Vaughn said nothing, only dug his cell phone out of his jacket and scrolled until he found the right contact. “I have her. We’re at…” He paused to glance around for a street sign. “Corner of Elysian Fields and North Rampart. Yeah, I see you coming. We’re crossing to your side of the street now.” As he spoke, he dragged her across the road to the grassy median, where they waited for several cars to pass before a black SUV with a roof rack pulled up into the turning lane. Vaughn pocketed his cell phone, yanked open the back door, and pushed her inside.
She had to throw out a hand to keep from face-planting on the seat. “I’m really getting sick of all this shoving.”
Again, he ignored her and settled in next to her. He reached forward with his free hand to clasp the driver’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” The driver glanced back, his smile still as charming as ever. Marcus. Should have figured. “You sure know how to show a guy a good time, doll.”
“Fuck you.”
He laughed and met Vaughn’s gaze. “Where to? Your car?”
“No, airport. I don’t want to give her the time to plot another escape.”
Marcus flicked a glance at her, and the corner of his mouth kicked up in a half smile. “She is, too. I can see it in her eyes. Airport it is, then. Jean-Luc and I will return your car to the rental place tomorrow.”
“Appreciate it.”
No. Not the airport. Panic reared up and threatened to strangle her. She couldn’t go back to DC, had to get away somehow, but no ideas were coming to mind. She could escape handcuffs, but she wouldn’t get very far with Vaughn sitting beside her. Until he gave her an opening, she was trapped.
For the first time in years, she felt completely… helpless. And God, she’d promised herself she’d never feel this way again. She turned her face away and stared out the window.
This couldn’t be happening. She’d been so careful for so many years, and now everything was crashing down around her…
All because of Vaughn fucking Wilde.
Chapter Five
“This isn’t going to work.”
Vaughn ignored Lark—Sage—whatever the hell her name was—and dragged her from the vehicle to the sidewalk outside the airline terminal. He took a moment to drop a coat over their cuffed hands to hide them from passersby, then turned back to Marcus. “Thanks, Deangelo. I owe you one.”
Marcus gave a kind of half nod, an upward jerk of the chin. “It was more entertaining than watching Jean-Luc fuck his way through the female population of Bourbon Street. Well, except for the whole tasering thing. I could’ve done without that.” He winked at Sage. “You hurt me, doll. I thought we had something special.”
“Marcus.” Vaughn put enough bite of warning in his tone to tell the guy to back off. But this was Marcus Deangelo, so of course he didn’t. He just grinned and held up his hands in supplication.
“Relax, dude. I’m not trying to edge into your turf.”
“She’s not my turf,” he said at the same time Sage snarled, “I’m not his anything.”
Marcus’s gaze darted between them. “Uh-huh. Lemme tell ya, I’ve heard that line of bullshit before from three separate guys. Know how they ended up?” He ticked each off on his fingers. “One, married. Two, might as well be married. Three, baby daddy.” He pointed at Vaughn. “Watch yourself.”
“Good-bye, Marcus.” Vaughn shut the door on his laughter and started toward the terminal, but of course it couldn’t be that easy.
Sage dug in her heels, forcing him to either stop or drag her inside kicking and screaming. And he had no doubt she would kick and scream if he tried.
Reining in his impatience—which took a hell of a lot more effort than it should have—he faced her again. “What?”
Her chin hitched up. “I’m telling you, this isn’t going to work. No airline will let me on a plane. I don’t have ID. It’s in my purse back in my apartment.”
Which she’d left behind, no doubt, because she’d been planning to steal someone else’s identity when she got to wherever she’d been headed. More lies, more fraud, and probably another conned boyfriend she’d lead around by the dick.
And that royally pissed him off.
Still, he had to admit, it didn’t change the fact she was right. She wasn’t getting on a plane without a valid form of ID, and his P.I. license wasn’t enough to allow him to transport her as a prisoner—something he would have considered before now if he had his damn head screwed on straight.
He was still half-hard from her attempted seduction at the bus stop, and it was…distracting. She was distracting. Had been from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on her at Jude and Libby’s wedding, a blue bridesmaid dress clinging to every dangerous curve of her body. That first meeting, she’d glared at him, eyes narrowed…
Much like she was right now.