Free Relative Strangers by Joyce Lamb Page A

man.
    But damn it, he hadn't known what the hell else to do.
    Chapter 1
    After only one day at Holly's, Margot decided that she had to go. Staying put for too long was foolish. In fact, she may have already endangered her only friend.
    Rising from the sofa she'd slept on, she saw on the VCR clock that it was nine in the morning. A glance outside told her it was snowing. Margot didn't relish the thought of hitch-hiking in frigid, snowy weather and considered asking Holly for a ride. But that would mean saying good-bye, something she liked even less than hitchhiking in the winter. Of course, there was Holly's brand-new red Mustang parked out front.
    She paused while folding a blanket and sat on the sofa's arm.
    A new car would get her somewhere fast, and it was safer than hitching. She could swipe Holly's keys from her purse and be on her way. The chances of Holly immediately re-porting the car stolen were slim because Holly didn't have to get ready for work for another two hours. Those two hours would provide enough time for Margot to get to Milwaukee and trade the car for another one.
    Or she could just ask.
    Walking to Holly's bedroom door, she opened it a crack and peered in at her sleeping friend. No, she couldn't afford to ask. When it came to self-preservation, being polite wasn't part of the equation.
    Margot took a shower and tried to figure out the easiest way to get the emeralds back to Beau's brother. Hiring a courier seemed the obvious choice. By the time anyone figured out who had sent them or from where, she'd be long gone.
    To where?
    She couldn't picture what came next, and she remembered another time when she hadn't been able to imagine what her future held. Then, no one had been chasing her but her own demons. She'd been sixteen, hitchhiking alone from Wisconsin to Florida, searching for someone she didn't really expect to find and too broke to even buy herself a cheeseburger. Slater Nielsen had been so nice when he had picked her up in his limousine along the Florida highway.
    He smelled like heaven and wore expensive tailored clothing. Sipping a cognac, he offered her a soft drink and seemed genuinely interested in her story, edited as it was. After only three hours, he made her a proposition. All she had to do, he said, was learn a trade that he would teach her himself.
    Her initial explosive denial prompted a belly laugh that turned his face bright red. He explained that he wasn't a pimp, that he would never ask her to earn a living by using her fabulous body. No, he said, he was interested in her brain.
    Intrigued, Margot listened to what he had in mind.
    Think of it as an education, he said. He would teach her about art and literature, music and theater. He would introduce her to wine and gourmet cooking, tutor her in politics, history, and economics. And he would teach her how to out-maneuver any security system ever designed.
    She'd planned it all at that moment. She would work for him six months, long enough to save some money, then she would move on. It seemed simple, uncomplicated by emo-tional ties and unpaid debts. Slater made it easy.
    The first year flew by, and surprisingly, she enjoyed Slater's game. She liked outsmarting people and security systems, delighted in the discovery that she was good at something besides being a bad girl. She had talent. She was smart. Slater had often said so.
    As another year passed, she grew reluctant to leave the safe haven he provided. At the estate on his private island, he gave her a room of her own and let her decorate it as she pleased. When she turned eighteen, he bought her a car—a convertible with a stereo that would have made even the most jaded teen drool. At twenty-one, he presented her with diamonds and promises for the future.
    They became lovers shortly after that, and she discovered that her fantasies about him had fallen far short of the reality. He had pleased her in ways she hadn't thought possible.
    Never did she question what he asked of