by Diana Duncan
"Han Solo."
"Huh?" He flicked a quick, puzzled glance at her.
Common sense told her to shut up. Screaming nerves made her babble on. "You're quoting Han Solo."
"You are one nutty broad." The handsome felon shook his head. "Don't worry, I know exactly what I'm doing. They'll blink."
Obviously he was delusional, too. So much for negotiation. She gripped the dash with fingers gone numb. Her entire body felt numb. Her mind struggled in slow motion, her thought processes clogged by fear. For heaven's sake, talk your way out of this. Logic. Logic never failed her. "Have you tried this demented maneuver before?"
"Yep, twice."
"And it worked?"
He urged the car even faster. "Not the first time."
Tessa took a fortifying breath. "And the second?"
He chuckled. "I'll let you know in about five seconds."
The car rocketed forward, the tires skimming over the highway. The force pushed her back against the seat. Tessa stared at the police cars hurtling toward them and her stomach rolled, bitter bile rising up in her throat.
Her life flashed before her eyes in a horrifying squeal of tires and blaring horns.
The thief's deep laugh rang out. "See? No problem."
"Who are you, the Angel of Death?" she croaked. Her stomach lurched in warning. "Oh, no." Frantic, her gaze spun wildly around the car.
The robber glanced at her and groaned. "Here we go."
The car was swept clean, nothing to get sick in. Her desperate gaze locked on the money bags behind his seat. If she could get one open in time…
"Oh, no you don't. I need that. Uncontaminated." He thrust the ski mask at her.
She snatched the quilted cap and turned away from him, mightily regretting those chocolate doughnuts. After several horrible minutes, she felt much better. Holding the ruined mask between two fingers, she looked at the door handle, then at the scenery flashing by. "Um…"
"No evidence." His right hand reached past her to open the glove compartment.
She deposited her burden and slammed the door. Out of sight, but definitely not out of mind. She heaved a short-lived sigh of relief. One problem solved. Kind of. She glared warily at her captor. Served him right for driving like the lunatic he was.
She glanced into the side mirror at the empty street behind them. Her kidnapper had evaded the police. Her heart stumbled into an uneven gait.
She was on her own.
* * *
Chapter 2
« ^ »
The thief pulled over in front of a warehouse in a run-down neighborhood. A fresh rush of adrenaline surged through Tessa. Now that they'd stopped rocketing through space at warp speed, maybe she could escape. Negotiation and logic were out. Time to try Mel's swift kick in the chops, or anywhere else she could manage. As her captor exited the car, she tensed, waiting for an opportunity.
He sauntered around to open her door, offering his hand.
Now or never. Make your move. Heart pounding, she leapt out, rammed the door into him and tore down the sidewalk.
She made it five yards before his arm snaked around her waist and yanked her against his hard body. Even as her mad dash for freedom crashed and burned, his clean male scent invaded her senses, and she blinked away dizziness. Who knew a wild-and-crazy bank robber would smell so good?
"That door hit a little too close to my favorite part of my anatomy, honey. Unless you want to find yourself bound and gagged, chill out." But his silky threat sounded more amused than angry. For a bank robber, he seemed amazingly easygoing.
He marched her into the building. Every nerve ending she possessed jittered in alarm, making her breathing much too rapid. Hold it together. Stay alert, you'll get another chance to escape. They climbed three flights of broken stairs and then her captor followed her down a gloomy corridor. He lifted the bar on a steel door and the screech of rusted metal echoed in the hallway.
The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled, then stood on end as she reluctantly preceded him into a large, dim room. A storage facility from the looks of it.
The robber grasped the back of a dusty wooden chair. "Sit," his deep voice ordered.
Annoyance burned away some of her trepidation. Who did this cretin think he was, anyway? "I am not a dog," she huffed.
His chuckle rumbled out again. "Plant yourself in the chair. Pretty please," he added in a sugary tone.
Seeing no other choice, she obeyed. Behind her, his jacket rustled. Aware of her vulnerable position, she stiffened, her short choppy breaths not conveying nearly enough oxygen to her lungs. So far, her captor had been good-natured and surprisingly gentle. Even when he'd used his superior strength to control her, she'd sensed him holding back. But what would he do now that he had her alone, and at his mercy?
