by Debra Webb
Danes suddenly stopped.
He opened the passenger-side door of a black SUV. Did it belong to him? If so, why had the other man thought the car parked across the street from her house belonged to Danes? Had he thought that at all? She couldn't be sure. She'd assumed. None of this made sense now.
"Get in."
"Is this your car?" She shook her head. "What about the car parked across the street from my house?"
"Pay attention," he growled as he pulled her intimidatingly near. "Get in."
He'd told her to shut up. Her skin still burned where he'd held her chin. She nodded and climbed into the seat. He leaned in over her. She sank as far into the leather seat as possible, but it wasn't enough. His scent, something too subtle to distinguish, invaded her senses. The hard feel of his shoulder as she braced her hand against it in an effort to push him away, but he was far too strong. He withdrew some thing from his pocket and moved it over her purse. Small, black. A red light flashed on the small object.
He opened her purse and rifled through the contents.
"What're you doing?" she demanded when he pulled out the lipstick she carried. She didn't know why she bothered carrying it, she never used it.
He tossed the lipstick then moved his hand down the length of her legs, over her torso. Even in the sparse moonlight the intensity in his eyes unsettled her all the more. He checked her overnight bag in the same manner.
When he was satisfied he closed her door, swiftly skirted the hood, tossed her bag into the back seat and slid behind the steering wheel.
He'd driven to the end of the block and turned onto the main thoroughfare before he switched on the headlights. Angel tugged her seat belt into place and bit back the questions that rushed into her throat. She'd watched movies where devices were used to track the movement of vehicles and people. Is that why that red light had flashed on her purse and then he'd tossed her lipstick? She didn't dare ask.
This couldn't be happening. She rubbed at her eyes. Tried to think. Her hands shook so badly. She clasped them together and reached for a calm she knew she would not find.
Pay attention.
He'd told her to pay attention. That's what she needed to do. Where were they going? He took one turn after the other. Taking his time, moving forward a few blocks and then to the left. A right, then for ward through a couple of intersections. He made it difficult to follow but she finally decided that the interstate was his destination though she couldn't be absolutely certain until he'd taken the turn.
I-94 South.
Chicago.
Fear crashed into her. Was he taking her to the Colby Agency? Maybe he did intend to turn her over to the authorities.
To her surprise, once on the interstate, he took the first exit that came into view. Her heart pounded hard against her sternum. Where was he going now? She tried to think what was on this exit. He wheeled into the parking lot of a small motel and drove all the way to the back of the parking lot. Her fear mounted.
He got out, reached in the back seat for her bag then flashed her a look that told her in no uncertain terms to get out. At the front of the vehicle he latched on to her arm again and led her to a lower-level room. When he jammed the keycard into the lock she couldn't keep quiet any longer.
"What are we doing here?"
He ushered her inside and locked the door.
After a survey of the room with the same device he'd used on her purse he dropped her bag on the floor and shouldered out of his jacket. He tossed it onto the foot of the bed as if he intended to stay awhile.
"Enough." She'd had it. "What the hell are you doing? Why did you bring me here?"
He simply stared at her.
She hugged her arms around her middle. "They're going to kill my aunt," she said, her voice lacking enough strength to actually call her words a successful plea. It was too late…she knew it. She'd screwed up somehow.
He moved closer, that intense gaze searching her face. Maybe he would feel sorry for her and help her. She didn't care if he saved her…if he would only help her aunt, protect her child.
"Please," she murmured, desperation urging her to act. "You have to help her."
He moved so suddenly, so lightning fast that he'd pinned her against the wall before she'd realized he'd moved at all. The air rushed out of her lungs more from the intensity of his eyes than the impact. "Don't presume that we're on the same side," he whispered fiercely, his face so close to hers she could feel his breath on her lips.
A new kind of fear synapsed in her brain, igniting every cell in its path with sheer terror.
"When I told you to talk, I wanted everything. Clearly, you left out a few details."
He knew.
How could he know?
Oh, dear God. He'd tapped her phone. He had to have heard the conversation…but then why ask?
"I know they contacted you earlier this evening."
Was it her imagination or had the pressure of his touch eased slightly? The fear throbbing inside her made it difficult to judge.
"Yes," she relented. She had to breathe, once, twice.
"One of them called."
His hold relaxed. "What were his instructions?"
He didn't know. Relief trickled into the mix of churning emotions. He might have been listening but somehow he hadn't been able to hear…to under stand…Something.
She still had a chance here. This had to be part of whatever they'd planned for Danes. Some kind of crazy game. But why would they want to play games? So much didn't make sense. He'd said he wanted to teach Danes a lesson. For what?
Danes waited for her to answer. He hadn't drawn his weapon yet but she knew he would if she didn't tell him more. She had to be careful. She couldn't re veal too much.
"They…" She tried to slow her respiration. The quick, shallow breaths would only make her hyper ventilate.
"They told me to wait for you. That you would be coming." She looked into those analyzing eyes and prayed he wouldn't see the lie in hers. "That's what I did. That's why I went out and bought a gun today." She relaxed a fraction when his expression didn't change. "I didn't know what would hap pen."
