“Not quite.” It was hard to smile, although she did.

“You’d be a bunco gal if you were a grifter. But I don’t think so.”

“You could check the police files, couldn’t you?”

He seemed not to have heard her.

“Where are you taking me, Scott?”

“Show you in a minute. Got a cigarette?”

“Heck no.” Cassie looked as if she wanted to spit. “How long have they had a cure for cancer? Eighteen months? Something like that. Just eighteen months, and everybody smokes.”

“Never mind. I’ll buy some soon as I drop you off up here.”

“Where’s up here?”

To her surprise, he pointed. “Right there. In the parking lot.”

“You’re going to leave me there and drive away? It’ll take me twenty minutes just to hike someplace where I can catch a cab.”

The car slowed.

“In heels!” She hoped that it sounded as bitter as she felt.

“You see that black car over there? The dead black one. It doesn’t shine.”

She nodded.

“Sweet. You get out of this car and get in that one, and that’s all you do. It’s unlocked on the passenger’s side. Get in. Right side, front. Wait.”

“Suppose I don’t?”

“I kick your ass out of my car and after that you’re on your own. Twenty minutes? That what you said? Get in the black car and you probably won’t have to wait that long. So which is it?” He grinned. “I’m a good kicker, Miss Casey. Try me.”

“I’ve got a gun in my purse.”

He held out his hand. “Right here. Fork it over.”

“You want me to take it out and give it to you?” She was incredulous. “I could shoot you.”

“But you won’t. Fork it over.”

She opened her door and slid off the seat. “I was lying. Fibbing, all right? I haven’t really got one.”

She had thought her purse out of reach. It was not. He snatched it from her and straightened up.

“Hey!”

“Shut up,” he muttered. He was fumbling with the catch.

“I could call the police. I could have you arrested.”