by Lori Foster
To distract the men from his subtle movements toward the window, he suggested, “You don’t want my death plaguing your conscience, sweetheart. Remove the jacket. You can’t have anything all that singularly special to hide.”
“Huh?”
Floyd wasn’t as confused as Ralph. “Yeah, it ain’t like all of us men here, even Pops, haven’t seen a woman naked before. And I really will have Ralph shoot him. Hell, I’m looking for a reason.”
Her brows beetled down and her eyes narrowed. “It’s no skin off my nose what you do with him.”
At that moment Ralph looked out the window and cursed, then cursed again. “There’s a couple of cops over at the jewelry store.”
He was distracted for that moment, and Harry started forward, only to be brought up short as Ralph swung around, the gun moving wildly in his hand from Pops to the girl to Harry. “What do we do now, Floyd?”
But Floyd was already moving, snatching the envelope from Pops with a muttered warning, then pulling his own gun. He pointed it at Harry. “Out the back. You’re coming with us.”
Harry’s first thought was, Thank God, they’re taking me instead of the girl. Not that he was a hero, but he was trained for this, knew how to handle it. But then Floyd grabbed her, too.
Harry’s muscles tightened all the way down to his toes. “Stop and think, Floyd. You don’t need her. She’ll just slow you down.”
“If she tries that, she’ll be sorry.” And he sounded deadly serious, all fun and games over.
“One hostage is more than adequate.”
“Be quiet, damn it. I’ve heard all I want to hear from you. Now move.”
With guns at their backs, Harry and the girl were forced to exit out the rear of the store. Was Dalton still waiting for a signal? He wouldn’t get one, not now. But why were the police there? Had Dalton somehow known things had gone wrong even without Harry’s signal?
There were no answers to be found, and no more time to consider the circumstances as they were led through a light rain to a rental truck left parked in the dark alley. The sun was all but gone, and the mid-June air felt cool and thick. Floyd waved his gun, directing them into the open back of the truck. After hopping in, Harry turned to assist the woman, but she scrambled awkwardly in on her own, disdainfully ignoring his hand.
“You drive, Ralph. I’ll ride in here with the little lady.” His grin was more of a leer. “You two, into the corner. Sit and keep your mouths shut.”
Harry took off his long trench coat and gallantly spread it over the dusty bottom of the empty truck floor, then signaled for the woman to sit. She gave him a furious look and perversely retreated into an opposite corner, slumping down and wrapping her arms around her bent legs. Her position pulled the jean material tight around her thighs and he could see she was slender, her bottom rounded. He forced his gaze to her face.
She looked dejected and in deep thought, but not, thankfully, as frightened as she should be. Her cheek was dark and swollen where she’d been hit, spurring his anger. Harry carefully lowered himself, keeping his eyes alternately on Floyd and the woman.
He hadn’t counted on such a predicament when he’d agreed to take care of things for Dalton. He certainly hadn’t counted on his attention being diverted by a woman. Any woman, but much less one who was trying to be a man and had an attitude problem. Out of all the female types in the world, headstrong, bossy, controlling women were his very least favorite. He’d had his fill of them long ago.
Yet he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.
Dim illumination filled the back of the truck as a small, battery-operated light came on. Ralph pulled the door down from the outside, sealing the three of them in. Harry knew he had to adjust his plans. He couldn’t risk the possibility of being taken among the conspirators. The odds wouldn’t be good and now he had an outsider to think about.
He eyed the woman again. Why was she involved? He didn’t doubt for a moment that she’d been up to something, but his brain couldn’t dredge up a single plausible motivation. She hadn’t been aware of what she’d blundered into until it was too late, of that he was certain.
Floyd paced the back of the truck, agitated, for a good fifteen minutes while the truck raced farther and farther away from the police. No sirens sounded in the distance; there was nothing but the gentle patter of the rain and the grinding of the shifting truck gears.
