off his hands.
He seemed to have things well in control and that annoyed her anew. At first, he’d seemed too pretentious to get involved in a scuffle. But once he’d gotten involved, he’d been beyond impressive. It wasn’t what she’d expected of him at all.
She was used to being the one in control, the one people came to for help. This man acted as though getting kidnapped and held at gunpoint was a regular part of his workweek. “Now what?”
The truck shifted again and Harry braced himself before giving her a wary, probing look. “You’re not going to cry?”
“No.” Charlie almost laughed at his look of relief. She hadn’t figured him to be the type to fall apart over female tears. She gave him a sideways look. “How about you?”
He paused, stared at her a moment, then raised his brows. “I’m holding up. Completely dry-eyed.”
“Good, because I can’t stand blubbering men.”
He gave her a small smile—a very charming smile actually, and she was beyond shocked that she noticed. She ducked her chin to avoid looking at him.
“We’re on an incline,” he noted thoughtfully. He picked up his coat from the corner, shook it out, then slipped it back on. “Let me get the door open and see where we’re headed.”
Charlie bit her lip and mustered up a calm tone. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she’d always heard. “Since you have the knife, I’ll hold the gun.”
“No.”
She bristled at his blunt reply. “Why not?”
Harry carefully lifted the door a foot or so, then lay on his belly and peeked out. He kept looking at her over his shoulder, as if he expected her to push him out as she’d planned to do with Floyd. It wasn’t a bad idea, except that it’d be impossible; he was twice as big as Floyd and very alert. Besides, she didn’t particularly want to get that close to him.
His thick brown hair dripped with rain when he pulled his head back inside. “We’re near the Wayneswood exit.”
Charlie gasped. “Wayneswood!” She hadn’t realized they’d traveled quite so far. Her heart started an erratic pounding. “I have to get home.”
“Come here.” Harry lifted the door a bit more and sat, hanging his legs over the edge. He took the time to overlap his long coat, protecting his trousers as much as possible from the pounding rain.
Once Charlie had settled beside him—accepting whatever his plan might be, because she had none of her own—Harry took her hand. She jerked and had to struggle not to pull away. She didn’t want to look like a wilting ninny.
“As the truck travels uphill,” Harry explained, “it will have to slow down even more. We can jump out then. Luckily the rain will help conceal us, in the event Ralph glances out his mirror.”
“It’s too dark for him to see us.”
“Perhaps. But a flash of movement might draw his attention and we can’t take the chance. So lie low as soon as you can. Just flatten out on the road and we’ll hope the truck keeps going. I don’t relish the idea of getting into a shoot-out.”
“Coward. Give me the gun.”
He grinned and shook his head at her. “Valiant try, but I don’t provoke that easily, so you can hold the insults.”
He completely ignored the rude sound she made.
“Besides, I have experience in handling guns.”
His large hand felt so warm, and his muscled thigh pressed hard against her own. She shivered. Hand-holding with an appealing man was definitely not on the agenda for today. For the most part, it hadn’t been on the agenda for her entire life. Raising her free hand, she flicked her earring with the flattened bullet attached. “So do I.”
“You mean that trinket is real? And here I thought it was part of your costume.”
She ground her teeth. He was humoring her, and she wouldn’t put up with it. “It’s real.”
“Hmm.” She was very aware of his thumb rubbing along her knuckles, and his close scrutiny. “Whatever could you possibly be involved in that would require a gun?”
To ease her own tension, and defuse his attentions, she said, “I own a bar. Usually it’s as dull as dishwater, but one night things got too rowdy and there was gunfire. This particular bullet missed my head by an inch. I decided it was lucky. You?”
He watched her too closely and far too long before he answered. With an elegant shrug he said, “I’m a private investigator.” And that was that.
With no more confidences forthcoming, Charlie turned her attention back to the weather. “We’re going to be drenched.” Already her jeans were wet at the bottom. Her legs didn’t extend nearly as far as his, but the rain blew furiously in all directions.
“True enough. However, it’s not all that cold yet and the rain helps to mask the noise we make in the truck. I’m grateful to Mother Nature for her assistance.”
Charlie made a face at him, though he didn’t see it. So calm, so sure of what he planned to do. She wanted to know what was going on, who he was and what he’d been up to, why Floyd and Ralph had taken money from the store owner and what a private investigator had to do with it. Her curiosity was pricked, even though she had no room for other mysteries, other ventures. And now definitely wasn’t the time. First she had to get back to Corsville. All her plans, shot through.
“You’d truly have let them shoot me?”
She lifted her face to see Harry studying her. He was so sure of himself, so arrogant. So damn good-looking. “Of course,” she lied, disconcerted with his stare and just annoyed enough to goad him. She evidently used enough sincerity because his fierce frown reappeared.
Despite his obvious polish, he looked almost demonic with that evil glare. His incredible light brown eyes seemed scorching hot and far too probing, as if he could see inside her. She shivered, then shook off the fanciful thoughts. He was just a man like all the others, bigger, definitely stronger and more eloquent, but still fairly basic and ruled by simple motivations. She could, and would, control him.
His gaze lowered to her chest. “I can’t imagine why. You don’t appear to have anything all that spectacular to conceal.”
He was going for the jugular, but Charlie, having worked in a bar for the past seven years, wasn’t even tempted by the familiar baiting. At least her disguise had worked well. She was wearing enough layers to keep her warm and conceal any feminine curves at the same time.
Harry squeezed her hand to regain her attention and his expression was still too intent. “It’s not that I haven’t been shot before, you understand, but—”
“You should be more careful with your gun.”
His eyes darkened, grew hotter. “Not with my gun, you little—”
“Listen. Isn’t he shifting now? And if I’m not mistaken, the truck is slowing.”
Harry
