Virgin In Disguise. Rosemary Heim
hallucinations, he needed his brain back. Until he could think straight, he’d buy a little time and follow his rescuer’s urgings. At least he was out of the handcuffs.
He stood, swayed and caught himself on the headboard.
Elf rounded the bed and slipped her arm around his waist, grabbing his belt to support some of his weight. “C’mon.”
He draped an arm over her shoulders as she practically dragged him across the room to the door. She paused to peek outside, then pulled him down the hall to the head of the stairs.
“Do you think you can make it down without falling and killing yourself?”
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath, clearing his head a little more. A faint scent teased his nose, but he couldn’t make a connection that made any sense. Time enough for that later. First things first, and that meant getting out of wherever it was he’d been held.
Leaning against the railing and Elf equally, he managed to get to the bottom of the steps without incident. “See? No problem.” He didn’t try to repress the foolish grin he shot her way.
She surprised him with a grin of her own, which revealed a dimple in her cheek.
“Told you.” He met her gaze and his smiled faded. “You have beautiful eyes. Are they real?”
She chuckled, a husky murmur that sent a shiver of interest streaking down his chest.
“They’re real. Rusty’s over here.”
He stumbled to a halt. “Who’s Rusty?” Maybe it would be better if he just parted company with her now, sexy laugh or not. No sense getting tangled up with yet another stranger.
Elf glanced up at him. “Rusty is a what, not a who.” She tugged on his belt and got him moving again. They rounded the corner of the building and he spotted a seventies-era Mustang with rusted out spots, a coat hanger for an antenna and a pair of fuzzy, red dice dangling from the rearview mirror.
He looked down at Elf and raised an eyebrow. “Rusty.”
“Yepper.” She opened the passenger door and pointed. “Hop in.”
He eased into the seat. It was a tight fit, but he wasn’t about to complain. As long as the bucket of bolts held together, and he got as far away from his kidnapper as he could.
She slammed the door shut. He got his first focused look at her as she trotted around the car to the driver’s door. Her cherry-red cropped T-shirt teased the low-riding waist of her rumpled tan cargo pants. Thick-soled sneakers finished the outfit. She looked… “How old are you?”
“Legal and then some in every state.” She leaned across him, snagged the passenger seat belt and pulled it across his lap. While she fumbled with the latch, he slumped into the seat, enjoying her closeness and the warm scent of vanilla that clung to her skin.
Memory surfaced just as she settled back into her seat and latched her own seat belt. “Aw, hell.” He tried to raise his left arm. The handcuff had him manacled to the frame of the car seat, next to the seat belt buckle. “It’s you.”
Elf turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life. “Perfect timing.” She pulled away from the curb.
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
She shrugged as she turned onto a busy one-way street. “I needed to get you out of there with a minimum of fuss. Your hungover cotton-brain zoned in on the clues it had to work with and produced the desired results. You’re here and we’re on our way.”
“This is kidnapping, you know.”
She pulled a pair of sunglasses off the dashboard and slipped them on, hiding behind them.
“False imprisonment.” He took another poke at her, testing her level of discomfort.
She turned left onto another busy street. Lyndale, he realized, as they drove past the coffee shop and tattoo parlor. They were headed towards downtown. Maybe she was going to take him to the county jail after all.
“I’m a bail bond enforcer.” She enunciated each word. “I’ve taken you into custody, not kidnapped you.” That she didn’t like the situation came through loud and clear.
She eased up on the gas as they neared an intersection with a red light. The signal changed to green and she sped up again.
“Except, I’ve never jumped bail, and you said your client was a private party. That doesn’t work so well, does it?”
Traffic slowed in front of them. He spotted a police car parked on the cross street and, for a split second, considered trying to signal for help or trying to overpower her. But he wanted to find out who her client was more than he wanted to escape. At the moment, anyway.
She changed lanes to bypass the backup of cars turning into and out of the Wedge Co-op parking lot, then shifted back into the right lane in time to squeak through a yellow light. They hit the on-ramp to Highway 94, heading east.
“Where are you taking me?”
“I told you earlier, before we left.”
“Yeah, well, the last few hours are pretty hazy, thanks to the drug-induced stupor I seem to be in. Why don’t you refresh my memory?”
A gap in traffic opened and she changed to the exit lane for Highway 35W north. “My employer didn’t expect me to catch up with you quite so quick.”
“Gee, I’m sorry I was such an easy mark. If I’d known I was being hunted, maybe I could have made it more of a challenge for you.”
She ignored his sarcasm. “He’s not ready to meet with you and asked me to take you out of town for a few days, until he has some other details in order.”
“If all he wanted was a meeting, why the kidnapping?”
She clenched her jaw. “This isn’t a kidnapping.”
“You couldn’t tell by me.” He rattled the handcuff. “From where I’m sitting, it sure feels like one.”
She glanced at him but didn’t respond.
“Come on, Elf. Give me a good reason, just one, why I don’t turn you in for what has got to be a major ethical breach.”
This time she glared at him. “Elf?”
That got a rise out of her. He smiled. “It seemed to fit when you were crouched next to the bed. I’ll admit, you’re a bit tall for an elf, but you’re still plenty shorter than I am.”
“There is nothing elfish about me.”
“I don’t know. You’ve got the pixie haircut, a pointy chin, big eyes. The bleach job and nose ring aren’t quite in keeping with the concept, but I’m a tolerant guy and can allow a little creative license in the interpretation.”
She snorted—a decidedly unelfish expression.
“Maybe,” Frank continued, “if I knew your name, I wouldn’t have to make one up for you.”
“Angel.” The road split, and she shifted lanes again, staying with the northbound traffic.
“Angel. No, I don’t think so.” Frank looked her over. “What happened to your long, brown hair? And your gray eyes?”
“They served their purpose. As did the auburn curls, the black pageboy, the brown eyes, the green eyes.”
A soft whistle escaped his lips. He leaned toward her and studied her features in profile. Satisfied, he nodded and settled back against the seat. “You’ve been following me for a few days, haven’t you?”
“Almost a full week, actually.” She flicked a glance in his direction. “You lead a particularly uneventful and rather predictable existence.”
“Like I said, if I’d known