Celia shot a rueful look her way and tried to reply in a strong voice. “I’m so sorry that I brought this into your home.”
“You didn’t. I volunteered.”
“What?”
“When my son brought yours down to the cafeteria, I knew straight away that I—that we—were meant to help you. So I volunteered. No woman and child should have to go through what you’re going through.” Wendy paused, then nodded. “I can see from your face that Remo told you why I feel so strongly about it.”
Celia nodded. “He did.”
The other woman studied her for a moment. “My son is an excellent paramedic and the kindest man I know. Bit of a hero complex, but I’m proud of who he is. And he’s always been too good at holding things in. I’ve been waiting five years for him to open up. If he does that with you...then count me in for all of it.”
By the end of the short speech, a lump had built up in the back of Celia’s throat, but she didn’t get a chance to clear and answer, because Remo reappeared just then, shaking his head.
“I checked the front,” he said. “One unmarked car, sitting three houses up. Driver sat there for a second on his phone, but he’s getting out now. Headed our way. I think he and the guy in the back are trying to box us in. We’ve got about sixty seconds to come up with a plan.”
His mother jumped in right away. “You can go out through the window in my en suite. It’s big enough. And there’s a space about four feet wide between the houses. If you head toward the front, a shrub blocks you in the whole way. I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to sneak onto the porch from there. I can text Danny’s mom to let her know to expect you.”
Celia noted that Wendy hadn’t included herself in the suggestion, and the omission didn’t get by Remo, either.
“You mean ‘we,’ Mom,” he said. “We can go through the window.”
She gave him a look Celia knew well—the no-argument mom stare—and shook her head. “My car’s in the driveway, and my neighbors know I’m home. It’s safer and less suspicious for me to answer the door and play dumb.”
Remo’s jaw set stubbornly, but Wendy was quick to speak again.
“Your sixty seconds are down to thirty,” she told him. “And you’ve got a little boy waiting next door. My pepper spray and I can handle this.”
Remo muttered something about stubbornness under his breath, then pulled his mom in for a quick kiss on the cheek.
“We’ll be back for you,” he promised.
Then he grabbed Celia’s hand. He tugged her from the kitchen to the hall, then into the master suite. It was the kind of room she would normally have taken a few minutes to appreciate. As it was, she barely had time to note the basics. Hardwood floors and a cozy nook with a reading chair. A built-in, floor-to-ceiling bookshelf and a big window with the blinds drawn. Remo pulled her past it all and into the spacious bathroom. He barely paused before stepping around the toilet and sliding up the window.
“I’ll go first to make sure it’s clear,” he said, stepping up onto the closed lid. “If anything goes wrong—”
She cut him off. “It won’t go wrong. It can’t.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t do it. He just bent down, pressed his mouth to hers, then turned and used his long legs to climb through the window frame. There was a soft rattle on the other side, and Celia knew his feet had hit gravel. She held her breath, and mentally crossed her fingers for his safety. And after a moment, his voice carried up through the window.
“You’re good to go,” he said. “And Mom was right. There’s complete coverage from curious eyes out here.”
Exhaling, Celia climbed with the intention of following the same motions he had—one leg, then the other, a quick grab of the frame overhead, and a jump out. But as soon as she got up onto the toilet, she realized she didn’t have the same height advantage. She was going to need to get a bit higher, and there was only one place to do it. Up on the tank.
With a slight cringe at the anticipated instability, she grabbed hold of the window ledge and boosted herself up. The ceramic tank lid immediately wobbled in protest, and at the same time, a doorbell chimed loudly from elsewhere in the house.
“Celia?” Remo called, his voice tinged with concern.
“I’m coming,” she replied.
But she got only one foot up and out before realizing she had a problem. She couldn’t quite lift herself up enough to bring the other foot through, too. She was stuck straddling the bottom of the window with her torso still in the bathroom.
“Duck through and jump,” Remo urged.
“I’ll fall face-first,” she whispered.
“I’ll catch you.”
“I mentioned my fear, right?”
“Of heights, not of falling,” he reminded her. “We’re on the first floor, remember?”
“I think it’s psychological,” she replied.
“You’re only six feet up.” She felt his hand land on her ankle. “See? When you jump out, it’ll be straight into my arms. Win-win.”
His fingers dropped away, but the reassurance that they were there—that he was there—lingered enough that Celia felt a little more confident. And a new motivation propelled her, anyway. She could hear Wendy talking to someone in the house, and their voices were far closer than was comfortable. With Remo’s touch held in her mind, she bent herself in half like a contortionist, then more or less dived through the window. As promised, she landed against the big man’s chest, his strong arms stopping her from even touching the gravel under her feet.
“Good?” he asked, setting her down, but not releasing her.
“Still breathing,” she confirmed.
He planted a quick kiss on her lips, then dropped his hand to hers and said, “Okay. Let’s go get that kid of yours.”
