Taxi (Take It Off #11)

by Cambria Hebert

  How long had she been trapped in the backseat of that cab, wondering what was happening to her? How long had she stared at the passing streets, knowing she had no control and looking up to see a man in a mask in the driver’s seat?

  Holy fucking shit, I couldn’t even have made this up.

  “When I woke up, I was chained to this pipe.”

  “Rose…” I began, one of my hands slowly rubbing her back. “How bad have they hurt you?”

  “Not too bad. You stopped him before he could…” She shivered.

  Yeah. It was official. I was pissed at myself I hadn’t just killed him when I had the chance.

  “I’m here now. I’ll protect you from him,” I vowed.

  She made a sound and pulled back to look at me. “You can’t. You’re just as much a prisoner now as I am.”

  I drew her back to my chest and said nothing.

  “Why is your hair damp, Rose?” I murmured a little while later.

  “He dumped a bucket of water on me.”

  The muscles in my jaw clenched. “You’re exhausted. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

  “I can’t.”

  I gave her a gentle squeeze. “Yes, you can. I’ll watch over you, wake you up if they come back.”

  “Aren’t you tired?”

  “Nah, I got some extra sleep last night.” I lied. Truth was I’d just come off a double shift. Besides the four hours of sleep I’d grabbed in the doctor’s lounge at the hospital, I hadn’t had any.

  Rose needed the rest way more than I did. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to sleep right now even if I tried. I had too much to think through and surroundings to study.

  She did that little movement with her cheek again, pressing closer. My heart constricted. Tucking my legs in close and my arms farther around her, I made sure she was tightly surrounded by me.

  It was the best I could offer right now in the way of making her situation a little better.

  “Maybe just a few minutes.” Her voice was muffled against my chest.

  I smiled over her head. “I’m pretty comfortable, huh?”

  Her head lifted, sincere wide eyes looking up at me. It was very dim in here, but I knew their color. Her eyes were a beautiful muted shade of green that contrasted to perfection against her light-red hair.

  “I’m so sorry you’re here, Derek.” She began. “But at the same time, I’m so glad.”

  “I know, sweetheart,” I whispered, pushing her head back into my chest. “I feel the same way.”

  Within minutes, her body relaxed into mine and her breathing turned deep. Without thought, I brushed a kiss along the top of her head.

  What were the odds I’d be kidnapped and chained up beside a woman I’d developed a serious coffee habit just so I could see?

  I hadn’t even liked coffee until I passed by her truck one morning and heard her light laugh float to my ears the same way the scent of her freshly ground coffee beans wafted to my nose. The second my eyes found her standing behind the counter, making lattes and handing out muffins, I’d been enamored.

  I flirted with her every chance I got.

  I’d been wanting to spend more time with her.

  This wasn’t what I had in mind.

  Why her? Why me?

  What in the hell was going on?

  9

  Rose

  Was fate laughing at me?

  Was I being Punked? The second I opened my eyes, I began looking around for a celebrity who was going to jump out and tell us we were on candid camera.

  I didn’t see any celebrities.

  I didn’t even think Punked was on TV anymore.

  Honestly, I didn’t even look around that good. I didn’t want to lift my head. I liked it where it was, pressed into Derek’s chest. His shirt was soft against my cheek, and his body heat was nothing short of delicious. He’d totally been right when he said he was the best seat in the house.

  It was no small feat to make someone feel comfortable in a circumstance like ours.

  My eyes squeezed shut with the thought. I wasn’t ready to face reality again just yet. For the first time since climbing into the back of that cab, I’d been able to relax. My body didn’t hurt from being so tense. My fingers and toes weren’t stinging with cold. I wasn’t lying here wondering how much time I had left before I died.

  And he smelled good.

  Strong. I never would have thought strong had a scent, but now I knew. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was stinky from the gym. Still, his sweat wasn’t smelly, and it didn’t make me wrinkle my nose. I caught myself more than once, since allowing myself to relax into him, inhaling just a little bit deeper.

  I was a little less scared with him here. I felt now there was definite hope of escaping. He exuded strength. When I first woke up in this place, I was totally freaked out, but not Derek. He was calm and confident, like he knew this was only temporary and we’d be able to get away.

  His confidence inspired me to hold on to my own.

  Would anyone else have been able to make me feel this way in such grim circumstances?

  I doubted it. I knew Derek. He was familiar to me.

  Not long after I started parking Curbside Coffee at the hospital, I caught my first glimpse of him. Derek had the kind of presence people noticed. Just walking across the campus of the hospital drew eyes his way. At first, I watched him out of fascination; he was incredibly good-looking.

  His hair was the color of coffee, deep and rich. When the sun hit it, a burnished chestnut color reflected off the strands. He wore it longer than most doctors there. It wasn’t cropped close to his head or buzzed into a nonexistent style. Instead, it was long on the top, a little floppy, which I found totally adorable. Oftentimes, when he would smile at me or flirt, it would fall over his forehead and into his deep-brown eyes.

  Sometimes I’d see him stop to talk to people as he was on his way in, and he’d grin, the white of his teeth contrasting immensely against the dark, neatly trimmed beard. He’d always laugh and push his hand through his hair.

