Barbara Dunlop - His Stolen Bride

“Roger that,” said Mac.

Jackson pushed open a window and tossed the phone overboard.

“That was stupid,” he said to Crista.

“I was trying to escape. How was that stupid?”

“You were reckless. I was stupid.”

He grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet.

“Hey,” she cried.

“Listen, I’m still not going to hurt you, but you had no way of knowing that for sure. I could have been a vengeful jerk.” He tugged her to the bridge, holding fast to her upper arm while he started the engine and engaged the anchor winch.

Her tone turned mulish. “I had to try.”

“I shouldn’t have given you the chance.”

“You let your guard down.”

“I did. And that was stupid.”

Not to mention completely unprofessional. He wasn’t sure what had distracted him. Their kiss? Her legs? The sight of her in his jersey?

He’d have to worry about it later. Right now, he couldn’t take a chance on an overzealous 911 operator tracing their location. Anchor up, he opened the throttle, and they surged forward.

She swayed, but he held her steady.

“You were trying to be nice,” she said.

He struggled not to laugh at that. “You’re trying to make me feel better about being stupid?”

“I’m saying... I’m not unappreciative of you offering me something to eat.”

“Well, I’m definitely unappreciative of you compromising our location.”

He set a course north along the coastline. His friend Tuck Tucker owned a beach house north of the city. Tuck wouldn’t mind Jackson using his dock. He might mind the kidnapping part, but Jackson didn’t plan to mention that. And if Mac and the others didn’t come through with proof positive by morning, Tuck’s reaction would be the least of Jackson’s worries.

“Where are we going?” Crista asked.

Jackson did chuckle at that. “Yeah, sure. I’m going to tell you.”

“It’s not like we still have a phone.” As she spoke, her gaze flicked to the radio.

“I’ll be disconnecting the battery to that long before I take my eyes off you,” he told her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You just looked at the radio. You might as well be wearing a neon sign that says it’s your next move.”

She drew an exasperated sigh and shifted her feet.

“You probably don’t want to consider a life of crime,” he said.

She lifted her chin and gave her damp hair a little toss. “I’m surprised you did.”

“It’s been a surprising day.”

“Not exactly what I expected, either.”

He’d have to hand her the win on that one.

He switched screens on the GPS, orienting himself to the shoreline.

“I’m hoping you’ll thank me later,” he said.

“Hoping? You don’t seem as confident as before.”

“The stakes just keep getting higher and higher. Now we’re headed for the state line.”

Her attention swung from the windshield to him. “You’re taking me to Wisconsin?”

“What’s wrong with Wisconsin?”

“It’s a long way from Chicago. Why are you taking me there? What’s happening?” She struggled to get away from him.

He regretted frightening her again. They weren’t really going all the way to Wisconsin.

“I didn’t plan to grab you today,” he told her. “I was only there to get a look at Gerhard.”

“Why?”

“To take his measure.”

“I mean why do you care about us at all?”

“It’s a job.”

“Who hired you?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters to you is that your fiancé is already having an affair. You can’t marry a man like that.” Jackson wasn’t ready to tell her more. Mention of her father would likely alienate her further. He didn’t yet have proof of Trent’s accusations. And if she was having trouble accepting that Vern would cheat, she’d never believe he was conning her.

“He’s not like that. I don’t know where you even came up with that idea.”

She’d stopped struggling against his grip, and that was good. Her fear seemed to have been replaced by anger. Jackson’s guilt eased off.

“Wedding guests,” he said, opening the throttle to increase their speed. It was a clear, relatively calm night, thank goodness. They needed to put distance between them and the position where Crista had made the call.

“My wedding guests?”

“Technically, I would say they were Vern’s wedding guests. They seemed to know him, and they were joking about his relationship with Gracie. I realized I couldn’t in good conscience let you marry him, so I took the opportunity and grabbed you.”

She was silent for a moment. “So this isn’t so much crime as altruism.”

“Yes. The easiest thing for me would have been to walk away.”

“You can still walk away.”

“We’re on a boat.”

“Swim away, then. Or drop me off onshore and drive away—motor away? Float away? What do you call it?”

“Navigate away. And no, I’m not dropping you off onshore.” He made a show of looking her up and down, enjoying the view far too much. “You’re not dressed, for one thing.”

“I’ll put my wedding dress back on. It might be uncomfortable, but it’s better than staying here.”

“I’d get thrown in jail,” he said.

“Darn right. But that’s going to happen anyway.”

“Not for a few hours.” And hopefully not ever, although Jackson’s worry factor was steadily rising.

“How long until we get there?” she asked.

“Get where?”

“To the secret location, wherever it is you’re taking me. How long until we stop navigating?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m hungry.”

“Oh, now you’re hungry. Well, you’re going to have to wait.”

“I can eat while you navigate.”

“I’m not letting go of you.”

“I’m not going to jump.”

“That’s what I thought last time.”

“We’re way too far from shore.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’ve got another brilliant plan in mind already. Sabotage the engine, harpoon me from behind.”

“You have harpoons on board?”

“Give me strength,” he muttered.

She leaned close to him. “Am I annoying you? Frustrating you?”

“Yes on both counts.”

Her argumentative nature was annoying, but his frustration came from a whole other place. She was stimulating and exciting. She was a beautiful, feisty, apparently complex and intelligent woman, and he was battling hard against his sexual attraction to her. He didn’t want to be rushing from a crime scene with her as his captive, contemplating the best way to stay out of jail. He wanted to be on a date with her, somewhere great in the city, contemplating how best to get her into his bed.

“There’s a simple solution,” she told him.

It took a second for him to get his brain back on track. “Let you go?” he guessed.

“Bingo.”

“Not until we meet up with Mac tomorrow.”

“You’ll let me go then?”

He knew he was being cornered, but there really was no choice. He could only hope Mac could come up with definitive proof by morning.

“Yes,” said Jackson.

Crista’s mouth curved into a dazzling smile. They hit a swell, and she pressed against him. Her curves were soft, and her scent was fresh. For a moment the risk of jail seemed almost worth it.

* * *

When Crista awoke, she was disoriented. It took a few seconds to realize the warm body beside her wasn’t Vern. She was in bed with someone bigger, harder, with a deeper breathing pattern and an earthier scent. And the bed was moving beneath them.

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