by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
"What's this?"
"Your car, or it will be once the valet drives it up." She shifted slightly, wishing she had on something other than a clingy dress with layers of material adhering to her. The day promised to be a scorcher and traveling on the road was going to be no picnic. Ryker was probably the type who made you roll down your windows instead of using the air conditioning.
He looked at the ticket incredulously. "You put a stolen car in valet parking."
"Borrowed," she corrected. "I placed a borrowed car in valet parking." She smiled, as if it was a no-brainer. "Made it easier that way."
It was also safely out of the way rather than in plain sight the way it wouldn' t have been if she' d parked it on one of the adjacent streets.
"Borrowed," Max repeated, shaking his head. The woman was in a class by herself. "And just when did you intend on returning the 'borrowed' car?"
Also simple. "After I brought my man in."
"Where would you know where to find me?" he pressed, wanting to see how far she would carry the charade out. He thought she was just making this up as she went along. But to his surprise, she rattled off his address. "How did you—?"
She looked at him as if he had suddenly turned simple-minded. "The registration is in the glove compartment," she reminded him. Cara pointed to the uniformed man hurrying toward them. Dressed in green livery complete with a hat, the valet looked as if he was barely out of high school. "Give the ticket to the nice man and we'll be on our way."
Coming to a halt before them, the valet seemed to immediately hone on the steel bracelet linking Cara and Salim together. His eyes grew large.
"Are those handcuffs?" he asked in almost hushed reverence.
"Magic trick gone bad," Cara told him matter-of-factly.
"We've got a hacksaw around here somewhere," the valet offered, his eyes bobbing up and down like tiny black bouncing balls from her face to her cleavage.
Because the attention the valet tendered was so awkward and fumbling, Cara found it almost sweet. She smiled at him and could have sworn that he blushed in response.
"Don't worry yourself about it. It's under control." She slanted a look toward Max. "Give him the ticket, Ryker."
"I am being taken prisoner against my will," Weber suddenly yelled, pushing himself forward.
Though Salim was handcuffed to Cara, it was Max who pushed him back with the flat of his hand.
Surprised, the valet looked from Cara, to the man she was handcuffed to, to the other man with them, clearly in a quandary.
"Help me and I shall reward you," Weber promised urgently.
Cara twisted Weber's arm behind his back while smiling sweetly at the valet.
"Don't let him fool you," she warned. "Kevin kids like this all the time. We're professional actors. We give shows in front of children's groups all over the state. Kevin just did a line from A Thousand and One Arabian Nights. Pretty good, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, ma'am, um—" At a loss who to believe, the valet plucked the ticket from Max's hand and hurried off to retrieve the car that corresponded to the number on it. He was too nervous to look back.
One corner of Max's mouth curved upward. "A Thousand and One Arabian Nights?'
She shrugged. "It was the first thing that came to mind."
It had just popped into her head when she'd looked at Weber's olive complexion. It struck her that the man looked a little like he might have come from some country in the Far East.
She had no idea how close to the mark she'd come, Max thought. There was no doubt in his mind, now that he had seen "Weber" and listened to him speak that the man had to have originated from Tamir, the small island country that was not too far from Montebello. There were dark forces that originated from Tamir, forces that formed terrorists groups who disagreed with the current house in power there. And with nearly everyone else as well.
Silent up until this outburst, Weber cursed their souls to eternal hell.
"You will pay for this," he growled. "Both of you." He glared at Max contemptuously, his eyes becoming tiny, dark slits. "Especially you."
"No," Cara corrected. "You'll pay—or at least the bail bondsman will."
She looked from the prisoner at her side to Max, getting an uneasy feeling that there was a piece of the puzzle that she was missing or had somehow overlooked. Was she going to be in any kind of danger, going off with these two? Had she let her guard down already with the wrong person?
"You two know each other?" Weber lapsed into sullen silence. Turning, Cara looked at the private ' detective. "Well?"
He'd never seen Weber before he'd dispatched to bring him home. But that wasn't to say that Weber didn't know him. Half of Europe probably did, thanks to the tabloids. It had made big news when he'd disappeared off the face of the earth, only to eventually turn up in the States. "By reputation."
Cagey, she thought. He wasn't really answering her. "So what's he supposed to have done?"
He might have not known "Weber" but he knew his type. "Blown up a few things," Max said matter-of-factly.
She looked at Weber just as the valet finally drove up Max's car.
"Are you a terrorist, Weber?" There was a momentary flash of recognition in his eyes, but only surly silence met her question.
The valet hopped out of the black sports cars, looking at it enviously. He held the keys out to Max.
"It's all yours." He grinned from ear to ear like a friendly puppy when Max took the keys from him and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. "Sure I can't get that hacksaw for you?"
"We're sure," Max told him. He realized that Cara was moving toward the driver's side. "Where do you think you're going?"
She stopped, her hand on the driver's door. "I'm driving."
"Not attached to him you're not. Besides, it's my car, remember?" He could see that she was debating unhandcuffing herself so that she could take control of the vehicle. But her desire not to lose control of the prisoner won out.
