Kathleen stood up and tried to step lightly before shifting her weight to the toes, praying the metal floor wouldn’t squeak. Aldric bent over the frame, pulling it apart from the painting, the gun in his hand that was farthest from Matt.
Kathleen pressed her thumb against the metal button on the side of the knife so she could engage the razor blade at a moment’s notice. While there was no way she could imagine herself actually using it, if she could jump on Aldric’s back and hold the knife to his neck, the threat alone should make him drop his gun. She hoped.
Matt glanced up and caught her approach. He nodded as if he knew she wanted to make a move.
It was now or never.
Matt threw a hook punch right into Aldric’s face. Aldric dropped the frame. The cell phone flew out of Matt’s hand, causing the interior to go dark. Kathleen froze, unsure of what to do. Matt grunted, and something hit against the metal shelving. She strained her eyes to adjust and rushed forward with the knife, but Matt elbowed the gunman in the stomach. He pressed down on Aldric’s head, trying to shove him down.
Crack.
Kathleen dove for the ground and covered her head. Matt cried out. He fell to the ground with a thud. She sucked in a gasp. Had he been shot?
A light flicked on. Aldric’s face twisted with rage. “Where’d you put it?” He stomped toward her, shaking the floor.
“What...what do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb!” His arm shook violently, the gun pointed at her head. “The SD card wasn’t in the frame.”
She pushed herself up into a sitting position, cringing, waiting for the inevitable bullet. “I don’t know. I promise you; I don’t know.”
His head jerked up as if he’d heard a noise. He narrowed his eyes and looked at the tablet. His lip curled. “Your sister just texted. She asked if you’ve found more artwork to put up in the lobby. Otherwise she can hang up the frame you gave her yesterday.” He scowled, his whole body shaking. “You lied to me,” he roared.
Kathleen shook her head frantically. “No. I never hung that frame up. I never did. I thought you were only after the ones in the art display. I thought you knew which ones.”
His eyes widened. “How many frames were there? There were only supposed to be three.”
“You know there were more than that,” she objected. “You took four yourself!” She inhaled sharply. “There were two cubicles worth at the frame store. I sold one painting to Matt, gave one to my sister, and sold another one to the sheriff.” It was a lie. A blatant lie. “He’s known me since I was six years old when he gave me the Good Citizenship Award after I helped Mrs. Vantink find her lost cat. It was in the newspaper, and he asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. He’s always supported my art.”
The words rushed out so fast they almost didn’t make sense. But what she’d said about the sheriff supporting her was true. And the award. The entire town had treated her with kid gloves ever since she and her sister were brought into foster care when she was four years old. The town had treated them almost like they were the ones who adopted them instead of her parents, who—thankfully—were now retired and visiting relatives in Arizona.
Aldric scowled. “You will stay here while I have a visit with your sister. The only reason you are alive, Kathleen”—he said her name like a disgusting virus—“is in case I need you to go visit the sheriff. And the next conversation we have will start with a bullet in your leg. I will shoot my way up, until I get what I want. Understood?”
Chapter Eight
It was safe to say Matt had never felt pain of this magnitude in his life. Not even when he’d tried sliding down his parent’s banister and vaulted into the living room wall.
He gritted his teeth and held both sides of his right leg. What was with this sicko and shooting people’s legs? At the moment he wasn’t sure if he’d rather be killed or not. His vision blurred. He narrowed his eyes and tried to focus on the situation at hand, over the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears.
The gunman bent over and yanked on Kathleen’s arm, throwing her toward Matt. He held out his right hand in an effort to cushion her landing, but she fell hard into his shoulder, reeling them both flat onto the ground.
Aldric holstered his weapon in the back of his jeans and stepped closer. He kicked Matt’s wounded leg to the side to step in between them. Matt bellowed. He dug both hands into his hamstring, lifting the leg slightly up.
