Stacey Joy Netzel Boxed Set

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  If Ben’s phone wasn’t the only one equipped to make international calls, she’d call and give them a loud, extended piece of her mind.

  Stop! You’re going to be fine. There are plenty of people around and no one’s going to do anything in broad daylight. She clutched the small travel purse hanging diagonal across her chest containing her passport. See? If you need help, you can prove you’re a US citizen.

  Not that she’d need to prove her citizenship. Any minute the blue car would come back around the bend. Any second even.

  She stared down the road, counting seconds.

  Seconds became minutes.

  Maybe they didn’t know she’d been left behind. What then? How long before they came back? Desperate to control the unrelenting apprehension no amount of silent talk would quell, Halli turned back to the lake as if she’d find answers somewhere across the water.

  A lone swan near shore reminded her of the camera still clutched in her hand. The red light on the front reminded her she was still recording. Ironically, the camera was part of the reason she was sitting here alone, and yet she’d completely forgotten about it.

  She stopped the video and swiveled to take a seat on the cool ledge of stone that held the lake water at bay. It was the perfect vantage point to keep the loitering man across the street in sight. A glance over her shoulder located where the other swans had landed a good distance from the villa’s dock.

  She frowned and faced the lake. Strange how that person had burst so suddenly from the villa.

  The noon sun sat at a point that she had to squint and shade her eyes to see the structure’s stone walls across the small inlet of water. Even then, it was too far away for the naked eye. Flipping open the viewfinder as she lifted the camera, she waited for it to focus, then tried to zoom. The low battery indicator flashed as she maxed the zoom.

  She studied the picture. Something was different—one of the windows looked odd. Her attention snagged on a tall figure in the corner of the pane. Longish dark hair above a square jaw with a severe slash for a mouth. He raised a pair of binoculars to look across the bay. Her pulse jerked when he zeroed in and stared straight at her—

  Tires squealed and an engine revved loud to her right. Halli jumped about a foot. Ben and Rachel! An uncharacteristic spurt of anger doubled her anxiety as she whirled around.

  “I can’t believe you guys left—”

  Words disappeared with the heart-stuttering realization that the shiny blue convertible half pulled onto the cobblestone sidewalk was not her brother and sister. And the man in the driver’s seat most certainly was not her brother.

  Plain was the first word that came to mind when Trent Tomlin got a good, close-up look at the girl dressed in baggy black pants and an oversized black T-shirt. Except for her eyes. Almost the exact color of his car, they blazed with anger—if the shrill tone of her voice were any indication.

  Because he couldn’t afford to waste a second, he slipped into his carefree, celebrity character while pushing up his Ray Bans to flash his trade-mark, million dollar grin past the two day’s worth of camouflaging scruff on his jaw.

  “Hi.” Usually that’s all he needed. One…two…

  Astonishment replaced anger.

  …three.

  “Oh my God. You’re Shain West.”

  “Only in the movies, darlin’.”

  That always got ‘em, too, the good-ol’-boy, southern drawl. Didn’t matter he’d been born and raised in northern Oregon, he had a natural talent for mimicking any accent. After just a few words, he easily placed her in mid-west United States. American tourist. Perfect. It also explained why she’d been video taping in the wrong place at the wrong damn time. The opposite of his brother, and if he could help it, the opposite outcome.

  Her cheeks flushed. “Of course. I know your real name. Sorry. It’s just—I’m…ah…I’m…”

  Hell, he’d better speed this up. “Can I give you a lift?”

  “W-what?” She craned her head around, as if he might be speaking to someone else.

  Resisting the urge to check over his shoulder, he kept his gaze trained on her. “You look lost. Hop in and I’ll give you a ride.”

  Her throat convulsed, and though he wouldn’t have thought it possible, her blush deepened to crimson. A fleeting smile revealed even, white teeth.

  “Oh, no. I mean, um, thank you, but no.”

