by Brenda Novak
It was quiet for a moment while she mulled things over. He caught a glimpse of her profile—high cheekbones and long lashes. He couldn’t remember the last time it felt this good to talk to someone. His mom and sister had visited him in prison every few months, at least in the beginning, but there had never been enough time to get past the small talk. And there was certainly no reason to talk about his innocence, especially since he’d seen the truth in their eyes, at least in his sister’s eyes. She thought he’d killed Dirk; it was written all over her face. She must have noticed that it pained him to talk to her, since she hadn’t come to visit him in the past two years.
“Why did Colin want to sell the business?” she asked, breaking into the silence.
“Once I had time to think about it, his eagerness to sell didn’t surprise me. Colin and I were friends long before college. He always said he wanted to retire at a young age, park himself on a beach and drink piña coladas. I told him if he was serious about retiring, I would buy him out. No motivation there.”
“So, did he sell the business after you went to prison?”
“He did.”
“You signed the papers?”
He nodded. “By the time the business sold, I had already been in prison for a few years. I signed power of attorney over to my mother.”
“What happens if they find you before you learn anything new?”
“I can’t think about that. The only thing I know for sure is that I won’t be going back to prison.”
“What are you saying?”
“Just that I’m not going back without a fight,” he said. “I can’t live like that. Freedom is everything. It’s all I have left.”
She tapped a finger against the dashboard. “So, if there are no suspects, other than you, where do you start?”
“With Mike Gabaldon, my defense lawyer. He knows something. As far as I’m concerned, someone paid him off to make sure I stayed in prison for good. I was naïve back then. I didn’t see the truth until it was too late.”
They pulled in to a rest stop near Rochester, had a bite to eat and stretched their legs. After that, he taped her ankles and her seatbelt connection again. He didn’t like to do it, but he couldn’t take any chances either.
Angela spent another hour trying to pry his life story out of him, but finally drifted off to sleep. About four hours after that, driving through Ohio, his eyelids felt heavy. He got off at the next exit. Now that it was dark enough, he needed to find a bank.
It didn’t take him long to find a Bank of America sign. He pulled over and parked the car.
He hated to wake Angela up, but it had to be done. He couldn’t help but admire her long, slender neck and creamy skin before gently shaking her shoulder.
Startled, she looked at him with wide, fearful eyes. A few seconds passed before recognition settled within her sleepy green eyes. “Where are we?”
“The bank. I need to borrow some money.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I hate to do it, but clearly, there are no other options. When this is all over, I’ll pay you back the full amount borrowed, plus interest.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
He made quick work of cutting her ties, then grabbed her purse, found her wallet and handed it to her. If there weren’t cameras all over the place, he would go with her.
She looked from the wallet to him. “Are you coming with me?”
“No.”
She peered out the window.
“Don’t make this difficult for either of us, Angela. Just get as much money as you can and come right back. It’s past midnight. Nobody is around. If you run, I’ll be forced to come after you, and I won’t be happy. I’m tired. Go get the money.”
He watched her walk toward the ATM. He didn’t like what he was doing, but he had no other choice. In prison he’d only been allowed to spend money from his account. He’d known all along that if he ever escaped, he would have to rely on his mother to get some of his money to him. Until he got to California, he could either borrow money from Angela or rob a bank.
What was taking her so long? More worried about Angela than the cameras, he climbed out of the car and snuck up behind her. “What are you doing?”
She jumped. A piece of paper fell to the ground.
Leaning over, he scooped up the deposit slip he’d seen her writing on. “Help Me!” was scrawled in big, bold letters. He crumpled the paper in his fist. “Withdraw the money now, Angela.”
She did as he said. “I can only get four hundred dollars at a time.”
When she was done, he took hold of her elbow, walked her to the car, and fastened her in just as he had done before.
He returned to the freeway and an hour later, merged onto the Ohio Turnpike to search for a hotel. He took the Sandusky-Norwalk exit and passed up a few places with vacancies until he found a secluded inn farther off the main drag. The place was rundown, the sort of stop for those on a tight budget. Half the letters were missing on their sign. It was well past midnight and there weren’t many cars in the parking lot. It would have to do.
Angela hadn’t said one word since they’d left the bank. But now she looked worried. “What are you doing?”
“I need some shut-eye.”
She gazed out at the building with its chipped paint, and the litter scattered across the parking lot. “I could drive for a while.”
“I don’t think so.” He climbed out of the car, came around to the other side, and cut all her bindings.
She didn’t budge.
“You’re not afraid of a few cockroaches, are you?”
With a huff, she climbed out, grabbed some of her things, including her pillow and blanket, and headed inside.
“One room,” he told the old man at the front desk. “With a view of the parking lot so I can keep an eye on my car.”
The man behind the counter had to be nearing the hundred-year mark. No way was this guy going to recognize him. They headed down the hallway toward the elevators. Their room was on the third floor.
