Stacey Joy Netzel Boxed Set (32 page)

If Ben’s phone wasn’t the only one equipped
to make international calls, she’d call and give them a loud,
extended piece of her mind.

Stop! You’re going to be fine. There are
plenty of people around and no one’s going to do anything in broad
daylight. She clutched the small travel purse hanging diagonal
across her chest containing her passport. See? If you need help,
you can prove you’re a US citizen.

Not that she’d need to prove her
citizenship. Any minute the blue car would come back around the
bend. Any second even.

She stared down the road, counting
seconds.

Seconds became minutes.

Maybe they
didn’t
know she’d been
left behind. What then? How long before they came back? Desperate
to control the unrelenting apprehension no amount of silent talk
would quell, Halli turned back to the lake as if she’d find answers
somewhere across the water.

A lone swan near shore reminded her of the
camera still clutched in her hand. The red light on the front
reminded her she was still recording. Ironically, the camera was
part of the reason she was sitting here alone, and yet she’d
completely forgotten about it.

She stopped the video and swiveled to take a
seat on the cool ledge of stone that held the lake water at bay. It
was the perfect vantage point to keep the loitering man across the
street in sight. A glance over her shoulder located where the other
swans had landed a good distance from the villa’s dock.

She frowned and faced the lake. Strange how
that person had burst so suddenly from the villa.

The noon sun sat at a point that she had to
squint and shade her eyes to see the structure’s stone walls across
the small inlet of water. Even then, it was too far away for the
naked eye. Flipping open the viewfinder as she lifted the camera,
she waited for it to focus, then tried to zoom. The low battery
indicator flashed as she maxed the zoom.

She studied the picture. Something was
different—one of the windows looked odd. Her attention snagged on a
tall figure in the corner of the pane. Longish dark hair above a
square jaw with a severe slash for a mouth. He raised a pair of
binoculars to look across the bay. Her pulse jerked when he zeroed
in and stared straight at her—

Tires squealed and an engine revved loud to
her right. Halli jumped about a foot.
Ben and Rachel!
An
uncharacteristic spurt of anger doubled her anxiety as she whirled
around.

“I can’t believe you guys left—”

Words disappeared with the heart-stuttering
realization that the shiny blue convertible half pulled onto the
cobblestone sidewalk was not her brother and sister. And the man in
the driver’s seat most certainly was
not
her brother.

Plain
was the first word that came to
mind when Trent Tomlin got a good, close-up look at the girl
dressed in baggy black pants and an oversized black T-shirt. Except
for her eyes. Almost the exact color of his car, they blazed with
anger—if the shrill tone of her voice were any indication.

Because he couldn’t afford to waste a
second, he slipped into his carefree, celebrity character while
pushing up his Ray Bans to flash his trade-mark, million dollar
grin past the two day’s worth of camouflaging scruff on his
jaw.

“Hi.” Usually that’s all he needed.
One…two…

Astonishment replaced anger.

…
three.

“Oh my God. You’re Shain West.”

“Only in the movies, darlin’.”

That always got ‘em, too, the good-ol’-boy,
southern drawl. Didn’t matter he’d been born and raised in northern
Oregon, he had a natural talent for mimicking any accent. After
just a few words, he easily placed her in mid-west United States.
American tourist. Perfect. It also explained why she’d been video
taping in the wrong place at the wrong damn time. The opposite of
his brother, and if he could help it, the opposite outcome.

Her cheeks flushed. “Of course. I know your
real name. Sorry. It’s just—I’m…ah…I’m…”

Hell, he’d better speed this up. “Can I give
you a lift?”

“W-what?” She craned her head around, as if
he might be speaking to someone else.

Resisting the urge to check over his
shoulder, he kept his gaze trained on her. “You look lost. Hop in
and I’ll give you a ride.”

Her throat convulsed, and though he wouldn’t
have thought it possible, her blush deepened to crimson. A fleeting
smile revealed even, white teeth.

“Oh, no. I mean, um, thank you, but no.”

