Surviving the Storm

by Heather Woodhaven

  “Take it easy,” Kirill cautioned. “You’ve had enough. That should’ve taken the edge off.” He opened a first-aid kit.

  Robert slammed down the bottle with a big exhale. He turned toward the women, but only had eyes for Valentina. “Is he dead? The man who shot me?”

  Aria’s lips trembled, and she fought to keep the tears back. She could really use her emotional armor right now, but it didn’t seem to be working.

  Valentina nodded. “He’s not going anywhere.”

  “Good,” Kirill said.

  “If you hadn’t killed him already, I would’ve,” Robert shouted.

  Kirill ignored his boss’s rant and wrapped several layers of gauze around Robert’s forearm. “Almost done,” Kirill said. “It’s going to need a doctor’s attention, though. You might need a tetanus shot after that nail.”

  “Put Dominic on standby. He can take a look at the wound as soon as we get back. Assuming the highway will be passable soon. Otherwise, they will send a boat as soon as it is safe.”

  “Still no phone service,” Valentina interjected.

  “Phone,” Robert growled. “That’s right. Check her phone. Let’s see who she claims to have been texting.”

  Valentina rifled through Aria’s purse and pulled out her cell phone. She didn’t look at it but thrust it toward the men.

  Robert took the phone with his good hand. He tapped the screen and clicked the power button a couple of times with him thumb before he threw it to the ground. “Of course.” He looked at Aria, rage in his eyes. “Surprise, surprise. It’s dead. As you will be if you don’t tell me where you’ve put the evidence.” Robert wrenched away from Kirill’s tending. A dangling piece of gauze hung over the edge of his arm. Robert grabbed Aria’s arm and squeezed tight. His fingers dug into Aria’s triceps. She inhaled sharply and jutted her chin up toward the ceiling.

  “You, my dear, are going to be in a lot of pain until the evidence is in my hands. And then it won’t matter who you’ve told about the evidence, once it’s already been destroyed.”

  Aria’s steel reserve broke. She just didn’t care anymore. What good would it do? He would still win. That much was obvious. “It’s back at the other vacation rental.”

  He eased up on his grip and raised an eyebrow. “The place you stopped and stole clothes and food?” He laughed in her face. “Yes, I know you were there. Good. This is good.” He shoved Aria back. She stumbled into Valentina, only causing Robert to smile more. He turned to Kirill. “It’s not far from here. Let’s go.”

  Inside the garage sat the familiar silver Hummer. Kirill took the wheel and within minutes they were on the road. Valentina held a gun at her side, but it was loose in her fingers.

  Aria studied her. She still believed her first instinct—Valentina had been crushed by George’s death; she had loved the man. So she must have reached the level of desperation to be number one in George’s life if she was willing to place him in danger. It reminded Aria that the Bible said love was not self-serving.

  Aria slumped in her seat. How could she judge Valentina when she had wanted something similar herself? Aria had wanted a love that held no risks, no sacrifice. She saw now what she really wanted was a love that was self-serving.

  She dropped her chin to her chest. If only she could do it all over again. She was facing her own death, despite attempts to find a life without pain or remembrance of things that caused heartache. She had never been in control, despite all her self-assurances that she was choosing a better path in life.

  Please forgive me, Lord. I was mad at You so I stopped seeking You. I stopped putting my hope in You. Please heal my heart. I want to be wise, but I also want to trust in You. If it’s not too late, help me see a way out of this mess. Help me put one foot in front of the other, because I don’t think I can go on alone. My heart is broken. I need You.

  TWENTY-ONE

  David’s mind raced as he snuck up the steps on the back deck. He pressed against the siding next to the back door. He overheard Robert’s threats and Aria admit where the evidence was stored. He wanted to yell at her to stop so she wouldn’t give away their only bargaining tool, but he couldn’t reveal his whereabouts yet. Not until he could think of a plan. The moment he heard the door to the garage close, he slipped open the back door and entered the kitchen.