***
Angela watched him inspect the room. He looked out the window and then shut the curtains tight. The place was small and dingy. The carpet was stained. She didn’t want to look in the bathroom, but he told her she had fifteen minutes to clean up, so she grabbed her toiletries along with a clean T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and headed inside.
The porcelain tub had seen better days, but the water pressure was decent and the water was gloriously hot. Unfortunately there were no windows from which to escape. And even if there were, she couldn’t jump three stories without breaking a limb. And where would she go anyhow? Still, if she ever got the chance to run, she needed to take it. She didn’t know this guy from Adam. He could be lying about killing his partner, for all she knew.
As she scrubbed her scalp with shampoo, she couldn’t help thinking about Rob and Christine. Although she never wanted to see either of them again, it had taken seeing the two of them tangled in her sheets to realize she’d stayed with him for all the wrong reasons. Rob had been right about there relationship. They had nothing in common. She and Rob were oil and water, sweet and sour. She wasn’t in love with Rob. Never had been. In the beginning, she’d found him to be a charming man. But the truth was, he talked too much. He gossiped more than any woman she’d ever met. And his bowties were almost as annoying as his wheezy laugh.
Her mom, though, without ever having met Rob, insisted he was the catch of the century—a keeper. Though why she would care what her mom thought about Rob, or any other man, she had no idea. Detouring to visit her mother, who lived in Nebraska, she suddenly realized, might be her best chance to escape.
Once she was dressed, she opened the door, started back into the room, but suddenly stopped, involuntarily wrinkling her nose as her gaze fell to the floor.
Chris happened to be standing at the door, his arms crossed. “What’s the problem?”
“The carpet is gross and
I don’t have any socks on.”
Without hesitating, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
“Put me down.”
He smiled at her as he pulled the tape from his pants pocket.
“No more tape,” she pleaded.
“You’ve already made it clear that I can’t trust you.”
After he fastened her hands to the wood-slatted headboard, he made sure that the telephone was out of her reach. He then checked the door lock, turned on the television, and clicked through the channels. “What do you want to watch?”
She didn’t answer.
He looked at her and smiled. “Am I getting the silent treatment?”
She glared at him.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he told her as he walked into the bathroom.
He wasn’t kidding. Five minutes later, he returned wearing nothing but a towel. He made a big show of flexing his muscles as he brushed his hair and took another look out the window.
As far as she knew, Rob had never lifted a weight in his life.
She watched Patterson push a chair and table in front of the door. When he was done, he sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, and cut the tape from her wrists. He was wearing the aftershave she’d bought for Rob.
Damn him.
Every muscle and tendon on the man had her mesmerized.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
Angry with herself for being so easily enthralled by his physique, she merely grunted as she slid off the bed. She sorted through her things. After putting on a pair of socks, she grabbed a cup of instant noodle soup mix she’d suggested he add to her bag before they left her apartment, added water, and placed the Styrofoam cup inside the microwave.
He turned on the television, flipped through every news channel, and then turned it off. Once more, he walked across the room and took a peek out the window.
She stood next to the microwave, waiting for the soup to be done, praying he would go back into the bathroom so she could make a run for it. All she had to do was talk to the man in the lobby. He would know what to do. “Are you ever going to get dressed?” she asked.
He looked over his shoulder. “Why? Is my naked chest bothering you?”
She crossed her arms. “As a matter of fact, it is.”
He walked toward her and looked down his nose at her. “After being locked up and forced to wear only prison garb for eight years, the luxury of choosing what I will or won’t wear is a thrill for me.” He looked into her eyes.
Refusing to be intimidated, she did the same.
“But for you, princess, I’ll get dressed.”
“I thought you were going to bed.”
“Not until you’re finished eating.”
“Why? What happens after that?”
“We both lie on the bed and I tape your ankle to mine.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious.”
“I won’t run. You can trust me.”
“I believe you said the same thing at the ATM.”
At least the man had the decency to go back into the bathroom and shut the door to put on his clothes.
She didn’t hesitate. She ran to the door and tried to pull it open. The table was heavy, but she managed to push it to the side. The chair was another story. It was a recliner with a metal frame, much too heavy to pull, so she positioned herself between the chair and the door and used her hip and then her legs to push it aside. Damn. There still wasn’t enough room to open the door.
She could hear the faucet running. He was brushing his teeth. She could do this. She just needed a few more inches. Gritting her teeth, she tried again. Victory! She squeezed her way out the door and ran.
She reached the elevator doors and pushed the down button. When it didn’t open right away, she ran for the stairwell. But just as she was about to grasp the stairwell door handle, he grabbed her from behind. Once again he clamped a hand over her mouth and hauled her back to the room. After plopping her down on the bed, he hovered over her so closely that his nose nearly touched hers. His anger and frustration were downright palpable. “If you try that again, it’s over.”
