Alias. Amy J. Fetzer

to you, Piper.”

      “Why?”

      He pulled out a chair and sat, sipping his coffee. “If I have to say, then you’re not as smart as I thought.”

      She met his gaze and wondered why she always felt stripped naked when he was near. “Must you stare?”

      “You’re an exceptionally pretty woman, why shouldn’t I stare?”

      She gave him a dry look. “It’s confirmed, your taste is all in your mouth. I look like a drowned rat.” She fluffed her hair and Jack leaned over the table.

      “Why is it so hard for you to take a compliment?”

      She met his gaze head on. “I haven’t had many.”

      His eyebrows shot up and those intense eyes roamed her body from feet to hair. “Maybe they didn’t have the guts to say.”

      “Why would you think that?”

      “It could be the barrier around you that’s better than a castle wall.”

      She looked him over, liking what she saw too much. “A girl has to protect herself from those unseemly types.”

      “Ouch.”

      She motioned him close and he set aside the coffee and came to her. “Here’s where you come in. I’d take off your jacket if I were you.”

      He stripped out of the bomber jacket and hung it on a peg by the back-porch door with his hat. His T-shirt stretched tight across those massive shoulders and bulging muscles and Darcy almost lost her train of thought just looking at him.

      He arched an eyebrow, the look saying he caught her staring. Hurriedly, she slipped on a headband that pulled her hair back off her face, then wrapped her hair in a turban.

      “Unattractive, I know.” She sat in the kitchen chair. “I’m going to apply the first layer, but when I get to the places around my nose and mouth and ears, can you do the rest?”

      “Sure. Just tell me how.”

      She explained that there couldn’t be any air pockets and to tap the plaster lightly to get them out. “And I won’t be ignoring you if you talk—I can’t answer, lip movement destroys the details.”

      She scooped up a blob of the plaster and started smearing it over her hairline, her jaw, throat and then down onto her chest.

      “That far?” he said.

      That was why she wore the strapless top. When she’d covered nearly all of her face, she inserted two straws into her nose so she could breathe, then motioned for him to add more. Jack rolled up his sleeves and spread plaster.

      She had a notepad on her lap and a pencil to scribble advice. She felt his touch, the gentleness of it belying his big hands as he made sure the plaster was in and around her ears, and then down on her throat and lower.

      Don’t get fresh, she wrote when his hand smoothed over the swells of her breasts. Her nipples tightened and her mind went into fantasyland when he kept smoothing the cool plaster slowly.

      “I’m just doing what you want, Piper.”

      Not quite, she thought, and reached to inspect the thickness and texture, making certain she was completely covered.

      “How long do we wait?” he asked.

      She scribbled, Till it dries, dingy. 20 mins. The fan set up close by hastened the process. Then she wrote again, Eye on Charlie, likes to jump on the couch. She heard Jack’s soft chuckle and barely made out his footsteps as he walked away.

      Darcy tried to relax and be still, yet her mind was running at full speed. She didn’t like that she couldn’t see Jack or what he was doing. But she could feel him when he came close. When the mold was done, she tapped the table and he was there to help her lift it off.

      “I hate that part, makes me feel like I’m buried alive.”

      She stood and placed the relief in a frame padded with cotton, then excused herself to wash up and change into a T-shirt. When she came back Jack was exactly where she’d left him.

      “Charlie? You want some eggs or cereal?” she said as she tipped the relief so it was level and started building barriers around it with thin sheets of metal and pins.

      “Toaster tarts!” he called back and Jack chuckled.

      “Oh, I so don’t think so.” Bending, she inserted metal frame pins to hold the irregular shape in place.

      “Mom,” he whined.

      “Pick one, kiddo.”

      “Eggs,” Charlie said, sulking as she started mixing chemicals and plaster.

      “You look like a mad scientist with all that,” Jack said.

      “This will make the face form mine, in relief. It’s plaster, but it has a liquid plastic hardener that will make it come out of the mold and stay hard. Then I’ll just take the old head form, cut the face off, and apply a fresh one.”

      “Yes, Dr. Mengela.”

      Her chuckle was sinister as she slowly blended the plaster with a kitchen hand mixer. “Then I mix up the polymer clay and with some foam, start building the face.”

      “Should I be concerned that you’ll develop dual personalities?” he asked, lifting a full mask of a man’s face.

      She smiled. “No, I like being a woman. I put that on the women I help, Jack, so the trail vanishes and nothing can be traced back to here, and Charlie.”

      “But this underground railroad you’re part of—”

      “Don’t mention the illegalities, please.” He harped on that a lot.

      “You said it, not me. What if something happens while you’re moving through it? It’s so secret even the cops can’t find the trail.”

      “Why would they want to? Safe house means in secret. A lawyer and a cop come to the women and take pictures and statements at a different location. It’s a requirement to remain at the safe house that they file formal charges and appear in court if they have to.”

      “They’d like to have authority over it. Make sure nothing gets thrown out of court on a technicality.”

      “Hasn’t yet.”

      Jack moved to the stove, pulling out a small frying pan. “Man, you are so stubborn.”

      “Look who’s talking.” Darcy looked over her shoulder, her expression questioning.

      “Charlie’s eggs.”

      “Thanks. Scrambled.”

      “Oh good, the only kind I can do.”

      “Make some for yourself if you want.”

      Darcy felt weird. He’d been here before, just not for long and certainly not cooking in her kitchen. She didn’t want to think about how comfortable it felt to have him here. When he was done, he cleaned up and took the plate to Charlie, and since the kitchen table was occupied with her latex, he had Charles sit at the coffee table. Then he plopped down beside her son and joined him.

      Darcy’s heart did a little leap at the way he looked at her son. Charlie’s own father hadn’t even held him when he was born. Maurice demanded she abort and when she refused, he threw her down the stairs, hoping she’d lose the baby. Pushing her kept his hands clean. An accident, he’d say. The memory blasted through her and she flinched, feeling each bang of the steps. Curling her body into a ball to protect her baby, the cool tile floor beneath her cheek.

      “Piper?”

      She blinked. Jack was standing close, holding the empty plates. How long had she fazed out?

      “You all right?”

      Tears burned