LITMIR.BIZ

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to be thrown away and it had been her idea to leave them at Alicia’s house. The scissors, magazines and scraps had been left on the kid’s play table in Lauren’s very own bedroom.

      “Getting the kid to do it again will take a couple of more days,” she said sweetly.

      The lummox heaved her to his sweaty chest. Tory couldn’t deny he had a great body. And wasn’t bad to look at. That was why she’d been with him so long. If he could just control his mean streak and stop stinkin’ like horses, she wouldn’t mind getting together with him while she waited for all this to be over. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked backward. His hot breath landed between her breasts as she landed on his lap.

      She knew what would come. She’d told Patrick, practically begged him to let her ask someone else. This was their best option, he’d explained. No one would look too closely if her ex moved back in, but they’d ask lots of questions if it was a stranger. Especially a stranger who moved in at the same time the kid disappeared.

      So this way was smarter, and Patrick couldn’t get mad if the inevitable happened. She’d let her ex have his way. Keep him happy and hopefully get him to forget about changing the plan. With any luck, he wouldn’t knock her around too much in the process.

      Tory bit her lip and held her breath, preparing herself. Three more days and she’d be flying first-class to Paris with Patrick. Her imagination drifted, picturing another lover, more skilled, gentler. She fell backward, dropping to the floor when suddenly released.

      “What did I do?”

      “You don’t ever do nothin’.” He shoved off the couch, kicking out with his boot.

      Tory saw the red-faced rage burst from her partner and covered her face, prepared for the mean left punch she’d received many, many times. It didn’t come. She timidly stood, uncertain what would happen. She’d never seen him like this. A backhand to the side of her cheek spun her across the arm of the couch.

      “Get out of here before I really show you what I think,” he bellowed.

      Tory ran to the kid’s door, twisted the bolt and darted inside. She’d been frightened of the jerk before, but never like this. That anger she’d seen ripped into his heart—if he still had one.

      The bastard who exploded wasn’t her ex-boyfriend. He was worse. She didn’t know what he’d become or what drugs he was doing now, but he’d turned into an angry striking machine.

      She shrank to the floor, leaning against the thin wall, her mind whirling with ways to get out of this mess. She couldn’t go back out there and pretend to like that monster.

      Three more days. Could she do this for even one?

      For Paris? For Patrick? She could do it for him. She would do it for a million dollars. But now she had to come up with a story about her face. She was certain it would be black-and-blue when she went to work the next day. She needed to pretend everything was normal and not give the police any reason to question her.

      A cool little hand soothed her hot cheek. “Are you okay, Tory? Your face is sunburned.”

      “Yeah. Just a little scared. I’m going to sleep in here tonight.”

      “Are you scared of the big man, too? He yells loud like Grandma Weber.” Her small four-year-old hand covered her mouth. “Oops. She yells more when I call her Grandma.”

      Lauren’s embarrassed giggle was sweet, but not enough to make Tory forget who’d just hit her into the next county.

      Nothing in the room would slide in front of the door. Nothing to use for protection. Just a mattress on the floor and plastic blocks in the corner. Tory heard determined footsteps heading their direction. She braced herself against the thin door.

      Silence.

      Click.

      The bastard had locked her in with their prisoner, and her cell was in her purse in the kitchen.

      “I’ll take care of the money arrangements, Tory. You manage the runt,” he shouted through the wood. “And you ain’t going to work no more. I ain’t no babysitter.”

      She allowed Lauren to crawl in her lap, hugging the little girl close. This wasn’t the plan.

      Lauren tugged on Tory’s shirtfront to get her attention. “How long is Mommy going to be gone? I don’t like it here.”

      “Me neither, sweetie. Me neither.”

      Chapter Seven

      The dilapidated barn stall still held the smell of manure after years of nonuse. Alicia was hot, sticky and had no intention of lying under the cover of the sleeping bag, until Johnny reminded her rat snakes loved barns. The horrible creatures could actually climb into the rafters and wait. So, of course, she couldn’t close her eyes and was stuck searching the decaying wooden beams.

      “You just had to mention snakes,” she complained, hearing him actually laugh.

      “You ever going to sleep?”

      She noticed the flick of an LED watch from his direction.

      “What time is it?”

      “Twenty-three minutes after the last time you asked,” he mumbled.

      He sounded muffled, maybe facedown with his mouth pushed into his muscles. Johnny wasn’t worried about the nasty snakes that bit when they were provoked. He’d never been afraid and had constantly irritated the cold-blooded things when they were younger.

      “Are you sure we can’t sleep outside? It’s sweltering in here.” She tossed the bag off her, keeping the zippered end only over her bare feet. “There’s absolutely no breeze.”

      “I was only teasing about the snakes, you know.” His clear, rich voice came from slightly higher, like he was raised on his elbows.

      He was bare chested, just like he’d been when she’d arrived at the Double Bar earlier that afternoon. The memory of his sculpted muscles sent her thoughts in a wild direction. She chased her thoughts back to slithering, long things hanging above her.

      Snakes were a safer subject to concentrate on. The cold eating machines weren’t nearly as likeable as a man who had promised to find Lauren.

      “The thought of snakes isn’t really what’s bothering me. I’m letting my mind fixate on it so I don’t think about other things.” Lots of other things.

      “Like?” he asked, sounding resigned they were talking in the dark instead of sleeping.

      “Lauren’s been gone less than a week and I feel so alone. Every part of me aches.”

      “I’d be worried if it didn’t. You’ve taken an emotional beating. Hurting’s a lot better than feeling nothing at all,” he said softly.

      “Is that what you feel? Nothing?”

      “Me? Negative. I’m confused more than anything.”

      She heard the slick of the nylon rustling, gave up and looked at him. The crescent moon still spilled enough light to see a few old wounds on his shoulder. He sat, one arm wrapped around a knee that he’d brought close to his chest.

      “Confused? I don’t understand. You were very decisive ordering me what to pack and what to do. I witnessed exactly what your dad is always telling me. How you’re such an in-charge leader and all.”

      “My dad?” He drew his brows together, a permanent crease between them now that hadn’t been there in his teens.

      “Yeah. I mean, he’d tell me before the stroke.”

      He stretched his back by raising his arms above his head.

      Goodness, he had muscles on top of muscle. There couldn’t be an inch of fat on him anywhere. She couldn’t watch and looked out the door to the star-studded sky.

      “Did

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