The Ultimate Single Dads Romance Bundle

I was taking his infant daughter home from a mother-and-me event.

We were buckled in and leaving, when a man opened the back door and pressed something cold against my ribs.

I froze.

Every muscle in my body locked up as my brain tried to make sense of what was happening.

He pressed it harder into my ribs.

“Get in the front and drive.”

My eyes dropped to Sophie.

She was sitting in her car seat, completely oblivious to the fact that the man behind her had a weapon.

Her tiny fingers were curled into fists, her cheeks pink from the warmth of the car, and there was a smear of drool beneath her bottom lip.

She had no idea.

Thank God she had no idea.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“NOW!”

I flinched, and Sophie startled at the sound of his voice.

Her little face crumpled, then she started to cry.

My heart nearly stopped.

“Shh, sweetheart.” I reached back, touching her cheek with trembling fingers. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The weapon nudged my hand away from her.

“DRIVE.”

I nodded, climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door.

My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the keys.

Think.

That was what my father had always told me.

When something went wrong, you didn't panic. You didn't waste time asking why. You assessed the situation and figured out what came next.

Unfortunately, my father had never mentioned what to do when the something that went wrong involved a psychopath sitting behind you and baby in the back seat.

I started the engine.

My first instinct was to hit the gas and ram into the nearest car.

But Sophie was behind me.

I couldn't.

I couldn't risk her life just to save mine.

So I pulled out of the parking stall, my eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.

The man was watching me.

He was holding the weapon low now, but it was still aimed in the general direction of Sophie.

My stomach twisted.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Just drive.”

Helpful.

I pulled onto the road, forcing myself to breathe.

In through my nose. Out through my mouth.

The tactical breathing my father had taught me when I was a kid and prone to panic attacks.

It wasn't working particularly well.

My heart was still hammering hard enough to crack my ribs.

Sophie cried harder.

I glanced at her in the mirror.

“She's hungry.”

“I don't give a shit.”

“She'll keep crying.”

“Then let her cry.”

I swallowed.

“She's a baby. She doesn't understand what's happening.”

Neither did I.

Not really.

I knew I was being carjacked. I knew he had a weapon. I knew the man wanted me to drive somewhere.

What I didn't know was whether he intended to let us go.

Or whether he planned to kill us when we got there.

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. I needed to get a message to Aaron.

Somehow.

I reached for my phone and pretended to adjust the radio.

The screen lit up in my hand.

I opened Aaron's name.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Carjacked. Help.

Two words.

That was all I could manage before the man leaned forward.

“What are you doing?”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“Radio.”

He stared at me for several seconds.

Then he settled back.

I hit send.

The message disappeared from the screen.

I shoved the phone into the cupholder and prayed he hadn't seen it.

Five seconds later, it rang.

Aaron.

Of course it f**king rang.

The man's head snapped toward the phone.

“Who is that?”

“My husband.”

I stared at the phone.

If I didn't answer, Aaron would know something was wrong.

If I did answer, the man might realize I'd told him exactly where we were.

My mind raced.

“Fine. Answer it.”

Then I picked up.

“Hi, honey.”

The word felt ridiculous coming out of my mouth.

Aaron's voice came through the speaker.

“Not too bad, baby. Where are you?”

I glanced into the mirror.

The weapon was still there.

I needed to tell Aaron where I was without actually telling him where I was.

“Traffic is awful,” I said, forcing a little laugh. “I'm just trying to get home.”

The man watched me.

I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head.

Aaron kept talking.

I listened for every word, trying to keep my voice normal while Sophie whimpered behind me.

“What's that noise?”

“Sophie.”

I looked at her in the mirror.

She was rubbing her eyes with both fists, her face red from crying.

“She finally cried herself to sleep,” I said.

The man shifted.

I knew I needed to give Aaron something.

Anything.

“She didn't fall asleep until we were heading from Bellevue to Kirkland.”

There.

I hoped like hell he'd understand.

The man suddenly leaned forward and grabbed my phone.

“What the hell did you just tell him?”

I jerked the steering wheel instinctively.