Without warning, his hands gripped her shoulders. In spite of herself, she flinched.
"Easy." His voice moved closer to her ear. "I'm not going to hurt you." His low reassurance slid out, rich and mellow.
His deep baritone wrapped around her like the hot darkness of a sultry summer night, blanketing her uneasiness in warmth. A tingling ripple spiraled up her spine, sparking a shiver.
"Are you cold?"
Her muddled thoughts focused on his question and she shook her head. Tense, jumpy and anxious, you bet. But whatever unfamiliar mixed cocktail of emotions had made her shiver, she wasn't cold.
"Listen up. I've got some loose ends to deal with. I should tie and gag you…"
Her every muscle clenched. Over my dead body!
He gently squeezed her shoulders. "But I won't. There's no way out, and if you've got any brainy ideas about screaming for help, eighty-six them. Any 'help' you attract in this neighborhood won't be the kind you want. I'll be back soon. You'll be safe if you stay put and don't do anything stupid. Got it?"
She nodded. As he walked away, she heard the whisper of clothing. The door creaked open and then slammed shut. The bar clanked into place, leaving her alone in the gloomy silence.
Relief swirled through her. Like a dream, a sense of unreality clouded her mind. Crazy surprises didn't happen to Tessa Beaumont. She kept her life ordered, predictable and controlled. Being kidnapped was not scheduled in her planner in neat script—blue for daily schedule, green for appointments and red for urgent matters.
What would happen when the thief returned? He'd said he wasn't going to hurt her, and so far, he'd kept his word. But rule number one in the Deranged Kidnappers' Handbook was probably, "Keep the victim calm and obedient." Unfortunately, she'd been too busy with wedding plans to take that kickboxing course with Mel last month.
Though the roguish robber seemed more than capable of handling a whole class of self-defense graduates. With his looks, one of his sunny smiles was enough to disarm any female between nine and ninety. Glowing with a combination of sensuality and mischief, his infectious grin had incited a flood of response deep inside.
Tessa straightened. What was wrong with her? The shock must have unhinged her mind. No way would she meekly wait for him in this dump like an expired certificate of deposit.
As if to drive home the thought, rustling and sharp squeaks erupted from the corner. She gulped. Rats? Yelping, she scrambled onto the chair, her gaze skittering around the room.
Bundled newspapers littered the floor and three cardboard boxes leaned drunkenly in a corner. Not much to aid a jailbreak, but a small window high on the opposite wall offered some hope.
In one of Tessa's favorite movies, Goldie Hawn thwarted kidnappers by climbing out a window to the tire escape. But even if Tessa could reach the narrow window, it promised a tight fit.
She mentally compared the window to her hips, glad she'd skipped lunch.
After a hesitant glance at the now-quiet corner, she stepped down, and dragged the chair over. Even with the added height, the sill was out of reach.
As her gaze lingered on the cardboard boxes, an idea formed. Tessa grabbed newspapers and dumped them inside
a box. She lifted the filled box onto the chair before fetching another carton and more papers. Papers with raggedly chewed edges. A shudder rippled through her. She lifted another stack and uncovered a pile of droppings. Ugh! Inspired to work even faster, she finished the last box and stacked it on top of the others, then stood back to assess her makeshift ladder. Not bad.
Sucking in a breath, she hiked up her long skirt to climb onto the wobbly pile. Her head now reached the bottom of the sill. A grin creased her face. She could do this! Her jacket hampered her movements, and she had to unbutton it in order to pull herself up and peer out the grimy panes.
Her fingers tightened on the sill as her hopes unraveled. No fire escape. "What now, Goldie?" she muttered.
Refusing to knuckle under to despair, her gaze swept the outside of the building. A drainpipe bolted to the bricks with metal brackets ran clear to the ground like a miniature ladder. Her palms grew slick with perspiration. The rusty pipe looked much too fragile for her peace of mind.
More squeaks and shuffles burst from the corner and a rat the size of a house cat skittered across the floor. She shrieked and tried to scrabble onto the windowsill, but her calf-length skirt and flapping jacket made gymnastics impossible.
