The Missing Millionaire

“There has to be a connection.”

She shook her head. “You’re a businessman, Mr. Trent. You’ve probably ticked off a number of people.”

He tensed. “Being a businessman makes me evil?”

“Being a successful businessman makes you a target,” she corrected. “Did you win any big deals lately? Maybe fire someone with a temper? Step on the wrong toes?” Like Victor DiMarko’s? “Start thinking, Mr. Trent, because someone doesn’t like you.”

“I’m sure a number of people don’t like me, but blowing me up is extreme. I don’t make that sort of enemy.”

“Obviously, you have now.”

She drove in silence while he contemplated her words. Abruptly, he pointed toward the windshield. “There’s a gas station up ahead. It’s closed, but maybe it has a pay phone.”

Jamie slowed, considered the spot and then sped up again.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s too isolated. We’d be too exposed.”

“Stop the car! I have to warn Zoe!”

“And I have to call someone as well, but I’d like us both to survive the experience. We’re too close to the house, Mr. Trent. This is the first phone I’ve seen. I suspect our bomber knows that. I don’t want to take the risk.”

“I’m willing.”

“But you aren’t driving.”

For a moment she thought he’d make a grab for the steering wheel. Fortunately, he wasn’t a fool.

“We’ll be on the highway in a couple of minutes. We’ll find a place to stop after that.”

“If Zoe dies because you wasted time, I’ll make it my full-time goal to see you spend the rest of your life in prison.”

Her scalp prickled. She didn’t doubt him, but she couldn’t afford to let his words stop her. “I prefer positive incentives myself.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Didn’t think you were.” She forced her voice to remain level as fear churned in her belly. “I don’t know who’s coming after you. Maybe they will go after your fiancée next. Maybe they already have. What I do know is that they tried to kill you and now they’re going to go after my friend because he’s the only one who can nail their hides to the barn door.”

“Assuming your friend isn’t behind the bombing.”

“That’s a given.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

His voice tightened. “Why should I trust you? You drugged me, kidnapped me and planned to hold me against my will.”

Her patience gave out. “That’s right, so don’t mess with me. I’ve got nothing to lose. When we find a safe pay phone, you can use it after me. In the meantime, be quiet and let me drive.”

HARRISON EYED HER with a grudging respect. Her elfin features were determined. He sensed she was telling him the truth as she saw it, but that didn’t soothe his impatience to reach Zoe and be sure she was unharmed.

“Is it possible the explosion was meant for you or one of the other two women?” he asked after a few minutes.

Jamie hesitated as if that thought hadn’t occurred to her. “Unlikely.”

But there was a thread of uncertainty in her tone. The more he considered the idea, the more he liked it. Drake’s killer would have no reason to kidnap or kill him, yet if Jamie was telling the truth, someone wanted him to miss his wedding. Why? Drake was dead. Where was the motive?

He squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve the throbbing pain in his head. The drug had left his mouth cottony dry and his stomach churning. Exhaustion tugged at him, both physical and emotional. As they rocketed down the highway, he wondered what would happen if a cop tried to flag them over. Would she stop? Would she tell the police what had happened?

Would he?

He was used to making snap decisions about people, but Jamie confused him. His initial attraction to her lingered despite what she had done. He couldn’t define what it was about her that had intrigued him from the start. But after she sped past the third possible exit ramp, any attraction he might have felt dissolved as he realized she had no intention of stopping.

“We could have found a pay phone at that exit.”

“I know. I also know you don’t have any change. I dressed you.”

Disconcerted, he couldn’t decide which was more disturbing, the fact that she was right about the change, or the fact that she’d dressed him. He always slept in the nude.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any change, either,” she added.

“You don’t need change to dial 911.”

She cut him a look. “I have no intention of dialing 911.”

That answered the question of what she’d say to the police if they were stopped.

“You could use a credit card.”

Her scornful expression deepened.

“Where are we going?”

She said nothing for so long he decided she wasn’t going to answer.

“We should get rid of this car,” she told him finally.

“What, you don’t like the color?”

She ignored his sarcasm. “It’s been sitting outside that farmhouse all evening. We’re lucky it wasn’t rigged to explode, too.”

“Now, there’s a cheery thought.” He shifted at the memory of those horrific explosions.

“It could also have a tracer on it in case one of us did escape.”

“Just who do you think is after me?”