And me?I was Willow's nanny – not because it was my final career choice, but because teaching jobs had been thin on the ground, especially for recent college grads with more heart than experience.
As far as the nanny job, it wasn'tallbad.Willow was terrific.But her brother, the billionaire who signed my checks?He was something else entirely.
And thatwasn'ta compliment.
Still, I knew one thing for certain. Mason would've braved a hundred slick roads – and whole lot more – to save his little sister.
But me? I was expendable.I knew this, just like I knew that Mason was the most impossible person I'd ever met. Rude, abrasive, and cold as ice – except when it came to his own family.
Iwasn't family. Ask Mason.He'lltell you.
Repeatedly.
In the SUV, the female looked to me and said, "Can't you just call him? Tell him Willow's not here?"
"Suuuuure," I said. "Just turn back and retrieve my purse." I gave her a sarcastic smile. "You know, the one you tossed out the window?"
From the driver's seat, the guy said, "We're not goin' back for nothin'."
I made a sound of frustration. "Well, you can't drive forever. Eventually, you'll run out of gas."Assuming we didn't slide into a ditch long before that.
He gave the rear-view mirror another glance. "Yeah, well maybehe'llrun out first."
"Ormaybe," I said, "he'll catch up with us and beat you senseless for kidnapping his little sister."
This wasn't as far-fetched as you'd think. Mason was six-foot-two and packed with hard muscle. He looked amazing in a suit –andin jeans, too.
He was no pampered pussy cat.He hadn't always been rich. His tool company, Blast Tools, had been founded with grit and determination, along with a firsthand knowledge of his products.
The guy could swing a hammer with the best of them –andlooked very good doing it, as millions of cable TV viewers already knew.
The driver shot back, "But his sister's not even here."
"I know," I said through clenched teeth. "But Mason doesn't know that, does he?"
The guy glanced toward his female companion and said, "Why'd you throw out her purse for?"
It wasn't the purse that was the issue. It was everything inside the purse – my wallet, my phone, and my little cannister of pepper spray, which would've come in extra-handy right about now.
"Don't blameme!" the female yelled back. "It wasyouridea!"
The guy made a sound of disgust. "Since when do you listen to me?"
As they bickered back and forth, I whirled in my seat to study the road behind us. Snow was falling so hard, I could hardly see anything. Even Mason's black sedan – it was a gray, hazy blur amidst the swirling snow.
As far as the road itself, we were on a long country stretch, with very few houses and no other vehicles in sight.
And why?It was because only an idiot would be out in these conditions.
Correction.Fouridiots. Me, the two masked wonders, and the guy who was hot on our heels.
Through the rear window, I was still eyeing the fuzzy outline of Mason's car. The way it looked, he was having a hard time keeping it on the road. Every once in a while, the sedan would begin to fish-tail before straightening out again.
But he wouldn't give up.I knew this, just as sure as I knew my own name – Camille Josephine O'Neal, aka Cami the Nanny.
One thing about Mason, he always got what he wanted.Including me.
And I meant that literally.
