Fast Burn (Body Armor #4)(88)

He grinned suggestively and went back to driving.

Terrance, the passenger in front, scowled. “Who says you get to play with her?”

“I’m the one who took the worst beating from that gorilla who came after her. She owes me.”

Sahara felt her nerves fraying. She drew up her legs and kicked Andy’s seat. Hard. “He’s not a gorilla!”

The car swerved dangerously, sliding on the wet road and damn near spinning. Olsen thrust out an arm to pin her in place until Andy got control of the car again.

Everyone was silent in shock.

Sahara, who’d half slid down the seat, struggled back up.

Olsen gripped her face in a hard hand. “Do anything like that again and you won’t like the consequences.”

“What will you do,” she sneered as best she could, given how he squeezed her cheeks. “Kidnap me? Tie me up? Freeze me to death?”

Terrance laughed. “By God, she’s got balls.”

Olsen thrust her away. “She won’t be so ballsy when I stick her in the trunk.”

Sahara snorted.

He turned to her. “Naked. I’ll stuff you in there naked—and I’ll let Andy be the one to strip you.”

Okay, maybe that quelled a little of her rebelliousness. But not all. “Ross is going to be furious. Did you know he visited me?” She lifted her chin. “We had a nice, friendly chat. He asked me out to dinner.”

Another silent shock ballooned, then burst with a million outraged questions from all directions. She sat in smug silence until they wound down, then said with derision, “Oh, so you didn’t know? Hmm. Interesting.”

Olsen, being the closest, opted for the most intimidation—by pointing the gun directly at her. “Where did he visit you?”

“A party at Douglas Grant’s house.” She took pleasure in saying, “Do you know the DA? He’s a pig, so I assume you’re good friends.”

Olsen looked blank.

Terrance jerked around over the seat to glare at her. “Why the fuck would he be visiting the DA?”

Sahara smiled. “Why, to see me, of course. He likes me.” Her gaze coasted over all of them. “He’s going to be so enraged when he sees how you’ve treated me.”

“Fuck him,” Andy said with venom, slamming his hands against the steering wheel. “We need to get paid!”

“We’re here,” Olsen said calmly. “Pull around back.”

Sahara bent to see out the windshield, but until the headlights hit a stained glass window, she didn’t realize they were at a church. At least there shouldn’t be a bed, meaning that had only been an idle threat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s abandoned,” Olsen said, already clenching one freckled hand around her arm. “Don’t get any ideas about salvation.”

She managed a credible laugh. “I bet you all incinerate the second you set foot on holy ground.”

Olsen started to open the door, but it was suddenly jerked out of his hand, spilling him halfway out. Since he had a grip on Sahara, she got jerked across the seat.

The pressure on her tightly tied arms made her groan.

Ross Moran stood there, big, blue-eyed, heaving with fury. He seemed impervious to the rain drenching him, plastering his hair to his head, gluing his shirt to his broad shoulders. His fisted hands hung tense at his sides, and his scorching gaze went over her as she struggled upright.

Their eyes met, then his attention shot to Olsen. “Start explaining.”

Sensing a change in her situation, Sahara asked, “Could I please get inside first? I’m soaked, freezing and I’d dearly love to have the feeling restored in my arms.” After all, she couldn’t run off into the night, during a storm, with her arms so tightly tied. She knew she wouldn’t make it far.

If they’d remove the ropes and she could get her bearings, well then...

The blaze of anger on Ross’s face settled into an inferno of quiet rage. He withdrew a large knife from a sheath on his belt and said, “Turn around.”

Terrance protested, saying, “Ross—”

The knife pointed in Terrance’s direction. “Shut the fuck up. I’ll deal with you next.”

Alarmed, he squeaked, “Me?”

Ross looked at Olsen and Andy. “All of you.”

Trying to look brave, Andy stepped out into the rain, too—and promptly pulled up the collar to his jacket, already shivering. “We need our money, damn it.”

“I got your fucking money, moron.” Gently, Ross pressed her forward to better expose her hands. “Don’t move.” He sliced cleanly through the ropes.

“What do you mean, you have the money?” Olsen asked.

“Her brother paid it.”

More questions exploded.

“Gentlemen, please.” Sahara bit back tears as feeling rushed into her aching arms, up to her shoulders and into her neck. “Let’s get out of this miserable rain.”

Ross said, “The three of you go on in.”

Olsen heaved a sigh. “Sorry, no can do, boss. She’s got you bewitched, but what’s done is done. We can’t just turn her loose now.”

“No,” Ross agreed, “we can’t.” He scooped Sahara up into his arms, ignoring the groan she couldn’t stifle.