He stiffened. Quite literally.
She gasped. Hotly. A sloe-eyed glance peeked at him through partially lowered lashes. The corner of her mouth lifted. “Not exactly the right time, wouldn’t you say?”
“I can’t help myself around you.” The honest truth.
“Ditto,” was her reply. Not the most sexy or romantic word and yet he hardened quite a bit more.
“Still not the right time or place,” she chided.
“If you’d move away, it would be easier to control.” Not something he’d ever had an issue with before. Just one more difference when it came to Charlotte.
“But not half as much fun.” She blew hotly on him, and his head angled back as he resisted the temptation to ravish her.
“Killing me here, Peanut.”
“Pull yourself together, Roarie.”
He groaned. The nickname reminding him of his aunts. It acted like a cold shower. “Way to ruin it.” He reached for the fan blades and halted their slow progression. There was a pair of tiny screws holding the casing in place. The scent belonged to someone he’d never met, and yet there was a hint of familiarity to it, making it almost certainly Peanut’s brother.
He looked around for something to remove the screws. Even a butter knife would work. Then it occurred to him he didn’t have time to be gentle.
Grabbing the blades, he snapped them off first, and then he managed a good grip on the metal shell that went around the ceiling fan. He gave a few wrenches and popped the screws free as the metal holes twisted.
The moment it came off down dropped a little pouch.
Charlotte reached for it and poured the contents into her hand. She frowned. “It’s a key.”
Problem was, they didn’t have a lock.
Chapter Sixteen
What did the key open? The question that plagued her as Lawrence dressed. She rolled it over and over in her head as they left the apartment. She certainly didn’t have the slightest clue; however, she’d wager the person who’d left the message might. Did she have what they were looking for?
If she did, only one thing to do.
As they entered the stairwell, she said, “I am going to give them the key in exchange for Peter.” Why not? It wasn’t as if she cared what it unlocked.
She expected Lawrence to argue with her. To tell her it was too dangerous. She’d say she didn’t have a choice, whereupon he’d offer to take her place. She’d give a token protest and then accept.
Only he didn’t behave as expected. Rather than pull a sexy overprotective male bit, he wanted her to actually go through with the exchange. “Excellent plan.”
“Is it, though?” She began to argue against as they headed down the three flights of stairs to the main level. “How can I make an exchange when I don’t know where to meet them?”
“We have to wait for their next move,” was Lawrence’s observation.
“What if I don’t want to wait?” she grumbled.
“Don’t worry, Peanut. I doubt it will be long.” He held open the door to the sidewalk.
It wasn’t until the two men wearing leather jackets and shades stepped out of the alley by the apartment that she understood.
“We’re being ambushed.” She glared at him. “You knew.”
“Not exactly. I just recognized the scent in the alley as being the same one upstairs. Follow my lead,” Lawrence ordered, “and stick close.”
She might have argued but for the guns.
“Halt!” one of the armed thugs commanded.
“You find?” asked the other in a heavy accent.
Lawrence crossed his arms. “Before we begin this negotiation, where’s her brother?”
“Give.” The hand shoved in Lawrence’s direction flexed impatiently.
As if they’d hand over their only leverage.
She peeked around his bulk. “You want it, then you bring Peter.”
The man had a gap between his teeth, wide enough to shove food through, when he smiled. “Take.” His gun waggled in demand.
“I don’t think so.” Lawrence moved quickly. His hands flinging in opposite directions, but with one purpose, grabbing the thugs and slamming them together. They groaned and clutched at their heads. Lawrence frisked the smallest one and tossed a set of keys at her. “Find their car.”
“Why? Are you going to steal it?” she asked as she clutched the keys and caused some lights to flash.
“Borrow.”
“Should I start it?”
“Yes, but first see if you can pop the trunk.”
She peered at the fob and jabbed the tiny image. A moment later the assailants were tucked away, thumping and banging.
“Can’t they pop a lever to get out?” she asked, having seen a safety video on it in college.
“I bent it.”
“Oh.” She glanced at the trunk. “Now what? Didn’t we need them to lead us to Peter?”
“Doubtful. This vehicle has GPS.”
“And you think they have their lair as their home button?” She snorted. “They can’t be that dumb.” She slid into the passenger seat.
He fiddled at the navigation system until it switched from Russian to English. It changed the menu buttons to something they could read. “Let’s find out.” Scrolling the recent addresses, he tapped them and, using a reverse search on his phone, ruled a few out right off the top. “Restaurant. Business. Another business. Apartment building. Which makes it doubtful as a place they’d be holding someone hostage. This though”—he tapped an address—“is a house just outside of the city. Let’s check it out.”
As they drove, she got nervous. “Maybe we should call the police now.”
“That’s a bad idea. If they show up and bungle things, your brother could get hurt in the crossfire.”
She gnawed her lower lip. “Do you think if we show up with the key, they’ll actually trade Peter for it?”
“Yes.”
She sighed in relief.
“And then once they have it, they’ll most likely kill you both.”
“What!”
He turned a scoffing snort her way. “You don’t seriously think they’d let you walk away knowing what you do.”
“What happened to honor among thieves?” she grumbled.
“It doesn’t exist as much as you’d think. Don’t worry, Peanut. I have a plan.”
“Where we don’t die?” Because she was really, really wishing she’d thought longer and harder about this.
“Have you forgotten what I am?”
“No, but how is being a giant feline helpful? Going to dazzle them with your mousing skills? Create a cat’s cradle with some yarn?”
“You are about to find out, Peanut.”
The GPS took them to a neighborhood that was a sprawling mess of streets that meandered around executive properties. About three miles from their destination, he stopped the car.
“What are you doing?”
“Your turn to drive.”
“Me?” That would require unknotting her worried hands from her lap.
“Yes, you. You need to drive the rest of the way.”