That unexpected bit of sweetness in Gary pushed Dominique over the edge. The man was willing to pimp himself out to pay for his mother’s cancer treatments and mortgage. She hadn’t expected that from such a glib, sly player, and it impressed her. She’d never imagined she’d get involved with a married man, but Gary wasn’t really married, after all. At Christmas, Trin jetted off to be with her father while Gary spent the holidays with Dominique. After a while, he’d shown her the massive document—really, it was almost a textbook—that revealed the deal he’d made with the devil. It had made Dominique’s jaw drop. Gary hadn’t fabricated any part of that story.
I’m only showing this to you because I need you to know what I’m up against, Gary said. I want to leave her, but I can’t right now, because if I do, I have to pay back every dime I got, plus a penalty fee.
No court would enforce that.
I walked into this with my eyes open. My lawyer went over it. Tom says it’s an ironclad agreement.
“This isn’t a good time,” the man said into the phone, dragging Dominique back into the present. The musty house, the nauseating mess. That was where her affair with Gary had led her. The shame that she’d avoided in two years of dating him pressed down on her chest at that moment.
The man turned his face away. “Can’t right now,” he murmured, moving farther down the hall from the kitchen.
Dominique’s eyes panned around the room. No knives. No obvious way to escape. What she noticed instead was the old cellar door with a big, shiny steel bolt on it.
The kidnappers had probably stashed Gary in the basement, she realized. That’s why she hadn’t heard so much as a creak from the floor above. It would be easier to stuff him down there, no matter how much of a cobwebby mess it was, than to take him upstairs and risk him jumping out a window. She shot a glance down the hallway. The man had turned his back to her, and he was moving away, whispering so she couldn’t make out a word. She took a couple of breaths, eased back the bolt on the cellar door, and inched the door open.
She wanted to call out Gary’s name, but she didn’t dare. It was pitch-black down there. She pulled open the door a little wider and reached one hand in, forgetting for a second that she was still handcuffed, so one hand trailed after the other. Her fingers fluttered over the wall. She found the light switch, but when she flicked it on, nothing happened. She tried again a couple of times. Was electricity out completely? That was impossible, because there was a light on in the kitchen and there’d been one on in the front parlor. Either this was a bad connection, or there was no lightbulb.
Her ears strained for some sign of life, but she heard nothing.
“Okay. Goodbye,” the man said.
Recoiling from the darkness, she shut the door and slid the bolt back in place.
Chapter 8
Was that one of your accomplices?” Dominique asked the man.
He shrugged. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“We haven’t finished cleaning the fridge out.”
“Leave it. Someone else will take the trash out. We’re going upstairs.”
“What’s upstairs?”
“Your guest room, Calendar Girl.”
“What did you just call me?”
He gave her the hint of a smile. “I used to have your swimsuit calendar.”
She felt a hot flush over her face. To think of this man with a gun tucked into his jeans playing visions of Dominique in a bikini in his head… that made her feel ill. Nana had been firmly opposed to Dominique’s desire to model. Think of the strangers pawing over you in their heads, she’d warned. They’ll believe you belong to them. If Nana hadn’t suffered a stroke and died when she did, she probably would have barricaded the door to keep Dominique from going to New York. Now, Dominique suspected Nana was right all along.
“You don’t want to call me that again,” Dominique said, “because, gun or no gun, I’ll crack your head open.”
He frowned, but he didn’t answer. Dominique stormed out of the kitchen, back through the hallway and up the rickety old staircase, which creaked loudly in complaint. The house must have been grand a lifetime ago, before it was abandoned and started crumbling. Dominique noticed the remnants of crumbled molding on the walls just under the ceiling.
“How did you find this place?” she asked.
“I have a friend who works in real estate. I came out here and had the agent show me a bunch of places in the area. I knew this one would be perfect.”
“You rented it? That’s a pretty great way to let the police know you were involved. Maybe your partners want to leave you holding the bag.”
He made a dismissive noise.
“Seriously, if they connect Gary with this place, that will come right back to your doorstep,” Dominique went on. “You got a good defense lawyer lined up? ’Cause you’re going to need one.”
“Thanks for your concern,” the man said. “I didn’t rent it. It can’t be connected with me.”
“That’s what you think.”
“It’s what I know.”
“You research the neighbors around here?”
The man sighed. “I didn’t need to. There aren’t any neighbors.”
“Neighbors. Campers. Hunters. There’s always somebody around.”
“This house is on sixty acres. Totally private. There’s a fence around it.”
“A fence? Big deal.”
“Electrified fence,” the man said, through gritted teeth.
“Oh, an electrified fence.” Dominique didn’t even try to keep the mockery out of her voice. “I wonder if the power to it went out, just like the fridge.”
“Shut up!” the man barked. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you.”
Now it was Dominique who made a dismissive noise in the back of her throat. His frustrated outburst made him sound just like the Viking, and she knew she was getting under
