Undercover Engagement (8 page)

“Have it your way.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile. It was malicious; like that girl in high school who freezes everyone's bras at the sleepover.

“Ow!” A sharp stabbing pain burst in my shoulder, followed by a stinging sensation. I grabbed at my arm. “Did you shoot me?”
What the...?

“Naw.” He let go of my arm. I took two steps back before I stumbled. “It’s just a little happy juice to make you more manageable.” The garage tipped, pulling me with it. He grabbed my arm again, dragging me to the car because my legs were operating on a different frequency than my brain.

“You’re not a guardian,” I said, accusation dripping from my tone.

He laughed. “I am, in a way. I’m going to take you back to the boss for questioning. He’s been anxious to see you again.”

Do not get in the car
. Wasn’t that the rule? You fight like mad to keep the abductor from taking you to a second location. Fight? Fight! I threw my fist against the guys arm with a small shot of adrenalin. I did little damage. Arching my fingers into claws, I swiped at his face, only to be batted away like an annoying summer mosquito.

He opened the back door of the sedan, pushing me toward the seat. I braced myself against the door frame and locked my elbows. He grunted as he pushed and I grunted as I absorbed the impact.

“Help.” My voice had as much strength as my arms that were quickly turning to sludge. There was no way I was going to make it through one more shove.

My strength was gone.

I heard a screeching noise echo through the garage. Lolling my head, so I could see the vehicle entrance of the roof, I squinted at a dark shape heading straight for us. The lunatic wasn’t swerving. He was going to ram us. The backseat that – only a moment before represented a step closer to death; provided a haven from the crazed driver careening in my direction. Just as I threw myself into the sedan, pulling my knees up to my chest, the car slammed into my captor, smashing his hulk against the door. The sound of metal bending and bones crunching filled the air.

Not a second later, the door snapped from its hinges, flying across the hood. My assailant's body slid to the ground as the car backed up. 

I looked out over my feet to see Jason’s driver-side window blocking my escape route. It didn’t matter that my head was as foggy as a February morning, I’d recognize that stunning car anywhere. My tongue was too slow to yell for help. The tinted window rolled down, revealing Jason’s smiling face.

“Hey, beautiful.”

M
y stomach swung back-and-forth like a pendulum. I was
so
going to puke. I squeezed my eyes tight without ever letting them see the light of day. Darkness was much more hospitable at the moment. Clenching my jaw shut, I breathed through my nose.

“Here.” I felt something press against my hands and shoved it away. “Please don’t throw up in the car – take the cup,” said Jason.

My last conscious memories flew back to me with horrifying speed. I grabbed for the cup just as I lost my lunch – well, dinner – from the night before. Jason handed me a bottled water. Rinse and spit, rinse and spit. This sucked. I put the lid on the cup and set it between my feet on the floor. As miserable as
I
felt, I wanted to protect the car from stain.

Leaning my head against the tinted window, I allowed the cool to calm my body. Jason pulled into a gas station, in some out-of-the-way town, dumped my cup in a garbage can – wasn't that just super sweet of him – and bought a pack of gum. I watched him from the car with the doors securely locked.

“Thanks.” I took a piece of gum, chewed it, threw it out the window and started another.

“You should start to feel better soon. I found the syringe, your dose wasn’t that high.”

Swallowing, I asked, “How did you find me? Why did you find me?” The fuzz in my head receded a bit more. With every minute, I felt a little more like myself. Even my lumbering limbs became stronger.

Jason reached over and tucked a stray piece of black hair behind my ear. “The second I left you, I was over anxious. It was more than the thought of being apart, it was something stronger telling me that you were in danger. Then, I remembered the guy calling me Jason. He shouldn’t have used my name; not in a drop like that. I ducked into a store and followed the two of you back to the garage. When I saw the elevator stop, I got to the car and prayed like crazy that I would get there in time.” He shook his head. “I almost didn’t make it.”

“But, you did.” I patted his hand. “That’s three.”

He gave me a funny look.

“Three times you’ve saved my life in the last week.” I batted my eyelashes at him. “My hero.”

“It doesn’t count if I’m the reason your life is in danger.”

I sighed, suddenly exhausted.

"What about that guy? Is he dead?"

"With any luck."

