His Southern Temptation - By Robin Covington Page 0,69

then.”

“What?”

“When you really love someone you make it work. Nobody walks away. No one ends it no matter what.” Mr. Clean shrugged. “You must not have really loved him.”

He was wrong. She loved Lucky. Taylor set aside the food, her appetite gone with the knowledge of what she’d thrown away. He’d offered her everything and she’d been too scared to take the leap of faith. The long night on this cot had forced her to face what really mattered, and she’d been hung up on the wrong things. She should have believed in Lucky, even if love still gave her the chills at how fickle it could be. Lucky was a rock. Always had been. Always would be.

She stood up, legs shaky from disuse, but her voice was as clear as she could make it through her emotions. “You need to let me go. We both know he’s going to come for me and he could get hurt. I can’t let that happen.”

“So you do love him then.” Mr. Clean smiled briefly, an odd quirk of his lips, but he stood fast. “But you’re not getting out of here until he brings the money and this all ends. Then we can all move on.”

Something in his voice made her pause. Something layered under the determination to keep her here—a personal motive—something more than employee loyalty.

“What’s in this for you? What kind of scene is Lucky walking into?” Taylor felt her blood pressure rise with her fear. Something wasn’t what it seemed.

Mr. Clean opened his mouth to answer, but a knock at the door stopped him. Bodean Taggert’s voice drifted through the door.

“It’s time. Landon is here.”

“No.” Taylor backed up, her knees hitting the side of the cot where she collapsed. “Call this off. Please.” She looked up at the passive face of Mr. Clean, willing to beg if she needed to. “Please.”

“Come on.” He leaned over, grasping her by the arm and hefting her on her feet. “If your man plays by the rules, you’ll be walking out of here together.”

Taylor prayed, knowing it was the only thing that could make this okay.

Because Lucky Landon had never played by the rules in his whole life, and he wasn’t about to start now.

…

“Eddie, I’ve got your money. Let her go.”

Lucky stood in the middle of the Jolly Gent with his gun in his holster. His duffel bag, filled with two hundred thousand dollars, was on the table. He would have brought more if that was what it took to get Taylor out of here safely.

He’d made plans. Mapped out entrances and exits. Opened the trunk he’d stored in the barn at the farm and assembled weapons he thought he’d never use again. He was ready to go in guns blazing, but he couldn’t do it. It was risky and Taylor might get hurt. That prospect was unthinkable.

“I can’t believe you made this so easy.” Eddie reclined in a chair at the edge of the stage with Mr. Clean just behind him. He smiled with the confidence of a man who’d won the game, and Lucky resisted the urge to knock his teeth down his throat.

“Prove she’s unhurt and I’ll hand over the money,” Lucky said, the words gritty in his mouth.

Eddie chuckled, nodding to Mr. Clean, who pushed a remote and opened the curtains shielding the back part of the stage. Taylor sat on a chair, her hands bound with zip ties. She was tired, clothes wrinkled, but appeared unhurt. He breathed again.

They stared at each other across the room and the spark of answering relief in her eyes made his heart squeeze. Brave girl—she was scared but holding it together. He loved her more in that moment than he thought possible, and he was more determined to make sure she walked away from this in one piece. If that meant she walked away from him, then that was how it had to be.

Mr. Clean dropped the remote on the table with a loud thunk and crossed his arms over his chest. Lucky was itching to take this guy down—something about him was off, and he got the definite impression that the truly dangerous one in the room was that guy. Eddie might think he was the puppet master, but this guy was only dancing to the tunes he picked out himself.

Lucky got back to the task at hand. “Okay, Eddie. There’s two hundred grand in this bag. I’m not staying around for you to count it. You’ll have to trust