A Prince's Ransom: Kidnapped by the Billionaire (38 page)

He followed them as they drove through the streets, pulling up in front of a hospital; he had in fact overheard what she had said about visiting her dad that night, so he wasn’t surprised. No, he parked not too far away from the blonde’s car as she waited, flexing and tightening his fingers against the wheel of the car. Some part of him wondered what he was doing right now. Wondering what he had done in the bathroom when she had been frightened enough to begin with—when the best thing he could really do right about now, to save his own skin if nothing else, was to leave her alone. No, he wouldn’t kill her, even if that would be easier than this.

He could taste her, though. His own slight buzz from the champagne had worn off ages ago and he could taste her in its place—and spinach, weirdly; he didn’t know where that was from. Tobin’s taste, though—that was warm, and that was sweet, and he wanted more of it. He wanted more of it even though this was probably the most insane thing he could do in all the world. In that all-too-noticeable silver cocktail dress she was wearing, it wasn’t hard to see her come back out of the hospital, looking even more preoccupied than when she had entered. At this point, it was obvious she hadn’t told anyone what had happened. They would’ve made her call the police. She hadn’t decided if she wanted to, he guessed.

A few minutes later, he was following them again, to a quieter part of town, away from the restaurants and the clubs. Away from anyone who would see, who would notice. The two of them parked, and the girls got out of the blonde’s car. He continued past the apartment they were walking toward, but he slowed down. Sebastian shifted his rearview mirror, just enough that he could see the windows of the building, watching them carefully.

When a room on the third floor lit up, he turned his attention back to the road and drove away.

Tobin leaned back against the front door of her apartment, staring at the darkness of her living room and kitchen, trying to stop her heart from beating so quickly. Her cats were all meowing in happy familiarity and clawing at the fronts of their crates, wanting to be released into territory that didn’t smell like dog. They, of course, were absolutely unaware of her hesitance, the way she was staring at the room with the urge to bolt.

It was almost ridiculous—silly, thoughtless, paranoid. None of the men who had taken her had actually been inside of her apartment, like they had been inside her car. She hadn’t been tied up here, hadn’t been aware of a gun in her home. If there had been someone here, even her cats would probably be wary about coming back, and they weren’t. But some part of her couldn’t but feel like this apartment had still been defiled by what had happened. Defiled because they knew where it was. Or at least he did. She still didn’t know his damn name, which at this point felt like the most annoyingly amusing of ironies. He knew this was her home, and that he could find her here, if he wanted to.

She’d had to work on convincing Kate for a while before her friend had actually been willing to take her home—promising she’d be back in the morning to drive them both to work. Tobin’s insistence before about finding a new place to live altogether had made her sudden willingness to return all the stranger, but she hadn’t wanted to say anything about what had happened in the restroom at the restaurant. Not that Kate wasn’t glad to have her off her couch, Tobin thought ruefully; it just didn’t make a whole lot of sense to her. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to anyone, except for her cats, but some part of her had needed to go home. By herself, without anyone else around. Maybe partly because that guy’s promise that night had made her nervous about being at Kate’s for too long, attracting that danger there. But it was more than that, too.

Tobin took a deep breath and knelt down at last to release her cats from their crates. They all immediately darted into the familiar recesses of the dark room, and she flipped on the light switch. Some part of her expected to suddenly see someone there, and she shut her eyes when no one was. Nervously, she rubbed her hands against her thighs, then turned around and set every lock on her door, wishing she felt like two dead bolts and a chain was enough. With that accomplished, though, she stacked the cats’ crates in the corner between the door and the coat closet, where they normally were when not in use, and grabbed her own suitcase, hauling it to her bedroom.

The last time she had been in here, she thought with chagrin, before all of this had happened, was after a guy had tried leaving without saying goodbye after sex. That was a particularly better memory than the one in which she had been kidnapped and nearly killed. Trying to sleep tonight was going to be a bitch, that much was for certain. Oliver, though small and complacent and more likely to lick a burglar to death than to chase them away, had been comforting. Cats were decidedly less so, even if they were maybe more likely to scratch at someone who invaded their space or upset them. Tobin ran her fingers through her hair before hoisting her suitcase onto her bed, unzipping it to start unpacking.

