3

As they travelled away from downtown, streetlights no longer lit the van’s interior, and darkness concealed the compassion in Cowboy’s eyes. Doubts erased Skylar’s fledgling hope. She couldn’t harbor false expectations. She’d probably misread the empathy in his expression. Why would this man have compassion for her? Men like him—cold, cunning, ruthless—didn’t have human emotions. She hadn’t found a weak link. He was with them, and he had her under his control.

But why had they taken her? Was this related to the stolen money or was it a random act? Something worse, perhaps? Human trafficking? The mere thought sent fear jolting throughout her body. But, she couldn’t succumb. She had to keep her mind sharp and focus on details she could relay to the authorities once she escaped. And she would get away. She had to.

Although she couldn’t see much in the dark, she reviewed what she could remember about the men, noting details she needed to clarify. The driver wore a knit cap. What color was his hair? Ike, the lanky man who’d grabbed her from the street, had a mole on his right cheek, or was it his left? He had a scar across his narrow forehead. How long was it?

Cowboy, on the other hand, needed no further investigation. She clearly pictured his rugged features in her mind—features she might consider handsome had they met under different circumstances. Intense, cobalt blue eyes showcased determination and experience. His angular, clean shaven jaw held underlying strength. His nose, slightly bent, led down to well-defined lips that had uttered quiet reassurances. His voice, low, untamable, had distinct qualities that set him apart. He’d spoken cold, harsh words to the men in front, but when he’d whispered in her ear his tone held subtle vibrations that soothed rather than provoked.

The man proved to be an enigma. A team player—yet set apart. Could it be his motives didn’t fully align with the others? Regardless, Skylar prohibited hope from rising. Cowboy was with them, and that meant he was dangerous.

The driver turned from smooth pavement onto a gravel road. The van bounced across the uneven ground, jerking her from her thoughts. She estimated they’d travelled about thirty minutes. Her tears had dried, but moisture gathered beneath Cowboy’s palm as he continued to hold her silent. Had she broken into a sweat, or had he?

Cowboy shifted as if anticipating…something. What could this brawny man be nervous about? He had the upper hand. But circumstances could change. Skylar eyed her purse. If she could reach the pepper spray inside, she’d have a fighting chance. Too bad Ike had tossed the bag out of reach.

She tested Cowboy’s hold only to find his strength unyielding.

“Easy now. When we get there, stay close to me,” he urged.

Yeah, right. Given an opportunity, she would put as much distance between them as possible.

Skylar endured the van’s jostling until the driver slowed. He pressed a button on a rectangular box and a garage door wound upward. Light spilled from inside a large, high-ceilinged building. With the van’s interior illuminated, Skylar searched for a makeshift weapon, but the cargo area held nothing but dented steel, dust, and a stale, musty odor. She renewed her struggles.

“Relax, princess.” The driver pulled into the building, shifted into park and cut the engine. The interior fell silent. “You’re not going anywhere until we have what we need.” He pressed the remote again, no doubt closing the door behind them.

What could they possibly want? She didn’t have money. Then again, they’d taken her from outside the office. Could these men think to use her as a path to Uncle Winston’s fortune? If so, they had another think coming. Skylar jerked her head to the side, freeing her mouth from Cowboy’s grip. “Let me go. I will never betray my uncle.”

“Uncle?” The driver twisted in his seat. He looked to be in his mid-forties with a square face and deep creases around his eyes. Catching his first solid look at Skylar since she’d been taken, his lips curled into a grimace, and then he let out a colorful expletive.

Ike turned to look, too. His face paled and his jaw went slack.

Cowboy loosened his hold. She tore from his grasp. His questioning gaze zeroed in. “You’re Hayworth’s niece?”

Who exactly did they think they’d kidnapped?

She had no time to analyze their reactions. Answers would come later. For now, she must escape before Cowboy recovered and took hold again. She lunged for the side door, shoved it open and stumbled out. She hit the cement running, sneakers pounding against grimy ground.

The two-story structure looked like an old warehouse or a defunct automotive repair garage. About a hundred yards wide and twice as long, the wide open space appeared to have been abandoned long ago. Rusty metal rafters exposed drooping air ducts and tangled electrical wires. Paint peeled from faded walls. Scents of stale grease competed with musky mold and mildew.

Even if someone discovered her missing, no one would think to look for her here. Heart pounding, Skylar ran faster. But, oddly, no footsteps followed. She dared to glance back. The men had exited the van and now stood—three in a row—watching from a distance.

If they weren’t bothering to chase her…there must be no way out. But there had to be. A building this size would have more than one exit. Skylar slowed her steps, spun in a circle. The cinderblock walls had a few windows, but all were broken. The remaining jagged glass made them too dangerous to pass through. Other than the large automatic door the van had entered through on the front side, three standard doors lined the back wall. She ran toward the one marked emergency exit, pushed against the handle half expecting an alarm to sound, but nothing happened—the door didn’t even budge.

Skylar tried the next door, but a lock kept it in place. She attempted to open the third but to no avail. The men had been prepared. They had her trapped.

Deep, raised voices echoed across the empty space. She turned, flattened her back against the door.

“Bring her to me, Cowboy.” The driver tossed aside his knit cap and raked a hand through his dark brown hair before grabbing Ike’s shirt collar. “You fool. I don’t need complications like these.”

Ike spouted excuses—for what she didn’t care—as Cowboy took long strides in her direction.

Dressed in black, tall and imposing, he intimidated even from a distance as his gaze targeted her.

Skylar spun around, shoved the door’s handle again but only managed to rattle the frame. She placed her damp forehead on the cold door. Lord, help me live…

She took in a breath. Exhaled.

Cowboy’s footsteps grew closer.

Straightening her spine, she faced him. “I won’t go down without a fight.” She lifted her chin as if she could stop him with sheer will.

He halted a few feet away, nodded. “I believe you.” Something sparked in his eyes. Perhaps a glimmer of respect? Did it matter?

Skylar needed to disable him. But, how?

Cowboy pulled his lower lip between his teeth and looked her over as if debating how to handle her. Finally, he held out a hand. “Come with me.”

Her gaze flickered toward the men across the room. “What are they arguing about?”

He kept his hand extended, but crooked his fingers. “Remember what I said. Stay close.”

She shook her head. “Make me.”

His lips quirked for a brief moment. Then he sobered, stepped forward.

Skylar propelled away from the door, lunged toward the left and then dodged to the right. He must have anticipated her move; he caught her before she’d taken three steps. Tossing her over his shoulder, he carried her toward the others.

She huffed out a breath as pain erupted in her stomach, his muscles rock hard beneath her ribcage. She pounded his back, kicked and squirmed. “Put me down.”

Cowboy continued walking, unfazed. She might as well have been pummeling a bulldozer.

She changed tactics. “Please, you’re hurting me.” She added a high-pitched waver to her voice.

He paused and set her down. She stumbled as she gained her bearings. He grasped her arm, steadying her as his gaze swept over her. “It’ll all be over soon.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”