Someone—she wasn’t sure who, since she didn’t look back—said, “Not if you follow orders.”
Well. They certainly weren’t ruling it out. Hopefully, Leese had understood her subtle message and was already at the office with Enoch. The tracking device could be easily positioned in her clothes or jewelry. For now, she’d made it part of her necklace. She prayed they wouldn’t take that from her—if it would even work down in the bowels of the building.
She stood to pace. Her heels made a distinct clinking noise against the concrete. It wasn’t just the feminine style of stilettos that she loved, it was the sound the heels made that really did it for her. The cadence helped her to focus.
She’d deliberately called Brand instead of Leese. If she’d had more time to consider it once they thrust the phone into her hand, she might have come up with another solution. But the boss man had already explained that he studied up on all her guys and had files on each of the bodyguards, new and old. That meant she had to take them by surprise somehow.
They wouldn’t have anything on Brand since he wasn’t part of the agency. At least, she hoped they wouldn’t. He’d been there a few times, most recently that very day. But then, clients came and went, too, as did delivery people. For all they knew, Brand wasn’t anyone special.
She knew better.
Brand Berry was her own personal temptation, and that made him special indeed.
Dragging him in to things kicking and complaining wasn’t really her style, but then neither was losing.
Would he come after her?
She honestly didn’t know and wasn’t sure if she wanted him risking himself anyway. Circling the room again, she thought about what she’d say to him, what he might say to her—
“Sit down,” one of the men said.
Another added, “Or at least take off those heels.”
With a toss of her hair, she continued to pace. “If I’m dying anyway, I might as well suit myself.”
She heard the footsteps as one of the men started forward with a snarl.
Then the boss man’s voice intruded with “Back off,” as he bounded down the steps.
“She started it.”
Sahara turned with disbelief. “Grade school complaints? Really?”
A hard hand clamped around her arm and the boss said near her ear, “Quit pushing your luck,” while propelling her toward the cot.
She couldn’t keep herself from asking, “Or what?”
He pulled out a big shiny blade—and effectively stole her bravado.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE SHRANK BACK as he brandished that knife—then let out a thick breath when he only cut away part of the knot holding the ropes around her wrists.
Resisting the urge to rub the abraded skin, she asked, “Just to be clear, you’re not going to stab me?”
“No. But if you can’t contain yourself instead of needling my men, I’ll take away all of your clothes and tie you naked to the cot.”
As far as threats went, that was a doozy. To cover her horror over such an idea, she grumbled, “I’d freeze.”
An arrested expression showed in his eyes seconds before he laughed. “You’re entertaining, honey, when you’re not provoking.” He spun her around and, without a lot of finesse, jerked away her coat.
“Wait,” she protested, trying to hold on to it. “I really will freeze and I promise not to—”
He tossed it to one of the others and said, “Check the pockets.” Then he eyed her up and down. “Behave.”
She had to swallow twice to get her heart out of her throat. Rather than agree with his edict—because she really wasn’t sure she could behave—Sahara crossed her arms. The small room had already warmed considerably, so everyone would see it as a defensive move and she knew it.
“Nothing in them.” The man handed the coat back to her, but when she only glared, he dropped it on the bed.
The boss extended a hand past her and Freckles brought him her purse. He upended it on the cot, then pawed through everything. A comb, her cell phone, a bag of M&M’s, a small tin of aspirin, a tampon—he balked at the sight of that, then balked again at the pack of condoms.
Pale blue eyes slowly pinned her.
She shrugged. “I’m nothing if not prepared.”
He stared a moment more, then asked, “Did you leave your keys in the ignition?”
“Please. My car has a keyless ignition.” She gave him a look of haughty indignation for thinking she’d be so foolish. “The key fob is in an inside zippered pocket.”
He opened it, his large hands clumsy against the small accessory. Her keys went in his pocket along with her cell phone—not that she’d expected to keep either. It’d be great if they at least left her purse with her.
“This?”
“Makeup remover cloths. Never know when I might need to do a touch-up.” She unbent enough to reach for the purse. “Allow me, before you destroy something.”
He gestured in a be-my-guest way, but said, “Any tricks at all, and you won’t like the results.”
She glanced up and saw two men with guns trained on her.
Definitely no trust at all. Opening another pocket, she retrieved her lipstick and mascara, with a small vial of perfume. The last pocket, on the bottom of the purse, held a power bank and extra cord. “In case my phone dies.”
He took everything, squeezed every inch of her purse to ensure nothing else was inside, then dropped it on the bed with the things he hadn’t confiscated.
Considering how he’d just manhandled her purse... “What did you do with my car? And if you say you torched it and shoved it off a cliff, I’m going to be really pissed.”
Amusement curled one side of his mouth. “It’s parked at the end of your driveway.” He eyed her askance. “Know a lot of cliffs around the city, do you?”
She waved a hand. “I meant that metaphorically.” She gave him her own shrewd look. “How did you know where I live?”
His gaze hardened. “We know everything about you.”
Well. That was alarming. “You’ve been following me for a while?”
He reached out and smoothed his thumb over her cheek, freezing her with the alarming gentleness. “Get comfortable, Sahara. It’s going to be a long night.”
Now she clutched at him. In bold accusation, she said, “You’re leaving me here alone—” she stabbed a finger toward the others “—with them?”
All she could see were those pale eyes, but they definitely softened. “You’ll be on this side of the locked door, and the guards will be on the other. Stay quiet, stay still and they’ll have no reason to disturb you.”
A little desperate, she blurted, “But I’m hungry.”
“You have candy.” He gestured at the M&M’s on the cot.
“I need real food! I worked all day, straight through lunch in fact, and was going to eat dinner as soon as I got home.”
Under the tight mask, his jaw flexed. He turned to one of the men and said, “Go rustle up something. Make it quick.”
The guy literally bolted from the room, taking the steps two at a time.
Glad of the slight reprieve, she sat on the cot and sighed again. “How much did you ask for?”
He knew exactly what she meant and replied, “Half a million.”
The quick answer threw her. “Really? How did you come to that number?”
“Why not? You’ve got it.”
She had it, yes, but it wasn’t lying around like petty cash. Was poor Enoch scrambling, trying to figure out a way to get the funds together?
Or more likely, Enoch and her men were coming up with a daring and romantic play to get her back without giving the villains a single dime.
She liked that theory better. “So because I have financial security, you figured you’d rob me of it?”
“We’re not robbing you. Scott’s the one who cheated us out of it.”
“By dying?” she asked, incredulous. No other conclusion came to her because her brother was an honest, honorable man.
Snorting, boss man sat beside her. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.” His massive thigh pressed against hers and she felt the heat of his body all along her side.
“No, I don’t.” Trying for subtlety, she inched away. “Tell me why you don’t believe it.” She needed some reassurance, damn it.