Undeniably Yours

by Becky Wade

  He pulled into an empty parking space, backed out, and headed in the same direction as the Honda.

  This was ridiculous. He hadn’t been thinking straight since Meg had dumped him, and now he was so out-of-his-mind paranoid that he was suspecting . . . what? That this Honda and the one he’d seen in Holley were the same car? C’mon.

  The Honda slid away from him, down the road that circled the mall, its red taillights burning into the gray haze of the coming night.

  He’d told Sadie Jo that he’d check on Meg. He ought to find her car in the garage, then find Meg herself inside the store. She’d be fine, and he’d feel like an idiot for worrying about some stranger’s Honda.

  Except his intuition wanted him to follow the car. When he’d driven past it a few moments ago he’d seen something inside it. Nothing much. A flash of pale color that might have been, could have been . . .

  Meg’s blond hair.

  Go, the voice within him urged. Go.

  Shaking his head, he turned onto the road. He’d pull up beside the car and take a look inside to prove to himself that he’d been mistaken. Then he’d return to the mall like a sane person.

  The Honda took the on-ramp to the tollway heading south, then less than a mile later transferred onto the turnpike going east. Once on the turnpike, the Honda settled into a middle lane. Bo stayed to the right of it, hanging back, then gaining gradually. When he came even with it, his much taller truck hid the Honda’s driver from view but gave Bo a shadowed look downward at the passenger.

  It only took a fraction of a second to recognize her profile. Meg.

  Meg was inside that car. Why in the world would she have left her car behind and gone off with this person? He didn’t think she would have, voluntarily.

  He swore and changed lanes until he could get a look at the driver. A light-haired man, about his age. No one he recognized. Both Meg and the driver stared straight ahead.

  Bo eased off the gas and let his car fall back. If this person had abducted her, Bo was going to kill him. He was going to rip him apart, piece by piece. If the man hurt her in any way—

  The coldest fear he’d ever known seized him. His breath sawed in and out. Between his fury, the darkness, and the light rain that had just begun to fall, he could hardly see the road in front of him.

  He had to see, to think. Meg needed him. He switched on his windshield wipers and kept a close watch on the Honda, illuminated by his headlights.

  What did he know?

  He knew that this Honda must be the same one he’d seen in Holley the night he and Meg had first kissed. That night had been what . . . more than two weeks ago? So the driver had been following Meg at least that long if not longer. The man probably knew all her patterns by now, probably knew that in the past few weeks she’d hardly left her property except to go to work or spend time with him. Meg had been alone in an unprotected place tonight, maybe for the first time in days.

  Could this man, her abductor, be the one who’d framed him? To get him out of the way? He didn’t know the man’s identity, his plan, his weapons, or where he was taking Meg.

  His top priority? To tail the Honda until he could get help from the police. He needed to do it without causing the driver to suspect he was being followed. Bo let a few cars come between him and the Honda, grateful for the rain that blurred everything, glad that his truck had no remarkable features. It looked like every other truck on the road in north Texas.

  He dug his phone out of his pocket, but paused just before hitting 9-1-1. He should attempt to reach Meg on her cell first. If he’d made a mistake and she hadn’t been taken against her will, she could simply say so. Since Meg no longer answered his calls, he phoned Sadie Jo. Trying to sound normal, he told her he was having trouble locating Meg and asked if she’d mind getting in touch with her, then calling him right back. She agreed. He waited, tense, counting the seconds.

  Bo had been in high-pressure, dangerous situations as a Marine. But not like this. Not with Meg involved, Meg the one in danger, Meg at some man’s mercy.

  When he got his hands on the driver of that car he was going to tear his head off—

  His phone rang. Sadie Jo informed him that Meg hadn’t picked up.

  Bo thanked her, disconnected, and punched 9-1-1. When a female operator answered, he explained the situation. She asked him to describe their location, their direction, and Stephen’s vehicle, then told him she’d send out a squad car.

