She watched her kidnapper sleep.

Her gaze moved down to the patch job she’d done on the bullet wound. Except for the blood that had soaked the comforter, it didn’t look bad. But his shorts had to come off.

Jade got the scissors and cut them straight up both sides. She hesitated before pulling them down, then realized she was being ridiculous. Which didn’t stop her from staring at him once she got his underwear clear.

With a jolt, she realized what she’d just done. She’d saved his life. Her kidnapper’s life. No. Max’s life. Her perception of him had changed. A lot. Maybe it was the fact that he’d called the police to tell them they’d gotten the wrong man. Or perhaps it was the fact that he’d been willing to let her go, at such great personal cost.

Damn, how could she care? She didn’t know him. Not really. But damn it, she did care.

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

Our romantic suspense lineup this month promises to give you a lot to look forward to this holiday season!

We start off with Full Exposure, the second book in Debra Webb’s miniseries COLBY AGENCY: INTERNAL AFFAIRS. The ongoing investigation into the agency’s security leak heats up as a beautiful single mom becomes a pawn in a ruthless decimation plot. Next up…will wedding bells lead to murder? Find out in Hijacked Honeymoon—the fourth book in Susan Kearney’s HEROES, INC. series. Then Mallory Kane continues her ULTIMATE AGENTS stories with A Protected Witness—an edgy mystery about a vulnerable widow who puts her life in an FBI special agent’s hands.

November’s ECLIPSE selection is guaranteed to tantalize you to the core! The Man from Falcon Ridge is a spellbinding gothic tale about a primitive falcon trainer who swoops to the rescue of a tormented woman. Does she hold the key to a grisly unsolved murder—and his heart? And you’ll want to curl up in front of the fire to savor Christmas Stalking by Jo Leigh, which pits a sexy Santa-in-disguise against a strong-willed senator’s daughter when he takes her into his protective custody. Finally this month, unwrap Santa Assignment, an intense mystery by Delores Fossen. The clock is ticking when a desperate father moves heaven and earth to save the woman who could give his toddler son a Christmas miracle.

Enjoy all six!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Christmas Stalking
Jo Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jo Leigh lives way the heck up on a mountain in Utah with her own personal hero and her many chipmunk friends. She loves to hear from readers at http://www.joleigh.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Max Travis—When all the evidence points to him as a cold-blooded killer, Jade is his last and only hope.

Jade Parker—In order to save her father’s reputation, must she destroy the man she loves?

Senator William Parker—His terrible secrets have put his daughter in the crosshairs of a killer.

C. J. Harris—With billions at stake, he’ll stop at nothing—including murder—to get what he wants.

Joseph Retik—He only has one objective: to get rid of anyone in the way.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

Pain woke him. A sharp poke in the ribs. Max Travis groaned as he struggled to open his eyes. Cold, biting cold, made his movements as stiff as the slab of rock beneath him.

“You can’t sleep here.” A cop, bundled in a heavy winter coat, stood scowling above him.

Max blinked, dizziness making it hard to focus, disorientation making it impossible to think. “Where am I?”

“On my beat, so get your ass up and out of here. I don’t care where you go, but you can’t stay here.”

Max put his elbow on the cold stone and pushed himself into a sitting position. Everything ached, and when he rubbed his eyes he found ice crystals on his lashes. He cursed as he fought to get his bearings, to figure out what the hell was going on.

The cop gave him one more jab in the side with his nightstick. “The soup kitchen is on Fourth. Don’t let me find you out here again.”

Max didn’t bother with a response. He had other things to worry about. Like the fact that he could barely move his fingers. That he had no idea where he was, or how he’d gotten here. The last thing he could remember was the bar last night. He’d had a drink with a couple of guys from the paper. Which would have explained things, except, he’d been drinking soda. He hadn’t touched booze for over six months.

He shifted on what he saw was marble. Marble? He turned, the motion making him groan, and not a little nauseous. Behind him, Abraham Lincoln sat impervious to the weather. The Lincoln Memorial? What the…?

He stood up too quickly and had to grab the corner of the bench. All he could manage were a few deep breaths, the cold hurting his lungs. What the hell had happened to him? His head pounded with pain so intense he couldn’t think at all. It helped to focus on his scratchy throat. What he wouldn’t do for a bottle or ten of aspirin.

When he opened his eyes, the cop had gone and the tourists, drawn to the Lincoln statue, gave him a wide berth. If he looked like he felt, he didn’t blame them.

He didn’t think he was going to vomit, but he moved slowly nonetheless, turning toward the street. His car was nowhere in sight, which wasn’t surprising. What did surprise him was that his wallet was still in his pocket, along with his credit cards, driver’s license and thirteen dollars. So were his keys.

It was Monday. At least he hoped it was. He was supposed to meet his friend and colleague Peter Shelby at the café, then go in to work to face J.G. He cursed, scaring an Asian woman walking her baby. It occurred to him that he still had his watch. Four past seven. Monday. So it was only the one night he couldn’t account for.

Again, he thought about the bar. He’d ordered a soda, even though Jeremy had called him a little girl. It hadn’t bothered him. Not ordering his favorite scotch had, but that was between him and his maker. Whom he’d clearly almost met overnight.

Max headed toward Twenty-third street. He could catch a cab there and go back to the bar, see if his car was still parked around the corner. Then he’d call Pete, cancel the breakfast chat. He had two hours to get his act together before seeing his boss, and he’d need an hour of that for a shower.

As he walked, his head cleared. It didn’t feel a whole lot better, but his thoughts clarified a little. Enough to figure out that he’d been slipped a Mickey. Something damn strong to have wiped everything after it right off the slate.

Why? Who?

The only thing he could think of was Geotech. The woman. The redhead. She’d come on to him, using a fine set of double D’s and the most incredible red lips, and he’d been putty in her hands. Ready to swim great oceans, or at the very least buy her dinner.

And then, nothing. No memories until the cop had jabbed him. A royal headache, the taste of many pairs of army boots in his mouth, and a terrible feeling that his investigation into Senator William Parker and Geotech had gone from the suspect to the criminal. He wasn’t just close to the truth, he was right on ground zero.

HIS CAR was still in front of the Guardian bar, the engine so cold it took five minutes to warm it up enough to turn on the heater. His gloves sat on the dashboard. He usually kept them in his coat pocket but last night he hadn’t bothered. His plan had been to hoist a few, get an order of the famous chili fries, then get his ass home.

He headed there now, creeping through the slow D.C. morning traffic. He’d left his cell phone at the house along with his laptop. Even if whoever had drugged him had gotten into his apartment and stolen his computer, they wouldn’t find much. He was too careful for that. Everything was encrypted, and the pertinent data was kept on separate disks, hidden behind the wall in his bathroom.

He thought again about the redhead. He’d left her for a few minutes to hit the head, that’s when she must have doctored his drink. Probably one of the date-rape drugs, although he felt pretty sure her intent hadn’t been to have her way with him. So what was her goal? Why knock him out and leave him on a public bench? Why not kill him, if they wanted the story stopped? Why not beat the crap out of him in the way of thugs everywhere, warning him to back the hell off?

He found a decent parking spot a block away from his apartment. He locked the car, shivering in the still freezing air. It took him awhile to actually get to his building, the five-story box that was the essence of tenement living. He didn’t give a damn. No one bothered him here, he was close to work, close to the center of life in D.C.

The elevator ride with all the lurching and grumbling was a quiet nightmare, and then it was all he could do not to bump the walls in his hallway as he made it to his door. It took him a minute to fish his keys out of his pocket. As he pushed the key into the lock, the door swung open. “Damn.”

He suddenly felt both better and worse. His stomach rose into his throat, but his mind was horribly clear. If he had an ounce of smarts he would get the hell out, call the police. For all he knew someone was inside, ready to finish what the drugs had started. But he’d never been smart. He listened, heard nothing, then took a step inside. That’s when he saw the body. Despite the big winter coat, he recognized the dead man instantly. He’d known him all his life.

“Werner?” he whispered, knowing there would be no answer. The old man lay on his back, his coat soaked with blood, an unnatural pallor to his face. Trying to avoid the wide pool of coagulating blood, Max knelt near the body and put his hand to the cold neck, but could feel no pulse.

