All I Need

by Christa Conan

Rhone’s brow furrowed as a war of indecision waged over his features. She saw his concern, and her logic, battle for supremacy.

  “You’re not going to like what you see.”

  She reached a hand toward him, then pulled it back, feeling helpless. “I need to see,” she implored.

  Without a word, Doug left Shannen and Rhone alone.

  The tension between them pulled even tauter.

  “Shannen, please, trust me on this.”

  Rhone’s voice held a grainy undercurrent of something she found difficult to identify. Panic?

  “Rhone, this is about my baby.”

  “This isn’t about your baby,” he insisted. “It’s about our child and Jimmy Norton. And how Norton can exact his revenge.”

  “Obviously, he’s doing a good job,” she said hoarsely. “Rhone, you asked me to trust you, but it works both ways—you’ve got to trust me,” she whispered. “You’ve got to believe I’m strong enough to face this.”

  She saw his shudder, felt tension radiate from his body. This was about more than the cabin, more than the kidnapping. It was about their relationship and the reasons it failed the first time.

  Tightly, he nodded.

  Her pulse thudded in response.

  Without another word Rhone moved aside.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly afraid. Shannen heard the constant, if unsteady, draw of Rhone’s breath. She’d asked him to let her be strong. Now she hoped she was equal to the challenge.

  Feeling as though a hand had wrapped around her heart and squeezed, she forced her eyelids apart.

  And what she saw made her stagger back a step.

  In an instant he was there, holding her, wrapping his arms tightly around her, as if the motion could help deaden the ache.

  It couldn’t.

  “He’s sick,” Rhone insisted, the words ringing harshly in her ear.

  He didn’t say, “I told you so,” didn’t offer any recriminations. Instead, he stroked her hair reassuringly while visions of Nicky’s nearly empty bottle flashed through her mind.

  The knife was the worst.

  The silver blade was darkened by rust stains that her tortured brain imagined were really blood.

  She allowed herself to be cradled for a few seconds. Shannen waited for the first wave of agony to pass.

  It didn’t. In fact, it just seemed to hurt worse, not in a debilitating way, but in a mind-numbing, grief-filled way.

  “What does—” she sucked in a shallow breath, looked at him “—this mean?”

  Soundlessly, Rhone reached for the bottle and offered it to her.

  “He’s playing with us, Shannen, wanting us to sweat. It’s an elaborate game to him.”

  “A game?”

  “A combination of hide-and-seek and a scavenger hunt.” Rhone draped his arm across her shoulder; she gratefully accepted the support.

  She ran her finger down the plastic bottle, tracing the raised lettering, as if it could bring her closer to the son she desperately needed to hold in her arms.

  “It’s working, Rhone.” She looked at him, saw the same haunted expression in his eyes she knew hovered in hers.

  For a second, he looked as though he might shut her out, then, opening up, he found the guts to admit, “Yeah, I know.”

  Her breath rushed out. The sight of her husband, normally so strong and brave, now trembling, scared her more than anything she’d endured. “We’ll win, won’t we?”

  “He’ll screw up.”

  Drawing courage from Rhone, tapping into the emotion she swore was strong enough to handle what had happened, what had yet to come, she nodded and asked, “What do we do now?”

  Rhone released her. “Nail the son of a bitch.”

  The radio clipped to Rhone’s belt crackled. Taking Shannen by the wrist, he headed outside. Palming the radio, he responded, “Mitchell here.”

  “We’ve got the abandoned truck,” Sheriff Jenkins stated.

  Shannen’s heart did double time. Nicky was close; she knew it, felt it.

  Brian scribbled down the coordinates the man gave, then Rhone signed off.

  “Let’s move,” Doug said.

  She expected to see a smile of triumph on Rhone’s face. She didn’t. Grim resolve painted him as a stranger once again.

  Suddenly the sound of hideous laughter emitted from the radio Rhone still held. Doug and Rhone exchanged incredulous looks. Shannen fought the urge to scream. The same sound that she’d been forced to listen to in the forest, chilled her again, seeping in and haunting her every thought. The man had her son.

