The Last Man She'd Marry

by Helen R. Myers

  “Wait,” Jonas murmured. “Wait and see what she does. She could simply be a lazy kid willing to spend a dollar on gas to gain a closer parking space. No, she’s our girl. She’s not interested in any aisles except the one where H is parked and the one she goes down so she can circle back.”

  He and Dylan were parked two aisles behind H. They’d arrived minutes after him and with many mothers and wives heading home to prepare dinner, it was relatively easy to find a spot with a good view.

  They’d developed their plan for delivering the money last night and reviewed it several times this morning, looking for flaws and solutions in case of exigent circumstances. Jonas had even asked the Freemans one more time whether they wouldn’t consider calling in the police or FBI, but neither would hear of it for fear that it decreased their son’s safety.

  “You’ve been right about these people so far,” Sarah told him. “And Dylan is here, willing to risk his own safety, not to mention his career, because of you. That speaks volumes as far as we’re concerned.”

  “Any last doubts, comments or suggestions?” Jonas said to Dylan as H left his small hybrid. He all but groaned as H locked it, then remembered his directive to leave it unlocked in case Jimbo got free and tried to get inside, and unlocked it.

  “Yeah, I think my deodorant almost quit on me,” Dylan replied.

  “Think about how H feels. The poor guy hasn’t been in a mall since how old as a kid? We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t collapse in a dead faint the moment he sees that Victoria’s Secret display window diagonally across from the fast-food spot. He was shaking so badly as he climbed into his car back at the house, I swear I saw the thing rocking.” He watched H cross the drop off and fire lane and step up to the mall’s sidewalk. “Heckuva nice guy.”

  “He said some nice things about you.”

  All of which would change, Jonas thought, if they botched this. Then the older white pickup truck sped up and came down to stop behind H’s compact car.

  “Mission Control, we have contact,” Dylan drawled. “But I don’t see Jimbo.”

  “He’s been told to lie down on the passenger seat and keep out of sight. See how the driver keeps looking over and down? She’s not singing, and I have a hunch she’s not talking to herself. Now check her hands. She’s done all of the driving with her left hand, even the turns. She’s got her other hand on the boy to make him stay put.”

  Jonas ordered, “Duck!” as the shaggy-haired brunette twisted around to check out the parking lot.

  “Okay, my hunch is as soon as H emerges from the mall, she’s going to order Jimbo out and she’s going to go pick up her partner.”

  “At the same entrance?” Dylan asked. “H will be able to get the license number.”

  Rising again, Jonas said, “Look at her, she’s a teenager. That tells you the person inside is likely to be, too. What I am worried about is that she might try to run H over before she picks up her pal at the north or south side of the parking lot. Or if it goes too smoothly, keeps the boy.” A chill swept through Jonas. “Change of plans. E.D. wants you to get a new SUV anyway.”

  Dylan did a double take. “Say you don’t mean—you want me to hit her? With Jimbo in there?”

  “Key the ignition, move it,” Jonas said, getting out. “Hurry. I’ve got to get inside. Hit her in her right rear wheel, you bend it, or at least cause the tire to go flat. Act apologetic until you get her out of the truck. Take my badge and tuck it onto your wallet. Flash it then and force her against the truck. Have you got any duct tape in this thing?”

  “Yeah,” Dylan said, opening the middle armrest compartment.

  “Tape her hands and lean her over H’s car, then start calling 911 like there’s no tomorrow. Try to remember to tell them an FBI agent is inside taking down the other perp. Go!”

  “What if she has a gun?” Dylan muttered as Jonas walked away.

  It was always a possibility, but Jonas thought if anyone had one, it was the person collecting the money.

  “Go!”

  Jonas slipped on the borrowed baseball cap to keep the sunlight from brightening his hair and catching her attention fast. Although he moved with some speed, his gait was gangly, and he pretended to be more interested in finding a quarter on the ground than scoping out the place like a SWAT team member.

