by Dora Hiers
The wailing sirens sounded closer. Or was that just her wishful thinking?
The elevator doors slammed shut. The cramped box lurched, making the climb up. Higher and higher. The numbers blurred, mingling with the moisture in Danae’s eyes and the regret that she’d never experience a happy-ever-after. Ryker would never know that she loved him. She’d never see the new building for the orphanage, never hold a babe in her arms.
The elevator dinged.
She let out a huge sigh and swiped at the dampness with the warmth of her sweater.
****
“This is it.” Rage and fear mingled with the blinding pain from Ryker’s side.
He mashed the brakes. The truck’s tires slid across the smooth surface of the parking garage, squealing in protest, coming to a stop just behind the council member’s SUV.
Ryker wiped sweat from his forehead. The phone had gone eerily quiet. Were they too late? He snatched the phone from the console as if it was a lifeline to Danae. Well, it was, wasn’t it? He pushed open the door, barely sparing a glance at Gunner. “Ready?”
“Yeah. You?” Hiking his dark eyebrows, Gunner held his weapon in one hand. The other squeezed the door handle.
“Try to keep me away.” Ryker gritted his teeth against the fear squeezing his gut. He could do this. He would do this. Danae needed him. He wouldn’t let her down.
He stepped out, gun drawn, pointed at the council member’s vehicle. Gunner followed suit, and they checked the interior.
“Clear.” Ryker didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
“What’s the plan?” Gunner asked.
“We don’t know which floor they’re on, so let’s assume they’re at the top and work our way down.”
“Got it.”
Ryker hustled to the elevator and glanced at the buttons, heart sinking at the lit number. Dread hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. He hit the “up” button, and the elevator blinked to nineteen, beginning its descent to the bottom floor.
Gunner radioed their location and intention.
“Looks like they’re on the twentieth floor. Let’s both start there. If we clear twenty, we’ll work our way down on separate floors.”
Gunner studied him, concern showing in the lines etching his face. “Are you sure, buddy? I can handle the top.”
Okay, so his fear of heights and airplanes was no big secret anymore. Did it matter? Not with Danae’s life at stake. Not with the possibility that at any second Danae might hurl three hundred feet to a certain death.
Sweat soaked his hair. Slicked his palms, ran down his back. He licked dry lips. “Yeah. I’m more than sure.”
The elevator passed the third floor, descending faster now. Still, precious seconds ticked by, the phone eerily silent in his hand. Sirens sounded closer, but according to dispatch, the police cruisers were still a couple minutes out. Rescue units even further behind.
The elevator doors opened. Gunner entered. Ryker took a deep breath and hustled inside, mashed the number for the top floor. Poked the close elevator button two times.
The door closed, and the elevator lifted.
Thank You, Lord! Please, God, spare Danae’s life. She’s so vibrant, so alive, so in love with life, so on fire for You. Help me to be like that, God. Help me to love You, to serve You, to be on fire for You. But, first, would You help me find her?
18
Baby steps.
Danae forced one foot in front of the other. Anything to buy time, to keep her feet planted on a solid surface.
A gun nudged her to move faster. She ignored it.
The wind howled and breezed through the open space, bringing in the scent of chicken wings and the tunes of a country song from a nearby bar and lifting her long hair to blanket David’s eyes. He cursed and swatted at her hair, pushing it away from his face. Gave her a second to catch her bearings, to search for an escape route.
Other than the one over the edge.
With only a sliver of moonlight to see by, she could not see any way out other than the same route she took to get here, back toward the elevator. A blue light flashed from the next block over, and those sirens sounded near.
But they weren’t close enough.
Not to help her anyway.
Close enough to pick up the pieces.
Maybe.
“Keep going.” The gun pressed again.
Panic clawed at her neck, but she pushed down the terror and took another step.
She would not be afraid. She was a daughter of the King. God would hold her in the palm of His hand, would send His angel to be with her as she plummeted, and would not leave her alone to walk through Heaven’s gate. She was sure of that.
