Gone

by Shirlee McCoy

  He wasn’t going to let that happen.

  He walked into the living room, moving across the oversize space, his heart thrumming with adrenaline. He’d trained for this kind of thing. He knew how to face danger and how to neutralize it. He knew as much as he needed to stay alive and to protect the people around him.

  Knowing how to be what Ella needed, that was going to be more difficult. But he’d like to try. The way he saw things, God had put them in each other’s lives at just the time when they each needed it most. He wanted to explore what that might mean for now and for the future. Later, though. When they didn’t have danger breathing down their necks and an organization of thugs hunting them down.

  His cell phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, glancing at the number. It was Radley—his text flashing across the screen.

  Found a vehicle parked on the road half a mile away. License plate matches the partial the sheriff got off the car that ran him off the road.

  The sheriff had found a match to the partial, but the vehicle had been reported stolen months ago after it disappeared from the parking garage at the medical clinic.

  No way to know who had taken it, who’d been driving it when it had run the sheriff’s vehicle into the river or who’d parked it half a mile away. But Sam could make a reasonable assumption.

  Ian Wade had access to the parking garage and plenty of people willing to do his dirty work. If he’d needed a backup vehicle that couldn’t be traced to him, stealing one was a good way to go.

  His phone buzzed again as another text came through.

  Interesting stuff here. Looks like the back seat of the car is filled with suitcases.

  How many? Sam typed.

  Enough to go away and be gone a long time. I’d say it’s getting a little hot for our guy, and he’s trying to get to a cooler location.

  Contact Wren. See if she can get an emergency warrant.

  Will do, Radley responded.

  * * *

  And then the world exploded. Glass shattering. Smoke billowing up and pouring in through the broken window. Fire eating at the thick curtains and the world shaking as another explosion rocked the house.

  “We need to get Ella and get out!” Honor shouted, but he was already running, racing up the stairs toward Ella’s room.

  THIRTEEN

  She felt the first explosion.

  It shook her from sleep, drove her into consciousness.

  She was up on her feet, confused and disoriented when she heard the second—the sound reverberating through the room, shaking the foundation of the house.

  Smoke billowed up from the room below, and she ran for the door, remembered what Sam had asked. What she had promised.

  Her hand was on the doorknob, her heart thudding wildly, her brain screaming that she should forget the promise and get out. Now!

  The door flew open, the knob ripped from her hand as Sam bounded into the room. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The house was still shaking, and she wondered how long it would hold together before the damage from the explosion brought it down.

  Sam grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room.

  She was surprised when he didn’t race for the stairs, didn’t head straight for the front door. They could have made it easily. She could see that. No flames near the stairs or the front foyer. Nothing preventing them from opening the door and running out into the darkness.

  But Honor was at the other end of the hall, struggling with a window that opened out to the side yard.

  “Give me a hand, Sam!” she shouted, and Sam dragged Ella toward her.

  She tried to pull away, desperately yanking against his hold.

  “There’s a front door! That will be quicker,” she nearly yelled, her fear coming out in a burst of frantic words and short breaths.

  “Someone set off those explosions. Whoever it was will be watching the doors, waiting for us to exit the house,” Sam replied, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting it drop.

  He was calm.

  She was panicked.

  “If we go out the front door, we’re going to be moving targets for a sniper’s bullet,” he continued, saying it casually as if it were an everyday situation, a predictable one.

  “If we jump out a window, we’re going to have broken legs and no way of escaping when this house falls down,” she responded.

  “We’ve got that covered,” Honor said, opening a window seat and pulling out a rope ladder. “Easy-peasy. We’ll be done in a blink of an eye.”

  “If the window ever opens,” Ella muttered, not sure she liked the idea of climbing down a rope ladder when the guy who bombed the house was lurking outside.

  She liked the idea of staying inside even less, and when Sam finally wrestled the window open, she was relieved to feel the frigid air blowing against her cheeks.

  He attached the ladder to the sill and dropped it, the rope swishing as it unraveled.

  “I’ll go first,” he said. “You’re second, Ella. Then Honor.”

  “What if...?” What if the house collapses before the last person descends? The question almost tripped off her tongue. She held it back, because the more time Sam wasted explaining things, the less likely they’d all make it out alive.

  The house shook again—a quick quiver that made her heart jump and her mind go numb.

  “Let’s go!” Sam shouted, climbing out and scrambling down. Moving so quickly she barely saw him go. At the top and then at the bottom, and it was suddenly her turn.

  “You can do this, Ella,” Honor said, as if Ella being afraid was her greatest concern, as if she wasn’t calculating the time it would take for a terrified person to make it to the ground. As if she wasn’t wondering if there’d be enough time to do the same.

  And maybe she wasn’t, because she leaned out the window, looked down. “It’s not that far. Just take your time and take it one step after another. You’ll be down before you know it.”

  “I’ll be quick,” Ella promised, climbing over the window ledge, her heart thumping wildly.

  She didn’t look down.

  She didn’t dare.

  She was afraid if she did, she’d freeze, stuck at the top and blocking Honor’s escape.