Max stood slowly. The plan wasn’t all that sophisticated. Wipe his memory with drugs, give him no alibi. Or maybe they wanted him to come home and pass out with Werner Edwards dead in his living room. A variation on a theme—instead of simply beating him up to warn him off, kill the man with the real skinny and pin it on Max. If that was what they had in mind….

His next thought was answered by the sound of approaching sirens. Someone was watching his place, all right. Waiting for him to get home. He only had a few minutes.

With a clarity that was pure fear, he went to the bedroom and grabbed his laptop, the power cord, his cell phone. In the bathroom, he moved aside the false brick and took out his baggie full of disks. Then he stuffed some clean socks, his toothbrush, and a few other personal items into his duffle bag.

He moved hurriedly back to the living room and stood by the front door, trying to narrow his thinking to the basics. Was there anything else he might need soon? He’d have to head straight for the bank and get as much cash as possible. Beyond that…

Beyond that would have to wait. The sirens were too damn close.

“Goodbye, Werner.” Max looked sadly at his elder friend. “Damn, I’m sorry.” He closed the door and ran past the elevator to the stairway.

AT FOUR in the afternoon, in mid-December, the Senate Office Building was already lit up. The view from the fourth floor offices of the Honorable Senator William Parker granted Jade Parker a terrific view of the gridlocked traffic in the streets below. She watched impassively as behind her, her father attempted to exercise his considerable persuasive skills on her, with marginal success.

“Please, Jade. If you don’t do this for me, who will?”

Jade turned from the baleful view of dirty snow and snarled traffic and looked the senator straight in the eye. “Why not Gertie, Dad? All the other senators have their secretaries do their Christmas shopping. I’m your executive assistant, for God’s sake.”

Her father sighed as he closed the distance between them, raised his hands to put them on her shoulders but thought better of it. “C’mon, honey. Do you really think I should leave it to Gertie to decide what the ambassador from Germany would like? Remember what she bought the president for his birthday?”

Jade winced as she thought about the president’s expression when he’d opened up the gorgeously wrapped present. Being the consummate politician, he’d smiled, said he really liked the sweater, but even she, who hardly ever saw the man except on television, could tell he’d been appalled. With reason. But still…. “Do you suppose the ambassador celebrates Christmas at home? You’re just asking me because you don’t want to think about it.” She folded her arms across her breasts and turned back to the window.

She could see his frown in the reflection as he moved closer. So big and solid, his white hair a little messy, his silk tie slightly crooked, he looked as tired as she’d ever seen him. She almost stepped away when he wrapped his arms around her. “What is it, Jade? This isn’t like you.”

She stiffened, then relaxed into the comfort of his arms, letting her head lay back against his shoulder. “I don’t know, Dad. Finals, maybe. I keep thinking about Mom. I don’t know.”

He squeezed her lightly. “I miss her, too. That first Christmas after she died…”

Jade turned, gently moving out of his embrace. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s okay. It’s okay.” He patted her awkwardly. “Even after three years, it still seems like yesterday.”

They stood that way for a moment, each wrapped in their own memories. Jade stepped away, walked over to his desk and stared at his in-basket without focusing. “No, I’m sorry I said anything. That’s not the problem. None of that stuff is. I know you don’t want to hear it, but dammit, I’m still being followed. I’m sure of it.”

The senator walked over to her, his face, so familiar to millions of Americans, a study in concern. “The detective said—”

“The detective,” she said, angry all over again. “I know he’s supposed to be some kind of supersleuth, but he couldn’t have been sleuthing very diligently. The man had the audacity to suggest it was all in my head. I know it isn’t.”

“I believe you. I’ll get on the phone, talk to the head of the secret service. We’ll have someone new on the case first thing in the morning. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She picked up a snow globe of the U.S. Capitol, shaking it to mimic the weather outside. “I don’t know. Maybe it is nothing.”

The senator wasn’t amused. “I don’t believe that any more than you do. I’ll take care of it. I promise.” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “I’ve got a couple of hours of work left here, then that dinner with Jeffries. Why don’t you take off now. Go home. Maybe what you need is a quiet evening by the fire. Get a good night’s sleep.”

Jade kissed him on the cheek. “It’s a deal. But tell you what. I’ll stop at the Arlington Fashion Center Mall and get a head start on the shopping. From that list you slipped into my purse, it’s going to take me ’til next Christmas to get it all done.”

“Why don’t you wait until tomorrow, when we have someone we can trust watching your back.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“The presents aren’t that important.”

She smiled, even though the thought of battling the crowds made her want to buy herself a quick trip to Jamaica. “Right. Maybe next year we’ll find a professional shopper, huh?”

“It’s a deal.”

She got her purse from beside the wing chair, then pulled her coat from the rack. With a wave, she left the office and headed out to the mall, feeling better already that by tomorrow she’d have someone competent on her case.

JADE’S USUAL aggressiveness proved to be of marginal use in the crowded confines of the mall. In her heavy coat, clutching her purse tightly to her chest so pickpockets wouldn’t get into it, she pushed her way through the throngs of Christmas shoppers.

She briefly considered stopping in at The Coffee Beanery for a latte, but one look at the people packed in like sardines and she changed her mind.

Besides, that feeling was back. The one that made the small hairs at the back of her neck stand up. Several times she’d stopped, letting the crowds wash around her, and tried to catch a familiar reflection in the shop window. Or at least the same face twice. It never happened. Maybe she was nuts.

She shrugged it off and focused on some serious shopping. Just like last year, it was easier to buy for those people who were on the periphery of her father’s life, like the ambassador from Germany. The closer the circle got, the more personal the gift had to be, which was no piece of cake considering the disparity of the people involved.

She ended up finding her salvation at Hammacher Schlemmer, picking up a dozen tiny CD stereo systems, highly stylized, that could fit on any bookshelf. She also bought several back massagers, three facial saunas, and a couple of radio-controlled cars for her father’s more emotionally stunted friends. The real bonus about the store was that they would deliver the entire purchase to the Senate office, where she could deal with the wrapping, cards and mailing at her leisure.

She had to schlep all the other packages though, and as they piled up, she grew less careful about checking reflections. By the time she got into Saks, she was more concerned with juggling bags and credit cards and not being poked, prodded or stepped on by the other harried shoppers.

As she signed for a jeweled cigar cutter, she glanced at her watch. She’d been in the mall for nearly two hours. Enough. She’d had it for tonight. In fact, she’d had it with malls. She’d do the rest of her shopping online.

There’d been a time when Christmas shopping had been fun, but that was when her mother had come with her. Jade headed toward the mall exit, thinking about that last Christmas—

A thought stopped her so sharply, the man behind her stepped on her heel. She heard his low curse, but she didn’t care. The feeling she’d been having this week. Could it possibly be memories of her mother?

Too pragmatic to believe in ghosts or spirits, Jade did believe that the mind was a powerful, mysterious thing. That the subconscious could play mighty tricks on the conscious. It was all too possible that she missed her mother so much that she’d conjured up the feeling of being watched. Although she’d ascribed fear to the experience, now that she understood it, that could change. She could gain comfort, instead.

She reshuffled the bags in her arms and continued toward the parking lot, wrestling with this new idea. Wondering if she should look up Doctor Frankle. She’d been a good therapist, not too heavy-handed, definitely not Freudian. Jade had seen her for eight months, after a terrible breakup and while deciding about getting her Ph.D. At the end of their time together, Jade had felt better, stronger. It wouldn’t hurt to go for that feeling again.

As she exited the wide glass doors, she noticed two different Santas, complete with bells and donation buckets in front of them. Since she gave at the office and had no desire to disrupt the carefully constructed conglomerate of packages in her arms, she headed up the middle, eyes straight ahead.

She passed the gauntlet unscathed and made it to the massive parking lot without dislodging so much as a ribbon. Unfortunately, she’d parked in what felt like another county, and her right arm was already feeling numb.

The only good thing about parking so far in the hinterlands was the relative quiet. She’d never cared for crowds, and with all that was on her mind, they’d been particularly annoying in the mall. All she had to think about now was negotiating the traffic home. Then it would be a roaring fire, sinfully buttered popcorn and movies, movies, movies.

