Page 1 of Donovan Blake: Adrenalin

CHAPTER ONE

Billionaire businessman Donovan Blake knew he might not survive the night. Being double-crossed and ripped off was one thing. But being blindfolded, hands tied behind his back, shoved into what he assumed was the back of a van, and driven to God knows where was something else entirely. He’d been in plenty of tough situations but nothing compared to this. To make matters worse, a storm was raging and no-one had any idea where he was.

He could hear two men talking. Between the noisy vehicle and the torrential rain it was impossible to hear what was being said, but he was fairly certain they weren’t paying him any attention. If he was going to try to get away this could well be the only chance he’d have. It was slim, but slim was better than none.

Hidden in a wide belt loop at the back of his waist was a tiny blade. Though he never thought he’d have to use it, part of his training regime had been practicing the tricky maneuver. Finding the tiny thread with the tips of his fingers, he lightly tugged. The stitching unraveled, and the loop opened up exposing the blade. It had only one sharp edge, and he was able to safely move it into position and start cutting the rope.

“Make up your fucking mind,” he heard one the thugs yell. “Am I driving the regular route or taking the back street?”

“Take the back street,” his partner yelled back. “Boris is a fucking lunatic. If he really was waiting to hear from this asshole he’ll have people out lookin’ by now. I told you we should’ve let him make that damn call! ”

“Too risky, and yeah. That street’s just up ahead. I’m taking it.”

* * *

As Phoebe Beaumont drove out of the hospital parking lot all she could think about was crawling into bed and sleeping for a week. Becoming a nurse in the trauma center had been a dream come true, but the excitement she’d imagined was far from the grim reality.

She glanced at the clock: 2:17 a.m.

The night had been chaotic.

In addition to the usual mix of casualties there had been two gunshot victims, and a five-car pile up on the interstate had sent a slew of casualties into the ward.

In recent months her passion for the job had waned. More than once she’d almost handed in her notice. The dreamy Dr. Peterson had suggested she try private nursing. He claimed the money was great and there was a shortage of qualified candidates. She’d wanted to tell him she’d be happy to nurse him anytime—but all the girls flirted with him and she wasn’t about to be one of the crowd.

Letting out a weary sigh, she turned onto a back street. Though it was dark and creepy it was a short cut home. It also spiked her adrenalin. The feeling was one she loved. It was akin to a roller coaster ride, or even speeding through a red light. But as the heavy rain hit the windshield she was forced to slow down and squint. Most of the street lights were out, and the road was full of potholes. The last thing she wanted was to find herself stuck in one of them or end up with a flat tire. When she finally reached the sharp curve that would lead her back to the main street, she had to swing wide to avoid a deep groove near the edge.

Suddenly her headlights revealed two men attacking a third.

As she slammed on her brakes, one of the muggers spun around and started running towards her. All she could think to do was blast her horn. To her shock it worked. He froze for a moment, then bolted back to his victim. A second later both thugs disappeared into the dark, and she saw the tail lights of a van speeding away. With her pulse racing she drove towards the man lying on the ground and called 911, only to find there was no service. But to her great relief he was rising to his feet.

“Are you okay?” she yelled, stepping from her car.

“Yeah,” he shouted, staggering towards her.

Not sure just how badly he was injured and wanting him to get in her car safely, she made her way through the downpour to open the passenger door. As he lumbered past her and climbed in, she noticed he had a bloody nose and a gash on his cheek. But she was getting drenched, and raced around the vehicle to get back in.

“I can’t believe you stopped,” he grunted as she settled behind the wheel. “Most people would have called the police and hightailed it out of here.”

“I tried to call 911 and there was no service. But I’m a nurse and I’m trained to deal with emergencies,” she panted as she turned the heat on high. “I’ll take you to the hospital. It’s not far.”

“No hospitals,” he said adamantly. “I just need to clean up and dry off. I don’t suppose you have a towel in here”

“Sorry, no. I’m Phoebe, by the way.”

“Hello, Phoebe. My name’s Donovan. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” he said, then letting out a sigh, he flipped down the visor and studied his face.

As his jacket sleeve slipped back exposing a gold Rolex, she wondered if that was why he’d been mugged. Then her eyes moved from the expensive timepiece to his face. Even in the dim light she could see he was romance novel handsome. Chiseled features, amazingly full lips, and his mop of wet, dark hair framed caramel eyes.

“If you don’t want to go to the hospital where should I take you?” she asked, wondering if the bizarre meeting was a quirk of fate.

“That’s a good question. They jumped me while I was getting in my car so it’s probably not a good idea to go back there, and I live on the other side of town. Are there any decent hotels around here?”

“I’ll take you to my place so you can at least clean yourself up,” she offered before she could stop the words spilling from her mouth.

“Are you sure? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I live at Piccadilly Place. It’s a condo complex and there are security cameras outside the building and in the garage.”

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