  Her legs shook, but she managed to find the first rung and the second. Feet first. Then hands. Easy. But not as quick as she wanted to be. She knew Sam was at the bottom, that he was waiting for her to clamber down and that if she fell, he’d try to catch her.

  Try, because the house had a raised foundation and a walkout basement. They were on the second floor, but they were three-stories high. If she fell from that height, the likelihood that he’d be able to stop her momentum and keep her from being injured was slim to none. That wasn’t fun or cool. Neither was Ella taking her time and letting Honor’s life hang in the balance.

  She’d felt the foundation shake.

  She knew it had been damaged.

  Every second she wasted was a second closer to the structure caving in.

  Another explosion rocked the house, and she screamed, losing her grip as a piece of gutter crashed by a few inches away. She tried to grab on to the rope again, but she was already falling, flailing, searching for a way to stop herself.

  * * *

  Sam caught Ella easily, setting her down and turning his attention to the window again. Honor was already out, moving quickly, climbing down like she’d spent her life doing it.

  When her feet hit the ground, they were off, racing toward the tree line, as a fourth explosion rocked the ground.

  Not big explosions.

  These were the kind created by amateurs. Usually kids who thought it would be funny to make a bomb based off internet instructions. More bark than bite, the bombs could damage structures and kill people, but usually ended up blowing a trash can or Dumpster to smitheree
ns, instead.

  Of course, this wasn’t a kid playing a game. This was an adult with deadly intent. Ian wasn’t playing around, and he wasn’t taking chances. He wanted to take them out, and he was using whatever he thought necessary to do it.

  How many bombs would he set off?

  And was he alone?

  That was the more important question.

  The spacing of the bombs made Sam think he was. Otherwise, he’d have been able to set them off simultaneously. Front, back, sides. Hoping that the house would collapse. Knowing that if it didn’t, his prey would race outside to escape the smoke and the possibility of the structure caving in.

  Just like they had.

  He’d expected them to exit through the front door.

  He’d left that route open.

  It wouldn’t take him long to figure out they’d found a different way.

  Sam had his hand around Ella’s wrist, and he was running at full speed. She somehow managed to keep up, taking two or three steps for every one of his. She couldn’t keep that pace forever, but she seemed determined to try.

  Or, maybe, she was just determined not to slow them down.

  He’d been surprised at how quickly she’d climbed out the window. She was afraid of heights. She’d admitted that, and the window of the log cabin had been higher than the apartment balcony.

  She’d managed, though, and she’d have made it down quickly, even if she hadn’t fallen. The fact that she had had shaved six years off Sam’s life. He’d been certain he’d felt gray hair sprouting as he’d somehow managed to break her fall.

  They made it to the trees, and he slowed, listening to the sudden silence. No forest creatures roaming around. No crickets chirping. Nothing but a thick quiet filled with expectation.

  “We should head to the road,” Honor whispered. “Wren and Adam can pick us up there.”

  “You contacted them?” he responded, glancing over his shoulder, his attention on the house and the small flames that were bright against the foundation.

  The fire would be out before fire crews arrived. Whether or not the foundation was damaged enough for the house to be condemned was something structural engineers and the fire marshal would have to decide.

  “Of course,” Honor said, moving to the left and toward the only access road to the property. “I called while I was trying to open the window. Wren said they were already on the way back. Bo took them on a nice merry little drive, and she got tired of it. She told him she’d had enough, and they were done.”

  “I’m not sure the road is the place to be,” he said, the hair on his arms suddenly standing up.

  He stopped, pulling Ella with him, listening again.

  A twig snapped, the sound reverberating through the forest, and Honor froze, suddenly understanding what Sam already did—they weren’t alone.

  “Radley?” she mouthed through the darkness, her face a pale oval.

  He shook his head.

  Radley moved silently.

  If he were there, he wouldn’t be heard. Not until he wanted to be.

  Another branch snapped, this one closer, and he started moving again. Quietly. Quickly. Ella right beside him, hand in his. Honor just a few steps ahead, leading them deeper into the trees instead of toward the road.

  She understood now...just how close they all were to dying. One misstep, one loud noise, and gunfire would erupt. Whether or not Wade could see his target wouldn’t matter. He’d failed at his plan to flush them out and into the line of fire. Now, he’d do whatever he could to make certain he succeeded in his goal. Revenge, retaliation, retribution. Whatever word was put to it, it meant the same—murder.

  Wade had his car packed, and he was ready to start a new life, but first he wanted to end the old one by killing the people who had cost him everything.

  The distant sound of sirens drifted through the forest, and Sam knew Wade heard it, that he was probably getting desperate to finish what he’d started. He was an arrogant man, one who’d gotten away with his crimes for years. He wasn’t expecting to be caught, but he wouldn’t stay around waiting for it to happen.

  He’d act, and then he’d run.

  Sam frowned, the early-warning system he’d acquired from years of working as a law enforcement officer going off, yelling for his attention. Demanding it.

  Telling him he wasn’t safe.

  They weren’t safe.

