The gunfire continued. Glass broke. A car alarm wailed. It sounded like a war outside.
She turned enough to see Christopher. She flinched when she saw the expression on his face. She’d seen a lot of expressions on him before, but never one like this. His face was tight, his eyes livid, his lips pulled into a rigid line. He looked like a cat ready to pounce.
The war. Karina had warned Ashley in their brief conversation earlier that the war had changed him. Was this what she meant?
Fear unlike anything she’d ever felt before today threatened to suffocate her. It was only a matter of time before the gunmen found them up here. It was only a matter of time before they killed her and Christopher.
Ashley scooted from beneath him and crouched by the wall. “Do you still have your gun?” she whispered.
Christopher pulled himself up and squatted beside her, alert and ready to spring into action. He shook his head. “I left it on the table inside. Wasn’t planning on needing it.”
“They’re going to kill us.” Her voice cracked as the gunfire continued. Was it her imagination or was the sound getting closer and closer?
He gripped her arm, his voice stern. “Don’t say that. We’ll get out of this somehow.”
Was he in the same place she was? “We’re sitting ducks. It’s just a matter of time before they find us.”
“Don’t talk like that. I’ve gotten out of worse before.” He nodded toward the bathroom. “Stay low and go into the bathroom. We’ll buy ourselves as much time as possible.”
Her hands trembled against the floor as she dragged herself toward the small space. He’d gotten out of worse than this? She couldn’t imagine. Didn’t want to imagine.
Nausea roiled in her gut. Lord, help us. Help David and Josh.
Just who were these men? Why did they want her dead? How had they found her? The questions repeated themselves over and over.
Her hands connected with the cool tile of the bathroom floor. Gunshots continued to explode outside. They were trying to make sure Ashley was dead, weren’t they? And out here in the country, there was no one else around to hear the commotion and come help.
Fear threatened to seize each of her muscles. Christopher jetted into the bathroom behind her and quietly shut the door. Ashley climbed into the bathtub—located against an interior wall—and Christopher sat beside her. She pulled her knees to her chest and tried to even out her breathing.
The cold air seemed to crackle with fear, with certainty of death.
Then everything went silent outside.
Ashley wasn’t sure which was worse—the gunfire or the silence.
What were the gunmen doing? Had they gone inside the house to look for them, to make sure a bullet had pierced their flesh?
When they discovered Ashley wasn’t there, would they come out to the garage to finish the job? She pressed herself harder into the cool tile.
Christopher leaned close enough that Ashley could feel his breath on her cheek. “Stay here. Understand?”
“Where are you going?” She grabbed his arm, desperate to keep her only known ally close—even if he had broken her heart at one time.
He locked gazes with her, that same confidence that had always made her feel safe shining in his eyes. “I’m going to find something to fight with.”
“But they have guns!” She squeezed harder, her own fear creeping in.
“If I go down, I’m going to go down fighting, Ashley.” His voice was steady, holding not even a hint of disbelief. “I want you to stay in here. Lock the door when I leave. Understand?”
She couldn’t answer. She only stared at him silently. Despair threatened to bite deep.
“Understand?”
Finally, she nodded as reality set in.
He tried to stand but Ashley pulled him back down. “I came here for your help, not to get you killed.” Her voice cracked with fear and regret. How had her life turned into this?
His eyes softened for a moment. “I know. Trust me. Okay?”
She didn’t know if she could ever trust him again. But in this moment, she had no choice. She nodded. Her heart pounded in her ears as he pulled the door open. She held her breath, waiting for more gunfire to break out—only this time closer.
There was nothing.
He pointed to the lock before closing the door. Tears rolled down her face as she turned the button and heard the mechanism click in place.
Lord, be with him. Please. He may have broken my heart, but I never wanted this.
Something creaked outside.
The steps. Someone was coming up the steps.
Fear squeezed tighter as she braced herself for whatever was about to come.
THREE
All Christopher had been able to find in the closet was an old metal pipe that was probably leftover from some plumbing work. It wasn’t a gun or a grenade, but it would work. He didn’t have any other options.
He stood on the other side of the door frame, pressed into the wall and ready to swing into action. Adrenaline surged through him, intensifying his heart rate and causing sweat to dot his forehead. If he could catch the shooter off guard, maybe he had a chance.
The problem was that he’d estimated there to be at least three shooters. All of that gunfire had come from more than one weapon. These men carried semiautomatics, and they’d brought no shortage of ammunition. One man he might be able to take. But an unarmed man taking on three men with semiautomatic weapons?
Another round of gunshots cracked the air outside of his home. Flashbacks of the Middle East pounded his memories. Mortar shells, improvised explosive devices, enemy combatants. Men bleeding, women crying, children searching for their parents.
He ran a hand over his eyes. No, he was in Virginia now. Not a dusty village in Afghanistan. So why could he practically smell the burning of C-4? Why did his skin feel gritty with sand and dust?
