Taken Hostage (7 page)

Tiffany waited nervously in the back seat
with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees and her back to the
road. Her heart beat too fast against her ribs. What the hell as
going on? She couldn’t wait for James to get back. She had more
than a few questions for him. Desperate for distraction from her
increasingly troubled thoughts, she eyed the mysterious Rolando,
who was languishing a couple yards away. He stood leaning against a
tree as, his features growing steadily more distinct as the day
broke. She studied him as much out of wariness as curiosity, noting
a few faint acne scars that dotted his otherwise perfectly smooth
caramel cheeks and a small, curving scar that stood out white and
bare below his right ear. When he turned to face her, her heart
leapt into her throat.

‘So you’re the hostage,’ he said, raking her
from head to bare toes with his eyes. Tiffany fought the urge to
shrink away from his gaze, knowing that the closed door to her back
would prevent it. His eyes settled on the front of her shirt, where
her nipples were on prominent display through the light blue
fabric. ‘Looks like you’ve kept the drive interesting for James.’
He grinned, revealing slightly crooked teeth.

He climbed into the back seat with her and
the door handle dug into her spine as she compressed herself
against it. His scent filled the car – a mixture of sweat and the
earthy odor of the swampy woods. What was in there that James had
gone to retrieve? And how the hell did Rolando know she was James’
hostage? No matter, she decided as Rolando leaned close – she had
much bigger worries at the moment.

‘You seem like a fun girl,’ Rolando
breathed.

Tiffany recoiled, holding her breath against
the stench of his. Maybe he’d been camping out in the ‘damned
swampy woods’. He certainly didn’t smell as if he’d bathed or
brushed his teeth recently.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she said with as much
sternness as she could muster as he placed a hand on her hip.

‘Aw, we’ve got plenty of time – it’ll take
him at least twenty minutes to come back with the money,’ Rolando
said, his face splitting into a devious grin.

Money.

So that was it. But why would James have
money stashed in the Mississippi backwoods? And who was this
Rolando creep? Apparently, James’ criminal plans and history
reached farther than he had revealed. A pang of betrayal pierced
Tiffany’s heart. Partner? Had she really believed James when he’d
called her that back in the woods? Yes, she had. A fresh wave of
heat flooded her cheeks as she contemplated her idiocy.

‘Don’t be that way baby,’ Rolando crooned
when Tiffany hit his groping hand away from her breasts. ‘Not after
I saw what you were doing with James.’

Tiffany wrinkled her nose in distaste. Was
this all James had really intended for her, a fling as a whore for
a pair of criminals? A stinging pressure welled against the back of
her eyeballs, and her face flushed anew with embarrassment. He’d
seemed so sincere when he’d kissed her among the pine trees and
stroked her face as he’d told her of his past. But he hadn’t told
her all of it. What he’d revealed was apparently only the tip of
the iceberg, if it was even true at all. She felt like a fool. This
was what she got for being impulsive and impractical. Agreeing to
go with James was the only time she’d ever let herself be either of
those things, and it’d blown up spectacularly in her face.

Rolando’s hand snaked up the front of her
blouse as she berated herself, and he squeezed one her breasts,
calling her rudely back to the present.

A dual surge of fear and indignant rage
flooded through Tiffany, and she drew back her fist to strike
Rolando as hard as she could across the bridge of his nose,
releasing the anger and frustration she felt in one blow.

He rapidly withdrew his hand and pressed it
to his nose, grimacing. Half a moment later his hands shot out
unexpectedly, grasping her wrists and pinning them against the
seat. ‘What’d you do that for?’ he demanded. ‘Did James hurt you?’
His voice softened a little, but the effect was ruined by the eager
grin that curved his mouth. ‘Well, I won’t. I promise to be gentle
with you and give you a good time…’

She jerked her right knee upward, driving it
hard into his crotch.

He groaned in agony and pressed his hands
between his legs, letting his head fall into Tiffany’s lap. She
began wiggling in an attempt to get out from under him, but froze
as a sudden flash of movement caught her eye.

A car was speeding down the lonely highway –
a police cruiser. She stared in disbelief while the car slowed, as
if the officer inside had sensed her gaze. When Rolando finally
worked up the will to raise his head from her lap, he saw it and
groaned again.