  If he knew how much his presence affected others, he never acted like it. There was an unpretentious air always about him. He was always smiling like he was a genuinely happy person. I bet he had one hell of a bedside manner.

  As if his outgoing, easy personality and model good looks weren’t enough, he was also a doctor. Not just a doctor, but a surgeon.

  He wasn’t the type of guy to just introduce himself as such. I knew because I heard people talk about him. I wasn’t the only woman who would stop what she was doing to stare. All the nurses and hospital staff would, too. I eavesdropped on more than one conversation at the coffee truck, just to learn a little more about him.

  Derek was well liked among his colleagues, and from what else I could gather, he was also a workaholic, totally dedicated to his patients. The nurses all speculated that’s why he was single. His job, which made him even hotter, ironically, was also his one fatal flaw.

  Apparently, most women didn’t want to compete with his career for attention.

  I totally had him pegged as a non-coffee drinker (which frankly I thought was his one fatal flaw) because I’d seen him for weeks walking to and from the buildings, and not once did he carry a coffee cup.

  Most doctors lived on the juice. Hell, almost everyone that worked at the hospital did. It was why Curbside Coffee had literally become a permanent fixture there. I had a steady flow of customers on a daily basis. I never had to look around for anyone in need of coffee. I never had to worry about where to park the truck.

  I parked in the same spot every day, and everyone came to me.

  I’d worried at first the hospital would get angry with me for being here. Maybe there was some kind of café inside I was taking business from. So I marched into the admin offices and asked for permission.

  I got it. In fact, they told me they’d like it if I’d make my truck an everyday occurrence.

  I’d always loved the mobility of my truck, and I still d
id. But I loved working at the hospital. I loved the faces I saw on a daily basis, and I loved seeing new ones passing through as well.

  Derek wasn’t a new face, but the first time he stepped up to my truck, it took everything in me not to gape in surprise.

  “You drink coffee?” I’d practically gasped the second I saw him.

  He’d laughed, adjusted the gray backpack on his shoulder (he always carried a backpack to and from work), and replied, “Doesn’t everybody?”

  I heard angels sing and wedding chimes in the air that day.

  Okay, I didn’t. But there were butterflies in my belly.

  After that, he came to my truck almost every day. I looked for his face in every customer that approached. At first, we’d just exchange pleasantries and generic comments about the weather.

  I didn’t care. Hell, I’d talk with him about anything and it would be amazing.

  Gradually, we started talking for real. He’d mention his patients (no names or specifics of course) or the long hours he was set to work. I’d talk about coffee and whatever I was up to that day. He started flirting with me. I flirted back.

  He always ordered the same thing, black coffee with cream, but it never seemed like his type of drink. One day I told him that. He laughed, a kind of sheepish look in his eyes. I’d wondered about it, but before I could ask, he challenged me to make him something I thought he would like.

  I made him a cinnamon cappuccino with extra foam and a hint of maple syrup instead of sugar.

  I made good coffee. No. I made damn good coffee. The best. But handing over that drink that day made me want to chew off all my nails in anxiety.

  I’d watched him aptly as he took the first sip.

  His eyes turned thoughtful, and I knew the second the flavors burst across his tongue and the heat of the drink slid down to his belly.

  “Are you a witch?” he’d asked, a twinkle in his eyes. “No,” he said before I could answer. “You’re too beautiful to be a witch.”

  I blushed. I always blushed around him.

  “You’re a fairy A coffee fairy.” He’d held up the mug. “This is the best damn coffee I’ve ever had.”

  I’d been high on that complement the rest of the week. Now, whenever I saw him approach, it was that drink I made him.

  Now we were here.

  What were the odds? Why him? Why me?

  I’d always hoped he’d ask me out. I didn’t care what the gossips at my cart said about his hectic schedule. Any time I got to spend with him seemed like it would be worth it.

  Being kidnapped was not a date.

  Being held by him right now was not because it wasn’t romantic (even though part of me was totally squeeing with glee).

  We were thrown together, both victims of something criminal I still didn’t understand.

  Derek must have sensed the change in me. His palm rubbed up the side of my arm. “Doing okay?” he murmured.

  “How long was I asleep?” I asked, lifting my head.

  “A while.” His eyes swept over my features.

  My gaze dropped to his mouth. His lips were full and soft-looking. I loved to watch him talk because I would imagine what it was like for those lips to move against mine.

  I shook off the thought. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking of kissing. Now was the time to be thinking about surviving.

  “Did you recognize the man who kidnapped you?” he asked, still rubbing my arm.

  I shook my head. “I’ve never seen either of them before.”

  “So there are only two?”

  I nodded. “Only the one was in the cab, the one you… um, pulled off me.” His eyes narrowed and his lips drew into a line. I hurried on to say, “But there was the other one here. He’s the one that pointed the gun at us.”

  “You get a good look at him?”

  I nodded. “I didn’t recognize him either.”

  “Have they said anything to you? Anything at all?”

