by Cherry Adair
Hilary ran down the stairs of the hotel, dressed in a sleepshirt and a pair of cotton undies. She’d had to beg for the underwear. She carried the red high heels, the only shoes she had. They were nearly useless in terms of footwear, but she supposed she could use one of the stiletto heels as a weapon, if she was forced.
Scrambling down the last flight, she rounded the corner and ran toward the lobby. No one was at the desk. She rapped her hand on the desk. “Hello? Hello?”
No one answered. Her nerves jangled in her stomach. Juan might come after her. Or Jensen. She rapped again on the desk and yelled louder.
“Really long potty break,” she muttered when, still, no one came.
Her heart pounding with a combination of adrenaline and fear, she went out the door. At least she’d escaped. She was free. A burst of exultation lasted three glorious seconds.
Okay, so now what? she asked herself. She’d been so focused on getting free that she hadn’t planned what she would do once she accomplished that. She’d thought she could get help in the lobby, but there’d been no one. She had no money, no identification, no charge card, no cell phone.
But there was always collect, she thought, immediately walking across the parking lot in search of a pay phone. She could call her parents—Scratch that. This kind of call would take years off her parents’ lives. She could call one of her sorority sisters, preferably one of the graduates who could let her borrow a little money for clothes and transportation. And maybe the police would help now that she had some information. Now that Christine had been missing for way longer than twenty-four hours.
Her stomach clenched at the thought and she picked up her pace, ignoring the fact that her feet were freezing. Where could Christine be? She must have been taken to the training center for uncooperative candidates. Her heart sank. Or she’d already been bought and had been taken out of the country. Or worse.
“Miss Winfree?” a man said from behind her.
Hilary’s heart slammed into her rib cage and she bolted, a tiny scream escaping her throat. She didn’t know who it was, but whoever it was, he probably wasn’t on her side. She ran across a grassy median strip.
“Miss Winfree! Stop! You’re not supposed to be out here,” the man called, still behind her.
She continued running. Head for traffic. Maybe she could get a ride. In her pajamas, she reminded herself dryly, but still kept running.
She felt his breath on her neck and panicked.
“Miss Winfree—”
The man captured her arm and pulled.
Hilary rounded on him, blindly hitting him with one of the stiletto heels as the other shoe fell from her hand. It was the chauffeur, Jensen.
He swore, but hung on to her. She continued to pummel him and he finally let her loose. She jumped out of his reach.
She took two breaths and an arm encircled her waist. The shoe was jerked from her hand and another arm encircled her like a straitjacket.
She kicked impotently.
“You’re not getting away,” Juan said. “But it was a damn good try. You’re going to pay for the headache I’ll have tomorrow.”
“I wish I had hit you harder. Hard enough to knock you out,” she said breathlessly, frustration and fear rushing through her.
He laughed. “But not hard enough to kill me, right, Hilary? You couldn’t go quite that far. You should be ashamed of yourself. You almost put poor Jensen’s eye out.”
“That’s nothing,” she said, even though she felt a twinge of guilt about Jensen. He’d been nice and polite to her so far. “I won’t cooperate with you. I’ll be the biggest pain in the butt you’ve ever experienced. If you take me anywhere, you’d better sleep with one eye open, because I’ll do whatever I need to get away from you unless you help me find my friend.”
“You need to let the police handle finding Christine,” he said, lifting her and tossing her over his shoulder.
“The police are taking too long,” she protested in disgust. She’d known Juan was going to be a problem. He was just too tall and too strong and now his shoulder was digging into her gut. “She’ll be out of the country by the time they realize she’s missing at all. And then it will be too late and—” She stopped when his words sank in. She bounced against his shoulder. “How did you know it’s Christine? I never told you her name.”
He sighed, holding her legs to keep her from kicking him again. “Because your parents told me.” He paused. “You okay, Jensen? I can get you some ice for that eye.”
“Thanks,” Jensen said.
Hilary glanced at the chauffeur who cast a wary, accusing glance at her. “Sorry,” she couldn’t help saying at the same time that her anger built. “My parents hired you. I should have known. How financially inefficient. I ask for their help to find Christine, but will they help me? No. So they end up spending the same money or more to rescue me. And I’m still going back to find Christine.”
“As long as it’s not on my watch,” he said, swiping the hotel’s backdoor entry with his key.
“I’ll scream,” she threatened. “I can still get away from you.”
He hauled her up the steps like a sack of potatoes. “If you scream and someone actually gives a damn, I’ll show them papers you signed describing your mental incompetence and your agreement to voluntarily commit yourself to a mental health facility in order to prevent you from hurting yourself and others.”
Hilary gasped. “I didn’t sign anything like that.”
“Sure looks like your signature,” Juan said. “Notarized and everything.”
“So you’re not a good guy,” she said, unable to keep the contempt from her voice. “You’re crooked,” she said. “There’s no difference between you and the human traffickers.”
