Ten minutes later she stood in the living room and gazed out of the large picture window. The steel bars taunted her as she mentally bludgeoned herself for being overly cooperative in the spare room with the additional phone lines. Less than two minutes after hanging up with Detective Cochran she'd made another phone call. One that'd deflated her hopes. She was certain a phone call to Van’s secretary would put an end to her captivity. She would provide Anthony Bear with Van’s whereabouts, and he would let her go. Then she would make good on the lie she’d told Detective Cochran. She would get into her little white car and head north. She needed to get away from here. From him.

Valerie had been with Bobbi Bowen’s from the day it opened and had been Bobbi’s assistant until the matriarch's retirement. Van had inherited the older woman who he immediately tried to replace with younger, more attractive assistants. When Bobbi caught wind of it, she’d come down hard on Van who was forced to keep Valerie. Even with Van’s rejection, Valerie was fiercely loyal but only from a business standpoint. She never crossed a line and always remained professional, but Christy felt a small alliance regarding their mutual dislike of Van. He could’ve replaced Valerie after Bobbi died, but he’d come to recognize her value and kept her. Besides, he wasn’t in the office enough to appreciate a younger secretary.

The temp who’d answered the phone informed Christy that Valerie had taken a few weeks off to visit retirement communities in California and Arizona. She wouldn’t be back for another week and didn’t leave a way for anybody to contact her. And as far as Mr. Chapman was concerned, he’d not been in for almost a week and had a list of calls to return that reached the ceiling. Christy left her pager number with the temp and asked her to pass it on to either Valerie or Van should either of them check in at the dealership.

A slight rumbling of thunder snapped Christy from her thoughts, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Rubbing her upper arms as if to ward off an invisible chill, she walked into Anthony's office and stood. Christy scanned the front yard slowly, taking special note of the dark clouds that had rolled in. She hoped they would pass. Another weird fact that she'd never mentioned to Anthony was her intense fear of storms. She couldn't remember any specific incident from her childhood, only that when she heard the first crack of lightning she'd make a beeline for her bedroom and lock herself in the closet. Her eyes landed on her car, and she remembered something. The hide-a-key. She had a key hidden beneath the front left bumper of her Rabbit.

She turned around and scanned Anthony’s office. Her bag was lying on his desk. She quickly checked inside and saw that her wallet was still in it. Reaching behind her, she realized she still had her checkbook in her back pocket. If she could distract him, she could get in her car and drive away. She would do what she told Detective Cochran. She would get on I-75 and head north. Her family would be in protective custody so she wouldn’t need to worry about them. She’d make a stop at the bank and request a large cash withdrawal. Large enough for her to get far away and live off the radar until Van dealt with his creditors.

Anthony crouched in front of the closet as he slowly wrapped the phone cords around the telephones he was returning to the safe. He reflected on the conflicting thoughts converging in his head when a knock at the door interrupted him. Before he could answer, he heard Christy yell, "I'm going to jump in the shower. I'll try and make us some grilled cheese sandwiches when I get out, but I can't promise they'll be edible or that I won't burn down your kitchen."

From his crouched position, Anthony called back, "Sounds good." He reached into his pocket and retrieved her car keys. He was going to toss them in the safe when he realized he should probably pull her car into one of his garage bays. He returned them to his jeans pocket, closed the safe and stood in front of his weight bench. Picking up a set of dumbbells he started working his arms while his mind reflected on the last twenty minutes.

Things he knew.

She'd heard him admit to X on the phone that he'd killed before and would do it again, but she successfully masked her fear when she came out of the bathroom.

She had the biggest most expressive blue eyes he'd ever seen.

She was smart. In seconds, she not only determined her own vulnerability, but predicted the detective's next course of action and quickly came up with a story that gave him an alibi and would keep the police away.

She had skin that rivaled silk. He could feel her cheek against the back of his hand as he held the telephone receiver between them.

She'd remained calm during the conversation with the detective because she was certain that when she told Anthony where to find Van, she would be able to walk away from the situation. She'd been counting on Van's secretary to disclose his whereabouts. The disappointment on her face when she was told the woman was on vacation was more than obvious. She'd looked at him with huge, soulful eyes. He couldn't miss the slight sheen of tears that had started to form.

