Hijacked

By B.J. Daniels

A reader favorite from New York Times bestselling author B.J. Daniels

Jack Donovan is in love with Angie Grant—and heartbroken when she unexpectedly marries his business partner. When Angie goes missing, declared dead, Jack is determined to prove her husband is the murderer. But then Jack begins catching glimpses of Angie…in a crowd, a taxi. Will Jack get a second chance with the woman he loves—or is there someone else orchestrating the ultimate revenge?

Previously published

Look for BJ Daniel’s latest title Reunion at Cardwell Ranch, part of her bestselling Cardwell Ranch series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: May 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781460347102

B.J. Daniels

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author B.J. Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and two springer spaniels. When not writing, she quilts, boats and always has a book or two to read. Contact her at www.bjdaniels.com, on Facebook at B.J. Daniels or through her reader group the B.J. Daniels' Big Sky Darlings, and on twitter at bjdanielsauthor.

Book preview

Prologue

September

Houston, Texas

AND WITH THE power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.

Patrick turned from the altar with his new bride, more pleased with himself than he’d ever been. He’d pulled it off—against incredible odds, too.

Finally, he’d beaten Jack Donovan at something. He’d not only gotten the girl—he’d gotten Jack’s girl.

He took his bride’s hand as they started down the aisle. By this time tomorrow he would finally have everything he wanted.

Now it was just a matter of getting Angie out of town—and killing her.

He glanced over at his new bride. Angie was a beauty. Too bad she was so damn rich. And too bad for her that the last thing he wanted was a wife. Mostly, he knew he couldn’t keep up the pretense much longer and he wasn’t about to let her leave him and take all her money with her.

So he’d come up with a plan to get rid of her on their honeymoon.

She looked at him. He squeezed her hand, reassuring her, just as he’d had to do for weeks. He’d seen her start to waver, becoming more uncertain as the wedding grew closer. It helped that Jack Donovan was locked up in jail and would have a hell of a time making bail at all, let alone getting out to spoil the wedding.

Angie!

At least, that had been the plan, Patrick thought as he looked up to see Jack burst into the church, yelling Angie’s name.

Angie?

The look on Jack’s face was priceless as he saw the bride and groom coming down the aisle. Too late, Jack.

Patrick felt Angie stumble at the sight of Jack framed in the doorway. The bitch had been hoping Jack would stop the wedding! Patrick tightened his grip on her. Amazing the way she trembled, just seeing Jack again. She still loved him—even after all the trouble Patrick had gone to, the weeks of planning and pretending, holding her hand and letting her cry on his shoulder.

He could feel her slipping out of his control as if her blind love for Jack Donovan was even stronger than the drugs and lies Patrick had numbed her with.

Patrick put his arm around Angie—just in case she had any idea of going to Jack—as four security guards cut Jack off. He was a little disappointed Jack didn’t put up more of a fight, but then, it was four against one.

By the time he and Angie reached the church door, the guards had restrained Jack in a room out of sight—and hearing. There was no way Jack was getting near the bride. Not today. Angie didn’t need to hear any more of Jack’s wild stories about being framed. You lose, Jack.

Everything was going just as planned. Patrick felt his smile slip, though, as he looked over at his bride. Too bad she didn’t appreciate all he’d gone through to get her. He’d always been second to Jack. Just the little friend from the poor family in the old neighborhood. The guy Jack always had to help out when Patrick failed. Well, not this time.

This time he’d outsmarted Jack. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t always be second to Jack when it came to Angie. But not for long, he reminded himself.

By tomorrow Angie would be dead. Jack would be devastated—and back in jail for violating the restraining order Patrick had against him.

And Patrick would be rich and free. And there was nothing Jack could do to save Angie. Not a damn thing.

Once in the limo, Patrick poured the champagne and handed a glass to his pale and obviously shaken bride. Did she realize yet the mistake she’d made? Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to keep up this pretense much longer.

At his sweet insistence, she took a sip of the drug-laced champagne. Later, when she complained she didn’t feel well, they would leave the reception early.

She thought they were flying to Hawaii. Wouldn’t she be surprised when she realized that wasn’t the case? By then, though, she would be in no shape to protest.

He glanced over at her, afraid he wouldn’t be able to get her out of town quickly enough. Tendrils of her dark hair framed an unusually pale face. Her brown eyes shone with unshed tears and her hand shook as she held the champagne glass to her lips. Damn Jack for showing up.

A stab of anger pierced Patrick’s practiced facade. He had bent over backward to try to make her happy, had spared no expense, but she still wanted Jack. He had to turn away, to look out the window. He couldn’t blow it now. Just a few more hours of pretending and Angie would be dead and he would be a very rich widower. He did like the sound of that.

