By nineteen hundred, there still was no sign of Caitlyn. He went out to his deck to light the grill, then came back inside. His stomach rumbled. He’d planned on steaks and a salad, plus he’d grabbed some salsa and tortilla chips for them to snack on. It wasn’t necessarily a gourmet meal like when Caitlyn had cooked for him, but hell. He just wanted to spend time with her.
Twenty minutes later, she still hadn’t arrived. He glanced down at his phone and saw there weren’t any messages, so he called her. The phone rang and rang but went to voicemail. Worry churned through his gut. He knew Caitlyn’s phone connected to her car. She could answer even if she was driving, and the fact that she wasn’t and was even later than expected was concerning. He thumbed a message and clicked send.
Did you get lost, Butterfly?
Let me know if you’re on your way. I’ll put the steaks on.
He took the last swig of his beer, tossing the bottle into the recycling bin. Now he was just getting irritated. Being late was one thing, but she could at least respond. Had she forgotten her phone? Was she still packing her overnight bag? He knew women were picky about that sort of thing, but he hoped like hell she wasn’t just standing around her apartment wondering what to wear. Caitlyn didn’t seem like the type who was overly concerned with her looks, but she’d never been to his place before. Maybe she wanted to make a good first impression, so to speak.
By ten minutes to eight, he still hadn’t heard from her and knew something was wrong. It wasn’t like her not to touch base. Even when he was busy with training, she’d still text him throughout the day. Not hearing from her wasn’t normal.
Troy shut off the grill and then grabbed his keys from his dresser. If Caitlyn wasn’t responding, he’d go look for her. What if her car had broken down on the freeway or something? What if she was hurt? Or sick?
He’d been stewing in his townhouse, and she could be stranded somewhere without a cell phone signal.
Damn it all.
***
Caitlyn’s heart pounded as she pulled to the side of the freeway. Her SUV had started sputtering a few minutes ago. She’d already been running late, but this was going to mess up their entire evening. She didn’t know what was wrong, but now she’d have to call a tow truck and then Troy.
Shaking her head, she remembered his story about his sister with a flat tire. How ironic that their dinner plans were now messed up because of her own car troubles. At least he wouldn’t ditch her like his flakey date had ditched him.
Smoke was starting to rise from the hood of her car, and she blew out a sigh.
She didn’t want to stand on the side of the freeway while she called for help, but sitting in a smoking car wasn’t exactly a good idea either. The sun was beginning to set, and she needed to call for help before she was stuck here in the dark.
A black SUV pulled up behind her as she scooted across and climbed out the passenger side of her vehicle. She left the door open, keys and cell phone in hand. Cars were still whizzing by on the freeway. Her heartrate sped up as a tall man climbed out of the SUV. He wasn’t threatening necessarily, but she was a woman alone on the side of the road. He was clean shaven and dressed in business clothes, but he was big. A guy that size could easily overpower her. Had anyone else even noticed she was here?
“Do you need help?” he called out, walking toward her.
The guy looked slightly familiar, and she tilted her head, trying to place him. She was pretty good with faces. After all, she had to be in her line of work. It went a long way to remember names of people at events.
“My car was making a weird noise, and it just started smoking. I was going to call a tow truck, but maybe I should call 911 instead.”
“I’ll take a look at it,” he said, moving closer without waiting for her answer.
He was right in front of her when she gasped. The scent of his cologne nearly knocked her over as memories flooded through her. It was him—the man from the yacht. The tall guy who’d been outside her office over a month ago. He’d followed Evelyn when they’d met that first afternoon and then been onboard that night.
Was this the gunman who’d escaped?
She warily took a step back as he pulled a gun from his waistband, pointing it directly at her. “I need those IDs, sweetheart,” he sneered. “Hand me your purse.”
“Wh-what IDs?”
“I stashed them in your bag. Now hand it over.” She looked in confusion toward her SUV. She did have a purse sitting there, but it wasn’t the one she’d had that night on the yacht. Either way, she didn’t know anything about the IDs.
He grabbed her upper arm when she didn’t move, hard enough to leave a bruise, the gun still pointed at her. “Don’t scream, or I’ll shoot you right here.”
Her car started smoking even more as the engine caught fire. She jumped in surprise, and he cursed. The man reached into her SUV, swearing even more as he pulled out her bag. “Stupid bitch. This isn’t the same purse! Where is it? Where are those identification cards?”
Caitlyn started shaking as he stepped even closer to her. Even without a weapon, this guy was large enough to easily hurt her. His grip on her arm was painful. Brutal. “Let me go,” she said boldly.
He jammed the gun into her side, other
