Raven's Prey

thousand! Is that all?” Was that all a human life was worth these days? But then he hadn’t been paid to kill her, only to deliver her to the executioners. “What kind of a man are you to do this sort of thing for a living?” she hissed.
    “The kind of man who works for a living.” He appeared totally unperturbed by the taunt. Was there any way of getting through that wall of indifference? Could anything reach this man?
    Money. If he was doing this for money perhaps that was the way to get through to him. A few crucial seconds ticked past as Honor considered the possibility. “A couple of thousand” she repeated carefully. He nodded in polite agreement, saying nothing. “A couple of thousand plus expenses,” Honor went on, striving to sound as cool and cynical as he did. “I’ll double that if you’ll just go away and leave me here.”
    He was silent for a long moment and she couldn’t even begin to tell what he was thinking. “They told me you probably had some money with you,” he finally said.
    “Everything that was in my bank account” she assured him quickly, daring to let a spark of hope ignite. “All in cash.”
    “And all belonging to your father,” Raven concluded bluntly. “Hell, lady, at your age don’t you think it’s time you started working for a living instead of sponging off your family? Maybe if you went home and got a job you could learn a little self-discipline, start putting your life in order.” He sounded as if the suggested therapy was only of academic interest to him. “Or maybe what you need is marriage to a man who won’t let you get away with playing your stupid head games. It’s obvious your father has handled you all wrong but the right kind of husband might be able to undo some of the damage and make an adult woman out of you.”
    “Oh, for God’s sake!” she gasped, struggling against the defeating knowledge that she didn’t know how to deal with Judd Raven. So much depended on finding the key to this stranger and there was so little time. “Are you interested in my offer or not?”
    He shook his head briefly. “Not. Don’t look so crushed. It was a good try. It’s just that I already have a job and accepting your offer would have created a definite conflict of interest, don’t you think?”
    “I’ll triple the offer!” she tried desperately.
    “Forget it. Finish your meal and let’s go to your place. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us in the morning and I want to get some sleep.” He downed the last of the tequila and sat waiting with the patience of a hunter.
    “I seem to have lost my appetite. Listen to me, Judd Raven. If you won’t accept my money because you feel it would put you in conflict with [_my father’s _]offer then you must have some sort of business ethics…”
    “Business ethics sounds like a fancy term for holding up my end of a deal,” he drawled, that faint, frightening amusement lacing his words. “You can call it what you want, but doing the job I’ve agreed to do is just good business, period. A pilot doesn’t need a reputation for unreliability.”
    “That’s what you do for a living? I mean when you’re not kidnapping people?” she demanded. More and more it was beginning to look like Judd Raven was merely a tool. If she could somehow render him ineffective she might have a chance.
    “I ran a small ferrying outfit in New Mexico,” he explained with a shrug. “When a businessman in Africa or South America or God-knows-where orders a small private plane from the U.S., he commissions an outfit like mine to fly the aircraft to wherever he is. You don’t just pack up a Cessna or a Beechcraft and ship it halfway around the world, you know. It’s got to be flown to where it’s needed.”
    “I gather ferrying planes doesn’t pay very well, or you wouldn’t be obliged to take on outside jobs like kidnapping,” Honor snapped impatiently.
    “No,” he agreed gently, “it doesn’t pay all that well. So I sometimes supplement my income with ‘outside jobs,’ as you put it. Are you finished with that tamale yet?”
    Honor looked down at the half-eaten tamale, knowing she was never going to finish it. Her stomach was twisted into one large knot. “Judd,” she began evenly, still focusing on the tamale, “will you at least listen to my side of the story?”
    He reached across the table and closed iron fingers around her wrist. “You can tell me your side of the story on the way back to Arizona. Come