The Missing Millionaire. Dani Sinclair

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СКАЧАТЬ Fire lit the surrounding area as it feasted on the house. Without lights, the small car careened dangerously across the choked lawn and down the rutted path that served as a driveway.

      Harrison reached for his seat belt as he bounced all around. “Slow down. You’re going to wreck.”

      “No.” She swiped the back of her hand across her cheek.

      “I’m sorry. Your friends—”

      “They weren’t. I didn’t even like them. But nobody deserves to die like that.”

      He tried to make sense of her words as she turned the car onto the main road and sped up. “Turn your headlights on. You’re going to kill us.”

      “You don’t get it, do you?”

      Her fingers gripped the steering wheel fiercely. “Those explosions back there were deliberate, Mr. Trent. Tony lied to me.”

      There was anguish in that last.

      “Someone wanted you dead tonight,” she continued.

      “No.”

      She didn’t seem to hear his stark protest.

      “If you hadn’t knocked that syringe aside…If you’d gotten a full dose of the drug, or hadn’t escaped when you did…” She stared at the blackness beyond the windshield, never once looking at him. She drew in a shaky breath. “You were supposed to die in there.”

      Harrison tried to absorb words that made no sense. Nothing that had happened tonight made any sense.

      “We all were.”

      It took him a second to realize she meant they were all supposed to die. “That’s crazy.”

      “I only realized my keys were missing when I went to the bathroom, or I’d have been inside that house along with you. We probably wouldn’t have had time to know what happened.”

      “No one wants to kill me.”

      “Wrong, Mr. Trent.” Bitter acid dripped from every word. “Someone hates you enough to kill anyone in your vicinity.”

      He wanted to tell her she was insane, but the inferno behind them said otherwise. Thinking was hard, but he knew that fire hadn’t been accidental. He’d heard the explosion. More than one. And he’d felt the concussion of the blasts.

      Either a gas main had ruptured, or she was right, someone had deliberately blown up the old farmhouse.

      His brain felt stuffed with cotton and his head throbbed. He was a businessman. He’d made some enemies, sure, but he prided himself on being ethical. How could he have not known he’d made an enemy willing to commit murder? If only he could think clearly.

      “What did you drug me with?”

      Her quick glance was troubled. “It’s supposed to be a compound similar to Rohypnol.”

      “Supposed to be?”

      Her expression was uncomfortable. She faced straight ahead once more. Her hands continued their death grip on the steering wheel.

      “I was told the drug would make you docile and agreeable so we could get you out of the house without an incident.”

      “You stuck me full of a drug and you don’t even know what it is?”

      She shifted as though uncomfortable and didn’t respond.

      Despite the effort it took to keep his rage in check, he strove to keep his voice level. “Why did you kidnap me?”

      “To protect you.”

      Her tone was laced with irony, but there was also anger below the surface. Surprised, he realized she was as furious as he was. “By tying me up in an exploding house?”

      “It wasn’t supposed to explode.”

      “How comforting.”

      “Look, I was asked to guard you until noon. Someone was supposed to explain everything to you then. After that, I was promised that you were going to be set free.”

      “I hope you got that promise in writing, because you should definitely sue.”

      Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

      “Who was coming to see me?”

      “I don’t know.” The sharpness of her tone didn’t disguise a thread of deeper emotion he couldn’t identify.

      “What do you know?”

      “We need to get away from here.” Her eyes wandered between the empty road in front of them and the rearview mirror

      that showed the empty stretch behind them.

      “Are we being followed?”

      “No.”

      Not yet seemed to be implied. He shifted on his seat and stared at the side mirror. There was nothing to see. “Who promised you I was going to be set free?”

      He didn’t think she was going to answer, but after a moment, she did. Pain laced her words. “Someone I trusted.”

      He swallowed a scathing comment. She was angry and afraid, he realized. “Who are you?”

      “My name’s Jamie. And until noon tomorrow, I’m your bodyguard.”

      “I don’t want a bodyguard.”

      “Too bad.”

      Silence filled the car. He studied her stiff posture for several seconds. He thought there was a sheen of moisture in her eyes, but he couldn’t be certain.

      “Why noon?” And a wave of cold spread through his belly as an answer presented itself. “I’m getting married at eleven. Zoe! They’re going after Zoe! Find a pay phone,” he commanded.

      Fear knifed his thoughts. This wasn’t about him. This was about Zoe. She’d been the target of a killer at least twice. Her condo had been ransacked and destroyed. When she refused to move in with him before the wedding, he’d had her move into one of his apartment buildings to protect her. Someone wanted him out of the way so they could strike at her!

      BLINKING BACK furious tears, Jamie glanced at the man. She couldn’t see his features clearly in the darkness of the car, but she could feel the tension that radiated from his still form. He was more alert and competent with every second. Despite the gun strapped to her ankle, she didn’t like the odds if it came down to a struggle. Short of shooting him herself, she wouldn’t win a physical contest.

      “We need a phone,” he repeated angrily.

      “Do you see a telephone anywhere?”

      “He’s going after Zoe.”

      “Who is?”

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