up to bail you out.”
Clint frowned, ignoring the threat. “There was a letter in their mailbox. Cut-out letters that said, ‘Revenge is sweet and falls on those we love.’”
“Terrific,” the man muttered without surprise. Gray eyes focused disgustedly on a tree-mottled sky. “Not only do we have to pull a vanishing act in broad daylight, trying to keep ourselves intact, but we also have to worry about keeping them in one piece too. And they don’t exactly look like willing participants. I told you it was a mistake to come back when you did. But what do I know, right?”
As if the man’s ramblings were nothing new and therefore not worth acknowledging, Clint opened the van doors and looked inside, then dropped his head in a fatigued slump. “You could have at least gotten something with seats,” he said. “It might be a long ride.”
Sam made an up-and-down assessment of Sherry, then Madeline, his cool eyes telling them they were a burden that he did not welcome. “Who knew we’d have company? They can sit on the floor,” he said.
Sherry opened her mouth to lash out, but Madeline beat her to it. “Look, Mister Whoever-you-are. This is no picnic for us, either. If you don’t want any crashers in this little game of yours then just leave us and we’ll walk home.”
Sam uttered a low, dry laugh. “Lady, it sounds awfully tempting. But I’m not in the business of throwing pretty little appetizers to the wolves. It’s my experience that it only makes them hungrier for what they’re really after.”
Clint clutched the roof of the van with both hands and glanced over his shoulder. “Come on. Get in.”
Sherry planted her feet and refused to move, and Madeline did the same.
Sam stepped toward them, silver eyes conveying his impatience. “The man said to get in.”
Still, Sherry didn’t budge. Sam started toward her to meet the silent challenge in her eyes, but Clint stopped him. “I’ll handle her.” He looked at her for a moment, then scooped her up.
“Get your hands off me!” she railed, struggling to beat her way free of him. And Clint acquiesced, depositing her onto the bare metal floor of the van.
With a slight grin, Sam stepped toward Madeline, but her gritting, “Don’t you dare touch me,” warned him off, and she climbed into the vehicle of her own volition.
“You won’t get away with this!” Sherry sputtered as they slammed them in and climbed into the front. “My father will have the entire police force looking for us before it even gets dark.” The words were empty, she thought. He wasn’t likely to realize she was gone at least until tomorrow. But the two men abducting them didn’t know that.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, as if he’d heard it all before. Then he cranked up the van and started toward the highway.
Through eyes misty with fury and betrayal, Sherry watched Clint settle onto the floor where the passenger seat should have been and lean back against the door of the van, covering his face with a hand. The new lifestyle didn’t come easily to him, she thought. There was at least some degree of suffering that went with it. She watched his chest heave, as if the weight of breath was too heavy. He leaned forward, hiked up the jeans on his right leg, and returned the gun to its holster.
Closing her eyes, Sherry fought the tears that would reveal her shock, her fear, and her rage. It was best to retain a neutral expression at times like these, she told herself, even if everyone knew she was faking.
Forcing her eyes to the world whizzing by outside the van, she wondered in anguish where the road had turned. What had happened to transform the man she would have spent the rest of her life with—the generous, kind, sharing man she had been head over heels in love with?
A fleeting memory came back to her of her last Christmas with Clint, when he had taken gifts at his own expense to the patients in the children’s ward of the hospital. He’d told her that night
Clint frowned, ignoring the threat. “There was a letter in their mailbox. Cut-out letters that said, ‘Revenge is sweet and falls on those we love.’”
“Terrific,” the man muttered without surprise. Gray eyes focused disgustedly on a tree-mottled sky. “Not only do we have to pull a vanishing act in broad daylight, trying to keep ourselves intact, but we also have to worry about keeping them in one piece too. And they don’t exactly look like willing participants. I told you it was a mistake to come back when you did. But what do I know, right?”
As if the man’s ramblings were nothing new and therefore not worth acknowledging, Clint opened the van doors and looked inside, then dropped his head in a fatigued slump. “You could have at least gotten something with seats,” he said. “It might be a long ride.”
Sam made an up-and-down assessment of Sherry, then Madeline, his cool eyes telling them they were a burden that he did not welcome. “Who knew we’d have company? They can sit on the floor,” he said.
Sherry opened her mouth to lash out, but Madeline beat her to it. “Look, Mister Whoever-you-are. This is no picnic for us, either. If you don’t want any crashers in this little game of yours then just leave us and we’ll walk home.”
Sam uttered a low, dry laugh. “Lady, it sounds awfully tempting. But I’m not in the business of throwing pretty little appetizers to the wolves. It’s my experience that it only makes them hungrier for what they’re really after.”
Clint clutched the roof of the van with both hands and glanced over his shoulder. “Come on. Get in.”
Sherry planted her feet and refused to move, and Madeline did the same.
Sam stepped toward them, silver eyes conveying his impatience. “The man said to get in.”
Still, Sherry didn’t budge. Sam started toward her to meet the silent challenge in her eyes, but Clint stopped him. “I’ll handle her.” He looked at her for a moment, then scooped her up.
“Get your hands off me!” she railed, struggling to beat her way free of him. And Clint acquiesced, depositing her onto the bare metal floor of the van.
With a slight grin, Sam stepped toward Madeline, but her gritting, “Don’t you dare touch me,” warned him off, and she climbed into the vehicle of her own volition.
“You won’t get away with this!” Sherry sputtered as they slammed them in and climbed into the front. “My father will have the entire police force looking for us before it even gets dark.” The words were empty, she thought. He wasn’t likely to realize she was gone at least until tomorrow. But the two men abducting them didn’t know that.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, as if he’d heard it all before. Then he cranked up the van and started toward the highway.
Through eyes misty with fury and betrayal, Sherry watched Clint settle onto the floor where the passenger seat should have been and lean back against the door of the van, covering his face with a hand. The new lifestyle didn’t come easily to him, she thought. There was at least some degree of suffering that went with it. She watched his chest heave, as if the weight of breath was too heavy. He leaned forward, hiked up the jeans on his right leg, and returned the gun to its holster.
Closing her eyes, Sherry fought the tears that would reveal her shock, her fear, and her rage. It was best to retain a neutral expression at times like these, she told herself, even if everyone knew she was faking.
Forcing her eyes to the world whizzing by outside the van, she wondered in anguish where the road had turned. What had happened to transform the man she would have spent the rest of her life with—the generous, kind, sharing man she had been head over heels in love with?
A fleeting memory came back to her of her last Christmas with Clint, when he had taken gifts at his own expense to the patients in the children’s ward of the hospital. He’d told her that night
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