“Why not?” she demanded furiously.
“Because you belong to me,” he retorted simply. “And I don’t want other men crying on your shoulder.”
“Damn it, Judd, how many times do I have to Cell you that you don’t own me just because you brought me out of Mexico!”
But he was concentrating on the airport turnoff and didn’t bother to answer. Honor sat stiffly in her seat, her mind churning with possible ways of escape. When he parked the car she would be able to leap clear and make a dash toward the main terminal, perhaps. Or she could scream blue murder as he carried her through the general aviation flight lounge. Maybe a policeman would come along.
In the end none of those alternatives presented itself. Judd simply parked the car at the curb, scooped her up and carried her out onto the tarmac where rows of small private planes were sitting. He didn’t even carry her through a waiting area. There was no one else around on the darkened tarmac.
Before Honor fully realized she wasn’t going to have a chance to even attract attention with a good scream because of the noise of the jets taking off from the nearby commercial runway she found herself strapped into the passenger seat of the Cessna. In only a matter of moments Judd was receiving permission from the control tower to taxi out onto the runway. Honor sat raging helplessly in her seat, her bound hands useless in her lap. She found herself looking down at the receding lights of Phoenix as the Cessna leaped obediently into the air a few seconds later.
“What in the hell do you think you’re going to do with me in New Mexico?” she demanded above the roar of the engine.
“We’re going to become friends,” he told her and through her shock she was dimly aware that he meant every word.
“Judd, I hate to disillusion you, but good friendships don’t start out like this!” She held out her bound wrists accusingly.
“Why don’t you try to get some rest, Honor? It’s a long trip.”
Surprisingly enough she did manage to doze a little. The glow of the cabin lights and the steady throb of the engine were strangely lulling even though Honor had never been overly fond of flying. Perhaps she was just tired, or perhaps it was because, deep down, she trusted Judd’s flying skills. Whatever the reason, when she woke sometime later the Cessna was beginning to descend.
“Where are we?” she asked sleepily, lifting her hands to rub her eyes and discovering she was still bound. She lowered them again in disgust.
“Just outside of Albuquerque. A small airfield on the edge of the city.”
“Are we landing for fuel?” she asked hopefully, plotting means of escape.
“No. We’re home, Honor.”
Home. “You live here in Albuquerque?”
“Yes.”
The airstrip was deserted as the Cessna rolled to a stop at the far end. There was no chance of yelling for help, Honor acknowledged as Judd lifted her out of the cabin and set her on her feet. And she was too stiff from the long flight to make an attempt at running, she decided wretchedly. Honor watched as the plane was carefully put to bed for the night; this time she managed to resist any cracks about Judd’s close association with his Cessna. Instinct told her he might hot be in the best frame of mind for that kind of comment.
“Here, let me see your hands,” he murmured gruffly as he finished chocking the wheels and came forward to take hold of her wrists. When she held them out stiffly he deftly untied the strip of fabric. “There’s no place to run out here, honey,” he advised, surveying her face in the glow of an overhead light. ‘The city is several miles away and there’s noting but desert in any other direction you care to look.”
“You can’t keep me here indefinitely, Judd, and you know it.” She absently chafed her wrists, although they had not been bound very tightly.
“I know,” was all he said and led her toward an open jeep that was parked beside one of the nearby buildings.
He drove only a short distance from the airport, pulling into the curving drive of what appeared to be a house done in the southwestern adobe style. There were no other houses close by, Honor observed uneasily as she climbed obediently out of the jeep and was led toward the front door. In the moonlight the adobe structure stood alone and aloof, rather like its owner.
“I haven’t been here in a couple of weeks so there’s probably not much to eat except whatever I left in the freezer. I can get you a drink though,” Judd began as he opened the door and urged Honor into the tiled hall.
She ignored the offer of a drink, glancing around quizzically. The house was a cool blend of colonial Mexican and local Indian colors and textures. The woven wall hangings were genuine, she saw at a glance, and Honor rather suspected that much of the heavy, carved furniture was, too. Large windows in the living room looked out into a private courtyard. A very self-contained sort of house, she thought. More refined and graceful than she would have expected, knowing what she did about the owner. Perhaps Judd had put into his house some of the things he couldn’t put into his emotional life.
“Do you like it?” he asked from behind her and she spun around to find him watching intently as she surveyed his home.
“As prisons go, I suppose it’s not bad. Did you bring me all this way to rape me in the comfort and convenience of your own home?” she mocked deliberately. Honor didn’t like the way she had reacted to the question in his eyes. Damn it, she was not going to let herself be misled again by this man. He’d fooled her once by making her think he could be reached on a human level. He wouldn’t fool her twice.
“Your room is down mat hall,” he told her, dark eyes hardening at the sharpness of her tongue.
“Fine. Then if you’ll just hand me my suitcase I’ll go to bed. It’s been a very trying evening.” Perhaps she could bluff her way through this, Honor decided on a small note of optimism.
He looked a little confused, as if things weren’t going quite according to plan. “A drink, first,” he stated, heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll fix us both a drink. We could use it.”
As soon as he stepped around the corner and flipped on the kitchen light switch, Honor grabbed her suitcase and dashed down the hall to the room he had indicated would be hers. Once inside she whirled and slammed the door, locking it firmly behind her. Then, leaning back against it, she surveyed her quarters.
Not bad, actually, she decided wryly. Mexico had been a lot worse in terms of creature comforts. The windows looked out into the courtyard. There was a wide double bed with heavily carved posts at the far end of the room, and the rugs on the floor were beautiful examples of Indian weaving. Best of all there was a private bath, which she could see through a door that stood ajar. Straightening, she stalked across the room and checked to be sure the sliding glass doors were also locked.