He turned back to his bride and smiled sympathetically. I know how hard this is for you. We both loved Jack. It’s…heartbreaking to see him mess up his life like this. Drink up, he said as the limo pulled up to the country club where the reception was being held. It’s almost over.

Chapter One

ANGIE WOKE TO the roar of the small jet touching down. She opened her eyes, instantly confused as to where she was. Worse, who she was with. She’d been dreaming about Jack and a wedding. She’d foolishly expected to see Jack in the seat beside her.

But instead it was Patrick. Just the sight of him brought it all back. Jack’s lies. Jack’s betrayal. She turned away, feeling sick. Out the small window all she could see at first was darkness, then the inky black line of high mountains etched against the night sky. The tops of the mountains gleamed in the moonlight. Snow?

Where are we? She sat up straighter, suddenly afraid. I thought we were flying to Hawaii. The confusion in her mind was scaring her.

Don’t you remember, sweetheart? Patrick asked, looking concerned.

She’d been forgetting things the past few weeks. A lot of things, it seemed. She often felt as if she were walking around in a fog.

That’s what she got for falling in love with Jack Donovan. Hadn’t her father always warned her not to mix business and pleasure? She’d broken all the rules she’d lived by for twenty-eight years—and paid the price.

Jack had lied, cheated, broken the law. If that wasn’t enough, he’d betrayed her with another woman. That she could never forgive.

We’re in Montana, Patrick said patiently, as if speaking to a child.

Montana?

Remember, we decided a cabin in the mountains of Montana would be much more romantic than Hawaii, where everyone honeymoons.

The plane slowed to a stop. She looked out the window and felt a chill run up her spine as she saw that they hadn’t even landed at an airport. Instead, the small jet had put down on what appeared to be an old highway surrounded by pine-dark mountains. She could see weeds growing up through wide dark cracks in the pavement, as if the highway hadn’t been used in years, and shivered as she looked around and saw nothing but mountains and pine trees.

She didn’t remember Patrick saying anything about a change in their honeymoon plans. Nor about flying to Montana right after the reception to stay in a cabin. A cabin in the woods was so…not Patrick.

Her head ached as much as her heart. She felt Patrick take her hand and she wondered if she was losing her mind. She must be. Why else had she married Jack’s best friend?

As she let Patrick lead her off the plane, Angie drew in the cold night air, filling her nose with the scent of pine. She felt her head begin to clear a little.

The car is right over here, Patrick said. I have champagne chilling just for you.

She could hear a motor running, and moved toward the dark vehicle parked off the highway.

He opened the door and ushered her into a large, warm Suburban SUV. The heater was on. She could hear the whirl of it, feel the waves of heat rising around her. She glanced out into the darkness but didn’t see another soul.

Here, have some of this while I get our luggage, Patrick said, pouring her a glass of the champagne. Drink up, sweetheart. It’s only a short drive to the cabin.

She took the glass he pressed into her fingers as he closed the car door. She saw that he was waiting just outside the car. She lifted the glass to her lips.

He winked. Over the rim, she watched him walk down the road away from her. She knew he’d look back, but she didn’t know how, any more than she knew how she’d ended up here.

He glanced over his shoulder, smiled as if pleased with her, then continued toward the plane.

Her lips touched the cold champagne. She shivered and lowered the glass, staring down into the sparkling liquid as if she could read the future in the bubbles.

He’d be angry if she didn’t drink it after he’d gone to the trouble. The thought shocked her—not that Patrick would be angry; he was always put out with her when she didn’t seem to appreciate the things he did for her—that she could be manipulated like that.

What was wrong with her? She’d never let any man force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. Quite the opposite.

But here she was married to Patrick, a man she didn’t love. About to drink a glass of champagne she didn’t want. About to go to a cabin she had no desire to go to on a honeymoon she didn’t care about.

This wasn’t like her. At least, not like the woman she had been before she started falling for Jack Donovan.

That’s when she changed, wasn’t it? Or was it when she found out that Jack had betrayed her? Wasn’t that when she started letting Patrick make decisions for her?

She lowered her window and poured the champagne onto the ground. The night air felt good. She turned down the heat and breathed in, as if imbibing sanity.

Patrick started back toward her with the luggage, the bright starlight bathing him in cold whiteness. She stared up at the sky, startled and afraid she was losing her mind. A new moon. She couldn’t have agreed to be married on this night. New moons were bad luck.

Instinctively, she reached up to touch the good luck charm around her neck.

It was gone! In its place was something cold and foreign.

Panic filled her. She never took off the talisman. Never. Had she lost it? Or had Patrick talked her into removing it for the wedding? What else had he talked her into?

This marriage.

She opened the car door and stumbled out. She didn’t know how this had gotten so out of hand, but she couldn’t let it go any further.