“Sit together,” Floyd said as he slid down the opposite wall and propped the gun on a knee. “I want to be able to keep you both in my sights.”
Harry merely raised a brow at the woman and with a muttered oath, she stood and came to him, then plopped back down. “Bastard,” she whispered.
Taken aback, Harry said aloud, and with a good deal of annoyance, “I beg your pardon?”
Suddenly she turned and slugged him in the arm. “This is all your fault! They were paying me no mind until you drew their attention to me.”
He rubbed his arm where she’d socked him, more out of indignation than actual hurt, as he eyed her furious expression. “How was I to know Floyd and Ralph were too ignorant to recognize a woman when she presented herself?” Unaccountable female hysterics. He knew he was frowning at her, knew his frown was enough to frighten most grown men, and didn’t care one whit. If he scared her, it served her right.
She slugged him again. “I was disguised, you fool!”
He caught her fist and held it, careful not to hurt her, then leaned so close their noses almost touched. Through clenched teeth, he growled, “Obviously not well enough since I picked you out right away.”
He heard her swallow. Her eyes shifted on his face, nearly crossing, then finally narrowed in suspicion. “How?”
Knowing he held Floyd’s fascinated attention, Harry saw no reason not to explain. In fact, he relished the moment. “Actually, you have a woman’s mouth.”
He looked at her mouth again—now set in a mulish line—and felt his stomach muscles tighten. He swallowed. Damn her. His gaze came back up to hers and stayed there. “You have a woman’s bottom,” he said with a taunting smile, “despite the baggy jeans. You also move like a woman.”
He grinned, pulling her slightly toward him, primed for his last tribute. “And you smell very much like a woman.”
The hit was direct; she stiffened and sputtered. “Don’t be stupid! I’m not wearing perfume.”
He searched her face, amazed by his own reaction. He answered softly. “I know.”
Floyd laughed, once again showing his perfect white teeth. “I hadn’t looked at her butt.” He shrugged. “I thought she was a guy.”
Effectively distracted, Harry blinked and moved a little away from her, but maintained his grip on her punching arm. “Yes, well, she afforded me an unimpeded view. And since I’m a… healthy male, and I noticed, I knew she had to be female.”
“Warped male logic,” she accused with excessive heat, and tried to jerk her hand away. He held firm. “So why did you have to make my sex known to the other two idiots?”
“Careful.” Floyd was no longer amused.
“That was unintentional.” When she huffed, he added, “I was trying to protect you, you ungrateful child.”
“I’m not a child.”
“How old are you?” Floyd asked. It amazed Harry that Floyd could be so easily diverted.
“None of your damn business!”
The rain began to come down in earnest, sounding like gunshots on the roof of the truck. Gears shifted, throwing Harry slightly off-balance and completely toppling the girl.
Floyd stretched out his legs to brace himself. “I’d say you’re young, but not too young.” He frowned in consideration. “No one’s following us and we have a ways to go yet. Maybe you should just get naked now so I can judge for myself. You look a little too flat for my tastes, but you never know.”
The truck shifted again and they were all three caught scrambling for balance. Floyd crudely cursed Ralph’s driving abilities. The woman landed on her hands and
knees and, looking comparable to a rabid dog, she shouted, “For the last time you miserable worm, I am not taking anything off!”
Harry silently applauded her bravado, misplaced as it seemed.
Judging by the incredulous look on Floyd’s face, he wouldn’t be patient much longer, and with each mile that passed, their odds of getting out of this unscathed decreased.
They rode steadily uphill. From what Harry could tell they were heading out into the farming area. No residential homes there, and people would be scarce. He had to do something before they covered too much ground.
Harry got an idea. Risky, but he had to make an effort.
He bent a stern look on the woman and demanded, “Why not? For heaven’s sake, your bosom can’t be so spectacular that it’s worth my life. Don’t think I’ve forgotten you were willing to see me die to protect your dubious modesty.”
