Repairman Jack [02]-Legacies

"I hear anger looking for a target. I know this has really cut you deep, Gia, but I'm not the bad guy here."

"Oh, I know, I know. It's just—you've never been down there. Never seen these kids. Never held them. Jack, they've got nothing. Not even a parent who cares, let alone a future. We were collecting those toys so they'd have a nice Christmas, a great Christmas—the last Christmas for a lot of them. And now—"

Another sob.

Jeez, this was awful. He had to say something, do something, anything so she wouldn't feel like this.

"Do you know what the presents were? I mean, do you have some sort of a list. Because if you do, just give it to me and I'll replace—"

She pushed back and stared at him. "They were donations, Jack. Most of them all wrapped up and ready for giving. Replacing them's not important. Getting them back is. Understand?"

"Yes… and no."

"Somebody's got to find these guys—the ones who did this—and teach them a lesson… make an example of them… a very public example. Know what I mean?"

Jack fought to suppress a grin. "I think so. You mean, make it so that the next creep who gets the same idea will think twice, maybe three times before he decides to go through with it."

"Exactly. Exactly."

With exaggerated innocence—and still fighting a smile—he said, "And, um, just who could we be thinking of to make such an example?"

"You know damn well who," she said, fixing him with those eyes.

"Moi?" And now he had to grin. "But I thought you didn't approve of that sort of thing."

"I don't. And I never will. But just this once…"

"… you could live with it."

"Yes." She turned away and folded her arms across her chest. "But just this once."

She began wandering around his living room, aimlessly tracing her fingers across the golden oak hutch, the rolltop desk where he kept his computer…

"But, Gia—"

"Please," she said, raising her hand. "I know what you're going to say. Please don't start pressing me for some sort of moral and philosophical consistency between not marrying you because of what you do and then coming to you when there's a problem that looks like it can only be solved by your kind of tactics. I've been battling that all morning—I mean, trying to decide whether I should even mention it to you. Even in the cab, I was ready to tell him to turn onto Fifty-ninth and forget the whole thing—"

"Oh, great," he said, stung. "That really hurts. Since when is it that you can't come to me for anything?"

She stopped and looked at him. "You know what I mean. How many times have I mouthed off about this 'Repairman Jack' thing?"

"About a million." More like three million, he thought, but what's a couple of million between friends?

"Right. And about how it's stupid and dangerous and violent and dangerous and how if you don't end up dead you're going to wind up in jail for the rest of your life. And I haven't changed my opinion one bit. So you can imagine how this thing must have got to me if I'm asking you to fix it."

"All right," he said. "I won't say another word about it."

"Maybe not now, but I know you will later."

Jack raised two fingers. "I won't. Scout's honor."

"I think that takes three fingers, Jack."

"Whatever. I promise I won't." He reached for her hand. "Come on over here."

She took his hand and he pulled her onto his lap. She settled on his thighs, light as a feather, and they kissed—not a long one, but long enough to warm him up.

"There. That's better. Now… let's get down to practicalities. Who's hiring me?"

"I spoke to Dr. Clayton—she's the acting director."

Jack felt his insides tighten. "You told her you know me?"

He'd warned Gia about that. Never let on you know me—to anyone. Even your best friend. He'd made too many enemies over the years. And if one of them thought he could get back at him through Gia… or Vicky…

He shuddered.

"No," Gia said. "I said I knew of someone who might be able to help get the toys back. Didn't mention any names. Just said I'd try to contact him and see if he was available."

Jack relaxed. "I guess that's okay."

Still, if he got involved in this, it would leave a link—at least in this Dr. Clayton's mind—between Gia and a guy named Jack who "fixed" something. Probably be okay, but he didn't like it.

"Well?" she said.

"Well what?"

"Are you available?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"Well, there's a problem. I mean, the Center can't hire me, because I can't work for a legit business. They've got to account for their expenses, and I don't exactly take checks."

He didn't even have a social security number.

"Don't worry about it. I'll pay you."

"Oh, right. Like I'll take money from you."

"No, I mean it, Jack. This is my idea. I want this. What's your usual and customary fee?"

"Forget it."

"No, I'm serious. Tell me."

"You don't want to know."

"Please?"

"Oh, all right." He told her.

She gaped at him. "You charge that much?"