The audience continued to applaud, apparently believing that everything was as it should be.
And Blake was hit with a feeling so strong it almost knocked him backward. Something was wrong with Tara. Seriously wrong.
His heart in his throat, Blake dashed toward the back of the theater.
THE BEEFY HAND that covered Tara’s face was ominously familiar. And so was the rough-edged voice that growled in her ear. “Did you really think I wouldn’t know you, just because you’ve changed your hair color? As soon as I spotted your boyfriend, I knew you’d be around somewhere.”
He dragged her through the backstage shadows toward the exit. Frantically, Tara wondered where Pete was, or any of Jeremy’s other staff.
Blake!
Her captor pushed through the back door, dragging her outside and then pulling her into what might have been a formal garden behind the main house. Tara tried to resist him, fighting him every step of the way, but she was no match for his strength. He held her left arm behind her, the pain so intense that tears leaked from her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them in.
Tara wondered where Willfort’s guards were—but then she reminded herself that this man very likely worked for Willfort.
He paused close to a huge magnolia tree, where Tara was quite sure they blended into the shadows. Even her spangled costume wouldn’t be visible here, away from the security lights that dotted the estate.
She could hear the man breathing roughly, heavily in her ear—more from anger than exertion, she sensed. Her futile struggles hadn’t caused him undue effort.
“We’re going to the parking lot on the other side of the theater,” he growled. “And you are going to keep quiet, you got that?”
With his hand over her mouth, Tara couldn’t have answered if she’d wanted to. She struggled again, her protests muffled against his palm.
“Shut up,” he said, jerking at her arm again, hurting her so badly her stomach lurched. “And be still. It’s your fault you’re here—you and your P.I. boyfriend. Willfort can take the fall for his stupid insurance-fraud plan, but I’ll be damned if I’m going down with him. I need money to get out of the country. We’ll see if your boyfriend and his rich magician buddy are willing to pay to get you back.”
“Let her go, Doren.”
Tara almost sagged in relief at the sound of Blake’s voice.
The man holding her reacted quite differently. His hold on Tara tightened until she felt her head begin to spin from the pain in her arm and the lack of oxygen. “Back off. I mean it, man, I’ll snap her neck. She’ll be dead before you take two steps.”
Tara had no doubt that he could—and would—do exactly as he said.
The man Blake had called Doren had his back to the magnolia, making sure no one crept up on him from behind. His attention was focused on Blake, who, in his black T-shirt and jeans, was barely visible in the shadow of the tree.
“Don’t take another step,” Doren ordered. He shoved Tara’s twisted arm higher behind her back, making her cry out in pain. The sound was muffled by Doren’s hand, but she knew Blake heard it.
“Let her go. It won’t do you any good to take her,” Blake said, his voice low and unnaturally controlled. “The police know everything. Botkin has already identified you as the man who shot him.”
Tara’s eyes went wide above Doren’s hand. Botkin was alive? Could that possibly be true?
“I’m not going down,” Doren insisted, his gravelly voice taking on a desperate edge. “I need money. Travel arrangements. If you want your friend back, you’ll help me.”
“I can’t, Doren. It’s too late.”
“Then it’s too late for her.” Another vicious twist of Tara’s arm brought another cry of pain to her smothered lips. She heard something snap. Stars exploded in front of her eyes, and she was sure for a moment that she would pass out. She fought the weakness with every ounce of her strength.
“No! Damn it, Doren, leave her alone.”
A column of bright light suddenly shot up from the ground near Doren’s feet, like a sudden eruption of fire from the very ground they stood on. For a moment, Tara thought her pain was making her hallucinate, but Doren flinched back from the leaping flames. He and Tara were spotlighted for an instant in that weird glow, which reflected blindingly from the sequins on Tara’s costume. Doren dropped his hand from Tara’s face to shield his eyes, taking her out of immediate danger of having him snap her neck.
Trying to ignore the agonizing pain in her arm, she took advantage of the opportunity to escape. She kicked her right foot backward, her spiked heel digging into Doren’s shin. As he yelped and instinctively released his hold, Tara shoved herself away from him.
And then something whizzed past her to slam into her captor’s shoulder. Doren cursed, and staggered backward. A moment later he went down with two men on top of him—one of them a uniformed security guard, the other Blake.
Tara’s left arm fell heavily to her side, useless. She stumbled and would have fallen if someone hadn’t caught her.
“Are you all right?” Jeremy asked her, cradling her against him.