"I'll get in the back," she muttered.
Max nodded. "Good idea."
She pushed Weber ahead of her into the vehicle, then slid in after him. It was going to be a long trip, she thought.
* * *
She shouldn't have had the extra large cola.
Her thirst had been overwhelming and gotten the better of her. When they had pulled into the last drive-through, over two hours ago, she hadn't really cared about getting anything to eat, but she had been eager to get something to drink.
Now she regretted it.
She needed to go to the bathroom. Bad. But there was no way she was going to bring Weber into the rest room with her. Neither did she want to leave him outside with Ryker and take a chance on '
being left stranded at some rundown gas station on highway 25, halfway between Colorado and hell.
Cara squirmed as discreetly as possible, telling herself it was merely a case of mind over matter. If she could just wrap her mind around something else, this urgent feeling she had wouldn't matter.
They'd driven in relative silence for the last hundred miles, rock songs from the eighties on the radio filling the emptiness within the car. The emptiness outside the car was almost overpowering.
In the distance, to the far left, Max saw what looked to be a vulture circling over something. It didn't give him a warm feeling.
This truly was a desolate country, he thought. At least, large sections of it were. His own country was little more than the size of New Mexico itself, with about as many people. It filled him with awe to be within a country that was so large, it could fit scores of countries within its borders.
Max looked in his rearview mirror, not at the road he'd just passed, but at the woman in the back. Unaware of his scrutiny, she appeared to be in a great deal of discomfort. He smiled to himself. It undoubtedly had to do with that huge container of soda she'd consumed.
He was beginning to know the way she thought. She was probably afraid that if she took off her handcuff and made a stop at a rest
room, he'd take off with the prisoner. The way, he had no doubt, that she would—unless he actually got her to give him her word. The fact that she had called room service before they left with the prisoner had shown him that she was honorable in her own way. It just took a bit of doing to tap into that honor.
As he'd told her earlier, he really wasn't sure just what to make of her.
Max glanced at the fuel gauge on the dashboard. The needle was beginning to dip below the quarter of a tank mark. They could definitely use a refill at the next station. Looking at the GPS monitor on his dashboard for his location, he hit the sign to locate the closest gas station in the area. The answer came up almost immediately. God, but he loved technology.
"There's a gas station five miles down the road." He watched her face for a reaction as he added, "What do you say we get some gas and get out to stretch our legs? I'm getting a little punchy playing chauffeur up here."
To his surprise, she looked more distressed than relieved. That didn't make any sense.
A gas station. That meant a bathroom. Oh God, why had she thought of that?
She pressed her legs together beneath the white dress, the gun digging into her skin. Cara shifted uncomfortably. "Okay by me."
They were there almost before the conversation was finished.
Pulling the car up to the pump, Max got out first. Instead of beginning to fill the tank, he opened the rear door.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
He took her arm and ushered her out. She was forced to pull Weber in her wake, but Max stopped her before she allowed the man to get out.
"Why don't you uncouple yourself from Weber and use the facilities?" Max suggested, lowering his voice. "Maybe change out of that dress into something a little more practical?"
Although, from where he stood, he could just as easily watch her wear that dress all the way back to Shady Rock. The perspiration had the material sticking to her breasts, reminding him just why God had gone to work so diligently on Adam's rib.
She looked at him knowingly, a frown curving her mouth.
"While you take off with Weber? I don't think so." To her surprise, Max handed her the keys he had just taken out of the ignition. "What's this?"
"Car keys. You obviously don't trust me and giving you my word doesn't seem to count, so I'm giving you the keys to the car."
Cara closed her hand over the keys, looking at him. Weber was still sitting in the car, his wrist shackled to hers.
"Why?"
"Because you look like you're about to explode and I hate to see anyone uncomfortable to that extent, even you," he added, knowing she expected it. The truth was, he wasn't feeling quite as hostile toward her as he had initially. She'd impressed him with her ability to track down Weber and her ingenuity. He couldn't dislike her. "Now for once in your life, trust someone, woman, and get in there before you embarrass yourself." He pointed toward the side door marked with the words Rest Room.
Ripe comments rose to her lips, but she didn't utter them. He was right. She was going to explode and she had no choice but to trust him.
Cara pressed her lips together. "Your word?"
He looked at her. "Would you believe it?"
She took a deep breath. "Yes."
Max inclined his head. "Then you have my word." A smile slid over his lips as he looked at the keys in her hand. "And my car keys."
She closed her hand over them. "Always nice to have a backup."
He pointed toward the small convenience store. "I'll get the key to the rest room for you while you take your handcuff off. Cuff him to the strap." He indicated the overhead extension. "He won't be able to hot-wire the car from the back."
The inference was not lost on her. Quickly she fished the keys to the handcuffs out of her purse and uncoupled herself from the prisoner.
"I am not an animal," he shouted at her, yanking hard at the strap she tethered the other cuff to. It didn't give and he cursed loudly. "When I get loose, you will pay for this, whore."
"You're not getting loose," she informed him tersely, "so you might as well save your breath with those threats."
