by Ladew, Lisa
Emma’s mouth dropped open. “Four billion dollars…” she repeated, unable to understand how kidnapping her would get this guy that much money.
He nodded bitterly. “I thought that would shut you up. Maybe you’d kidnap someone too for that much money.”
Emma shook her head. “Never,” she whispered, her mind still reeling.
The man swayed on his feet, but stayed upright. The color drained from his face though and Emma thought he might throw up. He waited a moment before speaking again, then pressed on when he seemed to have himself under control. “Yeah, that’s cuz you don’t know what it’s like to be dirt fucking poor, only eating one meal a day, if that, being constantly carted through the welfare system and homeless half of your childhood.”
Emma shook her head softly. “Someone didn’t do his homework,” she said, thinking about her childhood in and out of foster homes. Not the good ones, either.
He stared at her appraisingly, his eyes giving away nothing. “So if your dad died and left four billion dollars just floating out in space and no one knew it was rightfully yours, you wouldn’t do anything you could to get your hands on it?”
Emma winced. “If it came from my dad, I’d do anything I could to make sure not one penny of it came to me. I wouldn’t want it. I’d give it away.”
Emma could tell right away she’d said the wrong thing. A variety of emotions passed over the guy’s face. Disbelief. Anger. Rejection. Incredulity. “No fucking way,” he finally spit out. “I don’t believe you.” His color was back, high on his cheeks, his anger making his face flush brightly.
“You don’t know my dad,” she said under her breath, a sudden conviction stealing over her that maybe he did. Her eyes examined him in a new light. Sapphire-blue eyes like her own. A long face and high cheekbones like JT. Could they be related to this guy? Is that what this was all about?
“I hate to break it to you, Little Miss Perfect,” the bad guy spit out, advancing towards her. “But I do know your dad, in fact, he’s my dad too. In further fact, on the night that I was going to introduce myself to him and be welcomed into his home and his life, you fucking killed him.”
Emma held up her free hand to ward off the blow that she was afraid was coming, but he stopped a few feet from her. She slowly dropped her hand, staring at him in disbelief. “I didn’t kill him. He killed himself. Shot himself in front of me.”
“So you say,” Mr. Bad Guy spat out. “I heard you though.” His voice raised as though he were mimicking a woman talking. ” Uh, Senator. I don’t know how to say this, but, uh, my name is Emma Hill and I have DNA results that suggest you’re my father.”
Emma gaped at him, unable to get her mind around what was happening. That had been over a year ago. And he remembered it word for word? He’d been there?
“If you heard me, then you heard what he said to me too, you heard that he insisted he was unable to have children and that there was no way I was his. What makes you think he would have accepted you?”
The man sputtered. “My mom said he never knew about me. I’m sure he would have wanted me if he knew. I was a good son. A good boy.”
Emma’s eyes widened at the sudden childlike, wistful tone in the man’s voice. Almost like he had become a child again in front of her. She tried to think of another question to ask him, something else to say to keep him talking. But too late, his mannerisms clamped down and he closed off.
“None of this matters anyway. It’s time for us to go.” He reached behind him and then his hands came forward with a gun in them.
Emma sighed. She was sick of having guns pointed at her. Sick enough for a lifetime.
“Take this,” he said, holding up a tiny key and then throwing it at her. It bounced off her lap onto the cot. “Unlock yourself.”
Emma pinched the key in her fingers. “Where are we going?”
“Not far. I’m going to let you go.”
Emma didn’t see any trace of deception in his electric blue eyes, but she didn’t believe him all the same. No way he was letting her go. “I’d like a drink of water first.”
The man waggled the gun at her. “Do it, now.”
“No,” she said quietly, her heart pounding in her chest. He could shoot her, but she didn’t think he would. How would he ever clean up the mess? No, he had something else planned for her. “I want a drink of water, and then I will.”
