by Beverly Long
“I’ll be back. Don’t worry,” he added. Then he brushed a kiss across her lips.
* * *
HOW COULD SHE not worry? Chandler stood under the green awning in the small doorway and watched the man she loved walk away. Her lips still tingled from his kiss. She could still feel his hands as they gripped her arms. Holding. Protecting. Cherishing.
She couldn’t be misreading it, could she? She’d done that once before, with Christivo. Had badly misread the situation. But Ethan was no Christivo. He was honest and good and very worthy of love.
She hated being separated from him but she couldn’t fault his logic. Each step closer to Linder, she became a bigger target.
On the walk back, she’d been reflecting upon what had happened inside Linder. It would have been reasonable if the security officer had said something like, “Hey, you, what are you doing in here?” But he hadn’t. He’d barely even instructed her to stop before he’d tried to use deadly force to permanently stop her.
He hadn’t called her by name, but he hadn’t seemed all that surprised to see her. It was as if he’d been coached to expect a young woman. That, more than anything, had convinced her that it was Claudia Linder who was behind the data theft and not Marcus White. Claudia had the resources and the authority to contract with some goons to provide security, to tell them to shoot first and ask questions later.
Chandler watched as Ethan turned the corner. Within seconds, he was out of her sight. She glanced at her watch. He had four minutes left.
Please, please let him be all right. Please let him be able to walk up to his truck, get in and drive away without incident. Please don’t let me hear gunshots.
So intent was she on listening, she was absolutely unprepared when she felt the cold, hard pressure of a gun pressed up against the side of her neck.
She shrieked and was immediately yanked back by an arm around her neck. A man, much bigger and stronger than she was, pushed her up against the glass door.
“Shut up,” he ordered.
He had on a face mask. All she could see was his dark brown eyes and his lips. He had a gray mustache.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“You’re that woman,” he said. “The one with her picture on the news. Said you were missing.”
Chandler’s heart sank. “You’ve got me confused with somebody. I’m just waiting for the bus.”
“Don’t lie to me, lady. I saw you with him. I saw you with that bastard Ethan Moore. I tried to follow you. When I lost you, I was so angry. Then I remembered that the news had said where you worked.”
So it was the man she saw looking at Ethan at the store earlier!
“What do you want with Ethan?” she asked.
“Fortunately, your office wasn’t that hard to find. I got here just in time to see the son of a bitch take off in the helicopter. I knew it was him.”
“I don’t understand,” Chandler said. Ethan would be back any minute. She had to find a way to talk some sense into this man before he arrived. “How do you know Ethan?”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know him. I don’t want to know him. He’s scum. A traitor. They should cut his head off and put it on a pole like they do in those godforsaken countries that we keep trying to save.”
None of that made sense. Ethan loved his country, had risked his life on almost a daily basis to protect it. A traitor? Not possible. “Ethan is a good—”
“My brother is dead because of him. My little brother,” the man said, his voice breaking a bit. “He’d just gotten married the year before. Now his wife has nobody and she cries every day. Moore has to pay for that.”
She could hear the man’s genuine anguish in his voice. “There must be some mistake,” Chandler said.
He grabbed her arm hard, wrenching her sore shoulder. She wanted to cry out but held it in. She didn’t want him to know that she had any weaknesses.
He moved her so that his back was up against the glass door and she was directly in front of him. They were in the doorway, unable to be seen unless someone pulled up in front of the building.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“You’ll see,” he said. “When he comes to pick you up, you’ll both see.”
* * *
ETHAN APPROACHED HIS truck warily. He kept one hand in his pocket, where he carried his loaded gun. There were still lots of parked vehicles on the street.
He looked at the snow around the vehicle. He could see footprints. His. Chandler’s. But nothing else. That reassured him somewhat. There’d certainly been time for somebody who knew what they were doing to plant an explosive device. But he didn’t see any evidence of that.
He opened the door and woke Molly up. She licked his face and wanted to sit on his lap. He gave her a fast rub on the head. “Not now, girl. We’ve got things to do.”
He started the engine, then looked at his watch. He’d been gone for three and a half minutes. That meant he had ninety seconds before Chandler took off.
He wasted no time in pulling away from the curb. He did a U-turn in the intersection and headed back the way he’d come. As he approached the place where he’d left Chandler, he got worried when he couldn’t see her.
Then, as he pulled up in front of Homewood Plastics, his heart almost stopped. He could see Chandler, her face very white in comparison to Lauren’s red coat. There was a man in a ski mask holding her in place, with his arm around her neck. In his other hand was a black gun that was pointed at Chandler’s temple.
Chapter Fourteen
Ethan was a fighter pilot, trained to quickly examine and discard options until settling upon the optimum solution. But right now, all he could think of was that he was about to lose Chandler.
He rolled down his window and waited for the man to say something.
“Hello, Moore. I’ve been getting acquainted with your girlfriend.”