  A first-aid kit with gauze and a bloodied nail brad sat in the middle of the counter top. He cringed with the knowledge that he caused someone such pain but he was also sure the man would’ve killed him if he hadn’t. Besides, he was sure a nail gun injury would heal a lot faster than the bullet wounds in his shoulder and ear.

  David fingered the ball of gauze. If he took a minute to stop the blood loss, that’d probably work in his favor in the long run. He rolled it diagonally around his head so that it covered his ear but would hold without medical tape—of which he had none. He kept his eye on the door connecting the kitchen to the garage, in case they had forgotten something.

  There was a gaping wound in the front of his shoulder. Since he was certain the bullet had entered from the back that meant it had ripped right through him. So there was a bullet loose in the construction area. He made a mental note to come back and find it, should they need it for evidence.

  David took another roll of gauze and wrapped his shoulder the best he could, but it was a challenge with only one arm. He almost passed out from the pain when he tried to apply pressure. His dentist was likely to have some cracks to repair given how hard he gritted his teeth in the process.

  Finally, he grabbed two travel packs of extra-strength acetaminophen from the kit, ripped open their wrappings and gulped the pills down without liquid. He was doubtful it’d do much good once the adrenaline wore off, but he hoped it would be better than nothing.

  This house didn’t have a fancy permanent generator. The lights were out. David smirked. If Aria were here, she’d have written a note to the owners apologizing for the window—no doubt leaving his phone number to come replace it—and warning them of the dangers of mildew without a generator. And it would’ve driven him nuts. It also would’ve made him laugh. Oh, how he loved that girl. And he needed to get her back...now.

  He heard an engine start. The Hummer. David snuck through the living room and flattened his back against the door, so he could listen through the broken window. As he heard tires crunch onto the road, he dared a peek. The silver Hummer was disappearing into the forest. And if Aria handed over the location of the flash drive, he had no doubt what would follow.

  David ran to the garage door. He used his phone light, although its beam flickered from low battery. Hold on just a little longer. He strode into the garage and found only a mountain bike against the wall. So disappointing. It’d be almost impossible riding with his bad arm, although it’d be faster than trying to catch up to the Hummer on foot.

  He shuffled through the items on the garage shelves. Fishing gear. He flipped open the tackle box and instantly found what he was looking for...a small serrated knife used for cleaning fish. If the owner was a true fisherman, David knew it’d be the sharpest tool in the house. He kept the safety guard on and slipped it in his pocket. Shiny metal next to it caught his eye. A Master Lock. He frowned. In a jam, it might have a use. He moved on, his mind tallying everything he’d seen in the garage.

  David unsheathed the fishing knife and made his way to a hiking backpack he spotted hanging on the wall next to the bicycle. He sliced through the bungee cord material that weaved in an elaborate zigzag on the outside. It turned out to be one long cord, suited to his purpose.

  He picked up the Master Lock and let it rest in his right palm—the one that caused him excruciating pain if he used it—as he set his left hand to work. He weaved and wrapped over and over until he had completed the monkey-fist knot over the lock. The knife had given him the idea.

  Professional fish
ermen used to be fond of monkey-fist knots over weighted ball bearings. They used them as small anchors—the only problem being accidents happened too frequently. Fishermen would throw the weighted lines and unsuspecting crewmembers would try to catch them. The wrapped steel would pack a punch and seriously injure someone’s hand or foot. In David’s case, he would use it only if he had to keep them from hurting Aria.

  Without electricity, there was no use trying the garage opener. The mechanism was already unlocked due to the men in the Hummer. At least that worked to his advantage. He’d never have been able to reach the red lever hanging from the ceiling.

  David bent down and pulled on the door, grunting from the sudden throbbing in his shoulder. He couldn’t afford to waste another minute. He screamed through the pain as the door finally opened. The smell of the pine soothed him, as it made him think of Christmas and family and love...and Aria. He had to save her, even if they had no chance together. He needed to be there for her.

