Page 51 of Tempted by a SEAL

She was on her own.

She’d swiped her credit card and purchased a ticket for a flight back. No sense in staying here with a man like that—someone so irritational he’d storm out without a civilized discussion.

Bloody hell.

“This is worse than traffic in London,” she said. “There, in the most congested area at the city’s center, cars aren’t even allowed. It’s buses and cabs only.”

The cab driver eyed her in the rearview mirror. “Traffic’s always bad on the bridge during nice weather. Everyone wants to head to the beach. People are always coming and going.”

The beach. She’d never even made it there. Who came to Virginia Beach and didn’t even see the ocean?

They were at standstill over some large river, but it wasn’t the same as watching the waves crash on the shore. Too bad she hadn’t decided to turn this into a holiday of sorts—check into a hotel and pretend she’d never met an irritable, irrational man like Hunter.

Although she could understand his anger at finding her decoy wedding band, the fact that he’d simply walked out, slamming the door behind him? That he hadn’t asked her about it or confronted her or bloody well done whatever a decent man would have?

She shuddered.

“You okay?” the cabbie asked.

“Yes, brilliant,” she said, sinking back in her seat.

Good heavens, and she was still wearing Rebecca’s clothing. She’d have to send her a check or something when she was back in England. Not that she knew her address or even her last name.

Emma blew out a blew of exasperation.

The sun beaming in through the cab’s window was hot and uncomfortable, and she closed her eyes, wishing she were stuck somewhere else.

The revving of a motorcycle engine startled her, and suddenly she saw two motorcycles pulling along beside them, one on each side of the vehicle. They’d woven through the traffic on the bridge and didn’t remove their helmets as they stopped alongside her.

Her heart nearly stopped as she saw they were carrying weapons.

One pounded on the driver’s sound window, shouting, while the second pulled at the back door where she was sitting.

“Go! Go!” she screamed to the driver.

“Lady, I can’t go anywhere!”

The glass suddenly was smashed beside her, and she screamed as pieces of it rained down around her. A gloved hand reached in, unlocking the door, and then she was yanked from the vehicle as the cab driver yelled. Pulled out his cell phone and yelled that he needed help.

Emma stumbled as rough hands yanked her toward the motorcycle, and a mask was tossed over her head. In the next moment, a man bodily pulled her across his lap as he revved the engine, crushing her ribs as he pinned her to him.

She screamed as he revved the engine and began to drive, weaving in and out of the cars around them. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gasped beneath the hood they’d thrown over her, and her stomach churned as they wove back and forth with her unable to see a thing. She could smell the acrid scent of old sweat and what had to have been urine.

As she cried out again, trying to gain enough balance to push herself away, something heavy thumped the top of her head.

Everything faded to blackness.

***

Hunter muttered under his breath as he headed toward the bridge leading away from the Virginia Beach area. Of course Emma hadn’t decided to take a nice holiday and check into a hotel on the beach—she’d booked a damn flight back to England.

He sped up, racing toward the bridge as he hung up with the cab company, cursing as he saw the multiple police cars racing by.

What in the hell had happened?

A couple of years ago there’d been a horrific accident on that very bridge. A car crash had killed a man who’d gone over the edge in the collision, and as it turned out, the man who’d died had been Rebecca’s husband. She’d been widowed after the accident, and according to Patrick, was still nervous being over water now.

He didn’t like the sight of the police and ambulances driving by, and his gut clenched as he pulled over to a police cruiser parked alongside the road.

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