He disconnected the phone with a decisive click. Irritation made him sweat. The damp beads pooled along his cropped hairline. It was already hot enough outside. He didn’t need this added aggravation to sully his appearance. There was a certain look he expected of himself. Sweating was beneath him. He paid people to sweat for him.

Juan Carlos dabbed his brow again. There was work to do. Fresh inventory arrived earlier. Young women to inspect prior to their auction. Easy, untraceable money.

Winters rolled his head left to right, cracking his neck, and directed his attention to the woman behind him. “I’m Colby Winters. Most people call me Winters.”

He sounded flat and bearish when he wanted to be trustworthy. Trying to make her talk while balancing his irritation made this job more complicated by the mile.

The woman didn’t acknowledge him. Again, he glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She wrinkled her nose at him, which was an improvement over the kicking and shouting.

“And you are?” His temples throbbed. Parker could easily pull her identity from any number of security cameras, but he wanted her to open up. Who knew why?

“None of your business. I don’t introduce myself to my kidnappers.” She gave him the snake-eyes, pursing her lips to complete her pissed off quip.

“Should have expected that.” He gave her a once-over, taking in her swollen lip and puffy cheek, and wanted to bend steel. “Those guys roughed you up?”

“What does it matter? I’m not saying anything to you either. So you’ll just do the same.”

“Aren’t you a tough one?” Intrigued, he gave a half-cocked smile. She was stronger than he gave her credit for. Must’ve been that deceptive sweater set she wore. The pastel colors lessened her bite.

As best he could from the driver’s seat, he studied her face and the slope of her neck to her collarbone. His backseat passenger was, by all standards, attractive. A little vanilla. Like a teacher or librarian, if he ignored the mussed makeup and hair.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He swallowed his gruffness. “Let’s try this again. My name is Colby Winters. You can call me Winters. And you are?”

No response.

“Tell me your name, and I’ll share a little about me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Mia.”

Their gazes clashed, and his chest warmed. Winters chewed the inside of his cheek before he turned the AC on high.

“Nice to meet you, Mia. We’ve made some progress here, haven’t we? Let’s jump to it, doll. Why were you at the airport?”

She shifted in her seat. “I had things to do.”

Evasive. Not scripted, but not careless enough to give him any details. “Who do you work for?”

“No one.”

“How did you know where that package was? That was mine.”

“Yours?” Her chin jutted up. “I don’t think so.”

Finally, a reaction. She was resolute. Strong. Strident. Even angry. She glared at him in the mirror.

“Well, it sure as shit isn’t yours.”