Free On Borrowed Time by Jenn McKinlay Page B

thought the phones were rolled over to my cell for late-night taxi calls.”
    â€œThey were, but since you didn’t answer your cell . . .” Ronnie’s voice trailed off and Sully dug his cell phone out of his pocket.
    â€œBattery died,” he said.
    â€œYeah, I figured,” Ronnie said. “This had better not be my date canceling. I had him on the hook for a lobster roll.”
    â€œHe wouldn’t dare,” Sully said. Which was true. Ronnie was a fearsome woman and Lindsey couldn’t imagine anyone canceling on her.
    â€œThumb Island Tours and Taxi,” Ronnie answered the phone. “How may I help you?”
    She listened for a moment and then frowned. She held out the phone to Lindsey. “It’s for you.”

“M e?” Lindsey asked as she put her coffee mug down and reached for the phone. She watched Ronnie give them all a little finger wave as she tucked her purse under her arm and trotted out the front door into the night.
    â€œHello?” Lindsey said into the phone.
    â€œLinds, it’s me,” Jack said.
    â€œJack!” she cried. Both Sully and Beth gave her wide-eyed looks. “Are you all right? Where are you? Are those the people who killed the man in my library? Who are th—”
    â€œLinds, I don’t have time,” he interrupted her. “Are you all right? I saw the explosion and I told them if anything happened to you . . .”
    His voice trailed off as if he couldn’t even bear to finish the sentence.
    â€œWe’re fine,” she said. “We were far enough away.”
    Jack made a sound like he’d been holding his breath for a very long time and was finally able to let it go.
    Lindsey lowered her voice and asked, “Jack, who were those people? What’s happening?”
    â€œYou have to let this go, Linds, for me. Don’t worry. It’s not like I’ve been taken to Camazotz—” His voice was cut off and a scuffle sounded. Lindsey got the sense the phone had been forcibly taken away from him.
    â€œJack!” she cried. “Jack!”
    â€œHe can’t talk to you now,” a voice said. It was a woman’s voice. Deep and sultry with an exotic accent, the woman sounded nonchalant, as if this sort of thing happened to her every day. “Do not call the police. Do not call anyone.”
    â€œOh, I’m calling the police, the Coast Guard, the FBI, you name it, I am calling them,” Lindsey snapped. “I want my brother back—now.”
    â€œIf you do that”—the woman’s voice dropped in tone, sounding suddenly weary—“your brother will die.”
    â€œIf you hurt him . . .” Lindsey growled through gritted teeth.
    â€œNot me, my husband,” the woman said. She paused as if giving Lindsey a second to absorb that. “Your brother and I are lovers. We are on the run from my husband. He is a very jealous man. He has already killed once, as you know, and you saw how he blew up our boat. We were lucky to get away. He will kill us if he finds us. Do you understand?”
    Lindsey was speechless. This was like something out of one of her favorite Robert Ludlum novels. This was not real life. How could this be happening? What sort of
married
woman had Jack gotten himself involved with?
    â€œDo you understand?” the woman asked. Her voice was now urgently imploring. “Your brother’s life is at stake.”
    â€œYes, yes, I understand,” Lindsey said. Although she really didn’t, not even a little.
    â€œGood. I know you don’t want to do anything that will help my husband find us.” The woman hung up.
    Lindsey stared at the receiver in her hand. The message was clear. Jack could be killed if she went for help. So there would be no police, Coast Guard or FBI, and she was left with no idea where her brother was or when she might see him again.
    â€œWell?” Beth cried,