  Bo ended the call and prayed for the police to arrive quickly.

  The Honda turned north on 75, backtracking the route that Bo himself had taken from Holley to the mall. It made sense that the man would be returning to a location near Holley. If he’d been watching Meg for as long as Bo suspected he had, he’d probably been staying near Whispering Creek.

  Where were the cops?

  When the Honda exited 75, Bo stayed five cars back. It went east, through a north Plano neighborhood.

  Bo called 9-1-1 again. They put him through to the operator he’d first spoken with. He updated her on their location. “Where’s the squad car?”

  “Sir, there’s a major freeway accident south of you that includes a chemical spill and fatalities. The squad car that was coming to intercept you has been delayed.”

  “Exactly how soon,” he gritted out, “will it catch up to us?”

  “I just don’t know.”

  “Listen, a woman has been kidnapped and she’s in danger. I need a policeman to pull over the car she’s traveling in right now.”

  “Sir—”

  “I need you now!”

  “Once again, sir, we’ll be there as soon as we’re able.”

  Bo hung up and released a string of curses. If he couldn’t count on the police to arrive in time, Meg only had him.

  Since he’d spotted Meg inside the Honda, his attention hadn’t left the car for a second because so long as he hadn’t lost the car, he hadn’t lost Meg. The sight of its paint under the streetlights, its rear bumper, its back windshield had all drilled into his head.

  But the farther they drove from the highway, the fewer the cars. If Meg’s kidnapper noticed Bo tailing him, Bo feared the man would turn panicky. He likely had a knife or a gun with him in that car, and if he chose to use one of them on Meg while they were traveling, Bo would be too far away to protect her. But if he let the Honda pull out of his line of sight, he might lose the car.

  He decided to do everything he could, as safely as possible, not to be noticed. He hung back. Changed lanes. Forced himself to turn onto side streets a few times, dying inside until he caught sight of the Honda again.

  Like an accomplice, the rain continued, faithfully shielding him. The neighborhood thinned into more open country Bo recognized, about five miles south of Holley. He killed his truck’s lights and called Jake. He willed his brother to answer as the phone rang, rang, and finally sent him to voice mail. He tried calling two more times. Still no answer. The recording asked him to leave a message.

  “I need your help. Meg’s been kidnapped and the police are trying to get here but haven’t made it yet. I’m following the car she’s in, and I think we’re getting close to the destination. I’ll call or text the location as soon as I know it.”

  The Honda took a right onto a farm road. When Bo reached the intersection, he didn’t dare turn in. He continued past a short distance. Then he stopped, counted to ten, and turned down the farm road the Honda had taken.

  His vision strained as he searched the heavy darkness. He kept expecting at any moment to regain a visual on the other car, but he could see nothing but countryside.

  Terror washed over him.

  Where was it? He hunched forward, looking down each dirt road that broke away from the farm road. Barely breathing. Trying his hardest to locate the Honda—and Meg—again, to see where it had gone. His lips moved soundlessly as he prayed, begging God to protect Meg, to give him judgment.

  He couldn’t find it. Couldn’t find it.

  Sheer pa
nic suffocated him.

  Meg! Her name ripped from deep within.

  Where are you?

  Chapter Twenty-three

  For almost the entire drive, Stephen said nothing to Meg. And she said even less to him.

  The man she’d once loved and been married to, the one who’d crushed her so brutally with his lies and his theft, the one who’d been gone all these years, the one who’d fathered Jayden and walked out on Amber had come back. And he’d done this to her.

  He was at the same time chillingly familiar and a total stranger.

  Meg sat in the seat next to him, her muscles taut with fear, her mind laboring to comprehend that he’d restrained her and put her in his car. As far as she could tell, they’d almost arrived at their destination. He’d taken her deep into the country, into remote land where no one could possibly find her.

  He must want money. She knew very well it was the only commodity Stephen cared about or understood. What could he be planning? To ransom her? To coerce her into giving him money? How? Through physical violence? The threat of rape?