The police cruiser pulled up behind the
Saturn in the gravel turnaround and an officer emerged within
moments. He walked straight-backed toward the Saturn, his eyes
invisible behind the dark aviator-style sunglasses that police
officers everywhere seemed fond of. Tiffany could feel his gaze on
her through the Saturn’s back window anyway.

The officer had to bend at the waist to peer
into the back seat at Rolando and Tiffany. Rolando still wore a
half-grimace, and his face had gone pale beneath a light sheen of
sweat. He was the picture of guilt, and Tiffany was horribly aware
of the fact. ‘You all right, miss?’ the cop asked, peering past
Rolando at Tiffany. Of average height and build, he spoke with a
southern drawl that marked him as a Mississippi native.

She nodded, not trusting herself to
speak.

‘What about you?’ the officer asked, eyeing
Rolando with a frown. ‘What the hell’s your problem?’

Rolando licked his lips. ‘Nothing’s wrong
officer,’ he mumbled, looking down at his knees.

‘The hell it isn’t.’

Rolando grimaced. ‘Alright. I feel sick. Ate
some bad fast food or something. That’s why I pulled over. That’s
all.’

The officer eyed him, his skepticism obvious.
‘License and registration,’ he demanded.

Rolando looked as if he wanted to curse.
Instead, he reached behind himself, apparently to fumble in his
pocket for his wallet. Tiffany knew better – she could see the
handle of a gun peeking from above his waistband as he lifted the
hem of his shirt. The cop spoke again just as his fingers brushed
it.

‘Hey!’ the officer said, leaning closer and
pushing his sunglasses up onto his forehead suddenly. His eyes were
brown, and they went wide with surprise – and perhaps recognition –
as he met Tiffany’s eyes. The officer drew his gun before Rolando
could and aimed it at Rolando’s chest. ‘Don’t move,’ he said. ‘Put
your hands in the air above your head. Slowly.’

Rolando’s hand hovered over the gun handle as
he sweated.

‘Now,’ the officer said, ‘or I shoot.’ There
was no hint of an idle threat in his voice.

Rolando raised his hands slowly into the air,
gunless.

‘Miss,’ the officer said, ‘just stay still.
I’m going to get you out of there.’

Tiffany’s suspicions were confirmed – he
recognized her. News of her capture and her photo had apparently
spread all the way to the backwoods of Mississippi.

She eyed the gun that protruded from
Rolando’s clothing and cursed herself as an idea seized her. It was
an impractical idea. It was a stupid idea. It was all she could
think about. Her hand itched to take action. But why? James had
hidden big things from her after declaring her his partner. He’d
practically lied to her. Why shouldn’t she let this end and go
safely back to her old life, unharmed save for the blows to her
confidence and heart?

Because she couldn’t forget the look she’d
seen in James’ incredible blue eyes when he’d stroked her face in
the woods, that was why. She swallowed, blinked and grabbed the
gun. ‘Don’t shoot!’ she cried as she raised it, aiming it past
Rolando’s shoulder at the policeman. ‘Don’t shoot,’ she repeated.
‘Just put your gun down.’ Her hands were trembling, but she could
probably hit him at this range anyway. She broke into a cold sweat
at the thought.

The officer’s eyebrows climbed high above the
rims of his sunglass lenses. ‘I’m here to help you,’ he said,
maintaining his practiced hold on his weapon. ‘I won’t let him hurt
you.’

‘I’ll shoot if you make me,’ Tiffany said.
‘Just drop your gun.’

The officer lowered his weapon slowly. ‘Calm
down,’ he said in a steady voice, ‘I’m here to help.’

‘I don’t want to be helped!’ Tiffany cried,
and it was true. She couldn’t let James be arrested. She had to get
the cop to back down.

The officer said nothing for several moments.
‘Were you in on it from the beginning?’ he finally asked.

‘No,’ Tiffany said, surprised at how calm her
voice sounded.

‘I want in,’ the officer said.

This time, Tiffany
did
sound
surprised. ‘What?’

‘You heard me. I want in. I want a cut of the
cash.’

‘No,’ Tiffany said. Her arms were trembling.
The gun was too heavy for her to hold up for much longer.

‘You don’t have much of a choice,’ the
officer replied, ‘unless you want to go to jail.’

‘I told you I’ll shoot if I have to,’ she
reminded him, trying to ignore the queasiness that assaulted her at
the mere thought of firing the gun.

