Shotgun Daddy. Harper Allen

clock’s ticking, princess. Let’s go save the man you’re going to marry.”

      Chapter Four

      “What time is it?”

      Steve had asked that same question twice already in the past half hour, Caro thought edgily, but Gabe, beside her in the driver’s seat of the stationary sports utility, betrayed no impatience at having to answer him yet again. He glanced at his watch, pressing a button on the side of its dial as he did.

      “Ten-thirty.” The faint phosphorescence that had momentarily lit up the watch face faded. He switched his attention back to the blackness of the night. “Yeah, they were supposed to show up half an hour ago, Dixon, but don’t start imagining the worst. From my reading of Leo’s character, I’d guess he’s making us wait on purpose.”

      “To prove he’s the one calling the shots in this situation?” From the back seat Steve gave an angry snort. “I’ve got news for you, Riggs. He is, dammit. The bastard’s got us all dancing to his tune, and I for one don’t like it. Larry thinks Leo and his gang are probably no more than street punks who saw a chance to snatch a careless Americano businessman, and I don’t mind telling you, it galls me that someone in my position should have to knuckle under to nobodies like that.”

      Caro had heard enough. She twisted around to face the Crawford Solutions vice president. “So what do you propose, Steve? That we drive off just to prove your point? Nobodies or not, these thugs have Jess, and until he’s out of danger I’d say that gives them every right to call whatever shots they want.” Her voice shook on the final few words and swiftly she faced forward in her seat again, fighting to keep her ragged emotions under control.

      She felt rather than saw Gabe direct a glance her way before he spoke, his tone brooking no argument. “The lady’s right, Dixon. If Jess’s kidnappers want to play a few head games with us before they release him, we let them. Abductions are never just about the money, they’re about control—who’s got it, who wants it, and who’s willing to relinquish it.”

      “Then, why did you baulk at paying the price Leo asked?” Steve asked. “Not that I don’t appreciate you getting the final sum down a couple million, but with Jess such a pal of yours it seems more than a little callous of you to have haggled so closely over his ransom, Riggs.”

      Steve could be pompous at times, Caro told herself, and he had a keen eye for the bottom line that had sometimes placed him at odds with his easier-going boss, but a cut like the one he’d just delivered was more Larry’s style than his own. She had the sudden conviction that while she and Gabe had been collecting the suitcase of bearer bonds from the villa’s safe before leaving for this rendezvous with Jess’s abductors, Larry had seized the opportunity to further erode Dixon’s confidence in Gabe. From Gabe’s closed expression it appeared he’d come to the same conclusion.

      “Two points, Dixon,” he said tersely, his gaze fixed on the empty road ahead. “One, my job description reads ‘hostage negotiator.’ I negotiated with Leo over the price because if I hadn’t he would have figured he’d asked for too little in the first place, and that might have convinced him that handing a valuable hostage over so easily would be a mistake. I said it was about control. I didn’t say it was about rolling over to a kidnapper’s every demand.”

      “Like I said, I’m not complaining—” Dixon muttered, but Gabe went on before he could finish.

      “My second point is this—Kanin’s dead wrong about these people being no more than street thugs. Street thugs wouldn’t have the kind of sophisticated scrambling devices that bypassed Jackson’s tracing equipment, or the filter that made it impossible to get an identifiable print from Leo’s voice.”