“Okay, so do you want me to give you a gold star?” said Rollie, clearly annoyed.
“Ever been told you’re a pain in the ass?” he growled back, hiding the smile that kept trying to curve his lips. He shouldn’t be doing this. She was scared and his prisoner, but it felt good to bandy words with her.
“A few times, as a matter of fact. Both times by George Blackwell himself. I guess I have that effect on jackasses,” she referred to the insincere and predatory CEO of her fiercest competition. The rivalry between both companies was well known. The difference was, Rollie didn’t resort to unethical means to get ahead.
“Jackass, eh? You sure like pushing the envelope, don’t you?” He snorted, spotting a rest stop ahead and starting to slow the truck. It was deserted with a large parking lot, which suited his purposes. He could pull to the back and let her out for a moment, let her stretch her legs. It wasn’t for her benefit though. He was going numb from sitting in one position so long. He needed the break, too.
“Thank God,” she said as she saw the rest stop coming up, grateful at least she’d have a chance to stretch her legs. She also hoped she might get the chance to get away from him. If her kidnapper would even allow her out. Not a problem though. If he didn’t, she’d scream bloody murder and annoy him until he did. Or until he gagged her. “My ass is getting numb, and I can’t feel my legs anymore.”
There were two things at the top of her list. First was that she actually needed to pee, and she hoped there was a ladies room nearby. The second concern was to survey the place and see if she could escape from him. She had gone with a minimum of fight to avoid getting hurt but now, only an idiot would pass up a chance to secure her own release
She was gifted with photographic memory, and she took in as much of the landscape as she could to memorize the route they took. She had paid close attention to the personal security seminars that she had contracted for her employees earlier this year.
He didn’t say anything as the truck pulled off the highway, crunching across the gravel of the parking lot in a wide arc. He pulled the vehicle to a stop right at the back, half concealed behind the rest stop buildings, and turned to her.
“Right. This is how we’re going to do this, sweetheart.” His hazel eyes were level, dangerously level, as he looked at her. Out of nowhere, a switchblade appeared in his hand.
For a moment, her heart stopped. This wasn’t really a break but rather where he was going to kill her. He was going to kill her right here and bury her corpse in a shallow grave. The arguments really didn’t make sense with the bigger picture that she was trying to put together earlier as fear overrode her logic.
“I’m going to cut these ties and let you out for a quick walk. You just remember that you might get a head start, but no one outruns a bullet. Comprendé?”
Relief rushed through her, and she suppressed a shudder, but it didn’t last for long, as she got angry again with herself. Trying to compensate for her rattled state of mind, she reverted to defense mechanisms and gave him a pitying look.
“Wow, that line’s so lame it’s beyond cliché,” she drawled as she held out her bound wrists. “Which B-rate movie did you get it from?”
The blade flashed out and in one swift movement sliced the plastic that held her wrists. He shrugged as he folded it and slipped it back in his pocket. Rollie didn’t make the mistake of following it with her gaze. He had two weapons on him that she knew of. She would bet he carried more.
“Smart ass,” he muttered as he shot her a look. “Just get out and walk.”
Rollie rubbed her wrists and got out of the truck. It was still dark, but based on approximation since they left the lab, it was now nearing dawn. The thin lab coat over the strappy top, jeans, and Cracle Roxi Prada boots she wore was no match for the chill of the damp, September morning. She hugged herself to try and ward off the cold as she walked around, trying to get her blood running and bring the life back to her limbs. At the same time, she tried to survey the place for possible escape routes.
All the while, though, her bladder screamed at her to head to the restroom. She ignored it. She needed to get her plan set before she headed for the restroom because, once she got there, she needed to be ready to carry it out. It wasn’t exactly lab tested, and she didn’t like doing anything half-assed, but it was the best plan she could come up with at moment’s notice.
“Hey! Are you keeping an imaginary leash on me, or can I take a bathroom break?”
He was leaning back on the hood of his truck, but his eyes hadn’t left her for a second as she walked. Although the pistol she’d seen earlier was nowhere in sight, everything about him screamed awareness. She had no doubt he could have it in his hand and be pulling the trigger within the blink of an eye.
He shrugged and pushed off the truck. “Come on, then.”
She headed for the public restroom, a good distance away from the truck, with him following close behind. She was well aware of every measured step he took and knew he was ready in case she bolted. He had the advantage of longer legs, and she suspected that he was in better physical shape than she was. But even so, the fact remained that she wasn’t going to be running off with a full bladder. First things first.
He followed her into the restroom, checking out the stalls before he let her into one. “Be quick.” He stood back and motioned her toward the nearest one. It was the only one without a window, not that the window would have done her any good. Tiny, with steel-laced security glass, they looked very much as if they’d been painted into position years ago. “Don’t lock the door,” he added, turning away.