  She lifted a hand to tuck a strand of straight brown hair behind her ear as she searched back and forth along the road.

  Trent cast his own quick glance in the rearview mirror, pressure squeezing his body like a starving boa constrictor as he searched for the men who’d spotted her and her camera across the bay. By his amateur calculations, he figured he had about three more minutes. If they were lucky.

  Pushing up to sit on the headrest, he prepared to turn on the superstar charm that had brought him such success at the box office.

  “I’m waiting for my brother and sister,” she said before he could speak.

  So that’s who’d driven off as he watched the scene unfold from one street above and behind her. He lifted a tense shoulder in a careless gesture. “Quick spin around town, and I’ll bring you right back. They’ll never know you were gone, sugar.”

  Her eyebrows drew together above those deep blue eyes. Damn. He fought his own frown. Based on previous experience with star-struck women, she should’ve jumped in at the first invitation. Wasn’t it just his luck, this one had common sense.

  Leaving the car running, he swung his legs over the door and rounded the front of the convertible. His heart thumped with each step as he tried to figure out the best way to get her out of this mess. It was one thing when he was following a script, but how the hell did one orchestrate a rescue in real life when the rescuee wouldn’t cooperate and he had no time to explain the danger? It’s not like he could play her the recording tucked in his pocket.

  The girl backed away from his approach. He fought back rising apprehension and forced an easy smile.

  “Look, I appreciate the offer, Shain, but—”

  “Trent.”

  “Right.” Her blush deepened. “I know. Trent. But I—”

  “I need you to get in the car.” As an afterthought, he added, “Please.”

  “Um…”

  He used her glance down the road as cover for his own. Still time, yet his control slipped. “Seriously. Get in.”

  The sharp command widened her eyes. Suspicion darkened them to navy, and she took another step backward. Then her shoulders squared while her gaze narrowed with determination. “No.”

  The right taillight on his Alfa Romeo exploded. Trent ducked reflexively as bits of plastic flew in all directions. Adrenaline spiked through him, but other than a sharp reactive jerk, the girl just stood there holding her camera. Trent lunged forward, grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the car.

  “Hey—let me go!” She pulled back with surprising strength.

  He picked her up and shoved her head first into the passenger seat, then vaulted over her to slip behind the wheel. Heartbeat thundering in his ears, he gunned the gas with a sickening grinding of gears before the convertible shot out into traffic amidst screeching tires and blaring horns. A frantic half-second glance in the rearview mirror confirmed a black vehicle weaving through the cars behind them.

  Shit. Damn. Fuck!

  He switched his concentration to the road in front. If he didn’t lose these guys fast, they were dead.

  The girl’s brown head popped up in his peripheral vision. Three bullets spidered his windshield in rapid succession. The bobbing head screamed and disappeared. His hands jerked on the wheel, and he narrowly missed hitting a motor scooter head-on.

  “Shit!”

  Scrunching down in his seat, Trent shot a glance toward the passenger seat. “You okay?” Nothing. His heart dropped and he risked another frantic look. “I asked if you’re okay!”

  “No, I’m not okay!”

  “Were you hit?”


  “By what?”

  He couldn’t help an incredulous laugh as another bullet took out his right side mirror. He wrenched the wheel to the left. A loud thud was followed by a muffled “Ow”. Trent cut in front of an oncoming van and slammed the car into third going uphill.

  The girl’s brown head appeared again, hair wild about her face in the wind.

  “For crissakes, stay the hell down,” Trent yelled.

  Instead, she maneuvered her butt around until she could plunk it in the passenger seat and yank on the safety belt. Then she glared at him. He couldn’t see it because his eyes were glued to the road, but, man, did he feel it.

  “My God, slow down, would you?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m not kidding,” she hollered above the growl of the engine and whistling wind. “Did Rachel and Ben put you up to this?”

  “Who?”

  “My sister and brother. Did they arrange this?”

