Evidently, they did have dine-in eating here. Though we wouldn’t be taking advantage of that.
“Wild,” Alice said from next to me. “These places never fail to get to me. Did they really do this in the fifties, do you think, or is that just something we’ve made up in the modern age?”
I glanced at her and took in the wide eyes and open mouth. She looked like we were actually on an adventure together, like this had all been planned and was perfectly okay, and that was when I started to get suspicious. Because I could buy her being excited about this place, but she was also the head of an internationally renowned tech company, and reportedly one of the brightest women on the West Coast.
She wasn’t the sort of woman to get all wide-eyed about a freaking schlocky fifties diner. At least, I didn’t think she was. And I couldn’t assume that she was.
So when I pulled up and parked next to one of those ordering booths, the first thing I did was grab the handcuffs from my pocket and slap them onto her wrist, and then onto the side of the chair she was sitting in.
She looked up at me, her face full of shock and betrayal, and I turned my eyes away, not wanting to see her looking at me like that.
“Nothing personal,” I said, making sure to keep my voice gruff the way I should have been doing this entire time. “It’s just that I can’t help but notice that we’re going to be sitting in a parking lot for a while, and you look a little bit too excited about it. I can’t take the chance of you deciding to make a run for it.”
Chapter 12
Alice
I jerked at the handcuffs once, furious, but I already knew it was mostly futile. I had also figured out by this time that I could only afford so much rebellion.
As much as I wanted to shout and scream from the rooftops about what was going on, as much as I wanted to find the bastards who were bankrolling the thing and absolutely tear their eyes out of their head—preferably while they were awake—I’d also figured out that if they knew me and who I was, and they’d done their research enough to know that my company could actually afford the twenty million they were going to ask for—something Jack had let slip earlier—then they’d probably also done research on my personal life.
Which meant they knew about Rhea. Which meant that I wasn’t the only one in danger right now. And no matter how badly I wanted to get away, that kept me quiet. The idea that my little girl might be in danger based on my behavior kept me pliant.
For now. It wasn’t going to last. But for now, it was what I had to do.
I hadn’t missed the fact that I wasn’t furious at Jack. I mean yeah, I was really, really angry at him, for a number of reasons. Picking me up in the rose garden, pretending to be interested in me, and then flat-out carrying me down the stairs outside his apartment and shoving me into a grungy van were all very high on that list. And I wasn’t stupid enough to think that he was totally innocent in all of this.
I did, however, realize that it would have happened one way or another, regardless. If the syndicate that had marked me had wanted me kidnapped, they were going to hire someone to get it done. Jack had been the man, this time. If he hadn’t been available, it would have been someone else.
And that was the only reason I wasn’t furious with him, too. I’m serious. It had absolutely nothing to do with his steel-cutting jaw or that sexy stubble or the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed. It also had nothing to do with him having bought me road trip clothes when he obviously wasn’t supposed to.
And it definitely had nothing to do with the way my skin was still buzzing with the memory of his touch.
It was because he was just the delivery guy, and if it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else. That was all.
“So what, you’re just going to order for me and feed me?” I snapped, forcing my angry gaze up to his face. Because I might not have been furious with him, but that didn’t mean I was going to let him get away with handcuffing me for no good reason.
He shrugged, and I caught that apologetic look again. “Alice, be reasonable. I can’t take the chance of you getting out and telling someone what’s going on. I mean, I could. But it would mean my job. And probably my life.”
“Be reasonable?” I gasped, almost laughing at how stupid that sounded. “You picked me up, got me drunk, and then kidnapped me and are driving me out into the desert, handcuffing me and then claiming that I’ll be safe, and you want me to be reasonable? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Still. It hadn’t escaped my attention that he’d said it could mean his life if I got out and did something stupid. Terrific. More pressure. That was exactly what I needed. Because when you’ve been kidnapped, the first thing on your list should always be worrying about whether the man who kidnapped you is in danger, too.
But I was self-aware enough to realize that it had caught my attention when he said that. And that I was concerned about whether his life was on the line. I mean, I was definitely more concerned about my life—and Rhea’s—than his. But something… something had happened between San Jose and this little roadside restaurant. Something that had made me start to differentiate between him and his clients.
Something that made me feel like he might not be the enemy he was supposed to be.
That’s just Stockholm syndrome, my brain immediately told me, sounding out a danger alarm. DANGER, DANGER, SHUT IT DOWN!
I narrowed my eyes, wondering. Was it just Stockholm syndrome? It was a possibility, I guessed. I was certainly in the right sort of situation for it to hit. But would it hit so soon? I’d always thought it would take longer. And how exactly did you know if you had it? One of those quizzes in the backs of magazines for teenage girls? A list of symptoms you found on the internet?
Not that I had my phone for searching. It had been in the purse that Jack had confiscated.
Jack, my kidnapper. The man I should hate. The man I actually still kind of liked. And that was going to become a very, very big complication.
Either that, or it was going to become something I could use.
“Double cheeseburger, extra ketchup, no onions,” I reeled off. “Bacon if they have it. French fries. Even better if they have onion rings. And a vanilla malt. I’m assuming a place like this will have those featured front and center on their menu.”
He looked at me for a moment, his mouth twitching with laughter at the order, but then evidently decided that it wasn’t worth addressing. Instead, he turned back to his side of the window, leaned out toward the booth, and started ordering.
By the time the waitress skated up with our food, I was starving.
“God, I knew I was hungry, but I didn’t realize how bad it was until we actually got to where food was available,” I said, watching her push the trays of food through the window.
Then, when Jack was turning around, his hands full of those trays and nowhere to set them down, I realized how much he’d actually shot himself in the foot. And I started laughing. Like, giggling uncontrollably. I couldn’t help it. It was all just so stupid.
“So I would help, you know, but I’m sort of handcuffed to my seat right now,” I said, pretending to be apologetic—while openly laughing at his situation.