Anne was safe, and that’s what really mattered.
The gunman needed a shave and a haircut. Everything about him screamed bachelor, from his wrinkled shirt to his bad-boy leather jacket to his overworn boots. Still, there was something about him that intrigued her. Maybe that’s what Anne felt that made her think she’d dreamed about him.
He was definitely dreamy in a your-mama-warned-you kind of way. Six-feet-and-change worth of walking trouble.
His eyes cracked open and he sucked in a hissing breath.
“Does your head hurt?” she asked him.
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
He struggled to sit up, but with his hands trapped behind him, he had no leverage.
“I wouldn’t bother,” said Jordan. “You’re tied up way too tight to move.”
“Guess so.”
“Who are you?”
“Doesn’t matter,” said the man.
“If it doesn’t matter, then tell me your name.”
“Ryder Ward.”
“Want to tell me why you’re here?” she asked.
“Not particularly. What time is it?”
“Why? Got somewhere to be?”
“Anywhere but here if it’s nightfall.”
Jordan looked outside at the falling snow. She couldn’t tell if the streetlights were on or not, but there was enough of a glow outside to know it wasn’t full dark. “Not quite.”
“We don’t have much time, lady,” he said.
“The name’s Jordan, not lady, and we have all the time in the world until the police show up. Just sit tight and I won’t have to knock you out again.”
He looked up at her, his dark eyes haunted by something she could only imagine. “I know what this looks like, but I swear to you I never wanted to hurt you. Either of you.”
“You have a funny way of showing it. Pointing a gun at someone usually indicates an intention to harm them.”
He sighed. Incredibly, his body twisted and he managed to sit up. Sweat had broken out along his hairline at the effort, but it was more than she’d thought he could manage.
Maybe she hadn’t tied him up tight enough.
“Your daughter. She’s special.”
Anger spiked through her veins, making her voice come out in a growl. “Never speak of her again, or I’ll be mopping what’s left of you off my floor for a week.”
He simply lifted an eyebrow at her threat, ignoring it. “She has bad dreams. Nightmares.”
Jordan hid her surprise that he knew about the dreams. “All kids do.”
“Not like this. Hers are getting more frequent. She sees huge, writhing creatures that want to eat her. She thinks they’re real.”