  “Catch me, catch me, catch me if you can.”

  A pulse throbbed in Rhone’s temple.

  “Chicken, Mitchell? Not like the old days, huh? This time you had to bring the entire calvary with you.” He cackled. “Guess you ain’t man enough to face me alone no more.”

  Norton cackled again. “Don’t feel as powerful now that I have your son, huh, Mitchell? How’s it feel to know you’re about to lose someone you love?”

  Shannen’s knees sagged, and she began to weave back and forth as her head swam.

  “You killed my brother.”

  “You can’t know that. No one knows.”

  “I know,” Norton said in a clipped tone. “But I’m willin’ to make a little deal.”

  “No deals.”

  The sound of Nicky’s terrified scream split the air. Shannen couldn’t breathe, and she fell to her knees. Rhone moved behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She struggled to fill her lungs, to accept the comfort Rhone tried to give. Couldn’t. All that consumed her senses was the soul-wrenching sob of her baby.

  “Maa-Maa!”

  Hot tears cascaded down her cheeks.

  “Deal?” Norton taunted.

  Rhone’s succinct curse blended with Doug’s. “Name your terms.”

  Nicky’s sobs stifled, as if Norton had shoved his hand over the tiny mouth.

  “I want you and the woman.”

  “You get me alone.”

  Nicholas screamed again.

  Rhone’s hand tightened on her shoulder; through her own anguish, his was telepathed. She forced herself to nod weakly. Rhone shook his head. Nicky’s cries continued to fill the tense air.

  Finally Rhone relented. When he spoke, his voice was terse, dripping with hatred. “Where and when?”

  Norton silenced their son. “Call off the boys.”

  “Done.”

  “You still a good tracker?”

  Black fog enshrouded her, obliterating everything except the searing heat of desperation.

  “Can hold my own.”

  “Catch me, catch me, catch me if you can.”

  Then, entombing silence shattered her. Norton was gone. Along with her fragile connection to Nicky.

  For long minutes, no one said a word. Shannen’s soft cries were the only haunting sound in the clearing.

  Apparently mindless of the half dozen men surrounding them, waiting for his direction, Rhone knelt in front of her. He took her hands, searched her eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Shan.”

  She fought for control, told herself how much depended on her. Norton meant business. If she didn’t pull herself together, she might never have the opportunity to be with her son again. “I have to.”

  “Listen to me....”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block the terror. “I need to go.” Fear clogged her throat, made it difficult to speak. “Please don’t shut me out.”

  “I can’t anticipate what Norton plans.”

  “It won’t be any easier if I’m here worrying.”

  His sigh sounded as if it worked itself up from the very bottom of his heart. “I guess I’d be wasting time if I ask you to stay.”

  Her breaths burned in her lungs. “Please don’t.”

  They were surrounded by people, yet it felt as though she and Rhone were all alone in the world.

  “I don’t recall that Norton gave us a choice,” she added.


  He glared. Undoubtedly he wanted to argue the point. She appreciated where he was coming from, but there was no other way. “I want my Nicky back. Don’t make me be the reason Norton kills him.” She tried to sound determined, but knew her words were much weaker than she wanted.

  His hands trembled. “He’s an animal.”

  “Then we can outwit him.”

  Rhone released one of her hands, then raked his fingers through his hair. “Ready?”

  While Shannen tried to pull herself together, Rhone began issuing orders, adding that a new command post would be set up at the site of the abandoned truck. To Cox he added, “Make sure Jenkins and his men stay off the radio. The less Norton knows, the better.”

  Doug and Brian insisted on accompanying them as far as possible.

  “Sorry,” Rhone objected. “To do so compromises Nicky’s safety.”

  “Not doing so compromises your safety,” Doug countered. “And Shannen’s.”

  “We’re going alone.”

  Doug shook his head. “We’ll go as far as possible with you. When we get close enough to the rat to smell him, we’ll back off.”