Aldric grabbed his right arm, still wet from the rain, and pressed it up against Kathleen’s left arm. Matt opened his eyes in time to see packaging tape being wrapped around their wrists, side by side, sticking them together. “Sit up,” the man ordered.
Kathleen grunted, trying to pull him up with her. “Stay with me, Matt. Deep breaths.”
Somehow he managed to join her in an upright position. Sweat dripped down his cheeks, and his arms trembled. He gritted his teeth to keep from moaning.
“Hold your other hands together.”
Kathleen grabbed his left hand with her right. They were in the oddest position ever. Stuck side-by-side but also holding hands. The tape wrapped over their clasped hands, over and over. Great. How was he supposed to stop from bleeding out now?
Aldric stood up. “If you are gone when I come back, Miss Wicks, I will finish both these men off. You wouldn’t want even more bloodshed on your head, would you?” The light from his phone revealed his lip, curled in a maniacal expression.
“Please leave my sister and her family alone.”
“If she cooperates, your sister will be fine. Though her husband was a dead man the moment he decided to invent that drone.”
Aldric spun on his heel and stomped his way to the front. The constant pounding of wind and rain on the outside of the van stopped. He laughed, a cold and hollow sound. “Perfect timing.”
“No, no, no. That’s not a good sign,” Kathleen muttered. “Sometimes when it stops that abruptly it means—”
As if hearing her cue, the sirens throughout the area kicked off. The wailing pierced Matt’s eardrums. There had to be a siren very close to their location, no doubt to alert the many farms in the area.
“Tornado warning,” Kathleen shouted. “There is a tornado coming. Please let us go. We’re not safe inside here!”
The gunman glanced back at her for a mere second as if considering it before he stepped on the passed out employee and exited the vehicle.
Kathleen blew out a long breath then inhaled through her nose. “I’m trying not to have a panic attack here, Matt. And if you pass out, it’s game over. So you better stay with me, okay?”
He’d never heard someone talk so fast. A sign of shock? He couldn’t remember. He groaned. The throbbing in his leg wouldn’t quit.
“First things first,” she continued. “We need to stop your bleeding. I could throw my leg over the wound and press but that’s going to hurt so bad it’s going to tempt you to punch me.”
“Wait.” He squinted and, with the lightening of the sky, spotted his phone. “I don’t want any more ears.” He lifted the heel of his good leg and smashed it down on the back of the phone. The satisfying crunch meant he’d succeeded.
She huffed. “Or, we could’ve taken the battery out.”
“I don’t think my one working foot has that much dexterity,” he grunted.
“We need to slow down the bleeding. Your girlfriend would kill me if I let you die.”
He frowned, panting. “My girlfriend?”
“You know, the one you tried to send my painting to.” Her words were clipped. “I know it’s a lot to ask when you’re in such pain, but try to move with me for a second.”
She pulled on his free hand, and he almost toppled into her lap at the movement. He roared at the strain it put on his wounded leg, but it allowed her to slip their taped hands into the front pocket of her sweatshirt.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he muttered. If he weren’t in so much pain, he’d probably be able to enjoy the fact she’d sounded jealo
us. “Jasmine’s a gallery owner I know. I wanted her to look at your work.”
She gasped and looked at him, her eyes wide. “You did?”
“Not that it makes much of a difference now.”
“It was still very thoughtful.” Her voice softened. “If we die, I’ll die thinking kind thoughts about you.”
Matt blinked. Was she joking?
Kathleen reached in her sweater pocket and flung out a phone, along with a knife of some sort that fell on top of her pants. It took great effort, but she leaned forward, which made them both lean forward, and she managed to grab the knife with their taped together side-by-side arms. In small short movements, she slashed at the tape between their hands. Hot sticky moisture dripped down his left hand.
She inhaled sharply. “Are you okay?”
“I think it’s just a nick.” Honestly, he didn’t feel anything but the moisture. The pain in his leg surpassed all other feeling.
