Chapter 2
TWO
Reese Hampton tossed her purse and the Mace on the passenger seat, her eyes trained on the exit sign in front of her. She was exhausted. A hot shower and room service were the next order of business, and the only things that could redeem a flat-out lousy day.
The flight from New York to Chicago had first been delayed.
Then they had encountered a storm front over Pennsylvania, sending half the passengers scrambling for their airsick bags.
The man in the seat next to her had snored, and his hand had fallen in her lap three times.
Given that she didn’t even want to be on this insulting you’re a girl so you do it assignment, she was not in a good mood.
Then walking across the garage, struggling to keep her flipping suitcase rolling without toppling over sideways, she had looked up and met the gaze of the most gorgeous guy she had ever seen.
Caramel brown hair. Chocolate eyes. A deep summer tan and shoulders as wide and rock solid as the Grand Canyon.
The smelly damp garage had receded, replaced by images of rolling in a floral meadow with him, naked in a world of sensual pleasure where problems don’t exist.
But then the whole fantasy had been shot to hell when he had started towards her, an intense and somehow dangerous look in his eye.
Dangerous was sexy in theory. The reality was less than titillating in a dark secluded parking garage.
A total stranger running intently towards her was a little nerve-racking, no matter how cute. Ted Bundy had been cute, and look how he had turned out.
It was a sad testimonial to her pathetic social life that the only man to show interest in her in ages had probably intended to rob her.
Exiting the garage, she put double chocolate fudge eyes out of her mind and tried to figure out where she was.
“Shoot!” Reese saw immediately she had turned the wrong way down a one-way street.
Doing a quick U-turn, she hit the control on the car panel to talk to her GPS.
For being an investigative reporter, she had an appalling sense of direction. She had estimated that she had been rerouted at least forty-seven times in the last two years. She was starting to feel like she was besties with her phone’s personal assistant.
“I need to get to the Crowne Plaza Hotel on North Wabash, please.”
“What, like it’s hard? One moment.”
She had changed the voice on her GPS to be in the style of Reese Witherspoon from Legally Blonde, which always entertained her. Reeses needed to stick together.
Reese flipped the rearview mirror down as she idled at a red light, checking her lipstick. Just as she had suspected. Gone. Good thing the society wedding she was covering for the paper wasn’t until tomorrow. They would slap an apron on her and send her to the kitchen with hair like this.
She flipped the mirror back up, then frowned. What was that flash of green behind her? Why did that car look familiar?
“Head towards the airport exit on 1-190 East for two point seven miles.”
“I can do that.” She checked the mirror again. The green car was still behind her. And there was something about the driver…she was terrible at placing faces.
“I’m on 1-190 now.” Not that Elle Woods cared, but it made her feel better to have a back and forth exchange.
The green car stayed right behind her.
“Now continue on 1-90 East for five point eight miles.”
Darting her eyes back and forth from the road and the mirror, Reese felt a flicker of annoyance. She knew who that was. It was the guy from the garage. He was following her.
Of all the nerve.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she tried to tell herself it was a coincidence. It was possible that he needed to go in the same direction she did. People did that. Go in the same direction.
It was also possible he was following her on purpose.
Without thought, she jerked the wheel hard to the right and squeezed onto the exit ramp, just missing the guardrail.
“You’ve gone the wrong way. Return to the route.”
The car was still behind her.
She went left at the light at the exit, her tires squealing as she took the corner at forty-five miles an hour, her high heel slipping on the gas as she floored it.
“Rerouting.”
There was no question now that he was following her. He was right on her tail, and Reese checked the doors to make sure they were all locked.
If this were New York, she would know where she was going and could head to the police station to file a stalker report. Or call a friend to meet her. But here, in Chicago, she had no idea where she was and no one she could call.
But Reese had no fear of speed.
She weaved in and out of traffic, a certain thrill racing through her. “Heh, heh, think you can catch me?” she gloated to the rearview mirror.
A beer truck cut her off, causing her to slam on her brakes. The green car was back on her tail.
