Secret Defender

“Okay, just a few highlights. In the back.”

Julie grinned and separated a strip of Sydney’s bangs.

Sydney sighed.

“Who’s the professional here? Just sit back and tell me about that hunky brother of yours.”

Sydney couldn’t help but smile. After blossoming at sixteen, Julie had always gotten any guy she wanted, and she did it with such relish. “Tell you what. Come over for dinner Saturday night and see for yourself.”

Julie lifted a brow but kept working, inserting the piece of foil under the strands she separated. “So he’s living at the house. I take it he finally has old Willy’s stamp of approval.”

“You can’t blame Willard for checking him out. It was a little odd that Rick showed up after my dad’s death, claiming to be his illegitimate son.”

Julie wrinkled her nose. “It was kind of creepy.”

“Not creepy, just strange. Kind of convenient, with Dad not here to deny the claim, you know?” Sydney shrugged, her gaze glued to Julie’s busy hands. “But somehow I knew Rick would check out. I’m glad, too.”

“You always did have great instincts about people. What about this Jeff guy you’ve been seeing? When do I meet him?”

Sydney groaned. “You’re starting to sound like Willard. I’ll make sure they’re both there on Saturday.”

“Will Willy be there, too?”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Sit still before you make me spill this stuff.” Julie gave her hair a small yank. “He really doesn’t like me. Never has, and after I started working here, he had me checked out, too.”

Sydney gasped. “I don’t believe that.”

“Sit still, dammit.”

“Ouch! Quit yanking so hard.”

“Then stop moving.”

Sydney twisted around in the chair to look Julie in the eyes. “Why do you think he had you checked out?”

A sly smile curved her ruby-tinted lips. “Because I screwed the detective he hired.”

Sydney blinked. “You’re making this up.”

Julie put her hands on either side of Sydney’s head and forced her to face the mirror again. “I am not. Ask Willard. But, God, don’t tell him I slept with the guy or he’ll hire someone else and I’ll have to go through it all over again.”

Sydney stared at her reflection in simmering silence. Willard had always been overprotective, but spying on her friends pushed the limit of Sydney’s patience. She ought to pack up and move to New York. Out of his sight. Away from the Wainwright name.

“I shouldn’t have told you.” Julie stopped fussing with the foil squares and gave her a thoughtful frown. “Don’t blame Willard. It really is a pretty big coincidence that I’d show up in a salon you used after all these years. Don’t you think?”

Syd quickly averted her gaze.

Julie snorted. “It’s okay. I’d be suspicious, too.”

“I’m not suspicious.” She wasn’t. “But I did wonder if you knew I’d been coming here…”

Julie shook her head. “Nope. I knew Divas had an up-scale clientele with prices to match, which meant I could make some serious dough.” She set aside the bowl and brush. “One thing I did learn from old McKenzie was how to appreciate the finer things in life. Paying for them is something else.”

Sydney was startled to hear her mention her former stepfather. Even before the divorce, speaking his name was taboo. Julie’s hatred for him had exploded so quickly that Syd had wondered if something more had been going on than Julie had revealed.

“Hey, want me to add some purple tint?” Julie asked, and Syd made a move to get out of the chair. “Only kidding. Sit still and I’ll have you out of here in under two hours.”

Sydney smiled, glad Julie had come back into her life. She needed someone quirky to offset the staidness that accompanied the Wainwright name. Someone comfortable enough to point out Syd had mousy brown hair.

They chatted nonstop for the next two hours, Syd begging unsuccessfully to face the mirror while Julie blew her hair dry.

Sydney was actually starting to get a little nervous when Julie finally said, “Voila, check out this masterpiece.”

She twirled the chair so that Sydney faced her reflection. Her hand automatically flew to her hair. “You cut it different.”

“Did I?” Julie grinned. “Faboo, isn’t it?”

Sydney stared at the unfamiliar image. Golden highlights framed her face, making her complexion look brighter. The style was artfully tousled, kind of fringed and shaggy on the side instead of her usual blunt bob. “Wow! Is that me?”

“You like?”

“I think so.”

Julie issued a sound of disgust. “It’s terrific. You’ll turn every head from here to your office.”