The Corolla swerved into the next lane.

A horn blared.

“Keep the f**king car straight!”

He shoved the phone back toward me and I caught it before it fell.

“Sorry.”

My voice shook.

He stared at me in the mirror.

“You told him where we are.”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

“I told him where we'd been.”

He narrowed his eyes.

I forced myself to shrug.

“I don't know what you want me to say. He's my husband. If I suddenly stop talking to him, he's going to know something's wrong.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Sophie started crying again and the sound seemed to fill the entire car.

The man cursed.

I looked at her through the mirror.

“She's scared.”

“Shut her up.”

“She'll calm down.”

“She better.”

I reached one hand behind me, keeping my eyes on the road, and touched her little foot.

“It's okay, baby.”

Her cries softened to hiccups.

I nearly sagged with relief.

Then I noticed something.

The fuel gauge.

The needle was sitting dangerously close to empty.

Shit.

I hadn't filled the tank yesterday like I'd planned.

Of course I hadn't.

Why would I ever do something responsible when I could spend the afternoon arguing with myself about whether I actually needed to buy another pair of shoes?

I swallowed.

“I need gas.”

“No.”

I looked at him in the mirror.

“What?”

“No stopping.”

“If I don't stop, we're going to run out.”

“Keep driving.”

I almost laughed.

Not because anything was funny.

Because apparently this was my life now.

I was arguing with an armed carjacker about basic vehicle maintenance while his infant cried in the back seat.

“I can't make the car run without gas.”

His jaw tightened.

“Keep driving.”

“I am driving.”

I pointed toward the dashboard.

“I'm telling you that we have maybe fifteen minutes before we're sitting on the side of the road.”

He glanced at the fuel gauge.

His expression changed.

Just slightly.

But I saw it.

Unease.

Good.

That meant he needed this car, too.

Which meant I had something.

Leverage.

Not much. But something.

“Look,” I said, keeping my voice calm, “I'm going to have to stop for gas. There isn't much I can do but do as you say. So if you tell me not to talk to anybody, I won't.”

I paused.

“But one way or another, I need to stop for gas.”

He stared at me, then I stared back through the mirror.

Neither of us moved.

Finally, he looked away.

“Fine.”

My lungs loosened.

“But you get the gas. You get back in the car. No talking to anybody.”

“Got it.”

I shifted into the right lane.

The Shell station was coming up ahead.

I knew that station.

I'd stopped there once or twice on the way to my family's lake cabin, and it was busy.

Cars coming and going.

People walking into the convenience store.

A highway patrol vehicle was parked near one of the pumps.

My pulse kicked up.

Police.

Help was twenty feet away.

Maybe less.

I could pull in beside that patrol car.

I could open my door.

I could scream.

But then the weapon would come up.

And Sophie would be sitting right behind me.

I glanced in the mirror.

The man had it pointed toward her again.

My stomach dropped.

No.

Not yet.

I couldn't risk it.

I pulled into the station.

Rain hammered against the windshield, blurring the lights from the pumps into long streaks of red and white.

The man shifted in the back seat.

“If you pull any funny business, I swear to God you'll regret it.”

My eyes met his in the mirror. He meant it.

I knew it.

“Got it.”

I put the car in park and for one brief second, I looked at Sophie.

Her eyes were closed.

She was exhausted.

Completely trusting that I was going to keep her safe.

A tear slid down my cheek.

“Please don't hurt her.”

The man's expression didn't change.

“Get the damn gas.”

I opened the door and rain poured into the car.

I stepped onto the pavement.

And then I saw the highway patrol officer standing only a few yards away.

Our eyes met.

For one second, I thought about screaming.

Then the man behind me lifted the gun.

I knew because I saw his reflection in the window.

It was was pointed directly at Sophie.

I grabbed the gas nozzle.

And walked toward the pump.

Five minutes later, headlights cut through the rain.

A truck screamed to a stop beside our car.

I didn't even have time to wonder who it was.

The back door ripped open.

I turned to see Sophie's father.

As he grabbed the man by the collar.

And dragged him out onto the street...