Hostage by Kay Hooper Page B

offered, not about to argue with her partner, since she wanted to take a very hot shower and then curl up and take a nap. For about twelve hours.
    Anna was clearly disappointed but spoke quickly to say, “There’s absolutely no sense in you two making that long drive from town twice. You can stay the night here. In fact, you’re welcome to stay as long as you feel it’s necessary. It might even help,” she added with more than a touch of pleading in her voice. “If you spend more time in his house, it might be easier for you to contact Daniel.”
    “Oh, but—”
    “Please, the guest rooms are always ready, and there are two connected by a little sitting room on the second floor that I’m sure will suit you.”
    Which, Hollis thought, neatly resolved their hostess’s potentially awkward dilemma as to whether to ask if her unmarried guests needed one bedroom or two. Before she could gather her thoughts to form a refusal, she heard her partner smoothly accepting the invitation.
    “Thank you, Anna. You’ve saved me a long drive back to town with Hollis snoring in the passenger seat.”
    “I would not,” Hollis said somewhat indignantly. “Snore
or
sleep. Besides, we didn’t even bring luggage.”
    “Yes, we did. Since we hadn’t unpacked at the hotel, I put both our bags in the car while you were . . . discussing . . . with the hotel manager the remarkable lack of high-speed Internet.”
    “His sign
said
Wi-Fi was available,” Hollis said irritably. “Not just high speed, but
wireless
. The sign didn’t say a thing about it being available apparently only during a blue moon that happened to fall on a Thursday. In December.”
    “Point made,” DeMarco murmured.
    “Truth in advertising. There ought to be consequences.”
    “Trust me, he knows that now.”
    Anna said brightly, “So that’s settled. I’ll have Thomas show you to your rooms and have your luggage brought up. You two can rest and freshen up, and we’ll have dinner around eight thirty. Is that all right?”
    Hollis wanted to argue, but she was just too tired. And cold. Maybe a hot shower would help, or maybe she’d take a little nap before dinner. At any rate, despite her misgivings, she admitted to herself that either was infinitely preferable to getting back into the car and heading back to that odd little town, especially since that odd little hotel in that odd little town didn’t offer room service. And she had a strong hunch they rolled up the sidewalks in that town somewhere around sundown.
    Supper would be out of a vending machine if they didn’t stay here and take advantage of the Alexanders’ hospitality.
    “Thank you,” she said with a little sigh. “That would be wonderful, Anna.”
    Whether the spirits of the mansion would disturb her was only a faint and passing thought.

FOUR
    Luther Brinkman realized he was waking up even before he could force his eyelids to open, because he smelled coffee. It smelled wonderful.
    He had no idea how long he’d been out, but his stomach felt empty and when he was finally able to open his eyes, the lids practically scraped across his corneas.
    He’d been out a while. Quite a while.
    “More than twenty-four hours. It’s around dawn. On Wednesday.”
    He blinked several times, staring up at rough-hewn beams, turning her voice over in his mind.
    Ah. The woman in the woods. The one with the shotgun.
    Suddenly wary, he began to push himself up onto his elbows, biting back a sound of pain as his leg throbbed a protest. He was covered with a blanket but could feel the constriction of a bandage around his upper thigh.
    A pillow was stuffed behind his head and shoulders, and a steaming cup placed in his hand. “You shouldn’t move very much just yet. You’d already lost a lot of blood, and I had to dig pretty deep to get that bullet out.”
    She had to dig?
    “You’re lucky, though. The bullet was right up next to bone but hadn’t damaged it as far as I could tell. And, luckily, it