  He swung a leg over the bike when another glint of metal caught his eye. Inside the side pocket of the hiking backpack was a long tube. A spray of some sort with a picture of a growling bear. He slipped it out of its holding and his nose tingled just thinking of the pain bear spray could inflict on someone, but he’d take it just in case. The pulsing in his forehead caused a painful sensation behind his eyes. He took a deep breath and he started to see spots on the farther edges of his vision. Lord, please help me not pass out. Keep Aria safe. Help police find a way here. Also, if You could keep black bears out of my way tonight, it’d be appreciated.

  Something nagged at the corner of his mind. He looked back into the garage, worried he might have forgotten something. It was so organized, so pristine. The bear spray had been in the backpack, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

  “I wonder,” he mumbled, and leaned over to unzip the hiking backpack. Inside were bottles of electrolyte replacement and granola bars. He moaned in relief.

  “Blessed be the prepared hikers, Lord,” he said aloud.

  He chugged half a bottle of the chilled liquid, thanks to the January coastal temperatures. His taste buds didn’t register the lemon-lime flavor until he was finished. He stuffed the bar in the pocket of his cheek, not wanting to waste another second. He could chew as he rode.

  Unless Aria managed to divert them in route, she was leading the men back to the house where she’d stashed the evidence. David would need to stay on the main roads if he were to make good time. With a final breath, he pushed his legs into motion, the movement causing his shoulder to throb double-time. If he wasn’t able to get them out of this situation soon, he wasn’t going to be any good to anyone. He’d be dead.

  * * *

  It registered that the men were talking in the front seat but Aria wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying. She was too busy straining her mind to figure out a solution. Despite her utter defeat, she wasn’t ready to die. Her mother needed her and wouldn’t be able to handle Aria’s death.

  Aria warred between giving them the evidence and facing the consequences of torture to fighting back somehow...but with what? Her peripheral vision told her that Valentina, slack-mouthed and staring out the window, was back in her comatose state of mourning. If Aria had more time, perhaps she could convince Valentina to see reason, but they weren’t alone now and she couldn’t envision a scenario where the gunmen would allow such discussion.

  If she could take Valentina off guard, maybe she stood a chance. One thing she felt certain. Those men would never find the flash drive if she didn’t give up the location, and for a reason she couldn’t pinpoint, she felt that fact would have made her dad, George, and David proud.

  The Hummer pulled into the driveway. She cooperated with the men and walked in front of Valentina as they led the way around the side of the house. Valentina held the gun loosely, lazily. Aria was tempted to take it by force, but there was no place to run if she did. Six feet to the left was a steep drop-off and every other direction was either locked houses—she no longer had her purse full of credit cards to help—or gunmen. Her odds were dismal.

  They entered the living room where only hours ago she had kissed David. She choked on a sob. She wished that their last interchange hadn’t been full of heated accusations. It was a cowardly way to end a conversation, let alone a relationship. She could never ask for his forgiveness. The tears won.

  Robert spun around and examined her. “There will be less crying if you show us the evidence.”

  She lifted her chin and gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering. “Because I’ll be dead faster?”

  He raised an eyebrow and stared at her for a moment. Then he laughed, as if her question was a joke. He lifted his hands, the gun cradled in his palm. “Why do you think I want to kill you? Do I look like a man who enjoys killing? No.”

  His questions deserved a sarcastic response, perhaps something cutting, about a gun in everyone’s hands but her own, but she held her tongue. Time was her only ally, despite not having any assurances the authorities were getting any closer to reaching her.

  Robert took a step closer so his nose was only an inch from her face. “I only use weapons when forced.” He looked straight into her eyes. She tried her best to win the staring contest, but his breath reeked. She turned her face away for a moment. He grinned, pleased with her response, then straightened. “So do not force me, kotyonok.”

  Aria had suspected, but wasn’t sure, that English was his second language, until he used a foreign term. She wanted to know what he had called her but she figured that was why he did it. He wanted her to ask. This was a game to him.