Just as sure as the gun jamming into her back.
God, please help me here. I don’t know what to do.
She reached the window opening and stood on the precipice. Only a single two by four stood in the way of her and, oh, about a three-hundred-foot drop.
Moisture trickled down her cheek, liquid regret. Why hadn’t she told Ryker she loved him? Now it was too late. She would never feel his arm draped around her shoulder or his fingers pulling the tips of her hair. Would never gaze into those lion eyes or tease him again. Why had she insisted on the “no kissing?”
She’d miss spring’s glorious entrance, the newly formed buds bursting open into bloom, reaching toward the sun. Wouldn’t wake up to the wonderful aroma of coffee brewing. Would never again cheer at a football game or bite into thick, chewy pizza. She’d never sit in front of the fire with Lorie, chatting and giggling over a cup of coffee. Or hang out with Amber and Renata and play basketball with the kids at the orphanage. She wouldn’t be around to see the sunrise. Not that she ever made it up early enough to see too many sunrises.
But, she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.
A warm breeze enveloped Danae, wrapping around her more snugly, more intimately, than sitting in front of her fireplace or snuggling under a down comforter. Her breath skipped, and she sniffled.
I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.
Thank you, God. I needed that.
Why did it have to be too late? God knew her heart’s desire…to hear Ryker whisper in her ear, “I love you.” And to snuggle against a little babe’s neck and know that she was stronger than her mother because with God on her side, how could she fail?
Danae squared her shoulders, steeled her aching back, and clenched her jaw. It would take more than a nudge of a hand or a jab of the gun to shove her over the edge. She wasn’t budging without a fight. She’d dodged tackles in high school. Surely, she could outsmart and outrun a thirty-year-old-plus stick of a guy who looked like he didn’t know the meaning of exercise.
With renewed energy, she sucked in a deep breath and turned around to face her opponent, eyes swimming, nose running.
Wait a minute! Was that Ryker moving behind David?
She blinked, then refocused, but the marshal wasn’t there. It was just her imagination playing tricks on her. A happy-ever-after mirage.
I will never leave you nor forsake you.
It was her and God against David Andrews.
The odds were stacked against the hiking boots dude.
Hope and joy snuck in and settled around Danae’s heart. And peace squeezed in, making itself right at home.
“Time’s up, fundraiser girl.”
“Not hardly.” She planted her sneakers, hunched her upper body into a defensive linebacker position. Fisted her hands. Braced for contact.
One.
Two.
Three.
“Go, Danae, Go!”
Had she said those words out loud?
“Deputy U.S. Marshals! Put the gun down! Now! Put the gun down!”
Her head jerked up. She peered around David.
Ryker was here! And he brought friends. Thank you, God!
The whites of David’s eyes widened in the darkened room. He roared and kicked one leg out in a lightning
-flash swipe, then turned and fled.
Danae’s legs whipped out from underneath her, and she hit the floor hard, knocking the breath from her lungs. Half the hard surface underneath her fell away. A frigid draft crawled under her jeans and snaked up her legs.
“Oh!” She slipped, only a couple of inches, but enough that now her hips dangled over the edge of the building. She clawed the concrete floor with fingers, scraping, grasping, clinging, unable to gain a grip.
She panted, short frantic breaths, not willing to risk sucking in a huge gulp. Afraid that much oxygen would disturb what delicate balance she had left.
“Hang on, sweetheart.” Ryker’s frantic tone carried from way across the room. A world away.
Teeth clenched in a pallid face, Ryker snaked out his arm and extended his leg. His movements appeared stiff, surreal, like a movie playing out in slow motion. Determination steeled his jaw. Blood soaked his shirt. Again!
Their eyes connected. For a second. Long enough for her to convey what was on her heart. Long enough for him to see clear through to her soul. I love you, Ryker.