Even though they were hidden from view, they moved in unison to press their backs to the exterior of the house, and maneuvered cautiously toward the bushes that blocked the way to the front yard. The closer they got, the quieter they got, too. Being out of sight didn’t mean being out of hearing range.
When they reached the thick greenery, Remo put his finger to his lips, then pointed to the narrow space where the shrubs wrapped around the neighbor’s porch. Celia nodded, but her heart was racing. She made herself let go of his hand in spite of her trepidation, and watched as he crept forward, then slipped in between the tall bush and the house next door. She started a slow count to ten—one one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand—and tried to stave off the fear that the man in Wendy’s house would see Remo in spite of the cover. She hit ten one-thousand, and silence still reigned. She bit her lip to keep from calling to him, and started the count over again. She willed him to be safe and hurry at the same time, then immediately followed that with a prayer that the two things weren’t mutually exclusive.
When she hit nine one-thousand a second time, tears threatened. She wasn’t sure she could make it through the count once more without going after him.
C’mon, Remo.
Then, as though the direct thought prompted it, the bushes in front of her shuddered, then parted, and the big man’s body pushed back into view. And he wasn’t alone. Xavier was glued to his side, fear evident in the way his lower lip trembled. It made Celia want to cry, too. Even more so when he pulled from Remo’s grasp and stepped toward her, silent, but with his arms outstretched. She bent down and lifted him up, folding his familiar little body against her. When his skinny arms snaked around her neck, grasping her tightly, it was almost impossible to keep the tears in.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered.
He squeezed her even harder, and she wished like crazy that she could just magically whisk him away. But she had to settle for meeting Remo’s eyes instead, sending him a silent query as to what their next move would be. In response, he put his hand on Xavier’s
back for a moment, then pointed toward the rear of the house. Celia nodded her understanding, then turned without setting down her son, and started to move in the direction he’d indicated. But she made it only halfway along before Remo touched her elbow and stopped her from going any farther.
“Hold on for one second,” he said in a low voice.
She stopped and faced him again. “What’s wrong?”
He eyed Xavier like he was weighing what to say, then replied, “Small problem. The two men my mom saw are decoys.”
“Decoys for what?”
“A third man who’s stationed up the street, trying to look inconspicuous. Possibly a fourth one in the alley, too. I think the guy behind the house and the guy at the door let themselves be seen on purpose to try to lure us out.”
Celia’s pulse tripped. “So what are our options?”
“Mom said the backyard vantage point worked in her favor,” Remo said. “She could see the car and the driver, but she doubted he could see her, and she was sure he couldn’t see the boys on the trampoline. So our best bet—our only one, really—is to go through Mom’s backyard and into the neighbor’s, then keep going until we come out at the opposite end of the street. That route should steer us clear of where they think we’ll be, and we can decide what to do from there.”
The word should didn’t exactly bolster Celia’s confidence. But she nodded anyway. Because as Remo had said, there wasn’t really a choice.
* * *
Remo didn’t blame Celia for being worried. It was sheer luck that he’d spotted the man out front. A few seconds later and he wouldn’t have noticed him as he slipped behind the large oak at the end of the street. A few seconds earlier and the guy might not have stepped into view and fixed his unwavering gaze in the direction of the house, drawing attention to the fact that his stare was a little too focused.
The seconds-long study Remo had done of the man had made his gut churn. It was long enough to note a couple of things. Like the bulge of a gun under his jacket, and the easy authority in his stance in spite of the fact that he was clearly hiding. He was a cop. Remo was sure of it. Undoubtedly one of Teller’s men. So Remo was damned thankful for the fortuitous timing, and sure as hell wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He had to get Celia and Xavier to safety, then decide what to do to help his mom.
One thing at a time, he told himself. If anyone can handle themselves, it’s her.
That much was definitely true. His mom was as tough as they came, and if a couple corrupt cops thought they could manipulate her, they had another think coming. It made him smile to imagine. Maybe he would’ve even laughed a little if lives hadn’t been hanging in the balance.
Worry spiking at the mental reminder, Remo pressed his hand to the small of Celia’s back, then silently indicated that they should turn to their left. He crouched a little as they moved from behind the bushes and out into the yard. The fence was a full six feet high, but he was four inches taller than that, and he wasn’t taking any chances that the top of his head would give them away.
He pushed on, carefully unlatching the gate between his mom’s place and the neighbor’s. He opened it only as far as he had to in order for them to slip through, then made sure it shut silently behind them. They sneaked past the trampoline to the next fence, then out to the next yard. By the time they’d reached the fourth yard, Celia was breathing hard, and Remo kicked himself for not offering to take Xavier from her right away.
He tapped her shoulder, held out his arms, and opened his mouth to make the suggestion. His words died before they formed, though, because over Celia’s shoulder he spied a bit of movement between the slats of the fence. Making a quick, keep-silent gesture, he inched forward for a closer look.
Let it be a cat. Or a kid.
