Page 37 of Hard Focus
Not privy to her internal debate, Jonas continued their conversation. “You’re on the papers. It’s why I need you to go with me somuchsoshewon’t get suspicious.”
She stared at him in shock. “But you didn’t even know me when that happened.” She’d run the timeline in her head a hundred times, and knew she was right. They’d met, but that was all. Had scarcely exchanged numbers.
“I knew enough. Knew when I met you that it was a good match. You were strong, see? Strong and sure of yourself. Not likeher. Afterwards I learned she’d been protected her whole life, her brothers watching out for her. Just like every other bitch out there. Made me right to want to strip that from her. I made her see what it was like for the rest of us who had to make their own way. You though?” He scoffed and twisted to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning in as if he were going to kiss her. Repulsed at the idea, Connie drew away instinctively. He scowled, his brows drawing together sharply,andshe slowed her shiftawaybut managed to avoid the caress, skin pebbling with goose bumps at the thought of his mouth on her. “You were too strong to make me feel that way. That’s why you were a good match.”
“When you metme,when you first approached me, you didn’t know that, though, did you? You had no idea about me then.”
“So? You’re pretty. Then we hung out,butyou didn’t take any crap. There was a guy who backed into you, stepped on your foot.” Connie wracked her brain, but couldn’t remember the interaction, one of a thousand over the years of dancing in crowded clubs. “He tried to tell you to watch yourselfandyou shut him down.” There was admiration in his toneandhe smiled at her, that awful, unnatural expression resurfacing. “I knew. That’s all it took, and I knew.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand.” He reached for her face, dragging the ragged edges of his bitten nails down her cheek, scoring tiny scratches in her skin. The warped caress stung and burned, and Connie gasped in pain. His eyes changed, pupils dilating as he did it a second time, going back overalreadyroughened skin.
“Don’t.” Connie jerked away, and he lifted his top lip, bottom bowing in another one of his hideous smiles.
“See? Even now, you can’t stop yourself.” He tipped his head to one side and looked downat the handhe had propped on the bed. She followed his gaze and saw the knife in his hand, fingers white around the handle. “I hold all the cards, and you won’t let me do a thing past what you’re willing to take.” She movedandthe chain rattled. Without shifting his eyes, he snorted and said, “Except that, but you couldn’t argue then.” He jerked and sat upright, startling a cry out of her at his abrupt movement. “Call him.”
“I-I—” She cleared her throat and looked at the phone. There was a bright red Emergency Call button at the corner of the screenandher thumb hovered over it for a moment. “I don’t know the number.” Jonas rattled off a string of digits she assumed made up his PO’s number. “Okay.” Lifting the phone, she stared at his face, focusing on the tip of his ear as being the least dangerous. Everything was dangerous, sure, but if she could ride the edge of being aggressive enough to keep his violent tendencies in check without angering him irrevocably, she might get out of this alive.He could kill me. The knowledge chilled her and solidified her desire to get away.He really has gone crazy, she thought just before the ringing call connected, giving her a series of options. She pushed the one for the queue to talk to a real person.
They sat like that for minutes while she listened to bad renditions of good songs. Connie feltfloaty,as if she were untethered somehow. The entire situation seemed surrealandshe wondered for a moment if this was a bad dream, hoping it was something she could awaken from and be surprised at how real it had seemed. She shiftedandthe manacle dug into her ankle, biting at her skin.Not dreaming.
Jonas waspatientand obviously had spent time waiting to talk to whoever was going to pick up the phone—Connie had already forgotten the name the recording had said, information lostin the fear ofmaking a mistake—and Jonas tried to start a dozen conversations with her. Right or wrong, Connie ignored him as she would have before, focusing on the task at hand without allowing distractions.
Finally,the quality of the call changedandshe heard a click. Then a man’s low voice recited, “What’s your name, please?” soundingbored.
“My name’s Connie Rowe, but I’m calling for Jonas Thompson.”How do I make him know?There were no obvious ways to direct the conversation to a place where she could tell this stranger he was her only lifeline.I should have thought of something. Instead of planning what to do, she’d listened to the hold music and tried to stay calm.I’ve screwed it all up.
The tapping of keys marked another few seconds passing, then he asked, “The nature of your call, please.”
“I…uh, need to tell you how well he’s doing. He said Audrey Stewart made a complaint. I’m supposed to tell you she got it wrong. All wrong.” Connie dug into her memory, trying to find the exact words Jonas had used. “I’m trying to make it right. He said I could make it right.”
Silence, then the voice changed, alertness sharpening the tone until it pierced through her ears. “Miss Rowe, are you in danger?”
Oh my God, it worked. Heart pounding, she swallowed and quickly responded, trying to mask the real meaning of her words with a repeat of Jonas’ lines for her. “Yes, that’s what I need to tell you. Just that she got it wrong.”
“Is Thompson there with you?”
Yes, he is. Help me, please. The screams in her head never made it past her lips. Connie kept her voice steady and prayed the man would ask questions she could answer without Jonas catching on. “He doesn’t need to go back. He’s doing well. I’m trying to make it right.” She didn’t know what secret phrase would tell him exactly where she was, so she stuck to the tiny script Jonas had laid out for her. “Can you take care of that for me?”
“Miss Rowe, I’ve got his address. Can you tell me if that’s where you are?”
Yes. That was the right question. “Yes, that’s exactly right.” She stumbled in her delivery, but Jonas didn’t react. “Yes, thank you.”
“Okay, I’ve got the info.” His voice moved away from the phone,andhe called someone’s name urgently, then she heard him say, “Get the cops there. Jonas Thompson is holding a woman. I’m on the phone with her.” Louder, he asked, “Miss Rowe, are you injured?”
Shocked at his ingenuity, she tried to craft a coherent answer. “That would be perfect. Yes, it’s been quite a headache for him.”
“Roll an ambulance, too,” hesaid towhoever he was talking to. “Stay on the phone with me, ma’am. Long as you can. I’m here. Is there anyone else in the home? Is the child there?”
“How nice.” She smiled and nodded at Jonas who stared at her, impatience twisting his features. Brows drawn together again, his face was dark.Just another few seconds. “She is a lovely little girl. I can’t wait to see her again.”Please, God, let this work.
“Come on, Connie.” Jonas held his hand out. “Wrap it up.”
“Is that Thompson?” The man’s voice gained more urgency. “Tell him I want to talk to him.”
“Are you sure? That seems like a lot to ask.” Connie felt her lips tremble and pressed them together tightly. “It would be greatly appreciated, but I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Connie.” Jonas shifted on the bed, balancing the tang of the knife on his leg. He started digging in his pocket, finally coming with a small bundle of keys. He placed them on the covers between them. “Thank you.”
