should have gone down without any trouble.
He’d been so intent on the woman in front of him, though, that he hadn’t heard the man come up behind him until it was too late. Even if someone had intervened, Ed had been pretty sure he could handle it. He’d been a wrestler and boxer growing up. Few men were stupid enough to take him on.
The last thing he’d expected was to be smacked in the back of the head by some do-gooder. What had he been hit with anyway? Something hard and cold. A gun? The blow had knocked him senseless and the next thing he’d known he was on the sidewalk bleeding. As he’d heard the van engine roaring in his direction, he’d fought to keep from blacking out as whoever had blindsided him had gotten away with the blonde.
“What happened?” his brother, Alec, demanded now. He leaned against the van wall in the back, his head hurting like hell. “I thought you had it all worked out.”
“How the hell do I know?” He was still bleeding like a stuck pig. “Just get out of here. Drive!” he yelled at the driver, Nick, a dock worker he’d used before for less than legal jobs. “Circle the block until I can think of what to do.”
Ed caught a whiff of the blonde’s perfume and realized he was holding her sweater to his bleeding skull. He took another sniff of it. Nice. He tried to remember exactly what had transpired. It had all happened so fast. “Did you see who hit me?” he asked.
“I saw a man and a woman going down the alley,” Alec said. “I thought you said she’d be alone?”
That’s what he had thought. It had all been set up in a way that should have come off like clockwork. So where had whoever hit him come from? “So neither of you got a look at the guy?”
Nick cleared his throat. “I thought at first that he was working with you.”
“Why would you think that?” Ed demanded, his head hurting too much to put up with such stupid remarks. “The son of a bitch coldcocked me with something.”
“A gun. It was a gun,” Alec said. “I saw the light catch on the metal when he tucked it back into his pants.”
“He was carrying a gun?” Ed sat up, his gaze going to Nick. “Is that why you thought he was part of the plan?”
“No, I didn’t see the gun,” Nick said. “I just assumed he was in on it because of who he was.”
Ed pressed the sweet-smelling sweater to his head and tried not to erupt. “Are you going to make me guess? Or are you frigging going to tell me who was he?”
“Jack Durand.”
“What?” Ed couldn’t believe his ears. What were the chances that Tom Durand’s son would show up on this particular street? Unless his father had sent him? That made no sense. Why pay me if he sent his son?
“You’re sure it was Jack?”
“Swear on my mother’s grave,” Nick said as he drove in wider circles. “I saw him clear as a bell. He turned in the alley to look back. It was Jack, all right.”
“Go back to that alley,” Ed ordered. Was this Tom’s backup plan in case Ed failed? Or was this all part of Tom’s real plan? Either way, it appeared Jack Durand had the girl.
* * *
CASSIDY LOOKED AS if she might make a run for it at any moment. That would be a huge mistake on her part. But Jack could tell that she was now pretty sure she shouldn’t be trusting him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep her here. She reached for her phone, but he laid a hand on her arm.
“That’s the van coming back,” he said quietly. At the sound of the engine growing nearer, he signaled her not to make a sound as he pulled her deeper into the darkness of the doorway recess. The van drove slowly up the alley. He’d feared they would come back. That’s why he’d been hesitant to move from their hiding place.
Jack held his breath as he watched the blonde, afraid she might do something crazy like decide to take her chances and run. He wouldn’t have blamed her. For all she knew, he could have been in on the abduction and was holding her here until the men in the van came back for her.
The driver of the van braked next to the open doorway. The engine sat idling. Jack waited for the sound of a door opening. He’d put the gun into the back waistband of his jeans before he’d grabbed the blonde, thinking the gun might frighten her. As much as he wanted to pull it now, he talked himself out of it.
At least for the moment. He didn’t want to get involved in any gunplay—especially with the young woman here. He’d started carrying the gun when he’d worked for his father and had to take the day’s proceeds to a bank drop late at night. It was a habit he’d gotten used to even after he’d quit. Probably because of the type of people who worked with his father.
After what seemed like an interminable length of time, the van driver pulled away.
Jack let out the breath he’d been holding. “Come on, I’ll see that you get someplace safe where you can call the police,” he said and held out his hand.
She hesitated before she took it. They moved through the dark shadows of the alley to the next street. The sky above them had turned a deep silver in the evening light. It was still hot, little air in the tight narrow street.
He realized that wherever Cassidy Hamilton had been headed, she hadn’t planned to return until much later—thus the sweater. He wanted to question her, but now wasn’t the time.
At the edge of the buildings, Jack peered down the street. He didn’t see the van or Ed’s green car. But he also didn’t think they had gone far. Wouldn’t they expect her to call the police? The area would soon be crawling with cop cars. So what would Ed do?
A few blocks from the deserted area where they’d met, they reached a more commercial section. The street was growing busier as people got off work. Restaurants began opening for the evening meal as boutiques and shops closed. Jack spotted a small bar with just enough patrons that he thought they could blend in.
“Let’s go in here,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. You should be able to make a call from here. Once I know you’re safe...”
They took a table at the back away from the television over the bar. He removed his Stetson and put it on the seat next to him. When Cassidy wasn’t looking, he removed the .45 from the waistband of his jeans and slid it under the hat.
“What do you want to drink?” he asked as the waitress approached.
“White wine,” she said and plucked nervously at the torn corner of her blouse. Other than the torn blouse, she looked fine physically. But emotionally, he wasn’t sure how much of a toll this would take on her over the long haul. That was if Ed didn’t find her.
“I’ll have whiskey,” he said, waving the waitress off. He had no idea what he was going to do now. He told himself he just needed a jolt of alcohol. He’d been playing this by ear since seeing his father and Ed at the cemetery.
Now he debated what he was going to do with this woman given the little he knew. The last thing he wanted, though, was to get involved with the police. He was sure Ed and his men had seen him, probably recognized him. Once his father found
