CHAPTER ONE

            The temperature had dropped with the onset of evening and become cloudy.  It was just beginning to rain.  Typical October weather in Blake County, New York but damn, Elle Jameson didn’t want to be out on a miserable night like this. 

            If she hadn’t gotten stuck working late, she’d already be home, feet up on the sofa, sipping from a glass of white wine, getting her Friday night into the weekend started.

            As it was, though, her client, Mr. Bellman, had decided he just had to take one more “final” look at the plans she’d worked up to remodel his sprawling, museum-sized house and, well, here she was.

            She’d left her car at the office and rather than brave trying to park her car in the busy downtown traffic, had taken public transit to the upscale section of Blake County where the Bellman house was located.  Narrowing her eyes against the falling drops, she walked under the glow of the street lights, making her way back to the bus. 

            As the rain soaked into her hair and clothing, Elle contented herself with the knowledge that the fat fee she would get for the redesign, added to what she already had saved, made it so she could get out of the apartment she was renting and put a down payment on a place of her own.  She was really going to do it.  She was going to buy an apartment.  She grinned and did a quick two-step, her heels clicking against the sidewalk. 

            She’d already chosen the place.  Went out with a realtor to hunt apartments as soon as she found out she would be the architect assigned to the Bellman project.  She was good at her job.  Very good, if she could allow herself the lack of modesty.  She had earned this and if this client was turning out to be a bit fussy, well, it was worth it.  She would put up with any amount of fuss if it meant having her own place.

            She’d already told the realtor this was the place she wanted and had made an offer that the woman felt confident would be accepted.  Elle expected to hear good news that the deal was set any time now.

            She was thinking of furnishings for the new place.  She’d have to go slowly making purchases.  Money would be a little tight for some time with her savings depleted, but it didn’t hurt to window shop and she glanced at the offerings as she passed by the store fronts.

            She passed a shop, closed now, that had an array of decorator tables that she couldn’t resist stopping in front of for a closer look.  Maybe she could stretch her budget to include one of those.

            “Oh—”

            The man who bumped into Elle was big.  Under the glow of the street light, she had to admit he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.  Tall, broad shouldered, his full dark hair was windblown from the kick of the wind blowing this evening and just brushed the collar of the overcoat unbuttoned over a charcoal gray suit.

            Square, strong jaw darkened by a sexy five o’clock shadow.  He was peering out at her from deep blue eyes.  Oh, yes, he was hot.

            “Sorry,” he said.

            Even his voice was sexy.  She’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of the apartment that she hadn’t seen him coming toward her.  She started to say, “That’s okay” when she realized he’d made no move to step away from her.  In fact, he was still pressed against her.  Despite the clothing that separated them, she could feel his every rock hard muscle.  A definite pick me up to end a long work day. 

            She moved to step back from him herself, albeit reluctantly, when his eyes widened on her slightly.

            “Shit,” he muttered, his brows drawing together.

            Elle felt a flash of annoyance.  Well, hell, he’d walked into her.  Before she could tell him that, his arm swung around her shoulders.  He pulled her closer, tight against him.

            “What are you doing?”  Alarm replaced the annoyance.  She took a step back, or tried to,  but something pricked her neck.  In her peripheral vision, she saw him palm a small syringe.

            An instant later, the syringe disappeared in his coat pocket.  He’d injected her with something.  Four alarm fear shot through her.  She opened her mouth to scream her lungs out, but no sound came out.  Her eyelids drooped.  The big step away from him that broke into a run that she made, turned out to be only in her mind.  All she managed to do was drag one foot against the other. 

            She stumbled against him.  Unable to fully support her own weight now, her head lolled onto his chest.  His arm wrapped around her, supporting her and slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, he began to lead her away from the store window, along the sidewalk to the street curb where a car was parked.

            There wasn’t much pedestrian traffic at this time of evening.  Many nine-to-fivers would already be home, but a man and woman passed by Elle and the man leading her away, their arms wrapped around each other against the evening chill. 

            Elle tried to get the couple’s attention. To let the man and woman walking briskly by, hunched into their jackets against the slow drizzle, know that Elle was being led away against her will but she couldn’t lift her head from the man’s chest, much less call out.  In her mind, she envisioned herself jabbing her elbow into his sternum as she’d been taught in the self defense class she took last year at the community center, but she couldn’t lift her head and her arms felt as strong as wet noodles.