His stare…the silence…went on for so long that she felt a line of sweat bead on her forehead. Please, please, let him believe me. She knew it was wrong to pray for that kind of deception, but she was desperate. God knew just how desperate.
He drew slightly back, his gaze never leaving hers. "You're lying."
Her pulse jumped as his hold grew brutal once more. "No…No. I'm not lying." She shook her head adamantly. "All they want is you." Was that too much? She had to say something more. He'd seen through her deception. "You're all they want," she insisted. "If I stayed put and let you come after me they would release my aunt unharmed."
There was something about the way he looked at her then that sent a chill straight to the marrow of her bones.
"How valiant of you." The words were barely more than a whisper but even then she heard in his silky voice just how much he despised her.
She closed her eyes and fought back the humiliating tears. He was right to feel that way. All of this was because of her. Her child was living with strangers, her aunt being held hostage, this man's life on the line because of what she'd done.
Because of her mistake.
"I'm sorry." She moistened her lips and tried to take a breath but her chest felt too tight. "This isn't about you. This is my fault." She looked directly into those accusing eyes. "He told me my aunt would be safe if I did exactly as he said."
"The chances that your aunt is still alive are slim to none," he said bluntly. Her heart wrenched at the cold words. "If you're leaving anything out to protect her, don't waste my time. Think about your daughter, Miss Parker. These are not the kind of men who leave loose ends. Your aunt is likely already dead. They will kill you, that's a given. Then they'll kill your little girl just for the sport of it. It's what they do."
Despite her best efforts hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Then what am I supposed to do?" How could she trust this man? If she told him the rest…she couldn't do that.
"I'm the only chance you've got of surviving. You can either trust me or we'll both end up dead."
He backed off physically but that penetrating stare never deviated. "Get some sleep. Think about what I said. Let me know what you decide."
Sleep. She frowned.
Her gaze flew to the digital clock on the bedside table.
7:56 p.m.
Panic broadsided her. "But we don't have time."
He moved in close again, his size, his scent, the way he studied her, terrified her all over again. "What's the hurry, Miss Parker? We're safe for the moment."
"He said I had forty-eight hours," she confessed, defeated. She couldn't do this anymore. "Forty-eight hours or she would die."
"Forty-eight hours for what?"
Every debilitating emotion she'd felt…every horrible moment she'd lived through these past few days crowded in on her at once. Her mistakes. Those awful men taking her aunt away. The call. The waiting.
Cole Danes.
The sudden, foolish desire to trust him…to believe in anything even remotely right in this insane situation.
"To make sure you walked into their trap." There. She'd said it. "To teach you a lesson," she explained.
"They plan to play some sort of game with you first. Someone will contact me with the next step. That's all I know."
For the space of three excruciating heartbeats he didn't react…just kept up that relentless stare.
"Very good, Miss Parker." A grim smile lifted the corners of his hard mouth. "Now we're on the same side."
CHAPTER FIVE
9:15 p.m.
37 hours remaining…
"Why do they want you?"
Perched on the edge of the mattress, Angel Parker had considered him at length before asking her question. Cole felt reasonably certain that she'd spent that time working up the courage to do so.
He wondered if a woman so young, barely twenty-five, and inexperienced in the ways of his world could even begin to comprehend the actual answer to that question.
Cole dismissed the possibility without further deliberation. He'd achieved his goal, prodded her fear factor until she reached a vulnerable zone in order for him to obtain the required information. She knew nothing else of value at this time. Her continued participation in this matter was merely a technicality to ensure the link between him and his target.
"Do…" She dropped her gaze to her hands briefly before meeting his once more. "Do you know these men?"
"Do you?" He increased the intensity of his stare several degrees. She looked away again. Didn't like the way he analyzed her. Not a particularly burden some task from his vantage. Angel Parker was quite attractive. Slender, maybe too much so, medium height. Her white blond hair and clear blue eyes made him think of faraway places. But her lips were her most distracting asset by far. Overly full, incredibly lush. The kind of lips women with the means sought from skilled surgeons.
She licked those lush lips genetics had provided, the movement sparked by discomfort at his presence. Angel Parker was not an overtly sexual creature. Not that he doubted her ability to be infinitely sexual, she simply concealed her appeal. Or perhaps she was not aware of that power. No, he amended. That conclusion gave her more credit than he was prepared to give at this time. She was no innocent.
"I know Howard Stephens," she said in answer to his question. "But I don't know this new man…the one who gave me the instructions this time. I'd never met him before." She stared at her hands once more. "Mr. Stephens is the one who wanted to know your name. He took my aunt."
"Howard Stephens is dead."
Slowly, as if afraid of what she might see, she lifted her gaze to his. "Did you kill him? Is that why these men are after you now?"
He watched her eyes grow wider, saw the fear tighten its noose.
"In a manner of speaking," he allowed, uncertain why he bothered to tell her anything. He had set things in motion. His intricate planning had ensured the outcome.
"I don't understand." She sucked in an unsteady breath. "Why are they doing this to me? They got what they wanted from my aunt." She searched his face.
