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with her left.
    No way could he achieve that move.
    Before he had stopped marveling at her spectacular physical feat, she rummaged around beneath her skirt. There was a metal clunk, more scrambling with her hands, and finally a distinct click he recognized. That could be trouble. For him.
    “Turn over.”
    His full attention fixed on the knife in her hand.
    “Turn over,” she repeated.
    Levi rolled onto his right side. If he was lucky she was about to cut him loose. If he wasn’t, she might be about to bury the blade to the hilt. The decision required little weighing. He would take his chances with her any day over the hombres in the cab. At the very least she would be easier to subdue. Maybe. The sawing action against the ropes constricting his wrists permitted a fraction of relief.
    “Now do me.”
    That was an invitation he would gladly accept now and later. Levi had to remind himself that, from what he knew, the lady was as likely to shoot him as she was to do anything else. She’d drawn her weapon first back there. She might not be as easy to subdue as she looked. She had acted quite fearless.
    Exiling those concerns for now, he rolled back to his left and accepted the small switchblade. Waiting through a couple of bucks of the pickup was necessary before sliding the blade between her tightly bound wrists. The instant she was free she rubbed at the chafed skin. Levi quickly cut through the bindings around his ankles then reached for hers. She trembled when he touched her.
    Soft. Her skin was soft and smooth as if she’d carefully shaved her legs then massaged them with lotion in anticipation of him touching her.
    Did he really just think that?
    The desert’s night air had obviously drugged him. Or maybe it was that subtle sweet scent of hers.
    Another crazy notion. Okay, Stark, get it together. He sliced through the ropes, then closed the switchblade.
    “I’ll hang on to that.” She took the knife from him and prepared to sit up.
    “I wouldn’t do that.” Before his mush for brains could form a coherent thought and stop him, he’d grabbed her and pulled her back down beside him.
    She jerked free of his hold. “You grab me like that again and I’ll—”
    “They have guns,” he warned in case she didn’t recall. “If we move around or try to jump out and they notice—which they will—they’ll shoot.”
    “You’re suggesting we just lie here and wait for them to take us wherever they want?”
    Sounded lame when she put it that way. “I’m suggesting we maintain the element of surprise. They won’t expect us to have gotten loose or to have a weapon. When they stop and come back for us, we’ll make the first strike.” Speaking of which… “Are you going to be able to use that knife when the time comes?” Fair question.
    She laughed. If it hadn’t annoyed the devil out of him he might have liked the throaty, honest sound of it.
    “Look, mister, I don’t know who you are—”
    “Levi Stark.” He hadn’t gotten to his name before. She had a way of cutting him off like that. “My name is Levi Stark and I’m well trained in the use of weapons.” The Colby Agency ensured top-notch training before turning investigators loose in the field.
    “Glad to hear it, Stark.” She slumped onto her back. “But I’ll take my chances with my own training.”
    It was her switchblade; the choice was hers. “You didn’t tell me your name.” If they were about to fight or die together, perhaps both, knowing her name would make the circumstances a bit more civil.
    “Casey,” she said with a long look in his direction. “Casey Manning.”
    Nice name. “We can check the bed of the truck, moving around as little as possible, and see if we can find anything usable as a weapon.”
    “Stellar idea.”
    At least they agreed on one thing.
    Keeping their movements as controlled and minimal as possible, each searched one side of the truck bed from cab to tailgate. The truck was old and there was plenty of