Mysterious by Fayrene Preston Page B

this point, his life might have been a bit unusual, but no matter what, it had always made sense. He had always known why he was doing something. Now, though, the only thing he was sure of was that he couldn’t let Jennifer leave him. "You can pay me back later if it will make you feel any better. Frankly I couldn’t care less. It’s unimportant. For the time being it would be best if you stayed in the apartment, out of sight. I’ve got to get to the office for a meeting, but I’ll be back before lunch."
    "Wait a minute! You’re railroading me. I never said I’d stay here. I’m not sure I can. Last night, you said—"
    He broke in curtly. "Last night emotions were running pretty high. You have to admit, we hadn’t had what you might call your average garden-variety first date."
    Unexpectedly his voice turned coaxing. "Let me help you, Jennifer." Then, seeing her closed expression, he sighed and shook his head. "You really have no other choice, you know, because I’m not letting you out that door, at least not without me."
    He strode into the living room, and she followed, watching as he slipped his arms into his suit jacket. "Do you really think I’ll be safe here?"
    "I hope so, but I’ve got to tell you that if those men go back to that bar, there’s every chance they’ll find someone who knows my name. I’m afraid I’m fairly well known. It will take them a while, of course, and the bar doesn’t open until two in the afternoon, so we’ve got some time." He walked over to her and touched her cheek softly. "Don’t worry. You’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you."
    But will I be able to protect you? Jennifer asked silently. Aloud she called, "Jerome?"
    "What?" He had already turned away and was walking toward the door, but her voice brought him back a few steps.
    "C-could you bring a newspaper back with you?"
    "There’s a newsstand across the street. When we go shopping this afternoon, we’ll stop there and you can get one."
    For the hundredth time Jennifer glanced at the clock, then looked at the door. She could leave. She should leave. Her eyes lit on the giant wooden rocking horse, and she sighed. What was wrong with her? Jerome Mailer had held her in his arms, kissed her, and given her a desire for something that she knew could never be. And still she didn’t want to leave. This man, at this time, in this place, was all wrong for her. Yet here she was.
    It wasn’t rational, but she would stay with him, she decided—or at least she would as long as it was possible.
    As she admitted that disturbing fact to herself, the phone began to ring. Jennifer hesitated, listening to the persistent, shrill ringing. Four times, five times. Finally deciding it might be Jerome, she went to pick it up. "Hello?"
    "Jennifer," the raspy voice said, "listen to me. Let me help you. You’re in danger. I know—"
    She dropped the phone back onto its cradle. They had found her. They knew. She had to get out of there!
    But halfway to the door she stopped and slowly turned. Richard had told her that if anything ever happened, Wainright was the man to contact. But with that direction had also come the warning to be very careful of him. Hanging up had been pure instinct. Hearing his voice and realizing he knew where she was had shocked her. And that, added to the warning she had been given by Richard, was enough to make her panic.
    Resolutely she forced herself back to the phone. Despite all of her personal doubts, she knew what she had to do. Firmly grasping the phone, she picked up the receiver and dialed the eight-hundred number she had been told to commit to memory.
    "I’m sorry about hanging up on you," she said as soon as the phone was answered and she heard again the raspy voice. "Yes, and I know . . . I know I shouldn’t have panicked at the apartment, but I . . . yes, I was afraid and I wasn’t sure what to do. But . . . but I had to run. I was being followed! Two men. They—what?" There was only a