The police department had let her know that they were done with her car over the weekend. She had promptly donated it for a tax deduction without even looking at it again. She didn’t want that car back, knowing that at the very least—even if she could still live in her apartment—she would never be able to get over the feeling of being blindfolded and tied up in the back of her own car. They hadn’t asked any questions, and she was glad that there hadn’t been any blood in it—because it probably would’ve been her own. She didn’t know if they had found any fingerprints or anything, and it was one of those things where she didn’t really want to ask. If someone was arrested, and she was called in to see a lineup, she would deal with that then, but she was almost kind of hoping that they all just got away with it. Yes, that was terrible. Most of the people who had been there that night already thought she was dead, and she didn’t want to correct that assumption under any circumstances.

She and Kate had taken her dad home too, earlier that day. They were both in agreement not to say anything about what was going on, and the story of her car having been in an accident and still in the shop was one they stuck to. Her dad had offered her use of his car until it was fixed, which she was glad for. If anything came up this way again, then Tobin would deal with telling her dad what had happened, but when he was clearly still recovering—still lethargic, still grumpy—that wasn’t something she wanted to burden him with. He had complained the entire way up to his own apartment about needing two girls to help him get anywhere, probably partly to amuse them, but not entirely. Jack had almost been asleep before they had even left, and Tobin had put away the things she had gotten from his apartment when he’d first been admitted. He had seemed glad to be back in this own bed, at least, and she wondered if she would feel the same way. Admittedly, it had to be better than the couch.

After grabbing several hangers from her closet, she put away all her clothes and threw a bunch into her laundry hamper, and then slowly moved toward the window to her bedroom. Her heart was beating faster again. Carefully, she slid her blinds open a little bit, bending the slats, and looked out onto the street below her apartment. Tobin’s throat tightened to see a dark car parked in the same spot she had been left at, and then her brow furrowed a little bit. She… she had seen that car before. She had seen that car outside the restaurant. She had seen that car outside Kate’s apartment the night before. Heart hammering, she drew back all at once, taking several steps back from the window and shaking. No… no, no, no, God, no. This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to come back in the first place, she thought. She was starting to panic.

And—and, God, what was she doing? Not reporting the fact that she had seen that guy again to the police? Not telling Kate? Coming back here alone when she knew he was following her? What the hell was she doing inviting this… this creep, this murderer back into her life like he hadn’t held a gun to her head? No, she was going to call the police right now, she was going to tell them that she thought that guy was outside her apartment. This was going to be over. She couldn’t live this way, she just couldn’t—

Beep-do-beep.

Tobin jumped, realizing there were tears on her cheeks as she looked toward the sound.

Beep-do-beep.

Her phone. Her cell phone was ringing. Taking a deep breath, rubbing at her tears, she hurried back into her living room. Autumn had knocked her purse off the table onto the floor and was now staring at her vibrating phone. Tobin didn’t have time for the cat’s antics, though, her mind still racing as she grabbed it off the ground and looked at the number. It wasn’t one she recognized, but she answered it anyway.

“H-hello?” she asked, her throat tightening to hear how her voice trembled.

“Hi, is this Tobin? This is Kevin.”

Her dad’s doctor. She forced herself to calm. “Oh, hi, yeah, it’s me. Sorry, my cat was playing with my phone.”

“Hah, no worries. Did you get your dad home alright?”

“Oh, yeah, everything went fine. He’s not happy to be bedridden for a bit longer, but he’s glad to be home. Thanks again for everything.”

“Of course, I’m just glad to help. So, uh… I was wondering about that drink? A friend of mine is playing at a bar this week—just a small little thing, shouldn’t be too loud or anything. Would you like to come?” He paused a second, then quickly added, “Oh, uhm, with me. Come with me.”

