Prisoner of Love Read online

  After beating him to the ground until he felt like a pile of pulverized carrots, one of them planted a foot in his chest, leaned into his face and said, “Mr. Farelli wants to know where his money is. You got twenty-four hours to get your shit together and tell me. You can find me in the laundry. If you don’t, it’ll be a finger next.” The guy stood up and gave Jake one more kick in the ribs before saying, “Unless I slip and take the whole hand.” They’d slithered away while laughing menacingly, with the tower guards none the wiser.

  Since he’d been denied phone access because he’d already reached his weekly call quota, Jake took matters into his own hands. Fresh out of the infirmary, he joined his road cleanup crew, and here he was. An escaped con. He had no idea what money those goons had been talking about, but he could guess. Oh, yeah, he could guess. Someone had skimmed Farelli’s take before the bust, and Jake was the fall guy. And he wouldn’t find out who really was guilty if he remained behind bars. Besides, he liked his fingers.

  A muffled sob brought his attention to the girl beside him. His behavior wasn’t much better than the bastards’ he’d been rooming with. She was probably scared shitless. But maintaining his cover was the name of the game for now. So, while feeling uncomfortable with being the cause of her fear, he buried his twinge of compunction under a layer of nastiness that came much too easily to him.

  “Snap out of it,” he barked. “Jesus H. Christ, how’s a man supposed to sleep with you crying and sniveling? Shit—Oh?”

  He reached into the pocket where he’d stowed her phone and pulled it out. “My pants are vibrating, Pretty Kitty—”

  Just like that, the girl rounded on him, eyes narrowing behind her thick glasses. “Stop calling me names! My name is Lucy Parker, or Ms. Parker. And besides, it’s not Pretty Kitty, you moron, it’s ‘Hello Kitty.’” She faced front once more, chin quivering, hands and arms trembling after that out-of-the-blue verbal attack.

  Wasn’t that a surprise, Jake thought, staring at her profile. The girl hid more than generous curves under that ludicrous Pretty—no, Hello Kitty, sweatshirt. She had spunk. He would have liked that, as his other self. But right now, her feistiness only made her a liability.

  “Thank you for clarifying my heinous mistake. I’d hate to be using the incorrect logo. It might give people the wrong impression of me, and I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen.” He stared at the screen. “When were you supposed to meet your friends? Someone named Jane wants to know where you are.”

  He couldn’t miss the bloom of hope as it crossed her face, or the quicksilver smile that disappeared as rapidly as it had come. He felt the need to maintain the upper hand and squelch any expectations she harbored. As well as any remorse he still carried. “Answer me,” he ordered.

  She turned into a lioness, facing him once more. “Stop yelling at me! What do I have to lose? You’re going to kill me anyway…I’ve seen your face. I can identify you. In fact, maybe I’ll do you a favor and head for that guardrail right now, taking you with me.”

  The crazy girl in the driver’s seat abruptly wrenched the wheel to the right. All of a sudden he found himself in a new life or death situation: his own.

  She steered toward the edge of the mountain highway, a look of bleak determination settling over her face as she grabbed their destinies with both hands and held steady onto the wheel. Fingers of brush alongside the road blurred past as the scratched guardrail rushed toward them, and the blue, blue sky beckoned them to heaven.

  “Goddamnit!” Dropping the knife and phone, Jake yanked the steering wheel the other direction, sending them lurching away from the rail and spinning back into the middle of the road with tires squealing. The girl screamed her disappointment, beating on his hands. The outside scenery careened past in an imitation of a carnival ride, while the smell of exhaust assailed his nose.

  With him steering and her feet off the pedals, the car slowed next to the side of the road. The woman covered her eyes with shaking hands. Jake slammed the shifter into park then scrubbed his face with unsteady fingers before leaning back against the cloth seat.

  The idling engine buzzed as he faced his not-so-innocent victim. That had been a close call. He’d seriously underestimated his hostage. Hidden beneath that voluptuous form and all that long hair was a fighting instinct worthy of his own. He had to admire it. Even toyed with the idea of coming clean, of telling her he was a cop. Shit, what he wouldn’t give for someone to look at him with respect. Admiration, even. That was the problem with working undercover. You forgot what it was like to be good.