Too bad her father had that dinner. It would have been nice to have a quiet evening with him, although he never did make it through the movies. He always talked about watching, but nothing held his attention. Not for two hours, that was for sure. Halfway through, he’d make up some excuse, like getting a drink, checking something from the office or even going to the bathroom. He always promised to come right back, but he never did. She’d stopped trying to change his ways.

He’d been like that forever, his fertile mind filled with his duties, his constituents, his campaigns. She couldn’t blame him. He was definitely playing in the big leagues, and she realized it was a lot to ask him to relax, but she couldn’t help her worry.

Ever since her mother died, he’d been running himself ragged. He worked impossible hours and ate horribly. The only reason he wasn’t big as a horse was that he walked every day, mostly on the Hill. But still, his color wasn’t good, and his hair, always his pride and joy, was thinning and dull. She’d begged him to get a full physical, but he kept putting it off.

That’s what he could get her for Christmas. The thought of losing him, too, was entirely too much to bear, and she would manipulate his emotions mercilessly until he gave in.

She saw her car, finally, just a few aisles away. Rounding a pylon, she practically ran into a third Santa Claus. She gasped, almost losing her armload from the surprise. She stepped to her right just as he stepped to his left. Her smile died on her lips, however, when she looked more carefully at his face.

He stared at her with intense, bloodshot eyes, and his expression was anything but jovial. Her heart kicked into double-time as she realized he wasn’t just another store Santa.

“Ms. Parker,” he said.

That did it. How did he know her name? She looked to her right, her left, but there was no one nearby. Someone had to be around, for God’s sake.

“Please, don’t be scared, I just want to talk to you.”

She checked to her left once more, tried to feint to her right. But his hand caught her arm, and his grip held her firm. She opened her mouth to scream, but the move came too late. His hand, thick, clammy, covered her mouth, the hand on her arm pulling her farther into the recesses of the garage.

She struggled against him, but he kept maneuvering her past cars, toward her SUV. God, he knew her car! She hadn’t been crazy, or nostalgic for her mother. This maniac had been following her, stalking her, and now…

She remembered in a vivid flash the most serious admonition given to every woman: don’t let the abductor get you into the car. The chances of surviving were minimal once he got you away from people, from crowds.

She kicked his leg, and his grunt let her know she’d made an impact, but it wasn’t enough. His grip didn’t loosen. In fact, his hand tightened brutally.

They got to the SUV and she heard something behind her, a car door closing. She tried to twist around, but he pushed up against her back, his warm breath and scratchy white beard tickling her neck.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you as long as you stay quiet. I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth. I have a gun, and I have nothing to lose by shooting you.”

A gun. Oh, God. She was going to die. She thought of the mace in her purse, and it might have been on the moon for all the help it did her. She should have just dropped her packages and run at the first hint of trouble, but she’d clung to the stupid gifts as if they mattered.

As promised, his hand moved from her mouth, and just as she was about to scream, regardless of his threat, she felt something hard and round poke into her side. It was a weapon. Nothing else could feel like that. If she screamed, she died. If she held on, there was always a chance she could escape.

“Good girl,” he said, his lips so close to her ear it made her wince. “I’m going to take your purse now. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Fine. Take it. Take the money. There are credit cards. You can take it all.”

He didn’t respond. Just lifted the purse from her grasp. The gun still poked her side. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she knew that he wouldn’t have to look hard for her keys. She kept them in the outside pocket so she herself wouldn’t have to dig for them. Stupid. Another bonehead move. She lived in D.C., for God’s sake, one of the most dangerous cities in America, and she walked around like she was invincible. Even after she’d sensed someone was stalking her.

He unlocked the car electronically, then pulled her back so he could open the back door. “Put the packages in the back seat.”

She did as he said.

He opened the front door. “Get in.”

She did, searching frantically for something to use as a weapon.

He’d already figured this part out, because the second she was behind the wheel, he captured her hands, held her wrists with one hand while he tied them together with a thick blue scarf. Then he tied that to the wheel.

A moment later, he ran around the car. She pulled at her restraint, tried to move so that at the very least she could honk the horn, but then he was beside her. Him and the gun.

“I won’t hurt you. Just listen to me. I’m going to untie you. You’re going to drive away from here. Don’t panic, and don’t try anything stupid, and we’ll both get out of this alive.” He stuck her key in the ignition and undid the bindings. “Start it up. Now.”

With trembling fingers, she turned the key. From her peripheral vision, she saw him toss the Santa hat and the ridiculous beard into the back seat. His hair was dark, his skin, pale. She was afraid to look at him directly, afraid that if he realized she could identify him, he’d have no reason to let her go.

“That way,” he said, pointing with his free hand toward the east exit.

She checked her mirror, then, without even thinking about it, she turned his way, and something registered. She’d seen him before. Recently.

“Drive.”

She focused on her speed, direction and the gun he held so steadily he couldn’t possibly miss. But the face haunted her. Where had she— “You’re that reporter. You killed that old man.”

He grunted. “Yeah. I’m that reporter.”

Max Travis. His name made everything else fall into place. All the reports on the news, in the paper. He was a lunatic, and he’d already murdered once. Twice wouldn’t make him blink an eye.

“You can’t get away with this,” she said, hoping her voice sounded a lot stronger than she felt.

“I already have.”

Chapter Two

“Where are we going?” Jade was scared, but kept her fear under control. If she was to escape this ordeal alive, she would have to be ready to flee at the first opportunity.

“Shut up. Turn right here.” The gun in Max’s hand never wavered. Damn that CSI show—she could picture the bullet entering her body, tracing a path to her heart… Her purse lay at his feet, so she couldn’t get to her cell phone or the mace.

“Can’t we talk about this?”

“No. Head for I-95.”

Jade threaded her way through the streets of Arlington for the highway, fully aware that it headed for either Washington or deeper into Virginia. She considered faking a skid on the snow-swept streets, but the gun could go off in a crash.

“Get on here,” Max said, waving the gun toward the southbound on-ramp.

She swung onto the highway, merged with the traffic and accelerated into the blowing snow. She reached to turn the heater up and Max’s nervous twitch reminded her that she was being kidnapped by a cold-blooded killer.

She tried to recall what she’d heard about the man on the news—pitifully little, actually—that might help her reason with him. He was a reporter for the Washington Post. He’d done some big stories, some undercover work. He’d even been up for a Pulitzer. For unknown reasons, he’d brutally murdered an older man, a friend of his father’s and an important man at Geotech, an energy and mining company large enough to change the course of the nation for years. Even the FBI, often loathe to meddle with the D.C. police, was involved in the hunt for this man. His father said the murder was totally uncharacteristic, that Werner Edwards was a family friend. He swore Max would be exonerated.

Oh yeah, she felt much better now. All his neighbors probably thought he was a real nice guy. Never hurt a fly.

“Pull off at the next exit.”

“We’re going to Springfield?”

“Just pull off.”

Jade did as she was told, and Max directed her through turn after turn around the suburban streets.

She watched him as closely as she could as he divided his attention between her and the streets, peering out between the gusts of snow, then back at her. “Stop. Stop here.”

Again, she did as she was told, pulling behind a black SUV on a quiet, windblown street.

“Turn the car off.”

She did, her hand shaking, her heart in her throat. Was this the end? Was he going to kill her here? In the middle of suburbia?

From beside him, on top of the Santa suit, Max withdrew the blue scarf. “Crawl through to the back seat and lay down.”

“No. Please.”

He waved the gun at her, a new sense of urgency and desperation to his moves. She obeyed, the fear making her clumsy. She finally made it to the back seat where he forced her to kneel on the floor. “Put your hands behind your back.”

“Don’t hurt me. My father can help you—”

“Your father’s the reason you’re here.”

“My father? What does he—”

“Put your damn hands behind your back.”

The seats pressed into her stomach as she worked her arms around until her hands were in the small of her back, and Max tied them tightly. “Lay down on the seat.”

“I can’t.”

