CHAPTER TWO
Rule #3. Never let a strange woman warm her hands on your body.
But his “fiancé” was cold. She had complained about the lack of heat reaching the back of the car. Their captors hadn’t paid attention to her request to turn up the heat. So she’d snuggled even closer to him and slipped one cold hand under his jacket. Then she’d proceeded to move around quite freely, her nails lightly scratching him under the material.
The little minx was looking for weapons. She wouldn’t find any there, but if her hand traveled any lower—Walker didn’t even want to consider whether she would do that. He sucked in his breath as fingers moved above his belt, pausing momentarily at the beeper hooked there.Please don’t take it off. She didn’t. The hand moved down to his pants pocket. This scientist was a lot more innovative than he’d first thought.
He tried not to react to her at all. Once he got her to safety, he was going to have a long talk with Nadine Kincaid about taking advantage of a man. He might even retaliate. Hell, the woman had a kinky side. Who knew, from her proper and staid file photos?
Why was the FBI interviewing some Russians about DARPA scientists? They’d told Jared it had to do with a missing one, and they needed some eyes on all personnel who had any communication with said person while they figured certain things out at their end.
Walker looked at the other men in the car. Russians, huh? The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, or DARPA, did all kinds of advanced technology, some of which were commissioned by the military. They reported to the Department of Defense, so that was the connection to the FBI. According to the FBI intel, Nadine Kincaid was not first tier in military tech research. Her expertise was mainly on something called the microbioem and she was working on a virtual reality project that would help paraplegics and wounded veterans to deal with injuries.
Yet, these Russians targeted her. If this Dr. Kantor was top-tier and was the kidnapped scientist, why didn’t he know Dr. Kincaid wouldn’t be in the kind of research work in which these Russians were probably interested? Or, was she?
He looked down at his amazingly-calm-for-a-kidnapee companion, who had undone two buttons and had her now warmed handinsidehis shirt. Nothing about her added up. He was determined to ask some tough questions when the opportunity arose. Fingers tickled his belly button. Damn it. There had to be a rule about strange women playing with a tough guy’s belly button.
The miles went by and it was way past lunch time. Walker had gone without food and water, as well as bumpy transport along lonely trails, for long periods before, so the hours of being in a confined space didn’t affect him. Instead, he took note of where they were being taken. The fact that these guys didn’t think it necessary to blindfold them was a bit worrisome. It could mean they didn’t care if Nadine and he knew where they were heading. That could also mean they didn’t think their prisoners were going to be allowed to go free.
The vehicle was heading into the countryside. Normally, he would enjoy the Virginian scenery. This was what he missed most when he was in the desert—miles and miles of hillside green with picturesque old houses. But now he only took in the landmarks, which got fewer. The traffic became lighter.
The Russian turned. “We stop for a break,” he said curtly in his thick accent. “Lady, you get five minutes in the restroom and come out or we kill your fiancé. Then your turn. In, out, or we kill her.”
“But five minutes?” Nadine asked, looking aghast. Her voice lowered into that register that gave Walker the sudden urge for a long, cold drink. “I beg you, Mister Kidnapper, can I have more time? It takes a girl longer to take off her clothes. Especially these tight leather pants.”
That voice made all the Russians look at her, even the one driving. She cocked her head, looking back at them. Didn’t the woman remember they had guns?
“Anyway, I don’t have a phone to call for help,” she continued to plead her case. “What do you think I would do, climb out of some window and ruin my new pants? I just need to freshen up.”
“There are no windows in that bathroom,” the other Russian said.
“There you go. No windows,” she repeated. “I can have a nice long pee without a timer, right?”
Walker almost choked again. He could not believe he was hearing a negotiation of bathroom time. The woman was insane.
The big Russian actually cracked a smile. “We also have your...Honey Bun Bun. You hurry or he’s ex-Honey Bun Bun.” He slashed his neck with a finger. “Understand?”
“Oh,comprende, totally. Too bad you don’t speak Spanish, so I can practice on you. I’ve been looking for someone to help me with pronunciation.”
She then went into the sexiest countdown Walker had ever heard. Even her pauses in between as she tried to remember was sexy to watch. All of them sat there, mesmerized, anticipating each number.
The thug turned to his partner and spoke in Russian, “With that voice, I might just kill her Honey Bun Bun and take his place.”
The other man rubbed his short beard and agreed, “With that voice or not, she’s pretty fucking hot, but not sure whether I want to be called Honey Bun Bun during sex.”
Walker was good at pretending not to understand another language. That Nadine Kincaid had dangerous men eating out of her hand was not difficult to see, though.
She patted him on the chin when the vehicle stopped. “Stay,” she ordered, her voice so low and soft, it was a caress. She darted a glance at the briefcase by his feet. “Do not make a move while I go pee.”
He nodded. She was warning—no, ordering—him not to try to try to break the two of out the situation. What the hell was she up to?
* * *
It was a small convenience store restroom, the one that was outside, so even if she wanted to summon help from the store owner, it would be highly risky under the watchful eyes of the one Russian hanging outside.
Nadia looked around. Despite what Nadine had yelled about her hare-brained idea, she hadn’t gone into this unprepared. She’d gotten her operations chief to help keep track of her. The flat device, cleverly disguised as a metallic button on her outfit, was difficult to detect with ordinary tracker wands. T. would stop by this bathroom later to look for notes.
First order of things was to check up on a Walker Stillings for her, if that was his real name. She did pick his pocket while patting down that nice body of his. The man had abs of steel and from feeling around that flat tummy, had very little fat on him. He hadn’t objected when she palmed his cards. That could mean they were all fake IDs but right now, looking at them, they seemed real enough.