  But, as much as he wanted to be appreciated for his real accomplishments, now was not the time. She wouldn’t believe his story, anyway. He could cut her loose, though. He didn’t need a hostage. She would only slow him down. And he sure as hell didn’t need one as tempting as Miss Lucy Parker. She’d already taken him by surprise with that suicidal stunt a moment ago. He needed to keep his mind in the game, and not on what was under that kitty cat sweatshirt.

  Opening his mouth to tell her his decision, something up in the sky caught his attention. Peering through the windshield, he spied a helicopter off in the distance. Shit. They’d actually pulled out a search helicopter for his escape. This day was just getting better and better. Now he had to go to ground, and take this woman with him, at least until his pursuers widened their net.

  “I am not a killer,” he said, with one eye trained on the approaching chopper. “That’s not what I was in for. After we get far enough away, I will happily dump you somewhere and you can go home. Killing you would solve nothing, although now I’m not so sure.” He shot her another considering look.

  She rested her forehead against the steering wheel, unaware of how close rescue was. Another pang of conscience speared him. He forced it down. He had to remain the bastard to keep her in line, no matter how repugnant it felt to do so. They were stuck with each other, at least for a while longer.

  Heaving a sigh, he continued, “So, if you’re finished with your melodramatics, take that turn up ahead. I need to disappear for a few hours until they’re off my tail, and you’re my wheels. Once I’ve had a chance to lay low and find my bearings, I’ll be on my way and you’ll get your life back. Now, drive.”

  He retrieved the phone and file from the floor of the car while keeping an eye on her and replied to the text from this Jane person. After pretending to be his captive and telling Jane something had come up, he apologized and signed off, hoping his answer sounded enough like her to prevent any more questions.

  Without looking at him, the young woman put the car back into drive and continued up the mountain silently. Glancing skyward, he acknowledged that he’d finally broken her spirit. The thought turned his stomach.

  She’d been driving for hours, it seemed. Once Lucy had taken the narrow mountain road her kidnapper indicated, the line of blacktop twisted farther into the mountainous, isolated terrain. She stared forward impassively, while trying to ignore the fact that she needed to use a restroom.

  Just when she thought she would have to degrade herself more by asking to go relieve herself in the bushes, her captor pointed through the windshield. “Turn there, where that dirt track is.”

  Like an automaton she jerked the wheel to the right, plunged off the paved road, and pulled onto a dusty path barely wider than the car. How the heck had he found this donkey trail?

  “So far, so good,” he said barely above a whisper.

  She continued up the steep drive, hoping against hope that a cabin filled with a loud, boisterous family would appear around the bend, ending her nightmare. Except then they would be in danger as well. Maybe a hunter’s lodge?

  A cabin did come into view after the next turn, low and rambling, made of wood siding with a dark shingled roof covered with brown and green pine needles from the crowding trees. It looked so obviously empty that she groaned her dismay out loud.

  “Well, well. Not all my luck’s been shit down the toilet. This is just what I was hoping fo
r. And obviously not in use this weekend. Just to be safe, go around and park behind the house, away from view of the driveway.”

  The convict craned his neck at the cabin while Lucy slowly drove around back. A rusty, partially refurbished Postal jeep rested under the carport with bricks behind its tires. Cords of wood were stacked along the back of the place. Most likely a fireplace offered the only source of heat for this home away from home.

  Before she’d even shifted into park her kidnapper climbed out of the car, stretching his arms and arching his back, Lucy’s phone in one hand and his homemade knife in the other. If only there was a way to get either of those items out of his grasp. But how could she expect to overpower him, with his wiry frame and piercing eyes that missed nothing? She turned off the car and stepped into the nippy air.

  “Get a move on,” he immediately snapped, gaze lifting skyward. “No need to stand around out here, freezing our asses off.”