“Shoot! Okay, maybe you can catch me.” Along with alarm, she felt grudging admiration. Clearly this guy was a professional weirdo, as opposed to your run-of-the-mill weirdo.
“What do I do now?” she wondered out loud, gliding through a stop sign.
“I don’t know, because you’re not following my directions,” came the exasperated voice.
She jumped and threw her hand over her heart as her pulse leapt in fear. Yeesh. The attitude from her phone was getting out of hand.
Reese took another left turn and said, “Someone’s following me! I need you to call the police.”
There was a long silence. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” What, like she was making it up? Call her what you want, she’d never been paranoid. She knew a lunatic when she saw one.
It was one thing for her mother to be skeptical of her outbursts, but now her damn phone was judging if she was actually in danger or not? Rude.
It was eight o’clock and any minute now Reese knew that daylight would be disappearing and night would cover the city in a shroud of creepy darkness. She would be utterly vulnerable, and annoyance was about to turn to fear if this guy persisted.
“Call the police.”
“I can’t call the police if you don’t stop and park somewhere. They’ll never find you spinning in circles.”
Okay, the attitude wasn’t helping. She would call 911 herself.
Reese slammed on her brakes at a red light and said, “Fine.” She fought the urge to tell off what wasn’t even an actual person.
Maybe it was time to change the voice on her phone to someone more like…well, her mother.
Knuckles rapped on her window.
“Aahh!” She let out an involuntary scream. It was him, the gorgeous guy, who apparently was determined as well as movie star good-looking.
“Go away!” Some people had a really hard time taking a hint.
“No, you’re in the car I was supposed to get. There’s something...”
Reese didn’t wait to hear the rest. She turned right, ignoring the no turn on red sign.
She was really starting to freak out. She’d seen a lot of strange things as a journalist, and come to think of it, even stranger things as a single woman trying to date, and every one of them was running through her mind right now.
She cut her thoughts out right there. That wasn’t going to help her get out of this situation alive and intact. This was no trickier than fending off her boss Ralph’s groping hands. The idea was to dodge and weave.
Glancing in the mirror, she saw that the green car was no longer behind her. Her foot eased on the gas, and her shoulders relaxed. Well, see. He had given up.
Much better. She requested updated directions to her hotel. She hoped like hell the paper hadn’t gone cheap on her and gotten her a crummy hotel room. She deserved a freaking feather pillow after this, at the very least.
Without warning, the green car came from nowhere and pulled out in front of her, cutting her off and forcing her to slam on the brakes.
Her car skidded as she screamed, and rode up onto the sidewalk a little.
She was reaching for her phone to call the police, someone, anyone, when the man appeared at her window again.
“Listen, I’m sorry to bother you like this. Can we just switch cars, please? I left something in the car you have.”
He sounded normal. He looked normal. But there was nothing normal about nearly running her off the road in pursuit of his forgotten wallet or whatever it was he’d left in the car.
Thoughts tumbled in Reese’s head. If she opened the door, he could push her in and abduct her.
But if she didn’t open the door, he would stand here all night, she was sure.
She could throw the car in reverse, except a produce truck had slipped into the spot behind her.
She couldn’t go forward. She could call the police, but she didn’t know where she was, and there were no street signs visible.
Telling the police you were somewhere near O’Hare outside a bookstore and a deli wasn’t going to cut it.
Maybe the produce truck driver would be her hero.
No. She could handle this. No problemo. Even if her knees were vibrating.
Trying to sound authoritative, she said, “Get back in your car and I’ll get out, okay?”
She would dash into the deli and abandon the stupid rental car.
Let him have it. Of course, her suitcase was in her trunk, along with her laptop, but she could live without her PJ bottoms and her purple toothbrush.
The paper probably had insurance for her laptop.
If they didn’t, tough toenails, this was her safety in question here.
Estimating distance, she figured it was only fifteen feet to the front door of the deli, and people were entering and exiting on a regular basis. He couldn’t murder her in a deli, she didn’t think.
“Listen, lady, it’s not what you think. I’m with the FBI.” He started to put his hand in his pocket.
