“You hired me for a job, right?” Then he smirked and added, “Besides, if I get placed with her, it’s my ass. Not yours, yeah?”
“Hmm. We should really talk about what happened the last time one of my men crossed me.” Patrick smiled. “Not that you would. But you seem interested in being informed.”
“Well, seeing as how my . . . livelihood is at stake, I figure being informed is the wise thing to do, don’t you? Only stupid men and trusting fools operate in the dark.” Joss paused. “I’m neither one.”
“So I see.” Patrick glanced past him, an odd light entering his eyes. “Hmm. Would you care to meet my fiancée, Mr. Sellers?”
Joss swallowed the automatic response that rose to his lips. There was either a bitch dumb enough or greedy enough to marry this shark . . . which was it? He was betting on greedy. Even the brainless had survival instincts and this man was dangerous.
Tucking his phone away, he stepped aside. “I’d be delighted.”
He glanced around, eyeing the thick crowd. It wouldn’t be that hard to lose himself in this mess, he figured. In the next twenty minutes or so, he could break away from Patrick. Work the crowd a little, although—
His spine heated.
His breath hitched without him even realizing it and his heart started to slam against his ribs.
Oh, fuck, no.
She couldn’t be here.
But even as he thought it, he found himself remembering that godawful fear he’d felt coming from her. The way she’d looked at him . . . You can’t help me.
If any group of people spelled bad news, it was the people that Patrick Whitmore ran with. But how had she gotten involved . . .
Patrick was slowing to a stop near a long, leggy brunette. She was facing away from them, but at his touch, she turned.
If Joss hadn’t had years, years upon years, of schooling his every emotion, he would have lost it.
Just plain and simply lost it.
No.
Just . . . no.
I’m spoken for.
The soft sigh in her voice as she said, Damn you, why couldn’t you have come into my life a year ago? Two years ago? Why now? I can’t have you now.
Her eyes widened just a fraction, and he saw her lips part.
“Darling, this is a business associate of mine,” Patrick said, sliding an arm around her waist. “Mike Sellers.”
Something darted through her eyes. He almost heard the words forming in her mind.
Stepping forward, he caught her hand. “I’m charmed,” Joss drawled. “Patrick, your fiancée is absolutely lovely.”
“Isn’t she?” Patrick stroked a hand down her arm, the way he might have stroked a beloved cat.
And all the while, Dru just stared at him, her pale green eyes locked on his face. Like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
* * *
JOSS . . .
Patrick said his name was Mike—
Oh, like that wanker would actually tell the utter truth if he knew it.
But Joss . . .
Swallowing, she extricated her hand from Joss’s, although just then, she was almost desperate for his strength. “Business associates, are you? Have you worked together long then?”
No. Not his strength . . . not his. Not if he was working with Patrick. What had he said? His job. Complicated. The slimy, evil wanker.
“Just starting out, love,” Patrick said. He patted her shoulder. “Nothing you’d be able to follow, though.”
Of course not. I can’t comprehend kidnapping—
Flash, flash, flash.
A delivery . . .
Images of a girl, the light, creamy brown of a woman of mixed heritage. Freckles sprinkled across her nose. A charming smile.
And . . . most gut-wrenching of all, Joss’s voice . . . I met her at the food court. She’s here on vacation. Was supposed to come with a friend and the friend had to cancel. Nobody will be looking for her for the next ten days. When he spoke, there was an ugly, menacing hate in his voice.
She stumbled and slammed a hand down, bracing it by the curving wall of the stairwell at her back as the memory burned itself into her brain, followed by another. And another.
First there was a picture of a girl smiling at the camera. Then another, bound, gagged . . . and glaring at the camera.
The girl next door . . .
Patrick picturing the girl in a formal. Fuck . . . bloody fuck. Dru knew that dress. It was the one he’d selected for her bridesmaids. Of course, she didn’t have any. He’d said he’d see to it . . .