She could only stand here, shaking, falling apart, wondering why everything was spinning around her.
Except Dylan’s profile. Something clicked off in his expression. It wasn’t fear that overtook him, even though this huge, monstrous weapon was pressed to his heart. It was...determination.
“You should leave her. She’s pregnant. You don’t want to mess with that. I’m the son of the bank president. Think of the ransom you could ask for. You don’t need her, and you don’t need to hurt her.” Then Dylan did the damnedest thing. He smiled.
“Dylan,” Vanessa managed. The hallway seemed to be getting dim, and she thought maybe she was going to throw up. She tried to say something, warn somebody that it wasn’t going to be pretty. But the world was moving. The walls. The floor.
“Pregnant, eh?” One of the men eyed her and she had to close her eyes again. She had to think of the baby. If she could get her brain to stop being a jumbled mess, get the panic to stop freezing her, she could barricade herself in Dylan’s office and call 911.
These men would be able to shoot through the glass door though. She’d left her cell phone in her car. Did Dylan have his on him? He seemed like the type who wouldn’t be parted from it. She opened her eyes, trying to study his pants to see if there was the hint of a phone in his pocket.
“She’s a liability,” Dylan said, still so damn calm while she was shaking. Had the lights gone out? Everything seemed so dark. “Any harm you cause her would come back on you tenfold. It’s one thing to kidnap and demand ransom, another to harm a woman and her unborn child.”
“Only if we get caught,” the other man said, his smile going so wide half his mouth was hidden behind his black face mask.
Vanessa thought she could all but read Dylan’s thoughts from the simple murderous expression he gave the man: oh, you’ll be caught.
She’d never given Dylan much credit for bravery or having a backbone, but watching him face down two goons with giant guns, she realized she had to reassess her opinion of him.
“We need to get going. We should have been gone ten minutes ago. Stick to the plan, or the boss—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” The man holding the gun to Dylan’s chest pushed him with it. “You’re coming with us.” He gestured toward the back door Dylan had led her through not that long ago. Dylan started moving toward it, the gun now to his back.
He didn’t even look at her as he passed.
“We can’t leave her, pregnant or not. She’s seen too much. We have to take her with us. Come on, little girl.”
The man not pushing Dylan reached out for her, but she flinched away. She wanted to deck him, but she couldn’t manage to move her arms. She couldn’t move, period. Bile rose in her throat.
“I’m going to...” But the room was something like black, and she wasn’t on her feet anymore. Then something crashed against her head and painful stars burst in her vision, but it wasn’t light. She heard Dylan say her name, but she couldn’t seem to do anything but stay still—and then float away.
* * *
DYLAN’S FACE THROBBED in time with his heavy beating heart. He should have been able to fight them off, but he’d been trying to get to Vanessa to make sure she was all right.
Now his hands were zip-tied behind his back, and he was pretty sure his shoulder was dislocated from trying to fight that off. It was possible his jaw was broken from the butt of the gun being smashed into his face, but since he could move it, he’d hope for just a severe bruise.
He’d never be able to break the bonds on his hands or feet, or even loosen them, but he kept feeling around the back of the van, trying to find something sharp.
Trying to keep his mind off the fact Vanessa was unconscious on the floor of the van and carrying his baby.
They’d been in the back of the vehicle for at least fifteen minutes by his count, and Vanessa was still out cold. She was so pale. So...vulnerable.
He’d save her. He had to. His skills at survival had dulled somewhat these past few years of playing dutiful banker and protégé to his father. But he’d remember them. He’d bring them all back, and he and Vanessa would escape this mess.
Poor Adele. He hoped she was all right. Surely she’d have hit the alarm, even if they’d hurt her. But the two morons who’d abducted them had certainly taken their time getting out of the bank, and no one had shown up.
Well, someone would notice him missing. A Carson would surely notice Vanessa missing. Someone would notice she didn’t come home and that her shop wasn’t open. They’d see her car in the bank lot and know something was very, very wrong.
If he assured himself of those facts, he could concentrate on how they were going to escape. Because they were going to escape.
A quiet, gasping sound came from Vanessa’s direction. Dylan scooted toward her. He wished he could maneuver himself to grab her hand, feel her pulse, but there wasn’t enough room on the floor of the van.
“Vanessa.”
She groaned this time, moving her head and then groaning again.
“Vanessa. Come on, sweetheart. Wake up.” He tried nudging her with his elbow, but he couldn’t lean that way without falling at every bump.
“Wh-what...?” She jerked at her arms, her legs thrashing wildly.
“Calm down. It’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay.”
She jerked her gaze to him, all vicious anger hiding a little flash of fear. “Why would you being here make anything okay, Delaney?” she demanded, her voice rough. She looked around wildly.
“Just try to breathe. You fainted. Take your time to wake up. Then I’ll help you sit up as best I can.”
She sucked in a breath then let it out, eyeing their surroundings. The back of the van was all metal, and though the windows were tinted completely black, enough light shone through that they could make each other out. She moved her gaze to him.
“Fainted?” She tugged at the bonds on her hands as she moved herself into a sitting position—without his help—with a wince. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”
“First time for everything. I’d imagine it had to do with—”
“How the hell am I tied up with you of all people?” She looked around, her expression one of panic with a steely disgust instead of that ashen terror from before. It was some comfort. “Where are we?”
“They took us both as hostages.”
“Who’s ‘they’?” She pulled at the ties on her wrist again, then winced. She squeezed her eyes shut. “How did I get here? I can’t...”
“What do you mean, ‘you can’t’?” He recalled that sometimes people with head injuries didn’t remember what had caused them. Added to that, she’d fainted and suffered a trauma. Maybe she didn’t even remember coming to see him at the bank. “You don’t remember?”