With one eye on the interior of the car, she hurried around to the back. It was all she could do to contain herself as she popped open the trunk and took out the small valise she'd tossed in there with her change of clothes.
Max emerged from the small store just as she closed the trunk. He held out the rest-room key to her. It was mounted on a huge block of wood. She snatched the key from him so quickly, she almost whacked herself with the wood.
"Five minutes is all I need," she told Max, flying by him. "Less."
With that, she hurried into the rest room, praying that she hadn't made a mistake in trusting him. She would have felt better if she'd managed to let air out of one of the tires. By the time he would have gotten it filled again, she knew she would have been able to make it out.
She glanced over her shoulder before she shut the door.
Max waved her inside. "Go," he ordered. "We'll be right here, waiting."
Muttering a fragment of a prayer that he wasn't lying and she wasn't being incredibly naive, Cara let the door close behind her.
Chapter 9
Cara's fingers flew as she shed her dress.
The last time she'd gotten dressed this quickly, the house she was living in at the time had been on fire in the middle of the night. The clothes she'd hastily thrown over her nightgown had been the first she'd owned that hadn't been hand-me-downs cast off by someone else, bought with money she'd earned herself. There was no way she was going to allow them to be consumed by a fire.
Foolish, she knew, looking back, but at the time the clothes had represented her first real step toward independence, a badge she wore with pride, and she'd hung on to them.
This time it wasn't pride that spurred her on, but fear.
Grabbing the white dress and stiletto heels, not bothering to check anything as nonessential as her makeup and hair, Cara burst out of the rest room much the way she'd burst into it a few minutes earlier. Striding quickly, she hurried back to the gas pump, half convinced that though she'd rushed and still had the car keys clutched in her hand, Max had left with the prisoner and without her.
It took a second for the sight to register.
Max was leaning against the hood of the car, obviously finished pumping gas, obviously waiting for her.
Breathless looked appealing on her, Max thought almost against his will.
"You certainly do know how to make an entrance," he commented wryly.
She took a deep breath, hoping her voice wouldn't give her away. "You're still here."
"Why shouldn't I be? I gave you my word," he replied simply. "Unlike some, I keep my word." He looked at her pointedly. "It means something to me."
"That would be a first." He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her cynical comment. Since he'd been considerate, she elaborated. "Most of the people I know don't keep their word."
That would explain a great deal. Max straightened. "Maybe you should think about getting to know a new set of people."
"Maybe." Opening the trunk, she tossed in the white dress and heels, then closed it again. "All right, let's get going."
"Not just yet." She looked at him uncomprehendingly. "My turn," he informed her easily. "Or rather, our turn." He peered into the back seat at Weber. "How about it, 'Weber'? Care to have a bonding moment and accompany me to the rest room?"
If looks could kill, Max thought, the one from their mutual prisoner would be driving the last nail into his coffin even as he stood there.
"Go to hell," Weber spat.
"Possibly," Max allowed, "but not today. And, unless you're part camel, my guess is that you have to make use of the facilities as much as either one of us." Max put his hand out to Cara. "I need the key for the handcuffs. The car won't fit in there."
For a moment, she hesitated. Suspicion reared its head. Old habits died hard.
But then she took the key out of her
purse and handed it to Max. After all, she still had the car keys and the car. And there was thirty miles of nothing around them. Where could he go?
The last time there had been an abundance of nothing, she reminded herself, Ryker had managed to find transportation. A car, it had turned out, that only had enough life left within it to reach her. They'd left it where it had died. But that didn't negate the fact that the man seemed to lead a charmed life. She couldn't help but admire that. And him, though she didn't dwell on that. Extraneous emotions only got in the way.
She held her breath, watching him.
Max unlocked the handcuff that was attached to the overhead strap inside the car and snapped it around his own wrist. He tugged on the handcuff to get the prisoner moving. The latter looked at him malevolently.
"Let's go, 'Weber.' I'm not going to enjoy this any more than you are."
* * *
When they came back out again several minutes later, Max found Cara leaning against the building, situated less than five inches away from the rest room door. She made no effort to hide the fact.
He shook his head. "Still don't trust me?"
"Oh, I trust you," she assured him innocently. "I just got lonely."
Max laughed and shook his head. "Right."
Her eyes slid over to Weber. The man was becoming surlier with every mile that went by. He looked capable of killing them both where they stood. "Did he wash his hands and remember to behave?"
"He was a perfect gentleman—after a slight debate." Max strode to the car, pulling Weber in his wake, then stopped short of the driver's side. He looked back at Cara. "Tell you what. I'm beat. How about I stay in the back with our friend here and you drive? And take that suspicious look off your face, I'm not trying to put anything over on you, I'm just tired of driving, that's all."
She held up her hands in mute protest. "Never said a word."
"No, but you thought it."
He was right, she had. Cara opened up the driver's side and got in.
"So when did you become a mind reader?"
"Too general a term," he contradicted. "I'm not a mind reader. But I can read women." Opening the rear passenger door, he pushed Weber in first, then got in himself.