Tobin hesitated, her stomach twisting into knots. Kevin seemed like a really nice guy—a great guy. A guy who it actually make sense to be attracted to, unlike the bastard who terrified her just as much as he turned her on. But was she actually ready to be around anyone? To be with any guy right now?

What was the alternative, though? Hide in her closet hoping he’d go away?

“Tobin?” His voice had deflated slightly, obviously taking her hesitance as trying to figure out an excuse out of the date she had agreed to.

“Sorry, cats again,” she lied quickly, shaking her head to clear it. “I’d love to go out with you, Kevin. What time is the concert?”

She could practically hear him perk up through her phone. “Around seven thirty. I can come pick you up.”

“No,” she interrupted, too quickly, and she winced. She didn’t want Kevin getting mixed up in this—she didn’t want this guy who was stalking her knowing about another guy in her life. “I mean, I have to work until six thirty or so on Wednesday anyway, and it’ll take me a little while to get ready after, so I can meet you there.”

Sebastian was… surprised. Surprised that she had come back to her apartment after the other night, when she had been so rattled by what had happened—by coming across him again in the first place. But for the time being, he had had nothing better to do than to… watch her. Watch her take her father home, watch her come back here. He couldn’t be certain she hadn’t noticed his car parked around everywhere she was, but at the same time he didn’t really think himself in danger from her calling the police. She would have done that already—although he did wonder how many times she had tried to talk herself into it.

But she had come back to her apartment—with the greatest hesitance he had ever seen, but she had still done it. Was she worried about him breaking into her friend’s apartment and hurting them both? It wasn’t unlikely, and he couldn’t blame her for that. While Sebastian hadn’t decided how he was going to approach her again, though, he wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t going to do something that made her even more afraid of him. He wasn’t going to rape her. He was going to make her want it, whatever else he did.

Looking up toward her apartment, he leaned his head against the seat as the lights turned on in what was most likely a bedroom. He could see a silhouette moving around on the other side of the closed blinds, but his brow furrowed when that movement stopped all at once. She was coming toward the window. His hand clenched into a fist as she parted the blinds and looked down onto the street. Dammit. Now she had noticed—she had realized. He’d been too obvious. Sebastian tensed, and let out a growl of frustration when she jerked back from the window.

Instantly, he shifted the car into drive and looked into his rearview mirror, only too ready to drive away if he saw any cars get too close. And yet, while he watched, waited—angry and resentful that she had done it—nothing happened. He’d been certain she would call the police after that. Certain of it. But long, slow minutes passed and no one passed. No cars drove by. He looked back up at the window. Her silhouette was there again, but she wasn’t parting the blinds. His eyes narrowed.

She thought she could beat him a different way. How interesting.

Tobin parked her dad’s car in front of the bar that Kevin had told her about over the phone, tucking her brunette curls behind her ear as she examined the place. It was a bit rustic—a bit Western for the big city—but it looked nice enough, and it was one of the few bars she’d seen without a lot of motorcycles in front of them. That always turned her off to places like this. This seemed nice, though, with a calmer crowd than she was used to at these types of places without the formality of her last date. She was more comfortable tonight in a pair of jeans and knee-high boots, and a simple green blouse that fit her well. Comfortable was a very good thing, when she’d been going back and forth about going to this for the past three days.

She hadn’t been able to talk to Kate or Lisa about her fears; neither of them knew a thing about the fact that the guy from that night was still following her around, and they would probably blow gaskets if they found out and she hadn’t called the police. It just wasn’t as simple as it should be, in part because he had… spared her. He hadn’t killed her when he could have—when he admitted he should have. Every time she had thought about calling off this date, though, for fear of getting Kevin tangled up in all of this, she had thought of how crestfallen he had sounded on the phone just thinking she was rejecting him. She didn’t want to reject him, so she would go on this date. And she would see where this went. And damn that bastard for trying to screw up her life any more than he already had.