But it wasn’t either. Instead, it was another man, this one in a suit. He stood with his back against a garage directly across the alley, one leg bent up. Though he had a phone in his hand, his eyes were very clearly roaming the space near Remo’s mom’s backyard.
Dammit.
One creak. One bumped rock. One tiny sound of any sort, and the man’s attention would turn their way.
Hoping for another stroke of luck, and racking his brain for a way to create his own in case one didn’t naturally present itself, Remo very slowly and very quietly swung his gaze back and forth in search of an idea. He didn’t get a chance to form one. Celia was quicker. Clutching Xavier to her chest, she bent down, snagged a golf-ball-sized rock from somewhere near her feet, then stood. Faster than it took Remo to clue in to what she was doing, she drew back her arm and tossed the stone in the other direction. It sailed silently through the air—above the waiting cop’s sightline, thank God—then cracked hard against the ground just outside Remo’s mom’s yard. A perfectly placed shot. And it had the desired effect. The cop didn’t just turn his attention that way, he pushed up from his spot against the garage and took off toward it at a jog.
If Remo had thought they had a second to spare, he would’ve tugged Celia in for a thorough, thankful kiss. As it was, all he had time to do was relieve her of her son so she could move more easily. He reached out for the little boy, who seemed perfectly content to settle against Remo instead of his mother, then pointed toward the next house. And then they were on the move again, faster this time, but with no less regard for keeping quiet.
Thanking the universe for the fact that no nosy neighbors seemed to note their movements, Remo led the way through yards five and six. Then through yards seven and eight. At yard nine—the final one before they’d be on their way—Remo paused and realized they had a small challenge. Though every other yard had a side gate, this corner lot had one only on the alley side.
Gritting his teeth, he handed Xavier back to Celia. “One sec.”
He slipped to the other side of the yard and took a peek around. The fence was a dead end. He made his way back to Celia and shook his head.
“We’re going to have to go that way,” he whispered, with a nod toward the back gate.
Celia gave her lower lip a nervous little suck, but nodded. Remo gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, then moved forward and cautiously opened the gate. He took a very slow, very careful look up and down the alley. The side closest to them was clear. But the other...not so much. Just outside Remo’s mom’s place, the man Celia had so cleverly distracted was engaged in a visibly heated discussion with another guy, presumably the one from the car his mother had noted.
Remo drew his head back into the yard and hazarded a whisper. “Company’s still out there. We can wait and see what happens, or we can slip out and make a run for it. Move low and quick along the outside of the fence.”
Celia met his eyes, and he expected her to pick the former. Instead, she said, “On the count of three?”
He couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. “Really?”
She answered in a quick, sure voice. “I know it’s risky, but it’s not like staying here is totally safe, either. A neighbor will eventually notice us and give us away. Or call the police and give Teller a legitimate reason to chase us. And at least this way, those guys out there don’t know that we know they’re here. Right now, they’re trying to flush us out quietly.”
“As long as you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
He put a hand on Xavier’s back. “You want to ride with me, buddy?”
The kid turned and stretched out his arms, and Remo took him from his mom and settled him against his hip, then reached for Celia’s hand.
“One,” he said softly.
“Two,” she replied.
“Three,” piped up Xavier in his own little whisper.
And they went for it.
Chapter 16
In spite of the fact that it was her own decision to run, Celia still managed to play out the worst-case scenarios in her head.
Getting caught.
Getting killed.
Losing Xavier.
Losing her mind.
She didn’t take risks where her son was concerned. Not at all. And the bottom line was that this particular escape left them exposed, and as short as the exposure was, it was more than enough time for the arguing men to turn their way. So her pulse thumped hard, and the five-second dash took a lifetime, and her head repeated the worries in her heart.
Caught.
Killed.
Xavier.
Her mind.
But they made it. Or Celia assumed they did, because there was no outcry of recognition. No thunder of pursuit. They rounded the corner and kept going. She couldn’t have estimated how far or how long they ran, but she was sure it wasn’t anywhere near as long as it felt. She had no clue if they were drawing unwanted attention, or if they had a destination. She just pumped her legs. At some point, she and Remo had separated their hands so that they could move faster. But now her quads and calves were growing leaden, and she was thankful that Xavier was in Remo’s arms. Houses flashed by. Street names were a blur. Maybe they went five blocks, maybe ten. At last, just when she wasn’t sure she could take another step, Remo slowed, then came to a stop. Celia bent over, her breath coming in gasps.
“Mom?” Xavier’s voice was full of worry.
She lifted her face to reassure him, but words failed her when she spied her son’s stance. He was standing beside Remo, one of his little hands folded into the big man’s palm. Although she’d seen them together a few times now, this was somehow different. They were...united. It was the only word she could think of to describe them. They wore matching expressions of concern, and all of it was directed at her. It made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.
“You can both stop looking at me like that,” she finally managed to say, her voice punctuated by a few more heavy breaths. “I’m more than aware that I’m a little out of shape.”
First Responder on Call Page 16