She had no choice. Teetering on the swaying boxes, she stripped off her suit. Nothing would stop her from going out that window now. Not with a pack of giant rodents eager to tear her to shreds. She'd never be able to climb wearing her slippery half slip, thigh-high stockings and pumps, so they came off, too. She tied her clothing and shoes into a bundle.
Dressed in a purple satin bra and matching panties, she clamped the bundle between her teeth, levered her knees up onto the sill, and shoved open the filthy, peeling window frame. The alley below was empty, so she dropped her clothes to the ground before shimmying out the opening headfirst.
Her stomach jittering, she stretched out her arms, grabbed the pipe and swung over. With sweaty hands and shaking limbs, she clung to the slender pole, the only thing between her and a three-story fall. If this were a movie, she'd be at the police station drinking a cup of coffee with Chevy Chase by now. "Don't look down," she muttered, and began to hum to boost her courage. She arched her foot and felt for the first bracket, gingerly testing her weight. It held! Inch by terrifying inch, she climbed down.
She stepped onto the asphalt and pumped her arms in a victory salute. "Yes!" she crowed. Now, to get her clothes, find a phone, and call the police.
"Going somewhere?" a silky male voice asked.
Tessa's heart bucked and then lurched into an unsteady gait. She whirled, her arms shielding her half-naked torso.
Her handsome captor leaned against the wall with her bundle of clothes dangling from one finger. A wide, wicked grin lit up his face. "A tad informally dressed for an escape, aren't we?"
Clear, cool, rain-forest-green eyes sparkling with amusement studied her intently. Her breath hitched in her throat. The world stopped, frozen, as she fell into those jade depths. Realization hit. Caught. Again. Half naked. Her body went ice cold. Then heat whipped into her face.
"You could have died during that gutsy stunt," he drawled.
"Rats." She wrapped her arms around herself and scowled at him to disguise her apprehension. He'd told her to stay put. Would he punish her for trying to flee? "You locked me in there with giant killer rats."
His lips twitched. "I didn't know about the mutant rats. Sorry." He thrust her clothes at her. "Get dressed."
She snatched the bundle from him, and Gabe turned to give her some privacy, chuckling to himself. He wouldn't have missed that for a million bucks. Dressed in purple skivvies, with a halo of chestnut curls rioting over her shoulders, clutching the drainpipe for dear life and humming "Be My Teddy Bear" at the top of her lungs, Kitten should have looked ridiculous.
But she hadn't. She'd looked sexy as hell. Desire snaked through him, heating his blood. He wanted to run his fingers through her thick, shiny curls. Kiss those luscious pink lips. Cup her generous breasts in his palms—
Whoa! Where did that come from? She's your prisoner, Colton, and under your protection. You might have taken her hostage, but that's all you're taking.
"I'm dressed." Her indignant voice broke into his thoughts, again only a slight tremor revealing her distress. In spite of the fact that she had to be terrified, she was a pretty cool customer. Not to mention her ingenious jail break. If he'd arrived two minutes later, she'd be nothing but a memory. His admiration grew, encompassing not only her physical attributes, but her mental ones as well. He must be losing his mind.
With confusion throbbing in his temples, he gripped her arm. "Come on, Houdini." He hustled her down the alley to a gray Jag and helped her inside before climbing in himself.
"You changed vehicles."
The engine roared to life and Gabe maneuvered out of the alley. "Very observant. Yes, this is a Jaguar XK8, and you'll never find a sweeter ride. Except…" He grinned at her. "One other." She scowled at him again and Gabe chuckled. Damn, she was cute when she scrunched up her nose like that. He fished a bottle of motion sickness pills out of his pocket and tossed the vial to her. "Take a couple of these. I don't have any more ski masks, and we're in for a long drive. There's soda in the cooler behind your seat and some sandwiches if you're hungry."
"Look, you seem reasonably intelligent." She'd regained control over her voice, but a lingering edge of apprehension clouded her lovely eyes. "Be sensible and let me go. You can move faster, and the police won't hunt you as intensely without a hostage."
"What's your name?"
