Risky Engagement

When he took a step closer, crowding her against the car, fright exploded in her chest. How stupid was this? How stupid was she?

She threw a wild glance down the ramp. Nothing moved. Not a single person walked to or from a car. No headlights stabbed through the gloom. She was on her own here.

Her throat clogged with fear, she tried to recall any of the moves from the self-defense courses she’d taken over the years. All she could remember, all she could think of was to yell her head off and gouge her attacker’s eyes with her car keys.

She fumbled the pointed ends between her fingers, balled her fist, and screamed for help. Or tried to. She didn’t emit much more than a squeak before Blackwater clapped a hard hand over her mouth. His other hand batted away the arm she’d brought up in a vicious arc.

She fought him, using every bit of her strength, but he was too big, too strong. Reaching behind her, he ripped open the car door and shoved her inside.

Her heart hammering in terror, Nina landed in a sprawl across the driver’s seat. Pure instinct brought her knee up and her foot lashing out. Blackstone dodged the kick aimed at his groin, and took it on the outside of his thigh instead.

“Calm down!” he got out with a grunt of pain. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Right. Uh-huh. Sure.

She wasn’t about to take his word for it. With his unyielding presence blocking the exit, she scrambled over the center console and made a desperate lunge for the passenger door. Cursing, he dropped into the driver’s seat and wrapped fingers of steel around her upper arm. A swift yank jerked her back down.

“Listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Then let me go!”

“Not yet. And not here.” He kept her in place with an iron fist. “We need to talk, Dr. Grant.”

Dr. Grant?

The title penetrated her wild fear. She hadn’t used the honorific in conversation. She was sure she hadn’t. She rarely did, and then only in professional circles. So how did he know?

“Who are you?” she panted. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

“I’ll tell you at the Mayan Princess.”

Oh, Lord! He knew where she was staying. Had he followed her from the resort? Been following her the entire day?

He couldn’t have! She would have spotted him out on that winding, dusty road before her rental broke down.

If it had broken down. What if he’d sabotaged her car? Anticipated that she’d be stranded out there in the middle of nowhere? Which she would have been, if she hadn’t trudged a mile through the hot sun to Sebastian Cordell’s hacienda. Or was that part of his diabolical plan, too?

The questions hammered at her as he eased his brutal grip, but she decided not to stick around for the answers. She made another grab for the door handle, only to hear the door locks snick.

“Child protective locks,” he commented laconically as she tugged futilely on the handle.

Grinding her teeth in frustration, she sank back against the seat. Her cell phone was in her tote, she remembered. With a dead battery. Her last hope she thought as her abductor keyed the ignition, was the garage attendant.

Except there wasn’t one. The booth where she’d forked over a fee when she’d entered was now empty. Apparently, anyone who drove in after the main businesses and shops closed got to park free.

Nor was there a police officer anywhere in sight when they pulled out of the garage and hit the streets. Nina seriously considered hammering on the window to attract the attention of the people out for a late evening stroll. A return of her common sense—and gradual subsiding of panic—subdued the impulse.

Blackstone said he didn’t intend to hurt her. He also said he’d tell her what he wanted from her at the Mayan. That meant he had to pull up at the entrance to the posh resort, where the extremely well-trained parking valet, doorman and desk clerks all knew her by name. Blackstone could hardly waltz into the resort with her and waltz out again, leaving behind her dead and/or mutilated body and a small army of people who could ID him.

Could he?

She’d more or less reassured herself on that point by the time the resort appeared in the distance. She’d also worked up as much reluctant curiosity as distrust. What the heck did this man want with her? She was pretty sure now it wasn’t sex, and was shocked by the contradictory feelings that realization generated.

“Turn here,” she muttered as they approached the long, winding drive that led up to the resort. When he flipped on the directionals, the lingering remnants of Nina’s fear eased. He really was taking her back to the Mayan. She let out a low sigh of relief.

The resort was the latest in a string of San Cabo resorts that included Westin and Ritz Carlton and other high-priced escapes. Constructed to resemble a Mayan temple, the main building sat on a cliff overlooking the sea. Tall palms lined the drive leading up to it. Lit by floodlights, they provided an exotic approach to the stunningly dramatic pyramid gleaming against the night sky.

As Nina had anticipated, a valet came forward when the car rolled to a stop. He had to wait for Blackstone to hit the lock release to open her door. When he did, she scrambled out with considerably more haste than dignity.

“Buenas tardes, Dr. Grant. Did you have a good drive this afternoon?”

“I’ve had better, Ramon.” Determined to establish a record of events, Nina pointed to the driver rounding the front end of the car. “This is Señor Blackstone. Rafe Blackstone. He’s visiting me. For a short time.”

Ramon took the hint. “Buenas tardes, Señor. Will you need this car when you leave? If so, I will park it here by the entrance instead of taking it down to the lot.”

“Here’s good.” Blackstone slipped him a folded bill with the car keys and took Nina’s elbow. “Lead the way.”

She did, making sure to repeat his name to the doorman and the clerks on duty in the breezeway that served as a reception area.

“There’s a waiter over there by the pool,” Blackstone drawled. “You want to introduce me to him, too?”

“You think this is funny?” she huffed. “Somehow, I don’t find kidnapping amusing. Neither, I suspect, would the local police.”

“Police down in these parts take a different view of things, but you can call them if you want. Ask for Chief Inspector Mannie Diaz. Tell him you’re with me.”

“Well, for …!”

Thoroughly indignant, Nina came to a dead stop. Hands on hips, she faced her tormentor.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a cop back there in town instead of scaring the crap out of me?”

“I’m not a cop.”

“Oh. Well.” That set her back a bit, but she recovered quickly. “So what are you?”

“We’ll talk about that in your suite. Where is it?”

“You don’t know?” she said snidely. “You seem to know everything else.”

Ignoring the comment, he urged her through the open-air lobby to the pool beyond. It was one of four at the resort. Two catered to families, the other two to adults only. The one on this level was an infinity pool, its floodlit waters seeming to flow over the edge and drop straight into the sea far below.

Instead of booking her into the main hotel, Nina’s superefficient assistant had reserved one of the casitas that clung to the cliffs behind the pyramid. They were quieter and more private—qualities Nina had very much appreciated until this moment.

Some of her nervousness returned as she led the way down several flights of steps and around bougainvillea-draped walls. The only sounds to disturb the evening quiet were the soft music emanating from hidden speakers along the walkways and the ever-present murmur of the sea.

By the time she’d reached her casita, however, her indignation had returned. Along with it came a healthy bout of anger. Fishing her key card out of her tote, she unlocked the door and marched inside. The spacious, beautifully decorated unit featured tile floors, a fully equipped kitchen, one bedroom with a master bath to die for and a small Jacuzzi tucked in a corner of the balcony that was suspended over the sea.

Nina didn’t give her uninvited guest time to admire the ambience. Flinging her tote on a sofa covered in muted jungle print, she folded her arms across her chest.