“I do have a long memory,” she threatened in return.
She ought to have told the couple what was really going on. But either they would have called the authorities or tried to stop Micah themselves. The first would have meant trading one jailer for another. As for the second—who knew what the bounty hunter might have done to physically overpower the poor elderly couple?
Even as she thought it, Angela knew she was being unfair. Micah hadn’t actually done a thing to hurt her…though his frame of mind might have shifted now.
Once in the room, he forced her onto the bed, which squeaked and squealed until she settled down. Then he found his jeans and, shoving his hand into the pocket, pulled out his wallet. He balanced it in his hand for a moment before setting it down and digging out the car keys. Leaving the pants on the chair, he headed for the door, apparently unconcerned about his state of undress.
Angela couldn’t stop herself. “What are you doing?”
“I have a surprise. Don’t try to leave before I can give it to you.”
If that doesn’t have an ominous ring…
She glared him out of the room. Surprise, indeed. Nothing he could do would throw her after what she’d been through in less than twenty-four hours. Rather than playing guessing games, she needed to formulate Plan B.
But Micah didn’t even give her enough time to get started. He was back in a flash, hiding something behind his back. She thoroughly distrusted his benign smile as he planted himself at the side of the bed.
“What?”
“I promised you a surprise. Hold out your hand.”
She narrowed her gaze. “I don’t think so.”
Before she knew what was happening, he took hold of her right hand anyway and placed something cold and hard around her wrist.
“Hey!”
Click.
Shocked at being handcuffed, she scowled at him, not realizing exactly what he was about until he pulled it up to the headboard. She tried to stop him, whipping up her other arm, and for her trouble, played right into his plan. He cuffed her other wrist.
Handcuffed to the headboard! How dare he!
For a moment she was speechless. No one had ever treated her so callously. But Angela wasn’t one to let things go without a protest.
“What if I have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night?” she demanded, then was sorry she had found her voice.
His smirk of satisfaction grated on her nerves.
“Wake me. Maybe I’ll be able to find the right key.”
Furious, she tugged at the headboard, willing it to fall apart. But it proved more solidly built than the rest of the creaky motel.
“Now maybe I can get some sleep,” he said, throwing himself down next to her.
Now?
“You weren’t sleeping before?”
“Knowing you were up to something? Not hardly. Where’d you hide the cash?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know—the green stuff you stole from my wallet.”
“I planned to pay back every penny.”
“Sure you did. Where is it?”
He didn’t believe her. He not only thought she was a liar, but a thief, as well.
Micah shifted and straddled her. Bringing his face close to hers, he softly asked, “Where, Angel?”
Fearing he would dream up further degradations by searching her if she didn’t confess, Angela figured giving it up was the wisest course.
“Undo these handcuffs and I’ll get the money for you.”
He laughed softly and shook his head. “Don’t think so. Not when I finally have you where I want you.”
His wording gave her a start. What exactly did he mean? Aware that she was vulnerable, that he could do anything to her and she couldn’t stop him, Angela felt an unfamiliar anxiety creep through her. Her stomach knotted and her mouth went so dry that she could hardly speak.
“In front.”
“You’re wearing a garter?”
She shook her head once and closed her eyes so she didn’t have to look into his face. “The bodice.”
“You won’t mind if I relieve you of what’s mine.”
Her whole body stiff with tension, she gritted her teeth against the imagined ordeal.
Micah lifted his weight from her chest, his thighs remaining around her hips. Then his fingers lightly dipped into the hollow between her breasts. Her flesh pebbled and she sucked in her breath, waiting to see what he would do.
The crackle of paper told her he’d found the bills. Grasping the money, he freed it from her corset…
…Then rolled back to his side, the springs protesting with a series of squeaks.
That was it?
Angela opened one eye to see him counting the money! He didn’t even trust her to return it all. Anger sputtered through her lips as she finally released her breath.
“Something wrong?” he asked with a wide-eyed expression of the completely innocent.
She refused to dignify his question with an answer. He shrugged and replaced the bills in his wallet, then flipped off the room light.
Within seconds he fell back into bed with a groan.
Within minutes he was snoring.
And Angela was left wide awake with her disappointment and mortification.
Handcuffed like a common criminal—this was beyond bearing. She’d wanted only to be free of him, to take her life back, but at every turn he took the upper hand.
And he hadn’t done it alone, Angela admitted ruefully.
She couldn’t forget the part she’d played at the truck stop. She’d been so wrapped up in their game of oneupmanship that she hadn’t even tried to get away. Well, no more. Finally her head was on straight, and when she put her mind to it, nothing could stop her from getting what she wanted. From coming out on top. From being number one.
Starting now, she’d let nothing distract her.
Especially not Micah Kaminsky.
She spent awhile sorting through and discarding various options—ways of overcoming Micah’s sheer superior strength. Her strength lay in her intelligence.
Think. Concentrate.