  Just as he opened the first door of the mall entryway, Dylan struck the pickup. The girl screamed and started cursing, and he glanced back only long enough to see that not only did Dylan quickly have things under control, Jimbo was scrambling out the passenger door.

  Quickly making his way through the second door, he saw things were not going as well inside. H was still at the chicken restaurant’s order counter trying to buy an empty cup and lid. The girl waiting on him was giving him a hard time and enjoying it.

  “Okay, okay,” H snapped, pulling out his wallet. “Give me an ice water.” He flung a dollar across the counter and, when she returned, all but snatched the cup out of her hand. His face was beet-red as he ripped off the lid and dumped the contents into a planter.

  The girl watched, snickering.

  Jonas narrowed his eyes. As concerned as he was that H was beginning to panic, the girl with the dirty-blond ponytail troubled him. Not only was she being rude, she didn’t care who saw that. Customer service was going down in many fields, but this brought the problem to a new low.

  H stuffed the plastic bag into the cup in clear view of anyone watching—exactly what Jonas had cautioned him about—then forced it into the trash container. As he strode back to the mall doors, the girl at the fast-food counter called to him.

  “Hey, mister, you forgot your change! Hey! Big spender, you forgot your change!”

  Unbelievable, thought Jonas. Then it hit him—this was a diversion.

  Sure enough, everyone was watching the girl’s outrageous behavior. She tore off her apron and visor-style hat, flung them somewhere behind her, and ran after H out the door. No one was paying attention to the skinny guy in the custodian’s outfit who arrived with his cart and lifted off the trash-can lid. But Jonas did, and once the guy snatched the black plastic bag out of the gray bin and headed for the exit, too, Jonas gave chase.

  There were three of them, not just two.

  He was so close behind him that the outer door hadn’t yet closed. Jonas pushed it wide, saw that both the guy and ex-counter girl had frozen in their tracks, seeing the commotion at the white pickup. Coming up behind the guy, he yelled.

  “Hey! You dropped your wallet!”

  Startled, the guy turned and Jonas punched him hard in the stomach, causing him to bend in half and fall to his knees, the bag dropping out of his grasp. The girl’s reactions were better. She grabbed the bag, and pivoted to run, but Jonas grabbed her wrist and twisted it so hard behind her back, she, too, dropped the sack and screamed.

  “FBI—down to the ground. Down! Both of you.”

  People were beginning to collect and a security guard emerged with his gun drawn. “Everybody freeze!”

  “Special Agent Jonas Hunter, FBI,” he told the guard as he complied with the order. “These two and the girl by the white pickup are kidnappers of that blond-haired boy being held by his father. Call for backup.”

  The wide-eyed guard nodded, but said, “You stay put, too.”

  “No problem. But I need to inform you that there’s an automatic tucked in at the small of my back. Don’t get nervous and shoot the wrong people.”

  Across the way, H was hugging his son and Dylan had finished duct-taping the girl’s hands behind her back and was urging her to join the other two Jonas had dropped. He brought the tape toward them with his hands up. “Judge Dylan Justiss, officer.”

  The security guard gaped and lowered both his gun and radio. “I seen your picture in the paper. It is you. What the heck…?”

  “It’s a long story, but we’re sure glad you arrived when you did. We expected two, not three, suspects. I have a feeling a reward and citation are about to make you
a happy man.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You busted my Navigator,” Dylan said as they climbed into Jonas’s rental car. “The least you could do is drive me to the ranch.”

  Jonas waved the ignition key, rejecting the accusation. “I told you to do it. You were behind the wheel. Free will.”

  It was dusk by the time the felons were questioned, the story unraveled, the identities of the suspects discovered, arrests made, and Jonas, Dylan and Harold Freeman had supplied their full statements. Early on at headquarters, the chief of police offered an escort for Jimbo to be taken home or to the hospital for a checkup, but he wouldn’t let go of his father and so H recounted his story with his son on his lap. Father and son were then given a ride home. The chief handpicked the detectives to handle the assignment and assured H that he wouldn’t be inconvenienced with a trip downtown again. Any and all interviews prior to the court hearings could be handled at his home or at Digit Dynamics’ offices.

