Page 2 of Shadowing Her Stalker

It was true. Too true.

“What do you want?” She pointed a trembling finger at the tote half-crushed under his feet. “There’s cash in my wallet. Take it. Take what you need.”

The man gave a derisive snort. “I am taking what I need. Now drive, or I’ll shoot you right here.”

In the moment, the notion of being left for dead in a subcompact rental parked in section 104 of a nearly deserted parking deck sounded like the worst possible fate. So she shifted into gear, and pulled out of the space.

“Where do you want me to go?”

“Get us out of here,” he ordered.

She chanced a glance at her passenger as she pointed the car toward the exit. No, she hadn’t imagined the gun. Or the khakis. Or the polo shirt. But even if she could describe them down to the weave of the cotton of his shirt, the police would still be looking for a needle in a haystack.

There was absolutely nothing notable about the man beside her.

Cara eased out of the parking deck and into the lane leading to the airport exit. There’d be a gate to clear. Someone would see them. She’d be able to get help.

Consoling herself with the knowledge they were in a well-populated area, she headed for the parking attendant. But as they rolled to a stop behind another car, she saw none of the white booths with their sliding glass windows were manned.

To her horror, she saw the velvet-cloaked arm of the wizard family patriarch wave his rental agreement at a scanner attached to the side of the booth. The electronic gate lifted, and the overstuffed sedan rolled away.

When Cara pulled up to the booth, she gazed up into its emptiness in bewilderment. The man beside her bumped her elbow. She jumped and looked down. Had he nudged her with the gun? No. His hand. He shoved the rental envelope she’d tucked into her tote at her.

“Stop messing around,” he growled.

She blinked back a hot rush of frustrated tears as she took the sleeve bearing the printed barcode and held it up to the scanner.

The barrier lifted, but she couldn’t seem to take her foot off the brake.

“Drive,” her abductor ordered.

“Drive where?”

He turned in his seat to square up with her, the gun clutched in his right hand. “Go. Now.”

He uttered the commands through clenched teeth, and Cara’s brain engaged. She hit the gas and the small car lurched forward, engine revving. The road leading away from the single-terminal airport was nearly deserted. As she approached the entrance to the major arteries surrounding the capital city, she instinctively lifted her foot from the gas.

“Take the ramp,” he ordered.

She put on her signal, but took the right turn at a high rate of speed. Cara chanced a glance at her passenger. He gripped the console between the seats to keep his equilibrium, but kept his weapon pointed in her direction.

The bypass ended a few miles from the airport, one lane leading to downtown Little Rock and Interstate 40. She gravitated toward it, intent on following the route to her parents’ ranch in a snug valley of the Ozark Mountains, but the man beside her had a different plan.

“Stay in the middle lane,” he instructed.

“But—” she began to protest.

“Middle lane,” he repeated, cutting her off as an eighteen-wheeler forced its way out of the merge lane, neatly boxing her in.

She followed the flow of traffic onto Interstate 30 South. The other lane circled the south side of the city on its way to Texas. Cara’s mind raced across the miles ahead. She wasn’t overly familiar with the southwest corner of the state. She’d never been to Texarkana or any of the other towns between Little Rock and Dallas. And the only times she’d been to Dallas, she’d flown.

“Where are we going?” she asked, speaking only to fill the silence. Perhaps, if she got him talking—

“We’re going to drive until I tell you to stop.”

She gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles glowing white against her skin. “You can take the car. I don’t care,” she offered. “Take it.”

“I am,” he said, a note of smug amusement in his tone. “And I’m taking you with it.”

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