Max grunted and opened the door. As the cold swept across her bare legs, Jade realized how exposed she was, but he quickly closed it, then opened the rear door. He tossed the presents into the back with his free hand. Once the seat was cleared, he pulled her roughly onto the cushions and pulled off the thick black belt from his Santa suit. He used it to tie her ankles together.

“One more thing,” he said and pulled a neckerchief from his pocket.

“No.”

“I can’t have you scream.” He crawled onto the seat with her. He didn’t hurt her, in fact, he moved carefully, making sure his knee was on the seat and not her body, but the closeness, his proximity, made her flesh crawl and it was all she could do not to pass out.

He forced the cloth between her teeth and tied it behind her head. “I’m going to be out of the car for a few minutes, but I’ll be watching you. Don’t be stupid.” Max waved the gun in front of Jade’s terrified eyes, then slammed the door.

As she lay face down on the back seat, the sound of his footsteps disappeared rapidly in the winter wind. She tested her bonds, but whatever other flaws Max might have, tying knots badly was not among them.

She tried squirming around so she could push herself upright against a door, but the necessary movement caused both her coat and her dress to ride up her thighs, and she felt horribly vulnerable, so she lay quietly and tried to think of a way to escape.

She heard scraping at the back of the car, but couldn’t tell what it was.

The mace and her phone were so close, and yet there was no possibility of getting them. No one knew where she was. The moronic detective had stopped tailing her. Her father wouldn’t even miss her for a few more hours, and then what? They’d look at the mall, but had anyone seen her abduction? The crowds that had been so pressing inside the stores had vanished in the far reaches of the parking garage, so she couldn’t count on any witnesses. Even if they had seen her, she’d been kidnapped by Santa Claus. She doubted they’d even start looking for her car for hours, and with this snow…

Overwhelmed, frightened beyond any kind of reason, she blinked frantically as hot tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, God, at least she wanted to see. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

The driver’s door opened with another blast of cold wind and gusting snow. She heard his coat rustle, the SUV tip slightly with his weight. Then his voice. “You okay?”

She tried to tell him she was not okay, that she’d never be okay again, but she couldn’t with the gag in her mouth.

He turned on the interior light and looked over the seats at her.

All she could do was blink, trying to clear her vision.

“Legs cold?” he asked.

That startled her. What the hell did he care if she were cold? She didn’t want to answer, but the fact was, her legs were freezing. She nodded once, then turned her head so she faced the back of the seat.

She heard the rustle of cloth, then her coat slipped down to mid-calf. More rustling, then more of her legs were covered. She twisted around so she could glance down, and saw the red of the Santa suit across her ankles.

He started the car, slowly edged into the street. As he drove, she shifted on the seat until, when she craned her neck, she could just see out the top of the side window. She tried to guess where they were from her limited field of vision but it was useless, and she quit trying. She needed to conserve her energy. He had to stop sometime.

She tried to focus on sounds, anything at all familiar, but the big luxury car had been designed to keep traffic noise out. All she could tell was when they got on the highway again, by the speed of the car and the occasional sound of a truck going by.

Time crawled by as he drove and drove, and every minute seemed to reveal a new ache, a new pain, a new terrifying facet of her situation. Her arms cramped in the unnatural position and no matter how she lifted them, shifted them, the pain just worsened. Even her ankles hurt, as the edge of the thick belt chafed.

Her ribs hurt, her head throbbed, and she’d gotten stuffed up from crying and had to struggle for breath beyond the gag in her mouth.

It felt as if she would surely die from the fear, if nothing else. Image after image of what he could do to her flooded her brain, only to be followed by vivid mental pictures of her father hearing the news that she was dead.

A lurch, and her eyes opened.

God, she’d slept. It seemed impossible. But she had slept, for how long, she had no clue.

She realized that the very absence of noise and motion was what had awakened her. The driver’s side door opened and her kidnapper got out, then the rear door opened and she once again felt cold air on her legs.

“Just a second and I’ll have your legs untied,” he said. She felt him fumbling with the belt, but was still unable to answer with the gag in her mouth.

With her legs free, he awkwardly helped her out of the back seat. Once she was standing, he undid the gag.

She swallowed several times, moved her aching jaw. She wished her hands were free because she felt so unsteady. “Where are we?”

“Someplace safe. Come on.” He took hold of her arm and pulled her along, at first quickly, but after she stumbled, he slowed the pace. He opened a door, and the light temporarily blinded her.

“I don’t feel safe,” she said. She blinked her eyes several times as they adjusted to the light. She took in her surroundings.

They stood in a large one-room cabin. There was a kitchenette to their right, a small table with four chairs around it, a desk against the wall to the left below a small window. On the other side, a half wall blocked her view of what she assumed was the bathroom. Across the room a double bed complete with a brass headboard sat below a second window. The door behind her led to the enclosed garage.

The decor was simple, rustic. Wood dominated everything, including the floor, which only had a few area rugs to lend warmth. There were two pictures on the wall, but they were both landscapes, nothing that would give her a clue as to the personality of the man who’d kidnapped her. It was neat, tidy, but it felt like it was more of a vacation cabin than a real home.

Max quickly shed the remains of his Santa outfit to reveal a pair of gray slacks to go with his light blue dress shirt. He recovered his gun from the kitchen counter and came back to Jade. “Turn around.”

She did so, facing the wall, and he untied her hands, then pulled off her coat.

“Go sit at the desk.”

“Why? You need some typing or something? I don’t—”

He poked her with the gun barrel. “Just do it.” She walked to the desk chair, and Max pulled it around so it faced the room. “Sit. Put your arms on the rests.”

She did, and using both the blue scarf and the rope he expertly tied her to the chair. He put the gun on the table and moved to the sink. “Do you want some water?”

Her mouth was terribly dry. An almost metallic aftertaste reminded her of the gag, the terror of feeling so helpless. Water wouldn’t fix that, but she was thirsty. “Please.”

She watched as he got a glass and filled it. He looked harried. With one hand, he grabbed one of the chairs from the small table. He set it down with the back toward her, straddled the seat and tilted the glass to her lips so she could drink.

She gulped awkwardly, spilling a thin stream of liquid down her chin. She had to turn her head when she was through and more water dripped down to her dress. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment despite the illogic. It wasn’t her fault she was tied up like this.

He set the glass on the desk, then walked over to the fireplace on the opposite wall. The wood had already been laid, kindling and all, and it took him only a moment to get a nice blaze going. He stared at the fire as it swelled, then walked back to where she sat. He knelt in front of her. She tried to scoot back until he slipped off one of her shoes, then the other. He stood, his expression somehow scarier because of its neutrality, walked back to the fireplace and put her shoes on the hearth. “They’ll warm up soon,” he said.

The act unsettled her as much as anything had. This odd, desperate man who’d kidnapped her at gunpoint was concerned about her feet being cold?

He joined her again, sitting on the other chair with his arms folded across the back.

“Look, I hadn’t planned this.”

“Yeah. Right. You just happened to have rope and scarves in your suit. What do you want? Money? I can get—”

“I don’t want your money. I told you that at the mall.” Max shifted his gaze to the wall behind her, his face losing all expression. What remained was exhaustion, worry. Fear.

“Then why? What the hell do you want from me? Are you some kind of pervert or something?”

Max laughed weakly. “Well, I’m not this kinky. I just—I’m at the end of my rope.” He shifted his gaze back to meet hers, and for the first time she really noticed how blue his eyes were. Despite the fact that they were so bloodshot. His left eye even had a tiny twitch.

“Why did you kill that old man?”

“I didn’t kill him. Werner was like an uncle to me.” He briefly closed his eyes and the grief shadowing his face surprised her. Or was it guilt?

“Then why not turn yourself in? Look, if I get home safely, I’ll just forget all this—unpleasantness. My father has some power in D.C. We could help—”

Max stood, almost knocking his chair over. “Your father is the reason I’m in this mess.”

He’d mentioned that before. Obviously he was unbalanced and she needed to tread lightly. She made sure her voice was soft, non-threatening. “What are you talking about?”

Max paced the small room like a tiger in a cage. “Your father. And Geotech. Christ, I’ve tried everything. Even my own editor can’t wait to see my head on a pike outside the city walls. You have to know the senator is in it up to his eyeballs. I know you two work together, that you’re his assistant. So please, do us both a favor and cut the bewildered act.”

