look terrific. Now, get out of here.”
Julie’s next client approached, and Sydney stepped aside. She wanted to encourage Julie to come to dinner but it would be too awkward. Instead, she left to pay her bill.
A black Lincoln Town Car with tinted windows was waiting just outside the door and she quickly got in without getting her hair too mussed up. “I’m going to the Wainwright building on—”
“I know where it is.” The driver’s voice was deep and raspy and sent an odd shiver down Sydney’s spine.
She sank back against the seat and stared at the back of his dark head. He barely cleared the top of the car, which meant he had to be pretty tall. The usual white cotton shirt most drivers wore stretched across his broad shoulders. His hair was long, a little too long, enough to make a ponytail, she guessed. Not that it mattered but…
“Excuse me.” She snapped out of her daydreaming and squinted out the window. They were on the freeway. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“No, we’re not,” he said in that deep husky voice.
And then she heard the definitive click of all four locks engaging.
Chapter Two
Fear tightened Sydney’s chest. Bile rose in her throat. She stared at his large tanned hand gripping the wheel. “You’re going the wrong way,” she said again, her voice sounding pathetically, maddeningly weak.
“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. They were icy blue. “As long as you cooperate.”
“What do you want?”
“Just your cooperation.”
“I have money…cash in my purse, and credit cards.” She fumbled with the stubborn catch on her pocketbook. “You can have them all.” Her frantic gaze flew to the window. They were already passing the city limits. “Just leave me here on the side of the road.”
His laugh was humorless, dark. “Sweetheart, some things money can’t buy.”
Nausea rolled in her stomach, but she tried to stay focused. There was a narrow space between the pair of tinted glass dividers separating them. If she could wedge her hand between them…
Her purse clasp finally gave, startling her. A tube of lipstick and a roll of breath mints spilled out. She reached in for her wallet, hoping she could still tempt him with cash. That’s when she felt it.
The barrel of the small gun Rick had bought her.
She’d argued with him at the time. She’d always been opposed to carrying a weapon of any kind, but she’d finally given in to placate him.
The pistol was in a separate pocket and she slowly disengaged the zipper. With her other hand, she fisted a wad of bills, and then held the cash up for his view.
“Look,” she said, hoping he’d reconsider. If not, it was still a good distraction. “There’s about five hundred dollars here.”
His eyes again met hers in the mirror. The corners crinkled. “I already have you and the money.”
She finally worked the gun free, dropped the money and pointed the pistol with both shaky hands at his head. “But I have this.”
A brief look of surprise entered his eyes. He said nothing but swerved the car off the freeway onto the shoulder. He didn’t stop, but drove through the tall grass toward a dense patch of trees and shrubs.
Two cars flew by them down the freeway. They didn’t look as though they planned to stop. Fear clogged her throat and she had to swallow hard in order to speak. “Stop right now or I swear I’ll shoot.”
He drove another ten yards and parked the car in the middle of a grove of oak trees, which effectively concealed them from other motorists.
He threw open his door and got out, and then opened hers. Without a word, he reached in and grabbed one of her wrists and dragged her out. Startled, she almost dropped the gun.
But she managed to hold on to it and as soon as her feet were planted in the grass, she aimed the barrel at him. “I mean it.”
“Or what?” One side of his mouth lifted in a cocky grin. His chin and jaw were dark with stubble, his long hair unruly, his amused blue eyes boring into her. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned.
“Or I’ll shoot that smug smile off your face.” Hell, she should have said goddamn smile. Julie would have. It sounded more forceful.
He didn’t so much as flinch. He just stared at her, until his gaze dropped to her chest. It stayed there a long time before he lazily let it roam her waist, her hips…the juncture of her thighs.
“I mean it.” She swallowed. “You dumb son of a bitch.”
His gaze shot up to her face, and before she knew what happened, he yanked the gun out of her hand.
“If you wanna shoot someone, sweetheart, you’d better release the safety first.” He inspected the pistol. “Bullets would help, too.”
He reached behind and stuck the gun in the back pocket of his jeans. From his other pocket, he produced a pair of handcuffs.
“Oh, no.” She took a step back. “Please don’t.”
He didn’t even bother to stop her. He had on cowboy boots. She had on heels. He knew she wouldn’t get far.
“It was your choice.” He slowly unfastened the cuffs, as if he were deliberately trying to torture her.
Even though she knew it was useless, she took another step back. “Just tell me what you want. We can work something out.”
He smiled and advanced. “Come on, Sydney, a bright girl like you can figure it out.”
He’d used her name.
She stood frozen, numb with fear, the slim hope that this was a random mugging shriveling inside her. Her knees weakened and her legs started to wobble.
The man stopped directly in front of her, inches away, his breath scented with the sweet surreal smell of butterscotch. Something odd flickered in his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her. She started to struggle, but he held her to his chest. Belying his cool exterior, his heart pounded against her ear.
“Settle down. I’m just trying to keep you from ending up in a heap,” he said, and loosened his hold when she pulled back.
She lifted her chin and willed her legs to stop shaking. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” He reached around her and caught her wrists.
Her breasts crushed against his hard chest. “Oh, please don’t cuff them behind my back. You know I can’t get away.”
He stared down at her, his gaze wary and measuring. He was taller than she first thought…at least six-two because she was five-five and he towered over her.
“Okay.” He released her wrists and stepped back.
“Thank you.” Her voice had come out barely above a whisper. She pushed her hair back and was about to smooth her skirt when he grabbed her hands again. “What are you doing?”
He slapped the cuffs around one wrist and then the other. “I’m not going to leave you free to bushwhack me.”
“But I—”
He put the rough pad of his thumb against her lips. “One more word and I cuff those pretty little hands of yours behind your back.”
She swallowed and remained silent.
His gaze stayed on her face as he dragged his thumb across the seam of her lips before lowering it. “Get back in the car.”
She hesitated, wanting to ask where they were going and who he represented,