Kara took the water and glugged it down, and the blonde slid onto the sofa chair and tucked her legs up, like they were gal pals just hanging out, or what the ever-loving heck this was. Kara said, “Where are my men?”

“They’re fine. Alive, I mean. They’re alive, and they’re fine.”

“Here on the train?”

“At the motel. There might be a concussion or two, maybe some bad bruises, but other than that, they should all be okay.”

Kara capped the bottle, uncapped it, capped it, diverting brain resources, slowing down thought just enough to separate anxiety from relief.

Her guys were alive. That’s all that mattered.

But for her personally, this was bad.

Blondie, as if reading her mind, said, “This won’t come back on you. We made sure all the evidence pointed to you as hostage, not perpetrator, and left a message for them to stand by, because we’ll be in touch for more.”

Kara’s brain seized up.

Blondie said, “Crap. Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t meaning to make you beg for information. This train is headed for Chicago. We’ve still got about twenty-five hours left on the trip, and we’ll get all your questions answered soon, I promise.”

Kara’s fingers gripped the cap and worked it right, left, right, left.

Women who looked like Blondie did, and who held the type of power Blondie held, were only ever nice to her when they needed something or were setting her up for something. The word choices and empathetic tone set her on edge.

Blondie said, “It’s only fair that you know up front that I’m capable of killing you and getting your body off this train without anyone knowing you were here. I don’t want to hurt you, but can, and will if you push me. Please don’t.”

Kara twisted the cap another hard right and left.

This made no strategic sense, no tactical sense.

Blondie herself made no sense, abductor warning abductee the same way Kara would have begged Nick not to do anything stupid, if these had been their roles, and she’d have had to hurt him. The respect of equals messed with her head.

She had no frame of reference for an appropriate response, so reverted to safe and social and said, “Do you have a name?”

The blonde smiled. “You already know several. Take your pick.”

Her warmth was infectious and alluring and made it difficult to see past the words for what she’d really done, letting on that she knew what Kara knew and prompting her for more. Skills like that didn’t come without a lot of practice working over strangers and learning how to make them like you.

Kara stopped there, thoughts hovering over strangers.

What had made no sense flipped upside down.