by CJ Daly
a fistful of gravel ready to fling it in his face the moment he touched me.
Didn’t have to wait long, because he immediately reached over—with less
care than a cowboy does a steer he’s roped and tethered—and grabbed me.
“You’re going to regret that, young—”
I hurled the gravel in his face.
“Mother— fffoot! ” He furiously spat on the ground.
I didn’t hesitate. I ran for it again—four fast steps—into another set of
arms. Then started screaming my head off and was instantly rewarded by
a couple of lights blinking on. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? A large muzzle clamped over my mouth. I strained and squirmed and screamed while
muscled bands enfolded me tightly.
A low, soothing voice said, “It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”
Sure . . . that’s what they all say.
“Speak for yourself,” Ranger spat out along with some gritty dirt. “You
got her?” He began furiously rubbing at his eyes.
I tried screaming again, but it was hopelessly muffled by the hand sealing
my lips shut.
“I got her,” he confirmed. “You drive. We’d better get outta here before
someone calls the cops.”
I redoubled my efforts to get free again. Mama told me to never ever let
someone take you off in their car. To fight to the death if you had to, because
once they took you away to a secondary location, it was all over for you. The
second attacker yelped as the back of my head made contact with his face.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” He loosened his grip enough for me to bite down on his
hand. “Ow! Stop biting me!” His curses assaulted my ears while his fingers
resealed my lips.
A barking cackle erupted from Ranger, who was sitting back watching the
struggle with cold amusement. “I told you she was a hell-cat.”
“Yeah, well . . . you didn’t have to hit her.”
“She’s lucky that’s all I did—she kicked the bejeezus out of me with her
friggin’ cowboy boot!” Ranger whined, rubbing at his shin.
“No wonder she’s spooked out of her mind . . . the way you went after
her. There’s no calming her down now.” With that said, my captor used the
full force of his strength to carry me, kicking and screaming, into the truck.
To my utter bewilderment, he didn’t bind and gag me and throw me in
• 76 •
the back. Instead, he somehow managed to hoist us both into the passenger seat, with me fighting him tooth and nail. But since he only had my arms
pinned, my legs were still thrashing about like a lobster fighting the pot.
I planted my boots on the doorframe, keeping my legs ramrod straight to
prevent him from shutting the door.
My captor huffed out a chuckle. “A little help, please.”
Ranger barked out another exasperated laugh before removing my boots
from the door and shoving them inside. I tried to kick him in the head, but
he ducked.
“Unbelievable. We should’ve left her in the alley for the dogs—that poor
bastard never had a chance anyway.” Ranger slammed the door and stalked
around to the driver’s side, shaking his head and cursing. The headlights
glinted off his glossy black head, spotlighting the blood on his mouth.
Unnaturally blue eyes glared at me through the windshield.
My heart seized in my chest. I’d swear I’d seen those eyes before— before
the diner.
And then another door closed, shutting off the memory flash. It seemed
especially ominous to me under the circumstances—a final nail in my coffin.
A sob tore from my throat. The fight was over. They’d won. I’d lost. Again.
The Hummer gunned down the street, tires squealing in protest, the driver
obviously taking his frustrations out on the road. Where are they taking me?
Once we got there they could do with me as they pleased, as thy surely would.
These were two guys who clearly always got what they wanted.
And for some inexplicable reason they wanted me.
And then I started crying, inconsolably, washing my abductor’s hand in
tarry tears as he held me to him. All I could hear for a long while were the
sniffling sobs leaving my body and the roaring engine driving us down dark,
empty streets of the deserted town. My thoughts flew wildly around in my
head: What do they want with me? What are they doing here? How did they know how to find me? My heart palpitated in rhythm to the questions. We went a
few more empty miles in silence, each of us absorbed in our thoughts.
Suddenly, all the fight drained out of me like milk from an over-turned
bucket. I quit struggling and slumped over. My aching muscles relaxed. In
turn, his hand relaxed enough to allow a long, shuttering sigh to leak out.
Closing my eyes, I leaned into him for support instead of fighting him.
The one holding me captive immediately responded again by readjusting
me so that I was tucked up securely under his chin, my head now resting against
his chest. I could hear the pounding of his heart and feel his slow, sure breath
caress my face. It was calming—too calming. I felt an unexpected shift in my
• 77 •
body’s responses. Breathing in deeply, I inhaled the masculine scent wafting from his neck. He smelled like . . . heaven. Some kind of intoxicating mix of expensive aftershave, healthy sweat, and good old-fashioned pheromones. At
this point, I wasn’t sure I wanted to get away. Strangely, I felt protected by his solid frame, almost as if my nightmare had finally come to an end.
My God! Am I losing my marbles? Already suffering from Stockholm syndrome?
A flare of defiance bloomed in my chest—I refused to be such an easy
mark for these two egomaniacs! I stiffened my resolve, and my muscles again,
planting my boots against the dashboard to press back hard and crack his face
with the back of my head.