Right. Sydney turned from side to side, and then used the hand mirror Julie gave her. “I do look pretty sophisticated.” She leaned toward the mirror for a closer look. “You did good.”

“Yes, I did.” Julie pulled the cape off Syd. “Now, get out of my chair. I have another client and your ride is waiting.”

“My ride?” She slid off the chair and grabbed her purse.

“I had the receptionist call you a car so you wouldn’t have to take a cab.”

“And if I wanted to take a cab?”

“Tough. That’s one of those fou-fou things they do around here that makes a friggin’ haircut cost three times what it should.”

Sydney laughed and pressed some bills into Julie’s hand. Thankfully, she didn’t argue about the tip like she had the past two times. “See you for dinner on Saturday, huh?” Sydney said as she took one last look at her reflection.

“Sure.” Julie’s half shrug was noncommittal.

“I’ll make sure Willard isn’t there.”

“You look terrific. Now, get out of here.”

Julie’s next client approached, and Sydney stepped aside. She wanted to encourage Julie to come to dinner but it would be too awkward. Instead, she left to pay her bill.

A black Lincoln Town Car with tinted windows was waiting just outside the door and she quickly got in without getting her hair too mussed up. “I’m going to the Wainwright building on—”

“I know where it is.” The driver’s voice was deep and raspy and sent an odd shiver down Sydney’s spine.

She sank back against the seat and stared at the back of his dark head. He barely cleared the top of the car, which meant he had to be pretty tall. The usual white cotton shirt most drivers wore stretched across his broad shoulders. His hair was long, a little too long, enough to make a ponytail, she guessed. Not that it mattered but…

“Excuse me.” She snapped out of her daydreaming and squinted out the window. They were on the freeway. “You’re going the wrong way.”

“No, we’re not,” he said in that deep husky voice.

And then she heard the definitive click of all four locks engaging.

Chapter Two

Fear tightened Sydney’s chest. Bile rose in her throat. She stared at his large tanned hand gripping the wheel. “You’re going the wrong way,” she said again, her voice sounding pathetically, maddeningly weak.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. They were icy blue. “As long as you cooperate.”

“What do you want?”

“Just your cooperation.”

“I have money…cash in my purse, and credit cards.” She fumbled with the stubborn catch on her pocketbook. “You can have them all.” Her frantic gaze flew to the window. They were already passing the city limits. “Just leave me here on the side of the road.”

His laugh was humorless, dark. “Sweetheart, some things money can’t buy.”

Nausea rolled in her stomach, but she tried to stay focused. There was a narrow space between the pair of tinted glass dividers separating them. If she could wedge her hand between them…

Her purse clasp finally gave, startling her. A tube of lipstick and a roll of breath mints spilled out. She reached in for her wallet, hoping she could still tempt him with cash. That’s when she felt it.

The barrel of the small gun Rick had bought her.

She’d argued with him at the time. She’d always been opposed to carrying a weapon of any kind, but she’d finally given in to placate him.

The pistol was in a separate pocket and she slowly disengaged the zipper. With her other hand, she fisted a wad of bills, and then held the cash up for his view.

“Look,” she said, hoping he’d reconsider. If not, it was still a good distraction. “There’s about five hundred dollars here.”

His eyes again met hers in the mirror. The corners crinkled. “I already have you and the money.”

She finally worked the gun free, dropped the money and pointed the pistol with both shaky hands at his head. “But I have this.”

A brief look of surprise entered his eyes. He said nothing but swerved the car off the freeway onto the shoulder. He didn’t stop, but drove through the tall grass toward a dense patch of trees and shrubs.

Two cars flew by them down the freeway. They didn’t look as though they planned to stop. Fear clogged her throat and she had to swallow hard in order to speak. “Stop right now or I swear I’ll shoot.”

He drove another ten yards and parked the car in the middle of a grove of oak trees, which effectively concealed them from other motorists.

He threw open his door and got out, and then opened hers. Without a word, he reached in and grabbed one of her wrists and dragged her out. Startled, she almost dropped the gun.

But she managed to hold on to it and as soon as her feet were planted in the grass, she aimed the barrel at him. “I mean it.”