She looked surprised, frozen, for only a heartbeat. Slowly, she turned to face him, her back to Floyd, her hands on her hips. Then to his shock, she gave him a wink, no smile, just that understanding wink that nearly floored him. At the same time she yelled, “I should have known you weren’t really a hero! You’re as bad as the other two.”
He almost grinned. He did surge to his feet to tower over her. “Almost as bad? I’ll have you know they’re babies compared to me.”
Floyd sputtered, no longer enjoying their show.
The woman leaped at him, the truck veered sharply left and they went down in a welter of arms and legs. Floyd yelled for them to stop, but they paid no heed. Their bodies rolled toward Floyd, twisting and fighting.
Harry made feigned attempts to subdue her while she did her best to bludgeon him with fists and feet. He caught himself alternately chuckling and struggling to keep from getting his nose broken. A sharp elbow in the ribs made him grunt.
Finally, finally Floyd got within reach, determined to end their scuffle. The woman neatly tripped him, and as he stumbled Harry snatched his gun hand and raised it to the roof, then clipped him hard in the chin.
He had very large, solid fists and Floyd went down without a whimper.
Breathing hard, the woman turned to him, stuck out her hand and said, “Thanks. I was starting to worry. My name’s Charlie.”
Harry laughed. “Charlie? I suppose that fits as well as anything else. You may call me Harry.” He took her hand, noticing how slim and warm her fingers felt, then asked, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She snorted rudely as her eyes darted around the truck. “I say we toss his sorry butt out the back. I have things to do and they don’t include going… wherever the hell it is we’re going. Plus I have no desire to meet their pal, Carlyle.”
Harry studied her, again stupefied. “You’re not at all upset? You weren’t frightened?”
“’Course I was.”
She didn’t look frightened. She looked determined to drag poor Floyd’s body to the edge of the truck bed so she could throw him out. Never mind that it would probably kill him. Wasn’t she squeamish about such a thing?
“Don’t just stand there, give me a hand here. He’s heavy.”
Nope, not squeamish. Damn vicious female.
She could at least pretend some feminine qualities. He really didn’t like bossy, overbearing women. Harry crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, miss, since you do seem rather set on your course, but I’m not up to killing a man.”
“Coward.” She heaved and pushed and dragged the body closer to the edge. “Besides, who says he’ll die?”
“Now listen here—”
She jerked upright, her face flushed, one thick wisp of glossy black hair now hanging over her right eye. “No, you listen! You got me involved in this with your damn nosiness and misplaced heroism. This is all your fault. The very least you can do is… is… ” Her voice dropped off and she covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook.
Harry had the horrible suspicion she might be crying.
Good God. He hadn’t wanted her to be that female.
Bewitched
CHAPTER TWO
************************************************************************************************
“Don’t you touch me.” Charlie stared at the behemoth coming toward her, his expression now bemused. She drew a deep breath, absolutely refusing to give in to her tears, her disappointment She felt humiliated and decided most of it was his fault. She lifted her chin in the air and said with disdain, “You’ve done plenty, already.”
He held up his hands—very large, capable hands. “I’m sorry. But we don’t have time for this.” She started to speak, but then he put the gun in the back of his belt, and she wanted that gun, damn him. She didn’t trust him, didn’t trust anyone at this point, and needed to be able to protect herself. Whoever would have thought a simple Monday could get so dastardly confused?
After all her efforts to move Floyd—and she really did want to toss his body out—it took Harry only a second to heave him to the other end of the truck bed, well out of danger from falling out.
He pulled a knife from his own pocket, stripped off Floyd’s jacket, and proceeded to cut it up. He used the cloth strips to tie and gag Floyd in record time.
“Now.” He stood and dusted off his hands.
He seemed to have things well in control and that annoyed her anew. At first, he’d seemed too pretentious to get involved in a scuffle. But once he’d gotten involved, he’d been beyond impressive. It wasn’t what she’d expected of him at all.