The bastard knew his name. Getting acquainted? Did he not know Chandler? Girlfriend?
“What do you want?” Ethan asked. His throat felt dry and tight and he wondered how he could get a word out.
The man didn’t answer but Chandler’s head jerked back from where he’d tightened his hold on her. Ethan fought the urge to jump from the damn truck and rip the stranger to shreds. One bad move on his part and Chandler would be dead.
“Park your truck there and get out,” the man ordered.
Ethan pulled into a space and killed the ignition. He opened the door and stepped out quickly before Molly could follow. The gun in his right coat pocket felt heavy. In his left pocket, the garage door opener to Linder Automation that he’d pulled from the van before ditching it, much lighter.
Unbalanced.
He stood. Perfectly still. Breathing deep. Getting his head in the game.
“Come here,” the man said.
Slowly, he started to walk toward them.
“That’s far enough,” the man said, stopping him after just a few steps. “We’re going to take a ride in that Buick.”
“I’ve got my dog,” Ethan said, stalling for time.
“I can see that. I don’t care.” The man tossed him a set of keys. “You’re going to drive.”
Ethan raised his hand and caught the keys. He made eye contact with Chandler. Don’t worry. We’ll be okay.
She gave him an almost imperceptible nod. He got the message. I trust you.
Ethan’s heart filled with resolve and his senses, always acute, edged up a notch. He would find his opportunity.
Ethan walked over to the car, stood by the driver’s-side door and realized the light-colored sedan was likely the car that had followed them from the store’s parking lot. It seemed as if Chandler had been right about the man being interested in Ethan.
In the console b
etween the two front seats was a plastic employee badge. There was a logo for a company but no company name. The man’s picture was on the badge. It had to be the same guy. The mustache was the same.
There was a first name and last initial and a job title on the badge. Ted M. CNC Machinist.
The prominence of the badge clearly suggested this wasn’t a well-planned kidnapping—no one wearing a mask to hide his identity would intentionally leave a photo ID in the front of his car.
“It would be helpful if you told me what you wanted,” Ethan said, trying to keep his tone conversational.
The man snorted. “I want justice.”
A shiver ran up Ethan’s spine. “For?”
“Shut up. Get in the car. Put both hands on the steering wheel where I can see them.”
Ethan did as instructed. Once his hands were on the wheel, the man, using Chandler as a human shield, approached the car from the rear and got into the backseat.
In the rearview mirror, Ethan could see that the man now had one arm wrapped around Chandler’s shoulder. His other arm was crossed over his body so that his gun rested against Chandler’s ribs, pointing slightly up.
The bullet would go directly into her heart.
“Drive. Go back to the highway. Turn left.”
Ethan put the car in gear and started forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see motion in the backseat. He turned his head, just enough to see. The man had a cell phone in the hand that was wrapped around Chandler’s shoulder. He was texting something.
What the hell?
Ethan looked at the clock in the car. Almost five-thirty. It was still dark but the city was starting to come alive. There was more traffic than there had been a little more than two hours earlier when he and Chandler had first driven toward Linder Automation.
Ethan kept his eyes moving, looking for some local police presence. He could get their attention, give them some reason to stop the car.
But before he could do anything, the man leaned forward. His breath was hot on Ethan’s neck. “Turn at the next street. There will be a yellow ranch, three houses in on the right. Hit the garage door opener on the dash. Pull in. Don’t do anything stupid or she dies.”
He saw the house. A one-car garage was attached. The yellow paint looked pretty fresh, the sidewalk had been shoveled and there was a fall wreath on the front door. Not exactly the place where he’d expect a killer to hang out.
“Shut the car off and close the door. Then get out. Put your hands on the hood where I can see them.”
Ethan did exactly what he was told.
The light had come on in the garage when he’d pulled in and he hoped it would only stay on for a short while. Then the small space would be dark.
Perhaps that would give him the opportunity he needed.
He was counting the seconds in his head when he heard the man’s cell phone ring. The guy answered it, spoke briefly and then shifted so that he could reach over the middle of the seat to again hit the garage door button and open the door.
A man, about sixty, with gray hair and weathered skin, wearing old jeans and a heavy coat, joined them in the garage. He had a troubled look on his face.
He stared at Ethan but didn’t say a word. He pushed a button on the wall and the heavy garage door came down one more time.
The man in the backseat got out, dragging Chandler with him. The older man didn’t even look at Chandler. In fact, it appeared that he was almost trying not to look at her.
The man with the gun pulled off his mask, and Ethan noted every detail in case he had to identify him from a lineup later.
Assuming he and Chandler got out alive.
“Help me get him tied up, Dad.”
“Damn it, Teddy, this is a hell of a mess,” the older man said.
“It’s for Trevor, Dad. We owe it to him.”
Trevor.
It suddenly made sense. Private First Class Trevor Matchmore. Ethan had memorized all the names of the men who had been killed that night.
The brave soldier had been Ted’s brother, most likely. The older man’s son.