“Or what?” One side of his mouth lifted in a cocky grin. His chin and jaw were dark with stubble, his long hair unruly, his amused blue eyes boring into her. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned.

“Or I’ll shoot that smug smile off your face.” Hell, she should have said goddamn smile. Julie would have. It sounded more forceful.

He didn’t so much as flinch. He just stared at her, until his gaze dropped to her chest. It stayed there a long time before he lazily let it roam her waist, her hips…the juncture of her thighs.

“I mean it.” She swallowed. “You dumb son of a bitch.”

His gaze shot up to her face, and before she knew what happened, he yanked the gun out of her hand.

“If you wanna shoot someone, sweetheart, you’d better release the safety first.” He inspected the pistol. “Bullets would help, too.”

He reached behind and stuck the gun in the back pocket of his jeans. From his other pocket, he produced a pair of handcuffs.

“Oh, no.” She took a step back. “Please don’t.”

He didn’t even bother to stop her. He had on cowboy boots. She had on heels. He knew she wouldn’t get far.

“It was your choice.” He slowly unfastened the cuffs, as if he were deliberately trying to torture her.

Even though she knew it was useless, she took another step back. “Just tell me what you want. We can work something out.”

He smiled and advanced. “Come on, Sydney, a bright girl like you can figure it out.”

He’d used her name.

She stood frozen, numb with fear, the slim hope that this was a random mugging shriveling inside her. Her knees weakened and her legs started to wobble.

The man stopped directly in front of her, inches away, his breath scented with the sweet surreal smell of butterscotch. Something odd flickered in his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her. She started to struggle, but he held her to his chest. Belying his cool exterior, his heart pounded against her ear.

“Settle down. I’m just trying to keep you from ending up in a heap,” he said, and loosened his hold when she pulled back.

She lifted her chin and willed her legs to stop shaking. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” He reached around her and caught her wrists.

Her breasts crushed against his hard chest. “Oh, please don’t cuff them behind my back. You know I can’t get away.”

He stared down at her, his gaze wary and measuring. He was taller than she first thought…at least six-two because she was five-five and he towered over her.

“Okay.” He released her wrists and stepped back.

“Thank you.” Her voice had come out barely above a whisper. She pushed her hair back and was about to smooth her skirt when he grabbed her hands again. “What are you doing?”

He slapped the cuffs around one wrist and then the other. “I’m not going to leave you free to bushwhack me.”

“But I—”

He put the rough pad of his thumb against her lips. “One more word and I cuff those pretty little hands of yours behind your back.”

She swallowed and remained silent.

His gaze stayed on her face as he dragged his thumb across the seam of her lips before lowering it. “Get back in the car.”

She hesitated, wanting to ask where they were going and who he represented, but the warning gleam in his eyes stopped her cold. Instead, she went back to the car and climbed into the backseat. When her skirt rode up high on her thigh, his blatant gaze followed the hem until she tugged it down.

A mocking smile curved his mouth. “Don’t worry, Sydney, your virtue isn’t what I’m after.”

“What is it? What do you want?”

“For you to keep your mouth shut.” He grabbed her purse, then slammed the door and got back behind the wheel.

Sydney’s angry glare seared the back of his head. It didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. He steered them back toward the highway, eyed her in the mirror while he waited for a group of cars to pass, and then eased in behind a truck.

She thought about trying to flag someone down, but the windows were heavily tinted and she figured she’d just end up ticking him off. She could only hope he wasn’t stupid enough to harm her. If a ransom was what he was after, he’d have to keep her alive. At least for a while.

She shuddered at the thought of what could happen once he got the money. Oh, God, she didn’t want to die. She wanted to get married, have children, her own home. She wanted to go to a PTA meeting. Hell, she couldn’t die without ever having had great sex.

Forcing herself to calm down, she took several deep breaths. She had to clear her head. Negative thinking wasn’t going to help her find a means of escape.

From the self-defense course she’d taken, she recalled the instructor advising the class to humanize the situation. Force the attacker to view you as a human being and not an object. It was worth a shot.

She cleared her throat. “What’s your name?”

