“I could ask you the same thing.” She watched his expression for any sign of what was going on in his head. Her backpack was in the passenger seat, but it was too far away for her to reach it before he blew a hole in her.
“Close the door.”
She obeyed, taking in his size and weight. How strong was he? Pulling the rope, she brought the metal door down slowly. If she waited until it was almost closed, she could roll underneath it. There was a spare key outside in her Bronco.
“Don’t get any ideas.” In two steps he was on her. He clamped his hand on her shoulder, but his fingers didn’t bite into her flesh. The physical contact jolted her; she froze under his touch. Guys like this got off on the fear they could generate. She wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction, or the advantage.
The door touched down on the concrete floor. She had to get to her backpack, somehow.
She turned toward him, determination in her veins.
“Again. Who are you and why did you boost this car?” His voice was low, demanding and cut with an edge of irritation.
“I didn’t steal it. I repossessed it.” If her answer erased doubt, it didn’t register in his sharp green eyes, eyes that seemed to probe into her soul.
“Wouldn’t it be better to do it in daylight with a police escort?”
His solution intrigued her, even while the gun he aimed at her made her wonder about his status. Law-abiding citizen or desperate criminal?
“I obtain hard-to-recover assets. Not everyone willingly lets you take their ride.”
His expression hardened, his eyes narrowed. “Have you got a lock for the door?”
Fear raked across her nerves. “Maybe.”
“Maybe isn’t good enough.”
This was her chance. Kate took a step back. The padlock was in her backpack. “It’s in the front seat. I’ll get it.” Move. She crossed in front of him.
He turned as she passed by and she was aware of him next to her as she opened the door and pulled her backpack out by one strap. She grasped the zipper. If she only opened it partway, she could put her hand in and rummage around. He’d never see his demise coming.
“I’ll take that.”
Before she could protest, he pulled her lifeline away. She swallowed her disappointment. Was this guy a mind reader?
“Head for the table.” He motioned to the card table she used for her paperwork. It was pushed into the corner at the front of the garage. She took hesitant steps toward it. He followed close behind. So close she could feel his heat, feel the arc of his strength connect to her body and drive fear into her soul.
Dressed in black from head to toe. Leather jacket. Early thirties. Clean shaven. Blond. Six-one. Green eyes, yes his eyes were green. She stored the details in her mind for the day the cops caught him. That was, if she lived.
A knot tied her stomach as she thought of her son. She had to make it…for his sake. She stopped at the table, wincing as he slid the zipper on her backpack and dumped it out with a couple of shakes. Her gaze locked on the Taser gun as it fell out with the rest of her worldly goods. An innocent object disguised as a tissue holder.
Attack. She dove for the weapon. Desperation choked her mind and made her movements erratic. She missed her mark and he threw an arm around her waist.
Kate fought to get away, but he was too strong. She ended her struggle, aware of the feel of his hard chest against her back and the sensation of being superheated against him.
“Who are you lady, MacGyver?” He laid his gun on the table, snagged the padlock and carried her to the door.
“I’ll warn you once.” His breath was warm against her ear, his voice soft, but deadly. He set her down, turned her and pointed his finger in her face an inch from her nose. “If you move, I’ll tie you up.”
He opened the lock and put it into the clasp on the door.
Kate kept still, watched him snap the lock shut and deposit the key in his left front pants pocket. She had to have the key.
Mick felt better with the lock in place. The woman beside him was trouble and too unpredictable to take his eyes off. He could see her thinking every second. Planning her escape. The challenge sent a surge of excitement through his veins. It didn’t bother him that she was the sweetest piece of eye candy he’d seen in an eon, but so far he hadn’t been able to get any information out of her that made sense.
The intensity of the burn in his side flared again. He didn’t know how long he had until his shrapnel wound sent him to la-la land. If he lost it now, she’d be gone along with the Beamer, his only link to Otis Whittley.
“Where did you get this car?”
Her eyes were a rich shade of coffee-brown and sparkled with defiance. She glared at him and raised her chin.
Mick knew the make-me gesture. He hadn’t busted a single punk who hadn’t flashed him the same challenge. But she didn’t look the part.
Clean Levi’s hugged her slim hips and brushed the tops of black running shoes. A black sweatshirt was tied around her narrow waist and a tank top with TULANE printed on it stretched across well-rounded breasts. Shiny hair the color of mahogany was parted on the side and splayed well below her shoulders. He put her height at five-six or so. She looked delicate standing in front of him, but he’d felt the repressed strength in her curvaceous body for himself.
He swallowed and tried to focus his wayward thoughts. “I haven’t got all night.”
“It’s the property of Dallas S & L. I’m supposed to deliver it to them on Friday.”
“You don’t understand.” He stepped toward her, his patience brittle. “This car stays put until you tell me who you are and what you really want with a fifty-thousand-dollar ride.”
“I told you. I repossessed it.”
“Yeah, and I’m the tooth fairy.” He was getting nowhere with her and he didn’t have time to mess around.
“Look, lady, I’m not going to shoot you.” He raised his hands, feigning peace. “I need information. If you hadn’t taken the car, I’d have it.” Otis was probably miles away by now.
“Come on.” He grabbed her elbow, steered her around the car and back to the table. If she wouldn’t tell him who she was, then he’d find out for himself.
He shuffled through the contents of her backpack, a virtual smorgasbord of paraphernalia fit to rescue a spy from any situation. Rope, a Swiss Army knife, first aid kit, cell phone, even a cache of tissues to blow her perfectly shaped nose. He’d never seen anyone so prepared. But she wasn’t going to be prepared for him, if she didn’t take him where he needed to go.
His gaze settled on her wallet. He grabbed it, popped the clasp and flipped it open to her driver’s licence.
Kate Robear, 415 Murray, New Orleans. Hatred exploded in his chest, burning him like a red-hot poker. He sized up the woman in front of him while the knowledge ricocheted deep into his brain.
He had a Robear? The family resemblance was indisputable. Dark hair, fair skin, expressive eyes socketed innocently in a beautiful face. For an instant he wanted to make her suffer as he’d suffered, but he sucked it up and tossed her wallet onto the table.
Kate studied the slight tic along his jawline, the faraway flicker in his eyes, and waited for the moment she could reach for the Taser.
“Robear. I might have known, no junk for a Robear.”
His words knifed into her mind. There was contempt in his voice. His body stiffened and revulsion flared in his eyes.
What did he know about her family?
As