Chances Are - By Christy Reece Page 0,59
the color of decadent, dark chocolate widened with surprise. Oh yes…she was even more exquisite up close. Any remaining doubts that this was ‘the one’ disappeared.
Holding her hand to her chest, she gasped. “Oh, you startled me. I had no idea anyone was around.”
He was pleased that she spoke English. His knowledge of French was modest at best. Not being able to communicate his needs would have hindered their relationship. And her voice…it was even better than he could have anticipated. Rich, cultured, with a husky timbre. It would take almost no effort to train her.
His smile timid, he said, “I do apologize. I just moved in two doors down and can’t get my phone to work. Do you have a cellphone I could use to call the telephone company?”
“Of course.” Her head bent, she rummaged around in her purse. “I know it’s here somewhere.”
She was wearing the perfect apparel for what he needed. Her jacket, though modest, covered a beautiful low-necked blouse and gave him access to the smooth, creamy area between her neck and shoulder. He struck swiftly, jabbing the hypodermic needle deep into the muscle.
She yelped and jumped back. “What did you…?” In seconds, her eyes glazed and she stumbled backward, away from him.
He reached for her, expecting a brief, futile struggle as the drug took hold. Designed to disorient but not cause unconsciousness, his Dark Angel would be pliable and open to his suggestions within a couple of minutes. To his dismay she put up no struggle at all. Her arms went limp and her purse and grocery bag fell to the floor.
In the voice many had called beautiful and mesmerizing, he commanded, “Come with me,” and held out his hand. Once more, his Dark Angel proved that she was meant to be with him as, like magic, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her down the hallway and to the stairwell.
Anyone who saw them would believe they were a couple in love, going out for a stroll. Someday that’s how it would be. Someday very soon, she would no longer need the drugs. She would be his and he would be hers.
Opening the back of the van, he helped her inside and then uncovered the flooring where the blonde woman lay in her trunk. He felt his Dark Angel stiffen. “Don’t worry, my love. This is just a temporary home for you.”
He pushed her to her knees. She went willingly, just as he knew she would. Since the hiding space was small, he quickly removed her jacket along with any superfluous apparel. Shoving her forward, she fell on top of the blonde woman, who screeched at the intrusion. The sounds muffled by the tape covering her mouth.
He replaced the lid and then the flooring, covering the two very different looking but equally important women. One would be the culmination of his recent work and the other would be his salvation.
With every ounce of her strength, Angela fought to cling to reality while whatever drug he had injected her with worked just as hard to distort her thinking. As soon as he’d plunged the needle into her, she had begun reciting three things in her mind, repeatedly: My name is Angela Delvecchio. I work for Last Chance Rescue. LCR is tracking me—I am not alone.
If she had any chance of success, maintaining hold of this information was imperative.
Though what she wanted most to do was just drift in this euphoric wonderland the drug had created, she forced her mind to focus on tangibles. Someone was beneath her, wiggling. The compartment was filled with an impenetrable darkness and almost no additional space to move, but she managed to shift slightly, giving the woman beneath her an opportunity to breath. Smothering the victim she was supposed to rescue was probably against LCR regulations.
Rescue? Yes, she was here on a rescue mission. She had been drugged and the woman beneath her had been abducted. It was up to Angela and Jake to save her.
Jake. She focused on him, pictured his face, imagined his voice. Remembered his wonderful strength. He was her partner, her friend…her lover. She was not alone.
The body beneath her made muffled noises and it took several seconds of wondering before Angela figured out that the woman’s mouth was covered with something. Lifting a lethargic, uncooperative arm, Angela raised her hand to where the noise was located and felt something—tape. Tugging and pulling, she managed to uncover half of her mouth.
Of all the things