of my precious time away from my business.” A feral, angry Manco Garcia began to replace the suave man who had entered her motel room. Before her was the man who could whip his soldiers into a frenzy of murder and looting.
She hated this push-pull attraction she had for him. His dark side drew her while at the same time it frightened her. Right now she was frightened because she’d seen his wrath, saw what he could do to strong, brave men and had no doubt what he could do to a defenseless woman relying on his goodwill.
A goodwill that was slowly unraveling.
“We’ll find your money, I swear.”
His lips twisted in a sneer and he let loose a string of Spanish. Her fear rose another notch as his gaze locked with hers, hot and wild with anger. “Listen to me, Seńora Carmichael. You think your prison cell with your running water and three warm meals a day was punishment?” He stood. He wasn’t tall compared to American men, but he didn’t need height to intimidate. “It is nada compared to what awaits you in my country. And do not think you can escape my punishment.”
His gaze slid up her body, finally landing on the breasts she’d tried to distract him with earlier. A light came into his eyes and instead of the tight tug of desire she’d felt before, she shivered in dread.
“I have a very…specific punishment for you, Susanita.” He leaned forward and brushed a knuckle over her cheek, then chuckled when she trembled. “You don’t like my plan?” He waited until she shook her head. “Then pray Hope Stewart leads us to the money.” He turned on his heel and slammed out of the motel room, jarring the plate-glass window next to the door.
Riveted to her seat, Suzanne stared at the closed door. For the thousandth time in four days, she cursed her decision to contact Manco Garcia even while she understood the desperation that had driven her to it. For two years, she’d sat behind those bars, dressed in baggy, gray prison clothes, obsessing over the money she and her late husband, Bradley, had secreted in overseas accounts. For two years, she’d devised and discarded plan after plan to escape, retrieve her money and disappear.
Bradley’s unexpected death had caused a wrinkle in her plan. At least that’s what she’d thought at the time. Now she was beginning to see it as a hurdle she may not be able to jump. Damn her husband for turning all the paperwork over to Charles Stewart and for giving him the key to all that money.
She mentally consigned Hope to hell for putting her in this position. The murder of Charles should have gone smoothly, especially with Manco’s best men on the scene, but Hope had walked in, had seen the body, and Tomás and Ricardo had been forced to run before they could discover where Stewart had hidden her money.
Now Suzanne had no way to pay Garcia for her freedom and it seemed her time was running out. She’d escaped prison, but escaping Garcia’s clutches was another thing entirely.
***
It took all of John’s concentration to get them off the mountain in the nearly two feet of snow that had fallen over the past three days. Even so, he was acutely aware of the woman next to him. She’d changed back into her jeans and oversized sweater. Had twisted her hair into a braid that fell halfway down her back, which she liked to pull over her shoulder and play with the end of. She looked fresh and young.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, not from the icy road conditions but from the emotions inside him. Had he known coming out of his shell would be this painful, he would have braved the storm days ago and dropped her off at the police station for Mercer or one of the other guys to deal with. Just his dumb luck he’d finally found a woman to pull him out of himself and she was pregnant, possibly married, with no memory and a killer on her tail.
He merged onto the interstate and picked up speed. Out here, the salt trucks had done their work, and the blizzard hadn’t
She hated this push-pull attraction she had for him. His dark side drew her while at the same time it frightened her. Right now she was frightened because she’d seen his wrath, saw what he could do to strong, brave men and had no doubt what he could do to a defenseless woman relying on his goodwill.
A goodwill that was slowly unraveling.
“We’ll find your money, I swear.”
His lips twisted in a sneer and he let loose a string of Spanish. Her fear rose another notch as his gaze locked with hers, hot and wild with anger. “Listen to me, Seńora Carmichael. You think your prison cell with your running water and three warm meals a day was punishment?” He stood. He wasn’t tall compared to American men, but he didn’t need height to intimidate. “It is nada compared to what awaits you in my country. And do not think you can escape my punishment.”
His gaze slid up her body, finally landing on the breasts she’d tried to distract him with earlier. A light came into his eyes and instead of the tight tug of desire she’d felt before, she shivered in dread.
“I have a very…specific punishment for you, Susanita.” He leaned forward and brushed a knuckle over her cheek, then chuckled when she trembled. “You don’t like my plan?” He waited until she shook her head. “Then pray Hope Stewart leads us to the money.” He turned on his heel and slammed out of the motel room, jarring the plate-glass window next to the door.
Riveted to her seat, Suzanne stared at the closed door. For the thousandth time in four days, she cursed her decision to contact Manco Garcia even while she understood the desperation that had driven her to it. For two years, she’d sat behind those bars, dressed in baggy, gray prison clothes, obsessing over the money she and her late husband, Bradley, had secreted in overseas accounts. For two years, she’d devised and discarded plan after plan to escape, retrieve her money and disappear.
Bradley’s unexpected death had caused a wrinkle in her plan. At least that’s what she’d thought at the time. Now she was beginning to see it as a hurdle she may not be able to jump. Damn her husband for turning all the paperwork over to Charles Stewart and for giving him the key to all that money.
She mentally consigned Hope to hell for putting her in this position. The murder of Charles should have gone smoothly, especially with Manco’s best men on the scene, but Hope had walked in, had seen the body, and Tomás and Ricardo had been forced to run before they could discover where Stewart had hidden her money.
Now Suzanne had no way to pay Garcia for her freedom and it seemed her time was running out. She’d escaped prison, but escaping Garcia’s clutches was another thing entirely.
***
It took all of John’s concentration to get them off the mountain in the nearly two feet of snow that had fallen over the past three days. Even so, he was acutely aware of the woman next to him. She’d changed back into her jeans and oversized sweater. Had twisted her hair into a braid that fell halfway down her back, which she liked to pull over her shoulder and play with the end of. She looked fresh and young.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, not from the icy road conditions but from the emotions inside him. Had he known coming out of his shell would be this painful, he would have braved the storm days ago and dropped her off at the police station for Mercer or one of the other guys to deal with. Just his dumb luck he’d finally found a woman to pull him out of himself and she was pregnant, possibly married, with no memory and a killer on her tail.
He merged onto the interstate and picked up speed. Out here, the salt trucks had done their work, and the blizzard hadn’t
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