He made a derisive sound, as if annoyed with her. As if he had a right to be. “We need gas and after this I’m dropping you somewhere very public.”
“What?” She knew what he’d told her, but it just seemed so soon. She turned in her seat as he pulled into a nearly deserted gas station. She noticed he’d picked one right before they got into the actual downtown area. Less crowded.
Avoiding her gaze, he nodded. “After I drop you off I assume you’ll call Burkhart. I’m going to do the same and just let him pick me up instead of going through a whole clandestine meet at a warehouse.”
She bit her bottom lip, feeling irrationally worried about the man who’d kidnapped her that morning. “You shouldn’t wait somewhere public, not with the recent broadcast.” As she said that, she looked around the gas station, suddenly worried about him being spotted. People were usually so involved in their own lives that they didn’t notice others, but Tucker had a distinguished face. Everything about him was hard and intense. The kind of man you wouldn’t want to go up against in a fight. The kind of man who was hard to ignore.
“Now I feel even shittier for taking you,” he muttered.
She turned back to look at him as he stopped in front of a pump and turned off the engine. “Why? I mean, yeah, you should feel bad for kidnapping me, but why do you feel worse?”
Instead of answering, he just gave her a long, hard look that might have had a hint of desire in it before he grabbed a ball cap and got out of the truck. She wasn’t exactly sure what was behind that look, but it warmed her from the inside out. Frowning, she sat back against the seat and did what she always did: she started analyzing her strange reaction. She couldn’t be affected by her kidnapper . . . could she?
Almost against her will, she watched him head inside the store. Probably to pay in cash. With a ball cap, sunglasses, and the thick scarf around his neck, he was hiding most of his face. He certainly was trusting her not to run off. If she was going to flee, now was the time. She was starting to trust him and that made her feel she was being incredibly stupid. The same kind of stupid woman her mother had been. So what if he’d been in the Marines like her brother? And so what if he’d been a nice kidnapper? He was still her freaking kidnapper.
God, it was as if she already had Stockholm syndrome. She didn’t actually believe he’d kill her instead of dropping her somewhere, but she couldn’t risk staying. With shaking hands, she unstrapped her seat belt and slid across to the driver’s side. Her side faced the big window front of the store and she wanted all the cover she could get. He’d taken the keys, of course, and since she had no idea how to hot-wire a vehicle, she kept moving, just barely opening the door and easing out. She wasn’t familiar with this neighborhood, but it couldn’t be that hard to find a pay phone or borrow someone’s cell phone.
With her heart racing, she watched Tucker inside the store. He wasn’t even looking outside. Which seemed weird. It was as if he was intentionally turning his back to her. That couldn’t be right, though, unless he wanted her to run.
Taking a deep breath, she popped up from her position hiding behind the truck and moved quickly to the side of the store. From there, she could see the rest of the street. A strip of stores lined either side of the street. There was even a Starbucks.
Without looking back she started running. Her legs strained, her breath sawing in and out as she pushed forward full speed. Her ankle twinged each time her foot hit the pavement, but she ignored the pain. A quick glance over her shoulder showed that no one was following her. Still, she didn’t allow a fraction of relief to slide through her. Not yet. Not until she was completely free.
The cold air burned her lungs, icy and cutting. As she neared the Starbucks and saw multiple people inside, some on their laptops, others on their tablets, and even some just drinking coffee and chatting with friends, her surroundings felt almost surreal. She slowed her pace so she didn’t look quite as manic.
She’d been kidnapped this morning, yet here she was, running up to a coffee shop as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Shoving her trembling hands into her pockets, she crossed the parking lot. As she reached the entrance, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her name.
“Karen?” a man called out.
Fearing that it was Tucker, she turned to find a policeman getting out of an unmarked Explorer. He was in full uniform, though, clearly a patrolman. How did this guy know her name? Before the thought had formed, she realized Wesley must have filed a missing person report. It would certainly make sense.
He had a cell phone in his hand and looked at the screen, then her. Yep, he was looking at her picture. “Karen Stafford?”
Throat tight, she nodded and stepped back from the glass door. Clearing her throat, she nodded. “I’m Karen.”
“Have you been injured?”
“I’m okay.” Nervously she glanced around, expecting Tucker to jump out of nowhere. But deep down she figured he’d let her go. There was no way he’d have just let her escape like that. He was too trained and too smart. And he’d let her have her knife back. It had almost felt like a peace offering. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.
Watching her carefully, the man nodded. “Do you know who Selene Marks is?”
Marks was one of Selene’s aliases, so Karen nodded. “Yes, we work together.”
“Good. Can you please come stand by my car? I have instructions to call her.” His tone was kind, but he wasn’t asking, he was definitely ordering.
Nodding, Karen did as he said. He pulled out his radio and made a call to his station, calling for backup.
She listened as he finished the call and quickly made another one. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the side of the Explorer and massaged her temple. Too many conflicting emotions hummed through her.
Her eyes snapped open at a very familiar voice. “Drop the phone or I put a bullet in you.”
She pushed up from the vehicle.
Tucker stood behind the cop, a gun trained on the back of the man’s head. The cop’s jaw was clenched tight, but he let the phone fall from his fingers. It clattered against the sidewalk. Moving with a lethal efficiency, Tucker removed the guy’s radio, gun, pepper spray, and even his backup weapon in a matter of seconds.
She barely had time to think, he moved so fast.
“Karen, open the driver’s door,” he ordered without looking at her.
His face was a mask of hard, intimidating lines. “Don’t hurt him,” she rasped out.
“I’m not going to. Open the damn door.”
With shaking hands, she did.
“Get in,” he said softly to the patrolman.
It was clear the other man had to fight his instincts. “Don’t be stupid. No one’s been hurt. Just let the woman go.”
Tucker ignored him and gave the guy his own cuffs. “Secure yourself to the steering wheel. Now,” he ordered when the guy paused a fraction too long.
As soon as he did it, Tucker slammed the door shut and reached for her. She flinched away from him, not wanting his hands on her. She was so stupid for thinking he’d let her go, that he’d just let her run away. No, he’d been planning to kill her or worse all along.
Iciness slid down her spine, making it difficult to breathe, to think.
“Damn it, Karen, the gun’s not fucking loaded,” he snapped, frustration more than anything in his voice as he holstered his weapon out of sight.
His words shook her out of her near panic. “What?”