Burn

Syd heaved a little sigh. She herself didn’t have any balls – at all, not even peanut-size ones. Maybe one day.

The limo arrived at Caro’s right on time to pick her up. While the driver, whose brushed gold name tag said he was "Adam," loaded her vast amount of luggage into the trunk, Sydney gave Caro a long, heartfelt hug, they made many promises that they’d get together again and wouldn’t wait so long next time, then Syd bounced down the steps to the limo. She cast a quick, anxious look at the driver. She did have an enormous amount of luggage, and she wanted to apologize, to explain that she’d packed to be away from home for two weeks and there were all these social events on board the ship and – She bit back both the apology and the explanation. First, to his credit, Adam wasn’t scowling or looking impatient or anything. Second, he was a tall, good-looking, well-built man, and that type always made her excruciatingly aware of her own shortcomings, one of which was the urge to apologize for everything.

She settled into the seat and placed her bag next to her, thinking that when she signed the credit card receipt for the limo she’d add to the tip that had already been figured into the cost. Anyone who handled that amount of luggage without complaint deserved an extra tip.

As the limo pulled away from the curb Sydney stared out the window at the sun-drenched hills, and the blue of the Pacific off to her right. It was another beautiful day; every day she’d been here had been perfect. The prospect of another fourteen days of beautiful weather loomed in front of her, making her smile.

She checked her watch, a diamond-studded Cartier her father had given her on her eighteenth birthday. She was going to be one of the first passengers on the ship, but if Jenner’s plane was on time and her limo made good time through the traffic, it was possible she’d arrive at about the same time. Syd was relieved that she wasn’t going to be late this time. She knew she had a terrible habit of not being on time, and she really tried not to be late, but like almost everything else, time seemed to be beyond her control. She never intended to be late, just the opposite, but … She’d try to do better, especially while they were on the cruise.

She didn’t pay much attention to the landscape as Adam drove at a leisurely pace through the upscale neighborhood that surrounded the gated community where Caro lived. It wasn’t as if she knew her way around San Diego anyway, so the landmarks meant nothing to her. Instead, she let her mind wander as she thought about the days ahead, the sunbathing on their private balcony, the wonderful food she really shouldn’t eat but would enjoy immensely because everyone knew cruise calories didn’t count. Maybe she’d even drink a little too much now and then, and dance with a handsome Latin ballroom instructor. Uh-huh. Sure. She wasn’t known for her ability to cut loose. So she wouldn’t drink too much – she never had – and as she already knew how to ballroom dance, she probably wouldn’t dance with an instructor, either. But she and Jenner would relax, enjoy themselves, maybe flirt a little even if it was only with someone who was safely in his seventies, and have a real vacation.

With a slight jerk, the limo halted at a stop sign, and the door locks clicked. Confused, Sydney glanced at the driver, because all his other stops had been smooth as silk, and why were the door locks just now engaging? Usually they automatically clicked down as soon as the car was put in gear.

The passenger door across from her opened and a dark-haired women slid into the seat, then closed the door with a firm bang. Sydney gaped at her, too startled to do more than make a few incoherent noises. The car started forward again, and once more the door locks clicked. Confused, she realized the first click had been when they unlocked, which meant he’d put the gear in Park.

"Adam – " she began, alarm pushing aside her startled confusion as the car picked up speed. She scooted to the edge of the seat, gripping the door handle as she reached forward to tap on the partition separating them. Surely he realized they’d picked up an unwanted passenger. He should be pulling to the curb, turning around and telling the woman –

"Just sit still, Ms. Hazlett," the woman said in a calm tone. She took her hand out of the pocket of her tracksuit to reveal an ugly black gun. "If you do exactly as we tell you, you won’t be hurt."

We.

The driver was in on it. He’d deliberately stopped so the locks would disengage and the woman could get in. Everything had been prearranged; he’d known she would be there.

For a long, dizzying moment, Sydney held her breath. She clutched her purse because it was literally all she had to hold on to. Kidnapping was always a possibility when someone had money and her father had a lot of money but security in their circles was mostly limited to home security. She knew a few people who employed personal security guards, but very few, because for the most part people just lived their lives as normally as possible. So far as she knew, her father had never had a kidnapping threat. And yet, here she was in a locked car with two strangers, one of whom was holding a gun on her.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. She told herself that over and over. If she panicked, she would lose control and start crying and screaming, and somehow it seemed important not to do that. All she could think was how upset her father would be if she were killed, so she shouldn’t do anything that would force these people to shoot her.

Everything would work out. They would ask for a ransom, her father would pay it, and they would let her go. This would all be over in no time.

She’d seen their faces. Wasn’t that a bad sign? Hadn’t she read somewhere that kidnappers who intended to let their victims go after they got the money always concealed their faces, so they couldn’t be identified? If a kidnapper made no attempt to conceal his – or her – identity, they usually didn’t intend to let the victim live.