This trouble had nothing to do with Chandler. It was all about him. I’m sorry, Chandler. So sorry.
Did she understand what was happening? It almost seemed as if she did. Maybe Ted had told her something in those few minutes that he’d had while Ethan was retrieving his truck.
“Search him, Dad.”
Ethan judged his options. Dad was in decent shape but certainly no match for him. But Ted still had the damn gun pointed at Chandler.
So he stood still, let Dad search him and made sure there was no change of expression when the man discovered the gun in his coat pocket.
Dad took the gun and the garage opener for Linder Automation and put them on a shelf in the garage. Then he turned Ethan around and pushed him toward the door that led into the house. Ethan went into a small kitchen that was currently being remodeled. Countertop had been removed. Everything between the old sink, which had probably been there since the house was built forty years ago, all the way to the stove in the corner was gone, leaving the cupboards below open to view. Ethan could see pots and pans and other kitchen things on the shelves.
There was a stack of newspapers on the table, with just one dirty plate and a coffee cup sitting next to it. The paper was open to an advertisement.
It was pretty clear what had happened. Maybe Ted worked second shift at some factory and had gotten home after work and had a snack. He’d been reading the paper, saw something in the ad that caught his eye and decided to make an early-morning run to the store. Maybe something he needed to finish his remodeling job.
There were probably only a handful of people who actually read a newspaper anymore. Just his luck, it was him and a crazy guy determined to avenge his brother’s death.
Dad pushed down on Ethan’s shoulder and Ethan sat in one of the straight-backed wooden chairs. Ted opened a drawer, grabbed some duct tape and tossed it to Dad. The man tore some off and motioned for Ethan to put his arms behind his back with his wrists together.
He obliged, keeping them positioned exactly right. Every soldier had been trained in maneuvers to escape enemy capture and there was a way to keep the restraints as loose as possible. Duct tape was one of the worst but it could be done.
Then Dad taped an ankle to each chair leg. He never said a word to Ethan, never looked him in the eye, not even when he slapped a piece of duct tape over his mouth.
When Dad was finished and Ted no longer considered Ethan a threat, he finally took his gun away from Chandler. He put it down on the table and then roughly searched Chandler for weapons.
Ethan wanted to beat the hell out of him for touching her, for running his hands across her body. But Chandler showed no emotion. When the man found the flash drive and cell phone in Chandler’s coat pocket, he held them up.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Work,” she said, as if it was no great significance.
Ted tossed it into the middle of the kitchen table. He examined the cell phone and pushed a couple buttons. “Only one call. Practically brand-new.”
“I lost my other one,” Chandler supplied.
“For every piece of good luck I’m having, it appears you’re having just as bad. Go figure.” Then he pushed Chandler into a chair and he repeated Dad’s actions, tying her up tight and covering her mouth with tape.
Ethan knew the position of her shoulder had to be causing her pain, but again, her face showed no indication. It was as if she were a well-trained soldier. Be compliant when appropriate, don’t let the enemy know what’s important to you, don’t let the enemy know your areas of weakness, wait for your opportunity.
The trick of it all was not waiting too long.
Dad and Ted both took off their wi
nter jackets and threw them on one of the empty kitchen chairs. Then they left the kitchen.
Ethan made eye contact with Chandler. He could see that she was trying to move her lips under the duct tape.
She was trying to smile.
Good girl. Stay calm. Keep thinking.
Ethan strained to hear the conversation in the other room. The men were talking in very low tones but he could still pick up bits and pieces of the conversation, mostly from Dad, whose voice carried better.
“Hell of a mess, Teddy,” he said once again.
There was a reply that Ethan couldn’t catch.
Then Dad was talking again. “I suppose that...work....think this through. I’ve...map in my car.”
Ethan heard a door open and close and he assumed the father had gone outside to get the map. He heard an interior door close and then the soft sound of someone urinating.
He turned his wrists this way and that, slowly loosening the bind of the tape. Chandler watched him and he could see that she was doing the same. Duct tape was a very effective restraint. Fortunately Dad wasn’t an expert in securing someone and his mind had probably been less on tying Ethan up and more on what the hell they were going to do with him.
He had made some progress in loosening the tape when he heard the front door open and close, then the sounds of a map being unfolded. After several minutes, there was discussion, too quiet for him to distinguish any words. Then the two men were back in the kitchen. Dad had the map in one hand; Ted had his gun.
After putting the gun down on the counter, Ted got scissors out of the drawer. He cut the tape off Chandler’s ankles, freeing her legs. He did not take the duct tape off her mouth, nor did he free her arms. Instead he had her stand. Once again, he picked up his gun and pointed it at her. He motioned for Dad to cut Ethan free. Dad followed Ted’s lead and freed both legs. Then he motioned for Ethan to stand.
Once Ethan was up with his hands still bound behind his back, Ted pushed Chandler toward the door. She resisted, her eyes on the flash drive in the middle of the table.
