Tracy would take offense, but Randall happened to be right. Not that she had asked Paul to worry. But they were family. Worrying and family come as a package deal. And running Keener Chemical was a heavy load. Paul had chosen to carry it; he could hire a CEO to manage it at any time, yet his father had built the Keener family business from nothing, and Paul was protective of family and family assets. As long as he lived, no one else would ever make decisions affecting Keener Chemical. How that would have worked out if Matthew had lived, Tracy had no idea, but she would bet her bars it would’ve created friction between the brothers eventually. Before Matthew had died, she’d noticed early warning signs.
Sliding off the stool, Tracy eased her purse strap up on her shoulder, eager to get home and into bed. “Thanks for helping me, Randall.”
He nodded. “I wish you would reconsider and tell me who you met. Someone else should know, Tracy. This shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
I’m not taking it lightly. You can rest assured of that.”
“Whatever you’re doing, it’s clearly dangerous. You’re stepping on toes.”
He sounded like Ted. “I’ve explained already. I can’t tell you.” He understood security and ethics. Why was he being such a persistent pig about this?
“What if next time you’re hit with more than a warning? God forbid, but you could end up dead, and no one would have any idea where to even start looking for your killer.”
He suspected she was in mortal danger and his main concern was obtaining the identity of the person she’d met so that if he did kill her, Randall could inform the authorities. She stared at him, frighteningly close to blowing her stack. How disgustingly inadequate. Damn cold, too. Randall could use a few lessons from Adam on how to treat She halted that thought, unwilling to finish it. “I won’t breach ethics or security.”
“I’ll keep it confidential. I swear it.” Randall grasped her tipper arms.” ‘ Professional ethics are fine and security is essential, but not_ at the expense of your life.”
She went stone-cold inside. He was manipulating her. Deliberately trying to frighten her. Did he think she was too dull to pick up on his tactics? “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle this.”
Before he could respond, she left the lab, still seething resentment. She’d vowed never to ask Randall for anything, yet she’d gone to him for help. That was okay, considering the hospital had been involved, but she’d choke to death before asking him for anything again. Friends don’t damn lie to friends. Or manipulate them.
She walked outside. Away from the lab’s strong smells, she felt better. Daylight had come, but the sun was in hiding. The sky streaked gray and the air smelled of rain.
In the parking lot, she stopped beside a white Lincoln. What car had she driven here?
That was the problem with switching cars so often. Though after the hood-latch incident, Janet’s advice to do it was too wise to ignore. A Mercury, Tracy recalled. Dark-colored.
It took all the energy she had left to locate the rental car and fish her keys out of her purse. When she rounded the back end to the driver’s side, she stopped. Deep scratches gouged the burgundy paint down to the metal. Scratches that read: “Burke’s Bitch.”
“Terrific. Just damn terrific.” Using Janet’s techniques, Tracy checked out the car for explosives, and found nothing. She got in, and then slammed the driver’s door shut. The rental company would charge her a fortune for this.
Angry, sick, and exhausted, she drove home, a thousand questions running through her mind. Why had Randall, the slug, lied to her? Not decontaminated her in their chamber, too? Who had pulled the stunt with the smoke bomb? Was someone substituting dummies for live ordnance or abusing the bands? If so, who? Worse, why?
They had to be black-marketing ordnance, and that truth terrified her.
She pulled into her driveway, suffering a serious sinking spell, then crawled out of the car. “Okay, you’ve maxed.” True, that. Even her teeth hurt. “Down some medicine, sleep, and then attack this logically.”
The rain started before she reached the back door, and she got that nebulous, uneasy feeling of being watched. She looked toward her ramshackle garden, but saw no one there. Still, she rushed her steps to get inside.
“You’re getting paranoid, Keener.” She closed the door, clicked the deadbolt into place.
Dumping her purse on the kitchen table, she filled a tall glass with orange juice from the fridge. Her sinuses were stuffy and her head throbbed, and she longingly remembered the days when Matthew had been home to greet her. She supposed all the threats had acted as triggers, bringing him to mind so often these days. Taking a long, cold drink from the glass, she wondered about. Adam. After his divorce, had he ever walked into his house and resented it being empty? Survivor to survivor, she’d bet her bars he had-often.