One moment her mind was blank. The next, a workable idea came to her, though she was chagrined at having to take advantage of the wedding gown after wanting to be free of it. The more she thought about it, the more the notion appealed to her, until she finally embraced it despite the negatives. Micah wouldn’t give her up without a fight. She would choose her champion carefully.
Though she’d never approved of violence, these were desperate times….
That settled, Angela figured she’d better concentrate on getting some sleep. She needed all her resources if she was going to succeed.
But try as she might, she couldn’t ignore the warm body stretched out alongside her. Every time she tried, the kiss replayed itself in her mind, and she wondered what it would have been like had it been for real.
And when he rolled onto his side, his arm sliding across her waist, she wondered what it would be like to be held in Micah’s arms voluntarily.
How ridiculous. The bounty hunter was all wrong for her—not that he was interested, anyway—and if her plan went according to schedule, she would be free of him at last. And then she’d never have to see him again, voluntarily or otherwise. He would be out of her life for good.
A small ache that she could never satisfy…that went beyond the physical…began creeping through her.
She’d get him for that, too.
THE NEXT MORNING BEGAN dismally, her plan off schedule from the start. At dawn, Micah left her trapped in the room while he fetched a minimalist breakfast. She consumed doughnuts and coffee with one hand, while the other remained cuffed and secured to the headboard.
“Afraid you can’t even control me while you’re awake?” she asked, setting her paper coffee cup down on the chair he’d been so accommodating to provide.
Swallowing the last of what had to be his fifth doughnut, he said, “I’m choosing t
o err on the side of caution.”
He was erring, big time. Angela was counting the moments.
That he didn’t keep her handcuffed inside the car once they got on the road took her by surprise. That and his not playing twenty questions as they cruised west toward the Minnesota border. He knew enough about her, anyway. And she knew so little about him. Time to change that. Maybe he’d even let down his guard.
“So, how old were you when you decided you wanted to be a bounty hunter?”
Sunglasses masking his gaze once more, he glanced at her. “Actually, that was never a goal of mine.”
“What was?”
“Staying out of jail, mostly.”
Struck by the odd answer, Angela frowned. She supposed posed his being from the inner city meant he’d had to become a member of a gang to survive. Maybe that’s where he’d learned to derail alarm systems and such. But no matter his background, surely he’d had dreams of some sort.
“That’s the first time I’ve heard of ‘staying out of jail’ as being someone’s goal in life.”
“Funny, I thought we had that in common.”
The reminder put her back up. “We don’t have anything in common.”
“I know. You’re a lady and I’m what? Common? A boor?”
She’d never said that. “Rough around the edges.”
“A nice way of putting it.”
“At least I’m honest.”
“Are you? About everything?”
She lifted her chin. “Of course.”
“I’m surprised no one’s nominated you for sainthood.”
If he was trying to irritate her, he was doing a fair job. Under other circumstances, he might have been able to get her going. But Angela kept her plan in mind, and, therefore, her temper under control.
“You’re getting off track.” Purposely, no doubt, so he wouldn’t have to open up. “We were talking about you,” she reminded him. “If I’m forced to be in your company, I should at least know something about you more than name, rank and serial number.” Actually, she didn’t even know that much. “So what about your family? You have a family, right? Or did you pop out of a pod?”
“Now I’m a pod person?” He snorted. “How Mom would have liked your sense of humor.”
“Would have?”
“Would have,” he echoed soberly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Not as much as I am.”
At least she had her parents. Parent, she corrected herself, since her father didn’t count. So maybe she and Micah did have something in common—having both lost someone they loved, if in different ways.
“What about the rest of your family?”
“Pop’s partial to sweet, softhearted women with forgiving natures,” Micah said. “Though he probably would appreciate your…uh, spirit…once he got used to you. My younger brother, Harry, loves any woman who’s smart and attractive. And our little sister, Rona, would say that I deserved you.”
Deserved her?
That sounding far too personal, she said, “The question wasn’t about me.”
“I thought everything was about you.”
Stung into silence, Angela fumed. Micah made her sound selfish and spoiled, while she was neither. She’d never had the time or interest to be self-indulgent. She worked hard, always had…and she’d always kept her family’s welfare uppermost in mind.
Without her own hand guiding the business, they would have been comfortable. She had no doubts her mother would have seen to that even if the poor woman had had to work herself into the ground. Angela had never played modest about being the one who had propelled Here Comes the Bride into growing and diversifying, becoming a viable company rather than a small business. But she hadn’t worked so hard for herself alone.
If Micah believed she had, he didn’t know her half as well as he thought he did.
Plan B nudged to be liberated.
“I need to make a pit stop,” she announced.
“Soon,” he promised.
But rather than taking an exit to a truck stop or town, he pulled off at a state rest stop. Tourists—mostly families with kids—filled the building that boasted maps as well as drinking fountains and rest rooms. No one she could single out here. Several transport trucks sat in the separate parking lot on the other side of the building, but the drivers remained near their vehicles.