“Oh no you don’t!” He anticipated my move as soon as I stiffened back
up, quickly wrapping his leg around my shins so that my feet dropped back
to the floor. “I thought all the fight finally left you,” he said, sounding more
amused than angry.
Ranger snorted. “Don’t let her loose for one second, Pete. I would say
she’s completely outmatched here, but I don’t believe even Tyson could take
her down tonight.”
I dared a peek and noticed, with grim satisfaction, that both abductors
appeared a little worse for the wear. I wasn’t the only one battered and bruised
by our encounter—at least I had that. Ranger was busy blotting his lip with a
paper napkin, and the one named Pete was bleeding all over my new shirt. I
must have busted his nose when I head-butted him. A quake of fear at all the
awful things they could do to me in retaliation overcame me.
“She’s shaking like a leaf,” Pete said, sounding concerned now. He folded
me into him and began murmuring in my ear.
The first stirrings of hope began to rise in my chest. Could they not be
meaning to do me harm? I wasn’t sure of anything yet, but my intuition was telling me that the one holding me captive in his arms wasn’t going to hurt
me . . . Besides, Pete didn’t sound like much of a serial-killer name. I snorted
at that thought, on the edge of hysteria again.
“What are you doing over there? Choking her?” Am
usement from Ranger.
“I’m going to let her go, so she can breathe better,” warned Pete.
“The hell you are! . . . She’s like a goddamned wolverine!”
A low chuckle vibrated Pete’s chest. “Nah . . . more like a frightened filly,
‘sall.” That said, he actually unpinned my arms for one second to stroke a
hand over my mane. Meanwhile, my mouth continued to be muzzled by his
other hand like I was gonna gnaw off his arm or something.
“Don’t let her go!” Ranger ordered. “I don’t want to end up road kill for
these yahoos to scrape off the highway.” After a few more minutes of what
• 78 •
appeared to be random driving, he pulled off the black asphalt and onto one of the dirt roads arming off the long stretch of interstate.
As we hurtled along, I noted that I liked Pete a heck of a lot better than
Ranger, despite the fact that he still held me bound-and-gagged. For one
thing, Ranger kept using the Lord’s Name in vain, a habit that I personally
detested. Secondly, he just compared me to a wolverine, and my feminine ire
was curiously aroused by this. But most importantly, I had the distinct feeling
that Ranger detested me, despite the fact that he didn’t know me from Eve.
Unless he did.
We continued to drive into the country abyss, and I continued to wonder
where they were taking me. I needed some answers. If they were going to drive
me out into the middle of nowhere to hack me into pieces, then apparently, I
at least wanted the common courtesy of knowing about it in advance.
Ready to talk, I mumbled into Pete’s palm, but he was too busy debating
about our whereabouts with Ranger to answer. I gathered they were a bit lost
on the unmarked country roads.
“Don’t blame me if you missed the turnoff—I’m trying to quell a nosebleed
over here,” Pete said, tossing his head back.
Another spasm of remorse shook me (which was very disconcerting
considering the fact that he had virtually kidnapped me against my will). I
redoubled my efforts to harden my heart against him. Trouble was I’d just
breathed in another lungful of his exposed throat, and it had me feeling more
like snuggling in than escaping out.
“Damned backassward roads!” Ranger stomped on the brakes, and we all
lurched forward before coming to a halt. Dust flew up around us in clouds
of wispy smoke. He leaned over to fiddle with the GPS system, appearing to
get more irate by the second.
This made me feel a smidge better due to the simple fact that I knew
where we were and they didn’t. Inexplicably, we were just a few miles down the
road from my house, where that prairie fire had burned down an abandoned
farmhouse a few years ago. I wasn’t exactly sure how this knowledge helped
me, but it kind of made me feel like I had some small weapon in my arsenal
of survival.
And then the neon dashboard flashed the time at me: 12:07. Crap! It
felt like a small cannonball just made contact with my stomach. My curfew
was 11:00, and that was after much wheedling and begging. If I didn’t walk
through my front door pronto, then I would be better off in the hands of
my abductors! I must not have been in my right mind, because not making
• 79 •
curfew should’ve been the least of my worries at the moment. But there it was niggling at my brain like a worm.
“Mmmmmm.” I began squirming now, more insistent. “Mmmm-mm-
mmmm!”
Ranger shot me a dirty look before setting right back to work with his
keypad. Pete simply readjusted me in his arms as if I were merely trying to
convey my discomfort. I huffed out a huge, aggravated sigh. If they were not
going to kill me, then my father surely would.
“Maybe we should throw a blanket over her,” Ranger suggested, glancing
up from his task. I glared at him.
“I think it’s time to cut her loose,” Pete said.
“If she kicks the GPS system out of order, you’re walking home.” The
statement was said with levity. However, I had the distinct impression that
Ranger would actually follow through with his threat.
