In Bed with Boone
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The woman’s lips trembled, and she lowered her eyes. Maybe she didn’t want him to see the fear that had to be there. Oh, God, he hoped she didn’t start to cry. He had no patience with weepy women.
“I’m taking her with me.” With that, he turned and headed back toward the car.
Darryl didn’t like the idea of taking the woman along, but he simply grumbled a curse and stuck his pistol into his waistband.
The buyers were long gone, having collected their purchase and taken off as Boone and the others chased the witness. They’d wisely left the money, neatly bound and stacked in a small suitcase, sitting in the trunk of Darryl’s car.
Boone sped up and headed toward the man on the ground. He moved so fast the woman he dragged behind him had to run to keep up. Every foul word he’d ever used came to mind. He muttered them all.
“You have a vulgar mouth,” the woman said primly, keeping her voice low.
“Yep.”
“A gentleman would never use such language in front of a lady.”
Boone stopped and stared down at the man who was sprawled on the ground by the Mercedes, taking everything in quickly. High-priced suit, gold watch, salon haircut. A perfect match for the woman at his side. He hated people like these. Holier than thou, too rich for their own good, always looking down their noses at the rest of the world. They didn’t deserve to get shot for it, though.
He didn’t have much time. Keeping a firm grip on the woman’s wrist, he dropped to his haunches and quickly rifled through the man’s pockets.
“What are you doin’?” Marty called.
Boone glanced over his shoulder. The kid who combed his hair with a razor was heading right for him.
“Checking the man’s pockets. He looks like he has money, doesn’t he?” With that Boone ripped off the watch and stuck it in his pocket.
The woman made a sound that was a tsk and a sigh and a grunt rolled into one feminine utterance, revealing her utter disgust with him.
Marty grinned. “Can I have the car?”
“No,” Boone said tersely. “It’ll lead the cops right to us.”
Doug came up behind his buddy. As the woman’s frightened eyes landed on him, Doug flipped his long hair like a vain woman trolling in a bar. “And she won’t?” he asked bitterly.
“I’ll take care of her,” Boone promised darkly.
Doug and Marty were not much older than twenty, neither was too bright, and they scared easily. All those facts had made Boone’s time here much easier than it might have been.
Still, no matter how dumb they were, he couldn’t finish what he had to do with them looking on. “Put the girl in Darryl’s car,” he said, offering her imprisoned arm to Marty. Just before Marty grabbed the woman’s wrist, he felt a deep tremble pass through her body. Sorry, sugar, he thought silently. I have no choice. “Touch her anywhere else,” he added darkly, “and I’ll kill you. She’s mine.” Marty’s grin faded rapidly, and Boone said, “I’ll be right there.”
Doug and Marty moved away, Marty with his hand gripping the woman’s arm, Doug quickly checking the front seat of the Mercedes. Darryl was occupied getting his money situated, which gave Boone the opportunity to place his fingers against the neck of the man on the ground.
He closed his eyes in relief. The man wasn’t dead. His heartbeat was strong and steady. What happened next was necessarily fast. Boone found the wound on the man’s side. It was nasty, but not fatal. He prayed the guy didn’t come to and start making noise. Darryl would finish the job if that happened.
Moving quickly, Boone removed the man’s jacket. In the process, he snagged the wallet—in case anyone was watching. The cell phone in the inside pocket dropped into his hand.
The jacket made an easy, quick, inadequate bandage. But it was better than nothing. Keeping his hands out of sight, Boone switched on the cell phone and dialed 911. He positioned the phone on the man’s chest, then concealed the phone with a flapping portion of the fancy jacket that he had fashioned into a bandage.
“Come on!” Darryl shouted, slamming the trunk of his car closed and heading for the driver’s-side door. Marty and Doug were already sitting in the back seat, the terrified hostage pinned between them.
There was no more time. If Darryl decided to come over and see what he was doing, the operation was finished. Done. Three months’ work wasted and someone dead. Either Darryl, or Boone himself and the woman.
Boone leaned forward and whispered, giving the 911 operator who had answered the emergency call the name of the road they were on. Nothing more. It would take them a while to find the exact location, but the delay couldn’t be helped. At least the man on the ground had a strong pulse and wasn’t bleeding too seriously.
“Hang in there, buddy,” he whispered.
He couldn’t afford to be caught. Not tonight. He hadn’t yet found the child the drug dealer Gurza had kidnapped, and until he did, nothing else mattered. Not this man and not the woman.
He shook his head as he strode away from the Mercedes and the man on the ground. Very faintly, he heard the tinny sound of the operator’s voice from the cell phone asking for more information.
What a night. A man shot, a hostage he was now responsible for…he was in too deep. Things were going very wrong, and once things started going wrong, they usually didn’t stop. They just got worse.
There was going to be hell to pay, but not until he found that kid and delivered him home.
Chapter 2
Jayne shook. She didn’t want the murdering kidnappers to know how scared she was, but no matter how she tried to stop the all-over shaking, it continued.
The two men who bracketed her stared straight ahead and didn’t acknowledge her presence at all, even though the three of them sat thigh to thigh in the rear seat of the dark sedan. They were obviously afraid of the one they called Becker, who kept casting dark warning glances into the back seat.
She might have been protected from the seedier side of life since birth and she was definitely frightened now, but Jayne had enough wits about her to be very well aware of what had happened. She and Jim had happened upon a drug deal. Just their luck. Of all the roads to get lost on, Jim had chosen that one. She sniffled, just a little, and fingered her pearls. Jim was dead, and she soon would be. Unless she found a way to escape.
Becker glanced into the back seat again, his eyes landing on hers briefly as they passed under a street lamp. Her mouth went dry. Her heart thundered. It took no imagination at all to realize what he wanted from her. He’d told his friends plainly enough. Her shaking got worse.