His Family

by Sheila Kell

  “What do you want with me?” she bravely asked, even though her limbs shook like a leaf.

  “I don’t know. I’m just the hired help.” He continued on his way.

  When he reached the door, she forced out, “How long are you keeping me?”

  The man stopped and turned. “As long as it takes,” he ground out and exited, slamming the door behind him.

  Returning to her perch on the bed, she waited while her heart rate settled and her body stopped trembling. Maybe she should try to rush him when he first entered. His hands would be full. She could grab the gun.

  What then? She had no idea where she was or had any way to get back to Blake.

  She’d said she wouldn’t stop trying to find a way to escape, and she hadn’t. She just sucked at it.

  “It hasn’t even been a full day, and I’ve had enough of this. Blake, get your ass here. I’m tired of waiting.”

  In her mind, she knew how unrealistic his coming this quick would be. They’d left him tied up. Someone would have to find him. His kids would, but how long would they wait once they’d arrived? Then he’d have to find out where she was. There was the stickler in her plans. How would they possibly find her?

  Maybe he’d have to do what they wanted. She didn’t know how she felt about that. Sure she wanted to be released, but she didn’t want him to not be true to himself. Not for her sake.

  With nothing else to do, her mind wrapped itself around those thoughts like a yo-yo going back and forth on how she felt. The result was that she’d rather stay captive than Blake change a vote for her. She’d just wait until he figured out where she was.

  She loved him too much to ask for anything different.

  Noticing the sky getting darker, she stared at the shower in the en suite and wished she could brave it. No way would she get naked for these bastards. They hadn’t touched her, but who was to say it wouldn’t happen.

  When the knock sounded for what she expected to be dinner, she hurried to the bathroom, not wishing to cause any problems since things had been smooth so far. The voice surprised her this time.

  “There’s a brush and such in the bathroom. Tidy yourself up. You’re having dinner in the dining room.”

  Fear froze her in place, sliding icicles through her veins. Eat outside her little prison? Where she’d see people and things she shouldn’t. Oh no. This was bad. Very, very bad. Anytime now, Blake, would be nice.

  “You’ve got five minutes to get ready.”

  Get ready? For what? Her death sentence? She’d like a hell of a lot more time to prepare for that. She exhaled on a long sigh. She could do this. Maybe she was overreacting.

  Looking at the counter, she looked at the items she’d spied earlier in her inspection—brush, toothbrush, toothpaste, lotion, and perfume. Did they really think she’d want to wear perfume for someone who’d snatched her from her bed—naked—then dragged her to God knows where and treated her like a prisoner? These people had lost their blasted minds.

  At the sound of the knock, she set down the brush. She’d taken advantage of all but the perfume, and she did feel better—more human.

  The man entered wearing a ski mask.

  Her breath whooshed from her in relief. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She’d at least get to make out her surroundings in the house in case they ever did something stupid like left her door unlocked.

  Led down the hall by a tall man she thought might have been one of her kidnappers, she kept her face forward, but her gaze swept the room, left to right and back again. She didn’t want to miss a thing.

  So focused on taking in the hallway and number of doors, she almost missed the first step. That was all she needed, to tumble down a flight of stairs while in captivity.

  As they made their descent, her pulse accelerated, and her heart pounded in worry and dread. She tried to tell herself she was stupid for those emotions, but she couldn’t help it. Nothing about this situation was right.

  “This way,” her guard directed as he turned right after the last step.

  Still scanning the room, she caught the southern charm in the furniture and decor. What would a true southerner need from Blake? He was a senator for Maryland.

  With that thought turning over in her mind, she almost missed her guard stopping. “In there.” He put his hand on her small of her back and shoved her through an opening into a formal dining room.

  Wanting to turn back and kick his ass for manhandling her, she started to do just that until she realized someone else was in the room—without something covering his face.