"Why don't they let her go? Why are they using us to get to you? My aunt had no part in any of this."
Cole leaned forward and braced his forearms on his widespread knees. "Because they can."
"So you do know who these men are?"
"Yes."
She dropped her hands to the mattress on either side of her. Her fingers curled in the covers as if she needed to hang on. "What do we do now? We can't just keep waiting. Time is running out." Her voice grew more frantic with each word. Pumping up her fear had been necessary, but he didn't need her hysterical.
"He'll call."
"How can you be sure?" She trembled but quickly stanched the telling reaction. "We've been sitting here for over an hour. They might not call. Maybe I did something wrong. Maybe they know you're on to their plan."
"He will call. I'm well aware of how these men operate. Waiting is our only option."
She lunged to her feet and started to pace the small room. He monitored her escalating apprehension but made no move to interfere. Let her walk off the adrenaline. Fatigue would do its work in time.
"I bought that weapon to protect myself." She whirled to face him, anger fueling, renewing her de termination.
"I convinced myself I could kill that man if I had to." A visible shudder went through her, testing her hold on composure. "Told myself I could kill you if that's what it took." She scrubbed at her forehead with a shaky hand. "But I couldn't. I couldn't do it." Her watery gaze found his once more. "And now my aunt is going to die because I'm too weak to help her."
She rushed to where he sat and dropped to her knees. "I have a three-year-old daughter. She needs me. Isn't there something you can do to help us? I have to get through this for my daughter," she urged, then her face fell. "But I don't think I'll be able to live with myself if my aunt dies because of my mistake."
She had no idea how dangerous this game really was. Not a clue. As guilty as she was for succumbing to Stephens's ploy in the first place, there was no denying the lack of malice and calculation in her personality, though he wanted to do just that. Her only crime, he realized, was a lack of intelligent reasoning and foresight triggered by extreme fear.
She lifted her gaze to his, only inches separating them. "Please help me. Don't you have any children of your own? A wife? Family somewhere? You must know how this feels. How it could end."
She was right about one thing, he already knew how this would likely end. "Don't waste your time attempting to play on my sympathies," he warned, purposely adding an air of danger to his tone. "I've never felt the need for a wife or children. And empathy is not one of my strong points."
She sat back on her heels and studied him, surprisingly not put off by his strategy. Her gaze moved over his every feature, his eyes, across his forehead, along the bridge of his nose, and the line of his jaw, then to his mouth. A frown disturbed her smooth forehead as she assessed his hard features. The sudden, almost irresistible urge to touch that troubled skin caught him off guard. He refrained from touching her but re fused to draw away, instead he remained perfectly still, allowed her to look at her leisure. She would only see what he wanted her to see. Nothing more.
"You think you don't need anyone, don't you?" Those translucent eyes met his with a kind of knowing that sent a chord of uneasiness through him. "You think you've got everything figured out and that you're above it all. You're wrong."
He seized her wrist and held her close when she would have moved away. "I'm never wrong, Miss Parker."
Any lingering fear had vanished from her eyes. There was only a certainty that infuriated him.
"This time you are."
Angel wasn't sure how she'd worked up the nerve to argue with him on that particular point but the realization that sh
e'd broken through some barrier was palpable. She'd gotten to him somehow. The burst of fury that darkened his eyes made her shiver. She should be afraid. Every instinct warned her that she should be seriously afraid and, yet, she wasn't. She felt calmer than she had in days.
He smiled then, widely, an intimate awareness in his eyes that stole her calm as abruptly as if he'd jerked a rug out from under her feet.
"Need is a very misunderstood element of the human psyche, Miss Parker." His voice was like silk, smooth, rich, but there was no mistaking an under lying lethal quality. "One either attends to it or denies it. When I experience a need, I satisfy it and walk away." His fingers tightened around her wrist. "What I need right now is for you to do exactly as I say and nothing more. Do you understand?"
She nodded, the movement uncoordinated.
"Get some rest." He released her. "There's nothing more we can do until he calls."
Angel pushed to her feet and backed away from him. She bumped into the mattress and let gravity drag her down to it. She closed her eyes to block him from her sight. There would be no reaching this man. She'd been stupid to try. He was as ruthless as the men holding her aunt hostage.
A medley of musical notes cracked the thick tension, yanking her from her disturbing thoughts. Her cell phone. She scrambled across the bed and grabbed her purse.
Danes manacled her wrist before she could de press the button to accept the call. "Be very careful what you say. Let him hear your fear. Show your eagerness to do whatever he asks."
His words elicited a powerful bolt of both emotions. "What if he asks about you?" What was she supposed to say then? The second cluster of notes pealed. Anticipation urged her to answer the call.
"Tell him the truth, that I'm holding you hostage."
She blinked. Was she a hostage? The idea startled her though it shouldn't have.
"Answer the call now."
Her pulse jumped at the savage sound of his voice. Wait. Hurry. We're on the same side now. All of it was too confusing.
Stay calm. Think rationally.
She depressed the necessary button and held her breath. "Hello." She refused to consider how fragile she sounded. Blocked out the image of Cole Danes towering over her.