“I’m so sorry.” She hacked at the tape again.
His shaking arm wasn’t helping her accuracy. He tried to stiffen his core, but that seemed to cause his leg to throb even more.
“I used to think I could handle anything, until I realized everyone in my life had been shielding me, protecting me from what the real world was like.” She twisted her mouth and began sawing in one spot.
He frowned, trying to focus on what she was saying. “Are you referring to what I said in college, because—”
She ignored him. “I started wondering why it took a stranger to tell it to me straight. Maybe there was a reason. Maybe they knew I couldn’t handle it, could see something about myself I couldn’t see.”
“Or maybe, they knew what the world was like, but they also knew you had what it took to succeed and didn’t want to discourage you.”
She shook her head, her hair brushing against his neck. “Or they didn’t care enough to tell me the truth.” She huffed. “It doesn’t matter why. I decided it was better if I just stayed here. I might be unchallenged, but at least I was a big fish in a small pond. I played it safe, thinking soon I’d be ready to go out and prove myself.”
She was halfway through cutting the tape. She cut faster as her voice rose. “But year after year, my savings and vacation time grew. Not much, but some. I have a passport, you know that?” She glanced at him. “But still I went nowhere. I was scared to go alone. Look where that’s gotten me. We’re probably going to die today, and the farthest I’ve been is Disney World, serving as a nanny to my sister’s kids.” She scoffed. “Most of my new artwork is framed memories from my day at Epcot. If by some miracle we get out alive, I’m not waiting anymore.”
“I’ve seen your work. You may be under-challenged by those around you, but you challenge yourself, Kathleen. You’ve won awards for your web—”
She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know that?”
“I follow the alumni news. I knew where you lived.” He cleared his throat. “I may have insisted my parents allow me to be the one to clean out my aunt’s house for them.”
“To see me?” Their hands fell apart.
He pulled his left shoulder back, glad to have the freedom of movement again. “To right a wrong.”
“You can consider it righted.” She smiled. “Sorry. I talk too much when I’m overtired...and nervous. And I never even got to hear the story about the stockbroker turned art broker.”
“It’ll have to wait. You have a sister to save.”
He panted, trying to will the pain to ease up. But it wasn’t working. At least he could put his weight on his left hand and breathe fully.
Kathleen used her free hand to grasp the extra phone.
“I thought you left yours in the car,” he said, careful not to describe what she left in case their gunman was close by and able to listen through whatever she was holding.
She pressed the power button. Matt sat up to take a look, but sank back into his former posture at the sight of the little x next to the cell tower symbol. It figured.
Kathleen popped off the back of the phone case and slipped out the battery. “Okay, now I think we can talk without fear of being overheard. We need a plan and fast before—”
The van sounded like it exploded with gunfire, pounding down on the roof. He looked up to see little indentions building.
“Hail,” she shouted.
He nodded, praying the beat-up van wouldn’t succumb to the pounding. He may be shot and tied up, but at least he had shelter from the giant ice rocks shooting from the sky.
The hammering switched to the sound of a thousand fingernails tapping on metal. The hail was shrinking in size. “Maybe the siren was just for a severe thunderstorm,” he said. “I’m praying we got into our friend’s head, and he’ll be too scared to drive off yet.”
“Can he even drive my car? I didn’t think cars could operate after the airbags were deployed.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not legal, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”
The hail stopped, and the sirens started again. Kathleen twisted her torso so she could work the blade between their other two arms, still attached by tape. A moment later she pulled away, her breath ragged. “We have to stop the bleeding.”
She bolted off the floor and ran to the still unconscious man, picked up the packaging tape, and jerked to a stop at one of the shelves. She pulled out a yardstick. “Better than nothing.”
Matt didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”
She held the stick horizontal. “Lay down, hold this, and bite down.”
He felt his eyes roll. “I really don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Don’t mess with me. Just do it.” She bent down on her knees and pulled the area where the fabric on his jeans had broken from the bullet. It stung. He inhaled sharply.