With hours of cop TV under her belt, Reese said, “Freeze! Get your hand out of your pocket.”
He stopped, startled. “I’m trying to show you my badge.”
“Yeah, right, you’re an FBI agent, and I can bake a cake from scratch.” Like she’d fallen off the turnip truck yesterday.
His lip twitched.
The jerk was laughing at her. “Get back in your car!” she ordered him, fury overcoming fear.
“Okay, that’s fine.” He held up his hands as if to reassure her and went back to his car.
The minute he closed the door, she grabbed her purse, her briefcase, and her Mace, and flung open the car door. Stumbling a little as her heels hit the sidewalk, her briefcase slipped out of her hand.
Instinctively, she bent to get it and the white Tyvek envelope that had slid to the ground with it.
“Hey, that’s my envelope!”
Oh, no. His voice sounded like it was coming from outside the car. She should have known not to trust him. Reese grabbed everything and ran for the door, still half hunched over. With her free hand, she pushed open the door and tumbled in just as she sensed his presence behind her.
His voice was smooth, low. It sent shivers dancing up her spine.
“I just want the envelope in your hand. If you hand it to me, I swear I’ll walk away and you’ll never see me again. Or at least let me show you my badge.”
When she bit her lip and paused, he added, “You realize you’re interfering with official FBI business.”
She wondered if she should believe him. He looked sexy enough to be a federal agent. Way better than that wimpy paranoid Mulder.
Besides, he didn’t really look like a murderer. But who really knew what a murderer looked like?
Taking stock, Reese realized she had not recovered the Mace after dropping it outside. Clutching her purse and briefcase, she looked around the room at a total loss as to how to act.
His hand touched her elbow just as she caught the eye of the twenty-year-old clerk behind the counter. She shot the clerk a pleading look, then took a deep breath.
Her dad had taught her always to speak up for herself.
“Don’t touch me!” she yelled, her elbow slamming into her pursuer’s stomach. “Someone call the police! Help me, he’s attacking me.”
She heard a grunt, stomped on his foot for good measure with the spiky heel of her shoe, and started running towards the kitchen, wishing she hadn’t quit going to the gym after the ripped leggings incident. Shit, she was out of shape.
A middle-aged woman behind the deli counter beckoned her forward. “Come in the back while we call the police.”
Reese fought the urge to look back to see if she was still being pursued. The fear must have been obvious on her face.
“Don’t worry, there’re about three guys wrestling him to the ground right now,” the woman said, slipping a maternal arm around her.
Reese’s teeth were making a clattering sound like a baby’s rattle. She squeezed her lips shut and sank onto the hard wooden chair the woman pointed out to her in the stockroom.
“You poor thing. It’s not even safe to walk the streets anymore, for crying out loud.” The woman wiped her hands on her apron. “You just sit there and try to relax. I’ll get you some coffee, and the police should be here soon.”
Reese crossed and uncrossed her legs, waiting impatiently. It was a solid five minutes before the woman came back and the look of sympathy on her face had evaporated. There was no coffee in her hand, either.
“Did you know that man is an FBI agent?”
Reese snorted. “Don’t tell me you fell for that. Just saying you’re an FBI agent doesn’t make you one.”
The woman threw her a chastising look as she headed back towards the door. “The badge, the gun, and the police patting him on the back were enough for me.”
Reese sat up straighter. Okay, this could be bad. “You mean...he really is an FBI agent?”
“Umm-hmm.” With that and a toss of her head, she left. “I’m going to get an autograph for my grandson. He’s into law enforcement.”
Darn it. Reese jumped out of the chair and started pacing. FBI agents should know better than to pursue an innocent civilian before identifying themselves. She wasn’t a mind reader.
She conveniently ignored that he had tried to tell her and had tried to show her his badge.
If he had been less weird she wouldn’t have elbowed him in the gut.
Which technically speaking, meant she had assaulted him.
There was only one thing to do. Grabbing her briefcase and purse she headed for the back door. She was going to hail a cab and put as much distance as she could between her and the crazy man with the chocolate eyes before she found herself in the slammer instead of the Crowne Plaza.