If Jade could have faded into the desk chair, she would have. She was stunned by the vehemence in his voice. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

He stopped in the middle of a frenzied stride and looked at her. His shoulders slumped as he ran both hands through his dark hair.

Staring at her, measuring her, obviously wondering if he should believe her, his lips curved in a wry smile, and he sat on his chair again. “If you’re lying you’re damn good at it.”

“I’m not lying.”

That smile again, mellowed with a sadness that was palpable. “When your father first got on the Ways and Means committee, Geotech was a relatively small company, but with big ambitions. Their basic approach was deals and mergers, lots of investor cash, but few real assets. They approached Senator Parker for political assistance, but he turned them down cold, unsure of their stability, and unwilling to expose himself and the country to the risk.”

Jade remembered that time. Mom had still been alive, and there had been lively discussions about the viability of the company. Her dad had been dubious about their entire approach. “Okay, so what’s that got to do with murder and kidnapping?”

“Flash forward a few years. Geotech found the support they wanted in Texas. Their stock flew out of the brokerages at ever higher prices, and they rapidly became a more-or-less respected organization, one of, if not the, biggest energy brokers in the country.

“Meanwhile, your father became more powerful, wielding the kind of influence that gets bills passed. Then your mother died.”

“My mother?”

His mouth curved in an apologetic smile. “She’s only relevant because your father’s grief made him an easy target for Geotech. He started gambling, which Geotech was happy to exploit. They made sure your father would gamble to his heart’s content. And now he owes them somewhere in the arena of ten million dollars, peanuts compared to the hundreds of millions the new energy bill is worth to them. Now they’re blackmailing him for his vote.”

“That’s a lie.” Jade’s hands shook at the thought. “Dad would never submit to that kind of blackmail. Which is irrelevant because he doesn’t gamble and would never have incurred that kind of debt.”

Max smiled at her, his gaze assessing her carefully. “A man will do almost anything to protect his name and reputation.”

She shuddered, his message not lost on her. “You are crazy. I’m Dad’s executive assistant. There’s no way he’d be that deep in the hole without me knowing about it.”

“Right.” Max’s smile faded to grimness. “I figure you’re either unaware of his problem, or you don’t know what to do about it.”

“No. You’re wrong about this. And what’s that got to do with that old man you killed?”

Max leaned forward. “I told you. I didn’t kill him. Werner was finally persuaded to be on the board at Geotech, and when he found out what was going on, he talked to my dad and then to me. He knew all about your father’s debt, the gambling. And that Geotech wasn’t above blackmail. That’s why he was killed.”

Exhaustion suddenly swept through Jade. Max was obviously one of those people who had seen so many bad things that he’d been overwhelmed, seeing conspiracy everywhere. She doubted he would listen to reason. “I see.”

Max met her gaze. “You remember something?”

She saw a flash of reason in his eyes and hope boosted her spirits. “There’s probably a bunch of stuff I missed on my dad’s computer. You know, if we just went to the Senate Office Building, we could probably…”

“Damn it.” Max stood and swept his chair over with one angry wave of his hand.

Jade cringed. Had she pushed him over whatever edge of sanity remained?

“You’re good, lady.”

“What do you mean?”

Max glared at her, his desperation obvious. “I’m not stupid, Jade. You will tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know anything other than that you’re wrong. My father is an honest, hard-working public servant. He would never allow himself to be compromised.”

He snorted. Shaking his head, he walked to the television and turned it on.

“You know, if you untie me, I’ll be a lot more likely to listen to reason.”

“Right.” Max moved to the refrigerator and opened it, the commercial for maxi-pads coming from the TV as incongruous as it was uncomfortable. “You have a choice between the frozen fried chicken, or the frozen meat loaf dinner.” He opened the packages and put them in the oven.

“Super.” Jade shifted uncomfortably. “Uh—Max? I could use a bathroom visit.”

He looked at her for a moment as if he didn’t believe her. But after a sigh, he came to her chair. “Yeah, okay.” He untied her and with a hand on her elbow, escorted her to the bathroom.

“Thanks.” She stepped inside and reached to close the door, but he stopped it with his hand.

“Don’t be long.”

“I wanted to wash up a bit.”

His gaze swept the small bathroom, lingering on the useless miniscule window, and then he gave her a curt nod.

She closed the door, sank against it and sighed. Decorated in the same rustic fashion as the rest of the cabin, the bathroom walls were paneled wood. Two pictures hung above the commode, both antique prints of Victorian women on washday. The sink had a rust stain running under the spigot, but it looked clean enough. The floor, a spotted linoleum, had two area rugs, both in a shaggy brown. Sure enough, there was no way out other than the door.

She turned the water on in the sink and used the sound to cover a quick search of the medicine cabinet and drawers, but there was nothing that she could use as a weapon. Only a few personal items: aspirin, a comb, toothpaste, some new toothbrushes, floss. The only razor was electric, and she doubted she could shave him into letting her go.

Hurriedly, she washed her hands and face.

She turned the water off and, through the thin wall, heard Max moving about in the kitchen. If she could get to the car and get her cell phone…

As cautiously as she could, she opened the bathroom door and crouched behind the half wall. The door to the garage was only a few feet away. She hadn’t noticed before, but the wood floors were cold. Her toes, encased in nothing but panty hose, curled.

She started when Max called out. “How you doing in there?”

She held her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound and said, “Fine. Out in a minute.” With her heart pounding so loudly she was surprised he couldn’t hear it, she detected movement near the stove. If he stepped out past the wall, there was nowhere to hide.

She made the mad dash, holding her breath, and reached for the doorknob, turned it. The door opened silently and she edged into the darkness of the garage and held the door until it closed.

The cold concrete was worse than the floor inside and she stumbled forward until she bumped into the car. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but she thought he’d dropped her purse on the floor on the front passenger side.

With shaking fingers, she felt her way around the car. The hood still held a hint of warmth from their trip, but the rest of the metal was cold.

When she reached the passenger door, she touched the frigid handle and took a deep breath. She planned her actions—open the door, climb in and hit the locks, then grab the purse, dig out the cell phone and dial 911. The Virginia police could triangulate the phone, and she could hold Max off with the mace.

She let her breath out with a whoosh and opened the door.

As it registered that there was nothing at all on the floor of the car, the garage suddenly flooded with light. Max stood in the doorway, her purse in one hand and the gun in the other, pointed right at her head.

His eyes were more sad than angry, and so was his voice, when he said, “Are you looking for this?”

Chapter Three

Dinner was a glum affair. Max had hauled a pair of handcuffs from his luggage, and Jade found herself eating her meat loaf dinner with only her right hand, her left shackled to the chair arm. She was aware that Max had stuck his gun under his butt, where he could grab it if she made so much as a move. Despite her attempts to get him talking, he’d been sullen and silent since he’d pulled her in from the garage.

Max, looking even more haggard, gnawed at the fried chicken. He avoided her glances. The television droned in the background.

She ate, even though the meal tasted like cardboard. She hadn’t had a TV dinner in years, but they couldn’t actually taste this awful. Fear tainted everything, including her taste buds.

As she forced another spoonful of mashed potatoes in her mouth, Jade noticed there was a third fork partially hidden by a stack of paper napkins. It wasn’t much, but it was something. If she could get it. She pushed her cup forward. “Could I have more coffee?”

Max grabbed her cup and went behind the counter to fill it. “That’s one Sweet ’n Low?”

“Please.” She was surprised he’d remembered, but it didn’t slow her down as she grabbed the extra fork and slid it uncomfortably in her bra. She had to push it to the side so it wouldn’t be noticeable, and it poked her just under the armpit.

Max set the cup near her and resumed his seat, eating silently and staring at the table.

“You can’t blame me for trying to escape.”

Max looked at her, bleary-eyed. “No, I can’t.

“I could get you money, legal help.”

Max laughed wryly. “How long have you been in D.C., Jade?”

“My whole life, basically.”

“And you’ve been around politics all that time, right? Directly involved for what, ten years or so?”

“What’s your point?”

