranded on this island, too,” Jack said. ”Getting picked up by a couple of stupid bad guys is better than not getting picked up at all.”
”Or so you think. Okay, what the h.e.l.l. They have an old beat-up trawler, dirty white with green trim. I thought a fis.h.i.+ng boat would be less conspicuous, and they looked like they could use the money.”
”And they had the conscience of a c.o.c.kroach, just like you,” Gen said.
”Well, I guess the romance is definitely over between us,” Brogan said. ”Okay, we're close enough to the water-line now. Genevieve and I will sit on this lava rock and make ourselves comfy.”
Jack tried to think of some way he could get Brogan to point the gun away from Gen. He came up blank.
”Farley, you stay right there and open the suitcase so I can find out if there's anything useful in there.”
”There's not a blessed thing in there that you'd want,” Gen said.
”There must be something of value, Daisy Mae, or you wouldn't have asked Lil Abner to haul it all the way from the other side of the island.”
”Maybe we happen to like this suitcase,” Jack said.
”Well, that figures with a couple of losers like you. And I have to tell you, Farley, that wearing it like an oversized purse does nothing for the castaway look you have going.”
Oh, what a great opening for a slam. Jack had to really control himself. He wished Gen could get a gander at her former dreamboat, but Brogan kept a tight arm around her neck and the gun right up against her temple.
”Dump the stuff on the sand, Farley.”