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When her abductor reached for the door handle, her teeth came down hard on the meaty part of his palm and she rammed her elbow
into his belly. He flinched and grunted a curse; Barrie took off at a sprint. Her freedom was short-lived. He grabbed a handful of her hair and brought her up short.
She was spun around and shaken so hard that she feared she would break. “Stop fighting me, goddammit. I’m trying to keep you alive.”
When her brain stopped jiggling, she realized she was in the company of Gray Bondurant.
* * *
“Do you have your glasses with you?”
He was driving, heading toward a suburb in Maryland. He drove skillfully, but safely within the speed limit. The last thing he wanted was to be stopped for a routine traffic ticket. He kept one eye on the rearview mirror, but after a few blocks, he was positive they weren’t being followed. No one was looking for him. Yet.
Realizing that his question hadn’t registered with his passenger, he glanced across the car at her. She was staring straight ahead through the windshield, dazed. “Do you have your glasses?” he repeated.
She turned to him, stared at him blankly for several seconds, then nodded. Inexplicably, she’d managed to keep her satchel on her shoulder.
“Take out your contacts and put on your glasses,” he instructed.
She wet her lips, swallowed. “How did you know—”
“I know. Just do it. Then tuck your hair up under that baseball cap.” He’d brought one along. It was lying in the seat between them.
“What… Why…”
“Because I don’t want to risk your being recognized.”
“By whom?”
“By the guys who blew your house to smithereens, who do you think?”
“My dog’s dead.”
Her voice cracked. The headlights of an oncoming car were reflected in her teary eyes. She began to cry, quietly. Gray took the coward’s way and said nothing. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He wasn’t much good at that sort of thing. But he preferred her crying to acting like a zombie.
He continued to drive, literally going with the flow. When her tears finally subsided, he pulled into the parking lot of a twenty-four-hour coffee shop.
“We’ve got a lot to talk about,” he said. “I can’t take you in there if you’re going to fall apart on me and attract attention.”
He sat by while she removed her contact lenses and put on her eyeglasses. He’d seen the glasses in her satchel when he’d gone through it after discovering her asleep on his sofa.
“Do you have a handkerchief?” she asked.
“No.”
She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Then I’m ready. But forget that cap. Nobody’s going to recognize me.”
Before he could stop her, she opened the door and got out. He caught up with her as she was greeted by the smiling hostess, who escorted them to a booth. He declined the glossy menu. “Just coffee, please.”
It was a well-lighted place. Only a few of the booths were occupied. One section of the dining room had been roped off; the floor was being mopped with a strong solution that compromised the aroma of fried ham and pancake syrup.
“Mr. Bondurant, how is it that you managed to abduct me just seconds after my house was blown up?”
He refrained from answering until after the waitress had poured their coffee and withdrawn. “I didn’t do it, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“That’s exactly what I was suggesting.”
“Well, you’re wrong.” Looking down at his coffee, he added, “Too bad about your dog.”