“There’s a big difference between me and that white slavery gang,” he retorted, carrying her inside the room and putting her on her feet. “I won’t rape you, beat you, drug you, or kill you. My job is to get you home for Christmas.”
She met his dark gaze, wondering how she could persuade him to help her. If he was on her side, then she knew she would succeed. He would be the brawn and she would be the brains. “Then we have time to get Christine.”
He shook his head. “Not my job,” he said.
“But it would be so easy for you. You’re already here. You could call Mr. Harris and ask if he had any girls matching Christine’s description. Maybe they would bring her to the estate. Or prison,” she corrected.
He stepped closer to her. “You’re not hearing me,” he said in a low voice. “I’m not going after Christine. My job is to get you home safely to Mommy and Daddy for Christmas.”
His closeness and her lack of choices sent fear and desperation running through her. She bit her lip. “I could try to hurt you again. A lot more this time,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to have to tie you up, but I will.”
Nausea rose in her throat. “Or I suppose I could hurt myself.”
The barest alarm flickered in his eyes. “You’re not that type.”
“No,” she said. “I’m not, but I guess I could lie and say you hurt me. You look like you could hurt someone a lot.”
“You’d have a hard time sustaining the lie. You’re too honest,” he said.
She resisted making a face. “Or I could offer to pay you.”
“You can’t afford me.”
“I could take up a collection among the sorority sisters and I know we could raise enough money to pay you. We do fund-raisers all the time.”
“Bake sales and wet T-shirt contests,” he said in a doubtful tone.
“It’s an academic sorority,” she said in a frosty voice. “And you would be amazed at how much we earn for charity.”
“My assignment is to deliver you to your parents’ home by Christmas.”
“Deliver,” she mocked. “You make me sound like a Christmas package.”
“Your words,” he said with a shrug.
She bit her lip. “She’s
only nineteen and her boyfriend just dumped her. You could take care of this in no time. If you don’t, she could be dead.”
“How do you know she’s not out of the country already?” he asked.
“We have to find out.”
“What’s with this ‘we,’ Tonto?” he asked.
She looked at his tough jaw and stubborn chin. His unflinching gaze disheartened her. He was rock hard in both body and mind. How could she change his mind?
“I’ve threatened you. I’ve offered you money. I’ve tried to explain how dire this situation is. I don’t know what else to do. I’m at your mercy,” she said. “Please help me.”
Rick looked into Hilary’s pleading eyes and swallowed an oath. She’d been a lot easier to resist when she’d hit him over the head with that lamp. A lot easier when all she could do was argue. But looking into her honest gaze and hearing the complete lack of manipulation in her voice, he felt like he was looking down a double-barreled shotgun at point-blank range.
Rick could brush aside threats, anger, tears, bribes, even lamps, but he had a tough time with Hilary’s flat-out honesty and simply worded request.
“You know it could be hell getting truthful information out of anyone connected with John Harris Slavinsky,” he said.
Her eyes widened in realization. “So that’s his real last name. I knew Harris couldn’t be his real name.”
“He’s been in business for years. When the authorities close in on him, he just goes underground for a while and reappears in another state.”
She curled her mouth in distaste. “It’s really disgusting how he misleads the women. I’m pretty sure he was giving drugs to some of them. I think the only reason they didn’t drug me was because I played dumb and didn’t eat anything.” She shook her head. “I hate to think what might be happening to Christine right now.”
“Whatever it is, it isn’t pretty,” he said.
“So will you help?” she asked. “I’m perfectly willing to go back to the estate. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
He hesitated, remembering the occasions when he’d worn a uniform and the rules had kept him from catching a criminal in time. Working for a private agency meant he could break a few of those rules if necessary.
“We still have a chance if we move fast,” Hilary said.
Rick recalled a time when there’d been no chance and felt the dull squeeze of guilt in his gut. Different situation, he told himself, but the sensation gnawed at him.
He sighed. “I’m not promising anything, but I’ll make a few calls.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated. “Juan isn’t your real name either, is it?”
“No.”
“What is your real name?”
He considered her question for a moment then stuck to policy. “Maybe after this is over, I’ll tell you.”
“Why won’t you tell me now?”
“For a number of reasons, but the first is if for some reason we both have to appear in front of traffickers again, I don’t want you to panic and get confused.”
“I wouldn’t panic,” she told him. “I’m not the type to panic. I refuse to be a victim. I have to take action.”
“Right,” he said, thinking for the tenth time that this could turn into a helluva mistake.
“You’re not going to tell me your name, are you?” she said.
“That’s right.”
“Okay,” she said. “Michael.”
He looked at her in confusion. “Michael?”
“If you’re not going to tell me, then I’ll have to guess.”
“Just call me Mr. Castillo.”
Fifteen minutes later, he spoke with Harris Slavinsky again. Hilary had been so anxious he’d told her to go to the bedroom while he made the call. He didn’t want her voice in the background. He used the extra moments of peace to put together a plan. No need to look at the calendar again. He knew he had just three days to pull it off and get Hilary to her parents on Christmas. Roz was going to kill him. It went against all the Agency’s rules. An agent never added to the assignment. The assignment was it. No extras.
