“Yes, it does!” Her voice rose. “People do things for a reason. Crimes aren’t random. There are patterns.”
“And you’ll figure it all out.” He slid both his hands over hers, cradling her trembling hands inside his palms. “But not right now. Right now, you need to relax and work with me to figure out how you’re going to get out of this. Okay? We’re going to think this out together.”
Her shoulders relaxed and it was as if he could feel some of the tension slip from her limbs and into his. He leaned toward her and felt her forehead rest against his. He closed his eyes, and they stayed there for a second, their heads resting against each other and their faces so close that all he’d have to do was move an inch and their lips would meet. His voice grew gruff with emotions he couldn’t even put into words. “You don’t have to worry. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
But what had him?
His heart was beating so sharply with every breath it was almost hurting him. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff about to leap. It was more than sheer adrenaline. More than fear. No, whatever it was that now filled his aching chest was something he’d never felt on the battlefield. It felt like scrambling desperately for a parachute, just so he could give it away.
He opened his eyes and pulled back. But still his hand never left hers.
“So, you know an M67 is a fragmentation hand grenade,” he said. “Modern. Very common.”
“Round and smooth,” she added. “Not bumpy like a pineapple.”
He smiled despite himself. “Right.”
“Filled with shrapnel?” she asked.
“Steel fragments, actually.”
“And I’m guessing just chucking it into the bathtub and running away is not an option?”
“Not a safe one, no. It could blow a hole through the building or take down a wall. And no clean line of escape means the debris could catch us while we were trying to run away.” His eyes searched the room. Then he closed them and weighed his options. There was nothing up here sturdy enough to take or absorb the explosion. Throwing the grenade out the window into busy downtown Toronto could result in the loss of innocent lives. If it detonated inside the apartment the falling debris could still kill people on the street outside.
Dear God, he prayed, help me know what to do. Help me find a way.
“Once the spoon is released what’s the time to detonation?” Her voice dragged his attention back to his face.
“Four seconds,” he said, and opened his eyes. “Maybe five. Depending on the fuse. So, compared to what we went through with the land mine this morning we have tons of time.”
A wan smile crossed her lips.
“Remind me of the casualty radius? How big is the explosion?”
He blinked. There was something about her logical, “just the facts” directness he absolutely adored. “About forty-nine feet or fifteen meters.”
“Okay, Ms. Facts. I have some questions for you,” he said. “How long will it take police to arrive?”
“Seventeen minutes is the average response time in this area. Mostly because of traffic.”
Ouch. “Water will help absorb the explosion. How do we get it to water?”
“It’s a twenty-five-minute walk to Lake Ontario.”
A twenty-five-minute walk through a busy street with a live hand grenade was a bad idea.
“Then here’s what we do,” he said. “I’ll ease my hands away from yours and call the police on your cell phone. Then, while we’re waiting for them to show up, we’ll head downstairs to the parking lot. As much as I hate the idea of you having to carry a live grenade, we’ll be more likely to survive if it detonates outside your apartment. Hopefully there’ll be something like a rain barrel or some other container that will absorb some of the impact if we need to get rid of it fast. That okay by you?”
“Absolutely.” Her eyes met his, firm and unflinching. “I’ve got this.”
Something surged inside his chest. He almost would’ve kissed her. Instead, he pulled away from her slowly, inching his skin off hers, aware of every beat of her pulse under his fingers. He let go and she let out a long, slow breath, as if he’d been the only thing keeping her grounded and she was adjusting to gravity without him. Well, that made two of them.
He reached for the phone.
A voice snarled from the doorway. “Drop it right now and raise your hands! Or I’ll shoot.”
* * *
Samantha jumped. She spun toward the doorway, feeling the hand grenade almost slip from her fingers.
“Get down! Get down on the ground! Now!”
“Hey, man!” Joshua’s voice was calm and steady. “Put the gun down. You don’t want to do this.”
She cradled the grenade to her chest and turned toward the door. It was the man with the square jaw and baseball cap. It was the snoop, the sneak, who’d tried to break into Olivia’s computer, steal her tablet and trail them, and whose face had scowled at them from Yvonne’s flyer. Now here he stood in her doorway, his face flushed with shouting and a gun clasped in both his hands. “You, lady! Drop that! Whatever that is! Hands up. Now!”
“I can’t! It’s a hand grenade.” She tried to shout but could barely hear her own voice over his bellowing. For a moment, her mind filled with the memory of being gagged. Silenced. Her knees trembled, threatening to send her falling to the ground. She swallowed a breath so deep it stung her lungs and refused to let the fear win.
If she dropped that hand grenade, they would all die.