She couldn’t hold on much longer. The wind tugged at her legs, and she couldn’t grab onto anything. Danae closed her eyes and braced for the brutal impact. What were the odds of surviving a twenty-story fall onto a concrete sidewalk?
Not good.
Well, she’d embraced life with passion. She would embrace death the same way.
God, I’m coming home. I hope You’ve got my mansion ready because I wasn’t expecting to arrive so soon.
****
Danae loved him.
Ryker read it in her eyes. But there was something else. The same look he’d seen on his grandmother’s face in the airplane.
Resignation. An acceptance that she was going to die.
But he refused to let her go without a fight. His heart plummeted to his toenails.
Andrews whizzed by.
Off to Ryker’s left, Gunner raised his weapon and yelled. “Stop. Right now. Put your gun down.”
A gunshot echoed, ricocheting through the building, hardly breaking through the pulse swishing through Ryker’s head. Footsteps from at least a dozen police officers pounded the floor.
Ryker’s brain registered everything. But that’s all. He didn’t care about any of it.
Not when Danae’s body suspended between life and certain death.
His teeth ground together. His jaw clenched tight. He extended a hand, still too far away, and ignored the pain blasting from his side.
The only thing that mattered was getting to Danae. In time. He wouldn’t consider the alternative.
Fear weighted his shoes, worse than slogging through a lake with waders on. He pounded out four giant steps, pain-blistering, side-ripping steps, and slinked to his belly. Wind and grit, cold air and tears, kept him from focusing. Sweat drenched his palms. How could he pull her up with sweaty hands and not lose his grip?
I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.
A random verse from his one Sunday in church blasted through his brain. God, I can’t save Danae with my own strength or power. But I trust that You can. I need Your help, please.
Refusing to see the bright lights blaring at him, ignoring the chilly gust whipping through his hair, Ryker focused solely on Danae. On her precious face, those soft melt-in-your-mouth chocolate brown eyes, the indentations around her lips where her dimples usually flashed. Oh, such a sweet face!
“Hang on, sweetheart. With God’s help, we’ll get you up in a jif.” He scooted out an inch, then another, careful not to disrupt her balance.
A bird flew in, swooshing by Ryker’s face. He blinked, sucked in a breath of frigid air.
“I can’t, Ryker.” She shook her head, panting, then dropped her face to the floor, defeat and exhaustion triumphant. White knuckles curved into the subfloor, scraped backwards before her fingers loosened, relaxed, resigned. She slid, a slow agonizing slip.
“Not so fast.” Ryker hauled in a huge breath then grabbed Danae’s forearm and wrapped his fingers around it. He wriggled his legs and torso backward, but sweaty palms and a weak middle prevented any substantial progress. He hadn’t regained enough strength from the surgery. Sweat beaded his forehead, drenched his hair, and glided down his neck. It’s not working, Lord. I’m not strong enough. I need help.
A body plunked down beside him. Gunner reached over the side of the building and grabbed the waist of Danae’s jeans. He pulled, growling with every tug.
Other hands grabbed Ryker’s ankles, dragging him backward, away from the terror of losing Danae, away from the blinding lights from downtown Charlotte, away from the panic threatening to tear him apart. Ryker reached for Danae’s other forearm and fastened himself to her with sheer determination, an iron will, and the grace of God.
He held on, eyes blurring against the cold air whipping through the building, but unblinking, totally absorbed in his beloved’s progress until her belly slid across the floor. Her knees came next. Then her shoes.
The pressure from around his ankles released. Confident that Danae was safe, no longer in danger of sliding over the edge, Ryker loosened his grip on her forearms and allowed Gunner to take over. With a final burst, Gunner heaved, throwing himself backward and thrusting Danae farther into the building.
Ryker plunked face-down against the concrete, his strength depleted, his body screaming pain, his spirit whispering thanks.
