Wife By Deception. Donna Sterling
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steps were necessary to protect her niece.
Even if that meant running with her.
“I’m ready to go,” she muttered between clenched teeth, her hands still gripping the edge of the dresser behind her, “whenever you are.”
“Good.” With a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he again leaned in too close. “Then let me make it official. I’m placing you under citizen’s arrest.” From behind her came a click-click sound, and cold metal encircled her wrists. “For the crime of kidnapping.”
She jerked her arms, found them bound together and stared at him in horrified surprise. He’d reached behind her and handcuffed her!
“Kidnapping,” she repeated in panicked disbelief. “You’re charging me with kidnapping?”
“It was against custody orders for you to take Arianne out of state…which you well know. Not to mention the six months you kept her away from me.”
Alarm buzzed in Kate’s head. Could she, as the baby’s aunt, be charged with kidnapping, or accessory to kidnapping? She didn’t believe so, but she didn’t know much about kidnapping laws. “If you really think I kidnapped her, why don’t you just call the police, here and now?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? All you’d have to say is that it’s your turn to keep the baby, and I’d be the one forced to prove otherwise. By the time they got the mess straightened out, you’d be long gone.” He shook his head. “No, chèr’. The only place I know I’ll get justice is in my neck of the woods.”
His neck of the woods. Where, exactly, was that? From his use of the word chèr’, she guessed Louisiana…but she couldn’t be sure. Cajun communities in Texas, Mississippi, even South Carolina and California, also used the term. She certainly couldn’t ask him where he was from. If she was Camryn, she’d know.
Kate stiffened in fury as he gripped her arm and forced her into step beside him. He seemed pretty darn sure of himself. Maybe she’d tell the authorities her real name and charge him with kidnapping her! Perhaps then she’d be granted custody of Arianne.
“Don’t worry about your suitcases,” he said. “I’ll send my driver in to get them once I have you situated in the van.”
Situated? In a van? She didn’t like the sound of that.
“Oh, and just in case you’re planning on screaming when we step outside,” he murmured, settling his palm against her nape, “all I have to do is apply the right amount of pressure here—” his thumb pressed into the sensitive indentation near her hairline “—to render you unconscious. You’d then have to make the entire trip bound and gagged.” His hand remained cupped around her nape, making her all the more aware of his strength and heat and male toughness. “The choice is yours, chèr’.”
She couldn’t wait to have him thrown in jail for kidnapping her…and to get full, permanent custody of Arianne.
Assuming, of course, he really did intend to hand her over to the authorities. As he ushered her out the door, through the garage and into the back of a van with heavily tinted windows, her hands in cuffs and her neck encircled by that strong, ruthless hand, Kate began to have her doubts about that. If he hated Camryn enough, a man like him might simply murder her.
She wouldn’t give in to the steadily mounting fear, though. She couldn’t afford the luxury of cowardice.
Arianne needed her.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE’D NEVER BEEN a prisoner before. She was definitely one now.
Mitch had escorted her to the rear bench seat in a maroon passenger van parked just outside her garage. The van’s tinted windows stopped outsiders from seeing in…which, of course, prevented the prisoner inside from signaling for help. The handcuffs binding her wrists behind her back also greatly curtailed her chances of attracting attention.
A dull sense of fear throbbed through her like a toothache.
He settled in beside her, blocking her access to the door. Dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans that emphasized the musculature of his chest, arms and thighs, he gave the impression of immense, ruthless power barely contained. He sat close enough for Kate to feel the heat from his sinewy arm, and she shifted as far away from him as possible in the suddenly tight confines of the back seat.
“Are these handcuffs really necessary?” she asked. “How on earth do you think I could possibly escape?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past you, Cam,” he murmured.
She bit back words of protest, afraid that if she didn’t, he’d gag her.
The driver, a dark, burly man wearing a black sports cap, a sleeveless green muscle shirt and tattoos on his impressive biceps, drove the van west from Tallahassee on I-10. Kate wondered how long the ride would be. And if she would survive it.
She truly was at the mercy of these men.
Mitch distracted her from her growing fear by reaching over the seat for her purse, which his cohort had carried to the van along with her luggage. As Mitch rifled through the contents of her suede handbag, she held her breath.
Her goal of reclaiming Arianne could very well depend on her impersonation of Camryn. The identification cards in her wallet would give her away. Although she could explain away the driver’s license in the name of Kathryn Jones by saying she’d applied for it under her alias, its date of issue was nearly a year ago. If Mitch noticed the date, he’d realize that Camryn couldn’t have been in Tallahassee at that time.
Another problem was the campus identification card naming her as Kathryn Jones, Ph.D., professor of history, Florida State University. Why would Camryn have gone to the trouble of manufacturing that?
Kate breathed freely again only when her captor nudged aside her wallet and pulled out, instead, a small container of pepper spray. She’d actually forgotten about that neat little defensive weapon. Since she had no intention of escaping before she discovered who he was, where he lived and where he’d sent Arianne, she hadn’t concentrated on arming herself.
“Put this up for safekeeping, Darryl.” He tossed the pepper spray to his driver, who caught it without taking his eyes from the road. “Wouldn’t want my sweet bride bringing more tears to my eyes, would I?”
His sweet bride. The sarcasm was heavy in his otherwise light tone. Was he angry, not only because Camryn had taken the baby, but because she’d left him?
After latching the purse closed, he tossed it behind the seats, where they’d stored her luggage. Kate gave silent thanks that he hadn’t examined her identification cards and unmasked her as an imposter. He probably would have dropped her off on the side of the road, leaving her no means of tracking Arianne. Unless, of course, she caught the license-plate number of the van—a feat she hadn’t managed when he’d hurried her into the vehicle. But even a tag number didn’t assure success of tracking down a determined person. For all she knew, the van could be stolen, or rented under a false name.
She made a mental note, though, to check the tag number at the first chance, as well as dispose of her identification cards, if those opportunities ever arose.
Her captor leaned forward and folded down the seat in front of them into a low bench. He then lounged back in his seat, extended his long legs across the bench and rested his arm along the back of her seat. The pose brought him even closer to her, while his vivid green gaze locked with hers. “So, tell me…why did you run with Arianne? And what have you been doing since you left? I’d like to know what kind of life my daughter has been leading.”
Although he spoke softly, there was no mistaking his anger. Would something she’d say provoke him to violence? Her fear intensified. She was afraid to answer, yet afraid to remain silent.
Her drumming pulse and sweating palms brought back memories of childhood terror: late-night visits at the