"Jason." I drooped into the seat. Sure the guy was about to kidnap me, but I wasn't sure I was ready to have his death on my hands. Besides, I would probably hear the sound of his bones snapping every night for the rest of my life.

Jason took my hand. His palm was warm and I realized my hands were seriously cold. I was so tired of being cold.

"It's part of the job, Sweets. He would have killed you without a second thought."

My heart rate accelerated. I'd tangled with a murderer. Suddenly, I wanted to throw up again.

Jason turned on the heat. Within moments the cab was toasty and the heat lulled my thoughts.

“You need sleep. Go ahead, we’ve got time.”

I would have thought it would be difficult to sleep after seeing a man crushed to death, but after surviving a kidnapping, being drugged, and throwing up, I was worn thin.

I leaned the chair back and scrunched my jacket up as a pillow. “Where are we going?” I asked as the residual drugs sucked me back under.

“Las Vegas.”

T
he bright summer sun baked the Nevada pavement, and played tricks with my eyes. Even with the internal, climate-controlled 75 degree air coming from the air conditioner, the 115 degree temperature made an impression. A few brave souls made their way on foot along the famous Las Vegas Strip, but, most were crammed into cabs moving an agonizing one-inch per hour.

Looking around at the billboards and advertisements, I quickly focused my eyes back to the car in front of us. I watched Jason, but he didn’t so much as glance at the naked bodies displayed larger than life on every surface available.
Always the gentleman
.

“What are we doing in Vegas?” I drained my water bottle.

“Dropping off the flash drive. I missed my first appointment. The backup is scheduled for later tonight.”

“Am I going to get a real guardian this time?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, you’re staying with me.”

“Why?”

“We didn’t have time to set it up. I’ll drop this with Mr. Stone and then we’ll figure out what to do with you.”

What to do with you
. The phrase echoed in my head.
What was I, a lost puppy?
For whatever reason, I still felt like I needed to stay with Jason; it wasn’t right for us to be apart. I set the empty water bottle in the cup holder. “I don’t want another guardian.”

“I know, Sweets, but we have to keep you safe.”

Folding my arms, I tabled the argument – for now. Jason pulled around one of the big casinos, I didn’t see which one, and into a parking garage. I shivered, hearing the sound of broken glass and bones again. I twisted in my seat, so I could see all around the car. Every dark SUV was a threat.
Great, now I am going to have some strange fear of parking garages.

Jason helped me out of the car, making sure I could stand on my own. I’d slept off the drugs and felt strangely refreshed. Taking my hand, Jason led the way into the casino/hotel. It was one of the posh casinos, not the seedy ones they put on cop shows. The tiled entrance gave way to gaudy carpet and golden light fixtures. 

The fake noise of coins dropping into the tin winners’ boxes clinked and clanked through the air. College girls in short skirts jumped up and down making it obvious that they wore flimsy bikini tops under their shirts. Older couples ignored their squeals and the whole place smelled like an empty ashtray.

Jason walked past the check-in counter where a group of elderly men and women waited to get their complimentary lanyards and gambling cards. There was an escalator with a sign that indicated the buffet was one level up. I wasn’t quite hungry, though I knew that wouldn’t last long. Not far into the building, we veered towards the day spa.

“Another makeover?” I asked.

“Don’t say I don’t pamper you.” He smiled.

“Monte! Monte!” a spunky-looking woman with a pixy haircut and a too tight halter top wrapped Jason in her willowy arms breaking our hands apart. I was too shocked to do anything but stare.

“Hello, Sparkle,” said Jason.

Sparkle? Seriously?
I bit my tongue. If you can’t say anything nice …

“I got your text. Come, come, everything is ready.” She led Jason off to the men’s locker room while I stood awkwardly in the reception area, wondering what I was supposed to do.

“Go, go shower off that wonderful snake.” She held the door open longer than necessary taking in an appreciative perusal of my guardian/sort of fiancé. Jason turned his back to her and pulled off his shoes. I cleared my throat.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming.” She walked across the hall, opening the door to the women’s locker room. “Well?” she demanded.

I stalked past her.

“Shower, dress, come out,” she commanded, holding the door open.