He studied her, weighing the veracity of her words. Finally he walked past her, through the open door, into the large bay beyond. She heard a car door slam. He came back with a bottle of water. He uncapped it and handed it to her, staying mostly out of her reach. Emma snatched the bottle of water. She really should have enacted her plan at that moment, but the water was calling to her. She craved it, needed it. She drank it down in three long swallows, then handed the bottle back to him, adrenaline squirting in her bloodstream. It was do or die time.
He stepped forward and reached out for the bottle. Emma stretched, then snuck one hand behind her head slowly and ripped open her scab, feeling her own blood gush over her fingers. She pulled her hand forward and juggled the bottle of water into it, still pushing it towards the man, gratified to see her own blood dropping down the bottle. She held her breath. If he had correctly interpreted what she was trying to do he could have closed his eyes or looked away, rendering her plan ineffective.
The thump as his body hit the floor made her pump her bloody fist in the air. She threw the bottle on the ground and quickly poked the tiny key into her handcuffs, freeing herself. Emma shot to her feet and tiptoed around the man, debating whether to take his gun or not. She couldn’t see it, it had fallen under his body, but she knew she needed to take it. Otherwise, he could wake up and shoot at her before she found her way out of here.
Emma pushed at him, rolling his dead weight as best she could, then plucking the gun gingerly from his fingers. She knew she should search him for more guns, but she didn’t want to take the time. She stood and ran towards the way he had come in.
She passed through the large doorway into another metal room, much like the one she had come from. It held one sedan and nothing else. On the far wall was a large door but she couldn’t see a way to get it open. Maybe something in his car …
Behind her she heard a shout. She swore under her breath and turned in time to see her captor struggling up to a sitting position, his gazed locked on her. He struggled to his feet, still swaying and bent. Emma looked at the gun in her hand and knew she couldn’t shoot him. Not yet. Not unless he forced her into it. She ran around his car so she could search it from the passenger side while still watching him. He’d been woozy for a few moments last time, maybe she had enough time.
Emma looked in the center console and behind his sun shades for anything that looked like a garage door opener. Nothing. She popped her head back up, searching the area she had come from. He was up, and he had another gun in his hand.
Emma shook her head. Bad guys and their guns. What was it with them? She took aim over the car, her heart squeezing in sorrow. She hated to shoot him. She wished she’d never had to shoot anyone in her entire life.
His arms came up floppily but they weren’t pointed at her. Emma watched him, not understanding. “No, don’t!” she shouted, remembering the crates marked flammable.
He fired that way, non-stop, emptying his magazine along that wall. Emma heard a great whooshing sound and saw flames engulf him. She screamed as searing heat pushed its way into the area she was in. Emma backed away from the car, unsure what to do. In the large room, flames roiled and rolled, filling every ounce of space. They reached for her.
Emma turned around and ran for the door, screaming, knowing it was over, knowing she was going to die in here. She reached the door and banged on it, searching for a doorknob. She saw nothing. It must be electronic. She dropped to the floor, trying to escape the heat and smoke. She pressed her face to the smooth, metal door and waited for the end. Her husband’s sweet, dimpled smile rose in her mind a
nd she welcomed it, going to him in her consciousness. Someday, she’d meet him again.
Chapter 24
Craig rolled slowly through the forest, along the path Knox had directed him to, using only one hand since his probably-broken arm was still in the sling. Squirrels and chipmunks ran out of his way and chittered at him madly from their safe places. “This was all Oberlin’s property,” Knox was saying. “A hundred acres from his house to the road.”
“How close are we?” Craig grunted, feeling anxious worry for his wife spread through his gut.
“Not long now. See that grove of trees? There’s an entrance behind it.”
“You have a code?” Hawk asked, peering in the direction Knox had pointed.
“Yeah, there’s a failsafe built in. The customer can remove it but most never do. They don’t read the contract to know it’s there.”
“What if he did?”
Knox shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.”
Craig sped up, bouncing them mercilessly over tree roots and dirt piles. When they reached the trees Knox jumped out and ran directly into them. A moment after he was gone, an entire section of hillside trembled and slid underneath another section, leaving Craig rubbing his eyes in disbelief.