Help me God. With Your help, I will stay strong.
She could hear Joshua arguing with him, trying to calm him down, but he was struggling to even make himself heard, over the torrent of words. “Man, we’re dealing with an explosive. She’s holding a live hand grenade. Let us just call the authorities—”
“I am the authorities! And you’re under arrest.”
“Prove it. If you’re really a cop, show us your badge and a warrant.” The words flew from Samantha’s mouth so automatically, her mind scrambled to catch up.
“My name is Detective Roy Davis!” He kept both hands on the gun. “And I don’t need to show you ID. Now get down, hands up, or I will shoot you!”
Joshua’s mouth set in a firm, grim line and she could tell in an instant he didn’t much trust Roy.
“Listen! I’m holding a live hand grenade!” She stretched her hands out toward him, even knowing that half a room away he’d never be able to tell what she was holding. “I know it probably doesn’t look like one. It was disguised as a Christmas ornament.”
Roy’s eyes flicked slightly. “Where did you get the explosive device?”
“It’s an M67 grenade,” Joshua said. “And if you really are who you claim to be you should back off and call the tactical unit.”
“Not another word from you!” The so-called detective swung his gun toward Joshua. “Lady, where did you get the explosive device?”
“Someone put it on my Christmas tree. But—”
“Who told you it was an explosive device? Did he?”
“He didn’t have to! I’m a fact-checker. I’m familiar with hand grenades!”
“Why is the front door broken?”
She pressed her lips together. It had been exactly like this when she’d been questioned by campus security about the break-in and assault in her dorm room. Barking questions at her. Impatient. Not listening. Making her feel stupid.
“I broke the door down!” Frustration filled Joshua’s voice. “She was in danger and I was locked out. Now, I’ll ask you again, show us your badge and call someone to come deal with this bomb.”
Glee practically danced in Roy’s eyes. What kind of detective was he? “Listen, creep, I know what you’ve done. You’re going to pay.”
“We don’t have time for this!” Authority radiated through Joshua’s voice. “Holster your weapon and let us get help, or I’ll be forced to disarm you!”
A snarl curled on Roy’s lip. He pointed the gun toward Joshua’
s leg. “Let’s see how brave you are with only one knee cap.”
Joshua rushed at Roy, catching him in the chest. For a moment, the men wrestled on the floor, fighting for control of the gun. Then Roy kicked out hard against the table, knocking the canoe off the base. A second kick and her tiny Christmas tree flew from its stand, spreading dirt across the floor. The gun fired. The cabinet shattered behind her.
She ran for the stairs clutching the grenade to her chest like a bird’s egg.
Behind her she could hear the sounds of a struggle, the men fighting, voices shouting, the gun firing again and Joshua calling her name.
She didn’t wait. Her feet pelted down the stairs.
She prayed to God for help. Help to get rid of the grenade without anybody getting hurt. What was she going to do?
She hit the second-floor landing and kept running. Her feet slipped on the worn carpet. She nearly fell as she hit the tiled entranceway, but she threw her weight sideways and landed hard on one knee, wincing in pain as she felt it bruise. She pulled herself up and kept running. The back door to the alleyway loomed ahead.
“Wait! Samantha! What’s going on here?” Yvonne stepped out of her office, blocking her path.
They collided, knocking her landlady to the floor.
“I’m so sorry! Call nine-one-one. Tell them we’ve got an explosive!”
Her body pushed through the back door into the alley and froze, her brain desperately scanning the world around her. Sirens sounded in the distance but she couldn’t tell if they were coming her way. To her right, voices babbled on the busy city streets. To her left, cars lined the narrow alley packed together like sardines.
A third gunshot split the air behind her, shattering the upstairs window. Falling glass rained down around her. She ran deeper into the alley. Her foot slipped on the slick ice.
She fell forward, landing in the slush on her hands and knees.
The grenade fell from her hand and landed in the snow.
Five seconds. She just had five seconds and then it would blow.
She crawled for it.
Four seconds.
Her fingers touched the cold metal orb. She gripped it with her fingertips.
Three seconds.
A hand grabbed her ankle from behind.
Two seconds.
She threw the grenade into the air. Watching it arc ahead of her even as she felt a second hand forcing her body down onto the slushy ground.
One.
The grenade landed in the Dumpster and exploded. She closed her eyes as the wall of snow, water and soggy debris rained down around her.
NINE
Samantha sat up on the hospital bed. Her brain felt fuzzy, and her mouth was dry. Her head throbbed in and out, making the narrow, blue-gray walls pulsate along with it. It had been like this in the hours after that guy had broken into her dorm room in college. Not being able to sleep but not being fully awake either. Knowing something had happened, but feeling like she’d just been sleepwalking through it. And now?