She walked down the hallway to her bedroom, tossed her clothes into a heap on the bedside chair, and then put on her PJS and robe and her Pooh slippers. If ever she needed an attitude, the time was now. That bomb could just as easily have been live. She could just as easily be dead.
Dragging one foot in front of the other, she wobbled to the bath and, hip to the vanity, pulled out the flu medicines from the cabinet over the sink. She hated to take them-they made her drowsy-but she had to do something. Between the medicine and steaming her sinuses, which threatened to explode at any second, maybe she’d feel human enough to get some sleep. Lord, did she need sleep.
She downed the meds, then filled the bathroom sink with steaming hot water and shut off the faucet. Seeing spots before her eyes, she slung a towel over her head, then bent low and sucked up the steam.
A few minutes later, the water cooled. She debated adding more, but the medicine was working its magic, and she could barely keep her eyes open.
A thud sounded. Somewhere distant.
She stilled, and heard another. Someone was in the house!
Straightening, she reached for the towel draped over her head. Strong fingertips cinched down on her neck, forced her forward, burying her face in the water, The splash soaked her robe.
Fighting the restraint, she swung out ‘ but swiped only air. Stomping, kicking, she still failed to connect with flesh. Weak, tired, and slow from the medication, she threw her weight backward, hoping to knock her attacker off-balance. Her face came up, out of the water. Sputtering, she gasped in deep lungfuls of air. The attacker pinned her arms at her sides, tied something around her neck to hold the towel in place. She slumped back against the vanity. Even suffering an adrenaline rush, terrified she’d be murdered, she lacked the strength to fight.
Her attacker lifted her, then carried her out of the bath. By his strength, she knew she was being kidnapped by a man. He took her outside. They were leaving find she was too drugged to stop him, too weak and groggy to even protest. Where was he taking her? Her face at his chest, she felt his heart thump against her cheek. Jesus God, he was going to kill her and she was going to sleep through it.
chapter 16.
Tracy’s head throbbed. Her whole body throbbed and ached. Her kidnapper dumped her in the back seat of a least, she assumed it was the back seat. Scrunched on her side, she felt vibrations. The engine was running. She fought panic, and failed. Wordlessly, he bound her arms and ankles. The ties weren’t tight, but just feeling them around her wrists and ankles reminded her she was restrained, and that infuriated her. When the car door slammed shut, she risked reaching out. No steering wheel or dashboard. Soft velour fabric. Had to be the back of the front seat. The towel tied over her head, she didn’t dare to shift positions. As it was, breathing air through wet terrycloth was a challenge.
The front door shut and the man stomped on the accelerator, pinning her back against the seat. The tires screeched and grabbed on the wet pavement. He was crazy, driving this fast in the rain. He must be going seventy miles per hour Her stomach lurched with every bump, every turn, every swerve. The rain beat against the car. It had cooled down outside, but inside, in her robe and Pooh slippers, it was plenty warm-and yet her teeth began to chatter. It wasn’t nerves, though she was terrified, and she refused to feel inferior because of it. it was the flu. And from the odd feeling in her head and the sweat soaking her body, -A she supposed that her fever had broken. So why hadn’t her stomach calmed down? Oh, God, if only he would stop the car for a minute. Just for a damn minute.
She suffered the jarring as long as she could, trying her damnedest to muffle her moans and mewls against her arm. But not being able to see, the wet towel plastering against her nose with every indrawn breath, only added to her nausea.
Whose toes had she stepped on hard enough to warrant being kidnapped?
She hadn’t found concrete evidence conclusively proving anything Adam had told her. The bomb at the hospital had been a dud-c4early a warning, just as the car’s hood latch had been a warning. Whoever was behind those incidents didn’t want her dead, they wanted her to stop investigating. This was different. Far more serious. And for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine who would initiate it, or why. O’Dell or Hackett wouldn’t consider her that great a threat-unless … Had she stumbled across something and failed to recognize it as significant?
The bands around her wrists snagged on her robe button and jerked tight. Silk? You should be draped in silk … Paul?