He shook his head. Snap out of it, Jordan.
But the memories continued to batter him. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could turn off his thoughts as easily as turning off a TV.
Another creak on the stairs pulled him back to reality, back to the here and now. Someone was definitely coming up. Christopher gripped the pipe tighter, bracing himself for the coming struggle.
Another creak. Then another. They were getting closer. They had to be only a few steps away.
Christopher would swing as soon as they opened the door. Best-case scenario, he’d knock the man out and grab his weapon. Worst-case scenario...well, he wouldn’t go there.
All he knew was that he and Ashley might be the only hope for saving a little boy. That was worth fighting for.
A wooden step outside moaned under the weight of an intruder. Whoever the man was, he was right outside the door now. Christopher could practically hear him breathing, could almost feel his presence only inches away, separated by the door.
He tightened his grip on the cylinder in his hands. His muscles were wound tight enough to spring. Sweat trickled down from his temple. It was do or die.
Just then, a bullet pierced the air. His gaze darted across the dark room. Where had that gunshot come from? It was too far away to have come from the man outside the door. Even more concerning—had it pierced the garage? Was Ashley okay?
He stared at the door, waiting to see the handle jiggle. He anticipated more shots exploding. Something hit the landing outside the door with a loud thud. A moan followed, then a grunt.
He willed himself to remain still. Everything in him wanted to open the door and see what was happening. He had to remain silent, though. Patience could mean life or death; winning a battle or losing it. He’d learned that through experience.
Afghanistan flashed into his mind again. At once, he was transported back in time and pressed ag
ainst the wall of an abandoned house. Rags—or were they clothes?—were strewn across the dirty floor. The air smelled like death.
Where was Liam? Why wasn’t he answering his radio? The insurgents were—
Another thud sounded outside. Christopher snapped back to reality, shaking his head to dislodge his memories of war. The thud was followed by what sounded like something large being dragged away. What in the world was happening out there? The sounds repeated for a few minutes until finally there was silence again.
He waited. And waited.
Were these men planning something else? Or had their original plans been thwarted? By what, though?
Staying low, he crept back to the bathroom. He tapped on the door once. “Ashley. It’s me.”
The door opened so quickly that Christopher was certain her hand had been on the knob the whole time. She practically fell into the room, fell into him. Her limbs shook with fear.
“You’re alive,” she whispered. She started to reach for him but stopped.
He grabbed her elbow anyway, but only to help her stay upright. “I’m fine. You okay?”
Worry stained her gaze. “What’s going on? I thought...I thought you’d been shot. I heard...” She didn’t finish her thought.
His heart tugged with compassion, but he shoved those emotions aside. Right now there was only room for one thing—logic. Emotions would only lead him astray. “I don’t know what happened out there. It’s been quiet now for ten minutes. I don’t want to take the chance that they’re still out there trying to wait us out. We should lay low for a little while longer.”
She nodded quickly. Christopher wanted to sit beside her, to offer her some comfort and put her mind at rest. He wished that he could distract her with chitchat—do something to keep her mind off the matters at hand. But he couldn’t. Instead, he stood by the bathroom door, still gripping that pipe. The last thing he wanted was for someone to catch him off guard.
Ashley showing up today had already filled his quota on that for a lifetime.
* * *
Ashley pulled her knees to her chest, hating feeling so helpless, hating that she’d gotten Christopher into this mess. Her anxiety had her feeling nauseous and jittery. So she just kept praying the same prayers over and over again. Lord, help us. Help David and Josh.
Then there had been her crazy worry over Christopher. She’d heard that gunshot—it had sounded so close—and she was sure he’d been hit. All she could think about were the many unfinished conversations they needed to have. She needed to have.
Which caused another swell of anxiety to rise in her.
The strangest comfort filled her when she saw the pure determination on Christopher’s face as he stood in the doorway. He’d always been tough and protective. They were two of the things she’d loved about him at one time. She couldn’t imagine feeling safer around anyone. But feeling physically safe was entirely different from feeling emotionally safe.
Christopher had made it clear when he left that she wasn’t important to him. She obviously hadn’t captured his heart enough for him to try and make their relationship work. No, true love hadn’t conquered all. Or they hadn’t had true love. She wasn’t sure which was worse.
She wondered if he’d found his perfect woman yet, the one he would do anything to be with. That person was not her. Despite that, she knew that Christopher would give his life for her, whether she was his fiancée or just someone from his past.
She understood what it was like to feel protective of someone. Without a second thought, she would take a bullet for her nephew. Whenever they were together, it seemed like she was trying to protect him from something—viruses, bullies, drivers who weren’t paying attention. She tried to protect him from other things, too, things like the heartbreak of losing his mom and loneliness from a father who worked too much.