  “Rhone, Doug’s right,” Shannen said.

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “So you let yourself walk into another Norton trap?” Doug challenged.

  Her husband’s face paled.

  “You can’t do it all alone, partner.”

  She shared Rhone’s pain, anguish and the realization Doug was right. Tightly, Rhone gave a brief nod.

  A few minutes later, they arrived at the coordinates Jenkins had given. They met the sheriff there, noting the truck had been left where the road dead-ended. Dense forest and rugged mountains surrounded them.

  “This is going to be a chore,” Brian remarked with a low whistle.

  Doug nodded. Shannen glanced around. Doubts began to eat at her, shaking the small amount of confidence she possessed.

  After sliding her a “chin up” glance, Rhone grabbed his backpack and the weapons he could carry.

  “It isn’t safe to let you all do this,” Sheriff Jenkins stated flatly. With a sweep of his hand, he indicated the various mountains. “You don’t know what he’s got up there.”

  “He’s got my son,” Rhone countered.

  “Know what you mean.” The sheriff released his breath and nodded reluctantly. “Got me two little girls.”

  Brian reached for maps while Doug concentrated on checking out the terrain. After his equipment was ready, Rhone turned to the sheriff. “You know the area,” Rhone said. “Where would you hide?”

  The man scratched his beard. Looked in the distance. “Reckon I’d head to the abandoned mines.”

  “Show me,” Brian instructed, holding a flashlight over the maps he spread across the hood of the Jeep.

  Her hopes plummeted. How Rhone managed to keep going forward stunned her. Made her realize how different she and her husband truly were.

  Rhone moved closer to the Jeep; she followed suit, surprised when Rhone moved behind her so that he looked at the maps over her shoulder.

  “There’s at least four different mines,” she said dejectedly.

  The sheriff nodded. “And there ain’t a one of them that’s safe.”

  “Rhone!” Doug called from where he crouched several feet away.

  “Much obliged for your help,” Rhone told the sheriff.

  “We’ll hold down the fort from here.” The man patted Shannen’s hand. “Best of luck getting your boy back.”

  She managed a tight nod.

  Rhone jogged to Doug’s side. Rhone nodded. She joined them, looking at the area of ground Doug showed Rhone and saw nothing.

  “Tracks. Unmistakable depressions.”

  Try as she might, she couldn’t see them, but both men seemed satisfied. Wordlessly, they gathered their equipment from the duffel bag, Rhone helped Shannen distribute baby supplies into each of their backpacks. He slung one over his shoulders, and helped Shannen do the same.

  “Got it?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He gave a half smile of approval.

  She wasn’t sure exactly how long they hiked, or even if they were traveling in circles. Doug and Rhone stopped periodically, listened, looked at the trees, examined the carpet of pinecones and decaying timber. Twice they reversed their course when no more clues were found.

  Her shoulders ached from the unfamiliar weight of the pack. Night thickened in the forest, making it more difficult to see the canopy of trees obliterating the sky. The men took out their infrared binoculars and pushed on. Shannen’s fear boiled into tangible anger and frustration.

  How dare Jimmy play with them? Act as though this was nothing but an elaborate game for his personal enjoyment? Damn it, this was her life, her son’s life...Rhone’s life.

  “You okay?”

  She glanced back at Rhone, his expression dark, unreadable in the night. His words had reached her from close...closer than she’d thought he was.

  “Is that backpack too heavy?”

  “It’s fine.” She’d automatically lowered her voice to match the pitch of his.

  Obviously—with astuteness she wished he’d shown when they lived together, trying to make an infant marriage work—he’d picked up on her mood. “Talk to me Shannen,” he encouraged.

  “I’m mad, Rhone, madder than hell.”

  “Yeah. I know how you feel.” He fell in step next to her, then grabbed her elbow and pulled her down a few inches when a branch threatened to slap her face. “Don’t let it eat you, babe. It’ll consume you until there’s nothing left.”