She was used to being the one in control, the one people came to for help. This man acted as though getting kidnapped and held at gunpoint was a regular part of his workweek. “Now what?”
The truck shifted again and Harry braced himself before giving her a wary, probing look. “You’re not going to cry?”
“No.” Charlie almost laughed at his look of relief. She hadn’t figured him to be the type to fall apart over female tears. She gave him a sideways look. “How about you?”
He paused, stared at her a moment, then raised his brows. “I’m holding up. Completely dry-eyed.”
“Good, because I can’t stand blubbering men.”
He gave her a small smile—a very charming smile actually, and she was beyond shocked that she noticed. She ducked her chin to avoid looking at him.
“We’re on an incline,” he noted thoughtfully. He picked up his coat from the corner, shook it out, then slipped it back on. “Let me get the door open and see where we’re headed.”
Charlie bit her lip and mustered up a calm tone. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she’d always heard. “Since you have the knife, I’ll hold the gun.”
“No.”
She bristled at his blunt reply. “Why not?”
Harry carefully lifted the door a foot or so, then laid on his belly and peeked out. He kept looking at her over his shoulder, as if he expected her to push him out as she’d planned to do with Floyd. It wasn’t a bad idea, except that it’d be impossible; he was twice as big as Floyd and very alert. Besides, she didn’t particularly want to get that close to him.
His thick brown hair dripped with rain when he pulled his head back inside. “We’re near the Waynes-wood exit.”
Charlie gasped. “Wayneswood!” She hadn’t realized they’d traveled quite so far. Her heart started an erratic pounding. “I have to get home.”
“Come here.” Harry lifted the door a bit more and sat, hanging his legs over the edge. He took the time to overlap his long coat, protecting his trousers as much as possible from the pounding rain.
Once Charlie had settled beside him—accepting whatever his plan might be, because she had none of her own—Harry took her hand. She jerked and had to struggle not to pull away. She didn’t want to look like a wilting ninny.
“As the truck travels uphill,” Harry explained, “it will have to slow down even more. We can jump out then. Luckily the rain will help conceal us, in the event Ralph glances out
his mirror.”
“It’s too dark for him to see us.”
“Perhaps. But a flash of movement might draw his attention and we can’t take the chance. So lie low as soon as you can. Just flatten out on the road and we’ll hope the truck keeps going. I don’t relish the idea of getting into a shoot-out.”
“Coward. Give me the gun.”
He grinned and shook his head at her. “Valiant try, but I don’t provoke that easily, so you can hold the insults.”
He completely ignored the rude sound she made.
“Besides, I have experience in handling guns.”
His large hand felt so warm, and his muscled thigh pressed hard against her own. She shivered. Hand-holding with an appealing man was definitely not on the agenda for today. For the most part, it hadn’t been on the agenda for her entire life. Raising her free hand, she flicked her earring with the flattened bullet attached. “So do I.”
“You mean that trinket is real? And here I thought it was part of your costume.”
She ground her teeth. He was humoring her, and she wouldn’t put up with it. “It’s real.”
“Hmm.” She was very aware of his thumb rubbing along her knuckles, and his close scrutiny. “Whatever could you possibly be involved in that would require a gun?”
To ease her own tension, and diffuse his attentions, she said, “I own a bar. Usually it’s as dull as dishwater, but one night things got too rowdy and there was gunfire. This particular bullet missed my head by an inch. I decided it was lucky. You?”
He watched her too closely and far too long before he answered. With an elegant shrug he said, “I’m a private investigator.” And that was that.
With no more confidences forthcoming, Charlie turned her attention back to the weather. “We’re going to be drenched.” Already her jeans were wet at the bottom. Her legs didn’t extend nearly as far as his, but the rain blew furiously in all directions.
“True enough. However, it’s not all that cold yet and the rain helps to mask the noise we make in the truck. I’m grateful to Mother Nature for her assistance.”