What she wouldn’t give to be able to protect him now. Her heart squeezed with pain.
Minutes ticked by. Just what was going on outside? Had the shooters given up? That just didn’t seem likely. But why else would they leave? Or had they?
She hugged her knees tighter.
Lord, help us. Help David and Josh.
“I’m going to go down and check things out.” Christopher’s voice pulled her from her heavy thoughts.
New alarm spread through her. She straightened, forcing herself not to grab him. “But what if they’re still there?”
His jaw flexed. “I haven’t heard a sound in a half hour.”
“But—”
“I’ll be careful, Ashley. I’ve been in hostile situations before. I can handle myself.”
She stared at him a moment, knowing that his mind was equally as strong and tough as his well-defined muscles and quick reflexes. She had to trust him. What other choice did she have? Finally, she nodded.
She wanted to blurt out everything on her mind before he walked to his possible death.
Just in case you never come back, I thought you should know that I found out a month after we broke up that I was pregnant with your child. My brother adopted the baby, and his name is David. I’ve been wanting to tell you for years...
She sucked on her bottom lip.
It’s your son who was snatched today.
How exactly did someone tell her ex-fiancé that?
How did she tell him that back when they’d been young and foolish, that one night of passion had turned into a baby? The sweetest little baby that Ashley had ever laid eyes on. Giving him up for adoption had been the most gut-wrenching thing she’d ever done. But she couldn’t provide for a baby. Not only had she been in college and without a job or the ability to get a job that paid more than minimum wage, but then there was the car accident that happened when David was only two months old. Ashley had spent six months in the hospital, and she’d had months of physical therapy after that. Her brother and his wife had been so desperate for a child and she’d been unable to take care of little David. They’d adopted him before his first birthday.
That’s why she knew Christopher was the only person who could help her right now. This was his son.
Everything that she’d tried so carefully to control was slipping away. She couldn’t protect David. She couldn’t keep Christopher at a distance. She would have to face her fears and eventually tell Christopher the truth. The walls she’d so carefully constructed were coming down fast.
She sucked in a long, deep breath. Silence surrounded her again. Was Christopher okay? She’d heard nothing since he left.
At least nothing meant no gunfire, either. Right?
How long did she wait before checking on him? She glanced at her watch. Ten more minutes. That was as long as she could possibly stand it. What if he was bleeding and hurt? What if he needed her help? She’d sent him into a battle that wasn’t his to fight.
She let her head fall back against the cold tile wall. All was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The silence was driving her mad.
She stood and began pacing the small space. Maybe she could go to the window and peer out. She could be quick and quiet.
It beat sitting here and doing nothing.
Before she could second-guess herself, she twisted the doorknob. Slowly, she pushed the door open. Her gaze roamed the space there. Everything looked the same. No figures lurked in the shadows...she didn’t think, at least.
She took her first step out, every cell of her body alert and ready to pounce into action. Slowly, she tiptoed across the floor to the window, not relaxing for even a second. Would someone jump out at her? Were they lying in wait?
She ducked low under the window and carefully raised her head to peer out. She flinched when she saw all of the windows in Christopher’s house had been shattered. Christmas wreathes that had once graced the glass panes now lay like corpses on the deck and in the flower beds.
She crawled across the floor to the closet. Was there anything left in here she could use as a weapon? She spotted a vacuum, some old coats and a wooden bar full of clothes hangers that stretched across the top. It would have to do. She stood and wedged the bar from its holders. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something.
Doubt filled her as she crept toward the door. She shouldn’t do this. But she had to. If they were going to shoot her, they would shoot her. But if they were gone and Christopher needed help, then she had to get downstairs.
Stark fear gripped her as she opened the door. She listened. Nothing except the wind blowing some stray leaves across the ground. Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw blood across the wooden landing at her feet.
Blood? Whose blood? What had happened? She followed the trail all the way to the bottom. Someone had been shot up here and then dragged back down. Terror rose in her.
She couldn’t turn back now. If she let fear dictate what she did, she might be in the bathroom for days, afraid to leave. But each step down the stairs felt like a step closer to her death.
Be strong, Ashley. You can do this. She’d never been a quitter. Not even when she gave David up for adoption. No, she’d simply been giving him the opportunity for a better life—a life that she could still be a part of.
But if she hadn’t given him up for adoption, would he be in this situation now? Regret squeezed her heart again. She couldn’t think like that. Not now.
She continued her descent. Everything remained silent. She gripped the wooden rod like a baseball bat, wishing it would protect her from bullets.
At the bottom of the stairs, she saw that the blood trail ended at the edge of the deck. Whoever had been shot had been dragged onto the grass. Into the woods? She couldn’t be sure.
She swung her head back up, soaking in her surroundings. She had to pay attention. Her life depended on it.
High-Stakes Holiday Reunion Page 3