  What did it really matter? Lucy thought as she watched him study the gray sky. She was going to die. She didn’t believe for one minute that he was going to set her loose. He’d just said that to placate her. She could tell the man was conniving. He’d searched her glovebox for weapons, plus he’d impersonated her via text to stop Jane from worrying.

  No, he wouldn’t risk his freedom by giving her hers. He’d kill her and dispose of her, perhaps bury her body in a shallow grave nearby. She would simply cease to exist.

  The thought returned tremors to her body in full force, coursing down her backbone and through her arms and legs like pulsing electrical currents.

  Raising her head, she found him staring at her with the oddest expression on his bearded face. An almost apologetic look. But then it was gone. He moved to the front of the car, opening its hood while abruptly beginning to hum a tune between his teeth.

  She crept around to see what he was doing, maintaining a wide distance. What the heck? He’d pulled something off the engine. Oh, she should have taken a car basics class. At least then she would know what he was doing, although it wasn’t hard to guess. He was rendering the vehicle useless for escape. He thought of everything, it seemed.

  Her captor ducked out from under the hood and slammed it down with one hand, holding out the octopus-looking thing he’d removed for her to examine. “It’s the distributor cap. Can’t leave home without it.” An ironic snort erupted from him while he tossed a glance at the postal jeep and its already raised hood.

  Shaking his head, he ambled over to the vehicle. “Never leave the hood up for extended periods of time. All sorts of varmints will make a home in an engine. This one’s already missing the battery.” He glanced around the carport. “Oh, it’s on the workbench. At least someone was thinking there. Know how to put one in?”

  “N-no, I don’t. Why?”

  Of course she understood why. But no, she couldn’t fix a car. She couldn’t survive on her own in the wilderness, either. She hiccupped, the sound drawing a disgusted growl from him as he chucked her distributor cap onto the workbench and wiped his dirty hands on the legs of his prison jumpsuit.

  “Christ, stop the sniveling. I already told you I’m not going to hurt you.”

  He opened his mouth to say more but Lucy blurted angrily, “Shut up. I don’t believe anything you’ve said. You’re a lying, thieving, escaped convict who…who probably overpowered his guards by…” Lucy cast about in her mind for something derogatory to fire at him. She couldn’t come up with anything except, “Severe body odor.”

  Oh. My. God. That was what came out of her mouth? Seriously? Just how old was she? Twelve? And the kicker was, he didn’t even stink, which she would have expected of an escaped con. Instead, he smelled like the shrubs along the road, the wind. Lucy wanted to sink right into the ground beneath her. With eyes scrunched tight, she waited for the knife he carried to slash into her body—

  “That’s all you could think of?” His voice came from behind her now, and Lucy’s eyes snapped open as she spun around to face her kidnapper, air whooshing out in relief that she wasn’t getting knifed.

  He studied her with his head cocked, and she forgot to breathe as she faced his dark-eyed scrutiny. He exuded danger in every move he made, in every look he tossed her way. Yet for all his bluster, she was beginning to notice he hadn’t done anything violent to her after waving that knife. Did that mean he wouldn’t? Lucy didn’t want to find out the answer.

  Abruptly, he stepped back, took out her phone from his front jumpsuit pocket, and threw another considering look her way. “My apologies if I don’t suit your obviously high standards. I’ve been slumming it for the past month or so and have apparently let myself go. I’ll get right on fixing that.”

  His sarcastic comment, coupled with the unexpected humor glinting in his eyes, made her pause. He really wasn’t fitting the TV and movie role of escaped criminal that she was familiar with. He should be yelling at her. Acting crude and coarse. But, except for his continued swearing, he really hadn’t done anything else remotely violent. Which was puzzling, to say the least. However, the bottom line was, she was still his hostage. And she could never forget that.

  Muttering something about having no bars, he flipped over her cell, removed the battery casing and battery itself before replacing its cover and pocketing the battery. Lucy felt like throwing herself to the ground in a temper tantrum, but she maintained cool while she watched her phone disappear into his jumpsuit pocket.

  “Let’s get inside and see what you can rustle us up for food, and maybe I can replace this monkey suit. Start making amends for my lapse in etiquette.”