  He risked a glance with a half-cocked grin of disbelief. “What exactly do you think this is?”

  “Look out!”

  Trent jerked his attention back to the road in time to see a delivery truck blocking the way. “Shit!”

  The tires screamed as he stomped on the brakes. Jamming the convertible into reverse, he turned to locate a side street behind them, his grip on the headrest of her seat white-knuckled. The moment he was clear, he spun the wheel, ground the gears and floored the gas. The poor girl’s head jerked forward, back, forward with each successive switch of direction.

  He really should find out her name. Poor Girl wouldn’t cut it for long. And if they didn’t make it through this—

  “This—you driving like a crazy man—is not my idea of fun,” the girl snapped. “Let me out.”

  Trent snorted, swerved around a slower vehicle and checked the only mirror he had left to see if they were still being pursued.

  “I mean it! Stop the car this instant.”

  “Not a good idea, sweetheart.”

  “What in the world is going on, anyway? Are you filming a movie or something?”

  “I wish.” He took the next turn so hard her shoulder hit his as they cornered on two, squealing wheels. When she didn’t respond right away, he saw her staring at the holes in his windshield as if she’d just now noticed them.

  “You mean...those were real bullets?”

  “What the hell else would they be?”

  Another sharp turn assisted her back to her side of the vehicle.

  “Real guns?”

  A quick look at the girl’s dazed expression and Trent knew exactly how she felt. If he looked anything like she did…he pulled down his Ray Bans from on top his head. He’d never done this in real life before, only in carefully choreographed scenes with numerous stuntmen.

  The front end of his convertible took out a sign and side-swiped a garbage dumpster with the next turn. Damn it. He’d just bought this baby last week! Hadn’t even had a chance to open it up and see what it could do on the auto strata. This was not the way to break in the engine—and he didn’t even want to look at the body.

  A few stuntmen right about now would be more than welcome. “Listen, make yourself useful and see if they’re still behind us.”

  “Who?” She turned around in her seat.

  He reached over and jerked on her shoulder. “Stay down!”

  “How am I supposed to look if I—”

  “Around the headrest. What the hell,” he muttered. “You have enough common sense to not get in a car with me, but pop up for target practice?”

  “Hey, I was right about you. You kidnapped me!”

  “I saved your life, and I did say please. Now shut up and look for a black car.”

  Halli peered around the headrest. No speeding black car giving chase. No dangerous looking bad guys toting guns. Real guns. She felt a little lightheaded, but maybe it was the jetlag. Or the bump on the head when she’d hit the floor. Or the way the car swerved back and forth and up and down on the mountain roads, like a bad roller coaster. Very bad.

  How had she ended up here? She’d had plans for this trip. Detailed plans that hadn’t included a stop along the shore of Lake Como until tomorrow at two p.m.

  Back home, Ben had laughed at her itinerary and tossed it in the garbage. Then he said he understood her need for structure and stability, but it was time for her to stop letting the choices their parents had made rule her life. That had really struck home and the week prior to their trip, he’d worn her down, and she’d actually convinced herself touring Italy whichever way the wind blew them could be fun. And bonus—maybe she’d even get a little control over her anxiety.

  She’d even managed to keep her cool when Ben had swerved onto the side of the road out of the blue before they’d found their hotel and Rachel’s stupid hair dryer converter. He’d promised to go easy on her, so she’d figured a stop by the lake wasn’t too bad.

  Of course, she still had an extra copy of that itinerary tucked in with her passport, but—

  “Well?” Trent Tomlin demanded.

  Trent Tomlin! America’s dark-haired, sexy playboy god. She hadn’t even recognized him until he smiled, and now she understood why. He’d taken the scruff look to the extreme with a dark five-o’clock shadow, windblown hair, and tightly compressed, uncompromising lips. He darted a glance to the one remaining mirror and she gave her head a quick shake. Black car. Bad guys. She squinted at the narrow ribbon of road behind them.