Back on the road, she waited a while before complaining, “I’m starving. Those doughnuts don’t last forever.”
“Check the backseat. You’ll find some sandwiches in an insulated bag.”
Headed off again.
Every bite of the sandwich nearly choked her with frustration.
Angela was wound up tight by the time they crossed the Mississippi River into Minnesota. Micah finally picked up speed as did the drivers around them. A Jeep came darting out of nowhere, nearly cutting them off before dropping back. As she saw it, she realized they were hurtling away from civilization, and her chances for escape were dwindling.
“This seat is getting to me,” she complained as they paralleled the river. “I need to get out of the car and stretch my back.”
“If we keep stopping, we’ll never get to Nevada. Though I suppose that’s the idea.”
“Sorry I’m not accustomed to being trapped in a moving vehicle for hours at a time.”
“Get used to it.”
As heartless as he sounded, Micah took the turnoff to the state park facing the river. This time, however, he avoided the information center and the few passenger vehicles parked in the lot. Angela noted they were on a bluff overlooking a section of the Mississippi’s lock and dam system. He pulled in to a slot facing the mighty river.
She slid out of the Thunderbird and took note of two semis parked at the far end of the lot. The drivers were nowhere to be seen. No doubt they were either inside the information center or getting some shut-eye.
Her only hope was to stall.
Gazing longingly at the concrete promenade running along the river, she sighed. “A walk would do me wonders.”
The mirrored sunglasses winked at her where the sun struck them. Her paranoia was growing in leaps and bounds, because she swore Micah could not only sense her tension, but could read her mind as to what she was plotting.
Yet, finally, he agreed. “Five minutes. And don’t—”
“Try anything. Right.”
After preceding him down the few steps to the walkway, she glanced back toward the road exiting from the highway. Though it was clear now, two vehicles had arrived after them. A minivan near the information building released several kids with pent-up energy. She could hear their screams as they ran, one bumping into the other. And a tan four-by-four had stopped in the shade of a big maple tree.
“I thought you wanted to walk.”
His breath fluttered the hair around her face…and with it Angela’s insides. Micah was practically standing on top of her. Too aware of him for her own comfort, she didn’t need further encouragement to move off.
“I was just getting my bearings.” She scanned the river, where a barge was trapped in the system, waiting for the water to rise so it could move upstream. “Amazing how even the mightiest river can be harnessed.”
“Using the correct techniques, anything can be controlled.”
Disliking the intimate tone of his voice—not to mention the underlying meaning—she swept ahead, murmuring, “I wouldn’t be so sure of myself if I were you.”
Perched on a bench, an elderly man stared out at the activity on the water. From the opposite direction a harried-looking woman passed them pushing a stroller with one hand—the baby inside was screaming—and hanging on to an unruly toddler with the other. A teenaged couple huddled together in the shelter of a tree, the girl giggling softly as her boyfriend whispered in her ear.
Despite herself, Angela was enjoying the walk with Micah. For once he didn’t press her buttons, merely kept her company. And nature had a way of soothing her anxiety, anyway. The s
un. The breeze. Even the river, though its progress was artificially controlled in this area. She tuned in to the water’s rush over the dam and absently swatted a mosquito that was lunching on her arm.
The place was loaded with bloodthirsty insects.
Even so, reality intruded all too soon when Micah said, “Your five minutes are up.”
Reminding her she was his prisoner. “So they are.”
Not letting her disappointment get to her, Angela obediently turned back, her gaze sweeping the parking lot. Her spirits were buoyed by an eighteen-wheeler crawling into a parking slot.
Knowing she had to stall a bit, Angela made a show of stopping and stretching, rotating her shoulders and neck. “Oh, yeah, that’s feeling a lot better.”
“Good.” As if he suspected something, Micah suddenly grew impatient. “Then we can get going.”
“We certainly can.”
Ascending the half-dozen steps to the parking lot, she eyed the trucker climbing down from his cab. The situation was better than she’d hoped for. The burly, middle-aged man was big enough to dwarf Micah. Pacing her stride so they would pass him as he lumbered over to the information center, Angela controlled her growing excitement.
And ignored the regret brushing her deep inside.
Several yards from the trucker, she found the tear in her sleeve, a result of her roll on the pavement with Micah the night before. She stuck her fingers through the hole in the delicate material.
“Look at this, Micah! You ruined it!”
Micah’s shaded gaze met hers. “So?”
“You don’t even care about my wedding gown?” she cried loudly, getting the trucker’s full attention. “I should have listened to Mother when she warned me about you.”
“Angel…”
“Don’t Angel me! A wedding license doesn’t give you permission to be a brute!”
“Stop it, right now,” he ordered through clenched teeth.
He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm even as the trucker was about to pass them.
“Ouch! That’s where you bruised me before.” She stopped dead and gave the stranger an embarrassed expression before averting her gaze. “This is a big mistake, Micah. I don’t want to be with you anymore.”
“I don’t care what you want.”
Before The Fall Page 11