“I’ve kidnapped a senator’s daughter. The odds of my getting a break legally lie between zero and none. Even presuming you’re not lying, the best I could hope for would be not getting shot as I turned myself in. Not to mention that if the Geotech people think you’re working with me now, I’ve endangered your life, too.” He stared at his plate for a long moment, then looked back at her. “If you are innocent in all this I’m sorry for that part.”

“Aren’t you being a little melodramatic?”

“C’mon, Jade. Money and power is what drives the government. Why would a man making millions run for president to make a couple hundred thousand a year? Power. Your father’s also a powerful man, and there are hundreds of millions riding on his vote. Hell, wars have been started just so people could make money. What’s a few deaths to these people?”

Jade shook her head vehemently. “You don’t know my dad.”

“I wouldn’t count on that. At the very least, I know another side of him.” Max put his fork down and pushed away his half-finished meal. “Tell you what. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Tomorrow I’ll show you what evidence I have. It’s enough to at least make you listen.”

“Why tomorrow? Show me now.” Of course she still didn’t believe he had anything that would indict her father, but if she could keep him talking, gain his trust…

“No, we both need to get some rest.”

Jade craned her neck uncomfortably to look over her shoulder at the single bed, the fork digging into her side. “Uh, about that. I’m assuming there isn’t a guest house? A separate bedroom in the attic?”

“We’re stuck together.” Max looked at the double bed, then back to Jade. “I told you before. This wasn’t planned. I wanted to talk to you.”

She jiggled her shackled wrist. “So you just happen to have handcuffs in case of random kidnapping emergencies?”

He met her gaze again. “I got them in a sex shop when I did a story a few years ago. It was about suburban kink.”

“Oh boy. I feel much better now.”

“Don’t worry. I’m way too tired to bother you even if I wanted to. Hell, I’ve been following you for two weeks.”

“I had the feeling someone was stalking me.”

“Stalking.” He winced. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“I have news for you, Max. Kidnapping sounds a lot worse.”

“Kidnapping. Murder.” He laughed, a hollow sound. “You’re my only hope. How’s that for ironic?”

“I see your point, but I swear, I can’t help you.”

“No?”

She sighed with disgust. Delusional but earnest, she’d give him that. But his conviction made him dangerous and she had to remember that, too. “How did you avoid the detective?”

“Some of it was luck. But I’ve been an investigative reporter for a long time. Generally I know what I’m doing. Although for the past few weeks, I’ve felt as if I’m in a David Cronenberg film. Very Kafkaesque, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I’m a little out of my reality zone, myself. I should be home, wrapping presents. Sipping a cup of sugar-free cocoa.”

He looked over at her TV dinner, shook his head. Opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he got up, tossed his dinner in the trash bag under the sink and then unlocked the handcuffs.

When she stood, he moved the chair in front of the television and then re-cuffed her. Then he pulled the desk chair next to her so that her cuffed hand was closest to him. He looked tired, exhausted. As if he wouldn’t make it through the opening headlines. “Pay attention,” he said yawning. “Maybe you’ll catch your fifteen minutes of fame.”

Her interest piqued. God, she hoped it had been reported that she was missing. “Just for my own edification, how long do you plan to hold me prisoner?” she asked, her attention fully on the tube.

“As long as it takes me to prove Geotech paid off your father and give the cops another direction.”

“Besides you.”

“Wait.” Max raised his hand as his image appeared on the screen.

“…new development in the Werner Edwards murder that shocked the capital.”

His picture flashed on the screen. He looked like a normal guy, a nice-looking man, in fact. Not in the least crazy.

“Nice pic,” Jade said.

“Hush.”

“Travis is accused of breaking into Washington Post security files. Coworkers still maintain his innocence, although his editor admitted that his fleeing did look suspicious. In other news…”

Max got up and turned the television off. “Damn it. I’ve got to call Herb.”

“Leave it on.”

He frowned. “Obviously they don’t know I’ve grabbed you, or they would have reported it. They’ve accused me of everything else.”

“Yeah, but don’t you want to know if they’ve discovered I’m missing?” He flipped the television back on, but there was no mention of Jade. When the broadcast turned to sports, he shut it off.

Jade sighed. She’d been tired when she’d left the office—God, was it only a few hours ago? Now she was exhausted. She was painfully aware of the fork secreted in her bra and felt she had only enough energy for one more escape attempt.

Max stood mutely for a few seconds, then turned to his open suitcase. He pulled out a set of men’s blue flannel pajamas. “Here.” He dumped the top in her lap.

She looked at the lanky, muscular man standing tiredly before her, then at the flannel pajama top. “What about the bottoms?”

“This is all I have.” One side of his mouth lifted. “Unless you want me to sleep naked.”

Damned if she’d take the bait. She rattled the handcuffs. “I’m not sure this is gonna work.”

He hesitated, his mouth settling in a grim line before he undid the cuffs and hung them on the arm of the desk chair.

Jade rubbed her wrist, picked up the pajama top and headed slowly for the bathroom with Max close behind her. She stood in the doorway and looked at him. “Can I take a shower?”

He gave her a long hard look. “Pull another stunt like you did earlier and you stay cuffed, period.”

Holding her tongue, she closed the door. As soon as she stood alone in the tiny bathroom, she pulled the fork from her bra and set it on the sink. She took a deep breath and tried to relax.

Okay, she’d have to at least run the shower, or he’d get suspicious. What the hell, it might wake her up. She looked around for a hanger, but of course there wasn’t one.

There was, however, a hook on the back of the door, and Jade stripped off her clothes and hung them up. There were two bath towels on the rack, and she wrapped one around herself then quickly brushed her teeth, as aware that her kidnapper was standing only a few feet away as if there were a window in the door. She stepped to the shower and adjusted the water.

MAX LEANED AGAINST the wall opposite the bathroom door. He closed his eyes, listening to her move behind the thin walls and thinner door of the bathroom. Oddly, he got a little excited imagining how she looked as she hung her clothes on the back of the door. When the water began in the shower, his thoughts took an even more vivid turn. He pictured her bending over, turning the faucets…

He shook off the thought, angry at himself and his idiot libido. To say now was not the time was a major understatement. Five minutes, ten, and he could finally sleep. Christ, maybe it had been a mistake, grabbing her. He should have just let Peter keep digging.

Too late for should haves. He’d run out of options. She was his only hope, and, assuming she wasn’t up to her eyeballs in it, she had to believe him. He wished he had more.

None of it mattered to Werner. Or his wife. His grandchildren. They’d lost him, all because Werner had tried to do the right thing. Max was sure the man had had evidence. He wouldn’t have approached Max on a hunch alone.

But now his own course was set. Tomorrow, if not tonight, the powers-that-be would realize Jade was missing and that his car had been abandoned in the mall parking lot.

And he thought things were bad now.

Max laughed without humor. He wished he could call his father and reassure him, but even if the police hadn’t tapped that phone yet, Geotech probably had.

The sound of the shower lulled him, and he let his eyes close again, imagining the steam rising from Jade’s shoulders, her wet hair streaming darkly across her breasts….

His eyes clicked open and he realized the shower was no longer running. He’d fallen asleep standing up and had no idea how long he’d been out of it. At least the bathroom door was still closed.

He heard her move around, probably drying herself, then slipping into the pajama top. He should give her the bottoms, too. Hell, he didn’t need the distraction of her long bare legs.

The door opened, and he had a view of green eyes surrounded by dark ringlets of damp hair, surprisingly tanned flesh and the soft curve of breasts peeking from the V-neck of his pajamas. He blinked at the vision as she drove forward with all her strength, slamming him against the wall and stabbing at his face with a fork.

Max’s left hand came up reflexively and the four tines dug into his forearm. He swung his right fist upward, caught himself at the last second and grabbed her wrist, then twisted until she let go of her makeshift weapon with a sharp animal cry.

Ignoring his pain, he grabbed her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder, then carried her across the room as he felt her stretch to reach the gun at his waist. He threw her on the bed, then turned and smoothly plucked the handcuffs from the chair arm and turned back to her.