            She fought the lethargy that stole over her, sapping her strength and leaving her feeling boneless.  A man was passing by them now, an older man.  She forced her eyes wide, struggled to make eye contact, to will him to see the fear and panic that surely had to be reflected there.

            The man stopped walking.  Took a step toward them, then another. Elle’s heart pounded.  Open your mouth.  Move your tongue. Tell him you are being taken against your will. 

            “Pardon me,” the man said in a clipped accent.  “Is everything all right here?  The lady appears in distress.”

            Elle moved her tongue but the words she’d planned to say came out in one garbled syllable.

            The man who held her—her abductor—tightened his hold on her.  “Easy, sweetheart.  We’ll be home soon.”  He kissed Elle’s brow softly then said to the other man, “Thank you.  I appreciate your concern.  My wife isn’t feeling well.  I need to get her home right away.”

            Elle stumbled and doubled over.

            Elle’s abductor caught her against him and smoothed damp hair off her brow.  “It’s okay, baby.  If you need to be sick, get it out.”

            The man who stood across from Elle and her abductor took a hasty step back.  No doubt that was what her abductor intended with his comment. 

            Elle wanted to tell the man that she wasn’t sick, that she’d been drugged but again no words came out. All she managed this time was a pitiful whimper. 

            “Oh, yes.  The poor young lady.  I won’t detain you any longer,” the man said.

            His footsteps clicked across the sidewalk as he took up a brisk pace in the opposite direction to where Elle was being led.  Her abductor went to a car parked at the curb, a plain compact.  Elle noted that and the color—gray—hoping she would have an opportunity to need these details later—praying she would be an exception to the statistic that once an abductor got a woman into his vehicle that woman was as good as dead.

            Her abductor swung the rear passenger door open and deposited her inside.  He released her to get in beside her.  Without his arms supporting her, she fell onto her side on the seat, her cheek and one eye squashed against the blue vinyl upholstery. 

            This wasn’t a taxi.  If the man who’d abducted her was in the back seat with her then how was he going to drive her away from there?  Would he be getting out again?  If so, while he did, could she summon enough strength to open the door and fling herself out of the car?  She was trying to work up strength to do that. 

            “Smooth.  Gotta hand it to you, Sloane, my man.  You’re a natural.”

            The voice came from the front of the car.  Elle’s stomach clenched so tightly she might really vomit.  There was someone else in the vehicle with them.  Her abductor would not be leaving her to take a place behind the steering wheel.

            The man who’d spoken peered over the front seat. Scrawny with a scruff of beard and hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in too many days.

            The man let out a low whistle.  “You were right.  This one was worth you keeping an eye on.  Making sure the time was right before you snatched her.  She’s hot.  Boss is going to be pleased.”

            Her abductor—Sloane—didn’t respond.

            “Hey, relax.  You made it for sure,” the driver went on.  “No way the boss isn’t going to take you on after this smooth score. The name Sloane Devlin will be passed down to the new recruits as a model for how to get this done nice and easy.  I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a bonus for this night’s work and,” the driver tapped his hands against the vinyl seat in a little drum roll, “me too for helping to make this go down right.” He laughed. “The boss’s buyer is hot for a sexy, curvy brunette.” He licked his lips. “Y-uuum but she’s got all that.  We’ve done business with this guy before and the boss likes to keep him happy every time he’s in the market for a new sex slave.”

            Sex slave.  Elle gasped.  These men—and their boss—were going to sell her as a sex slave.   Fear cut off her breath.

            Again, Sloane made no response to the driver’s comments.  If Elle had been hoping for a denial, Sloane remained silent.

            The driver laughed again.  “Fuck, you don’t say much. Shit. Okay by me.”

            Sloane’s mouth thinned and he glared at the driver.   “Get us out of here now.”

            The smile left the driver’s face and he swung around in the seat.  “Yeah. Okay. Sure thing.” 

            Elle heard a quiver in man’s voice.  He was clearly afraid of Sloane.

            The driver started the engine and pulled away from the curb.  Elle’s abductor—Sloane— bent over her.  For an instant she thought she saw regret and remorse in his ice blue eyes.  She tried to hold his stare, to plead with him, to reach his humanity, if he had any.  But those eyes really were made of ice.  They hardened.  An instant later he gave her another injection and this time everything went black.