Burned Deep (Burned 1)

She left and I quickly snatched the small card from the florist’s stationery. The flowers were from Dane, and he’d obviously ordered them online, because he couldn’t write out the card himself. Instead, it was a computer-printed one that read:

Ari,

Again, I’m so sorry about what’s happened. I’m fixing it, I promise. Meet me out front at five. Dane

I was more than happy to slip off with him at the end of the day. And I hoped he was in a better frame of mind, with whatever current plan of attack he had underway. Which I wanted to know about, yet … I didn’t.

I went back to my collage of decoration images, prepping it so I could display it for Dane this evening. Kyle joined me and we both immersed ourselves in our respective projects. Close to five, I packed everything up. Kyle went downstairs with me, since he was done for the day as well.

The tall doors were opened by the valet taking over Brandon’s shift. I hadn’t met him yet.

“Ari DeMille, Events Director,” I said. “This is Kyle Jenns.”

“Wayne Horton,” he introduced himself as we all shook. “I’ll bring your cars around.”

“Actually, I’ve got a meeting with Mr. Bax.” Dane’s Venom F5 sat in the circular drive. I turned to Kyle. “Thanks for babysitting me.”

“Not a problem. Be careful.”

“Of course.”

Wayne escorted me over to the flashy sports car.

Staring up at him, I asked, “Are you new?”

“No, I’ve been working with various departments the past few months—IT, Facilities, Distribution Services, Grounds crew—whatever they need me to do. I’m sort of a jack-of-all-trades.”

“That sounds handy for the hotel.”

“Seems to be working out.” His smile held a hint of mischief that perplexed me. He pulled open the door and I slipped inside, setting my bag on the floorboard between my legs. I glanced back at him, trying to read his expression. He added, “Have a nice evening, Miss DeMille.”

“Ari is fine.”

“Very good.” He closed the door and engaged Kyle in conversation. I reached for the seat belt, an uneasy feeling seeping through me. The car peeled away, rounded the center fountain, and raced down the winding road.

I turned toward the driver’s seat while saying, “No need to show off for—oh, my God!”

My heart leapt into my throat. It took several seconds for my brain to overcome shock and catch up.

“You’re not Dane!”

chapter 23

The dark-haired man flashed me a sinister grin and said, “No, I am not.”

He had an accent with which I wasn’t familiar and he wore sunglasses. With just a quick glimpse he could have passed for Dane.

“Who are you?” I demanded as I reached for the latch on my belt and unhooked it.

“Vale Hilliard. And don’t think you’re going anywhere, Miss DeMille.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” I searched the door panel, mumbling in a panicked voice, “Where the hell is the lock?” Prepared to throw myself out of the speeding vehicle and onto the stone drive, I was that desperate to escape.

“Sit still and buckle up—it is the law, after all.”

I shot him what I’d hoped was a menacing glare, though I knew it turned into one of terror when I saw he had a gun in his lap. And it was pointed at me.

“Shit.” My pulse beat erratically. My eyes flashed to the dashboard, noting a different stereo and other options. “This isn’t even Dane’s car.”