She lifted a hand to tuck a strand of
straight brown hair behind her ear as she searched back and forth
along the road.

Trent cast his own quick glance in the
rearview mirror, pressure squeezing his body like a starving boa
constrictor as he searched for the men who’d spotted her and her
camera across the bay. By his amateur calculations, he figured he
had about three more minutes.
If
they were lucky.

Pushing up to sit on the headrest, he
prepared to turn on the superstar charm that had brought him such
success at the box office.

“I’m waiting for my brother and sister,” she
said before he could speak.

So that’s who’d driven off as he watched the
scene unfold from one street above and behind her. He lifted a
tense shoulder in a careless gesture. “Quick spin around town, and
I’ll bring you right back. They’ll never know you were gone,
sugar.”

Her eyebrows drew together above those deep
blue eyes.
Damn
. He fought his own frown. Based on previous
experience with star-struck women, she should’ve jumped in at the
first invitation. Wasn’t it just his luck, this one had common
sense.

Leaving the car running, he swung his legs
over the door and rounded the front of the convertible. His heart
thumped with each step as he tried to figure out the best way to
get her out of this mess. It was one thing when he was following a
script, but how the hell did one orchestrate a rescue in real life
when the rescuee wouldn’t cooperate and he had no time to explain
the danger? It’s not like he could play her the recording tucked in
his pocket.

The girl backed away from his approach. He
fought back rising apprehension and forced an easy smile.

“Look, I appreciate the offer, Shain,
but—”

“Trent.”

“Right.” Her blush deepened. “I know.
Trent.
But I—”

“I need you to get in the car.” As an
afterthought, he added, “Please.”

“Um…”

He used her glance down the road as cover
for his own. Still time, yet his control slipped. “Seriously. Get
in.”

The sharp command widened her eyes.
Suspicion darkened them to navy, and she took another step
backward. Then her shoulders squared while her gaze narrowed with
determination. “No.”

The right taillight on his Alfa Romeo
exploded. Trent ducked reflexively as bits of plastic flew in all
directions. Adrenaline spiked through him, but other than a sharp
reactive jerk, the girl just stood there holding her camera. Trent
lunged forward, grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the car.

“Hey—let me go!” She pulled back with
surprising strength.

He picked her up and shoved her head first
into the passenger seat, then vaulted over her to slip behind the
wheel. Heartbeat thundering in his ears, he gunned the gas with a
sickening grinding of gears before the convertible shot out into
traffic amidst screeching tires and blaring horns. A frantic
half-second glance in the rearview mirror confirmed a black vehicle
weaving through the cars behind them.

Shit. Damn. Fuck!

He switched his concentration to the road in
front. If he didn’t lose these guys fast, they were dead.

The girl’s brown head popped up in his
peripheral vision. Three bullets spidered his windshield in rapid
succession. The bobbing head screamed and disappeared. His hands
jerked on the wheel, and he narrowly missed hitting a motor scooter
head-on.

“Shit!”

Scrunching down in his seat, Trent shot a
glance toward the passenger seat. “You okay?” Nothing. His heart
dropped and he risked another frantic look. “I asked if you’re
okay!”

“No, I’m not okay!”

“Were you hit?”

“By what?”

He couldn’t help an incredulous laugh as
another bullet took out his right side mirror. He wrenched the
wheel to the left. A loud thud was followed by a muffled
“
Ow
”. Trent cut in front of an oncoming van and slammed the
car into third going uphill.

The girl’s brown head appeared again, hair
wild about her face in the wind.

“For crissakes, stay the hell down,” Trent
yelled.

Instead, she maneuvered her butt around
until she could plunk it in the passenger seat and yank on the
safety belt. Then she glared at him. He couldn’t see it because his
eyes were glued to the road, but, man, did he feel it.

“My God, slow down, would you?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not kidding,” she hollered above
the growl of the engine and whistling wind. “Did Rachel and Ben put
you up to this?”

“Who?”

“My sister and brother. Did they arrange
this?”

