Patrick stared back at him. Didn’t speak.
The guy gave a grim nod and turned away. Patr
ick waited until the fellow reached for the door.
“She’ll still be alive in three hours,” Patrick mused. “At least, I think she will. Guess it depends on how long she can stand the cold out there, all alone.”
The man glanced back at him. Patrick knew the guy was trying to judge him. To see if he was telling the truth or if he was just spinning a new lie.
“I got tired of Lawrence Duncan sending me out to do his work. I was tired of killing for him,” he waited a beat, then added slyly, “and for her.”
“Her?” The guy’s brows climbed.
Patrick gave a slow nod. “They were working together. Always were. She would slip in and get the intel he needed. People talk so much easier to a pretty face, and Paula sure has a pretty face.” He whistled, remembering the other features he enjoyed about her. “But I figured, if I’m done with Duncan, then I’m done with her, too.”
“You’re trying to say you’ve abducted—”
“The senator’s aide, Paula Quill.” His fingers curled around the bars. “And if you want her to keep living, you’ll get me out of here!”
Chapter Eleven
He wasn’t going to let her go. Thomas lifted his head and stared down into Noelle’s unforgettable eyes as he tried to find the right words to tell her. No one had ever meant as much to him as she did, and the last thing he wanted to do was mess up anything with her.
He’d already botched things enough already. He had to use care.
And not bulldoze his way ahead.
He withdrew from her body, hating the separation because the woman felt like heaven. If he had his way, he’d stay curled with her for hours. Days.
But...
Duty waited.
So did the plane.
Before they boarded and left Alaska, he needed to clear the air between them.
But his phone was ringing. Thomas frowned as the buzzing reached him. The sound was coming from downstairs because he’d left it down there earlier. When Noelle had kissed him, answering it had been the last thing on his mind.
Noelle blinked, obviously hearing the sound, too. “Ah, are you expecting someone?”
No, Mercer had said they were clear until takeoff. He brushed his hand over the silken length of her arm. “I’ll be right back. Don’t...don’t move, okay? We need to talk.” As soon as he could figure out how to say the right words.
She gave a slow nod.
Thomas yanked on his jogging pants and hurried downstairs. The caller wasn’t giving up; that was for sure. Thomas grabbed the phone, then tensed when he saw the number on the screen. He lifted the phone to his ear. “Anthony.”
“Do you know where Paula Quill is right now?” Aaron demanded.
Thomas glanced toward the stairs. “The senator’s aide? She’s been staying at his house in Camden, so check for her there.”
“We did. We’ve called and sent a deputy over to that place, but the staff there say that they haven’t seen her since before the big storm swept in.”
“So she went out to visit friends before the bad weather hit.” His eyes were still on the stairs. He didn’t hear any sound from overhead. “Get the woman’s cell number and—”
“We’ve called her cell.” Tension deepened Aaron’s voice. “There’s no answer.”
Thomas hesitated. “Why are her whereabouts so important to you?”