The Missing Millionaire

“Shooting a gun never made my to-do list.”

“Maybe you’d better give it back.”

“I don’t think so. Is there a safety on this thing?”

She muttered something under her breath and indicated the switch. “Move this. The gun is fully loaded, so leave it on for now. I don’t want you shooting me by mistake.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

He jammed the heavy metal object into his waistband, the way he’d seen it done in the movies. Hopefully the gun couldn’t go off on its own and blow away something vital.

Scowling, she shoved another weapon in her duffel bag. “If they know we escaped, they’ll come back here. They’ll know this is where I’d head.”

“Who will know?”

“That’s what I plan to find out.” Her voice was brittle, underscored by anguish. She suddenly whirled on him, her features a mask of pain. “Who are you? What makes you worth all these lives?”

Stunned, Harrison gaped at her. “You’re blaming me for this?”

“You’re the focal point.”

He struggled to bank his answering swell of anger as she shoved another gun in the back waistband of her pants beneath her shirt. Boxes of shells went into the duffel bag.

“Let me remind you that you kidnapped me.”

Leaving the bag open, she ignored that and sized him up with eyes that were haunted by grief. “Thirty-six-inch waist?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Thirty-four.”

“Close enough.” She reached in and pulled out a pair of men’s jeans and added them to the bag that already held clothing.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” She tossed in a couple of shirts as well.

“I have my own clothes.”

“Not with you.”

He shook his head as she added more items with no wasted motions. “I’m six-one.”

“So?”

“The man downstairs—”

The look of pain on her face rocked him back. “His name was Tony. He was five-eleven.”

Tony, not Dad. “Who—?”

“Later. We need to move. I don’t think they rigged this house to explode or it probably would have by now, but I don’t have time to be sure.”

Cold swept him.

“Let’s go.” She closed the duffel bag and handed it to him. “You carry it. I’ll take point.” She reached the doorway in two strides.

“Why aren’t we calling the police?” Why hadn’t he done that instead of standing around like a brain-dead fool?

She didn’t bother responding. His gut coiled as he realized she really did think the house might explode. They exited the way they’d entered with no last glance at either body. If it hadn’t been for her obvious grief, he’d have thought she didn’t care.

His own mind was numb with what he dimly recognized as shock. He couldn’t help the accompanying fear that this house might blow up at their backs as well.

Instead of running back to her car, Jamie ran to the two-car garage behind the house. She bypassed the zippy bright red sports car and unlocked the large black sedan beside it. “Get in.”

“What about your car?”

“It’s a rental. We need to get rid of it. Toss the bag in the back.”

Harrison obeyed. He climbed in as she opened the garage door with a remote clipped to the visor. “What about the SUV in the driveway behind us?”

“I’ll go around it.”

He looked back through the darkly tinted windows and swallowed a protest. He’d have sworn there wasn’t enough room between the house and the big SUV for this large sedan, but he’d have been wrong. She drove with an impressive precision, scraping neither the house nor the car and barely slowing down in the process.

She braked as soon as she reached her rental car. “Here.” She handed him the keys.

“What’s to stop me from leaving?”

“Not a thing. I almost wish you would. But you won’t survive another twenty-four hours on your own. You seem to be a slow learner, Mr. Trent. Someone wants you dead and they don’t care who else they have to kill to make it so.”

There was cold certainty in her voice. Harrison didn’t understand what was happening here, but he could tell she believed every word she was saying. “Pretty sure of your abilities, aren’t you?”

Her expression didn’t change. “There’s a good chance neither one of us is going to survive the next twenty-four hours, but I have the expertise to try. What about you?”

There was nothing he could say to that.

“There’s a gas station not far from here where we can leave the rental.”

“You know who’s behind these attacks.”

She didn’t flinch at the accusation. “No.”

“You’ve got some idea.” He could see that she did.

“Either follow me or go, but get out of the car.”

It was her inner anguish that decided him. “I’ll stick with you.” He wanted answers and she was going to give them to him one way or another.

Harrison stepped from the sedan and moved to the smaller car. He stayed right behind her as she drove the speed limit out of the development. Obviously, she didn’t want to draw any attention to them.