Damn it. He was thorough and cautious; she had to give him that. She had prayed there was a window, but not to worry, she had another plan. She just hoped he wouldn’t catch on to it before she could complete it. “You’re going to stand right there while I do my thing?” she asked, outraged. “What about a little privacy?”
“I’m a big boy. You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen countless times before,” he said in a bored tone, leaning against the opposite wall just out of her line of sight.
“Well, you’re not seeing mine. Not if I’ve got something to say about it,” she muttered as she got into the stall and slammed the door behind her. As she went about her business, she brought the scenario in her head into play.
The restroom was small, and he stood right outside the cubicle. Luckily for her, though, there was no way he could see her feet under the door, which was critical if she was going to pull this off. Quickly and quietly concluding her business, she took off her coat, careful that she didn’t rustle the fabric too much, and removed her ID. The badge went behind the bowl and under the tank where it was sure to be found by a janitor. At the least, it would help the cops know that she’d been here.
Next, she removed the tank cover, biting her lip as the lid scraped against the tank, and fiddled with the floater and flush cap. A few mechanical adjustments and she slid the cover back into place. Then she was ready. Flexing her fingers and stretching her arms, she hoped to God that, with what she was about to do, those ballet lessons would pay off.
Bloody hell, what sort of bladder capacity did this woman have? Day leaned against the wall, thumbs looped loosely in his jeans pockets, and waited for her to finish. The flush of the toilet went on and on, a steady stream instead of an actual flush. What was she doing? Holding the handle down to cover the sound of her actually pissing or something?
He shook his head, surprised at her being shy over something like that when she’d been so ballsy about everything else. Women. He’d never understand them. He waited another minute, just to be on the safe side, and then cleared his throat. “You done in there?”
There was silence. Apart from the flushing, of course.
“Gavilan? Don’t tell me you’re asleep on there,” he warned, making sure his boots made a noise against the tiles to warn her he was near the door. He pushed it open to reveal…nothing. The cubicle was empty.
“Fucking hell!” He slammed his hand against the door. She must have done something to the toilet to cover her escape. “I’m gonna throttle that woman.” He heard her as she made it through the door. Turning on his heel, he headed after her with a bellow of fury. Despite his earlier threats, he didn’t go for his gun as he rounded the door, using a hand wrapped around the frame to spin himself through it and out into the night air.
She was just ahead of him, trying to run in those ridiculously high boots. Day grinned. She might have a head start on him, but running wasn’t one of her talents. Even with the all-out panic he could read in every line of her body, she had no chance, not against him.
He set off after her, the powerful muscles in his legs driving him forward in a flat sprint. Even though he’d threatened to shoot her, he had no intention of it. Not when he could run her down. Just ahead of him, she squealed; a soft exclamation of denial, fear, frustration.
She tried to turn and evade his grasp, but he already had her. His hands descended on her shoulders just as they reached the truck. With two deft movements, he twisted her arm into a lock, slammed her hard into the hood of the truck, and pinned her there.
“Stupid move,” he told her, using his foot to kick her ankles apart as he pressed her into the cool metal.
“At least I tried,” she snarled in her defense, as if it made any difference. “I’m not going to take this lying down. If you thought that, then you really are an idiot!” She tried to struggle, but he kept the pressure of his body against hers, pinning her against the hood of the truck.
He chuckled, his breath fanning over her neck, and stirring the hair lying across it. “You seem to be lying down right now.”
He felt her shiver underneath him, and she was quiet for a while before she started squirming to try and get out of his grip. “That’s crude even for you, you douche.”
He tightened the grip on her arm until she stopped moving around, then lifted up and flipped her over easily. Despite the sass and attitude that somehow made her seem bigger than she was, she was a slender, petite little thing. Especially when compared to him. Roughly, he shoved her thighs apart, wedged his h*ps between them, and bracketed her head with his hands. It was a risk, letting her hands go. She could always try for his gun. But, fast as she might be, Day knew he was faster. Now, instead of a kidnapper/ victim combo, they looked like lovers to anyone who might catch a glimpse of them from the highway.
He glared at her, filled with determination and anger. He clenched his jaw. “I’ve not even started on crude yet, sweetheart. You want to try for it?”
Her hands went up to his chest, and she tried to push him away. “You’re not the first sleaze ball who tried to act funny with me,” she ground out, anger and frustration emanating from her. “Keep this up, and you’ll get a first-hand look of what I did to him when he tried to be a filthy pig.”
Day shifted his h*ps and lifted up a little, feeling like the creep she’d called him. He’d never, never needed to threaten a woman like this to get her to cooperate. Honey was always so much easier to use than threats. Trouble was, honey didn’t come easily to him. Especially when all his instincts told him she wasn’t indifferent to him. “Methinks the lady doth protest too loudly,” he taunted softly.