He faced her again, with an impatient sigh. “Where are they?”
Her frown asked, Where are what?
“Your birth control pills, Mrs. Narby?”
Astonishment popped her eyes.
Buttercup yanked the tape off Lucy’s mouth in one swift tear. She screamed.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he warned.
“Master bathroom. Top vanity drawer. That hurt.”
Buttercup slapped the tape back over her mouth. A minute later Bubbles had returned with her monthly pill compact, which Buttercup pocketed.
Her birth control pills. Lucy couldn’t begin to figure that one out. Granted, these creeps seemed less than enthusiastic about plundering, which left that raping thing kind of front and center, but birth control pills?
Buttercup propelled her toward the door.
It was a chilly outside—mid to high forties. Downright arctic by Lucy’s admittedly wimpy standards, especially since the only thing between her pampered hide and the elements was a pair or mismatched flannel jammies.
A nearly full moon provided the only illumination. Her five-acre property was isolated from her nearest neighbors by dense woods and a quarter-mile cobblestone driveway. She’d always appreciated the solitude. Until tonight.
The tender soles of her feet found every sharp pebble as Buttercup and Blossom half dragged her toward a dark sedan parked out of sight of the house. Bubbles jogged ahead to pop the trunk.
She screamed beneath her gag as the men hoisted her and dumped her on top of a tire iron and a set of jumper cables. The trunk also held a coil of rope. Buttercup hogtied her with practiced efficiency, lashing her ankles and tethering them to her wrists by a short length of rope behind her bowed back.
Bubbles leaned into the trunk to taunt her, now that those lethal feet were safely restrained. His nose was a pomegranate. The moonlight turned all that blood to black warpaint. “I’b gudda hab sub fud wid you, bij. Just you wait.”
The other two exchanged a look. Buttercup elbowed Bubbles aside to blindfold Lucy with an oily rag.
The trunk lid slammed shut. She heard car doors open and close. The vehicle rocked and settled. The engine rumbled to life, turning the trunk into a vibration chamber.
Trussed as she was, Lucy couldn’t keep herself from pitching to and fro as the car started rolling. Her stomach lurched. Oh yeah, she thought, that’s just what I need right now. A geyser of ice cream, popcorn, and bourbon, with only her nostrils for an exit.
She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths, forced her mind to function. Why would anyone want to kidnap her? Correction: Why would two anyones want to kidnap her, these trick-or-treat maniacs and whoever hired those two whiny chuckleheads who came late to the party?
When had it become open season on Lucy Narby?
She had to keep her head, no matter what happened. It was her only chance.
Don’t panic, Lucy commanded herself, right before something small and furry crawled up her pajama leg.
About the Author
Pamela Burford is the award-winning author of fourteen romantic suspense and contemporary romance novels. She has received four RITA and Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award nominations and is a frequent speaker at writers’ conferences and workshops. Her books have received outstanding reviews and been translated into more than a dozen languages. She is the founder and past president of Long Island Romance Writers, a chapter of Romance Writers of America. Her sister Patricia Ryan, a.k.a. the Good Twin, is also a published novelist. Pamela invites you to visit her web site at http//:www.pamelaburford.com.
Table of Contents
Other books by Pamela Burford
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
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About the Author
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