He cringed as the memory of what had happened next filled his mind. He’d stormed off, got drunk, raced to see her and apologize—even propose, as if a sloppy, rushed proposal was what a woman like her deserved—then lost control of his brother’s car and wrapped it around a tree. How he’d paced the jail cell he’d been tossed into on a drunk driving charge while waiting for his folks to come bail him out. How he’d promised God he was done being that guy. That he’d make something of his life, join the army and become the man she’d needed him to be.
All of it, every glorious and sorry moment, seemed to hit him in a glance.
Zander’s mother was Erica Knight.
She was the only girl he’d ever cared about. The one he’d lost. The one he’d known he’d never deserved.
As he watched, the tall, thin man in the suit rose from his seat and held a gun to Erica’s side.
* * *
Erica’s breath caught in her throat as she felt the barrel of the gun press deep into her ribs. Just a few seconds earlier her biggest concerns had been the fact that Bob Bass, the front engineer, had a tendency to show up hungover and that the rainstorm was so heavy the train would have to take a slower route to Moosonee in case the bridge over the Moose River flooded. That and the fact the normally empty first-class car now had seven passengers spread over three of the four sleeper cabins. Nine passengers if you counted the fact her brother, Tommy, had snagged seats for him and Zander in one of the sleeper cabins thanks to a rather sleazy friend of his from high school—Clark Lemain, who had somehow rehabilitated his image enough to convince their community to elect him as a provincial politician. Clark relentlessly asked her out for coffee whenever he rode first-class, seeming to think the fact she had to serve him drinks and snacks meant she wanted to spend time with him, and also tended to make presumptuous comments about Zander needing a father. She didn’t exactly like the idea of Clark getting closer to her son.
But now the pressure of metal against her ribs had blocked out all thoughts but whether anyone else in the train was also in danger and how to get herself and everyone out of whatever this was alive.
Including her son.
She breathed a prayer of thanksgiving that Zander was tucked safely with her brother and Clark. The first-class car had both a large common lounge area and four cabins with doors that closed and locked, with seats that converted into beds. Her dislike of the showy politician who’d booked it notwithstanding, Zander was much safer there than with the regular passengers.
“Stay calm.” The voice in her ear was low and menacing, with the hint of a fake and practiced smile. The man shifted his body so that the gun was slightly behind her and hidden by his jacket. Nobody else in the dining car seemed to have noticed. “Look straight ahead. Do exactly what I say, and nobody needs to get hurt.”
His name was Mr. G. Grand. Or at least that was what his ticket had said when she’d checked it not ten minutes earlier on her pass through the dining car on the way to get her food cart. He’d boarded in Toronto and was riding the train all eight hours to Moosonee. Zander’s father used to say she had a photographic memory. It was more that she was good at paying attention to things and wasn’t quick to forget what she’d seen, which was handy when it came to keeping track of who’d actually booked a first-class ticket and who was just trying to sneak in.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, praying as she did so. The man’s movement had been so quick and smooth she hadn’t even realized what was happening until the gun was pressed against her. None of the passengers in the dining car had looked up or even moved a muscle.
The young pair huddled to her left were Rowan and Julie Baker. Brother and sister, she thought and rather young for first class, and yet their tickets had checked out. His beard was scraggly, and her large glasses, pale hair and skin gave her a fragile quality. Neither, she imagined, would be much good in a crisis. The three burly, tattooed men to her right looked like they’d been in their fair share of fights. Though all had a twitchiness that didn’t fill her with much confidence.
All five seemed oblivious to the man now standing behind her, whispering threats in her ear. If life had taught her anything, it was that most people were too caught up in their own stuff to even notice when anybody else needed them.
Lord, I could really use some help right now.
Her eyes scanned the empty window at the very end of the car. She thought she’d seen someone there a moment ago. A soldier. Tall, with short dark hair, broad shoulders and an oval face that somehow jarringly reminded her of the man she’d unrequitedly loved and then lost six years ago. Nick Henry. But Nick wasn’t a soldier. He was reckless, immature and the last person who’d ever come to her rescue.
No, she was on her own. And the most important thing she could do now was to de-escalate the situation before anyone got hurt.
“What do you want?” she asked softly, keeping her voice calm and clear.
“You’re going to walk with me to the baggage compartment,” Mr. Grand whispered. “Nice and slow. No sudden movements. Then when we get there, you’re going to unlock one of the cabinets, take out a case and hand it to me.”
A simple theft, then. The northern Ontario town and port of Moosonee, in the southern tip of James Bay, was the main access port to the Arctic and completely inaccessible by road. It was train, plane or nothing, which meant all sorts of packages and pieces of equipment were shipped by rail.
