“Will, back to you.”
6
Evie wanted to scream and yet didn’t want to give Wyatt the satisfaction. She was caught in the back seat of an SUV, with no idea what the hell was going on. She’d been talking with Wyatt one minute and then he’d used her as a shield. Against men with guns. A howl built in her throat, fighting to break free.
Behind them there was more shouting and she could barely make out the casino security team hesitating near the doors. The man near the front passenger door fired his gun, the horrible sound cracking through the blowing wind. She looked up, afraid of the worst, but she didn’t see blood or any sign that the bullets had hit any of the men.
“Let me out! Let me go, please.” She hated begging, but she had to get out of here before they were off casino property. “Please, Wyatt.” The big SUV rolled forward and she scrambled to climb over him, but he pushed her back down. She kicked at the man behind her as he climbed in and closed the door, but he barely noticed.
“So you do know each other,” the man up front said. “I thought you might.” To the driver, he gave the order to go.
“Please let me out,” she said again.
Wyatt was a criminal. She was trapped in a car full of criminals. She forced herself to note details of the strangers so she could give the police an accurate description whenever she got out of this. The driver, with his pale blond buzz cut, chapped cheeks, and square face reminded her of one of those cross-country skiers from Norway. Except she quickly realized he couldn’t drive in the snow. The man beside her was bulky and bigger than Wyatt. He had a pleasant, but forgettable face and his dark brown hair was short, not unlike any number of businessmen who sat down at her table for a game of poker.
This couldn’t be happening. Of all the wicked curve balls life had thrown at her, this was the most insulting. The most inexplicable. The absurdity sank in and she fought back with all the steel she could muster. “Let me out,” she demanded, her tone flat and calm.
Up front, the man in charge buckled his seatbelt. Twisting around, he stuck out his hand as if they were two professionals being introduced at a meeting. The gun across his lap mocked the pleasant expression on his face. “Miss Cotton, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last. Tate Cordell.”
Tate Cordell?No. Way. “This isn’t happening,” she muttered. This man couldn’t be Tate. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe it. I didn’t expect to meet you here. Not like this. But our Wyatt is full of surprises.” Her stomach curdled at the admiration in his tone. “That was a brilliant move.”
“Absolutely the last brilliant thing you’ll do,” she vowed under her breath. She was getting out of here, even if it meant hiking back to the casino in her heels. Frostbite was better than whatever they had planned.
Wedged between Wyatt and the other man in the back seat, she leaned forward and batted aside the boss’s outstretched hand. “You can’t be Tate Cordell. The real Tate emailed me thismorning. He’s a reputable investor currently waiting out the storm in Rapid City.”
The man slapped the driver in the shoulder. “See, Baker, I told you it was believable.”
“Guess I owe you twenty bucks.” Baker glanced at her in the rearview mirror, an unsavory glint in his gaze.
“But you sent the money.”
“You make an affordable patsy,” Tate said, as if ten grand was petty cash. “We gave ourselves a tour of your staging barn. Looks good. And your business proposal is sound. If I were legit it would’ve been a smart investment. Go ahead and keep the money. For the assist out of the casino and the general inconvenience.”
Rattled, it took her several seconds to process his words. One of these men broke into the barn last night. This morning she’d had hope. Now she was a hostage, surrounded by criminals, and if she survived this, her business might be lost anyway. She couldn’t build up a legitimate business on a foundation of criminal funding.
She lunged at Tate, ready to claw the smirk right off his face. The stranger to her left hauled her back. “Get your hands off me!” Before she realized his intention, he’d looped a plastic tie around her wrists and zipped it tight.
“Is that necessary, Karl?” Wyatt asked. “Where can she go?” He wriggled around, buckling the seatbelt under her hands and over her lap.
“Gee, thanks. Now you’re thinking of my safety?”
“Always.”
She glared at him, refusing to dignify that outrageous lie with any kind of response. Unable to bear looking at him, she deliberately turned her gaze to the windshield. How many mistakes could one woman make? She’d trusted Wyatt when they were kids and he’d crushed her. Yes, she’d vetted TateCordell as an investor and clearly been fooled by the details available online.
The back end of the SUV shimmied as Baker took a turn too fast through the wet, compacted snow. “Do you even know how to drive in these conditions?”
“He’s fine,” Tate barked.
“At this rate, your driver will kill us before you can spend the cash you stole.”
“You think I showed up for a little petty theft?” He snorted. “We just stole a fortune in diamonds, including the Mae West Solitaire.”
Baker and Karl gave a cheer, but she noticed Wyatt’s reticence. It was hardly enough to explain or excuse his involvement here. According to the press during that era Mae West claimed the diamond was too big to wear often and too small to be cursed. At the moment, it felt pretty cursed to Evie.
“Karl come on with the gear.” Tate snapped his fingers. “I’m cold.”