  Then he grabbed her elbow, dragged her to the door under the carport. She tried twisting out of his grasp, but a quick jerk on her arm told Lucy he was serious. He pushed her against the wall next to the door and knelt to peruse the lock. Lucy made to move, but he stopped her, hand fastening around her calf, fingers digging into the flesh.

  “Don’t even think of running.”

  And just where would she go? She had no delusions about being able to outrace him to civilization.

  He shot her a sharp look and she swallowed her words. Gone was the glint of humor of a moment before. In its place shimmered a touch of banked violence, letting Lucy know he was very unhappy with her behavior.

  Immediately, she subsided against the wall, biting her lip.

  His attention dropped to the lock once more. “Do you have a hair pin?”

  After the silent reprimand she’d just received, Lucy simply shook her head. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, the convict rose to his feet and stepped back a few paces. “Guess I’ll have to use my own personal password.” He raised a leg, swiftly kicking open the door with one foot.

  The flimsy barrier slammed against the inside wall, bouncing back toward them, and he shot out his arm to catch it. Turning to Lucy with a sweeping gesture and a half bow he said, “After you, my lady,” and paused, waiting for her to step through the doorway.

  Still recovering from the unexpected violence and wishing she didn’t have to go inside, Lucy passed cautiously by her kidnapper and advanced into the cabin’s shadowed kitchen, wrinkling her nose at the stuffy air of a vacant home.

  The kitchen was a standard galley with gray Formica countertops, a dull, brick-red linoleum floor, and stained wood cabinets. A window above the sink looked out onto the carport, and across from the sink stood the stove/oven combination. There was no dishwasher, though a fridge crouched near the back of the kitchen.

  Pushing past her, the convict flipped the kitchen wall switch and two pale ceiling lights that seemed to have time-traveled from the 1950s glowed weakly from above. Lucy stared up at them, surprised to find working electricity. On the other hand, the man appeared ecstatic, striding out of the kitchen and deeper into the cabin’s environs, flicking wall switches as he went and commenting like a sports announcer along the way.

  Lucy listened with only half an ear. Whatever he said wouldn’t change her situation. Was this ugly, time-warped, abandoned
cabin going to be the last place she inhabited? Would Lucy Parker ever be found after today, or would her image someday appear on an episode of America’s Most Wanted? She forced herself to tune back in to his manic prattle, if only to bring her emotions under control.

  “Holy shit. This place looks like a set from Duck Dynasty.” Her captor poked his head around the kitchen doorway. “I’ve always wanted to hunt with ol’ Willie. Get in here, Miss Kitty. Quit your pouting.” He held out his hand imperiously for hers, but she ignored it and just plodded into the dated great room, wishing she were anywhere but here in this cabin, with this man.

  She had to admit that the plaid chairs with colonial wood accents, table lamps with huge shades, and an oval rope rug over a rough-hewn wood floor did indeed remind her of what the Robertson family might have lived in before they got rich. Too bad a real-life hunting family didn’t live here. She might have been rescued by them. Unfortunately, the place was as empty as her bladder was full. Reminded of that fact, she blurted, “I need to use the bathroom.”

  Her kidnapper glanced down the darkened hallway. “Well, hell, I’m hoping it’s down this way, although this place looks like it lends itself to an outhouse. Follow me.” He moved down the hall with a purposeful stride, swinging doors open roughly and narrating, “Bedroom. Another bedroom, with more shitty plaid,” and at the end of the hall, “Hallelujah, it’s the head.”

  Light from a rectangular window over the toilet brightened the room, but it, like the rest of the cabin, had seen better days. Lucy stepped back, not liking the convict’s proximity, though he moved out of the doorway. “Well,” he said. “You hit the jackpot. A real bathroom with indoor plumbing. No litter box for you, Pretty Kitty.” He snorted at his own lame joke.

  Lucy didn’t crack a smile. “May I?”

  Her kidnapper waved her in, heading back down the hall toward the great room, saying over his shoulder, “Knock yourself out. But hurry up. I’m getting hungry.” His voice faded as his body disappeared from sight.