Wild and Wanton (19 page)

Not a man of violence indeed! He was enjoying this; they both were!

She refused to let them know how scared she was. ‘Don't quote the Bible to me, you heathen.'

She felt sick, and her nausea increased tenfold as they each grabbed an arm and began to hustle her out.

‘At least let me get my coat.'

But was she wise in stalling? She wanted Nick to get there in time to know what was happening to her, but she didn't want him to get hurt. Her abductor might have been bluffing when he said he was armed, but then again, he might not have been. This was rather an audacious scheme, and they must have had some reason to think they could pull it off.
The
sinking feeling in her stomach increased as she realized the probability that they were both carrying weapons of some sort. Nick wouldn't stand a chance against two armed and desperate men.

‘You don't need a coat. We'll put the heater on in the car. You can have it just as hot as you want, lady.' She read in his eyes exactly what he meant, even before he put it into words. ‘If you don't make a murmur, you won't get hurt. You'll have a nice comfortable hideout until your boyfriend pays up.'

I'll bet, Lindsay gritted silently. She was suddenly more furious than she was frightened. She certainly wasn't going to let them take her without putting up a fight. She kicked all the way down the stairs and tried to bite the hand that was clamped over her mouth to prevent her from screaming. Most of her kicks missed, but at least two landed on target and brought grunts of pain. It was a miracle, or a misfortune, that they managed to keep their balance and that she didn't bring all three of them crashing down the stairs.

‘I told you it was lunacy. We should have bided our time,' the taller man said.

‘And let this fish slip through the net? Remember, we were told to act fast. Just leave it to me,' his sandy-haired friend replied.

Lindsay wasn't left long to ponder about what he meant. Something crashed against the back of her head, leaving her just short of
unconscious.
As she slumped, her stomach froze at the cruelty and ruthless determination of her captors.

The rest of the nightmare flight down the stairs and into the street passed in a painful haze. She was aware of people passing them, but no one stopped to help her. Instead, they just walked on, minding their own business. Wasn't anyone curious to know why two men were propping up one worse-for-wear female? She tried to call out, to make someone pay attention. She felt as if she were shouting, but only a trace of sound came from her mouth.

‘You all right, miss?' someone finally asked.

‘No . . . call . . .'

‘Thanks, buddy, but she's okay,' one of the thugs, the dark-haired one, cut in. ‘Bit of a celebration. A drop too much to drink. You know how it is.'

‘Don't I just!'

‘She'll be as right as rain once we get her home.'

The man was taken in. In a second he was gone.

They had now stopped by a car apparently belonging to the thugs.

‘You'll be fine now, honey. We'll soon have you home, and then you'll be able to sleep it off,' the dark-haired one said, keeping up the charade.

Someone chuckled and called out jovially, ‘Rather her than me. Wouldn't want her
hangover
when she wakes up.'

And then a noise, a commotion, alerted her to glance farther along the pavement. Miraculously, she saw Nick running toward them, knocking people out of the way in his haste. They wouldn't shoot him down and add murder to their crime, she speculated, not with so many people there to witness the offense. Her heart hammering, she made one last attempt to free herself, feeling that her prayers had been answered. But she was worn out. Her strength lagged sadly behind her will, and her madly struggling body was thrown into the back of the car. The dark-haired man came in beside her, and his partner in crime took the wheel.

He wouldn't be able to move until a gap appeared to let him into the moving stream of cars. She prayed that the traffic would stay bumper-to-bumper. The sandy-haired man pulled on the steering wheel, intent on forcing his way out. He wasn't waiting for his chance; he was creating it. A slamming on of brakes from the car behind and he was in. The noisy revving of the car engine filled her ears. Nick was so close now, but not close enough. She gulped down her dismay and anguish. He couldn't possibly save her now.

