Page 65 of Protect My Heart

She slowly reached for the temperature controls. When he didn’t move, she took it as a good sign. “Why do you work for him?”

Silence met her.

While waiting for the air in the car to warm, she blew on her fingers. She really wished she had her coat and gloves. She cut her gaze it him. “Does he pay you well?”

He snickered. “Shut up, Bitch.”

Okay, not money by his reaction. She pushed down her fear and kept going. “He must have something on you. Were you in prison and he offered you a deal?”

He shook his head and raised the gun a little. “You don’t know nothin’ about him or me.”

More words, that was a start. “I know he has power over you. I don’t think you like it.”

He bit his cheek. That’s a good sign. He was fighting to keep his mouth shut.

“Were you the one who killed my father?” She knew he wasn’t but maybe he would tell her something about it.

“I didn’t off your old man. Not that I wouldn’t have.” He looked out the side window as she turned onto the side street. “He’s dead.”

“My father. I know.”

“No, the one who killed ‘em.”

This comment set off bells from her clinical psychology training. “Are you afraid he’ll kill you when he’s done with you, too?”

He whipped his head around. “I ain’t afraid of that pasty old man.”

Oh but he was. She could see it in his eye. With her eyes back on the road, she nodded. She may not have gotten him to spill his emotional baggage, but she discovered his fear and got him thinking. She’d take that for now.

Her gaze cut to him. “You know what I don’t get, why did he take Tigger?”

A creepy sneer raised his lip. “He’s crazy like that. Torture and pain get him off.”

Fear washed down her spine. Whose torture? Tig’s or hers?

She didn’t know which would be worse, being tortured or watching that sweet, lovable dog in pain. Pushing back tears, she couldn’t let it happen. Any of it.

She pulled in behind the ice house. Jim’s truck was gone. So was Walt’s rental car.

Think, think, think. She needed to find this journal and knife, find a way to leave a note for Jim, and then stay alive all while rescuing Tigger.

Piece a cake. She snorted. Too bad she couldn’t bake.

Taking in as much courage as she could with the brisk air, she stepped from the car and slammed the door.

Her escort slipped the gun in his pocket but kept his hand on it. “No tricks.”

She glanced in the back car window and spied the package. The return address read Nordstrom’s. Shit. Not the package they wanted.

She moved up the walk to the door and reached for her purse to retrieve the key. His grip on the bag tightened. “I need my house key.”

The man closed in, crowding her before releasing his grip on the bag.

“What’s your name?”

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m entitled to know your name, since your standing closer to me than the last guy I dated.”