An Inconvenient Husband (4 page)

She closed her eyes
and leaned back in the seat. Her whole body was trembling with shock and she
felt the terrible urge to break down in tears or, alternatively, scream at
Blake in fury. Her pride wouldn't allow her to do either.

Who was Blake to
kidnap her out of her father's house? Why in the world would he want to? It
didn't make sense. She thought of the ransacked room and shivered. Nothing made
sense. She thought of her father, seeing again the worry edged in his face and
her stomach twisted with anxiety. Something was wrong.

Something indeed was
very wrong.

Could this possibly
have something to do with that business deal he'd been having trouble with?
Unscrupulous,
he had called the Hong Kong company. It was not a
nice word. In fact, it was a frightening word. She thought of her ravaged room
and shivered again, her mind in chaos. But why would Blake be involved?

What could Blake
possibly have to do with it? It was crazy; it made no sense at all.

Fear and anger fought
for dominance in her mind. Why hadn't her father told her what was going on?
Why was he always treating her as if she were a child who should not be
bothered by her parents' problems? Well, she knew why. She was the baby of the
family, and the only daughter. Her parents and three older brothers all had
treated her like a princess, and although she wouldn't dare complain about the
love and nurture she had received as a child, she wouldn't mind being respected
as a mature adult now that she'd reached the ripe age of twenty-seven.

The car stopped and
she opened her eyes. There were lights and people. More cars. People laughing.
They were in front of what appeared to be a luxury hotel.

"Come
along." Blake helped her out of the car, putting an arm around her when
she almost lost her balance. His face was close to hers. "Don't do
anything stupid," he said under his breath, apparently not wanting the
driver to overhear him. "You're safe as long as you do what I say."

She stiffened. This
was not the man she remembered. He had never ordered her around before, never
told her what to do, never made any demands. He'd considered her an independent
person who made her own choices and decisions. She wouldn't have wanted it any
other way.

She felt dazed and
disoriented. With his hand on her shoulder Blake propelled her through the
cool, sumptuous hotel lobby. Crystal chandeliers, soft piano music, people in
beautiful clothes, mingling, laughing. It all seemed to come from a distance,
unreal. Then she found herself in a mirrored elevator.

Her reflection shocked
her. She looked like a madwoman, her hair wild, her clothes dirty and sweaty
from the day's exploration of the city's hot, crowded markets and streets. The
elevator zoomed up, stopped. They got off. She moved as if in a trance, down a
carpeted corridor, past endless doors. Blake stopped in front of one of the
rooms and slid a small plastic card into a slot in the lock. The door open, he
nudged her ahead of him into the room. She took in the big bed, the desk, a cozy
seating arrangement near the window. Soft carpeting under her feet. Everything
clean and comfortable.

She turned to face
him, clenching her hands into fists by her side and anchoring her feet to the
floor to keep them from trembling. "I want to know what this is all
about!" she demanded, hearing an unfamiliar, shrill tone in her voice.
Anger heated her blood and she could no longer contain it—anger mixed with a
terrible fear, and other feelings she couldn't even begin to analyze.
"What the hell is going on? Why did you bring me here?"

"Don't yell at
me," he said coolly.

She almost stomped her
foot. "I'll damn well yell if I want to! I'll scream!" She couldn't
believe her own behavior. What possessed her? It was as if someone else had
taken over, some wild creature driven in a corner, terrified and helpless.

"Calm down and
we'll talk." He turned his back on her and picked up a bottle of Scotch
standing on a tray on the dresser.

"Calm
down?"
she raged. "Are you out of your mind? You expect me to calm down after my
room has been turned upside down and I've been kidnapped?"

"I did not kidnap
you. I rescued you."

"Rescued
me!
From what? I want to know what's going on!"

He poured Scotch in
two glasses. "I'll tell you what I know, but not until you get yourself
under control."

She nearly choked on
her words. "How dare you treat me this way!" she said to his back.
"How dare you just carry me off! What's got into you? Are you the one who
destroyed my room?" Even as she said it, she knew the idea was preposterous.
Under no circumstances could she imagine Blake turning over drawers, going
through closets. It didn't fit his code of ethics.

He turned and gave her
a dark look. "No, I did not," he said sharply. "A couple of
hired thugs from Hong Kong did. They were waiting in the bushes for you to come
home and kidnap you. I thought I'd better beat them to it."

Her heart skidded to a
stop, rushed on again in a frantic rhythm. Her knees buckled and she sat down
on the edge of the big bed. Fear overtook her anger. "This is insane,"
she whispered. "Why?"

"After you left
the party last night, I had another talk with your father. I gathered he
unknowingly inherited a bad situation from his predecessor—an unfortunate
business deal with a less than reputable firm in Hong Kong. They're running a
scam and he's trying to back out of the contract. They're not very happy about
it."

Her heart lurched.
"I
knew
there was something wrong! He just didn't want to tell me.
He kept saying it wasn't anything to worry about."

"Well, it was.
More so than he suspected, I imagine. They wanted him to change his mind about
breaking the contract. Apparently they thought kidnapping you might give him
the right incentive."

"Oh, my
God," she whispered.

He added ice to the
glasses and handed her one. "Drink this. It will calm your nerves."

"I don't like
whiskey," she said shakily.

"I know, but it's
all I have." He gave her a wry smile. "I had not counted on
entertaining my ex-wife in my hotel room tonight."

Certainly no signs of
any such plans, she had to admit. No candles or flowers or champagne cooling in
a bucket of ice. He hadn't touched her for his own selfish, carnal reasons—like
a hero in a novel. A hero, who, seeing his old love unexpectedly at a party,
was overwhelmed by remorse over the past and, gripped by new passion, had
kidnapped her. That's only the way it went in stories. She was deranged even to
have that fleeting thought.

