And no matter how much I did or didn’t know, I would have been lying if I didn’t admit that this woman had touched me in a way none of the others had.
Maybe it was because she’d looked at me, rather than through me, like most women of her status did. Maybe it was because she’d actually listened—and laughed—when I spoke. Maybe it was because for the first time during any of these jobs, I’d actually allowed myself to kiss her for real, rather than restricting myself to flirting only.
Whatever it was, I was starting to feel a personal obligation toward her. And that was a problem. Because at the end of the day—well, at the end of this drive—I was going to be turning her over to people that weren’t necessarily the most trustworthy of characters. Yes, they’d always carried through with their promise to return the target in the past, as long as the ransom was paid.
But this was still a kidnapping. It still meant one person being yanked right out of their world without warning, and by complete strangers who didn’t necessarily mean to be careful with said person’s body. It still meant handcuffs and guns and an inevitably long drive and people who broke the law for a living.
So yeah, there were quite a few ways that everything could go very, very wrong.
To keep from thinking about that, I decided that we should talk. Because of course you talk to the woman you’re in the midst of kidnapping. Of course you ask her about herself and try to get to know her better, like this is just some chick you picked up in a bar.
I mean it’s only rational, right?
“I brought you some different clothes, by the way,” I said, hoping that if I gave her a peace offering it would actually get her talking.
She was silent for a long moment, while I kept my eyes on the road in front of us, watching out for the onramp to the highway. Then I finally heard a slow exhalation of air.
“Clothes?” she asked, as if it was the most outlandish thing she’d ever heard of. “What’d you do, break into my house and go through my closet? Take anything else while you were there? Family photos? My used panties? Not that I’d be surprised.”
She added that last sentence under her breath, and I let it hang in the air for a second before I answered her.
“I haven’t been anywhere near your house. The clothes are mine, actually. Or rather… well, they’re clothes I bought earlier today. I figured you’d be in business wear, and that you’d want something more comfortable for the road.”
“How very thoughtful of you,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Such a generous kidnapper.”
I let that one pass, too. I would have reacted the same way if I was in her position. Probably a whole lot worse, honestly. I doubted I’d be sitting there so peacefully right now—though I was well aware that her brain was probably working overtime on how she was going to kill me. And probably how she was going to torture me before she got to that point.
I knew that because it was what I would have been doing. And I definitely didn’t think she was a woman who meant to go quietly into the night. Hell, I wouldn’t even blame her for doing it. I mean, I doubted I’d like it very much. After all, torture. But I wouldn’t blame her.
Because this was a rotten business. And I’d never lied to myself about that.
So instead of having to start, I went back to the one piece of good I could do right now, nodding back toward the bag on the floor.
“They’re in the bag. Nothing fancy. Just sweats and a sweatshirt, plus some flip-flops. Good driving clothes. No idea if they’ll fit or not.”
Because I’d seen her picture. I hadn’t seen her in person. So I hadn’t known how tiny she actually was. Not until I’d been surprised to see her leaving her office building several hours earlier than expected, from my parking spot across the street. Not until I’d tailed her to the Heritage Rose Gardens, ready to engineer our fateful meeting.
I could feel her staring at me, but refused to look at her—partially because I knew it would drive her crazy.
And it worked. After several long minutes of just staring at me, Alice jerked herself out of her seat and headed into the back of the van. I heard the zipper on the bag and then a breath of laughter.
“Mediums?” she said. “I’m going to be swimming in these. I hope you brought a belt. Or suspenders.”
“No one told me what size you wore!” I protested. “I figured I’d go with the most middle choice, just to be safe.”
There was another long pause, and then she asked, “Do you buy traveling clothes for everyone you kidnap?”
“What makes you think I do this often?” I asked, instead of answering her question—because the answer was no. I still didn’t know why I’d broken my own rules for this one. Before I’d even met her.
I did know, though, that I should stop doing it. Because it was going to get me in trouble.
“The fact that you said you’ve done it before, mainly,” she shot back.
Oh. Right.
“Do they fit?” I asked, still avoiding her initial question.
I finally saw the onramp for the freeway and turned onto it, my gaze flitting to the signs ahead of me, my fingers busy with my phone and the GPS program that would get us through the drive and to the meeting spot.
“I don’t have them on yet, believe it or not,” she replied.
I heard the sound of a struggle behind me, and suddenly tensed. What was she doing back there? Was she trying to escape? Figuring out how to strangle me with her pantyhose?
“What are you doing?” I asked, starting to turn around—despite the fact that I was still driving. “What’s all that scuffling?”
A hand shot out and shoved my face back toward the road.
“Don’t look!” she shouted. “God! You’d think you didn’t know you had a woman trying to change clothes back here.” Another sound of scuffling, and some heavy breathing. “A man could never understand how hard it is to get out of one of these freaking skirts. I can’t even get the damn thing unzipped.”
I stifled a smile at that—and then stifled the image that accompanied what she’d said, because we might have spent at least half an hour making out like high-schoolers in my apartment, but that didn’t mean I needed to think about what it would be like to undress her.
I mean, not anymore. I’d been thinking about that nonstop when she’d had her hands all over me. But that part of the night was over. And I needed to remember that.
Or I was going to find myself in big trouble. This woman was only mine for the next four hours or so. After that, I’d be turning her over—and her fate would officially no longer be in my hands. Which meant that at that point, I had to forget her entirely. Forget she existed, forget that she might be in danger.
Getting too attached, or letting myself even think about being attracted to her, would just make it that much more difficult.
Chapter 10
Alice
By the time I’d finally managed to get out of that damn skirt and into the sweats Jack had bought—too big, as I’d suspected, but also better than being in that skirt—I was sweating and incredibly frustrated.
I was also starting to consider a full-on campaign against any woman wearing pencil skirts again. The things were menaces. Not only were they uncomfortable to sit in and restrictive when it came to trying to kick any attacker, they also tended to have zippers that stuck—something that I had dealt with in the past—which could make taking them off by yourself a real pain in the ass.