Thank You, God! I couldn’t have done this without You. Please forgive me for doubting You, for cursing You, for thinking that You’d left me all alone in the world when that really wasn’t the case. You never left me. I’m the one who left You. Please forgive me. Will You give me another chance to start over? To embrace the life You’ve given me. To embrace this precious one You’ve allowed me to share a part of my life with. Free me from my fears to share all of my life with her.
A hand rested against his shoulder. “You okay, buddy?” Gunner’s voice but Ryker didn’t have the strength to lift his head to acknowledge his friend.
“Danae?” Was the sand in his mouth causing his speech to slur?
“She’s safe, buddy. The paramedics are checking her over now. They’re heading this way in just a second.”
“Did you catch him?”
“Yeah. We got him. Wish I could’ve pushed him over the edge instead of into a set of handcuffs.”
Ryker groaned and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think of anybody dying that way, couldn’t even wish it upon the man who’d kicked Danae over the side of a twenty-story building.
“Ryker!”
His eyelids popped open at the feminine squeal. Gunner offered a hand, and Ryker accepted the help to roll over on his back. All he could manage.
Danae dropped to her knees, moisture collecting around her warm brown eyes like simmering coffee. A paramedic guided a stretcher to a stop behind her and rested a hand against the gurney rail, waiting.
Back flat against the cold concrete floor, Ryker opened his arms and Danae came willingly. He wrapped her in his embrace, ignoring the fire burning his side, the pain building momentum in his head.
He held her trembling body against his chest and stroked her silky hair, smiling when she snuggled her face against his neck and planted a soft, sweet kiss there. Or did he only imagine it?
He allowed himself a deep breath. In. Out. Almost back to normal.
Danae. Alive. Safe. Not splattered against the pavement.
He was so tired. Tired of the blinding pain. Piercing sirens. Blaring lights.
Helicopter rotors whipped the air around inside the building, shooting sand all over. Did they plan on landing inside the building? The paramedic’s radio squawked. She leaned down and touched Danae’s shoulder. “Danae, I’m sorry. We really need to get him loaded and on the way to the hospital—”
The hospital? Again?
Danae pulled back from his embrace, her hands cupping his face. She kissed him, first on one cheek, then the other, a promi
se of more to come in her eyes. She rubbed his eyebrows with her thumbs. “Everything will be okay, Ryker. I’ll be with you, but more than that, God will never leave you.”
She turned her head toward the paramedic, her hand resting against his forehead, shielding him from her low voice. “The chopper’s here?”
Chopper? For him? That wasn’t good.
Ryker surrendered the battle to keep his eyes open. He didn’t care about the chopper. Wouldn’t worry about flying or the pints of blood that seeped from his body.
God would be with him, surrounding him with His peace, His comfort. That’s all Ryker needed.
He slipped into oblivion…into Peace.
19
Ryker fought lids, heavy with sleep and probably more pain meds. He won, opening his eyes to a head full of wavy hair cascading across his chest.
He blinked. Opened them again just to be sure they weren’t playing a cruel trick.
Nope. Danae was here. In his hospital room. His dry lips cracked as he forced them into a smile. Ouch! Even his lips hurt. But he didn’t care. “Hey.”
She startled and lifted her head, hair tousled and brown eyes hazy from sleep. “Ryker! You’re awake.”
“Yeah.”
He could only stare, starting at the twin dimples outlining gorgeous full lips, slanted upward on one side, then moving across creamy cheeks to the luscious espresso colored eyes shimmering with zest for life. How had he never noticed how incredibly beautiful she was?
She sat up, lifted the hair from her eyes, and slid off the bed, straightening a blue knit shirt over clean jeans.
Ryker gripped her wrist and tugged her back down to sit on the bed next to him. “Stay. Please.”
Danae nodded and repositioned so that she faced him. “How do you feel?”
He licked dry lips, twining her fingers through his, totally loving the feel of her soft hand in his. “Like they dropped me out of that chopper.”
A tiny smile graced Danae’s face as she held a cup with a straw in front of him. “You survived the chopper ride. Not that you knew anything about it.”
