God. Oh God. It was him. It was Vincent Moratelli.
"Come on, Joey."
He sounded civil. Polite. As if they were back at the party, where they'd met.
"Don't monopolize the lady's time. It isn't nice. Tell you what. You go sit in the back, read Penthouse or something. I'll sit here with our guest and entertain her."
"Aw, Vince. I was just havin' some fun."
"Who's in charge here, Joey? You? Or me?"
"You, but—"
"Get moving!"
Joey let out a sigh that stank of decay.
"See you later, pussycat."
"Joey," Vince said in a warning tone.
"Yeah, I'm goin'." Joey chuckled and leaned closer. "You got a knight in shinin' armor to protect you, pussycat. Ain't that nice?"
Vincent Moratelli, protecting her? Miranda stiffened as leather creaked again and he settled into the seat beside her. Moratelli had sent her that hideous picture, said those hideous things, and now he'd helped kidnap her.
But he'd stopped the other man from touching her.
Maybe it was going to be all right. They'd kidnapped her but that didn't mean they intended to hurt her. Money. That's what they wanted. That's what kidnappers always wanted, wasn't it? They'd ask Eva for ransom and she would pay it because she and Hoyt couldn't afford scandalous headlines, wasn't that what she'd told Conor?
Conor. Conor, who had deceived her. Who had never meant anything he'd said, whose kisses had been lies...
"I do want to thank you, darling, for having made things so nice and easy for us, though it was probably just serendipity. Still, it was lovely. First your boyfriend abandons you and then you come flying out the service entrance of your mother's house, just when we were trying to figure out how to go in and get you." Moratelli sighed. "Listen to me, prattling on. I haven't even asked you how you feel."
"Mmph," she said, into the gag.
"Ah. The gag's in your way. I understand." He patted her shoulder gently, like a father or an older brother. "We'll take it out soon, I promise. After we land and get settled. But first, you're going to take another nice little nap."
No, she screamed, or tried to scream, but she couldn't. There was the sudden sharp sting of a needle in her arm and then, once again, there was only darkness.
* * *
When she awakened the next time, she was sitting in a soft, deep chair and the drone of the engines had gone.
Where was she? A house? A room. It was cool; she could hear the whisper of an air conditioner and, way off in the distance, a deeper sound. Waves, maybe, beating against a shoreline.
"You awake, darling?" It was Moratelli; she could hear the rustle of cloth, feel the whisper of breath against her face and she knew he must be squatting down beside her. "Not feeling too good, huh? Well, you'll feel better soon. Take off her blindfold, Joey."
She trembled as the cloth was ripped away. She didn't want to look, didn't want to see anything. Dialogue from a hundred bad movies chased through her brain. You weren't supposed to look at your kidnappers, not if you wanted them to let you live.
But she already knew their identities. One was named Joey. And the other was a man she'd prayed to never see again.
"Open your eyes, Miranda."
Moratelli's voice was soft and surprisingly gentle.
"Come on, darling. You might as well take a look. We both know you can identify me. Besides, I think you're going to be surprised. This isn't half as bad as you've probably imagined."
There wasn't really any choice. Slowly, she opened her eyes. She saw Joey first and he was as she'd pictured him, small and dark, with a furtive look that was frightening. She thought he must have been the kind of boy who'd gotten his kicks torturing defenseless animals.