His eyes appeared in the rear view mirror. “Why?”

“I’ve got to call you something.”

“I’m sure you’ve come up with several names by now.”

“At least.”

Again, the skin around his eyes crinkled. So, he had a sense of humor. “Luke.”

“Short for Lucas?”

“No.”

Sydney sank back, thinking of what else she should ask or say. She wasn’t going to get anywhere fast if he kept giving her single word answers. “Can you tell me who you work for?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so,” she muttered. “How about where we’re going?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Personal. She needed to get personal so he’d see her as a person. “How old are you?”

In the rearview mirror, she saw his dark brows draw together. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I was just curious. I’ll be twenty-five next month. It’s kind of a milestone, don’t you think?”

He shook his head and stared at the road.

Let him think she was a nut. At least he’d be thinking of her as a person. “My godfather is planning this big party he doesn’t think I know about. I hate those things. I’m seriously thinking about escaping to San Francisco or New York for the weekend. Knowing that crowd, they won’t even miss me.”

He darted a glance at her and then returned his attention to the road as he veered off an exit ramp. Unfamiliar with the area, she squinted to see where they were going, but it was too late. She’d missed the name of the exit.

Dammit. She should be paying attention. If she had the opportunity to use a phone, she’d have to be able to give information. She looked out helplessly as the landscape became more and more dense with trees. Not a single car had passed since they left the freeway.

“Are you from Dallas?” she asked, annoyed that her teeth chattered. “You have a little bit of an accent.”

The warning look he gave her with those steely blue eyes made her pause. Okay, maybe that was too personal. Obviously, he wouldn’t give her that kind of information about himself. “How much ransom are you going to ask for?”

The car jerked when he pulled it over to the shoulder. Unprepared, she fell roughly against the door. There’d be one heck of a bruise on her arm.

He got out before she righted herself, opened the door and leaned in, bringing his face close to hers. He gripped her upper arm and yanked her even closer. “Do I have to gag you?”

She had to tilt her head back to avoid smashing her nose into his chin. His breath, warm and sweet-smelling, trespassed on her skin. She swallowed and shook her head.

His eyes bore into hers. “I didn’t hear you.”

She swallowed again. “No.”

His grip on her arm loosened and he rubbed his thumb idly just beneath her sleeve hem. Irritation simmered in his eyes, and then he abruptly let her go. “Keep your mouth shut. Got it?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He drew back, and then hesitated. He leaned in again and she jumped. “Look,” he said, keeping a little more distance this time, his husky voice soft, soothing. “You’re not going to get hurt. Just keep quiet.”

She nodded again, hating the fear that clawed at her, robbing her of speech and rational thought. Never would she have guessed she’d react this way. All the times Willard had warned her of something like this happening, she’d balked, telling herself exactly how she’d handle the situation. Reality was nothing like her best intentions.

Relief eased her when he finally turned to get back behind the wheel, except he reached in for something and returned.

She tried not to cower and sat perfectly still.

“Here.” He held out a bottle of Evian.

She stared at it a moment before lifting her bound hands to take it. “Thank you.”

It was obvious she wouldn’t be able to unscrew the cap, but she wouldn’t ask him to do it. She just wanted him to get back in the front seat, away from her.

He grunted something that sounded like a curse and grabbed the water. After he freed the cap, he passed the bottle back to her. “We’ll be at the cabin soon.”

Cabin? She stared off into the woods, all hope of attracting someone’s attention fading as quickly as the late afternoon sun.

He got back in and started to drive, his attention to the speed limit somewhat lax. Half the water she tried to drink missed her mouth and ended up down the front of her favorite peach silk blouse. No doubt it was ruined. But of course, that was the least of her worries.

She tried to pay attention to her surroundings, but it didn’t help. Nothing but woods stretched in every direction. She didn’t have a clue where they were. She glanced at her watch. They were already almost an hour outside of Dallas.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled off onto a dirt road with enough dips and ruts to make her stomach roll. She swallowed hard against the nausea, and then took another sip of water. When a cabin appeared in a small clearing, she didn’t know if she were more relieved or nervous.

