Page 805 of One More Kiss

Avery

A date?

A date!

Is that what murderers called driving a person out to the middle of nowhere and slicing their body up into tiny pieces for the wolves?

The man hauling me down a flight of stairs and out into the open laughed. “I don’t use wolves. Too unreliable.”

Crap, I had said that out loud.

He placed me on my feet on the sidewalk. It took me a second to realize I was outside in public. I inhaled deeply to scream.

He wrapped his hand around my throat. “Do it and die.”

I paled.

He opened the back passenger door to the black Escalade with tinted windows that was parked nearby. “Get in.”

I swiveled my head left and right, glancing up and down the street, but the place seemed deserted. There wasn’t a pedestrian in sight. Plus, this was Chicago. Even if there was one, they’d be very unlikely to help me. Seeing no other choice, I climbed into the dark interior. Despite my dire circumstances, I couldn’t suppress a groan as I sunk back into the cool leather seats as the chilly air-conditioned interior washed over my heated skin.

If I had to die, at least I would die cool and not a melted sweaty mess.

The moment he slipped in beside me, the SUV sped away from the curb and headed toward the downtown skyline. There was a black sheet of opaque glass separating us from the driver, so there was no hope in pleading with the driver for rescue.

From under my eyelashes, I studied my kidnapper. It was like Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights had stepped out of the pages of my book into the present. He radiated Heathcliff’s same barely leashed power. This guy was tall and athletically built, with wide shoulders but narrow hips. The black T-shirt he wore seemed to show each sculpted muscle across his chest. His hair was jet black and slightly long and ruffled. His jaw held a slight five o’clock shadow that gave him a rugged and raw sexual appeal.

But it was mostly his eyes. They were intense and focused entirely on me in an unsettling way that made my heart race. His hooded gaze hid what Bronte had called eyes full of black fire.

He reached for the gun at his waist. Panicked, I dove for the door handle, uncaring that the car was at full speed. But when I rattled the silver lever, the door wouldn’t open.

He barked out, “Stop that.”

I plastered my back against the far side of the car. Would he really shoot me now? Inside a car?

He leaned forward and placed his gun inside a small compartment attached to the back of the front passenger seat.

He then leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “If you and I are going to get along, you need to stop acting like I’m going to kill you every other second.”

“Aren’t you?”

He gazed at me silently for a moment. Finally, he spoke. “Not if you are a good girl and do as you’re told.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To the Drake Hotel.”

“Why?”

“We’re attending a wedding.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen before replying. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“If I do this, will you let me go?”

Without even looking up from his phone, he said, “If? It’s cute you think you have a choice.”

---