Stay in the car, Patrick said, sounding irritated. I can get the luggage.

I don’t want to go to the cabin. It surprised her how unsteady she felt on her feet. I’m sorry, Patrick. This is a mistake. I want to take the plane back—

The roar of the jet drowned out the rest. She lurched toward the small plane.

Patrick dropped the luggage and grabbed her arm. Are you crazy? he yelled at her over the sound of the jet taxiing down the old highway away from them.

She tried to shake him off, but she felt dizzy and weak and her strength was no match for his.

"Most women get cold feet before the wedding, not after," he said, letting go of her because there was no place to go now.

She realized that beyond the old road, there were no lights. No towns close by. Why did she get the feeling that Patrick had planned it that way? He’d wanted her alone, just the two of them, because he thought he could make her forget Jack. Had she let him think that was possible? She must have.

Where is my necklace? she asked. Her grandmother had given her the amulet to ward off evil spirits, although she’d never told anyone that except Jack. He’d laughed and hadn’t believed her. He’d never had to worry about bad luck—until he met her.

You’re concerned about that stupid, cheap charm? Patrick snapped. Really, Angie, a woman with your money shouldn’t be wearing costume jewelry. Especially the dime-store kind.

That necklace brought me luck, she said, feeling close to tears, as the small jet roared over them and headed south, the lights becoming dimmer and dimmer.

Luck? What is it with you and this superstition thing?

She shook her head. She didn’t have the energy to explain it to him. Just give me my necklace. She remembered now his coming into the bride’s room with a present for her. He’d laughed when she told him it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding; then he’d come up behind her, taken off the amulet and put the bright white gold chain around her neck, a large diamond pendant dangling from it. Against her protests, he’d pocketed her amulet.

She shivered. I want my necklace.

So much for my wedding present. Patrick shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and tossed her the amulet.

She caught it and saw at once in the starkness of the starlight that the chain was broken. Her gaze came up. She glared at him.

It broke when I took it off, he said, sounding angry and disgusted with her. Do you have any idea how much that diamond around your neck cost me? Oh, I forgot, money means nothing to you.

She leaned against the side of the car, clutching the talisman in her fist, exhausted. I appreciate everything you’ve tried to do but—

Angie, I’m sorry, he said, softening his tone. It’s late and we’re both tired. Look, if you still feel like you’ve made a mistake tomorrow, I’ll take you into Missoula and you can catch a plane back to Houston, all right?

She breathed deeply in and out, trying to clear the fog from her brain. She had to find that old inner strength that had got her this far in life. She had to take control of her life again.

He stepped to her and brushed a lock of her hair back from her forehead, his fingers warm against her skin. I know I’m getting you on the rebound, but I don’t care. I thought my love for you would be enough for a while, until…. I guess I was kidding myself that you could ever love me as much as I love you.

She closed her eyes, too tired, too confused, too wounded by what Jack had done to her.

The plane is gone and it’s getting so late, Patrick said, his tone soothing. The closest real town is Missoula, and to get there you have to go down a narrow, winding mountain road. Can we just go to the cabin tonight? It’s not far. I’ll build a fire. We can have a late supper. I’ll sleep on the couch. In the morning, if it’s still what you want, I’ll drive you to Missoula. I’d hate to drive the road tonight considering I’ve never been on it before. But I will, if it’s what you want.

He sounded so reasonable, so caring. She opened her eyes. She could see his face in the moonlight. How could she have let him think she could fall for him the way she had for Jack? And marriage? Why couldn’t she remember his asking her, her agreeing? She couldn’t even recall most of the wedding ceremony—except for Jack bursting into the church. The look on his face.

Angie, it’s just one night, Patrick said, his voice thick with emotion. If I’d known earlier that you felt like this… He shook his head, picked up the luggage and stood waiting for her to tell him what she wanted.

She felt weak and sick to her stomach. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Her head still ached and she felt as if she needed to sit down before she fell down. She needed something solid to eat. She needed to get her strength back, to get her edge back.

She looked at him, telling herself this wasn’t his fault. He’d been there for her during those horrible days after Jack’s arrest, after she’d found out about Jack Donovan’s crimes against her. Patrick had thought he could make her forget Jack. Maybe at some point she’d hoped he could.

There is food at the cabin? she asked.

He smiled. Everything we need.

You’ll take me to this…Missoula in the morning?

He nodded, looking miserable but resigned. If it’s still what you want.

Thank you. I’m sorry—

Let’s not talk about it tonight, he interrupted. You’re tired. Get in the car where it’s warm. I don’t want you catching your death of cold because of me.

She climbed into the Suburban. The heat did feel good. She rolled up her window, leaving a crack at the top to allow in fresh night air, even though she was chilled to the bone. It was