  Oh, heaven. Dread wrapped around her and squeezed, as real as the physical ties binding her hands and feet. Her teeth kept trying to chatter, so she bit down hard to keep her jaw steady.

  Bo’s face came to mind. The Bo she’d thought she’d known would have helped her. Her Bo would have fought for her. She ached for the man she’d believed him to be, for his strength and protection.

  He’s not coming. Not coming, Meg.

  She saw other faces. Sadie Jo, Lynn, Mr. Son, Amber, Jayden. How would they learn about this? What would they think, feel?

  Fear started to overtake her as surely as Stephen had inside the parking garage. She was going to lose it—

  God, she prayed, concentrating hard, fill me with your Spirit. I’m terrified, and I need you.

  A tiny warmth, as small as the fire at the end of a match, kindled to life inside of her. She waited, praying. The warmth grew, spreading through her trunk and limbs. Her body relaxed incrementally as she gave herself over. In response, His peace flowed into the empty shell of her weakness and frailty.

  He wasn’t just near her. Or watching over her. She felt certain that He was within her. The one who is in you, she’d once memorized, is greater than the one who is in the world.

  Her human fear remained. But she believed God’s power inside of her to be stronger.

  I trust you, God. She’d said those words to Him hundreds of times over the past years, but they’d never been more true. All those times had been stairsteps. So that now, in this grave situation, she found that she could and did trust Him, with all of it.

  Her life.

  Her death.

  “You look good, Meg. Better than you did when you were younger. Daddy’s money must agree with you.” Stephen glanced at her, then returned his attention forward. The light from the dashboard illuminated his neck and the underside of his chin. “Of course, your daddy’s money would agree with anyone, wouldn’t it?”

  His voice affected her like an insect crawling along the surface of her skin. She bit the inside of her cheek against a wave of revulsion.

  “You want to tell me why you’ve been searching for me?” he asked.

  “Searching for you?”

  “A few weeks back someone infiltrated my computer. I followed the trail backward, and what do you know? It brought me to Whispering Creek.”

  He was talking about Amber’s search for him, Meg realized. The one that Amber and Brimm had conducted. Stephen had discovered their investigation, somehow traced its origins to Whispering Creek, and assumed she was behind it.

  “Meg? Why have you been looking for me?”

  She kept her lips firmly sealed. The car bumped over uneven, hard-packed earth spiked with stones. Above, the clouds had cleared, taking the rain with them and giving her a glimpse of the stars.

  “When I left you five years ago,” Stephen said, “you let me go without a fight. But things have changed, haven’t they?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Haven’t they?” he repeated, louder and with an edge of menace.

  “Yes.”

  “Now you can afford to hire hackers to find me and attorneys to advise you. Were you planning to let the police know where I was living? You interested in seeing me arrested, Meg?”

  She couldn’t reply because she refused to breathe a word about Amber or Jayden to him.

  “You sought me out, Meg, and here I am. What do you say we skip over the police and the attorneys and settle this ourselves? Just you and me.”

  A small one-story clapboard house came into view.

  Stephen parked, then extinguished the engine and the lights. They sat in the sudden silence while he waited, listening and watching. Both the sound of crickets and a sense of their isolation pressed in on Meg.

  “You can scream all you like out here,” he said.

  “I don’t think it would help.”

  “No,” he agreed. “It wouldn’t.”

  He came around the car and released her seat belt, then cut the tie that bound her ankles. After hauling her out of the car, he pushed her in front of him to the house.

  Her hands were still cuffed behind her back. Even so, before he got her into that house, she knew she needed to attempt escape. She gathered her reserves, then bolted as fast as she could. His grip slipped away and she ran—

  His hand latched on to her forearm, heaving her to a stop.

  She turned to fight him, kicking at his shin, his knee.

