baying wolves on the floor of the Grand Canyon. Something sprinkled down on his head, shoulders, and arms. It was dry grass. Two cockroaches crackled to the ground next to him, and geckos scurried like rain down the grass walls.
Lollie LaRue was bringing down the rafters.
Luna rammed a gag into her mouth. Immediately Sam’s tense neck and shoulder muscles slackened. He took a long, relieved breath. She jerked the gag out and started again.
“Where’s the gag?” Luna and his guards searched the ground.
She was sitting on it. Sam had seen her ram it under her skirts, which meant she knew exactly what she was doing. God, she could scream. He could feel the racket ring in his teeth. If he hadn’t hated Luna so much, he would have gone over and gotten the damn gag himself, just to shut her up. He’d suffered through worse torture, but on a scale of one to ten, this was a good eight—ten being the loss of an eye, and one being the bite of a whip.
Luna gave up the search and moved toward her. Sam stiffened, instinct telling him what was coming. Her face was still purple, her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and her scream had dropped a gravelly octave. Luna stood at her side, his face a picture of anger and frustration. Then, as he raised his fist, his look changed to one of sick delight.
“If you damage the goods, you won’t get paid,” Sam said, his voice inflected with boredom he was far from feeling. Luna meant to batter her into silence. Sam could see it on the man’s face. He knew that look.
Luna stopped, obviously struggling to keep from following through with his swing. Slowly he lowered his hand, still knotted in a tight fist.
“Leave her,” Luna shouted to his guards before he spun on his bootheel and left, his guards following like shadows. The door slammed shut.
“You can stop now. They’ve gone.”
Her scream tapered off, and her damp icy blue eyes popped open.
“Quite effective,” he complimented her. “Use it often?”
She stared at him for the longest time. He didn’t break their stare, and finally she admitted in a hoarse voice, “Only when my wits fail me.”
“That often, huh?”
“You know, Samuel—”
“Sam, not Samuel.” He paused. “Nobody calls me Samuel.”
“Oh, all right, then. You know, Sam, you have to take fault for this.” Her voice rasped defensively.
“You’re probably right, but casting the blame won’t save us now.”
“Well, my daddy will pay the ransom. He’ll pay it, you’ll see. He’ll save me,” she said almost too quickly. Her voice was firm, contradicting the doubt that showed in her ice-colored eyes. She stared over her shoulder for the longest time, an unseeing look in those same light eyes.
If he’d ever met a woman who needed saving, it was this one.
“I never doubted it for a minute,” he said. Her eyes snapped back to lock her gaze with his. Curiosity piqued, he tried to read her expression. It was wistful, as if she’d lost something precious. She averted those eyes, her fingers nervously twisting that sparkly thing on her shoe again.
What was this? he thought. Her actions belied her words. They implied that she was unsure about her rescue, despite her tone. She’d tried to sound sure, but her eyes said she wasn’t. He wondered who this poor little rich girl needed to convince, him or herself. He didn’t comment, though, just warned her. “Don’t try a stunt like that again. Luna won’t let you get away with it. He’d have no problem sending you back dead, and he will if that ransom isn’t paid.”
Her face turned grayer than Lake Michigan in winter.
It was a little easier to feel sorry for her when she wasn’t screaming. He didn’t need any more hysterics, so he figured he’d be better off if he lied to her. At least then they could get through whatever time was left. The more time they had, the more chance there was for escape.
“Look, I’m sure your father will come up with the money. In a few days you’ll