Bulletproof Bride. Diana Duncan

processes clogged by fear. For heaven’s sake, talk your way out of this. Logic. Logic never failed her. “Have you tried this demented maneuver before?”

      “Yep, twice.”

      “And it worked?”

      He urged the car even faster. “Not the first time.”

      Tessa took a fortifying breath. “And the second?”

      He chuckled. “I’ll let you know in about five seconds.”

      The car rocketed forward, the tires skimming over the highway. The force pushed her back against the seat. Tessa stared at the police cars hurtling toward them and her stomach rolled, bitter bile rising up in her throat.

      Her life flashed before her eyes in a horrifying squeal of tires and blaring horns.

      The thief’s deep laugh rang out. “See? No problem.”

      “Who are you, the Angel of Death?” she croaked. Her stomach lurched in warning. “Oh, no.” Frantic, her gaze spun wildly around the car.

      The robber glanced at her and groaned. “Here we go.”

      The car was swept clean, nothing to get sick in. Her desperate gaze locked on the money bags behind his seat. If she could get one open in time…

      “Oh, no you don’t. I need that. Uncontaminated.” He thrust the ski mask at her.

      She snatched the quilted cap and turned away from him, mightily regretting those chocolate doughnuts. After several horrible minutes, she felt much better. Holding the ruined mask between two fingers, she looked at the door handle, then at the scenery flashing by. “Um…”

      “No evidence.” His right hand reached past her to open the glove compartment.

      She deposited her burden and slammed the door. Out of sight, but definitely not out of mind. She heaved a short-lived sigh of relief. One problem solved. Kind of. She glared warily at her captor. Served him right for driving like the lunatic he was.

      She glanced into the side mirror at the empty street behind them. Her kidnapper had evaded the police. Her heart stumbled into an uneven gait.

      She was on her own.

      Chapter 2

      The thief pulled over in front of a warehouse in a run-down neighborhood. A fresh rush of adrenaline surged through Tessa. Now that they’d stopped rocketing through space at warp speed, maybe she could escape. Negotiation and logic were out. Time to try Mel’s swift kick in the chops, or anywhere else she could manage. As her captor exited the car, she tensed, waiting for an opportunity.

      He sauntered around to open her door, offering his hand.

      Now or never. Make your move. Heart pounding, she leapt out, rammed the door into him and tore down the sidewalk.

      She made it five yards before his arm snaked around her waist and yanked her against his hard body. Even as her mad dash for freedom crashed and burned, his clean male scent invaded her senses, and she blinked away dizziness. Who knew a wild-and-crazy bank robber would smell so good?

      “That door hit a little too close to my favorite part of my anatomy, honey. Unless you want to find yourself bound and gagged, chill out.” But his silky threat sounded more amused than angry. For a bank robber, he seemed amazingly easygoing.

      He marched her into the building. Every nerve ending she possessed jittered in alarm, making her breathing much too rapid. Hold it together. Stay alert, you’ll get another chance to escape. They climbed three flights of broken stairs and then her captor followed her down a gloomy corridor. He lifted the bar on a steel door and the screech of rusted metal echoed in the hallway.

      The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled, then stood on end as she reluctantly preceded him into a large, dim room. A storage facility from the looks of it.

      The robber grasped the back of a dusty wooden chair. “Sit,” his deep voice ordered.

      Annoyance burned away some of her trepidation. Who did this cretin think he was, anyway? “I am not a dog,” she huffed.

      His chuckle rumbled out again. “Plant yourself in the chair. Pretty please,” he added in a sugary tone.

      Seeing no other choice, she obeyed. Behind her, his jacket rustled. Aware of her vulnerable position, she stiffened, her short choppy breaths not conveying nearly enough oxygen to her lungs. So far, her captor had been good-natured and surprisingly gentle. Even when he’d used his superior strength to control her, she’d sensed him holding back. But what would he do now that he had her alone, and at his mercy?

      Without warning, his hands gripped her shoulders. In spite of herself, she flinched.

      “Easy.” His voice moved closer to her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His low reassurance slid out, rich and mellow.

      His deep baritone wrapped around her like the hot darkness of a sultry summer night, blanketing her uneasiness in warmth. A tingling ripple spiraled up her spine, sparking a shiver.

      “Are you cold?”

      Her muddled thoughts focused on his question and she shook her head. Tense, jumpy and anxious, you bet. But whatever unfamiliar mixed cocktail of emotions had made her shiver, she wasn’t cold.

      “Listen up. I’ve got some loose ends to deal with. I should tie and gag you….”

      Her every muscle clenched. Over my dead body!

      He gently squeezed her shoulders. “But I won’t. There’s no way out, and if you’ve got any brainy ideas about screaming for help, eighty-six them. Any ‘help’ you attract in this neighborhood won’t be the kind you want. I’ll be back soon. You’ll be safe if you stay put and don’t do anything stupid. Got it?”

      She nodded. As he walked away, she heard the whisper of clothing. The door creaked open and then slammed shut. The bar clanked into place, leaving her alone in the gloomy silence.

      Relief swirled through her. Like a dream, a sense of unreality clouded her mind. Crazy surprises didn’t happen to Tessa Beaumont. She kept her life ordered, predictable and controlled. Being kidnapped was not scheduled in her planner in neat script—blue for daily schedule, green for appointments and red for urgent matters.

      What would happen when the thief returned? He’d said he wasn’t going to hurt her, and so far, he’d kept his word. But rule number one in the Deranged Kidnappers’ Handbook was probably, “Keep the victim calm and obedient.” Unfortunately, she’d been too busy with wedding plans to take that kickboxing course with Mel last month.

      Though the roguish robber seemed more than capable of handling a whole class of self-defense graduates. With his looks, one of his sunny smiles was enough to disarm any female between nine and ninety. Glowing with a combination of sensuality and mischief, his infectious grin had incited a flood of response deep inside.

      Tessa straightened. What was wrong with her? The shock must have unhinged her mind. No way would she meekly wait for him in this dump like an expired certificate of deposit.

      As if to drive home the thought, rustling and sharp squeaks erupted from the corner. She gulped. Rats? Yelping, she scrambled onto the chair, her gaze skittering around the room.

      Bundled newspapers littered the floor and three cardboard boxes leaned drunkenly in a corner. Not much to aid a jailbreak, but a small window high on the opposite wall offered some hope.

      In one of Tessa’s favorite movies, Goldie Hawn thwarted kidnappers by climbing out a window to the fire escape. But even if Tessa could reach the narrow window, it promised a tight fit. She mentally compared the window to her hips, glad she’d skipped lunch.

      After a hesitant glance at the now-quiet corner, she stepped down, and dragged the chair over. Even with the added height, the sill was out of reach.

      As her gaze lingered on the cardboard boxes, an idea formed. Tessa grabbed