Just One Look
Chapter 46
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Grace dove toward him. "Jack? Jack?"
His eyes were closed. His hair was matted to his forehead. Her hands were still bound, but she was able to hold his face. Jack's skin was clammy. His lips were dry and caked over. There was duct tape around his legs. A handcuff hung around his right wrist. She could see scabs on his left wrist. It had been cuffed too, for a long time judging by the marks.
She called his name again. Nothing. She lowered her ear to his mouth. He was breathing. She could see that. Shallow, but he was breathing. She shifted around and put his head in her lap. Her rib pain screamed but that was irrelevant now. He lay flat on his back, her lap his pillow. Her mind fell back to the grape groves in that vineyard in Saint-Emilion. They'd been together about three months by then, totally infatuated, jammed neatly in that sprint-across-the-park, thumping-of-the-heart-whenever-you-see-the-person stage. She packed some pate, some cheese, wine of course. The day had been sun-kissed, the sky the kind of blue that made you believe in the angels. They'd lain down on a red tartan blanket, his head in her lap like this, she stroking his hair. She'd spent more time staring at him than the natural wonders that surrounded them. She'd traced his face with her fingers.
Grace made her voice soft, tried to ease up on the panic.
"Jack?"
His eyes fluttered open. His pupils were too large. It took him a moment to focus, and then he saw her. For a moment his caked lips cracked into a smile. Grace wondered if he too was flashing back to that same picnic. Her heart burst, but she managed to smile back. There was a serene moment, no more, and then reality flooded in. Jack's eyes widened in panic. The smile vanished. His face crumbled into anguish.
"Oh God."
"It's okay," she said, even though that was about as dumb a statement as one could make under the circumstances.
He was trying not to cry. "I'm so sorry, Grace."
"Shhh, it's okay."
Jack's eyes searched like beacons, finding their captor. "She doesn't know anything," he said to the man. "Let her go."
The man took a step closer. He bent down on his haunches. "If you speak again," he said to Jack, "I will hurt her. Not you. Her. I will hurt her very badly. Do you understand?"
Jack closed his eyes and nodded.
He stood back up. He kicked Jack off her lap, grabbed Grace by the hair, and pulled her to a standing position. With his other hand he clutched Jack by the neck.
"We need to take a ride," he said.
His eyes were closed. His hair was matted to his forehead. Her hands were still bound, but she was able to hold his face. Jack's skin was clammy. His lips were dry and caked over. There was duct tape around his legs. A handcuff hung around his right wrist. She could see scabs on his left wrist. It had been cuffed too, for a long time judging by the marks.
She called his name again. Nothing. She lowered her ear to his mouth. He was breathing. She could see that. Shallow, but he was breathing. She shifted around and put his head in her lap. Her rib pain screamed but that was irrelevant now. He lay flat on his back, her lap his pillow. Her mind fell back to the grape groves in that vineyard in Saint-Emilion. They'd been together about three months by then, totally infatuated, jammed neatly in that sprint-across-the-park, thumping-of-the-heart-whenever-you-see-the-person stage. She packed some pate, some cheese, wine of course. The day had been sun-kissed, the sky the kind of blue that made you believe in the angels. They'd lain down on a red tartan blanket, his head in her lap like this, she stroking his hair. She'd spent more time staring at him than the natural wonders that surrounded them. She'd traced his face with her fingers.
Grace made her voice soft, tried to ease up on the panic.
"Jack?"
His eyes fluttered open. His pupils were too large. It took him a moment to focus, and then he saw her. For a moment his caked lips cracked into a smile. Grace wondered if he too was flashing back to that same picnic. Her heart burst, but she managed to smile back. There was a serene moment, no more, and then reality flooded in. Jack's eyes widened in panic. The smile vanished. His face crumbled into anguish.
"Oh God."
"It's okay," she said, even though that was about as dumb a statement as one could make under the circumstances.
He was trying not to cry. "I'm so sorry, Grace."
"Shhh, it's okay."
Jack's eyes searched like beacons, finding their captor. "She doesn't know anything," he said to the man. "Let her go."
The man took a step closer. He bent down on his haunches. "If you speak again," he said to Jack, "I will hurt her. Not you. Her. I will hurt her very badly. Do you understand?"
Jack closed his eyes and nodded.
He stood back up. He kicked Jack off her lap, grabbed Grace by the hair, and pulled her to a standing position. With his other hand he clutched Jack by the neck.
"We need to take a ride," he said.