  Panic flooded her system, turning her limbs to jelly. Was this her captor? It had to be. Her stomach churned like a high sea. He was letting her see him. That meant he wasn’t letting her go.

  “Hello, Ms. Page. May I call you Elizabeth?” He continued without waiting for her response, “I’m Larry Thornton. Welcome to my home.”

  “GIVE ME ONE of those,” Blake directed to Devon.

  With a flashbang grenade that had arrived on the plane from Baltimore with the HIS gear in his hand, Devon looked at him in question. “Um.”

  “Dad, do you even know how to use one of those?” Jesse asked.

  Damn his sons. He wanted all the firepower and weaponry he could get to rescue Elizabeth. He’d never been able to talk about his black ops days, and now probably wasn’t the right time either. “Show me and then I’ll know.”

  His sons looked at each other, and he wished they weren’t too big to turn over his knee because right now he’d love to whoop their asses.

  “All right,” Jesse grudgingly agreed. “But don’t use it unless you absolutely have to.”

  “You’re starting to sound like a broken record. You told me the same thing with the assault rifle.”

  That had been a chore getting one of those from his sons. It’d finally been Trent who’d walked up and handed him one, showing him how to use it, even though he knew the truth of Blake’s secret black ops background.

  He’d puffed out his chest every time he heard someone in government taut the strength of HIS. Hell, that was how he knew they’d succeed at rescuing Elizabeth. They thought that his involvement could mess them up. He had to make sure that didn’t happen.

  The men, Kate, and Rylee suited up, and they marched to the waiting SUVs Blake had acquired.

  They were banking on it being Larry Thornton and him having Elizabeth in a home near Memphis, Tennessee. His heart pounded at the thought of it all. What if they were wrong? It’d been a big leap to choose Larry and then to select this home. There was no reason to believe Larry couldn’t have taken her on a private flight except Devon assured them none had departed the Oxford or other nearby private airports.

  If they were wrong, this would be a big hit to his career, but he pushed aside that thought. That potential hit would be worth it if they found Elizabeth or found a link to her.

  His career didn’t mean a thing to him if he didn’t have Elizabeth by this side.

  “Dad.”

  From the passenger seat, he turned to Jesse who had driven. “Yeah?”

  “We know what it’s like to have a personal stake in things. We also know it can affect your judgment.”

  Blake didn’t say anything as Jesse hadn’t asked him a question. Yet. He knew it was coming.

  “Are you sure you won’t stand down and let us handle this? If nothing else, think of your career if this gets out.”

  “Fuck my career. When Kate was in trouble, did you stand down?”

  The look of being gut shot hit his son’s eyes, and he knew he’d made his point. Blake heard the stories of when Kate and Jesse had been separated and she’d been in danger. AJ couldn’t keep up with him as they’d raced to rescue her.

  “No. It’s just—” He cleared his throat. “It’s just that you’re not trained like we are.”

  His stomach lurched at the statement. He had to tell them. It was the only way to get them to relax. “It’s probably time I shared something with you
.” He couldn’t help that all of the men weren’t in the vehicle, so Jesse gestured for him to use the comm system. He did. “Before I went into politics, I was in the military. Before I separated, I’d joined special ops, but I’d jumped into black ops.”

  Several “what the fucks” came back over the comm.

  He ignored them and continued, “It wasn’t for me and your mother, so I left at the end of my enlistment and sought a career in politics.”

  He cleared his throat. “I may be rusty as hell, but I understand what to expect. I want to be up front and take down this fucker, but I’ll leave it to you since you’re current in your skills. I’ll stay in the back. But when we find Elizabeth, I’m coming forward.”

  Jesse’s nostrils flared as he inhaled. He’d always been a temperamental little shit. “Don’t you think you could’ve told us sooner?”

  “He told me,” Trent piped up proudly.

  “We have plenty of questions about this for you later. But until then, just don’t accidentally shoot any of us in the back with that out-of-use trigger finger.”

