In Plain Sight (Sisterhood #25) - Fern Michaels Page 0,51

States with us.”

“No, no! You can’t make me go back there. I have dual citizenship. My mother was French. You can’t make me go with you.”

Jack whipped out a small, wicked-looking switchblade from his key ring and brandished it in the air. “What part of ‘we are taking you back to the States with us’ didn’t you understand? You caused some very nice people a lot of trouble. You’ll have to answer for that, not to us but to the people you harmed. Now, do what I say and pack your stuff. Or, leave it. The choice is yours.”

Jack nodded to Harry to call the pilot to tell him they were on the way. “Then go downstairs and have the lady call us a taxi.”

Jack watched as Petrie pulled a Gucci suitcase out from under the bed. He continued to watch as she threw her belongings in any old way, her toiletries on top of the mess. She closed the suitcase, locked it, and stared defiantly at Jack.

“Give me your passport,” Jack said.

“I will do no such thing.” Jack waved the switchblade in front of her. She swallowed hard but remained defiant.

“Last chance,” Jack said, advancing on her.

“I want a lawyer! I have rights!”

“I bet you do. Want a lawyer that is. You have no rights. I just took them away. Now, hand over the passport, or you’re going to be minus an ear.”

One look at Jack’s determined expression, and Petrie backed up a step and groped on the unmade bed for her purse. With one eye on Jack and the other on her purse, she fumbled until she found the passport. She handed it over, her hands shaking.

Jack looked down at the blue cover on the passport—American. “Now give me your French passport. What? You thought I was stupid. Well, shame on you. C’mon, hand it over.”

Petrie knew then that she was beaten. She fumbled some more in the oversize purse that could have passed for an overnight bag or a backpack and finally withdrew her rouge-colored French passport. She handed that over, too.

Jack skimmed through it as well as the American one. Many stamps on both. Well, Miss Jane Petrie’s traveling days were coming to a close. He jammed both passports into his jacket pocket and pulled the zipper to assure they remained safe and sound.

“Let’s go. You get to carry your own suitcase. Try anything funny, and you’ll regret it. My colleague is waiting at the bottom of the steps, so be fair warned. Do not talk, do not scream, just act normal. One peep out of you, and, like I said, you will regret it. And if you think for one minute that the taxi driver is going to help you, you’re wrong. What’s it going to be, lady? Decide now.”

“Okay, okay,” Petrie said through clenched teeth.

“Good choice. This might be a good time to tell you that Lincoln Moss has people tracking you down. So far tonight, we are one step ahead of them. If you’re smart, you’ll want to keep it that way.” Petrie nodded.

Seventy minutes later, Jack and Harry ushered Jane Petrie up the portable steps to Anna de Silva’s Gulfstream. Harry carried the Gucci bag and stored it beside the stewardess’s jump seat.

Ten minutes later, they were wheels up and headed back to the good old United States.

While Petrie sulked and cried, Jack and Harry were busy sending texts. Their ETA was sunup.

Mission accomplished.

It was raining the proverbial cats and dogs when Dennis West parked his car in the Home Builders Depot parking lot to wait for Jason Woods. He really wanted to be with Maggie, Ted, and Espinosa at the airport to greet Jack, Harry, and their guest. He’d spent a sleepless night worrying about Jason and Stacey. He had to put their minds at ease and warn them once again to be careful. Their peace of mind won out, and here he was. He didn’t even know if Jason or Stacey knew that the two women were gone. The only way they could know, he thought, was if Stacey stopped by the house before work. He seriously doubted that had happened because mornings were hectic, traffic was a bear, and she knew when she left last evening that the women were safe and secure. Possibly she might take a run by on her lunch hour to check on them, but he didn’t really see that happening either.

Dennis looked down at his watch; it was twenty-five minutes past seven. Both employees

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