He stopped the car a few feet from the tiny front porch, got out and opened her door. “I wouldn’t bother screaming. There’s no one around for miles.”

She hesitated, sweeping a gaze around the shabby condition of the property. Half the first step up to the porch had rotted away, and a couple of floorboards were missing near the faded orange lawn chair sitting by the door.

“Sorry the accommodations don’t suit you.” He held out his hand to help her out. “But you’ll be comfortable enough inside.”

His mocking tone made her straighten, and she scooted across the seat to get out…without his help. Except her skirt slid up her thigh, giving him quite an eyeful.

He wasn’t shy about taking it, either. His gaze wrapped around her legs before she was able to tug the hem back down. When he realized that she didn’t want his help, he stepped aside and folded his arms across his chest.

Muscle corded and stretched up his exposed forearms to where he’d turned back his shirtsleeves. Right below his elbow, a long scar marred his tanned skin. It was straight and precise, as if it were made by a knife, but jagged enough that no doctor would have made the incision.

At the thought, she fought back a shudder. Her circle of friends did not include anyone like him. He was a physical man. She could see that just by the way he stood there, his arms folded across his broad chest, his legs parted as he rested confidently on the heels of his tan cowboy boots. Problems were likely solved with his hands and not intellectually. She’d do well to remember that.

No designer label tagged his faded jeans, either. They were worn, soft looking, until they fitted him like a kid glove. Worn enough that she could see how the muscle bulged above his knee and traveled up his thigh. Her gaze snagged on his fly, and she quickly looked away, keeping her eyes averted as she set her feet on the ground.

She made sure her footing was solid before she stood. Only then did she look up at him. He was staring at her chest. She had modest-sized breasts at best; nothing a man generally gave a second look at. She glanced down to see what had grabbed his attention.

The front of her blouse was soaked, the now transparent silk clinging to her pink lace bra. In the center of each breast, her nipples were dark and budding—and clearly visible.

She gasped and turned to the side. But not before she caught the annoyed look in his eyes.

“If you want to stand here all night, I could cuff you to the car door.”

His voice was gruff, impatient, and she moved toward the cabin without looking at him. She hesitated when she got to the rotting first step.

Behind her, she heard the trunk open. Paper rustled, and then something thudded to the ground. She glanced over her shoulder. He was taking a bag out of the trunk. Without giving the impulse a second thought, she kicked off her heels and dashed toward a thicket of trees.

She’d made it just a few yards when he grabbed her around the waist and they both hit the ground. His body pressed hers into the hard earth. She clawed the grass, struggling to get out from under him. Dirt packed under her nails, and her knees stung where gravel scraped her skin.

“Stupid, Sydney, very stupid.” He got up and yanked her upright. He pulled her so close she had to tilt her head back. “How far did you think you’d get?”

She forced her eyes to meet the fire in his and hoped he didn’t smell her fear. “You didn’t really expect me to roll over and play dead, did you?”

“Look.” He fisted her blouse and brought her closer. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He stared down at her, and she flinched when he raised his other hand. He flicked some grass off her cheek. “Unless I have to.”

“That’s supposed to be reassuring?”

“Just cooperate, dammit.” He let her go so abruptly she stumbled backward, her cuffed hands useless to help maintain her balance. He made no move to catch her. “Get inside.”

Her shoulder hit a tree trunk hard, but at least she stayed on her feet. She bit back the remark that nearly glided off her tongue. It was a snooty thought that surprised her. But he seemed just so damned earthy. Primal. He was out of her experience, and she hated feeling at such a loss.

Instead, she edged toward the porch, stooping to pick up her black Ferragamo pumps and discreetly spitting out the dirt in her mouth. The rotting steps were tricky, but she gingerly maneuvered them without ending up on her fanny. The door was slightly ajar, and she pushed it with her toe. It creaked open farther and she peeked inside before crossing the threshold.

The room was small. Nothing separated the kitchen area from the old army-green couch or the unmade double bed. There was one door that she assumed led to a bathroom. As she got farther inside, she was surprised by the cleanliness of everything from the ancient wood floor to the single kitchen countertop. No dust or grime was visible, and in fact, the portable refrigerator was smudge-free and shiny. Odd.