the noise of the engine.
“Damn.”
Her gaze shot back to the man who had just muttered the curse. The light was behind him, silhouetting his rangy frame, making him seem even taller, looming over her. Her gut told her the quicker she got them out of here, the better. She tugged on Cutter’s collar, but the dog was reluctant and reacted with uncharacteristic resistance.
Everything the darn dog had done since that helicopter had buzzed the house had been uncharacteristic, she thought, tugging again.
The door of the helicopter opened. The first armed man she’d seen leaned out.
“Time, Quinn,” he shouted over the noise of the engine and the growing wind of the main rotor.
“I know.”
Hayley heard the exchange and registered that the man her suddenly recalcitrant dog seemed so attracted to was apparently named Quinn, but she was mainly focused on getting them both out of here. Normally she was able, barely, to lift Cutter if she had to. But dragging him when he was actively resisting was something else.
She turned, intending to walk away, hoping the dog would just follow; normally he always did, not liking her too far away from him. Not that he was behaving normally just now, but—
She gasped as the man called Quinn suddenly appeared in front of her, blocking her path. She hadn’t even heard him move. And in that instant the entire scenario went from ominous and unsettling to threatening. Because clearly this man was not going to let her just walk away.
“I’m sorry,” the man said.
Then he grabbed her, so swiftly she had no time to react. He ran his hands over her, so obviously searching that any thought that it was some personal assault never really formed.
She elbowed him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
It was a rhetorical question, and it got the answer it probably deserved: nothing. She tried to pull away again but he held her in place with ease, warning her without a word that he was much stronger than she.
And then he lifted her off the ground. She fought, clawing, kicking, landing at least one solid blow. She barely had time to scream before she was physically tossed aboard the helicopter. She twisted, trying to get out before the man called Quinn got aboard. Cutter, she noticed through her panic, did nothing but whine in obvious concern. Somehow she’d always assumed the dog would defend her, would attack, bite—
She was pushed down into a seat. She scrambled to get to her feet, but Quinn leaned over and grabbed Cutter, tossing the fifty-pound dog into her lap as if he weighed no more than the duffel bag that followed. And then he was aboard himself, and the door slammed shut behind him with grim finality.
She sat in the seat he’d shoved her into, her heart hammering, her hands shaking as she clung to Cutter, fighting to wrap her mind around one simple fact.
They were being kidnapped.
Chapter Two
“You were no help at all,” Hayley muttered to the dog overwhelming her lap. Yet despite her surprise at that—a tiny emotion next to the fear that was growing every second—she clung to the furry bundle. The dog didn’t seemed bothered at all by what was happening, just as he hadn’t protested by even a yelp when this total stranger had grabbed him, never mind her.
She, on the other hand, was terrified. If she hadn’t had the dog to hang on to, to focus on, she was sure she’d be shrieking. And then the rotors began to turn, and she did let out a little gasp.
“Thanks for the help, Teague,” Quinn snapped at the other armed man. Even though he was practically yelling to be heard over the engine and growing rotor noise, the sarcasm came through.
The other man laughed. And grinned, a boyish, crooked grin she would have found charming under other circumstances. Now it just added to her growing fears.
“The day you can’t handle a woman and a dog is the day I quit this gig,” the man called Teague shouted back.
“I let you fly, so get us out of here.”
Teague’s grin flashed again, but then he was all business, turning his attention completely to controls that, Hayley noted, seemed to take not only his hands and eyes, but feet, as well. Flying a helicopter was apparently a complicated affair.
“Belt up,” Quinn instructed her.
Hayley didn’t react, still watching the pilot as she tried to analyze the easy, friendly banter between the two men. Did that bode well, or worse? She didn’t know, and—
“Let go of the damn dog and put your seat belt on.” He was yelling again now as the sound of the engine and rotors increased again.
There was too much dog to just let go of and get her hands on the belt she could see at her sides. And then the man realized that, grabbed Cutter and again lifted him as easily as if the animal didn’t weigh almost half what she did. To her annoyance, the dog didn’t even growl at the usually unwanted liberty taken by a stranger. But she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to anger the man while he had the dog in his arms.
He seemed to realize that. “You want him back, do it.”
She reached for the belt ends, then glanced back at her traitorous dog. Just in time to see him swipe a pink tongue over the set jaw of their captor.
“Talk about fraternizing with the enemy,” she muttered as she fastened the harness-style belt, figuring she was safe enough saying it aloud, it was so noisy in here.
The only saving grace was the expression on Quinn’s face; utterly startled. She wasn’t sure how she knew it was not an expression he wore often, but she did. He plopped the dog back into her lap.
“Must you?”
The barely audible question came out of the darkness beside her, and Hayley realized it had come from her neighbor, the first time she’d ever heard him speak. His voice was a bit raspy, probably, she thought wryly, from disuse. And she thought it might hold a bit of an accent, although it was hard to tell from two words called out over the noise of a helicopter.
“Sorry, Vicente,” Quinn said, sparking another spurt of annoyance in her; if anybody should get an apology, it should be her, shouldn’t it?
Teague yelled something Hayley couldn’t hear well enough to understand, but Quinn must have, because he turned his head to answer. Then he reached out and picked something up from the empty front seat. If she had any guts, now would have been a chance, while he was turned away. She could lunge for the door, get away. Problem was, she didn’t think she could undo the belt, hang on to Cutter and get the door open fast enough. She—
Quinn turned back, and the moment was lost. To her surprise, he jammed himself onto the floor at her feet, although he was tall enough to make it a tight fit. It took her a moment to realize he was staying to keep an eye on them, rather than strapping himself into the vacant seat beside the pilot. That must have been, she thought, what that exchange she hadn’t heard was about. And what he’d picked up was some kind of headset, perhaps something that enabled him to talk to the pilot, or at least muffled the noise that made normal conversation impossible.
And