A sigh escaped Pete, the puffed out sweet air stirring my hair. “Duly
noted.” His voice sounded abnormally nasally now. “Hand me a napkin, will
you? My nose is still bleeding.”
Another pang shot through me. I wondered if it was because I felt bad
for inflicting the injury, or because I had inflicted it on the wrong abductor.
The abductor, still holding my mouth hostage, removed his hand as warily
as if I were a bomb he was detonating. The sudden release of pressure shocked
me into silence. I’d already realized, of course, who it was: it was Baseball
Cap from the restaurant, and I now knew his name was Pete. He looked at
me for what felt like the first time tonight. A slow burn started that was part
guilt for mangling his face and part embarrassment from being so exposed—I
just realized I’d been draped across his lap half naked. Blood rushed to the
surface of my skin. My eyes retreated shyly to my lap; I was suddenly glad for
the sheltering darkness.
Ranger handed over a napkin and snapped on the interior light to inspect
the damage. A low whistle discharged from his lips. “Damn, man! No doubt
about it . . . that eye’s gonna be one black beauty.” He sounded cheered by
this idea.
Gah! I’d done more damage than I thought. I felt kinda queasy that I’d
spoiled the most spectacular face I’d ever seen. It was a travesty to destroy
such beauty—like taking a knife to a Michelangelo painting. My actions were
perhaps a bit hasty, because I wasn’t even sure if he was friend or foe.
Pete snorted then winced. “You’re one to talk. You look like you’ve been
in a street fight with a herd of angry cats.”
I felt the weight of both their eyes on me, searching for answers. I peeked
• 80 •
up from beneath my wet lashes at Pete. But to my dismay, his soft brown eyes were staring down at me with a hard expression. Well, one soft brown eye,
because the other was currently swelling shut. I also noticed, with another
twinge of remorse, that his patrician nose was still oozing red. Did I real y
do all that? Frightened from the combined heat of their displeasure, I sniffed again as more tears threatened.
Ranger rolled his eyes. “Crying’s not going to get you out of this one,
little lady.”
I shouldn’t be the one on the defensive here. Is it my fault a big brute chased me down a dark al ey? I didn’t ask for them to appear out of thin air. (Although a small voice inside was finally allowing that I might be lucky that they did.)
And that I’d landed in Pete’s lap. I realized just how gentle he’d actually
been with me under the circumstances . . . unlike others. I dared another
glare at Ranger before returning my eyes to Pete. We stared intently at each
other for a lost moment, and a mad impulse to brush back his golden hair
and tenderly tend his bruised and broken skin overtook me. So I guess it was
a good thing he still held me bound.
Pete’s expression softened. Something flickered in his eyes that prompted
him to finally remove the arm-shackle binding me to his chest to snap off the
light. “The light’s bothering my eye,” he stated in way of explanation.
But I knew that was a lie—something about me had bothered him.
My hands used their newfound freedom to hastily swipe at mascara
smears. Pete swiped at his nose with the napkin Ranger handed him.
“Maybe you could borrow one of her tampons to plug it?” Ranger
suggested while I conveyed to him the depth of my loathing through my eyes.
“Uh-oh, I think she’s plotting my death again,” he said to Pete. Then after
a beat: “So let’s have it, Glasses—why were you running from us tonight?”
“Why were you chasin’ me?” I croaked out, my throat dry as a bone.
“Because you ran.” Ranger’s gaze roved from my face to my breasts, newly
exposed from the removal of Pete’s arm. He focused on my mother’s cross,
and something weird flashed behind his eyes.
I squirmed under his frank scrutiny, feeling even more naked than I was.
I became acutely aware that I was alone, out in the country, with two very
athletic, angry males, who may or may not want to hurt me.
“I have to get home,” I said.
Ranger ignored me, continuing to give me the once over until he zeroed
in on the gash in my knee. He retrieved another napkin and began dabbing
at it. “I gotta say , Glasses—you’re a mess again,” he sneered, pressing into
• 81 •
my bleeding cut with unnecessary force. “However, this outfit is a vast improvement over the previous one.”
I winced but ignored him.
“. . . Glad to see you took my little talk to heart.” A wicked grin flashed
dimples at me, and a surge of white-hot rage flew my hand to Ranger’s
face. But it was caught by his quicker hand. “Uh-uh-uh-uh,” he tssked,
“temper-temper.”
To my utter horror, the silky tie at the bottom of my shirt just came
undone . . . and the one around my neck was precariously close to slipping
off. Do not need a nip-slip right now! I tried snatching my hand back to retie it, but Ranger wouldn’t release me. His eyes snaked to my slippery shirt.
“That temper’s going to get you into a lot of trouble, young lady,” he
cautioned, a smirk curling his lips.
“Easy,” Pete intervened, shifting me back farther into his lap. “She’s had
a hard night.”
My thoughts flew back to when Ron Tillman had done the same thing
