Free The Beholder by Connie Hall

cars?” She gazed at the 1932 Rolls.
    “My father’s.”
    “Does your father know you kidnap women?”
    “He’s dead.”
    “Oh, sorry. What happened?”
    “You’re asking too many questions again.”
    “Is it a crime to be curious?”
    “No, but it might get you in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
    His dark warning must have worked, because she clammed up.
    When they reached his Jeep, Kane opened the door for her. “Get in, Nina.”
    “Wait a minute,” she blurted, pausing to look up at him. “How do you know my name?”
    “I know a lot about you.”
    “Like what?”
    “That you ask too many questions.”
    “Hah, what else do you know about me?” Her brows narrowed, and her lips hardened with suspicion.
    “I know you’re a pet psychic.”
    “That’s just my line of work—wait a minute. How do you know all this?” Her brow furrowed, her blue eyes sharpening.
    “I searched your purse.”
    “Where is it?” She looked anxiously up at him.
    He took pleasure in nodding and saying, “I burned it.”
    “That was a gift!”
    “A gag, right?”
    “It wasn’t. A client gave it to me,” she retorted. “And I happened to like it.” Her full lips puckered in thought, then her jaw dropped a little. “Good grief! My businesscards were in there—those things are expensive—and my wallet. Tell me you took that out?”
    He shook his head and recalled watching the smiley face turn to ash. He hadn’t felt that much pleasure in a long time.
    “There goes my Social Security card and driver’s license. Do you know how hard it is getting a driver’s license now that they’ve cracked down with Homeland Security? You have to stand in line at DMV for hours. You burned them both? How could you?” She was so irritated now, words tumbled from her mouth like bullets from a loaded Glock.
    He was getting a taste of Nina Rainwater’s fighting spirit, and he was enjoying it. He sensed she was not the type easily riled, but once there the rhetorical questions alone could fill a man full of holes. He found himself wondering what it took to vex her in bed as he bodily picked her up and set her down in the seat.
    “Wait! Stop! You can’t do this!”
    He slammed the door on her tirade and locked it. He had few pleasurable moments in his life, but this ranked right up at the top of the list. He walked around the Jeep and sat in the driver’s seat. He saw her eyes widen and shoot blue stardust at him, and his mood plummeted about three flights.
    She fought the ropes as if she wanted to strike him and said, “I bet you stood there, enjoying every minute of it. You did, I can tell. You’re a sadist, a—” she searched for a derogatory moniker “—brute. That’s what you are. Pure and simple. You’re terrible—as if you didn’t know that already. What made you burn them?” Her forehead
    wrinkled in realization; then she said, “Oh, I get it. You hoped to dispose of them like you’re going to do with me . That it?”
    “Pretty much,” he said, starting the Jeep.
    “You could have given them to charity. And what about my car?”
    “I did you a favor and burned that, too.” He’d hidden the Taurus in the woods to escape detection, but he hadn’t done away with it completely yet. He didn’t know why, since he could never release her now.
    “You could have given it to someone in need.”
    He saw her force back the tears, but one escaped down her cheek. A sudden pang of guilt stabbed him, and he hated it. This pureness and innocence had to be an act, surely. It seemed genuine, and he was responding to it.
    At his close scrutiny, she grew suddenly self-conscious. She flopped on her right shoulder, laid her head against the window and stared out the glass, making a show of ignoring him.
    Good. At least they understood each other now, and she knew what to expect. He opened the garage door with the remote and the Jeep lurched out into the snow. He felt her silence alive and stabbing him. Or was that his wounds?