My jeans were practically painted on and there was no way they'd peel off without taking my underwear with them. I stared until she shut the door

The shower was a welcome treat. My pretty little butterflies streaked off my wrist and down the drain. The water didn’t stay clear for long. The temporary black hair color lathered and rinsed away after two good shampoos. The expensive conditioner filled the shower with the scent of mangos.

Once cleaned, dried, and lotioned, I found my new clothes in a pile on the counter; a pair of cowboy boots sat nearby. I grinned.
We’re goin’ country
. After checking the tag, I groaned – not more tight pants. I just got the black ones stretched. The jeans slid on without complaint.
Huh
. Well, I hadn’t eaten for almost twenty-four hours. Not to mention I threw up what I ate so that means I’m probably dehydrated, too. My stomach tightened and I realized that thinking about food had sparked the need for sustenance. There was no telling when I’d be able to eat, so, I ignored the gnawing feeling in my gut and buttoned up the pants.

I threw on the cami and plaid shirt, slid on the boots, buckled the western style belt, and took a look in the mirror. My hair hung in wet clumps, but it was back to the nice cinnamon brown I paid for every six weeks. My skin looked pale in the fluorescent lights, but it was clean.

I turned for a quick check of the rear view and groaned. The pants were too high to do much for my body type, but they did look authentic. The boots were stunning. I would never dare wear them out to the barn to do chores, they were too darn pretty.

The belt was equally dazzling. Pink rhinestones studded every inch of the expensive leather. 

Sparkle met me in the hall. She looked me up and down. “Come, come, we have a lot of work to do to make you presentable.”

I rolled my eyes behind her.

“Sit.” She pointed to her beauty chair. A small assistant took my hand to work on my nails. Before long, the purple polish disappeared and a basic French manicure was drying under the fan.

Meanwhile, Sparkle dried my hair and then braided it tight to my scalp. Pursing her lips, she pulled out a long, blonde wig which she attached so tightly to my head that by the time she was done I had a headache. Of course, it didn’t help that my blood sugar was so low I got dizzy when I turned my head too fast. But, my mom would have been proud of Sparkle’s bobby pin skills. I closed my eyes against the pounding while she styled the wig.

“Just keep your eyes shut while Dusty does your makeup.” Sparkle snapped.

I nodded once. The less I talked to Sparkle the better. Brushes tickled my eyelids, cheeks, and lips. I could only imagine what they were doing to me.  

“Okay, okay, you can open your eyes now.”

I hesitated. Who would I see in the mirror this time? I heard people scatter before I looked. Staring back from the mirror was a southern beauty. Her long blonde hair hung in large ringlets half-way down her back and she had eyelashes a mile long. I laughed because I didn’t recognize myself. I looked like the high school rodeo queen I'd secretly hated in high school because she had big hair and a perfect figure. After one more spin in front of the mirror, I was totally feeling it and I strutted out of there as confident as a rooster in a hen house.

Sparkle didn't stick around for my reveal. Her staff hurried off to make the next big tip and I was none too sad to see them leave. I grabbed the oversized leather purse and headed for the entrance.

“Monte, Monte, can’t you stay for just a while longer?” Sparkle held onto Jason’s arm, pressing her body up against him. If she held on any tighter he'd need shaving cream and a safety razor to get her off.

“Sorry, Sparkle, I’ve got an appointment to get to.”

Jason caught sight of me in the doorway. He turned away and then turned back fast, like he didn’t recognize me at first. His jaw dropped. Not bothering to excuse himself from Sparkle, he walked to me without breaking eye contact. His boots echoed across the tile. He leaned in close and I was caught up in his eyes. “It
is
you,” he whispered.

I giggled. Jason looked adorable with the neatly trimmed beard and dark cowboy hat. I reached up, cupping his scruffy cheek with my palm just to see if the hair was real or if it was painted on. It was real.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I like it.” I smiled. He looked like the cover of every western romance novel I'd ever seen. This was a much better disguise than the grubby bad boy look he'd sported on the way here. I could get used to looking at this guy. But then, would I really be looking at Jason? I kept my smile on, but wondered, when this was all over, who would show up at my door.

“C’mon.” He grabbed my hand. “Thanks, Sparkle.” He waved over his shoulder, his eyes locked on me. I’m sure Sparkle answered, but I was too busy getting lost in Jason’s eyes to see – or care – if she heard.