  Chuckles drifted from his children and he relaxed. He’d explain to them at some point, but there wasn’t much more he could say that wasn’t still classified. He’d breached part of it by telling Trent where he’d been on a mission that had gone horribly wrong. The last one he’d done for the marines.

  The drive seemed to take days even though it only took an hour or so. Dusk had settled before they left and during their drive, they were plunged into darkness with only a sliver of the moon to shine light on the back road they traveled. When they stopped about a quarter mile away from their destination, Blake recognized the area—courtesy of Google Earth.

  “We’ll find cover closer, but we wait until they’re asleep,” Jesse informed the vehicle occupants even though they’d been told that before in their mission briefing. He turned to Blake. “Can you hold still that long?”

  His heart pounded so loudly in his ears, he barely heard the question. “Yeah. I don’t want to, but I understand why.” He wanted to run in there and demand Larry release her, but since the bastards who’d entered his home had weapons, he had to assume all occupants would be armed. A shiver raced down his spine. She could get hurt if a miniwar erupted during her rescue.

  They exited the vehicle and pride filled him with how his children had turned into warriors.

  In the woods that were barely discernible since the little bit of light they had kept disappearing behind clouds that streamed by, Blake stayed close to Jesse. Not only because he’d promised, but because Jesse had a GPS tracker in his hand. The last thing Blake needed was to get lost and miss out on the entire thing, sending his sons and daughters-in-law into rescuing him immediately after saving Elizabeth.

  Jesse halted and Blake followed, his heart pounding a staccato rhythm against his chest. They must be close.

  His eldest son put the GPS tracker in his pocket and slowly pulled his sniper rifle to his shoulder. Their goal was to get in at gunpoint, without a shot being fired, but if they couldn’t even make it to the door, Jesse would be their hero of the hour.

  Motioning Blake down, Jesse continued his sweep of the area through his scope, slowly, methodically.

  Blake looked down and cringed. Lying down in the woods was not something he’d wanted to agree to. Ticks. Chiggers. Fleas. And not to mention snakes and other things he’d rather not have touch his body. But he had agreed, so he unhappily flattened himself on the ground. God, I’m getting too old for this shit.

  Coldness seeped through the T-shirt he’d borrowed from Jesse. They’d had not only their weapons sent from Baltimore, but their clothing too so everyone, including him, hid amongst the trees in camouflage pants and a black T-shirt. Ken, their team leader and organizer who put together their equipment, came up with a pair of combat boots in his size. Although a bit uncomfortable since they were new, he applauded his children’s forward thinking so he was best prepared—at least in the outfit department.

  An ant crawled on his hand and bit. He slapped at it and bit back the sting from the bite. That little ant wrought a big-ass sting. He inwardly groaned. Yeah, he was definitely too old for this shit if an ant bite bothered him.

  After what seemed like forever but had only been a couple of hours, Jesse motioned Blake that they were ready to move.

  His heart pounded mercilessly and his palms were sweaty. Not what he needed at the moment since he had a weapon to manage.

  They stealthily crept the woods, Blake’s patience worn thin on how long it took. He didn’t miss this. Never had. He’d convinced himself that he’d enlisted in the marines as payback to Camilla’s lie about being pregnant. He’d fought going into politics because that was what she’d wanted. When she’d decided having the military background would only make him a stronger candidate, his love of the marines had died. Then on that final mission when he’d lost friends because their intel had been wrong….

  Jesse held up a hand and stopped him. Then he held up two fingers. There were two guards patrolling. At least he hoped to hell that was what it meant.

  In front of him, his son knelt and trained his weapon on something Blake couldn’t see. The guards? Wasn’t that the plan?

  He needed to slap himself. Of course that was the plan. Not to kill them, but to be prepared in case they weren’t friendly.

  In his ear, he heard a soft “Go” from Jesse.

