Bewitched: In Too Deep. Lori Foster
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He hadn’t counted on such a predicament when he’d agreed to take care of things for Dalton. He certainly hadn’t counted on his attention being diverted by a woman. Any woman, but much less one who was trying to be a man and had an attitude problem. Out of all the female types in the world, headstrong, bossy, controlling women were his very least favorite. He’d had his fill of them long ago.
Yet he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.
Dim illumination filled the back of the truck as a small, battery-operated light came on. Ralph pulled the door down from the outside, sealing the three of them in. Harry knew he had to adjust his plans. He couldn’t risk the possibility of being taken among the conspirators. The odds wouldn’t be good and now he had an outsider to think about.
He eyed the woman again. Why was she involved? He didn’t doubt for a moment that she’d been up to something, but his brain couldn’t dredge up a single plausible motivation. She hadn’t been aware of what she’d blundered into until it was too late, of that he was certain.
Floyd paced the back of the truck, agitated, for a good fifteen minutes while the truck raced farther and farther away from the police. No sirens sounded in the distance; there was nothing but the gentle patter of the rain and the grinding of the shifting truck gears.
“Sit together,” Floyd said as he slid down the opposite wall and propped the gun on a knee. “I want to be able to keep you both in my sights.”
Harry merely raised a brow at the woman and with a muttered oath, she stood and came to him, then plopped back down. “Bastard,” she whispered.
Taken aback, Harry said aloud, and with a good deal of annoyance, “I beg your pardon?”
Suddenly she turned and slugged him in the arm. “This is all your fault! They were paying me no mind until you drew their attention to me.”
He rubbed his arm where she’d socked him, more out of indignation than actual hurt, as he eyed her furious expression. “How was I to know Floyd and Ralph were too ignorant to recognize a woman when she presented herself?” Unaccountable female hysterics. He knew he was frowning at her, knew his frown was enough to frighten most grown men, and didn’t care one whit. If he scared her, it served her right.
She slugged him again. “I was disguised, you fool!”
He caught her fist and held it, careful not to hurt her, then leaned so close their noses almost touched. Through clenched teeth, he growled, “Obviously not well enough since I picked you out right away.”
He heard her swallow. Her eyes shifted on his face, nearly crossing, then finally narrowed in suspicion. “How?”
Knowing he held Floyd’s fascinated attention, Harry saw no reason not to explain. In fact, he relished the moment. “Actually, you have a woman’s mouth.”
He looked at her mouth again—now set in a mulish line—and felt his stomach muscles tighten. He swallowed. Damn her. His gaze came back up to hers and stayed there. “You have a woman’s bottom,” he said with a taunting smile, “despite the baggy jeans. You also move like a woman.”
He grinned, pulling her slightly toward him, primed for his last tribute. “And you smell very much like a woman.”
The hit was direct; she stiffened and sputtered. “Don’t be stupid! I’m not wearing perfume.”
He searched her face, amazed by his own reaction. He answered softly. “I know.”
Floyd laughed, once again showing his perfect white teeth. “I hadn’t looked at her butt.” He shrugged. “I thought she was a guy.”
Effectively distracted, Harry blinked and moved a little away from her, but maintained his grip on her punching arm. “Yes, well, she afforded me an unimpeded view. And since I’m a…healthy male, and I noticed, I knew she had to be female.”
“Warped male logic,” she accused with excessive heat, and tried to jerk her hand away. He held firm. “So why did you have to make my sex known to the other two idiots?”
“Careful.” Floyd was no longer amused.
“That was unintentional.” When she huffed, he added, “I was trying to protect you, you ungrateful child.”
“I’m not a child.”
“How old are you?” Floyd asked. It amazed Harry that Floyd could be so easily diverted.
“None of your damn business!”
The rain began to come down in earnest, sounding like gunshots on the roof of the truck. Gears shifted, throwing Harry slightly off-balance and completely toppling the girl.
Floyd stretched out his legs to brace himself. “I’d say you’re young, but not too young.” He frowned in consideration. “No one’s following us and we have a ways to go yet. Maybe you should just get naked now so I can judge for myself. You look a little too flat for my tastes, but you never know.”
The truck shifted again and they were all three caught scrambling for balance. Floyd crudely cursed Ralph’s driving abilities. The woman landed on her hands and knees and, looking comparable to a rabid dog, she shouted, “For the last time you miserable worm, I am not taking anything off!”
Harry silently applauded her bravado, misplaced as it seemed.
Judging by the incredulous look on Floyd’s face, he wouldn’t be patient much longer, and with each mile that passed, their odds of getting out of this unscathed decreased.
They rode steadily uphill. From what Harry could tell they were heading out into the farming area. No residential homes there, and people would be scarce. He had to do something before they covered too much ground.
Harry got an idea. Risky, but he had to make an effort.
He bent a stern look on the woman and demanded, “Why not? For heaven’s sake, your bosom can’t be so spectacular that it’s worth my life. Don’t think I’ve forgotten you were willing to see me die to protect your dubious modesty.”
She looked surprised, frozen, for only a heartbeat. Slowly, she turned to face him, her back to Floyd, her hands on her hips. Then to his shock, she gave him a wink, no smile, just that understanding wink that nearly floored him. At the same time she yelled, “I should have known you weren’t really a hero! You’re as bad as the other two.”
He almost grinned. He did surge to his feet to tower over her. “Almost as bad? I’ll have you know they’re babies compared to me.”
Floyd sputtered, no longer enjoying their show.
The woman leaped at him, the truck veered sharply left and they went down in a welter of arms and legs. Floyd yelled for them to stop, but they paid no heed. Their bodies rolled toward Floyd, twisting and fighting.
Harry made feigned attempts to subdue her while she did her best to bludgeon him with fists and feet. He caught himself alternately chuckling and struggling to keep from getting his nose broken. A sharp elbow in the ribs made him grunt.
Finally, finally Floyd got within reach, determined to end their scuffle. The woman neatly tripped him, and as he stumbled Harry snatched his gun hand and raised it to the roof, then clipped him hard in the chin.
He had very large, solid fists and Floyd went down without a whimper.
Breathing hard, the woman turned to him, stuck out her hand and said, “Thanks. I was starting to worry. My name’s Charlie.”
Harry laughed. “Charlie? I suppose that fits as well as anything else. You may call me Harry.” He took her hand, noticing how slim and warm her fingers felt, then asked, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She snorted rudely as her eyes darted around the truck. “I say we toss his sorry butt out the back. I have things to do and they don’t include going…wherever the hell it is we’re going. Plus I have no desire to meet their pal, Carlyle.”