Once I had to go all the way to Chicago. Man, was that guy a pain.”
“You still aren’t listening to me, are you? Why aren’t you listening? Why aren’t you understanding that if I didn’t break the law in Portland, I certainly didn’t break it in Seattle?”
“Take it easy, Haley. You go on like this and you’re apt to pop a blood vessel. And that couldn’t be good. How about some music? You want some music? Great way to relax.”
* * *
Useless, Haley finally decided. He wasn’t listening to her pleas and arguments. She was simply wearing herself out trying.
He was actually taking her to Seattle. Portland was already behind them. They were in Washington now, rolling north on Interstate 5. There were mountains and lush forests of hemlocks, firs and pines on either side of the highway. Far ahead, off to the right, it was possible to make out what was left of Mount Saint Helens after its famous volcanic explosion.
Magnificent, all of it. If you cared to gaze at it. Haley didn’t. She was too busy thinking what a nightmare she’d landed herself in when she had so innocently opened her front door to the man at her side. He was currently whistling under his breath to some old Frank Sinatra song on the radio. Casual as a barefoot boy headed down to the river to land himself a mess of fish.
Not a very sensible analogy, she told herself. Chase McKinley was a bounty hunter, wasn’t he? Something she only knew about from movies and television. What did that require? Probably all the qualities of a roughneck. Things like a well-built, long-limbed body, big hands made to deliver a punch, a deep, commanding voice. Yeah, he had all those and more. Rugged features, dark hair that could use both a trim and a comb. Even darker eyes that had the sexy—
Stop right there.
Whatever he was or wasn’t, she refused to permit herself to think of him in those terms.
But there was one thing...what? What was it that had been bothering her every time she glanced at him? A vague familiarity, wasn’t that it? Only that was nonsense. She couldn’t possibly have encountered him before. She would have remembered someone as distinctly different as he was.
None of this mattered, of course. Because familiar or otherwise, Haley had made up her mind. Whatever it took, she was getting away from Chase McKinley at the first opportunity.
The more Haley thought about it, the more she was convinced there was something wrong about this whole thing. She knew she wasn’t guilty of any wrongdoing. Then why was she being made to go to Seattle, of all places?
An error of some kind. Had to be. So why not just go on to Seattle and straighten it all out? Why this resolve to give Chase McKinley the slip? It wasn’t because she was no longer afraid of him. And that was another puzzle. She should be terrified in a car with a strange man on the way to another state. Why wasn’t she more than just worried about being with him? She couldn’t figure that out, either.
Haley had only one certainty about this man. It would be a mistake to underestimate him. He wasn’t going to stand by and let her just walk away from him. He would take measures to prevent that. Did he have a gun? she wondered. He probably did and would use it if it became necessary.
Well, maybe he wouldn’t need a gun. Not with a woman. For a man of his size and strength, there were other easier ways to stop a woman from running.
Better not think about those, Haley, she instructed herself. They would just bring up unpleasant images. Things like physical overpowering. He didn’t seem violent or dangerous. Just determined to control his...what did he call them? FTAs. A polite term for fugitives.
Anyway, it didn’t pay to speculate about what might happen. All she could do was be ready to act whenever the chance to escape came her way.
That such an opportunity could actually occur was not very likely. Haley knew that, but she refused to surrender the possibility. Meanwhile, she kept as much space between her captor and her as the seats permitted, speaking to him only when he addressed her. She tried not to fret as the SUV ate up the miles, putting Portland farther behind her with every one of those dismal miles.
It was difficult, though, not to worry. She had a life, job commitments, friends who would wonder about her. What would they think, do when they couldn’t reach her? She would have to contact them somehow when she got the chance. Probably through her lawyer. Hadn’t Bounty Hunter here said she was entitled to a phone call when she was booked? After which she’d be slapped behind bars. Maddening, all of it. And for something she didn’t do—whatever it was.
Minutes later, Haley was shaken out of her reverie by his grumbled curse of displeasure. “Damn it all to hell, wouldn’t you just know it?”
This was the first time in over an hour he’d spoken to her. Only he hadn’t, really. His curse was directed elsewhere.
“What? What’s happened?”
He didn’t answer her. He didn’t need to. All she had to do was follow his gaze up the highway to realize something was happening ahead of them. The traffic seemed to be backing up on both lanes. They themselves had no choice but to slow to a crawl.
“An accident?” she asked.
“I doubt it. Wanna bet it’s a construction tie-up? I swear, there isn’t a road in this country that isn’t being worked on somewhere along its length.”
He sounded like it was all a conspiracy directed personally against him. Were men always this grouchy when they were inconvenienced by road repairs?
“I didn’t see any signs announcing construction,” she said.
“You will.”
He was right. It took some considerable stop-and-go before they spotted it, but eventually they were advised by an orange caution sign that, within a half mile, they would need to move into the left lane.
The heavy traffic eased forward at a frustrating pace, seemingly inch by mere inch, each vehicle waiting its turn to squeeze over into the designated lane. But long before that shift arrived, the lines halted altogether. They sat there without moving.
The unexpected. What she’d been waiting for. If it worked out.
“This has got to be eating up the gas,” she commented.
He grunted. She waited. The stalled traffic waited.
“Hope you’ve got enough in your tank that we don’t get caught out here on empty. It could be a long while yet before we move out of this trap.”
“You let me worry about that.”
But he looked down at his gauge. And, hallelujah, the gas must have been just low enough for him to decide it might be smart to conserve it. That was what the expression on his face seemed to register, anyway.
Come on, McKinley, act. Don’t just think about it. Do it.
She restrained herself from a sigh of thanksgiving when, after lowering the window on his side, he turned off the engine.
