Ransom. Terri Reed

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      “He must have been on my plane,” she said, realizing that if Blake hadn’t detained her, that man might have succeeded in kidnapping her and taking ownership of the necklace.

      “He used an alias,” Blake told her. “We’ll have our people reexamine the flight manifest and see if we can catch him on any of the airport’s video feed.”

      “The other guy must be local and provided him with the gun,” she hypothesized.

      “Yes, that thought crossed my mind,” Blake admitted.

      She sighed. “I’m freaking out that there are two people trying to claim the necklace as theirs.”

      “It does complicate things but don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe.”

      She hoped so. “I appreciate that.”

      Traffic slowed as she approached the Rainbow Bridge where she’d cross the border over the Niagara River. She glanced in her rearview mirror and realized Blake was in the car directly behind her. For some reason that made her feel protected and exposed at the same time.

      She crossed into Canada without incident and continued to follow the navigation system to a tall red brick building.

      “Circle the block,” Blake instructed. “To make sure no one is following.”

      She did as he asked, noting that he’d fallen back by several cars. When she passed the front of the building the second time he said, “We’re clear. Park in the garage and wait in the car for me.”

      She found a parking spot in the corner near the stairs. A few minutes later, Blake drove in and parked two places down.

      He hopped out of his car and walked over to her. She unlocked the doors so he could grab her bag from the backseat. She climbed out and came around to his side.

      “This way.” He led her up the stairwell and into the building’s entryway. Warmth suffused her, chasing away her chill. She shrugged out of her coat and draped it over her arm as she looked around. Immediately she was taken with the marble floors, the art deco decor and the lovely antique pieces scattered around the lobby.

      “What is this place?” she asked.

      “Where the team is staying,” he answered.

      The ding of the elevator car arriving echoed off the polished marble floor and cut her off from asking more questions about her surroundings. The doors slid open. Staring into the box, her throat constricted. The muscles in her shoulders tensed. He laid his hand to the small of her back, urging her to move. His touch was warm through her pink sweater and created tingles on her skin, distracting her enough to enter the elevator car. She plastered herself against the wall and gripped the handrail as Blake entered, dragging her suitcase behind him. He was a good head taller than she and so attractive he stole her breath.

      The doors slid shut, trapping her inside the small car with Blake. He took up too much of the oxygen. A light-headed sensation had her bracing a hand on the gleaming metal wall. He gave her a curious glance but made no remark.

      She chalked her dizziness up to a bout of claustrophobia or lack of food. Either could be the culprit, certainly not because of the good-looking agent.

      They got out on the eleventh floor, and he led her to a door at the end of the hall which he unlocked and pushed open. “Inside, please.”

      Curious, she entered, thankful for the soft yellow glow from a table lamp. The large living room held two brown leather sofas and a love seat, a glass coffee table, a marble fireplace, plus a plush rug that cushioned every step. She laid her coat over the arm of a high-back chair pushed up to a nice-sized dining table. Off to the right was a kitchen. Without the lights on, she couldn’t make out more than the shapes of the appliances, but would hazard a guess it was all state-of-the-art.

      Blake walked past her and down a short hall. “This will be your room.”

      She followed him into a well-appointed bedroom with crisp white linens, a marble fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows that during the day would offer stunning views.

      The room faced the falls. Though it was too dark to see the water, she could make out the slight hum of the rapids. There was a thin television mounted on the wall over a desk. The bath was equally impressive. Oversized with marble accoutrements and gold fixtures. Bright white plush towels hung on warming racks and a thick white robe waited on a hanger on the back of the door.

      As much as Liz appreciated the luxury of the condo, she’d rather be home with her sister, both of them safe and content to be on Hilton Head Island.

      “I shouldn’t be here,” she said. Guilt ate at her. She was in this beautiful place, protected and safe, while who knew what kind of conditions Jillian was suffering. “I should be at the hotel where Jillian last was. Maybe there’s a clue or something that will tell us what happened to her.”

      In two long strides Blake was in front her, towering over her, yet she didn’t cower. His posture was unthreatening, almost tender. His big hands engulfed her much smaller ones. His touch was comforting and disconcerting all at once. She saw the shadow of fatigue under his eyes and the stubble darkening his strong jaw. He still had his coat buttoned to the top and looked as if he’d stepped from the pages of a magazine rather than being an agent for the federal government.

      She should pull her hands away, the rational part of her brain warned, but she didn’t. Couldn’t. For the moment, she accepted his offer of strength.

      “Listen to me, Liz, you’re going to need to be alert and one hundred percent ready for tomorrow. That means rest for the remainder of the night.”

      Easy for him to say. “I don’t know if I can rest.”

      “You need to try.” He rubbed her hands gently. “We have people staking out the hotel. If your sister returns, they’ll let me know.”

      Her stomach cramped with hunger. “Would it be possible to get a piece of toast and a glass of water?”

      “Of course. I’m sorry, I should have offered the moment we arrived.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not used to playing host.”

      She tracked his fingers, wondering if the dark strands would be coarse or soft against her own skin. Forcing her attention away from his hair, she said, “It’s okay. You’ve a lot on your mind.”

      “This way.” He gestured for her to follow him.

      He unbuttoned his coat as they went, then shrugged out of it and laid it on the back of the couch. The suit he wore looked to be perfectly made for his physique. The navy material draped on his frame in a custom fit that emphasized the width of his shoulders, his trim waist and long muscular legs.

      “When did you last eat?”

      It took a moment for his words to process. She had to drag her mind away from admiring him. “This morning,” she admitted.

      He turned the kitchen light on. She was right. Gleaming, state-of-the-art, appliances and granite countertops. She traced her hand over the cool surface. Her apartment counters were old white tile blocks that needed regrouting.

      Blake СКАЧАТЬ