Название: Romancing the Crown: Max & Elena: The Disenchanted Duke
Автор: Marie Ferrarella
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы
isbn: 9781408905999
isbn:
Max looked contemptuously at the man on the floor. If the man’s real name was Weber, then he was the Easter Bunny.
“Besides, with this one, it wouldn’t hurt to have two sets of eyes watching him. He looks like the kind who’ll slit your throat if you let your guard down even for a minute.”
Cara took a deep breath. He was right. On several counts. But she still didn’t feel easy about the arrangement. And she questioned his reasons.
“Why would you do anything for me?” she wanted to know.
“Not for you,” Max said honestly, “but for a fellow human being. I hate to see a life wasted.” And after looking into Weber’s eyes, there was no doubt in his mind that the man could kill as easily as he could breathe, with no compunction whatsoever. “Besides, maybe I can talk some sense into your sheriff and get Weber released to me—since you won’t listen to reason.”
“Once Weber is behind bars and I get my ten thousand, I don’t care if you go dancing with the sheriff—or Weber,” she added.
Cara chewed on her lower lip, debating. What Ryker said made sense she supposed. But if the tables were turned and she talked him into letting her come along, she knew she’d try to get Weber away the first moment the opportunity presented itself. It didn’t matter that she was beginning to be really attracted to the guy. Another time and another place, if things were different… But they weren’t. The bottom line was that, handsome or not, Max was the competition, if not the enemy. She was going to have to be on her toes.
“Okay, Ryker, you can come along. But just as long as we’re clear on one fact: You try to take him from me and I will shoot you.”
He lowered his eyes to her weapon, then raised them again to hers.
“I never doubted it for a second.” Passing Cara, he reached over and grabbed Weber by the arm, dragging him up. The gun in his other hand was a silent warning to the man not to try anything. “On your feet, scum.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cara cross to the phone and pick it up. “Who are you calling?”
She held up her hand for him to be quiet as she heard someone on the other end pick up.
“Front desk? Room 618 is checking out. Quickly. Just put the tab on his credit card.” Hanging up, she saw the questioning look on Max’s face. “I hate loose ends. Why not let them know that he wasn’t going to be here? Someone else can use this room.” And then she grinned. “Aren’t credit cards wonderful?”
She knew that Ryker had to have tracked Weber here the same way she had, by the man’s unwitting use of his credit card. Pausing to raise her skirt, she holstered her weapon, not unaware that Ryker was watching her every move and that there was an appreciative look in his eyes.
She had to admit that, in part, she was playing up to it.
Lowering her leg, she adjusted her skirt, allowing it to fall back into place. There was an amused smile on her face.
“Careful, Ryker, or your eyes are going to fall out of your head.”
It was beyond him how she could move so fluidly under the circumstances. He couldn’t picture moving around with a gun between his legs.
“Doesn’t it chafe that way?”
The question almost made her laugh. “Let me worry about that.”
To his surprise, she took out her key and unlocked one of the handcuffs on Weber’s wrist.
Had she changed her mind about leaving? “What are you doing?”
As Max watched, she snapped the cuff on her own wrist. “Making sure that Weber doesn’t go anywhere without me.” She looked at Max innocently. “Ready? Let’s go.”
Before he could say anything, she passed him and went out the door, pushing Weber out before her.
They made an unsettling trio walking through the lobby, the woman in white handcuffed to the thin, well-dressed man in gray, with the tall, dark, solemn-faced man flanking him on the other side. They garnered more than their share of stares as they made their way to the front entrance.
Bypassing the revolving door, they took the regular one, going through it single file. The man in the gray suit was between them.
Once outside the entrance, Cara produced a ticket from her purse and handed it to Max.
“What’s this?”
“Your car, or it will be once the valet drives it up.” She shifted slightly, wishing she had on something other than a clingy dress with layers of material adhering to her. The day promised to be a scorcher and traveling on the road was going to be no picnic. Ryker was probably the type who made you roll down your windows instead of using the air conditioning.
He looked at the ticket incredulously. “You put a stolen car in valet parking.”
“Borrowed,” she corrected. “I placed a borrowed car in valet parking.” She smiled, as if it was a no-brainer. “Made it easier that way.”
It was also safely out of the way rather than in plain sight the way it wouldn’t have been if she’d parked it on one of the adjacent streets.
“Borrowed,” Max repeated, shaking his head. The woman was in a class by herself. “And just when did you intend on returning the ‘borrowed’ car?”
Also simple. “After I brought my man in.”
“Where would you know where to find me?” he pressed, wanting to see how far she would carry the charade out. He thought she was just making this up as she went along. But to his surprise, she rattled off his address. “How did you—?”
She looked at him as if he had suddenly turned simple-minded. “The registration is in the glove compartment,” she reminded him. Cara pointed to the uniformed man hurrying toward them. Dressed in green livery complete with a hat, the valet looked as if he was barely out of high school. “Give the ticket to the nice man and we’ll be on our way.”
Coming to a halt before them, the valet seemed to immediately hone on the steel bracelet linking Cara and Salim together. His eyes grew large.
“Are those handcuffs?” he asked in almost hushed reverence.
“Magic trick gone bad,” Cara told him matter-of-factly.
“We’ve got a hacksaw around here somewhere,” the valet offered, his eyes bobbing up and down like tiny black bouncing balls from her face to her cleavage.
Because the attention the valet tendered was so awkward and fumbling, Cara found it almost sweet. She smiled at him and could have sworn that he blushed in response.
“Don’t worry yourself about it. It’s under control.” She slanted a look toward Max. “Give him the ticket, Ryker.”
“I am being taken prisoner against my will,” Weber suddenly yelled, pushing himself forward.
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