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The waitress, as if she, too, were in on the plan, appeared at that moment, brandy snifters and a leather bill folder in hand. As she melted away again, Damon reached quickly back into the pocket of his sports jacket and grabbed the tiny vial of clear, tasteless liquid—the first phase of Callie’s medical cocktail.
Unscrewing the tiny cap, he quickly poured the contents into her snifter. Mission accomplished, he pulled out a wad of bills and placed them inside the leather folder.
Callie returned, hair smoothed and fresh lipstick applied, and once more took her seat.
“Try the cognac,” Damon encouraged. “It’s a very fine brandy.”
Callie lifted her glass and took a dainty sip. “Oh, this is good,” she enthused. She took another sip. Excellent. One more should do it.
Damon lifted his glass to his lips as a subliminal message that she continue to drink hers. He couldn’t help but smile when she obliged. This was like taking candy from a baby.
He glanced at his watch. The drug would take about fifteen minutes to reach its full effect. They needed to get going. He pushed back his chair. “Where to, mademoiselle? Did you want to check out my private BDSM club?”
Not that he actually belonged to any such club. He couldn’t stand all their stupid rules about safe, sane and consensual. Where was the fun in that?
“I’d be delighted to be the first to introduce you to ‘real live BDSM’,” he added with a smile. That much, at least, was true. He couldn’t wait.
She brought her arms protectively around her torso. “Um, gosh. Thanks, but I don’t think so. Not tonight. Maybe another time? With Diana?”
“Of course,” he said easily, not surprised. He got to his feet. She’d mentioned earlier in the evening that she was still getting used to navigating Chicago’s public transportation system. As he pulled on his sports jacket, he asked casually, “Can I give you a lift home? It’s no trouble.” Silently, he willed her to agree.
“Thanks. I would appreciate that.”
Bingo.
It took all his willpower not to whoop aloud with triumphant glee.
Consummate gentleman that he was, he helped her on with her coat and then escorted her lightly by the elbow through the crowded restaurant. As they got to the door, he reached into his jacket, curling his fingers around the syringe in the inside pocket. Everything was going just exactly according to plan…Chapter 3As they neared the rented sedan, Damon unlocked the doors with his key fob. He’d already made arrangements for the rental company to pick the car up the next morning at the private airport where he kept his plane.
Callie stumbled a bit as they approached the car, the drug already taking effect.
“Whoa,” he said solicitously, again taking her arm. “You okay?”
“I’m—I’m not sure,” she said a little thickly. “I feel weird.” She gave a small laugh. “I think that brandy must have gone to my head more than I realized.”
One hand on her arm, the other on the small of her back, he led her to the passenger side. Reaching around her, he opened the door. “No worries. I’ll have you home in a jiffy.” He kept his hand solicitously on her arm as she lowered herself onto the seat.
“Let me help you with that,” he said, gently pulling her purse from her arm and settling it on the floor at her feet. She barely seemed to register what he was doing.
“I feel really weird,” she said again, putting a hand over her face. After a moment, she reached for her seatbelt, fumbling ineffectually with the buckle.
“I got it.” Damon reached across her to pull the belt over her. As he did so, he brushed his arm against one plump little breast. Again, she barely seemed to notice what he was doing. Her eyelids fluttered closed.
Her seatbelt in place, he closed her door and moved quickly around to the driver’s seat. He glanced at her as he buckled his own seatbelt and started the engine. Her eyes remained closed, her head now lolling against the back of the seat.
“You okay?” he asked softly as he backed out of the parking spot and turned the car toward the road.
“Mmhm,” she murmured.
Good thing he’d parked close to the restaurant. The drug was working a little faster than he’d anticipated.
“What’s your address so I can put it into the GPS system?” he queried, not that he had any intention of doing so.
She mumbled something incoherent, her eyes still closed.
He entered the stream of traffic and drove for a while, his heart racing with nervous excitement. He’d envisioned this scenario a hundred times, imagining all the different ways it could go wrong. But so far, it was going without a hitch. There were only a few more hurdles to get past, and then he could relax.
Damon exited the highway several stops before the turnoff for the private airport. He drove to the McDonald’s he’d scoped out earlier in the week. He waited until a couple getting out of their car went inside the building. Then he drove around back, pulling to a stop by the dumpster. Leaving the car running, he turned off the headlights. He was pleased to note the streetlamp located near the dumpster was still burned out, only the ambient light from the restaurant windows illuminating the space.
