Read Maggie's Man for Free Online

exactly
superwoman material, she didn't want to do anything that might hurt other
people. "I … I can't," she said at last.
    He arched a single brow and she continued in a
frantic rush. "To…to…to get the map I'd … have to take my hands off the
wheel." Aha! "And then you might do something rash and that would be
bad."
    Her captor looked at her levelly. "What do
you weigh? One hundred, one hundred and five pounds?" Her lips thinned,
then finally she nodded. "I bench-press twice your weight, Maggie. Do you
really think you can stop me from controlling the wheel?"
    No, no, she didn't, and they both know it. Her
face fell, her shoulders hunching. She was a lousy excuse for a heroine.
    She felt his gaze on her face. For one moment,
it almost seemed to relent. "You do try," he said abruptly, his tone
indecipherable. "I'll give you points for that. Now plot out an escape route,
Maggie. We have to get off these main drags. There's no place to go here, and
there are too many cars. We need some good, twisty side streets, something
small and unknown." He was back to staring at the cop. "And Maggie,
get the damn seat belt on."
    "Sure," she whispered, giving in and
retrieving the map. "Heaven forbid I should get killed in a high-speed car
chase. Then who would you have to shoot?"
    His lips curved. For a moment, she was startled
to see that his green eyes held a glint of humor. "Very good. Ever think
of becoming a hostage professionally?"
    "They're going to catch you," she
retorted with a small spark of rebellion. "And when they do, I'm going to
dance on your prison cell."
    She fastened her seat belt with as much dignity
as possible and opened the map. Then she stared once more at the cop in the
side mirror. Why wasn't the police car doing anything? Did she forget to send
out engraved invitations to rescue her? They were almost on top of the I-5
exit, where a large percentage of the traffic would turn off. Was that what the
police were waiting for?
    "The map, Maggie."
    "Oh, hold your horses! Shoot! Get into the
right lane. Now, now!"
    "I can't evade the damn police by getting
in a car accident. Damn. Get over here, I need two hands."
    He'd put on the blinker and was looking
frantically over his shoulders. She could see the lines creasing the corners of
his eyes and the thin set of his lips. He looked desperate and, for a moment,
almost afraid. If she hadn't been his hostage, she might have felt sorry for
him. Clearly, he was a man grasping at straws.
    But he was also an armed, escaped murderer,
something that was a little hard to overlook.
    "Maggie, now!"
    She fumbled with her seat belt, sliding over
awkwardly so he could place his right hand on the wheel and swing the huge
truck over to the next lane. The fit was so tight she squeezed her eyes shut
and hunched her shoulders down, waiting for the crunch of metal. But the car in
back, a nice polite driver, had put on his brakes so the murderer could switch
lanes.
    "Now, Mr. Cop," she muttered.
"There's no time like the present!"
    But even as she watched, the cop car drove
right on by them, signaled a left turn and disappeared down the side street
leading to I-5.
    "No," she whispered. "No, no,
no."
    "Don't take it so badly," Cain told
her. "At least no innocent people are at risk."
    "Except for me!" she cried, and then
because she was too disappointed to care, she walloped his shoulder with her
free hand. It was like hitting concrete. She popped three of her knuckles and
he didn't even grunt. His green eyes looked at her steadily, hooded and
unreadable beneath the black brim of the OSU baseball cap. For a moment, he
seemed strangely sympathetic.
    "Sucks to be you, doesn't it?" he
said quietly.
    "Yes!" she agreed fiercely and picked
up the map again, having to blink away the tears in her eyes.
    He looked at her a minute longer, then turned
away.
    Front Avenue turned into Barbur Boulevard, four lanes of curving road winding
around strip malls and way too many traffic lights. Portland was