  Although H thanked Jonas and Dylan profusely and took full blame for any rules and regulations broken, the chief was less deferential to Dylan and even less so to Jonas. The terms freelance vigilante and mercenary were spoken. But in the end, no blood was spilled, except by Jonas, the victim was safe, and H had his money back. The chief ultimately said he had all he needed for the time being and provided them with a squad-car ride to an airport car-rental service. That was because in the collision, part of the pickup had pierced the SUV’s radiator and it wasn’t going anywhere but to the dealership service center via tow truck.

  “Besides, I want to get to Alyx’s house,” Jonas added. “She should be there by now if she got that flight, and I want to tell her about what happened before she sees it on the news.”

  “What about me?” Dylan countered. “E.D. is probably already in the bathroom sobbing her poor eyes out.”

  Muttering under his breath, Jonas relented, shoved the key in the ignition and hissed in pain. “You drive,” he told Dylan, holding his bandaged hand.

  Dylan drove them to the ranch—most of the way wearing a self-satisfied smile on his face. By the time they approached the secured gate, Jonas had told him that he was heartily sick of that grin.

  At the gate, Dylan pressed the intercom button and then keyed the code for the gates to open. “It’s us,” he told Chris.

  “Welcome home.”

  “Everything okay in there?”

  “They all held up pretty well. Saw y’all on TV.”

  “Probably won’t be the last time,” Jonas said, thinking of the reprimands or worse that he had to look forward to. “Remind me to borrow a work glove from you for the drive back so I’m not blind with pain by the time I get to Alyx’s.”

  “Sure thing,” Dylan said with an agreeable nod.

  Dylan’s family was pouring out onto the porch as they pulled up, but what got Jonas’s attention was the familiar BMW parked behind E.D.’s SUV.

  “That’s Alyx’s car.”

  “Well, what do you know,” Dylan said. E.D. and the kids attacked Dylan, leaving an open path through which he could see one more person standing on the porch. With all of the lanterns and security lights on, Alyx looked ethereal in white, standing very still, her expression even more serious.

  “You got a flight back,” he said, stepping closer.

  She nodded.

  “So Parke made it home okay?”

  She nodded again.

  Not knowing how to begin properly, or end the aching in his chest and throat, Jonas swallowed and blurted out, “I’m sorry, love. I wish I could have told you, but—” he spread his arms in helplessness “—this is the business sometimes.”

  “I hate your business.”

  “At the moment I’m not too wild about it myself. But it turned out okay, which you probably already heard on TV.”

  “Oh, yes. There was little else mentioned on the evening news.”

  He’d never wanted her more than when she started arching that dark-winged eyebrow and going disdainful. He stepped up onto the porch and that’s when she saw his bandaged hand.

  “You’re hurt!”

  “It’s nothing much.” Jonas shrugged. “The second girl, the little tiger with the ponytail, crunched me with her combat boot when I bent to pick up the cap I’d borrowed that came off during the scuffling.” He glanced at her from under his eyebrows, hoping he looked pitiful and that she’d melt a little for him. “It could use a kiss to make it better. In fact, so could I.”

  Instead, Alyx kept studying him. Finally, she said, “Once I heard that you were all safe, I was thinking about just getting in my car and leaving, but I decided I wanted to hear you say it again. Just once more, even if you only half mean it.”

  Hadn’t she heard him a second ago? He’d called her “love.” While that was probably considered a mere endearment, and not a declaration, he’d thought it was an excellent start. He would have preferred for them to be alone before he got to the really good stuff.

  “I’ll say it a hundred times if you’ll take me with you.”

  Exhaling, she stepped into his arms and hugged him fiercely.

  “Easy, babe. Don’t hurt your shoulder.”

  “You scared me.”

  He knew it. He could feel it coming from her in waves. He’d made her relive her own terror and potential death. But now it was time to celebrate life, and if she didn’t know how to start, he would have to show her. Lifting her chin with his good hand, he locked his mouth to hers.