Jade scrambled to regain her feet, but he pushed her back onto the bed and straddled her, fighting for control of her left arm. She tried to hit him again, but he managed to secure one cuff on her wrist and quickly snapped the other end to the brass headboard, then stood, panting, as she struggled for a second and then gave up in despair.

“Please,” she said, gasping for air.

His eyes dark with fury, his breathing ragged, he said, “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

MAX CAME OUT of the bathroom bare-chested, a strip of fabric tied clumsily around his arm, the gun in his other hand. The pajama bottoms rode low on his hips, and his stomach was flat and well defined.

Although he still had a five-o-clock shadow, she could see that his chin was a strong support for the rest of his face and that even haggard, he was a good-looking guy.

He eyed her intently, then walked to the other side of the room to the table. After a moment’s hesitation he put the gun down. Running a hand through his dark wet locks, he approached her as she lay on her side on the bed. Anger lingered in his gaze as it locked with hers.

“Sit up.”

“Why? What are you going to do?”

His look made her struggle to a sitting position, her heart pounding, her breath trapped in her throat. She knew she’d really pissed him off. “What are you going to do?”

“Frisk you.”

She swallowed, trying to clear the way for air. “I don’t have anything else. No weapons. No forks.”

“For your sake, I hope not.”

“This is hardly necessary.” She mumbled as he placed his hands on her shoulders, then eased them down to her ribcage. She held her breath as his fingers grazed the outside curves of her breasts.

Her face heated as he continued his search, touching her sides, her back, the curve of her behind.

“Okay,” he said, stepping back and yanking down the covers. “Go ahead and lie down.”

“But I—”

“That wasn’t a request.” His mouth set in a grim line, he hardly looked receptive to argument.

She did as he asked and, to her surprise, he tucked the covers around her shoulders. She stayed quiet and watched him move about the small area, turning off lights, then saw him approach as a darker shadow in the night. He crawled across her, touching her as little as possible, and snuggled in under the covers himself.

She shrunk away from him but he didn’t seem to notice. In seconds his breathing slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep.

Sleep refused to come so easily to her. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, replaying the day in her mind, wondering if she couldn’t have done something, anything to have stopped this before it had started.

She wondered if her father was still awake. He’d undoubtedly missed her when she hadn’t returned to the house. Had he called the police? The FBI? Had he told them she’d been stalked?

She peered over at the man beside her. What if Max Travis wasn’t the madman he appeared to be? Despite her escape attempts, he hadn’t molested her or really harmed her in any way.

Once they were in the cabin, she hadn’t felt terribly threatened. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense. She’d read about Stockholm Syndrome, where kidnap victims came to display a strange association with their captors, identifying with them while fearing those who sought to end their captivity. Only, that tended to happen after a much longer period of captivity.

The thing was, she knew Max had his facts all screwed up, but if he truly believed what he was telling her, then his actions made a kind of twisted sense. Of course her father wasn’t involved in any gambling and he certainly wasn’t being blackmailed. The only reason she could possibly come up with to lend credence to Max’s accusations was the fact that her father had shifted his opinion on Geotech. With his change of heart, the rest of the committee was certain to give the massive energy contract to the company.

Although she’d been surprised by his actions, it wasn’t unprecedented. As her dad had explained, he’d done more research and when he’d learned more about the company, he’d decided to change his position. It was one of the great things about him, his willingness to learn, to change, to admit publicly that he had made too quick a judgment. But to someone on the outside, who didn’t understand his integrity, it could look suspicious.

Tomorrow, Max was going to show her his evidence. She’d use the opportunity to enlighten him about her father. If she was reasonable, listened respectfully, perhaps Max would come around. She still wasn’t sure he hadn’t killed his father’s friend, so she’d have to watch her step, but he hadn’t acted like a psycho or anything. Delusional, yes. Dangerous? The jury was still out, but her instincts said no.

Then again, Ted Bundy had supposedly been a real charming guy.

Ah, hell, she was too exhausted to think. She tried to listen for the sounds of distant traffic, but could hear nothing but a faraway airplane. And Max’s breathing.

She snuggled down under the covers, a breath away from him, his heat helping to warm her. Tonight she’d force herself to sleep. Tomorrow there’d be another chance for escape.

Chapter Four

Light. Almost blinding light. And something else—her bladder ached. God, she shouldn’t have had that last cup of coffee.

She started to get out of bed and remembered—the abduction, her escape attempts, the handcuffs.

Max.

She rolled as best she could and poked him in the ribs with her free hand. “Max. Wake up.”

He snorted and turned his back to her.

She poked him again, hard. “Max. Damn it. Wake up.”

He rolled back toward her, shading his eyes from the onslaught of light. “Huh?” He blinked several times as though he, too, were catching up on recent events.

“If you don’t get me to the bathroom in a very short time, we’re both going to be sorry.”

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, and Jade stared at his bare chest, sharply defined pecs, a light mat of curly black chest hair.

“C’mon. Move it.”

“Okay, okay.” He pushed the covers down and crawled across her, landing on the throw rug next to the bed. From there he stumbled to the chair where he’d draped yesterday’s clothes and fumbled in his pant pocket.

“Would you please hurry?”

He grabbed the gun before he turned back. As he moved toward her, she noticed the bulge in the front of his pajamas. She turned her head. Too much information about a man she didn’t want to know. He fumbled with the handcuffs, finally getting them unlocked, and she was off the bed and scurrying to the bathroom before he’d taken the key out of the cuffs.

Max walked into the living room area, his feet cold on the bare wood. He shed his pajamas and pulled on his pants, tucking the gun behind his back, suddenly aware that he, too, needed to use the facilities. “Don’t take all day,” he called. He couldn’t hear her response clearly, but was sure there was a “back off” in it somewhere. He sighed and debated turning on the news.

The toilet flushed, and Max headed for the bathroom door again, only to hear the sound of water running in the sink. “What’re you doing?”

“Brushing my teeth.”

“Can’t you wait a couple of minutes?”

“Morning breath. Hang on.”

“Jade, please.”

She took pity on him, and a moment later, he’d shut himself behind the door.

He knew she was waiting for him to leave so she could finish with her teeth, but even after taking care of business, he still had a bit of a problem, and he didn’t want to go into the living room with the tent in his pants.

He grabbed his toothbrush and anointed it with minty toothpaste. He got it as far as his mouth before he realized he’d left her out there on her own. He dropped the toothbrush and threw open the door.

Jade was right outside, holding up her still-wet toothbrush. She blinked at him and shrank back.

Thank God she hadn’t run. Not that she could have gotten far. But he didn’t need the aggravation. He had to remember to keep her cuffed when he wasn’t with her. He sucked as a kidnapper.

Her bare legs drew his gaze, as did her cherry red, painted toenails. He forced himself to look away. “Stay right here.”

He went back inside and finished brushing his teeth, leaving the door open so he could keep an eye on her.

JADE WATCHED HIM at the sink, studying the curve of his backside, the breadth of his shoulders. Nothing personal. It was like looking at a piece of art. The important thing was not to look down at his jeans. His arousal had nothing to do with her, but everything to do with Max being a guy. All she had to do was keep her gaze on his face. So the second he opened the door, her gaze went right there. Just like that.

The tent had folded.

Which just proved that he was a normal guy, and she was clearly a perv. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, glad that he couldn’t see the bright red blush on her cheeks. So okay, she had to admit that under ordinary circumstances, the sight of Max’s body would generate considerable interest. He didn’t have the overbuilt weight lifter’s upper body, but he didn’t seem to have an ounce of extra fat either. And just enough chest and stomach hair to be interesting, a light trail heading downward from his abs….

Jade shook her head as she turned on the water. Good God, what did it say about her that she’d been kidnapped, stolen from her life by a man who quite possibly was a cold-blooded killer, and she was thinking about his abs? Maybe a therapist wasn’t such a bad idea.

She finished in the bathroom, having chastised herself to the point of boredom, and reentered the living room. When she’d first arrived last night, she’d been far too worried about Max to really examine her surroundings, so she took advantage of the moment to look around.

It appeared to be one of those manufactured log cabins, a single large room divided into sections more by furniture than architecture, with the exception of a countertop between the kitchenette and the rest of the room and the half wall by the bathroom. Nothing that clued her to the sanity—or lack thereof—of Max Travis. Nothing that could be fashioned into a weapon.