  Every instinct in him wanted to do just that—go straight for Elizabeth, but he held his ground as some of the team surrounded the guards in an attempt to capture them instead of kill them. He knew that was best, but he wanted to rip them limb from limb for touching his Elizabeth.

  If he hadn’t been paying attention to Jesse because of the noise in his ear, he wouldn’t have noticed his son get off a shot. The noise of the discharge had been low with the silencer—which he’d have to speak with Jesse about later. Weren’t they illegal or something like that? Even so, Jesse hadn’t moved a muscle when he’d pulled the trigger, except to immediately train his weapon on a new spot.

  A rush of emotion flooded him. Blake couldn’t tell if he hit his target, but since he adjusted elsewhere, he assumed Jesse had. Yet that was it, his son had shot someone, maybe even killed them, and they weren’t positive Elizabeth was here.

  Over his comm, he learned one of the guards—the one Jesse had shot—hadn’t wanted to play nice and confirmed Elizabeth was being held there. Relief at finding her and for his son’s shot washed through his veins. The second guard—Blake heard in his ear—was willing to step aside—with some assistance from HIS—so Blake and company could enter the home. If he could be trusted, they knew not only the layout and where Elizabeth was being held but where Larry slept.

  After securing both men—Jesse had only given the one guard an arm wound—they moved to the front and rear entrance of the home.

  Blake’s heart beat so loudly he couldn’t hear anything in his ear piece over it. Hell, it pounded so hard he was surprised it was still in his chest. He wiped his palms on his pants and gripped his weapon, praying he wouldn’t have to use it, before he fell in line behind his oldest son. That still seemed so ironic that the father had to follow the son into what could be a battle. Like any good parent, he wanted to protect his children, and part of him knew he couldn’t be that rusty, that he could do it. But in this instance, he reluctantly agreed that the roles had to be reversed, or the consequences could be deadly.

  On Jesse’s count, they breached the house at the same time—front and rear. Blake followed, urgency lacing into his system as he scanned the room for any threats. His mind was already on the staircase they were approaching.

  Half of the team continued a sweep downstairs for any threats, while the other half slowly made their way up the stairs, Blake in the rear wanting to shove them and make them go faster. At least they’d agreed he could go into the room to rescue Elizabeth. They probably figured there would be less of a threat there since Larry slept down the hall
way.

  A board creaked under AJ’s feet and the team froze in place.

  ELIZABETH STARTED AT the creak of the board. All night she’d fretted over what might happen to her. Would Larry Thornton kill her now she knew who he was? Was he planning to come to her room and, heaven forbid, force himself on her?

  Her blood rushed through her veins and her pulse raced, putting her limbs in fight or flight mode. But her mind stayed true to the fact the Blake would rescue her. Was that him?

  Biting her lip in thought, she considered how she should handle the possible intruder coming up the stairs. Thinking back, Larry had already gone to bed, so it’d either be one of the guards or someone she hadn’t met yet. Or Blake.

  With no place to hide except a small closet which would be the first place someone looked, she decided to remain in the bathroom until she knew what kind of threat she had. If it was someone up to no good, she could rush them and hopefully get by them. If it was Blake, well… she’d probably rush him too, but only to be in his arms.

  Silently she made her way to the bathroom. She grabbed the only thing that could be considered a weapon—the hair brush. Then she put it back down. More than likely, she could do more damage with her hand and fist. Although that would hurt more. But if it helped her be free, she’d suffer it.

  Then what? It was dark and she was lost. Her chest ached at the situation She needed to escape, but she might be better off just waiting for rescue. Unless the person on the stairs meant her harm. She was driving herself insane mulling over the possibilities.

  When the bedroom door slowly opened, she scooted back to only peek around the doorframe of the bathroom. Her breath caught in her throat, nearly choking her. Guns sweeping the room. She pulled herself back. How was she to overcome that? Closing her eyes, she fought back the tears misting her vision.

  She was a survivor. She’d survived losing a husband and a daughter. She would survive this. No matter what.