She couldn’t think. He was sounding more like an immortal than ever, and now what was she going to do? “Money is good, too.”
“Maybe. You hungry? We didn’t get breakfast.”
There he was again, making sure she was all right. It was decent that he’d changed the subject, too. She jumped on it. “Yeah. I don’t suppose you can cook.”
His grin flashed quick and smooth. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had my blueberry pancakes. I’m about to make you very happy.”
The promise went deeper than that, and she could almost touch it. So she backed away. “I’m not one for sharing.”
“You’ll learn.”
She blinked. “What I’m trying to say—”
“I know what you’re trying to say,” he said, pulling into his driveway. “You’ve been alone for a long time and you’ve never relied on anyone. Especially a man. I’ll give you time to work through it, Tabi. But I won’t let you run, so get that out of your head right away.” Even with the threat, his voice remained soft and kind—with absolutely no give.
“If I ran, you wouldn’t find me,” she challenged.
“Want to bet?” he asked.
Definitely. Oh, she couldn’t run right now with her factory, but someday, they were going to play that game. It hit her then. She had started planning with him. How had he done that? Her mind spinning, she stepped out of the car and didn’t feel the threat until it was too late.
A multitude of darts impacted her side, shooting down her legs. “Evan,” she whispered, trying to turn and see him.
His roar of raw fury sounded more animalistic than anything she’d ever heard. So many darts showed on his face and down his torso that she couldn’t count them all. The blue of his gaze, primal and desperate, was the last thing she saw before the darkness pulled her down.
It swirled around her, while nausea rippled through her stomach. The ground was hard and the rain soft. Grunting, she flipped all the way to her back, letting the cool droplets plaster her face and along her body. She couldn’t move her hands or feet. The hum of her vehicle, still running, competed with the rustling wind and strengthening rain.
Good. The stronger the storm, the better.
The drugs from the darts coursed through her body, rendering her limbs useless and her mind fuzzy. Darkness swam in from the edges of her brain, and she fought hard to remain semi-conscious.
Her temples pounded like she’d been punched as her body tried to diffuse the drugs.
Where was Evan? She could only hear the BMW and the rain storm. Finally, she could wriggle her fingers. Then her toes. Preparing for the pain, she blinked open her eyes.
Even though the day was cloudy, the light pierced right to her brain in sharp agony. She moaned and rolled to her side, gagging several times but keeping the coffee down. How long had she lain there? Slowly, painfully, she pushed to sit, accidentally knocking her head against the passenger side door. “Evan?” she called.
Only the rain and the engine echoed back. She pulled the darts out to drop on the ground.
Heaving, her stomach rolling, she curled her hands over the tire and pulled herself to stand. She staggered around the front of the car, balancing herself by holding on to the hood. She reached the other side and found rainy cement. No Evan.
She shook her head, trying to focus. It took three times for her to be able to open the driver’s door, and she flopped into the seat, twisting the ignition off.
A note was stuck to the steering wheel. Taking a deep breath, she slowly unfolded it, her hands shaking. As she read, she forced bile back down her throat. Tears filled her eyes—either from pain or fear, she wasn’t sure. The note was short and to the point.
The Popovs had Evan, and they’d cut off his head within sixty minutes if she didn’t bring the prototype to them. She looked at the clock.
The note had been left more than an hour ago.
Chapter 14
Evan awoke face down on a dirt floor. He turned his head and coughed out dust before sitting up.
“Hello, Sleeping Beauty,” came a low voice.
Evan shook his head, trying to remember where he was. Back in Afghanistan? He couldn’t concentrate. His stomach lurched, and he rolled to the side, coming up to his knees and then his feet. He swayed but remained standing in a perfectly square metal cell—the box kind that’s moveable. He wiped dirt out of his eyes and focused to see Lance Popov on the other side. “Where’s Tabitha?”
“We took you and not her,” Lance replied.