He sat down in a chair
and stretched out his legs. He was wearing gray slacks and a short-sleeved silk
shirt, and did not look to be in the grip of passion. He looked exhausted,
which was not surprising. Abduction was a tiring business, no doubt. Still,
tired or not, he looked tough and masculine, and very sexy with his hair
disheveled and his face full of dark shadows.

She sipped the
whiskey, wincing, feeling the stuff burn down her throat.

"What kind of
business deal was this?" she asked then.

He raked a weary hand
through his hair. "An investment deal for the construction of an
electronics plant in China. As I said, your father discovered that the Hong
Kong firm was running a scam."

"So what is your
part in all this, then?" It didn't make sense. Why should Blake be
involved? He hadn't worked with her father for years. It was only coincidence
they were in Malaysia at the same time.

His mouth curved down,
as if he mocked himself. "I was the unfortunate bystander propelled into a
rescue mission," he said dryly.

"Unfortunate
bystander?" What was that supposed to mean?

He quirked a dark
brow. "You don't think I went through this exercise just for the fun of
it, do you?"

"No, of course
not. Abducting your ex-wife to entertain her for the evening—what a nightmare
of an idea."

He gave her an
impenetrable look, saying nothing.

"So why did you
do it?" she asked harshly. "Why not let them take me? Why did you
care?" It was a bitchy, bitter question and she was sorry the moment the
words were out. She was not a bitchy, bitter person. Oh, God, she sure hoped
not.

He stared at her, a
sudden, hot flash of anger in his eyes. "Oh," he answered coldly,
"I always rescue maidens in distress. Besides, I found myself with nothing
better to do for the evening.'"'

The flash of anger
disturbed her. He was a man of superb control, but her nasty remark had hit him
wrong. She took another sip of the whiskey. The only way to drink the stuff was
to consider it medicine and she felt in need of some sort of potion to
stabilize her wrecked equilibrium.

"How did you know
about all of this? I mean, if you're not involved."

He grimaced. "By
sheer coincidence. I happened to overhear a conversation. I had trouble
believing what I was hearing, but there was only one conclusion to be
drawn." He shrugged and took a long drink from his whiskey.

"What
conversation? Who was talking?"

"I was in a
restaurant at the Hilton, waiting to meet a friend for dinner. He was late and
two men at the next table were talking. I heard your father's name and
consequently gave them my full attention, which was fortunate. They discussed
their plans to have you escorted to Hong Kong tonight. Some hired help was
going to do the honors. It seemed a good idea for me to abandon friend and
dinner and to abort the gentlemen's plans if I wasn't too late already."
He tossed back the last of his drink. "Just a cosmic little joke for me to
overhear this," he finished derisively.

Characteristically,
he'd told her the story in a few brief sentences. He'd never been a man of many
words. He rubbed his neck. "We'd better call your father. He told me he'd
be in Singapore tonight. Do you know which hotel he's staying at?"

"The
Mandarin," she said, feeling numb. It was too much to grasp, this
outrageous story. Not so outrageous. You read similar tales in the papers,
heard them on TV. It just seemed crazy because it was happening to her. There
was no reason to think Blake was lying. She finished the whiskey and put down
the glass.

Blake had asked
information for her father's hotel number and was dialing. He held out the
receiver to her.

"You want to talk
to him first?"

She shook her head.
"You know what happened. You tell him." She listened as he told her
father what had happened, assuring her father she was safely with him at the
hotel. There was silence for a while.

"Yes, of course.
No problem," Blake said. "Don't worry about it. I'll let you
know." He handed the receiver to Nicky. "He wants to talk to
you."

She took in a deep
breath to steady herself.

"Hi, Dad."

"Thank God you're
all right." His voice sounded rough with emotion. "I'll get the
police on this immediately. I had no idea they'd go to these lengths, but they'll
pay hell for this. I'll make sure of it."

"Who are these
people doing this? What kind of people are they? Dad, I want you to tell
me!"

"It's
complicated, princess. I misjudged the seriousness of it, and if something
would have happened to you I would never have forgiven myself."

Getting a clear answer
was too much to hope for.

"I don't want
anything to happen to you, either, Dad!" Again that shrill tone in her
voice. "Please be careful!"

"Oh, I'll be
careful. Don't you worry about me. But do me a favor. You've got to get out of
town. Do what Blake tells you to do."

Do what Blake tells
you to do. She would have laughed if she hadn't felt so shaky. Her father would
trust Blake, of course. They'd worked together for five years and they'd always
liked and respected each other. The divorce had not had her father's blessing.

"Nicky, promise
me!"

"I can take care
of myself, Dad!" It was an automatic response, and not a very smart one
under the circumstances. She glanced over at Blake who'd poured himself another
Scotch and was gazing out over the city, his back turned to her. Strong,
straight shoulders, lean torso, long legs firmly planted on the floor. A man to
reckon with. She closed her eyes briefly, hearing her father's voice over the
phone.

"Nicky, I don't want
to have to worry about you, do you understand?" His voice held command,
but the underlying tension was audible. "I want to know you're safe!"

She swallowed a
nervous little laugh. Safe. How safe was she in the presence of her ex-husband?
How safe was she from her own tormented emotions?

"Nicky?"
There was a desperate sound in her father's voice and her heart cringed. She
closed her eyes.

"All right, Dad,
if that's what you want." Her father had enough problems without having to
worry about her.

He let out an audible
sigh. "Good girl. Now I'd better call the police."