Holding his Hostage - Amy Gamet Page 0,15

to me. You didn’t even tell me David had died, for God’s sake. What happened?”

“Hunting accident.”

He turned onto Main Street, and they drove in silence until he pulled into the bank parking lot. “This would be a lot easier if you’d tell me the truth.”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“I know you, Buckley. You never could lie worth a damn.” He got out and slammed his door.

Prick.

The car had finally warmed up and the heat was blasting. She turned it down with an irritated flick and stared out her window. The older she got, the more she hated winter, and her mind turned to possible places to start over—preferably far south of here.

A car pulled into the spot beside her. Georgia sounded nice, though she’d never actually been there, and she realized she was basing her assessment purely on a mental image of peach trees stretched as far as the eye could see. Florida didn’t sound appealing. Maybe Louisiana, or Mississippi. Someplace warm where she and the kids could disappear under the cover of Spanish moss and humidity.

A man got out of the car next to her and she averted her eyes, not wanting to engage. But he tapped on her window, drawing her head up. Richard Bannon stood on the other side of the glass, staring at her.

Icy fear coursed through her veins. How had he found her? He’d followed her here, all the way from Chicago, but that wasn’t possible. She’d had her eye on the mirror the whole time and would have known if they’d had a tail, wouldn’t she?

He gestured for her to roll down the window and, when it was open a crack, asked, “Are you making progress, Mrs. Regan?”

“How did you get here?”

“You didn’t think I was just going to trust you to get back to me in a few days, did you? I wouldn’t want you deciding to disappear with my money. I need to protect what’s mine.”

“Did you follow me?”

“I have my ways.” He looked at Fiona in the backseat. “Cute kid. I’d hate for anything bad to happen to her. You’ve got six days left, Mrs. Regan.” He moved to walk away, then bent back to the window. “And I wouldn’t go leaving the other two alone like that if I was you.”

9

Sloan winked at the teller, a sixty-year-old woman who used to serve him lunch in the school cafeteria. “Twenties will be fine, thanks, Mrs. Martin.”

“I don’t have that much in my drawer. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Ten thousand dollars in twenty-dollar bills was sure to be a little cumbersome to deal with, but he suspected Jo would prefer the smaller bills. She’d only asked for a few thousand, but he wanted to make sure she had enough, and suspected if he pressed her she would clam up. Talking to her today was like walking barefoot over bird spikes. Her defenses had always run high, and her behavior this morning was no exception.

The teller returned and counted out bills. After this was over and Joanne was on her way, maybe he’d take a vacation. Let his toes sink into the sand someplace warm and forget all about Joanne Buckley and whatever the hell she was hiding.

Like you’ll be able to do that.

The thought brought him up short. Of course he’d be able to forget her. He’d been over her for longer than they’d been together, and nothing was going to change that. Besides, clearly she was knee deep in some kind of mess and wouldn’t even tell him what was going on. If he had half a brain in his head, he’d let her go just like she wanted. He sucked his cheeks in.

“Here you go,” said the teller, returning with a bound stack of bills. “Want me to count it out for you?”

“No, thanks, I trust you.” He took the stack in his hand. Ten thousand dollars. A simple stack of bills. This was all she wanted from him. He turned on his heel.

What was the alternative? He couldn’t force her to let him in. She was a grown woman who got to call the shots in her own life, and if that put his back up, it said more about him being a nosey bastard than anything about Joanne. Yes. He should definitely let her get back in that Porsche of hers and drive away.

That car was easily worth well over a hundred grand. Anyone with a car like that shouldn’t need to borrow a few thousand