  “I think you lost them.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I don’t see any black cars.” Wherever they were, there was substantially less traffic, so she was pretty confident in her assessment.

  He slowed the convertible a hair, enough so the next turn didn’t throw her body against his; just close enough for her accelerated breathing to catch another heady dose of his scent. Citrus and spice, with a subtle musky base. Almost earthy. She inhaled again before she could help herself. Of course Trent Tomlin would smell great.

  Man, she had to get a grip. He’d kidnapped her! As she pushed back into her own seat, his earlier words finally registered on her short-circuited brain.

  “What do you mean, you saved my life?”

  After giving her a brief glimpse of her own confused expression in his mirrored glasses, he returned his attention to the road. “Grab me that baseball cap down by your feet.”

  Halli automatically leaned forward and swept the floor with her hand. When she sat back with the navy blue cap, she jerked away from his reaching hand. “You put my life in danger, you didn’t save it. Because of you, I almost got shot.”

  “Honey, because of me, you didn’t get shot,” he retorted. “Did you really think you could record those guys and get away with it?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “They saw you across the water with your camera.”

  “I was filming the swans.”

  He frowned at her like she’d grown a second head. “Swans?”

  “Yes, swans. You know, big white birds with a long neck and—”

  He braked sharply, and she was grateful for the seatbelt that kept her forehead from connecting with the dash as they came to a full stop.

  “You weren’t videotaping the villa?”

  “No. I saw it, even zoomed in on it, but…”

  She trailed off with a flash-vision of the person bursting through the villa door. And the man staring at her from the window. Were they the same person? Suddenly it dawned on her why the window had looked odd. It hadn’t been shiny from the sunlight glinting off the glass, but dark, as if the glass was no longer there.

  The fine hairs on the back of her neck tingled. Trent Tomlin leaned closer, his dark head blocking out the sun. The vision of the man in the window made Halli shrink back against the passenger door.

  “You didn’t see anything else?” Trent Tomlin prompted.

  Her hands trembled. She clasped them together in her lap, absently fiddling with
the Velcro adjuster on his cap. After the past ten minutes and the sharp tension in his voice, she was afraid to ask her next question, but forced the words out anyway.

  “What do you think I saw?”

  He gave a brief glance behind them and yanked up on the hand brake lever. His knuckles brushed along her leg as he reached down into her space. She flinched in alarm, but with her camera now fisted in his large hand, he simply resettled into his seat. He powered it on and hit rewind.

  Three seconds later he swore under his breath. “You got another battery?”

  “I left the case in the car.” With Ben and Rachel.

  More swearing. He shoved the camera at her and snatched his cap from her death grip. After settling it low over his brow, he released the hand brake, shifted the idling car back into gear and hit the gas.

  Her head bounced off the headrest as the car shot forward. Dumbfounded, she stared out the windshield. Comprehension dawned and this time she purposely let her head thump back as she squeezed her eyes shut in dismay. Stupid idiot. She’d just missed a chance to escape. Movie star or not, apparent rescue or not, she didn’t actually know the man. He could be a serial killer for all she knew. Unlikely, sure, but only an hour ago she’d have also said being abducted by him was unlikely. Unlikely did not mean impossible.

  What did seem impossible was getting back to her family. The further he drove, the more lost she’d be. Because even if she got away, she hadn’t seen any city name signs where they’d pulled off the road and had no idea where they’d left her. Her English/Italian dictionary also sat on the back seat of the blue rental.

  “Where are you going?” she asked after a minute of silent berating.

  “To my house.”

  “Your house? Shouldn’t we go to the police?”

  “La polizia?”

  His perfect Italian accent threw her for a moment.

  “No can do, sweetheart.”

  “People shot at us! All we have to do is show them your car.”

  He maneuvered around a corner, their speed sedate compared to earlier. “We can’t trust them.”

  “We can’t trust the police?”