  Telling him to get down, take cover, wait.

  Honor was just ahead, moving through a towering pine forest, moonlight providing just enough light to make her an easy target.

  Behind him, another branch snapped, and he could feel the eyes of the hunter. Feel them like he felt the cold on his skin. A safety cocked, the sound as unmistakable as a lush flower in the desert.

  “Get down!” he shouted, and he saw Honor duck as he tackled Ella to the ground, gunfire exploding through the darkness.

  FOURTEEN

  She wasn’t dead, but she would be if Sam didn’t move.

  He was a heavy weight, driving her face into the loamy earth and forcing the air from her lungs.

  “Sam?” she gasped, and when he didn’t respond, she knew.

  That he was hurt.

  Shot.

  Needed help.

  She managed to squeeze out from beneath him, wiggling into thick brambles, the sound of someone screaming discordant background noise to her frantically pounding heart.

  “Sam?” she said again, feeling for his pulse and finding it. Steady and slow. Just like it should be.

  But he still wasn’t moving, and she was terrified.

  “Everyone okay?” Radley called, moving through the woods loudly for a change, his footsteps matched by the frantic panicked cries of the man he was escorting. Ian Wade didn’t look nearly as arrogant and perfect as the day she’d met him. He didn’t look like the sorrowful boyfriend or the busy doctor. He looked like a criminal, his wrists in cuffs, blood dripping from a wound in his upper arm.

  “I’m not okay, you idiot!” he howled. “I’m bleeding, and if you don’t stop and render aid, I’m going to sue you and everyone you work with.”

  “That would be a lot of people, Doctor,” Radley said, stretching out the last word as if he wanted to remind Ian of just how far he’d fallen.

  “I don’t care how many people it is, it’s happening. You have no right to treat me like this.”

  “Like what?” Honor asked, popping up from behind a clump of shoulder-high bushes. “A criminal?”

  “Sam is injured,” Ella broke in, her voice trembling with fear, her hands shaking as she tried to find the wound.

  She ran her hands up his arms, slid them along the column of his neck, felt warm blood oozing from somewhere.

  His head?

  No, please, Lord. Don’t let it be that, she prayed silently, urgently. Because she couldn’t imagine anyone surviving a bullet to the head. She couldn’t imagine him opening his eyes and telling her that everything was going to be okay.

  She couldn’t imagine life without him, either.

  She couldn’t imagine going back to her house and picking up where she’d left off—writing her articles, sticking close to home, doing safe and easy things because they didn’t make her afraid.

  “Please don’t die,” she whispered in his ear.

  A light flashed on, and the forest was illuminated. Green pine needles, golden leaves and Sam lying motionless and silent, blood seeping from his temple and dripping onto the ground.

  Her heart dropped, her throat tightened and tears she’d been holding back for days slid down her cheeks. She didn’t try to stop them. She didn’t care who saw. Out of the billions of people on earth, she’d found the one who could have mattered.

  Who did matter.

  For always.

  And he was lying on the groun
d bleeding, because he’d been willing to give everything to protect her.

  “Sam!” Honor yelled, dropping down beside Ella, the light in her hand. “Did you check his pulse?”

  “Yes. He’s alive, but...” She gestured to the blood, her words too muffled with tears to be intelligible.

  “Call for an ambulance!” Honor shouted.

  Ella wasn’t sure who she was shouting at, but she grabbed her phone and dialed, the sound of sirens growing louder.

  An operator answered on the second ring, and Ella gave the situation and location, repeating questions that she was asked so that Honor could hear.

  “Is he breathing?” she asked, and Honor nodded.

  “Steady pulse. Bullet wound to the right temple. We’ll need a trauma team, so ask for LifeFlight to the nearest level one trauma hospital. Do we know where that is?”

  “We’ll need LifeFlight,” she told the dispatcher. “He’s been shot in the head.”

  She said it calmly, as if it weren’t important, as if her heart weren’t breaking, as if everything that had happened to Sam weren’t her fault. He’d saved her life. If he’d sacrificed his own doing it, she didn’t know how she could live with that. He was a one-in-a-million kind of guy. The world shouldn’t lose a man like him.

  She didn’t want to lose him.

  “Sam?” She touched his cheek, her voice breaking.

  “Tell them to send the ambulance STAT!” Honor shouted to be heard above the sirens, tugging off her jacket and pressing it against the bleeding wound. “He’s alive. I’d like to keep it that way!”

  “So would I,” Sam said, the words sluggish but clear. “So how about you lower your voice before the sound breaks my skull?”

  “Sam!” Ella shouted, so surprised, so relieved, tears pooled in her eyes. “You’re okay!”

  “If okay is having a sledgehammer hitting me in the head every couple of seconds, yeah. I’m fine.” He finally opened his eyes, looked into her face. Smiled gently. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

  “How is having a sledgehammer hitting you in the head fine?” she said, sniffing back tears, wiping them from her face, because he was going to be okay. She was certain of that. Just like she was certain that when this was over, and she returned home, he’d be the first person she thought of every morning and the last one she thought of every night.