He knocked lightly on Hilary’s bedroom door and she opened it immediately, as if she’d been poised beside the door. “Did you consider sleeping?” he asked.
“I’m too wired,” she said. “What did sleazy Slavinsky say? Is he going to give you Christine?”
She was practically bouncing to get moving. Despite the fact that she was mouthy as hell and jumped from step 1 to step 7 without looking, he couldn’t deny she was cute with her pink cheeks, rosebud mouth, and expressive eyes. She might be book smart, but the woman needed to be protected from her enthusiasm. Thank goodness he wasn’t her keeper on a regular basis. “I gave him Christine’s description and he said he would have a match for me by morning.”
She clasped her hands together in excitement. “Oh, thank goodness. We can go to the estate, pick her up, and—”
“We have to get funds first.”
Her face fell. “Oh. I forgot.”
“Not surprised you’d forget about practical things like money,” he muttered. “Since your career is adding college degrees to your collection.”
She frowned. “That’s not fair,” she said. “I could have been teaching, but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity for a semester of special study.”
“What’s the area of special study?” he asked.
She paused a half beat. “Women’s studies.”
He rolled his eyes. “Do you want fries with that?” referring to the lack of marketability of her specialty.
She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “You know, you could use a little time in the classroom when it comes to women’s studies.”
“Watch it, sweetheart. You don’t know anything about how I handle women.”
“Yes, I do. I know how you manhandled me in that parking lot and—”
“After you hit me with a lamp and nearly poked out Jensen’s eye,” he added.
She opened her mouth then closed it.
“Besides, I talked you into leaving the estate with me without needing to drag you out by your hair, didn’t I?”
She took a huffy breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you have a steady girlfriend or wife?”
Rick immediately felt a sticky discomfort. “Not right now,” he said. “I’m out of town a lot. If I’m not gone for my job, then I’m out on my boat.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, disbelief oozing into her voice. “Or you’re unable to commit. Or women can’t stand being around you longer than a weekend at a time.”
Her assessment of him irritated him. He shouldn’t care, but she bothered him. “And what about you, Ms. Femi-nazi? Where’s your lover boy?”
“I was in a serious relationship in California before I returned to take this postgraduate course,” she told him in a cool voice.
“So what happened to that?”
She shrugged and looked away. “We decided it wasn’t meant to be.”
That answer was too easy. “You or he decided?” he asked, because he knew joint romantic decisions were a myth.
She pursed her lips. “I said ‘we.’ ”
“Okay, who suggested it?” he persisted.
“This is none of your business and it has nothing to do with getting Christine back.”
“You’re right,” he said. “He must have dumped you.”
“He did not,” she retorted. “I initiated the conversation.”
“So maybe the reason you returned to your femi-nazi classes is because you were scared of a real relationship with a man.”
She recrossed her arms over her chest and took a deep breath. She met his gaze head-on. “I have one thing to say to that. It takes a scaredy-cat to know a scaredy-cat.”
He would die before he admitted it, but she nailed him with that one. “Okay, you need to put on your Santa suit again.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because Jensen and I looked through your clothes an
d it’s the only sexy thing you have.”
She looked offended for a second, then shook her head in a dismissive gesture. “If I was going to get involved in human trafficking, I didn’t want to look too inviting or someone might try something.”
“You succeeded,” he said. “But if you didn’t want to look too inviting, why did you bleach your hair?”
“Because I heard they like blondes. Why do I have to dress sexy?”
“If they don’t bring me Christine then we have to get in another way. I told him you might need additional training and I want to be present during the training so I can use the same techniques when I take you away.”
“Training,” she echoed. “How bad do you think—”
“It’s not gonna be pretty,” he said. “But I’ll be there to make sure you don’t get hurt. It may be the only way we can find out where Christine is. If you don’t have the stomach for it, you better tell me by the time we arrive at the compound.”
She squared her shoulders. “I can handle it.”
“We’ll see,” he said, studying her.
The barest hint of uncertainty flickered in her eyes and she crossed her arms over her chest. “What—uh—what do you think they will do?”
His head still throbbed from his close encounter with the lamp. He squeezed his scalp. “I don’t know. They might be a little sick. Bondage, whips, beating. But I won’t let them hurt you. I’d kill them first,” he said.
She winced. “Your head really hurts, doesn’t it?” She lifted her hand to gently touch his head.
Her fingers felt like silk against his skin. Soothing, but sexy. His heart thumped harder in his chest. His reaction took him off guard. He looked at her lips and wondered how her mouth would feel beneath his. He dipped his gaze lower to her throat, then to her breasts. Hearing her soft intake of breath, he looked into her eyes and caught the signal of her awareness of him as a man. Her gaze darkened and she bit her lip.
He lifted his thumb to her lip where her white teeth marred the plump bow shape. “No biting or I’ll have to kiss it and make it better.”