She bent over the desk and looked out.

Trees. Snow. Tire tracks disappearing into the distance.

Where the hell was she?

Max walked over to stand next to her. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“If you like the middle of nowhere.”

“My dad used to bring me out here hunting when I was a kid. It’s in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains.”

“Fabulous. So you’ve got me in rural hell. What’s your plan now?”

Max’s piercing blue eyes met her gaze. “I’m going into town to make some calls.”

“What about me?”

“Get dressed.”

She looked down at the blue pajamas, at her bare legs, forgotten in the face of the winter desolation outside. As she headed to the chair where she’d left her clothes, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Want some cornflakes?”

“Sure,” she said absently, her excitement mounting. If he took her into town with him, she had a much better chance of getting away.

“They’ll be ready when you are.”

True to his word, when Jade came out of the bathroom, there was a box of cornflakes, a bowl, a quart of milk, a sugar bowl, and a few packets of Sweet ’n Low on the table.

“Only one bowl.”

“Like I said. I have some things to do.”

“What about me? I’m going with you, right?”

“You won’t be bored. You’re going to be reading.”

Jade stood with her hands on her hips. “You can’t just leave me here.”

Smiling, he opened his briefcase. “There’s all this, and some stuff on my laptop. I don’t know how much you’ll be able to get through in a couple of hours…”

“Couple of hours?”

“That’s how long I figure it’ll take me to make some calls, get some more groceries and pick you up some clothes.”

“Clothes?”

“You need some warm shoes, warm clothes.”

Her shoulders sagged. “So you’re not going to let me go.”

“Not yet.” He sighed. “I have a friend—someone who’s been helping me track down leads—between him and a guy I know with the FBI I’ll see if I can’t work out a way to get you back without me getting my head blown off. In the meantime, you’ll read.”

After she sat, she poured some cornflakes into the bowl, then looked up at him. “You’re going to leave me here alone?”

“Cuffed to the bed, so don’t get too excited.”

“What if something happens to you?”

“You mean if the cops stop me?”

She nodded.

“I’ll send them back here to get you.”

“Yeah, right.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Believe what you want but I never intended to hurt you.”

Her eyes fell to the bandaged wound on his forearm. “Better pick up a first aid kit while you’re at it.”

He withdrew his hand. “Finish up your breakfast. I think it would be best if you skipped the coffee until I get back. I don’t have any way of giving you room to maneuver when I’m gone.”

As Jade ate, thinking about being chained up for the next few hours, Max piled a stack of papers on the floor near the bedstead and placed his laptop next to them. “Write your pants, shirt sizes, shoe size, that kind of stuff, on this piece of paper.” He set a pen down with the paper. “Anything else?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been kidnapped before.” She finished writing and pushed away from the table.

He guided her into position and handcuffed her to the bedstead.

Trying hard not to panic, she took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, calming herself as much as possible, although the thought of being trapped here to die was right there. She believed that he’d be back as soon as he could, but there was always the possibility of a car accident, of him being shot, of…anything. She settled her back against the pillows he’d placed against the wall.

“Probably as good as it’s going to get.”

She rattled the cuffs. “I’m still worried. Something could happen.”

He sat down, his weight dipping the bed. He stared at her for a long moment, his lips pursed and his brows creased. She supposed he’d had the same thoughts. That something unforeseen could occur. “Tell you what. I’ll tell my friend that someone’s here. I’ll e-mail him right now. I’ll say that if he doesn’t hear from me in three hours, he should come to the cabin.”

“Where does he live?”

“He’ll be in D.C. And don’t worry. He’s never let me down.”

She nodded. It was more than she’d hoped for.

He opened his laptop, typed for awhile, then went over to the desk, where he plugged the unit into the wall. She heard the familiar squeal of an online connection. It took a lot longer than she’d figured, but then she had a cable connection at home and at the office, so she never had to wait. Finally, he unplugged the computer and brought it back.

“Do you want the TV on?”

“Is there a remote?”

“No. I just picked up a cheapie so I could watch the news.”

“Skip it. This should keep me busy.” She waved at the computer and the stack of papers.

“Okay, then.” Max stood over her chewing his lower lip. “The files that are pertinent are under Geotech. I’ve written the password on that sticky note.” He nodded at the top of the stack of papers. She saw a string of letters and numbers written in a neat hand.

He headed across the room and picked up a heavy jacket, then got the phone line that was still connected to the jack and put that in his pocket. He paused at the garage door. “A couple of hours then.”

“Oh boy.”

He opened the door and a blast of cold air swept across the cabin as he stepped out. He pulled the door closed behind him.

Jade heard the garage door open. Her car started up and backed out, then the garage door closed again. She kept listening until she no longer heard the engine, until she was left in silence. At least she’d be able to hear when he came back.

As she had last night, she listened for any noise that might indicate she was near other people, but if anything, the blanket of snow outdoors cloaked even more sound than before. She heard a distant creak and it took her several minutes of concentration to realize it was a large tree swaying in the light breeze.

It was so quiet in the cabin that she could hear her own heart beating. A whoosh in the garage marked the water heater turning on, followed mere seconds later by it going off again. She saw a small flurry of snow fall past the window and heard the pattering of a squirrel’s feet on the snow-packed roof.

At least she hoped it was a squirrel. In a brief fugue state she imagined herself attacked by rats as she sat chained to the bed. Max would come back and find a bare skeleton chained to the frame like in a horror movie.

To ward off any more sickening images, she picked up Max’s laptop and turned it on, watching it boot up quickly. It was not unlike her own, and she clicked a couple of the unfamiliar icons to see what they might be. With any luck, Max might have one new enough to have a wireless connection.

She looked in the system folder, and it did, indeed. She double-clicked it, then held her breath as the laptop attempted to connect. Finally an error message popped up. No carrier to be found.

Damn.

She turned the unit off to conserve the batteries and leaned over the bed as far as she could, looking around the room for a possible escape route, a way out of the cuffs. Nothing. Exasperated, she tugged at her manacled wrist. Nothing budged.

She sighed and relaxed against the pillow. She looked at the stack of papers Max had left. She poked through the pile, noting everything was dated sequentially. She picked up a handful and began looking at them.

Hmm. Receipts, stapled to regular paper with notes. Phone records. Geotech office memos. Her interest piqued, she began to read.

DESPITE THE E-MAIL Max was still worried about Jade. Leaving her there had been a tough choice, but in the end, it was the only thing he could do. He’d briefly considered not cuffing her, but she’d try to escape and that could only end badly. In her high heels, she wouldn’t get far, and far was where she’d have to go for help. The cabin’s nearest neighbor was about fifteen miles away.

No, his best bet now was to proceed as carefully as he could with his plan and get back safely. At least he wasn’t trying to do the drive to D.C. and back, as he’d been doing for the last couple of weeks.

As he approached the outskirts of Ashwood, he decided he’d do the shopping first, the phone calls after. If Agent Bilick traced the call, Max would be back at the cabin before there could be a response.

He hit the small department store first, picking up a couple of pairs of denims, wool lumberjack shirts, warm socks and hiking shoes for Jade. He found a down jacket in her size, then headed into the women’s department for underwear. As he eyed the bras and panties, feeling more out of his depth by the second, an elderly woman approached him.

“Not sure we carry anything in your size,” she said.

“Oh.” Max reddened. “It’s not for me.”

“That’s a joke, son. You look a bit bewildered.”

“Oh. Well, I’m picking up a few things for a lady, and I thought she might like some—delicates—to go with them.”

“Do you know her sizes?” The woman, in her fifties, peered at him over thick bifocals.

“Here.” Max thrust the paper with Jade’s sizes into her gnarled hand.

“Hmm. Well, the panties should be okay, but the shirt size makes picking out a bra a little tough.”

Max reached for the paper. “Maybe I should just get the stuff later.” He could feel the heat in his face.

The woman pulled the paper out of his reach. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. We’re talking bras here, not your deepest sins. The shirt size tells us how big around she is. We just need to figure out the cup size.”

“Cup size?”

“For the bra.”

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