She eyed him warily. "Tessa."
Gabe shifted gears and the car roared past an oil truck. "For your own protection, I can't turn you loose. Unfortunately, you've stumbled into a bad situation, which I can't explain." He wished he could. But if he could find out how much she knew and still keep her in the dark, he might be able to safely release her. For her sake, he hoped so. The scum he'd just thwarted with his rip-off played for keeps, and they'd already left too many bodies in their wake. Whether either of them liked it or not, Gabe had been thrust into the role of guardian angel. He covered her hand with his. "I'm Gabriel. Call me Gabe."
She slapped his hand away. "Keep your hands to yourself. So, who are you, really? Bank robbers are edgy and taciturn, they don't make jokes. They don't take hostages on the spur of the moment unless they're trapped. And they're certainly not considerate of their captives. You're having way too much fun." Her remarkable eyes narrowed. "I suspect you've got an agenda. The misplaced payroll checks in the bags you asked about, maybe?"
He bit back a grin. The lady was way too smart for her own good. His impulsive decision to grab her had netted him a lot more than he'd bargained for. "Relax. You're safe with me. But the less you know, the better."
"Let me guess. You could tell me, but then you'd have to kill me." She glanced out the window, her conflicted body language telling him she wanted to believe him, but didn't quite dare. "Where are we going?"
"A place where I can protect you until I sort this mess out."
"And how long will that be?"
"Ah, yes. You mentioned an important appointment?"
"I'm getting married in two weeks and I have a million details and an overbearing future mother-in-law to deal with."
"Why do you want to do an idiotic thing like get married?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"A rolling stone gathers no chains." Gabe shuddered. "I can't imagine anything worse. Except being locked in prison."
"Try being kidnapped, taken on a roller-coaster car ride by a lunatic and jailed with giant rats. Not to mention having your promotion blown to kingdom come." She frowned. "You are disturbed. But I suppose your attitude shouldn't be surprising for someone who robs banks for enjoyment."
He threw back his head and laughed. "You've got a point. Now swallow a couple of those pills. I don't want to have to run the inside of the Jag through a car wash, it's a loaner."
"Or stolen. A th
rill a minute."
"Why, Tessa, I'm hurt." Gabe fluttered one hand over his heart. "You have such a low opinion of me."
"If the ski mask fits…"
He grinned. "Hand me a couple sandwiches, would you? I'm starving."
Tessa woke disoriented on a double bed in a paneled room. She remembered trees streaming past the car window and then fading to a blur. The pills must have knocked her out, a normal side effect. But everything was swaying, not a normal side effect. She blinked, but the room continued to roll. High-pitched squawking scraped across her eardrums. The rhythmic slap of water caught her attention, and terror clawed up her spine.
She tore open the door and raced upstairs, then skidded to a horrified stop. Endless blue-green waves crashed across the horizon of the Pacific Ocean. A scream ripped out of her and she collapsed, shaking. Her chest heaved in labored breaths.
Pounding footsteps vibrated the boards, and then Gabe's strong hands gripped her shoulders. "Tessa, what's the matter?"
She tried to speak, but couldn't. Head spinning, her vision darkened. Her lungs convulsed and her heart galloped.
"Listen to me," Gabe's deep voice commanded. "You're hyperventilating. Take slow breaths, in through your nose and out your mouth." He pulled her into his embrace and his warm hand rubbed her back. "Easy does it. Slow your breaths down, honey.
She obeyed, and as her breathing slowed, her vision cleared.
"That's it." His arms tightened. "Now tell me what's wrong."
Trembling violently, she clung to him. "Off the ocean," she gasped. "Get me away from the ocean—off this boat."
"What the—? This is my yacht, Serendipity, and she's entirely seaworthy. Nothing's going to happen to you here."
Tessa burst into tears, involuntarily digging her nails through the nubby white cotton of his sweater, into his arms. "I want off," she begged. "Now!"
"All right." He stroked her hair. "Let go of me so I can get the launch."
She managed to unclamp her fingers, and he rose. Arms wrapped around herself, she huddled on the deck, trapped in the nightmare that had haunted her since age six. She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to breathe.