Surely, though, he would be alert enough to take the car's license plate number and notify the police. But somehow she felt that the thugs had guarded against that happening. She
wouldn't
be at all surprised to find that there was another car waiting for them before they'd travelled very far. The sandy-haired man had said, ‘Remember, we were told to act fast'—indicating that someone else was involved. Her mind spun at the hopelessness of her predicament.

What happened then was even more incredible than the events so far. She saw Nick cut through the moving traffic and take a flying leap into the air. Then his face appeared at the windshield. He had actually jumped onto the hood of the car, and was blocking the driver's visibility while hanging on for grim death. It could very well
be
grim death—his own!

There was a jangled squeal of brakes and a grinding of mangled metal, punctuated by obscenities shouted out by her two captors. Then everything faded as she fell into a black pit of unconsciousness.

She edged back into awareness with the realization that her face and body were throbbing painfully, and that she was still in the back of the car. Now, however, the arm round her shoulders wasn't restraining her, but comforting her. She looked up, in her muzziness expecting to see Nick's dear and familiar features. Her heart all but stopped at the sight of a stranger's face.

‘Who are you?'

‘The name's Cliff. I was passing by and
volunteered
to stay with you.'

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She was sure Nick was dead. He couldn't possibly have done what he had and still be alive. The crazy, heroic fool! Why hadn't he let her take her chances? What good was life if he wouldn't be there to share it with her?

‘Where do you hurt?' Cliff asked in deep concern.

‘Inside.'

‘A doctor will be here soon.'

She shook her head. ‘No, not that kind of hurt. Nick . . . He's . . . ?' She couldn't bring herself to go on.

‘Oh, I understand. If Nick's your man, he's doing fine, and could do better if they'd let him. You don't have to worry about him—or yourself while he's around. It took six guys to hold him back and stop him from beating the hell out of those two hoodlums. But not before he'd managed to drop a couple of nice shots on both of them. I don't think either of those ruffians will ever tangle with him or his ever again.'

Instead of stopping, her tears came faster. The stranger seemed to understand.

‘A natural reaction. Let it come. Get it all out of your system. There, there.'

She liked the things the stranger said, the assumption that she belonged to Nick and was under his protection.

Nick suddenly poked his head through the
window
and ground out bitingly, ‘Lindsay Cooper, you're a menace to my peace of mind.' To Lindsay this playful aggression was like being doused with a bucket of cold water.

The doctor who arrived on the scene took a look at her and agreed with Nick that she should be taken to a hospital. She insisted that she was all right, that she didn't want to go to a hospital, but Nick refused to listen to her protests. He was back to the bullying Nick. And yet, in a strange kind of way, even though the restrained violence about him frightened her, it was better than the formal politeness of the stranger.

At the hospital there were more arguments. She didn't want to stay overnight for observation, but Nick was insistent that she should. ‘I'm not going to have more on my conscience than I already do.'

She wanted to ask him if that was all she was to him, a burden on his conscience, but she didn't have the nerve. She didn't feel strong enough to cope with an unfavorable answer.

Nick was shooed out—at least
someone
could boss him, she exclaimed to herself—while she was cleaned up and antiseptic dabbed on the various cuts and scratches she had acquired. Then she was put into a regulation hospital nightgown and popped into bed—in a private room no doubt arranged for by Nick.

Then
Nick was allowed back in. ‘There's a policeman waiting outside. Do you feel up to talking to him? Let's put it another way. I promise not to let him tire you too much, but I think you should make the effort.'

She nodded. ‘All right, I'll go along with that. Nick?'

‘Yes?'

‘Those two men . . . they didn't get away, did they?' She didn't see how they could have, but after the events of that day nothing would have surprised her.

‘No. They're in custody. You'll be called upon to identify them later. For now, tell the policeman all you know. It's possible that they're hired thugs, and that someone else is behind the kidnap plot.'

‘I know from what they said that someone else
is
involved.'

‘I'd better get the policeman in; otherwise you'll have to go through the ordeal of repeating everything, and I've an idea that once will take enough out of you.'

‘You could be right.'