The train company’s rules about robbery were clear. Staff was supposed to cooperate, to give the thief whatever was wanted and to remember that everything was heavily insured. There were sixty-seven passengers on the train right now and seven other train employees. No theft was worth risking all those lives. And yet the idea of letting some criminal just rob someone galled something inside Erica. She wanted to trip the closest security alarm. She wanted to pick up the entire serving cart, hurl it at his head and knock the gun from his grasp. But no. She’d put the lives of everyone on the train ahead of her own fighting instinct and do what needed to be done.
“I’ll take it and get off at Coral Rapids,” he went on. “You will not alert anyone until the train has left the station for at least an hour.”
Or what exactly? She nodded again so he’d think she was cooperating. But her mind spun, accessing the situation like she was back in math class and someone had just presented her with a logistics problem.
Coral Rapids was a flag stop, meaning that someone had to actually have requested it. That also meant they were unlikely to pick up or drop off any other passengers there, especially at this time of night. After that, it was a three-hour nonstop run to Moosonee. Her eyes darted to the watch on her wrist. But Coral Rapids was twenty minutes away and it would only take a few moments to walk to the baggage car and unlock the cabinet.
And why grab a train attendant in the dining car in front of potential witnesses? The train was nine cars long. The baggage car was at the very back, second to last and right before the rear engine. The dining car was third from the front, after the front engine and first-class car. Why make her walk all the way through several economy cars to get to the back of the train? Why not grab another member of the train staff? Preferably someone already in the rear engine car.
She glanced at the security cameras. For that matter, how wasn’t anyone seeing this? There were camera feeds in both the front and rear engines.
The gun pressed deeper. He leaned closer. “Do I have to tell you what will happen to your little boy if you don’t cooperate?”
He knew about Zander!
Fear poured over her limbs as tears rushed to her eyes. Was that why he’d nabbed her? Because he knew she was traveling with her son? She gritted her teeth and refused to let the tears fall. “I’ll cooperate.”
“Okay, then, let’s go. Slowly.”
She maneuvered her way around the cart, feeling Mr. Grand close behind her. Zand
er’s cheeky grin and bright green eyes filled her mind. In spite of his flaws, including a few youthful brushes with the law, mostly for brawling and causing a disturbance, Tommy was a devoted uncle. Her brother loved Zander and would keep him safe, despite the fact she occasionally had to rake Tommy over the coals for privately calling her son “the mistake.”
True, falling into Nick’s arms that night had never been part of her plan—let alone what she’d imagined was God’s plan—for her life. She’d become pregnant at eighteen by an irresponsible young man who’d decided he’d rather disappear than step up.
Zander’s birth had forced her to slow her Queen’s University criminology degree to just a single course a semester as she’d juggled part-time work and single motherhood to rebuild her life in a whole new town.
According to Tommy, when he’d told Nick she was pregnant, Nick had denied the baby was his and told her brother to get lost. But still, if Zander’s father had been the one who’d taught her to be herself, to trust her instincts, to climb, fight and even to shoot, Zander was the one who’d taught her she was far stronger and more resilient than she’d ever imagined.
She kept walking through the dining car, focusing on just taking one step after another.
Keep it together, Erica. You’re not the cop or criminologist you once hoped to be. You’re just a train attendant with a job to do. Your son’s life and the life of every passenger on this train depends on you.
The door slid open at the end of the car. But she barely had time to register the solider standing there, before a small boy in a heavy green vest and oversize military helmet darted out from behind the soldier and tried to run down the aisle toward her, even as the soldier shouted at him to stop.
“Mommy, no!” Zander called. “He’s a bad man!”
Her heart stopped, barely registering that the other five dining-car passengers had turned. Zander tripped from the weight of his incongruous military gear, tumbling over himself as he landed on the floor in front of her. His tiny chin shook as tears filled his eyes. She reached for him. Mr. Grand’s hand landed hard on her shoulder, pressing the gun deeper into her ribs, holding her in place.
“Please!” Her voice rose to a cry. “I need to help my son!”
Then, even before she could blink, a second figure shot through the door. It was a soldier in the green military fatigues of the Canadian Armed Forces. His dark head bent low as he threw himself toward her little boy, sweeping him into his arms and cradling him protectively to his chest. The soldier dropped to one knee.
A prayer of thanksgiving exploded through her chest. Then her son’s protector looked up, his piercing, deep green eyes rising to meet hers.
It was Nick Henry.
It was Zander’s father.
He kept his right arm wrapped around Zander, pulled his service weapon with his left and aimed it at Mr. Grand.
“Sir,” Nick said, “I don’t want to cause a scene, but I have to ask you to please raise your hands and step away from the lady.”
Oh, Nick, I don’t know how or why you’re here but...
The trio of burly men in plaid to her right rose sharply. The young couple to her left rose, too. One flick of Mr. Grand’s hand and all five pulled out guns and aimed them at the man she’d once loved and the son he’d chosen to abandon.
They were surrounded.
Copyright © 2019 by Mags Storey
ISBN-13: 9781488040337
Justice Mission
Copyright © 2019 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Lynette Eason for her contribution to the True Blue K-9 Unit miniseries.
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