Free Unlawful Contact by Pamela Clare Page A

praying he would stop and let her out, praying someone would see them and call the police, praying the nightmare would end. As far as she could tell, they were now high above the casinos of Central City and Black Hawk, the car nosing through the dark and snowy streets of some nameless little mountain town, the police left far behind.
    The helicopter hadn’t followed them into the canyon, probably because the wind, low visibility, and high, narrow rock walls made it too dangerous to navigate. But the squad cars had stuck with them—until Hunter had cut the lights and plunged her car down a small side road. Tears of rage and helplessness blurring her vision, Sophie had watched the flashing lights disappear around the bend and had realized she was alone—with a killer.
    In that moment, she’d known it was up to her to protect herself, to escape, to survive.
    If only she weren’t so afraid. And tired. And cold.
    More of the heat generated by the heater stayed in the car now that they had slowed down, and the blanket helped her retain some warmth. But she was still freezing, her soggy clothes holding in the chill. Outside, the temperature continued to plummet, the wind howling, the snow blowing in gusts around them, making it almost impossible to see beyond the muted glow of the headlights.
    Somehow, Hunter seemed to know where he was going. He turned a corner, then pulled into an empty parking lot, drove around to the back of a building, and killed the lights. It was a sporting goods store, one of those “last chance for ski rentals” places that were the winter mainstay of so many small Colorado towns.
    “I need to get a few things.” He put the car in neutral, set the brake. “You stay here.”
    He was leaving her in the car?
    “Okay.” She avoided meeting his gaze, tried to hide her surprise.
    As soon as he was inside, she would call the police on her cell phone and make a run for it. They’d passed a string of houses just down the street. Surely someone would be home. Someone would help her. Up here everyone owned guns.
    He turned off the engine, pocketed her keys, and reached behind his back. “I hate to spoil the little plans you’re making, but I can’t have you running off just now.”
    Before she could react, he’d handcuffed her to the handle of her door.
    “No!” She stared at her wrists in astonishment, adrenaline and outrage temporarily burning away her chills. “You bastard ! You said you’d let me go as soon as you got away!”
    He leaned in close, his face inches from hers, his voice silky, icy amusement in his eyes. “Do you believe everything convicted murderers tell you?”
    Then he fished her cell phone from her purse, climbed out, and slammed the battered driver’s side door behind him.
    Sophie watched him disappear into the swirling storm, desperation and rage swelling in her chest. Well, she’d be damned if she’d just sit here like some subservient little captive waiting for him to come back and shoot her in the head—or worse.
    She jerked on the cuffs, twisted them, looked for some kind of emergency release. After all, he’d broken out of them in a heartbeat. There had to be a way.
    “Come on, Alton! If he did it, you can do it!”
    But if there were a quick way out, she couldn’t find it. Heart hammering, she stopped, closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.
    “Think! Think! Think!”
    The door handle!
    If she could pull it off at one end or the other, she could slip free that way.
    She shifted her position, braced one knee against the door, and yanked on the cuffs with all her strength.
    The steel bit painfully into her wrists, but the handle didn’t budge.
    “Damn!” She glanced into the storm.
    No sign of him.
    Knowing she might never get another chance, she tried again, this time pulling on the door handle itself, but still it held.
    “Oh, come on!”
    What she needed was room to maneuver, more leverage. If she could put her foot against the door and push with