Читать книгу Don't Cry - Beverly Barton - Страница 2

He waited for her.

Taking her from the café parking lot was not advisable. There were too many people in the general vicinity who might suspect something and try to interfere. He had been watching her and studying her routine for days now.

As she drove into the parking area outside her second-floor apartment building, his heartbeat accelerated. Whenever he was this close to bringing her home again—home, where she belonged—the excitement became overwhelming. Just a few more minutes and she would be with him.

He remained in the dark corner of the staircase, waiting and watching patiently. His pulse raced. His heartbeat roared in his ears. His muscles tensed with anticipation.

As if sensing his presence, she paused at the top of the stairs and looked behind her. He pushed himself back against the wall and held his breath.

She hurried toward her apartment door, inserted the key in the lock, and—

He pounced immediately, threw his right arm around her neck, and covered her face with the ether-soaked rag he held in his left hand. After only a token struggle, she slumped unconscious into his arms.

He carried her down the stairs and straight to his car. After glancing around to make sure they weren’t being watched, he opened the back door and placed her on the seat.

He hurried into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and backed out.

“We’re going home…” he told her.