Strangers in the Night

Ross arched a brow at her. “Another friend of yours?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know who he is.”

“Well, we can wait for your new friend here to wake up and see what he has to say about it. Or maybe we should wait for Taylor to show up.”

“I told you I don’t know any Taylor.”

“And I told you I don’t believe you. Take your pick, lady. Taylor or me.”

She scrambled for another option and came up empty. She just knew she didn’t want to stand there arguing with him. Like it or not, Taylor was out there. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “Let’s get out of here.”

She moved first to take the lead. Ross didn’t give her the chance. He surged forward toward the rear of the building, pulling her with him.

He stopped at the back of the building to make sure it was clear. Once he’d ascertained it was, he started moving again without saying a word. There was nothing for her to do but follow.

For now.

T HE SEDAN had New York plates.

Taylor barely glimpsed the license plate out of the corner of his eye. He was halfway down the block when the fact sank in.

After a half hour of aimlessly wandering the streets, he’d doubled back to the main one where the bar and the drugstore where the woman worked were located. Being on foot was getting him nowhere. He could cover more ground in his car.

But he’d kept alert on his way back, searching for any sign of the woman, paying attention to everything that fell within his range of vision.

Like the sedan with New York plates.

Curious, he turned around and narrowed his eyes on the car parked along the curb. He’d passed a pickup truck with New York plates farther down the block. Then the sedan. And of course his own vehicle was waiting around the corner.

Now what were the chances that three vehicles from New York would all be here tonight without being connected?

It was possible. There had to be millions of cars registered with New York State, all with corresponding plates.

But Taylor didn’t believe in coincidences.

Before he had a chance to consider it further, a man appeared down the street pulling a woman with him. Both quickly looked around them, neither seeing him tucked away in the shadows down the block. They quickly made their way to a truck parked along the curb. The truck he’d noted with New York plates.

He had no trouble recognizing the woman, despite the change in her hair from a year ago. It was the sight of the man that blindsided him.

His mouth curling into a sneer, Taylor bit back a curse. Gideon Ross. The two-bit bounty hunter had been a pain in his ass for too long, ever since the death of that washed-up old man. Taylor had thought he’d been rid of the bastard when he finally left the city.

And now he had the woman.

Damn it. It was all he could do not to grab his weapon from his shoulder holster and take aim. He and Chastain had always known how bad it would be if anyone else got their hands on her before Taylor did. But for Ross to be the one might just be the worst-case scenario.

Taylor took an instinctive step forward, then quickly stepped back into the shadows and considered his options. He could hustle down the block and try to get to the truck before they left, but he probably wouldn’t be able to stop them. Or he could run back to his own vehicle and try to follow. They’d likely be long gone before he got back.

Almost absently, he dropped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the tracking device he’d been fooling around with for a while now. He’d thought it might come in handy if she managed to hop on a bus or grab a cab before he could stop her. The only problem was he was nowhere near close enough to get the transmitter on the truck, and there was little chance he could do so before they took off.

Down the block, Ross pushed the woman into the passenger side of the truck, but not before she elbowed him in the ribs. Even from a distance, Taylor could tell it had to hurt. Obviously the woman was not going willingly. He took no satisfaction from the knowledge.

By the time the truck roared to life and pulled away from the curb, he knew he had no choice but to get back to his car and try to catch them before they got too far.

Just as he started to turn away, a man rushed out of an alley up ahead, coming from the same direction Ross and the woman had.

Taylor froze, his gut telling him not to move just yet. Maybe Ross and the woman hadn’t just been running. Maybe they’d been running from something. Or somebody.

Maybe somebody else from New York?

Without even thinking about it, he used his thumb to flip a tiny switch on the back of the tracking device. It didn’t make a sound. It didn’t need to. He knew the transmitter was activated.

His attention shifted to the sedan parked down the block. The other vehicle with New York plates. Sure enough, the man was quickly striding in that direction.

But who was this guy? Someone else after the woman?

The questions could wait. Instinct told him he couldn’t risk losing this guy.

Taylor darted through the shadows toward the vehicle. The other man made his way down the sidewalk, only crossing when he reached the car. Taylor made it there first and waited, hidden in a darkened storefront doorway. The man had no idea he was there.

When the man climbed into his car, Taylor made his move. He shot out at the exact moment the car door slammed shut and fell to his stomach on the pavement behind the car. As the engine rumbled to life, he reached up and shoved the transmitter under the back bumper.

The car started to pull away. Taylor pushed off on his elbows and shoved himself backward—right under the parked car behind him.

He lay there, immobile, and listened to the car disappearing into the night. A good minute passed before it was gone and the street was silent again.

Only then did he roll out from under the other car. Rising to his feet, he didn’t so much as brush himself off as he crossed the street and headed back to where he’d parked his own set of wheels.

The chase was back on.

Chapter Four

They crossed the state line into Indiana a little after one in the morning. By then, they’d driven out of one storm and into the one that had passed through Chicago earlier that day. Driving sheets of rain battered the truck, creating a roar that surrounded them on all sides. The effect only heightened the silence that crackled between Ross and the woman.

All things considered, Ross thought he’d done pretty well. He didn’t have Taylor, true, but he had something Taylor wanted, and that had to be a lot more valuable.

The only question was, what exactly did he have?

Ross resisted the urge to glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She was braced against the passenger door, her wrist shackled to a metal bar bolted to the dashboard. He’d locked her in before she knew what he was doing as soon as they reached the vehicle. She hadn’t looked at him since, her attention stubbornly focused outside her window.

Ross rubbed at the tension knotting the back of his neck. He’d taken in female skips before, enough that he should have known how to expect a cornered woman to behave. Usually by this point, when they had a chance to realize they weren’t going to get away from him, they reacted by either screaming or bursting into tears, as if a show of emotion could sway him into letting them go. Most included a sob story, some yarn about how they were framed or justified or otherwise blameless, little realizing he’d heard their story before in a million other forms, and no teary eyes or wobbly lips were going to make it any more believable this time around.

This woman did none of that. She sat there against the door, her free hand lying in her lap, and looked resolutely away. She said nothing. If it wasn’t for her ramrod posture and her too-studious show of nonchalance, he might have actually believed she’d managed to forget about him.

Under normal circumstances, he might have appreciated the peace and quiet. Instead, it made him uneasy. It meant she was thinking, planning her inevitable escape attempt, no doubt. He would have to put an end to that. He was too tired to put up with any more of her nonsense tonight. He could already feel a bruise forming where she’d elbowed him in the ribs before stepping into the truck.

He grimaced at the soreness. He didn’t used to be so delicate. Too old, man. You’re too damn old for this crap.

He cleared his throat. “You planning on saying anything on this trip?”