  Did she shudder with relief or pleasure or did he? Maybe it was both of them. All the better, he thought, bringing her lower body closer so she could know that he’d missed her during their time apart with all of his being.

  “I love you, Alyx. Take me home so we can talk, and do this, and…just be.”

  Reaching up to touch her lips to his more gently, she said, “Let’s go.”

  E.D., not Dylan, tried to encourage them to stay, Alyx noted with amusement and complete understanding. She hugged E.D. and thanked her for keeping her sane, and then kissed Dylan’s cheek.

  “I’m grateful you were there with him.”

  “I hope he was worth saving,” Dylan replied with an evil grin.

  “In that case,” Jonas told him, “you can worry about returning the rental yourself.”

  “Two ride in Dada’s caw,” Judge Junior shouted in glee from his perch in Dylan’s arms.

  Jonas laughed all the way to the passenger door of the BMW.

  “You two shouldn’t be allowed to spend more than ten minutes together at a time,” Alyx said after taking the driver’s seat. As they exited the ranch and turned onto the farm-to-market road, she concluded, “You bring out the juvenile delinquent in each other.”

  “I was paying him back for keeping it a secret that you were down here. Do you know how sick I was, thinking it would be another two hours before I got to your house? But I had already asked to borrow a glove because I was determined to do it.” Jonas sat facing her as much as the seat belt would allow and stroked her hair. “I like it this way.”

  Alyx sighed. “Tell me what the news story didn’t, Jonas. I need to purge this tension inside me. How did you two get involved with this Freeman family, and, please God, tell me that poor little boy is really all right?”

  “Physically, he came through it as well as we could have hoped. You probably saw the brief shot of him on TV in the dirty men’s-size T-shirt. It was clear he needed a bath the instant he came home, maybe two, considering the number of insect bites on him. As for mentally, he’s a tough little dude, and I don’t mean macho, mean stuff. I mean he’s a little old man in a kid’s body. If there’s anything needing tending, he’s fortunate that his father is on par with some of the richest people on the planet. Not too educated yet when it comes to understanding how low and mean people can get when they want what you have without working or paying for it, but that’s a worry for another day.”

  “And so Dylan knew him? E.D. didn’t really remember.” />
  “Yeah, they’ve sat on some of the same boards, and Dylan advised him on occasional legal questions. H—he has hated his name for as long as he could remember—admitted that when they first realized Jimbo was grabbed that Dylan was the only person he felt would not treat him like a commodity—or meal ticket.”

  “How sad,” Alyx said. “Everyone wants to be filthy rich, but no one realizes what that does to your life.” She glanced at Jonas. “And so naturally Dylan thought of his favorite G-man.”

  “Could you have said no?”

  “Absolutely not. That doesn’t mean the floor didn’t drop out from under me when I realized you were the chosen one. And it was worse when Mr. Freeman admitted he compromised everyone’s safety because he needed to know and implicitly trust the people he was dealing with.” Alyx gripped the steering wheel so tightly her hands ached. “What if the kidnappers were pros? What if there had been a whole organization for hire?”

  “I know,” Jonas said quietly.

  He didn’t need this right now. Alyx knew that and quickly apologized. “But do tell me how these young people found this family. I didn’t know he existed. I’d heard of the company, but figured it was based in Dallas or San Antonio.”

  “Ah. This part is fascinating for someone who likes analysis and psychology as much as you do. It turns out the girl in the pickup truck was going with the guy who did the calling and planning, but before they were a couple, she dated the housekeeper’s grandson.”

  Alyx groaned. “It’s always someone you know, even indirectly. Not six degrees of separation, but the same concept.”

  “Yeah. Loretta, the housekeeper, was shattered when she heard. She hasn’t seen her grandson in a couple of years. He decided to pull his life together and joined the military and is deployed in Iraq. But during Loretta’s first year with the family, he would come begging for money, so obviously he talked enviously of the Freemans.”