Knox climbed back in the truck and laughed at Craig. “Unbelievable right? It should be. It cost twelve million dollars.”
“What’s it for?” Craig choked out, starting towards the opening.
“Survival. Stealth. Hiding assets. Rich people are fucking crazy,” Knox said with a shrug.
Hawk barked out a surprised laugh.
“If he’s in there, he knows we’re coming,” Knox said.
Hawk nodded and produced a gun from a holster at his back. He looked back at Knox. “You need one?”
“Nah,” Knox said, but didn’t elaborate.
Craig eased into what looked like a concrete ramp leading down a tunnel. As they left the brightness of daylight he blinked several times, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the gloom.
“At the bottom, there’ll be two more doors. One is big enough for cars but I don’t have an opener for it. We’ll have to walk in.”
An alarm sounded over their heads.
“What’s that?” Hawk shouted over the noise.
“Fire alarm,” Knox called out, his voice suddenly tight. He opened his door and jumped out to the ground below, running full speed when he hit it.
Blood pounded in Craig’s ears in time to the alarm. Emma. Emma. Emma. He threw the truck in park and jumped out himself, trying to catch Knox. The bastard was fast.
He heard Hawk behind him, his feet pounding, his breath gasping. Ahead of them, Knox reached the tiny, gray keypad and punched in some numbers. A beep sounded and the door unlatched. Knox pushed it open and disappeared as roiling smoke belched its way out of the open door.
Craig threw an arm over his face and pushed into the wall of smoke, coughing already. How was he ever going to find Emma in this? What if she was already gone?
Knox slammed into him. “Go back, go back!” he shouted over the roar of the flames.
“Not without Emma,” Craig yelled, trying to push past him.
“I’ve got her!” Knox screamed. “Now go back before we fry!”
Craig backed through the door, feeling Hawk’s hands pulling him backwards. He squinted against the tears the smoke was causing and peered into the gray smoke.
Knox emerged, a limp and beautiful Emma in his arms.
“Oh God,” Craig cried, wanting to take her, but only having one good hand. “Is she?”
“I don’t know, we have to get out of here!” Knox shouted. “Get in the truck!”
The three men ran for the truck. Hawk got there first and climbed into the driver’s seat. Craig and Knox lifted Emma into the back seat and Craig climbed in with her, not able to tell if she was breathing. Hawk threw the truck in reverse before they had their doors shut and began backing out of the tunnel.
“Faster man, that was some fire. I don’t want to be in here if this place blows up.”
The transmission whined as Hawk floored it. Craig held Emma on the seat as best he could, praying she was OK. They’d found her. They couldn’t find her just to lose her again, could they?
Chapter 25
Hawk reached the top of the ramp and turned the wheel hard, then jammed the truck into drive and went out a lot faster than they had come in. Craig covered Emma’s body with his own, cradling her head in his arms, trying to keep her from injury. He felt wetness against his neck and looked down at his wife. Her lips were parted, and as he watched her tongue darted out and wet her top lip.
She was OK! “Emma,” he sobbed, falling against her. “We did it, baby, we found you. You’re OK.” He couldn’t believe he’d had to go through this again with her. When they got home, he was locking her in the house. She was never leaving his side again. He heard whooping from the front seat as Hawk and Knox high-fived.
Emma muttered something underneath him.
“What, baby? Say it again.”
“You’re squishing me,” she said, her voice cracked and husky.
Craig moved his weight off of her as Hawk finally slowed down enough that they weren’t in danger of cracking their skulls against the windows.
“I’m going to drive around to the front of the house,” Hawk said. “You better call the fire department and the cops.”
Craig looked up to see that Hawk was telling Knox to do it. That was fine with him. He had his woman back and he didn’t care if he talked to anyone but her for the next month. He helped her into a sitting position and pulled her into his arms, his smile wide enough to crack his face.