She gave him a look. “I haven’t even started.”
He leaned back on his elbows then fully down. “Fine.”
She hopped up and picked up the tissue paper crumpled on the floor from when the gunman ripped it off the frame. Her hands worked quickly, flattening and folding it into what he assumed would be a makeshift bandage. “Bite,” she said.
He took the yardstick and bit down on the area between his hands. The sound of tape pulling accompanied a heavy pressure, and he screamed despite having his teeth pressing down on the wood.
“Moving as fast as I can,” she yelled. “I don’t really know what I’m doing; I just know we have to stop the bleeding.”
He pressed his eyes closed while he strained up with his neck, fighting against the pain. Little splotches of color displayed fireworks on the sides of his vision. The throbbing continued, but the pain lessened.
“Done.” Kathleen sat back on her heels, panting. “You okay?”
He shoved the yardstick away from him. “Not the word I’d use.” He pushed himself to sitting and examined her bandage and wrap. His leg didn’t seem to be pulsating at such a rapid rate. He assumed that meant the blood flow was slowing. “Thank you.”
She gave him a half-smile before she jumped up and ran toward the fallen employee. “I just realized he might have keys!” She bent down, searched through his pockets, and jumped up—a metallic jingle accompanying her victory fist.
She spun around. “Matt, I can see Aldric. I think the hail must have slowed him down while he got the car unstuck from the fence. He’s just down the road. We have a small chance to catch up.” She stepped over the man and plopped into the driver’s seat. “Hold on to something.”
Matt looked around. Was she kidding?
She paused. “Oh no. Please, no.”
“What?” he called out. “It’s out of gas?”
“It’s a stick shift. I have no idea how to drive it.”
Chapter Nine
Kathleen wished more now than ever that someone would’ve taught her to drive a manual. Her parents had both driven automatic, so that was the only type she’d been taught.
Brady Harper had offered to teach h
er once, but she had suspected he just wanted to get her alone in his car to put the moves on her, so she’d declined. She was not going to let the fact she didn’t want to be on the roster of Brady’s Ladies in high school be the reason her sister was faced with a madman.
She jumped out of the chair and rushed to the back. “You know how to drive manual?”
“Yes.” He blew out a breath. “But I’m not sure I can guarantee I won’t crash us into a tree. I think I understand why they call it blinding pain.”
She inhaled and prayed for wisdom. Her eyes flashed open. She wasn’t sure she’d received clear direction, but she did have a crazy idea...if the Lord would give her the strength.
She grabbed the unconscious employee’s left hand and pulled with all her might, dragging him out of the way. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she chanted.
Her arms and legs shook with the effort, her clothes extra sticky from the exertion. She grabbed the biggest, heaviest box she could find and threw it on the ground, then kicked it until it rested just a few inches from the stick shift.
“What on Earth are you doing?”
A gust of wind rocked the van. She slapped her hand against the side of the shelving unit to regain her balance. “You’re going to tell me what to do with the pedals while you operate the stick. No time to spare.” She reached out for his hands.
He shook his head. “I don’t think you can lift me.”
She gritted her jaw and inhaled. “To save my sister, I will. And Lord willing, I’ll be alive tomorrow to get my back massaged and visit you in the hospital. I know it’s going to hurt you to stand, but Aldric’s getting away and lives will be lost if we don’t stop him.”
He looked into her eyes. A surge of adrenalin rushed through her veins at the connection. He nodded. She bent down into a squat. His hands clasped onto her wrists, and her open fingers wrapped around his forearms.
Kathleen took a deep breath. “One...two...THREE.” She dug her heels into the ground and leaned back at the same time, straining to push out of the squat. Matt roared, and he squeezed her wrists so hard it stung, but she could feel a slight give, a light movement, so she pressed on.
Team Love on the Run Box-Set #1 Page 16