  The force of his palm slapping her face jerked her head to the side and sent her body spinning. Meg staggered and went down hard on her knees. She pulled in air, ears ringing, cheek throbbing, as she tried to recover from the stunning pain of the blow.

  She should get up. Maybe she could still get away. She should—

  He pulled her to her feet. His relaxed facade had stripped away, and only the harsh lines of his anger remained. “You’re going to do this my way. It can go easy for you, or it can go hard.” His fingers bit into her arms, and he shook her. “But you are going to do this my way. You try a stunt like that again, and I’ll cut you.” He dragged her toward the house.

  She resisted, throwing herself in the opposite direction, but he used his greater weight and muscle to pull her past the wooden porch posts and rail, and through the doorway.

  He forced her to the fireplace and switched on a camping lamp that sat on the mantel. Its light revealed an abandoned room, empty except for two folding chairs and a card table that held a laptop, a gun, and a knife.

  He shoved her into one of the chairs, lowered himself into the remaining chair, and booted up the laptop. “You made a mistake when you decided to come after me,” he said. “I’d have left you alone. Live and let live, right? But since you didn’t see it that way, you’ve cost me a lot of time and effort. I’m going to let you pay me back for your mistake, and then we’ll call it even.”

  Meg’s attention riveted on the weapons.

  “I’m familiar with your finances,” he continued. “I know there are at least two accounts you can access right here with your online banking.” His hands moved over his keyboard with ease. He’d always been skilled with computers, but by the looks of it he’d graduated to the level of a hacker. . . .

  Meg’s breath seeped from her lungs as understanding dawned. “You,” she whispered. “You’re the hacker. You’re the one who’s been investigating my financial information.”

  He ignored her and continued to work.

  “You did it on Bo’s computer. You set him up. You must’ve . . . Did you break into his house? Do it while he was at work?”

  He didn’t answer and didn’t need to. She could see that she’d gotten it right. Using Bo’s computer to check into her accounts had allowed him to kill two birds with one stone. He’d gained information about her money and simultaneously swung suspicion in Bo’s direction.

  She’d fallen for it. She’d ripped Bo out of her lif
e, and in doing so she’d lost her closest ally. Her love. Her protector. The man who’d been as good as—better than—a bodyguard. Which had, in turn, given Stephen an opportunity to grab her.

  Bo hadn’t betrayed her. It had been Stephen.

  Not Bo. Not Bo.

  Tears sheened her vision. Bo had loved her. Just like he’d told her. He’d asked her to trust him and she’d . . . oh my goodness . . . she’d said those horrible things to him. Fired him.

  Regret and shame pierced straight through her. She’d had no faith in him.

  “We’re going to move four million dollars into an account I’ve set up. It’s ready and waiting.” Stephen angled the laptop to face her. Her bank’s Web site filled the screen. “What’s your code?”

  She met his gaze. “I’m not giving you any money.”

  “Yes you are.”

  Her determination intensified. She was not going to hand over four million dollars to Stephen McIntyre, a man who’d left a trail of destruction everywhere he went. “No.”

  “You used to be so accommodating.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “That so?” He picked up the knife and tested the blade with his thumb. “If we were still married, I’d have access to every bit of your money, by rights. In comparison, four million dollars is just a drop in the bucket—and you know it.”

  She glared at him.

  “A reasonable bargain.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Let me put it to you this way, Meg. You’re going to do something for me. You’re going to transfer money. And afterward, I’m going to do something for you. I’m going to let you walk out of here alive.”

  “What guarantee do I have of that?” As soon as she transferred the money, he’d have no reason left to keep her alive.

  “None. But then again, I don’t think you’re in a position to ask for guarantees right now.”

  “I’m the one that knows the code.”

  “I’m the one that has the knife.”

  “Use it, then.”

  “You doubt that I will?” Moving slowly, he placed a hand on her shoulder, then pressed her back against her chair. He trailed the knife’s tip across her forehead, into her hair, along the length of one of the long strands.