Dying for You. BEVERLY BARTON
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you think they’ll hurt her?”
Deke cleared his throat. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On the reason they kidnapped her.”
LUCIE DIDN’T STRUGGLE against the ropes that bound her hands and feet nor did she try to chew through the rag effectively gagging her. Her kidnappers were not amateurs. It was obvious that they had done this type of thing before and were taking no chances. Shoved into the trunk of an older model Ford Taurus, she had no idea in which direction the driver was headed. They would take her somewhere isolated and secluded, which meant in the basement of a building or out in the country. She estimated that they’d been on the road for nearly an hour, but she couldn’t be sure of the time. An hour’s drive meant that they had left San Luis. Since the ocean was to the east and the border was less than fifty miles north, that meant either south or west. The nearest village to the south was…? Think, damn it, Lucie, think. Mundaca. If they went west, there were miles of tropical forests and dozens of small villages. But what if, for some reason, they hadn’t left San Luis and were simply driving around the city?
Either way, it didn’t matter. She had no way to contact anyone. She was on her own. Escape might not be an option, so she had two immediate goals: stay alive and keep her abductors in the dark about her true identity. She had to count on Cara knowing what to do.
Please, God, let her call Deke. And let her stay out of sight until he sends help.
SAWYER FINISHED his workout in the basement gym, which he had designed himself. He prided himself on staying in tip-top physical condition and he had to admit that every year past thirty-five had increased the struggle. He stripped out of his jogging shorts and stepped into the steam room. He sat down, leaned back and relaxed as the warm steam enveloped him. Nothing of any importance in his life had changed in the past few weeks. He had maintained his routine—work five days a week, personal time on the weekends. For the past three weeks, he had taken a different lady out every Friday and every Saturday night, dating more often than he usually did. At forty, he went in for quality over quantity in most aspects of his life, including sex.
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