A chill shot up her spine. She didn’t move, nor did she say a word as he locked the door and slid the furniture back into place.
“Can I eat my soup?”
“No.” He taped his right ankle to her left. When that was done, he pulled the sheets over both of them and shut off the light.
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”
He said nothing.
“Who are you?”
“What are you talking about now?”
“If you’re not a killer. If you’re truly innocent…who are you?”
“Just a regular guy trying to make it in this godforsaken world. That’s who. But life isn’t fair. We both know that. Now go to sleep.”
She’d pissed him off and she wasn’t sure why she felt so bad about it. He was an escaped convict. He had abducted her, stolen her money, and listened to her phone messages. He was moody and bossy.
And he was wearing Rob’s cologne. It was going to be a long night.
***
After just a few hours of sleep, Jason’s eyes shot open. He drew in some ragged breaths and slowly realized that there were no sounds of inmates banging on cell bars or crying in their sleep. Don’t go there, he told himself, as he came more fully awake. If he dwelt on the past eight years—eight years he’d never get back, he’d lose focus. He’d gotten too far now to let his anger get the best of him.
The warm, soft body curled up against him brought him quickly back to the matter at hand. He was in a hotel room with Angela Chack. Her soft breasts were pressed against his arm. Her head rested on his shoulder and he inhaled the clean scent of her hair.
Big mistake.
A jolt of awareness shot through him. He’d told her she wasn’t his type but that was a lie. There wasn’t anything about her that didn’t light him up. He enjoyed watching the subtle sway of her hips when she walked. The sound of her voice soothed him. Her green eyes mesmerized and the feel of her against him was too much to bear.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to gently move her away, but instead, she rolled on top of him and kissed him, a soft feathery kiss on the edge of his mouth.
She had no idea she was playing with fire. “You don’t want to do that,” he said in a low growl.
She kissed him again.
This kiss wasn’t anything like the first. It was hot, wet, passionate. Her lips were on his, her tongue exploring. She was intoxicating. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. The kiss grew deeper, hotter.
Suddenly, both of her hands were on his chest, pushing him away. “What are you doing?”
He could hardly see her in the dark, but he could hear the accusation in her tone. “You kissed me. Not the other way around.”
As best she could, she moved away from him, and pulled the sheet over her. He could hear her breathing, but she didn’t utter another word. Whatever that was, it ended as quickly as it had begun.
Chapter Six
They drove straight through Indiana and Illinois, didn’t stop until they entered Iowa and found a rest stop.
Jason leaned against the outside of the women’s bathroom and waited for Angela to finish up. If the place wasn’t empty, he might have worried about her talking to a stranger, alerting them to her situation. When she appeared, though, she smiled, revealing dimples he hadn’t noticed before. “You didn’t think I would come out of there, did you?” she asked.
“I was never worried.” He started off back to the car. She followed.
“About that kiss last night—”
“Forget about it,” he said as they walked.
“I want to apologize. I was half asleep. I thought you were Rob.”
“No need to apologize. I enjoyed it as much as you did.” He started walking again.
“I didn’t enjoy it at all.”
He grunted.
“Please, just let me go. My friends are probably worried about me. Kidnapping isn’t going to help your case.”
“I already told you. I’ll let you go when we get to California.”
“Why not now?”
“It’s too soon.”
He didn’t want to look at her, afraid if he did he might get the urge to take her right back to the hotel and finish what they had started last night. Having her warm body next to his had made it difficult to sleep, but the truth was, even if she wanted to make love to him, he wasn’t sure he would go through with it. For one thing, they didn’t trust each other, and he wasn’t that callous. But besides that, she was a young, beautiful woman who had her whole life ahead of her. He could end up back in jail, or worse, dead. He didn’t want her to do something she would later regret. Once they got to California they would never see each other again.
It wasn’t until he reached the car and opened the passenger door that he noticed she was gone.
He looked around, then frowned when he saw her jogging across the parking lot toward a semi idling across the way. She didn’t waste any time chatting it up with the driver. By the time he caught up to her, the truck driver had opened the passenger door and invited her to get inside.
Jason grabbed hold of her arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She looked over her shoulder at him, her green eyes sparkling beneath the bright rays of the sun cracking through the clouds. “This nice man said he would be happy to give me a ride.”
“I bet he would.”
The truck driver was, as they say, built like a truck. He also had a shaved head, and his neck was bigger than a tree trunk. The sleeves of his dirty shirt were rolled up to his shoulders, so that Jason could read Stan tattooed on his right arm.
“Move along, mister,” Stan told him. “The woman wants to go with me.”
“Give me a minute to talk to her and then I’ll leave her be.”
Stan nodded and Jason pulled Angela far enough away so he couldn’t overhear. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like? You don’t need or want my help. Besides, you can’t exactly throw me over your shoulder and take me back to the car now, can you? I would scream so long and loud, a dozen cops would be on your tail within five minutes.”