  He was trying to find a reason. Some kind of explanation or link as to why this was happening. I knew what he was going through. I’d been wracking my brain since I got here, but I was no closer now than before.

  I pulled my hands into my lap and let the sleeves of the sweatshirt fall over my fingers. Still in the center of his legs, I straightened so we were facing each other. “They haven’t said much. I pretended to be asleep when I first got here so they would leave me alone. I heard them arguing, but it didn’t tell me anything. Then one got a phone call—I think he might be in charge—and they left.”

  “How long were they gone?” he asked.

  “Almost the entire day. When they came back, they were carrying you in the room.” I fell silent but then remembered. “They seem concerned about our well-being.”

  He laughed, and I scowled at him. “I mean, the boss told the taxi man to be careful with you. He said he needed you uninjured.”

  “What else?” he pressed, somehow sensing I still had more to say.

  “The boss said he needed me unharmed, too.”

  “Why would you kidnap two people if you didn’t want to harm them?” Derek mulled over the words as if he’d been talking to himself.

  “They said something else I thought was odd.” I recalled.

  “Tell me,” Derek murmured and tucked a long, tangled strand of hair behind my ear.

  I pushed my face closer to his hand, and his palm flattened. I never realized how big his hands were until one rested against my cheek. “That’s some wingspan you got there,” I mused.

  With one stroke against my cheekbone, he pulled back, holding the same hand between us. “I have hands of a surgeon, you know,” he confided. It was the first time he’d ever actually sounded a little arrogant.

  It was kind of a turn-on.

  “What’s so special about that?” I asked.

  “A surgeon’s hands are very skilled.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Is that so?”

  He nodded once and picked up my wrapped fingers. The pad of his thumb brushed over the back of my hand while his fingers caressed the exposed part of my palm. “Steady, too.”

  “Is that why you haven’t been freaking out yet? Because you’re skilled and steady?”

  “No, darlin’,” he drawled. I didn’t notice a Southern drawl much anymore because I was surrounded by them on a daily basis. But oh my word. I heard it just then, and it put me in danger of swooning. “My hands are skilled and steady, but the rest of me is all man.”

  Little shivers raced up my spine. He was so enticing.

  “Then why aren’t you scared?”

  “I am. But just like you, I’m not going to let fear disable me.”

  Not only were his hands skilled and steady, but so was his tongue.

  With words. His tongue was skilled with words.

  Geesh. Get your minds out of the gutter.

  Although, I’d be a big fat liar if I said the other skills he might possess didn’t cross my mind.

  Bringing my mind back to the matter at hand and the fact I had something to tell him, I refocused, trying not to think too much about what it felt like to have my fingers enclosed by his.

  “When they were talking earlier, before they showed up with you, the boss said something I thought was a little strange.”

  Derek nodded, encouraging.

  “He said plans had changed. Then he said I was his problem now.”

  “His who?” He frowned.

  “That’s what I didn’t understand. They acted like someone else was involved.”

  “Can you remember anything else?”

  I shook my head slowly. “No. I’ve mostly been here alone.”

  “You’re not alone anymore,” he replied and pulled me close again.

  My arms slipped around his waist to hug him close, enjoying the feel and comfort of him for a few seconds more before sitting back and straightening. As much as I wanted to bury my face against him and pretend this was a bad dream, I wouldn’t.

  We had work to
do.

  I was glad to not be alone. Maybe between the both of us, we could figure a way out of here.

  10

  Derek

  I had to get out of here.

  Time was not on my side. On Rocco’s side.

  A harvested organ was only viable for so long. The clock was ticking.

  If I didn’t find a way out of here soon, the promise I’d made to my sister¸ to my nephew, and to myself would be broken. We’d been waiting years for a match.

  What if I didn’t make it?

  What if they couldn’t find another surgeon to take on the surgery?

  There were two other transplant doctors in Raleigh. Both were great doctors. One was currently out of the country on his honeymoon.

  The other was just as swamped as me.

  I had to be there. If I didn’t make it and Rocco didn’t get the transplant… I’d never forgive myself.

  Too many hours had passed. We’d been sitting here, and I couldn’t just sit around anymore.

  When I was first brought here, all my focus went to Rose. The second I saw her huddled against the pipe, with wet clothes, a punched face, and a void look in her eyes, I knew fear for the first time since waking up.

  Of course I was concerned for myself but more so for her.

  That told me a whole hell of a lot about how much I cared about her.

  My main focus became making sure she wasn’t seriously injured. Making sure she hadn’t been physically violated. She needed to get warm, and that scary empty look in her eyes needed to find somewhere else to live.

  Now that she rested for a while and we’d compared notes, we had to get of here.

  But how?

  “The way I see it…” I began, watching Rose scrape the metal handle against the hard floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. The concrete already had a slight path in it; scrape marks from her repeated movement. It was working, though. Gradually, the end of the handle was becoming a little sharper. “It’s two against two. We can take them.”

  “They have a gun.” She pointed out.

  “They want us unharmed. They aren’t going to shoot us.” I countered. If I’d known that little tidbit when they pointed the gun at her earlier, I wouldn’t have given in so readily.