Cut and Run (Kindle Edition)

by Carla Neggers (Author)

Editorial Reviews

Product Description

The largest uncut diamond in the world, the Minstrel's Rough, is little more than legend. Brought into the Pepperkamp family in 1548, it has been handed down to one keeper in each generation. Juliana Fall has inherited its splendor from her uncle-and, unwittingly, its legacy of danger.

Juliana's mother wants nothing more than to bury her memories of the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands. But with the diamond in her daughter's keeping, Juliana's safety becomes entangled in the secrets of the past.

There are others who seek the Minstrel's Rough. A U.S. senator who will risk his career and face the ultimate scandal to claim its value. A Nazi collaborator willing to do anything to possess it. And a Vietnam war hero turned journalist, chasing the story of this mythic stone.

Now Juliana has only two choices: uncover the past before they do-or cut and run.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Len Wetherall settled back against the delicate wrought-iron rail in front of the Club Aquarian, enjoying the sunny, cold mid-December afternoon. He was a people watcher, and there was no place better to watch people than New York. Here, for a change, he could do the watching; he wasn't always the one who was watched. He was three inches shy of seven feet tall, an ex-NBA superstar, black, rich, and a man of exquisite taste and enormous respon-sibilities. He knew he didn't blend in on the streets of SoHo any more than he did anywhere else. But here no one gave a damn.

People were moving fast, even for the city. Len watched a pink-haired woman in a raccoon coat swing around the corner, covering some ground. She had on red knit gloves and red vinyl boots, and her mouth was painted bright red. Her eyes—

Len straightened up, buttoning one button of his camel wool overcoat. Her eyes were the darkest emerald green, and he'd recognize them anywhere.

"J.J. Pepper."

When she spotted him, she grinned, her teeth sparkling white against her bright lips. Even in the harsh afternoon light, her eyes were as mysteriously alluring as everything else about her. She came right up to him, stood on her tip-toes, and he bent down and planted a kiss on her overly madeup cheek. His wife, Merrie, couldn't understand why J.J. wanted to paint up her hair and face like that. "She must be a real light blond underneath that colored mousse she uses," Merrie had said. "And I'll bet her skin's perfect. Why would she want to cover up all that?"

Why, indeed? But Len had learned not to ask J.J. Pep-per too many questions. She'd just give him one of her dazed looks, as if they weren't operating on the same plan-et, and avoid a straight answer. He'd asked her once how old she was, and she'd said, "Oh—around thirty." Like she was making herself up. The colored hair, the vintage clothes, the gaudy makeup, and the rhinestones were all a part of her look. They were what she wanted other people to see. Her package. During his fifteen years with the he should be packaged. He'd learned the hard way just to go on and be himself. J.J. would learn, too, sooner or later.

J.J. Pepper had first glided into the Club Aquarian that spring. The place had been open just one year, and already it was one of the hottest nightclubs in New York. Len had opened its doors shortly after his final season as a power forward with the Knicks. His original dream had been to start up his own down and dirty jazz joint, but if nothing else his years on the basketball court had taught him who he was and, maybe more important, who he wasn't. Down and dirty wasn't his style, and he wasn't a purist about jazz. He liked to mix in some popular, some soft rock, some easy classical, turn the musicians loose, and let them do their thing. He wanted his club to have a little polish, a certain cachet. Tall ceilings. He wanted it to be the kind of place where people could have a good time, wear their best clothes, be their best selves.

Looking at J.J. the first time, he didn't think she'd fit in. She'd had on one of her nutty outfits, a thirties dress and lots of rhinestones, and had plunked herself down at the baby grand, like, hell, baby, I belong here. Right then he'd known she had it, never mind the crazy lavender hair and the feeling she wasn't quite on the level with him.

She'd started to play, stopped after a few seconds, and turned to him. "Did you know this piano has a muddy bass?"

"That right," he said, noncommittal.

"I'll compensate today, but you should have it looked at."