Her bottom lip trembled when she told him that her potential lead was useless. In that single moment, he wanted to bite her bottom lip more than he wanted to find Van. To gently take it between his teeth and nibble at it.

He shook his head as if doing so would erase his thoughts and bring him back to the only reality he'd ever known. His reality and truth was the one the detective had shared with Christy. For an instant, he didn't want those stories to be true. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. And the fact that she offered to make him a sandwich told him that maybe she wasn't. Maybe she recognized something in his eyes that he didn't recognize himself.

He let out a grunt as his arms tired. Pressing on, he continued to work his biceps. Two days ago, he would've slit her throat without giving it a second thought. And somehow, in only forty-eight hours, he was now sitting here wondering what it would feel like to taste the skin near her throat.

He threw his weights down and grabbed heavier ones.

After telling Anthony she would be taking a shower, Christy headed for the bathroom. She turned on the water and locked the bathroom door before exiting it. She then stopped in the kitchen and retrieved something she'd seen when rummaging for a soup spoon a little earlier. Or had it been a week ago? Time with Anthony Bear seemed to rival his eyes. No beginning and no end. Eternal. And bottomless.

She placed something on his desk where he would be sure to find it. Hitching her bag up on her shoulder she glanced toward the long hallway. Knowing the coast was clear, she walked out the front door.

After working up a sweat, Anthony left the spare bedroom and headed for the master bathroom. He needed to take a shower. He could hear the water running in the bathroom and wondered for a split second how long he'd been using his dumbbells. He grabbed some clothes from the dresser and headed for the guest bath. He wouldn't deny Christy her long shower. Hot showers were something he enjoyed. He stood under the spray and let the warmth soak in and soothe his tired shoulders. He smiled when he thought about her offer to make him a grilled cheese sandwich.

Thoughts of her being nude in his shower invaded his mind, and he quickly turned the hot water faucet off. After a good dousing of cold water, he dried off and got dressed. He headed for the kitchen. She wasn't there. He walked back to the master bathroom and noticed her suitcase was still on his bed. He knocked on the bathroom door. No answer. He called her name. No answer. He knocked again. He yelled for her and after still not getting an answer, he jiggled the handle. It was locked. Stepping back, he kicked hard and the door flew open. He lunged in. She wasn't there.

Anthony Bear never panicked, but there was no denying that he was feeling an unsettling in his soul. He reached in his back pocket. The Volkswagen keys he'd removed from his jeans and transferred to the clean pair were still there, as were his truck keys. She couldn't have left, she had to be in the house. After searching the obvious places, he made a mad dash for the front door. He flung it open and stood there staring at the empty spot where her Rabbit had been parked. He charged toward his truck and after rounding the front of it he noticed the ice pick plunged there that was slowly deflating the front tire. A picture of himself with an ice pick protruding from his heart floated through his mind as he headed for his office. Was it the ice pick she could've stabbed him with in his sleep or the ice pick that pierced his heart at the thought of her falling in to the wrong hands? He could get on his bike or take his other car, but he had a more urgent matter. He needed to let X know the hunt for Christy Chapman was now a real one and it was imperative that his men find her before someone else did. Because he realized that his soul wasn't feeling unsettled knowing that she was gone. It was feeling empty.

He approached the phone on his desk and thought about Christy and all the emotions she'd managed to stir inside of him. Emotions he didn't know existed until she drove up to the Chapman mansion in her borrowed Corvette. Sure, he'd understood feelings like hate, greed, and bias. Even indifference. He never once cared what anybody thought about him. But the thought that Christy feared him enough to risk driving away brought an ache to his chest that he'd not felt since the day he decided to run away from his uncle's home so many years ago. Earlier today, he tried to avoid the thought that she'd gotten under his skin. It was only hours later and he was already admitting that she was taking up space in his heart, too.

He reached for the phone and noticed what was propped up against it. A blank check made out to Anthony Bear and signed by Christy Chapman.

Suddenly, it dawned on him that no amount of money could pay for what he really wanted.

And what he really wanted was Christy Chapman.

He spun around and gazed out his office window. "Why’d you run, Princess? Where are you going?"