Safe. I’m safe.
OramI?
No sooner am I upright again, my body pressed hard against that of my rescuer, I find myself being pushed forward, and then lifted clean off my feet. I can’t see whose arms are holding me, but, whoever it is, the small crowd of photographers are intimidated enough to step aside for them as they push their way through the tangle of bodies, to a long black car which sits purring by the side of the road.
A long black car which opens like a trap, one of its door yawning wide in a way that feels more threatening than inviting to me.
Oh, hell to the no. I amnotgoing in there.
Too late, I kick back against the person carrying me, struggling desperately against arms that barely even flinch as I rain blows down on them.
“Hey,” I yell, finally finding my voice as I reach the car. “Put me down or I’ll… I’ll…”
But I have no idea what I’m going to do to get out of this situation. And before I can say another word, I’m inside the limo, which screeches away from the kerbside before I can come up with a suitably threatening end to my outburst.
I… think I might be being kidnapped?
And now I’mdefinitelygoing to be sick…
Chapter 7
“Miss Steele? Would you like some water?”
I raise my head from between my knees, where I’ve been desperately trying not to throw up, and find myself looking straight into the cool blue eyes of a gray-haired man in an expensive suit, who doesn’t look remotely like a kidnapper. He looks like someone’s granddad, actually. And also vaguely familiar.
“Silver Fox!” I blurt, my body snapping abruptly upright as I realize where I know him from. “You were in the bar last night with three point… with… ummm… you know.”
It’s not like me to lose the power of speech, but given that I’ve just seen myself named on TMZ as Jett Carter’s latest “flame”, before being bundled unceremoniously into the back of a limo, I’m sure he can forgive me just this once.
“I do know,” says Silver Fox, his eyebrows rising slightly as he looks at me appraisingly. “If you don’t mind, though, I prefer Asher to — what was it? ‘Silver Fox’?” He speaks the last two words as if they taste bad on his tongue. “Asher Ford,” he continues, holding out an elegant hand, which I shake warily, noting how soft his skin feels. “And this is Jett’s assistant, Miss Sullivan.”
My eyes swivel curiously to his left, where a woman around my age with a kind face and slightly anxious expression is smiling at me encouragingly.
“Grace,” she says warmly, offering me her hand, which I shake a little more enthusiastically, before turning to the third figure in the car — a muscled giant of a man who looks like he’s having to bend double in order to squash himself into the seat.
“And I believe you’ve already met Leroy,” says Silver Fox — sorry, but I just can’t think of him as anything else now — as the figure in question gives me a cheerful grin, followed by a fist bump.
“Sorry ‘bout that back there,” says Leroy, nodding in the direction of the coffee shop, which has long since receded behind us. ‘I figured picking you up was the fastest way to get you out of there. You hardly weight nothin’, in any case.”
I return his easy smile, allowing myself to relax slightly. I’ve no idea what this is about, but these people are obviously connected to Jett, so I’m pretty sure I’m not being kidnapped. Nevertheless, I havequestions. Lots of questions. Like…
“Where are you taking me?” I ask suspiciously, turning back to Silver Fox, who’s tapping something urgently into his phone. “And how do you know my name? Or where I’d be this morning?”
“I know everything about you, Miss Steele,” says Silver Fox coolly, not bothering to look up at me. “Or everything worth knowing, at least.”
“Okay, you can cut the James Bond villain crap,” I tell him, folding my arms across my chest defiantly. “I’m not here for it. And you’re not pulling it off, anyway. You need a white cat on your lap if you want to go down the ‘evil mastermind’ route.”
Opposite me, Grace giggles in horrified delight, before clamping her hand over her mouth and glancing wide-eyed at Silver Fox, who looks ever-so-slightly put out as he reaches up to straighten his tie.
“Yes, well,” he says stiffly. “As I was saying, it’s my job to find out things, and—”
“No, it ain’t,” says Leroy, slapping him genially on the back and almost pushing him off the slippery leather seat of the limo in the process. “It’s your job to make money for Jett and his pa. Tell the lady the truth now.”
He grins widely, and Silver clears his throat, annoyed.
“Mr. Ford is Jett’s agent,” Grace offers, glancing nervously at him. “Well, he’s Mr. CarterSenior’sagent, really, but—”
“I work for both of the Carters,” Silver snaps, recovering himself. “Although not normally in this particular, er,capacity,” it has to be said.