“What happened to Troy?” Hawk asked, looking back at Emma in the rearview mirror.
“Who?” Emma asked.
“Senator Preston Troy, the guy that abducted you. It was him right? About six foot, dark hair, has eyes like yours.”
Emma was silent for a long moment. “That guy was a senator?” she finally said, disbelief in her voice.
Craig laughed and held Emma tight. He was never letting her go again.
Chapter 26
Jerry followed Sara into their house, watching her closely. She’d been quiet and pensive during the hours-long interview with the police. Dr. Velasco’s house had been searched and he appeared to be gone. Out of the country, Jerry hoped. That was something they would need to deal with, but not now. Now he just wanted to get his Sara well again. Dr. McNamara had agreed to meet with Sara weekly and try to root out any residual mental poison left in Sara’s system from her three-week ordeal. Sara appeared to trust Dr. McNamara, and Jerry knew he trusted her. Sara had insisted Jerry be there at every appointment though.
Sara collapsed onto the couch in their living room and watched Jerry with dark, wary eyes. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something. She still seemed troubled. Jerry dropped down next to her, grateful for the silence of their house. Grateful that they were alone finally.
Jerry kissed Sara’s neck and played with her hair. He’d missed this so much. Missed her. Missed being close with her.
Sara broke the silence and Jerry pulled back to give her the space to get out what she was thinking. Her heavy tone told him it was serious.
“He played on my worst insecurities about myself, said all the things that I was so afraid of. That I was a killer, not fit to live with normal people. That I’d always be a killer, that people were scared of me, and that they should be. That the world would be a better place without me.”
“You remember it now?” Jerry said, his jaw clenching in anger at the man who would so abuse a doctor-patient relationship.
“Some of it. But now I can tell it’s his voice telling me those things, and not something coming from inside me.”
“Sara, that’s not you anymore. You never did anything out of revenge or spite or to play out some sick fantasy or illness. You were doing a job, trying to make the world a better place, trying to help people who couldn’
t help themselves.”
“He was right about one thing, Jerry. I am still a killer. I can never bring back all those people I killed. That will always be a part of who I am. My past. And if the circumstances were exactly right, I would do it again. If I had to. If you were in danger, for example.”
Jerry stared into her eyes, willing her to understand. “Wouldn’t we all, Sara? That’s part of the human condition. There is nothing wrong with you.”
Sara’s eyes showed she didn’t believe him. Jerry felt his heart breaking again. He had to convince her! His gaze hopped around the house, trying to think of a touchstone that would convince her she deserved this life. He snatched up her purse and pulled out her pocketbook. He rifled through it until he found what he wanted.
He thrust a picture into her hands. “You’re not a killer, Sara. You’re a savior, a rescuer. How many people would be dead or living in Hell if it weren’t for you?”
He tapped the picture she was holding. “Do you think they would be dead?” he asked viciously, wanting her to really think about it. The picture showed a young woman with a baby on her lap. They were in a park, and in front of them was a cake with a large candle in the shape of the number one on it. The woman’s head was thrown back as she laughed merrily at something. The plump and beautiful baby was watching the woman, one sticky, cake-covered hand shoved in her mouth. “You saved Jessica and Zoey. If it weren’t for you they’d either still be living on the streets, or they’d be in a ditch somewhere. But because of you they have a life! Jessica has her GED. She starts college in a month. College at seventeen! She says she’s going to be a doctor. She could be the woman who cures cancer but she never would have gotten that chance if it weren’t for you.”
Sara’s eyes were misting again. Her thumb ran over baby Zoey’s sweet face. Jerry thrust another picture at her. It showed another young woman with dark hair and dark eyes, holding up citizen papers next to an older woman and a young girl. They all had wide, happy smiles on their faces. “And Tira? Would she be dead out in the desert somewhere if you hadn’t brought her to America? You didn’t have to do that. You could have saved JT and Dani without insisting that the president give her and her entire family asylum. You saved them too, Sara. Do I need to go on?”