  Robert pursed his lips and looked between her and Valentina. “We will take a look around,” he said. “Make sure there are no surprise visitors waiting for us. Explain to her.” Robert narrowed his eyes and glanced her way. “After that, there is no more waiting. Kirill has itchy fingers.”

  An involuntary shiver went up Aria’s spine at Robert’s last sentence. Kirill wouldn’t be nice, she was sure of it. The moment the men rounded the corner she turned to Valentina. She had a better grip on the gun now, and was more alert since Robert’s threat. “What do you need to explain to me?”

  Valentina shrugged. “I’m not sure. They assume I think like they do, but I don’t. I would prefer not to see you shot, Aria, so tell them where you hid the evidence. They won’t be patient with you. Kirill was very angry, especially with you. His burns still hurt. He won’t be nice. He’ll make you suffer. Robert is unpredictable. He called you his kitten, but that doesn’t mean much.”

  “Back at the other house you seemed sure they wouldn’t kill you. Why?”

  Her eyes widened. “We’re family...extended family.”

  Aria thought about her first name and Kirill... Russian, as well? Hadn’t David mentioned similar scams running through the Russian mob? “You can’t really guarantee they won’t kill me, can you?”

  Valentina’s lower lip trembled. “Just do what they say. It’s your best chance.”

  Kirill walked back into the living room, his gun pointed at her. Robert was one step behind him. “The waiting is over.”

  Aria held her breath, hoping to build up courage. She’d need it more than ever to make her plan work.

  TWENTY-TWO

  David veered the bike onto the driveway next door to the blue house. He leaped off the bike and jogged to the side of the generator. He’d been debating his move the entire bike ride over. It helped him keep the focus off his burning lungs, legs and shoulder.

  He ran to one of the windows he knew was part of the back bedroom, right behind the den. David slipped off the sheath of the fish fillet knife. After a steadying breath, he shoved the sharp blade between the top and bottom halves of the window, directly in the center. It slipped in easier than he imagined.

  With his good hand, he wiggled the kni
fe back and forward until the tip was touching the middle of the inside latch. He let go of the handle for one moment, then slapped it downward. The metal popped upward. The latch lifted up and over but only three-quarters of the way. So it was mostly unlocked, but not all the way. He removed the knife. Brute force was his only shot at getting the window open now. Only problem was his left shoulder was weaker than the right, and he still needed to be quiet. The element of surprise was his only hope.

  The window gave way with a good shove from the heel of his left hand, but the screen still needed to be popped out. It was slow, methodical work that in reality only took two minutes, but to David it seemed like a lifetime. His intense workout schedule was saving him, and never had he been so glad for the discipline as it took a great deal of strength, especially with only one working arm, to lift himself up. He twisted his torso and maneuvered his way through the window.

  David strained to hear voices. He heard a man mumbling and a female voice answering. He crossed the room and pressed his ear against the wall. Please don’t let me be too late, Lord. The voices were on the move.

  He put the knife in his right hand. The blade was slightly bent near the handle, but the serrated portion was still sharp. In an emergency, he knew he could throw it or use it for self-defense, but he hoped his homemade weapon would do the trick.

  He slipped the wrapped lock from his pocket and dropped the weighted cord down to his side, taking care to ensure he had good grip on the end. He peeked out the doorway. The coast was clear. He stepped onto the wooden hallway floor.

  * * *

  “You win. As I’ve already told you, it’s in this house,” Aria said.

  “And you are stalling,” Robert announced, a smug grin on his face.

  “Pardon me if I’m scared,” she snapped. “I think I’m entitled. I’m not used to being held at gunpoint by a man who clearly wants to shoot me.”

  “Kirill, lower your weapon,” Robert ordered. “Now, see? This is just a business transaction. You tell me where the evidence is, and you will get to walk away. I’ll let you run and hide somewhere else until the waters recede.”