swallowed the lump of fear in her throat, acutely aware of the tingling in her fingertips from his touch.
Releasing her, he slowed the car as they entered heavier traffic. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah, right,” she muttered under her breath.
His soft chuckle sent a warm shiver up her spine. “Trust me,” he said, his voice setting butterflies free low in her middle. “The last thing I want is to see you hurt.”
She ignored the flutterings and noticed that he was looking for a spot to pull off the road. If she could stall him long enough, make him think she was going along with this, maybe she’d get the chance to escape.
“Trust you?” she asked, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her nervousness. “I don’t even know your name.”
“What’s yours?”
Frustration warred with fear and won. “Carolyn. Carolyn Albright. But my friends call me Carly.”
“Nice to meet you, Carly. Mine’s Dev Brannigan.”
Slowing almost to a stop, he pulled into the drive-through of a familiar hamburger chain. “You hungry?”
She started to tell him he couldn’t change the subject. But when he turned in the seat to look at her, the words died on her lips.
One dark eyebrow arched over a sapphire-blue eye, the other was covered with a black leather patch, giving him a rakish appearance. Like a pirate.
Or the Devil.
While his traveling companion slept, Dev thought about her reaction to what must have been her first view of his eyepatch. Surprise had been the first emotion to cross her face. But it hadn’t lasted more than a second. He hadn’t seen the next thing coming, but he should have. If she had screamed, he would have been prepared. Not Carly Albright. Nope. She’d just matter-of-factly asked him if Dev was short for Devil.
Chuckling softly so he wouldn’t wake her, he shook his head. Just like his mother, who had often told him she had named him for Lucifer, not a French ancestor. Carly certainly was straightforward. No keeping her hand close to her vest. And the questions! Right and left. He felt like a novice tennis player trying to field McEnroe’s volleys. He had wanted to ease the fear she had eventually shown of him, but the less she knew, the better. At least for now. And until he could discover what, if anything, besides J.R.’s last-minute infidelity, had caused her to run out on her wedding, he wasn’t revealing anything about himself until and unless it was absolutely necessary.
His older brother, Chace, referred to their former neighbor as a snake. Considering the story of how Chace had met his wife, Ellie, Dev agreed that the term fit. He preferred weasel. Like the predatory animal that sneaked into henhouses in the dark of night, J.R. did his damage and was gone before anyone was the wiser. Was Carly Albright his latest victim? Had she, like Ellie almost had, fallen for one of his schemes?
When he had helped her from the church, Dev’s only thought had been to question her while he took her wherever she wanted to go. He hadn’t planned anything more, until he learned she had nowhere to go. Now that she was in his care for however long, he hoped J.R. would come after her.
He had waited for the right moment to ask a few questions, but once they’d eaten and driven another thirty minutes, her eyelids had fluttered shut, hiding her blue-green eyes, and he hadn’t wanted to disturb her. Especially when he noticed the dark circles under her eyes.
This wasn’t the way he’d expected to be driving home, with an almost-bride on the run, but it sure beat the alternative. He was pretty certain J.R. hadn’t recognized him, but even that didn’t matter. No one, not even his family, had any idea what he did or where he lived. He had planned it that way. Maybe he would soon be able to tell them about his life. Then again, once they knew everything, they might not give a damn.
The miles ticked by while he considered how to let J.R. know where to find the blushing bride. By the time the sun blazed its lowering path to the horizon, and the highway led him into the heart of Shreveport, he had planned his next play.
When he pulled into the private parking area behind his building, he noticed one particular car and was glad to see it. He’d be able to play his first card without delay.
Turning off the engine, he looked at the woman next to him. He hated to wake her. Whether she exhibited outward signs of emotional exhaustion or not, he sensed she was pretty well drained. It wouldn’t be anything at all to carry her to the elevator. She couldn’t weigh that much, and he kept himself in good physical condition. People who knew him might think he had a cushy job, but he knew better. Not only did he have to be mentally alert at all times, but he sometimes needed the brawn to go with the brains. The patch over his eye was proof of that.
As he suspected, she didn’t weigh more than some of the oil equipment he’d lifted when he’d worked with the drilling company. Carrying her to the elevator and from there into his private quarters, he took her straight to his bedroom. He would be too busy most of the night to need the bed himself and could always get a few winks on the sofa in the sitting room.
She didn’t even stir when he gently placed her on top of the silk spread. Looking down at her in the soft glow of the small bedside lamp, he hoped the luck of meeting her when he did was good and not bad. His daddy had always told him he possessed the Devil’s luck, but the sight of Carly, so peaceful and beautiful, made him wonder if he wasn’t about to find out exactly what that meant.
Concerned that she might soon be uncomfortable, Dev wasn’t sure what to do. She was obviously sleeping soundly. She might look like an angel in that wedding dress, but it wasn’t something someone would want to sleep in. Should he try to get her out of it? There was no doubt she needed the sleep, and he probably could do it without waking her, but—But nothing. Hell, he wasn’t about to try to strip her out of that thing. He wasn’t crazy. The odds were against him that he could do it without giving a thought to what lay beneath the layers of lace and satin.
After finding an extra blanket, he covered her and searched for something she could wear when she’d had enough sleep. Knowing he probably wouldn’t be there when she did awaken, he left her a note.
In the elevator he mentally went over his plan again. When it came to a stop, he walked down the hall to the security office, ready to put things into action.
“Greg,” he said, after stepping into the room, “I need to get some information out as fast as possible.”
His chief of security looked up from the bank of closed-circuit televisions stationed along one wall and shoved his glasses back up on his nose. “Out to the other casinos?”
Dev nodded. “Let’s start with the ones here in Shreveport and see if that does the trick.”
Without blinking an eye, Greg Tremain picked up a phone. “What do they need to know?”
Smiling at the man’s efficiency, Dev took a seat next to him. “I expect Staton to be arriving in town within the next few days. Get word to him that the woman who left him standing at the altar is here at the Devil’s Den.”
The only indication that Greg knew things hadn’t gone as planned was a nearly imperceptible raising of one eyebrow as he punched a number on the auto-dialer.
While Greg relayed the message to twenty-some