No, absolutely not. He was domineering, yes. But he’d never do this to her.
Whoa, Tracy. Wait a second, girl. He rebelled against your leaving him even after you joined the Air Force. He got Keener Chemical involved in government contracts exploring new technology, too. And he did everything humanly possible to get you not to defend Adam-even promised you the moon to get you to marry him.
True, but Paul cared about her. She was all the family he had. He wouldn’t do this.
Not even to scare you into coming back to him?
She refused to believe it. He wouldn’t.
Then what about Randall? He lied to you. And he wanted to know who you met at the hospital. Why, do you think, was it so important to him to know?
No idea, but Randall wouldn’t do this. Kidnapping her wasn’t on his list of goals and it certainly wouldn’t advance his career.
Her kidnapper continued to drive like a demon from hell. She needed to consider other possibilities, but she was so sick to her stomach, she couldn’t think anymore.
The car hit a bump and a too-common wave of nausea rolled up from her belly. She had no choice but to alert her kidnapper. “I’m going to throw up. You’ve got to stop the car. Please.”
“Two minutes,” the man said, speaking his first words to her.. Finally, the car stopped. The back door opened, and then he helped her out. She wanted to shake off his hands, but she was too jelly-kneed to stand without his support.
Behind her, he untied the rope circling her neck, lifted the towel from over her head, and then untied her hands. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained a dull dark gray. She wanted to look to see who the man was, but she didn’t have time to even glimpse him. Two steps from the car, she bent forward, leaning low to the ground, and threw up.
When her stomach had emptied, she saw that she was crouching in a weedy patch of sand. Her legs were shaky, her face flushed hot and damp, her skin clammy cold.
“Flu, or nerves?” The man pressed a blessedly cool handkerchief against her forehead.
“Flu,” she said through trembling lips, then opened her eyes-and saw Adam Burke.
Adam. “Oh, God …
” Her heart hammered, threatening to burst through her ribs. “You’re alive.”
“For the moment.” He frowned at her. “Feeling better?”
A flood of emotions gushed through her at once; she didn’t know which to feel. Happy or sad, afraid or relieved. Should she rejoice or mourn? He was alive; she hadn’t caused his death. But he’d kidnapped her.
Anger-More than anything else, she felt anger. It swelled in her and erupted. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, pulling a stunt like this?”
“I’d say you’re feeling better.” He gave her forehead a final dab with the handkerchief and then grasped her arm. “I hate to rush you, counselor, but standing out in the open isn’t in our best interests.”
“It’s six in the morning, for God’s sake. Who do you think is going to bother us?”
“It’s nearly four in the afternoon. You slept a while. I suspect, due to the flu medication you took.” He kept walking, urging her toward the car. “If you give me your word you’ll behave, I won’t tie you back up. I don’t want to, I know you’re not well.”
She debated. She couldn’t get away from him, so she’d bide her time. “I promise.”
Looking relieved, he helped her into the front passenger seat. “It reclines, so you can stretch out, if you’d be more comfortable.”
“You’re concerned about my comfort?” She grunted. “What a novel concept coming from a man who tried to drown me in my own bathroom sink. You abducted me from my home.”
“You chose not to disappear. it was necessary.”
“Why? Better yet, necessary for whom? Certainly not for me.”
“The men trying to kill-us might disagree. In fact, I’d bank on it.”
Adam slammed the door, then walked’ around the hood.
Trying to kill us? She stared at him, moving past the front fender to the driver’s door. The swelling was gone, and he looked like his Personnel file photo again, except for the tension in him now that had been absent then. Still, he was gorgeous. Crazy as hell for pulling this stunt, but gorgeous. “Why do you still have that yellow streak in your hair?”
“I’ve been a little busy. Haven’t had time to dye it.”
He got in the car, shifted into Drive, and then pulled out on the dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust that could be seen for a mile. “For the record, I didn’t kidnap you to hurt you.
‘ “You expect me to believe that? You tied my hands and ankles. You covered my head with a wet towel and tied it around my neck with a rope.”
“I didn’t.”
“Don’t damn lie to me.” She glared at that godawful yellow streak disappearing under the collar of his black shirt.