"Sure, babe. I'll get right on it." Before he could pull her little butt off the bench, she'd started to play. Then he didn't want to stop her. He'd just stood there, listening. Her technique was awesome. He'd never heard such sounds come out of that piano, damned muddy bass or no damned muddy bass. But she didn't let go; she held on tight to all the notes she had memorized. He could feel something there inside her, waiting to get out.And when it did—man, he wanted to be there. The walls'd be shaking.

She played three tunes and stopped. She turned around on the bench and looked up at him with those pink and lav-ender streaked eyes for his verdict. She didn't seem winded or nervous. Len had the feeling that if he told her she wouldn't do, she'd just shrug her nice round shoulders and walk off, ego intact.

"Not bad, J.J." A fake name, he decided. Who the hell would call a kid with eyes like that J.J.? He didn't believe the Pepper, either.

"Thank you," she said, polite, but not what he'd have called relieved. She knew she was good.

"You need to let yourself go, put some heat into what you're doing."

She frowned, smacking her plum-colored lips together. "Improvise, you mean?"

"Yeah, improvise." He thought, bub, what're you get-ting yourself into? But then he heard himself say, "You can play the early crowds, some lunches if you want. I'm look-ested. We sometimes bring in a classical pianist. You know any Bach and Beethoven?"

"I'd prefer to stick to jazz and popular. When would you like me to start?"

"Tomorrow night."

"I can't start tomorrow night."

"Can't?"

"I have a previous commitment."

"You playing another club?"

"No."

She wasn't going to explain. "What about Sunday?"

"You want to open me with a brunch?"

"Yeah. Earl Hines you're not, babe."

Those high, sweet white cheeks of hers got red.

"Okay, Mr.—"

She'd forgotten his damn name. "Wetherall," he sup-plied, deadpan. "Len Wetherall."

She'd never heard of him. Took her two weeks to figure out who he was. Told him she followed hockey, not basket-ball. He'd dropped the name Wayne Gretzky, but she'd just said, "Who?" It had been another one of those little inconsis-tencies. They all added up to a big fat lie, but Len had decided if J.J. Pepper ever wanted to level with him, then he'd listen.

Until then, he'd let her be whoever she wanted to be. "Hey, sweet cheeks," he drawled now, giving her a slow grin. Her eyes were done up in a glittery gold. "Good to see you. How was New Zealand?"

For a second she looked as if she didn't know what he was talking about, as if she'd forgotten she'd walked out on him four months ago to go mountain climbing in New Zealand. Then everything clicked and she laughed. "New Zealand was terrific."

He'd have believed she'd been to Yakutsk just as well. "Bring me back a sheep?"

"Postcards."

Where'd she pick up postcards? Not in New Zealand, for damn sure. "You ready to play?"

She gave him a wide smile, and this time there was re-lief in it. "Sure."

"Then get in there. Later you can tell me about New Zealand."

"Be glad to."

The glint in her eyes told him she was having a grand time lying to him. But inside, the late afternoon crowd and the baby grand piano were waiting, and she seemed glad to see them both.

The Dutchman smoked a cigar as he stood alone on the park side of Central Park West at Eighty-first Street. Across from him on one corner was the sprawling Museum of Natural History, on the other, the prestigious Beresford. From his vantage point, he could review the two entrances to the Beresford on Eighty-first Street as well as the one on Central Park West. Doormen in green uniforms with gold braid were posted at each entrance. They didn't worry Hendrik de Geer, if he needed to, he could get past them. For now, he was only observing.

He saw the woman in the raccoon coat step out of a yel-low cab on Eighty-first, a wide, busy street that cut through the park. She said something to one of the doormen and was permitted to go inside. Her hair was pinkish blond. At first Hendrik had assumed it was a trick of the sunlight, but he soon realized he was mistaken and that, indeed, her hair was pink. She had left the Beresford a few hours ear-lier. He'd waited for her, smoking in the cold. He had to see her once more, to be sure.

He was sure now. She was Juliana Fall. He had seen her smile and her eyes. She could be no one else.