He risked a glance with a half-cocked grin
of disbelief. “What exactly do you think
this
is?”

“Look out!”

Trent jerked his attention back to the road
in time to see a delivery truck blocking the way.
“
Shit!
”

The tires screamed as he stomped on the
brakes. Jamming the convertible into reverse, he turned to locate a
side street behind them, his grip on the headrest of her seat
white-knuckled. The moment he was clear, he spun the wheel, ground
the gears and floored the gas. The poor girl’s head jerked forward,
back, forward with each successive switch of direction.

He really should find out her name. Poor
Girl wouldn’t cut it for long. And if they didn’t make it through
this—

“
This—
you driving like a crazy
man
—
is
not
my idea of fun,” the girl snapped. “Let me
out.”

Trent snorted, swerved around a slower
vehicle and checked the only mirror he had left to see if they were
still being pursued.

“I mean it! Stop the car this instant.”

“Not a good idea, sweetheart.”

“What in the world is going on, anyway? Are
you filming a movie or something?”

“I wish.” He took the next turn so hard her
shoulder hit his as they cornered on two, squealing wheels. When
she didn’t respond right away, he saw her staring at the holes in
his windshield as if she’d just now noticed them.

“You mean...those were
real
bullets?”

“What the hell else would they be?”

Another sharp turn assisted her back to her
side of the vehicle.

“Real guns?”

A quick look at the girl’s dazed expression
and Trent knew exactly how she felt. If he looked anything like she
did…he pulled down his Ray Bans from on top his head. He’d never
done this in real life before, only in carefully choreographed
scenes with numerous stuntmen.

The front end of his convertible took out a
sign and side-swiped a garbage dumpster with the next turn.
Damn
it
. He’d just bought this baby last week! Hadn’t even had a
chance to open it up and see what it could do on the auto strata.
This was not the way to break in the engine—and he didn’t even want
to look at the body.

A few stuntmen right about now would be more
than welcome. “Listen, make yourself useful and see if they’re
still behind us.”

“Who?” She turned around in her seat.

He reached over and jerked on her shoulder.
“Stay down!”

“How am I supposed to look if I—”

“Around the headrest. What the hell,” he
muttered. “You have enough common sense to not get in a car with
me, but pop up for target practice?”

“Hey, I was right about you. You kidnapped
me!”

“I
saved
your life, and I did say
please. Now shut up and look for a black car.”

Halli peered around the headrest. No
speeding black car giving chase. No dangerous looking bad guys
toting guns.
Real guns
. She felt a little lightheaded, but
maybe it was the jetlag. Or the bump on the head when she’d hit the
floor. Or the way the car swerved back and forth and up and down on
the mountain roads, like a bad roller coaster.
Very bad
.

How had she ended up here? She’d had plans
for this trip. Detailed plans that hadn’t included a stop along the
shore of Lake Como until tomorrow at two p.m.

Back home, Ben had laughed at her itinerary
and tossed it in the garbage. Then he said he understood her need
for structure and stability, but it was time for her to stop
letting the choices their parents had made rule her life. That had
really struck home and the week prior to their trip, he’d worn her
down, and she’d actually convinced herself touring Italy whichever
way the wind blew them could be fun. And bonus—maybe she’d even get
a little control over her anxiety.

She’d even managed to keep her cool when Ben
had swerved onto the side of the road out of the blue before they’d
found their hotel and Rachel’s stupid hair dryer converter. He’d
promised to go easy on her, so she’d figured a stop by the lake
wasn’t too bad.

Of course, she still had an extra copy of
that itinerary tucked in with her passport, but—

“Well?” Trent Tomlin demanded.

Trent Tomlin!
America’s dark-haired,
sexy playboy god. She hadn’t even recognized him until he smiled,
and now she understood why. He’d taken the scruff look to the
extreme with a dark five-o’clock shadow, windblown hair, and
tightly compressed, uncompromising lips. He darted a glance to the
one remaining mirror and she gave her head a quick shake.
Black
car. Bad guys
. She squinted at the narrow ribbon of road behind
them.