in Aspen, but none of them knew she had a famous father. Only Nat. Keeping the secret had been more of a burden than she’d planned on, and confiding in Nat had been a welcome relief.
“That Franklin, I guess he’s a real wheeler-dealer,” said the cabbie, obviously fishing for information. “I’ve also heard he’s tough to get along with.”
No joke, Jessica thought. Try having a different opinion from his and see what happens to you. The lights of the city were all around her now, with horns blaring and even more fumes coming up through the floor of the cab. Her head started to pound, and she closed her eyes to see if that might help.
“Someone did tell me that Franklin was hard to get along with,” Nat said. “But he seemed like a reasonable guy to me.”
Jessica’s eyes snapped open. Nat thought her father was reasonable? What sort of a turncoat was he, anyway? Her headache grew worse.
“So you two got along pretty well, then?” the driver asked.
“I think so,” Nat replied. “Anybody with that much power is bound to rub people the wrong way once in a while, and he makes for an easy target, but he struck me as a decent man who tries to do the right thing.”
Jessica couldn’t decide which was worse, the fumes or Nat’s praise of her father. Both of them were making her sick.
“And I also think the person who told me he was hard to get along with probably has some authority issues to work out,” Nat added.
Authority issues? What the hell did he know about it? Jessica’s automatic yelp of protest was halfway out before she remembered that nobody was supposed to know she was hiding in the back seat. She clapped her hand to her mouth, but it was too late.
“Jesus!” the driver cried. “Somebody’s in the—”
“You watch the road! I’ll handle it!” Nat climbed into the back seat and grabbed Jessica by the front of her jacket.
She was too stunned to speak.
Gasping for breath, he hauled her up to a sitting position, which knocked her glasses askew. She pushed them back into place and tried to keep from throwing up. The exhaust fumes had really made her nauseated.
“My God, it’s a woman,” Nat said in amazement.
“What’s a woman doing in my cab?” the driver babbled hysterically. “Is she armed?”
“I don’t know,” Nat said, breathing hard. “Are you armed?”
She shook her head, still trying to keep from tossing her cookies.
“She’s not armed,” Nat said to the driver. As his breathing slowed, he peered intently at her. Multicolored lights streamed in through the cab windows and slid across his face, making it difficult to read his expression. But he seemed to be studying her, as if trying to solve a riddle.
“I’m heading for the nearest cop shop,” the cabbie said.
“Don’t do that yet,” Nat told the driver quietly. “Let me see if I can find out what’s going on here.” He looked down at Jessica. “Where did you come from?”
She didn’t trust herself to open her mouth without losing her lunch, so instead she took off her glasses and gazed up at him.
He stared at her, stared at her hard. Then, while he kept his gaze locked on hers, he reached up with his free hand and hit the switch on the dome light.
She blinked in the glare of the overhead, but when she could once again meet his gaze, she saw the dawning recognition there.
“Jess?” he whispered.
She nodded. Then she scrambled for the window, rolled it down and threw up.
E NDLESS HUMILIATING moments later, Jessica was finally ensconced in the bathroom of Nat’s hotel room with the door locked. Swearing under her breath, she stripped down, pulled off her wig and stepped under the shower. In all the scenarios she’d played in her head about this meeting, none of them had included barfing.
Fortunately she’d only baptized the side of the cab and the sleeve of her coat. In the hullabaloo following her hurling incident, she’d been too embarrassed to be able to gauge whether or not
Learning to Kill: Stories