All at once the cigar tasted bitter. It was a Havana, his only extravagance. Johannes Peperkamp had given Hen-drik his first cigar when he was still just a boy, and he'd choked on the smoke and vomited, embarrassing himself in front of the older friend he'd so badly wanted to impress. Hendrik had long since stopped worrying about trying to impress anyone. All that interested him was survival. His judgment of character and his ability to size up a situation were quick and accurate, and over the years those abilities had helped him stay alive. As he grew older, he found him-self becoming increasingly dependent on his instincts. He could rely no longer upon the physical strength or the quickness of youth—or with his whitening blond hair and age-toughened, wrinkling skin, on its appearance. What he had was experience. Instincts.

His instincts now were telling him to run. He would need only to disappear, as he had many times in the past. It was a particular skill of his. He could do it.

He threw down the cigar and stamped it out with the heel of his boot. Then he turned around and walked through the stone gate into the park. My instincts, he thought, be damned.

Juliana Fall, aka J.J. Pepper, let the hot water of the shower rinse the last remnants of the pink mousse from her hair, and it felt as if a part of herself were being sucked down the drain. You're not J.J.! Yes, but wasn't J.J. real? Hadn't Len kissed J.J. on the cheek and hadn't the crowd at the Club Aquarian applauded J.J.?

J.J. existed. She was an aberration, perhaps, but she did exist. She had even taken over an entire bedroom in Juliana's sprawling, elegant apartment. It was decorated twenties-style, and the closet and drawers brimmed with vintage clothes and jewelry from between the two World Wars. J.J. fare. Juliana seldom was seen in anything but the latest designs from the collections of top designers.

Stepping out of the shower, Juliana wrapped herself in a giant soft ...

Product Details

• Format: Kindle Edition
• File Size: 286 KB
• Print Length: 384 pages
• Publisher: Mira (March 2, 2007)
• Sold by: Amazon Digital Services
• Language: English
• ASIN: B000O76NZK
• Average Customer Review: 4.1 out of 5 stars See all reviews (8 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #12,301 in Kindle Store (See Bestsellers in Kindle Store)

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Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:

3.0 out of 5 stars Romantic Thriller, March 16, 2007

By	Elaine C McTyer "avid reader" (Dawson, GA USA) - See all my reviews (TOP 500 REVIEWER)    (REAL NAME)

This review is from: Cut And Run (Mass Market Paperback)

This is a rerelease of a 1989 Carla Neggers novel. However I had not read it, so I bought it thinking it was new. This is not a bad novel it is just not quite up to her other novels. With a three star rating you can understand that it was OK but it was dated because of the time setting. I guess that is why it didn't appeal to me, but if you have already read it beware is has a new cover.

Julianna Fall is a concert pianist, she is given a large uncut diamond by her Uncle. The Minstrel's Rough is a large uncut diamond held by her family for over four hundred yrs. No one has proof of its existance. At least that is what they think.

Matthew Stark is a journalist, he was also in the Vietnam war which plays a large part in this story. He is following a story that leads him to Julianna and the diamond.

There is a very bad man who wants the diamond and will do anything to get it. Then there is a senator who is willing to do anything to keep a secret from the Vietnam War. Then there is the person who knows that the diamond is real and he has told these men all about it.

Now only Matthew and Julianna stand between them and the diamond they covet.

It may only be me but I simply did not like the Nazi connection, or the vietman war references. It was slow and I just did not like it.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars BRILLIANT BOOK, September 14, 2007

By	Loves to Read "Cactus" (CICERO, NY United States) - See all my reviews

This review is from: Cut And Run (Mass Market Paperback)

I loved, loved, loved this book and couldn't put it down. I can't get enough of Negger's current books, but her older books are fabulous, too. I haven't read all of them, so it's a treat when they are reissued because they are out of print.

CUT AND RUN had a lot of elements that I didn't know. Like the occupation of the Netherlands, the history of the diamond industry there, and I didn't know a lot of the Vietnam chopper stuff either. I enjoyed this book as much as I did CLAIM THE CROWN, which is one of my all time "old" favorites by her.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars The best!, May 9, 2007

By	Katie (Connecticut) - See all my reviews

This review is from: Cut And Run (Mass Market Paperback)

I'm a huge Carla Neggers fan!! I totally got into this book... loved the background on diamonds, Juliana Fall is a fascinating character and Matthew Stark is to die for!!!