  “The voice of experience again.” She knew bitterness tinged her voice, but couldn’t help it. She was mad, hurt, angry. And desperate for this whole thing to be over.

  He didn’t respond.

  After several silent seconds, he released her, dropping back a couple of feet behind her.

  The thrum of tension surrounded her, making her jump every time a night noise tore at the air.

  A few minutes later, he promised, “We’ll stop for the night soon.”

  She nodded, then realized Rhone probably couldn’t see the motion. A few minutes turned into an hour or more. Her thigh muscles constricted agonizingly and her feet hurt where the unforgiving leather of her boots rubbed her skin raw.

  Then, as if by unspoken accord, Doug and Rhone stopped, Brian joining them from his position in the rear. The dim glow from a lantern barely helped her make out shapes of trees, but the three men acted as though it was high noon. Efficiently, Doug unzipped one of the packs and handed sandwiches to everyone.

  She said a soft thanks, realizing her stomach protested the fact they’d been on the run without stopping to eat. Hastily she pulled the sandwich from its wrapper and bit into it. Shannen grimaced as soggy bread met expectant taste buds. None of the men seemed to notice. Or care.

  She forced herself to chew and swallow several bites before rewrapping the remains and tossing them into a small grocery bag. The food was bad, she admitted that, but worse were the knots in her stomach that had made it difficult to eat much of anything the past few days. She knew she’d already lost a few pounds—the looseness at the waist of her jeans was indication of that.

  Doug rooted fruit from the pack and offered her an apple. Shaking her head, she wandered a few feet away, wrapping her arms around her middle, as much to ward off overwhelming worry about Nicky as to keep warm.

  In an instant, Rhone stood beside her. She hadn’t heard his approach.

  He shrugged from his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, the subtly intoxicating scent of him clinging to the material.

  “This is nothing new to you, is it?” she asked, oddly hollow now that she was in his world.

  “Old hat.”

  It was no wonder she and Rhone had difficulty making their relationship work, if he felt as alien in her world as she did in his.

  “It gets old, Shannen,” he commented, as if reading her mind. Rhone moved
behind her, folding his arms around her and pulling her back against him.

  She unlocked her arms, then placed her palms on his forearm, his flannel shirt warm against her hands.

  “You get tired of looking behind every bush, wondering if someone’s hiding high in the treetops, waiting to drop on you.”

  Doug glanced in their direction, then set about making up a makeshift camp.

  “I need to help,” she said, any distraction better than listening to the night sounds and imagining all the things that could be happening to Nicky.

  “You need to relax,” Rhone countered, tightening his hold on her.

  “But...”

  “Doug and Brian have it covered. Remember, it’s old hat to Doug, too.”

  “Are you saying I’d be in the way?”

  “There’s that possibility.”

  He slackened the hold a little, but she didn’t take the opportunity to bolt. Instead, she leaned her head back against his shoulder, able to hear the steady beat of his heart.

  “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she admitted.

  “You’re strong, Shannen. You keep proving it.”

  “I always thought so. I thought being married to you showed my strength.”

  “Ouch.”

  Shannen almost felt his wince. “That’s not what I meant,” she said. “It was hell, Rhone. At least I thought it was, wondering if you were coming back to me, never knowing if you were dead or alive. But this...”

  “Go on.”

  His arms had tightened around her again. She felt the strength of his chest, of his grip. She felt safe and protected. And never more frightened in her life. “I realized I couldn’t live like that, that it would be less painful to try and cut you out of my heart.”

  Shannen wondered if he realized how hard he now held her. “I couldn’t,” she admitted, the words wrung from her very depths. “I tried to go on with life, but I wasn’t living. Not really. I was functioning, making a new home, but there was always a hollow, empty feeling where you’d lived inside me.”

  She felt him bury his face in her hair, felt the warmth of his kiss on her crown.

  She turned to face him, stroking her fingertips down the side of his cheek in unspoken apology. “I’m scared, Rhone, more frightened than I’ve ever been about anything in my life.”

  Rhone captured her wrist, stilling her movements.