Nick went to tell the policeman that Lindsay would see him, returning with him a short time later. During the session that followed, Nick sat back, arms folded, his face grave as she told everything she knew.

Nick's presence was oddly comforting. But the details of the conversation she'd had with the two men were difficult to repeat in front of
him.
When the policeman read her statement back to her, she wished her memory hadn't been quite so accurate, especially regarding the bit about Nick's interest in her being the kind between the sheets. When Nick heard this, his lips twitched in a slight smile, though the policeman's expression remained commendably impassive. She did notice that both men seemed to pay more attention to the part about the thug going for the well-stacked chick every time.

‘Have you any idea who he was referring to?' the policeman asked.

‘I haven't a clue,' Lindsay said truthfully.

‘I think I may have,' Nick announced somberly.

‘Oh?' said the other man.

‘Later. Miss Cooper looks tired.'

That was an understatement.

‘I've almost finished, sir. Just a couple more things. Miss Cooper, can you—'

Again Nick intervened. ‘She's exhausted. Put your notebook away. If you'll wait outside, I'll be with you shortly.'

The policeman accepted his dismissal. It occurred to Lindsay that he didn't have much choice in the matter. If he hadn't gone of his own choice, she wouldn't have been surprised to see Nick take him by the collar and throw him out.

The moment the door clicked shut, Lindsay's eyes lifted to Nick in gratitude.
‘Thanks
for cutting it short. I don't think I could have taken much more. What's it all about? Who do you think hired those men to kidnap me?'

‘Someone who knew you were special to me and was angry about it. Two people who are close to me were in the know. One is Luisa.'

‘But Luisa wouldn't have—'

‘Of course not! I'm not suggesting any such thing. Luisa fed Maisie Pellman the tidbit in that column for a reason other than her desire to see you off the Allure promotion. She's fond of you, and I wouldn't like you to get the wrong impression of what motivated her. To get her own way, she doesn't always fight fair.' A crooked smile lifted his mouth. ‘After all, she's a woman. But this time she had a magnanimous reason for what she did. She thought it wasn't going to occur to me in time that I was launching you on a career which would put you beyond my reach. The other person who is aware of my feelings for you is also a woman . . .'

The well-stacked female who was more to the kidnapper's taste? Lindsay wondered.

‘One I may have underestimated. Time will tell. Don't puzzle your head about it,' Nick instructed. ‘I promise you that this will all be sorted out. For now, I've asked the nurse to give you something to make you sleep.'

‘I don't want anything. I never take pills.'

‘Will you ever stop arguing with me? Do as
you're
told. I'll come back tomorrow to take you home.'

In spite of his bossiness, his words had a nice ring to them.

Nick kissed her goodnight, his lips lightly brushing her bruised mouth. Seconds after he'd left the nurse came in with a tiny pill and a glass of water. She too looked to be the sort who wouldn't take no for an answer. Just wait, just wait until I feel better, Lindsay thought mutinously. She put the pill in her mouth, but was careful not to swallow it, and removed it the moment the nurse's back was turned. She didn't want to sleep, not yet. Nick had said she was special to him, and she wanted to gloat about that for a while. Their relationship wasn't over . . . he'd said he was coming to take her home . . . she was special to him.

The nurse slipped back into the room to have a look at Lindsay.

‘You're not asleep yet, Miss Cooper,' she chided. ‘Perhaps I should give you another sleeping pill to knock you out. Your fiancé isn't going to be pleased with me if I don't see that you get a good night's rest.'

‘Nick Farraday isn't my fiancé.'

‘He told me he was.'

‘You must have been mistaken.'

‘No mistake. Your face took quite a beating. You're going to have a real shiner in the morning. Mr. Farraday said it isn't going to look too well in your wedding photographs.'

Chapter
Nine

Lindsay opened her eyes to bright sunlight and the realization that not only her face ached, but her entire body. She was hazy about a lot that had happened the previous day, but the bruises she'd sustained on her face and body were vivid reminders that the violence had been very real.