‘Go ahead,’ the officer said coldly. ‘You’ll
never make it out of Mississippi if you do. Cops would be crawling
everywhere within an hour. They’d catch you at one of the
roadblocks, unless you want to take your chance on foot in the
swamp? The gators and snakes sure would appreciate a sweet treat
like you.’ He smiled cruelly, and the hair on the back of Tiffany’s
neck stood up.

‘We made it out of New York,’ she said
stubbornly, ‘and all the way here.’

‘He’s right, Tiffany.’

Tiffany startled, nearly losing her grip on
the gun when she heard James’ deep voice. The officer whirled to
see James standing at the forest’s edge, a heavy-looking duffel bag
slung over his right shoulder and a gun in his left hand, already
trained on the officer. ‘Drop that gun,’ he commanded, ‘and we’ll
talk.’

Obviously realizing he couldn’t possibly
shoot both James and Tiffany before one or both of them fired at
him, the officer complied and his gun clattered to the ground,
raising a cloud of dust from the gravel. Tiffany shoved Rolando
aside, scrambling over him and out of the car. Her shirt gaped
before she remembered it, but the police officer was still staring
at James and didn’t see.

‘James!’ she cried, wishing with every fiber
of her being that Rolando and the police officer would just
disappear and leave her alone with him. She wanted to talk to him.
She wanted to shout at him. And she wanted to finish what they’d
started in the back seat of the car.

James shot her a meaningful glance.
Let me
handle this
, it seemed to say. She frowned. So far, James had
handled everything. But then, she
did
like seeing him move
and speak with such confidence. He didn’t tremble like she had, and
with his strong arms, he probably could have held that gun steady
until nightfall.

‘You want a cut of the cash?’ James asked.
‘Then you got it. But we’ll have to be sure you’ll keep quiet. How
do you think we should do that?’

The police officer gaped. Apparently, he
hadn’t expected the question. ‘You pay me enough and I’ll keep
quiet.’

‘Your word isn’t good enough,’ James
replied.

The police officer continued to stare at him
incredulously.

‘There’s a hospital nearby,’ James said.
Tiffany followed his gaze to where it rested on a blue and white
‘H’ sign that stood by the side of the highway, signifying that a
hospital was indeed close.

The officer stared at him. ‘Yeah, so?’

‘You’re going to call your supervisor, or
whoever you need to call,’ James explained, ‘and make a good excuse
to leave your shift to go to the hospital. Something about a family
emergency or whatever – just make it good.’

‘What then?’ the cop asked suspiciously.

‘Then you’ll drive to the hospital with one
of us riding with you in your car to make sure you don’t do
anything stupid. You’ll leave your cruiser there and come with us
in our vehicle.

‘No way!’ the officer protested.

‘We’ll give you a cut of the cash and let you
go unharmed a few hours from here. We just need to make sure we’ll
have time to get away after you start running your mouth.’

‘I told you –’ the police officer began

‘And I told
you
your word isn’t good
enough,’ James said dangerously, eyeing the officer down the length
of the gun he wielded. ‘You don’t have a choice. If you won’t
co-operate, I’ll shoot you, toss your body in the woods and take my
chances.’

‘Alright,’ the police officer said after
several long moments. ‘Fine.’

‘Make the call,’ James directed, taking a
couple steps toward the officer as he continued to hold him at
gunpoint. ‘And don’t mess it up.’

The officer fumbled at his utility belt,
finding his phone. Tiffany held her breath as he dialed. ‘I’m
sorry, sir,’ the officer said with admirable steadiness, ‘but I’m
going to have to go off the clock. Yeah, it’s an emergency. My mom,
she’s in the ER. She’s going into surgery now. You know, with my
dad gone she doesn’t have anyone else. Alright. Will do. Thank you,
sir.’

And it was done. Tiffany breathed a sigh of
relief.

‘Your belt,’ James said, ‘hand it over.’

The police officer obliged reluctantly,
relinquishing the small arsenal that held pepper spray, a radio and
a nightstick, among other items.

‘In the cruiser,’ James said as the officer
dropped his belt into the gravel, indicating the police car with a
toss of his head that sent his forelock of golden-brown hair
cascading into his eyes. ‘Rolando! Get in the car with him. Take
his gun.’