The suitcase was full, so he grabbed what looked like her old college backpack and glanced around for the bathroom. He found it downstairs, near the front door, and began dumping in various cosmetics and toiletries. Succumbing to the inevitable, he headed for the kitchen and loaded up on dog food.

“I hope you’re planning to put all that back.” She was standing by the refrigerator, the pit bull in her arms, her rich-girl’s eyes weary.

He’d like nothing better than to put it back, but she looked too damn pathetic. “You want to take a shower first, or do we drive with the windows down?”

“Are you deaf? I’m not some rookie you can order around.”

He propped one hand on the edge of the sink and gave her the same stony look he used on those rookies. “You’ve got two choices. Either you can go with me right now, or I’m taking you over to your sister’s house. Somehow I don’t think she’ll like what she sees.”

Her expression told him he’d just thrown a Hail Mary.

“Please leave me alone,” she whispered.

“I’ll look through your bookshelves while you take a shower.”

Chapter 8

8

A smart girl never accepts a ride from a stranger, even if he is a hottie.

“Hitchhiking Hell”

—article for Chik magazine

Molly crawled with Roo into the backseat of the snappy SUV Kevin was driving instead of his Ferrari. She propped up the pillow she’d brought along and tried to go to sleep, but it wasn’t possible. As they sped east past the urban blight of Gary, then took I-94 toward Michigan City, she kept asking herself why she hadn’t opened her mail. All she’d needed to do was show up at the attorney’s office. Then she wouldn’t have been body-snatched by a mean-tempered quarterback.

Her refusal to talk to him was beginning to seem childish. Besides, her headache was better, and she wanted to know where they were going. She stroked Roo. “Do you have a destination in mind, or is this a make-it-up-as-you-go kidnapping?”

He ignored her.

They drove for another hour in silence before he pulled over for gas near Benton Harbor. While he was filling the tank, a fan spotted him and asked for an autograph. She clipped a leash on Roo and took him into the grass, then slipped into the bathroom. As she washed her hands, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. He was right. She did look like hell. She’d washed her hair, but she hadn’t done anything more than drag her fingers through it afterward. Her skin was ashen, her eyes sunken.