Come on, Samantha. Compile the facts and put them together in a logical order.
She was lying on a hospital bed in her own clothes. She’d run out of her apartment with the hand grenade. She’d been tackled by someone, hadn’t she? Someone had grabbed her, but she’d never seen their face. She’d let the grenade fly. Then there’d been snow and slush exploding around her. Ringing in her ears. Darkness in her eyes. Then police officers in uniform helped her to her feet. Then an ambulance. Then a doctor. Kind hands checking her body, brushing the hair from her face, looking her in the eyes. Kind voices asking her serious questions about what she’d just seen and been through. But it was like she’d watched it all happen to someone else.
She’d cried out for Joshua. That she remembered. Searching everywhere for his face, asking everyone where he was.
And no one could tell her.
She heard footsteps on the other side of the curtain. They were heavy, like winter boots, instead of the soft-soled shoes the doctors and nurses wore. Then there was a gentle knock on the wall beside the hospital curtain. “Hello? Samantha?”
“Joshua!” She swung her feet over the edge of the bed.
The curtain drew back.
A roguishly handsome face with a trim beard and wet mop of hair. Gentle, kind eyes.
“No, sorry. Just me. I’m Alex. Joshua’s friend? But you’re not the first person to make that mistake.”
Oh. The man of many talents who’d recently signed on as a bodyguard for Daniel’s new security company. Guess that meant that she had a new bodyguard.
Alex stepped forward, tentatively, like he was afraid of spooking her. “Joshua called me from the police station and asked me to come get you. Nurse at the front desk told me that you were free to leave as soon as someone came to pick you up. Zoe’s gone to the apartment to get your suitcase and see about getting your door and window replaced.”
She was grateful. But somehow she felt too numb to even figure out how to express it properly. She was vaguely aware that Alex’s words trailed off, like he was waiting for her to say something.
“Where’s Joshua?” she asked. “Is he okay?”
Alex nodded. “He was taken in for questioning.”
She could feel her heart rate pick up. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Do you mean he was arrested? Roy, or whatever his name is, never showed us his ID.”
“My understanding is that Joshua voluntarily went with the police for questioning. I don’t expect he’ll be charged. I don’t know who Roy is.”
“Joshua might have attacked a detective.”
“He did what?” Alex blinked.
“He was protecting me. Roy wasn’t in uniform, didn’t show a badge and wasn’t listening. He pulled a gun on us. I had an explosive device in my hand.” One that had turned out to be all too real. “Joshua saved my life.”
She pressed the heels of her palms against the bed and stood. Almost instantly she felt woozy, like the world still hadn’t come back into focus yet. Her knees wobbled. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You’re hungry, you’re tired and you’ve gone through some pretty serious trauma.” Alex stretched out his arm. “Come on, let’s go meet up with Zoe, get you fed and get you back to the country house. Don’t try to catch a train or make any major decisions until you’ve eaten and slept. You’ll feel better in the morning. Joshua will be okay too. He knows how to take care of himself.”
She let him help her to her feet. And only then realized his watch read quarter after four. “I never called Theresa.”
“It’s okay,” Alex said. “I’m sure she’ll understand and be willing to see you tomorrow. She’s good that way. She’s really good at helping people who’ve been through trauma.”
But what if her brain and heart were both too broken to be fixed?
“Joshua told me you two used to be engaged?”
“We were.” Alex looked down. She followed his gaze as they walked through the hospital hallway. His boots were making puddles of slush on the hospital floor. “A long time ago. She’s extraordinary. But...” He shrugged. “Theresa would be the first one to tell you that liking someone, even loving them, isn’t the same as figuring there’s a way to make a life together.”
Alex left her by the front door of the hospital and went to get the car. There was a coffee shop there. It was small, narrow and crowded. But still someone had taken the time to set up a small, intricately decorated Christmas tree on the counter, complete with tiny clay decorations, and to stencil snowflakes down the glass windows. There was something comforting about it. The idea that even in places that were chaotic, challenging and packed to the brim with worried, stressed-out people, Christmas still went on, in small, thoughtful, caring ways.
It was odd to think that tomorrow was Christmas Eve already. Usually, she’d be curled up at her parents’ house by now, under a quilt, cracking nuts from the same wooden bowl they put out every year. Instead, she still hadn’t ma
de it to the train.
She didn’t notice the curly-haired man in an expensive wool coat sitting at the tiny high table and playing on his cell phone, until he looked her way. Even then, she wasn’t even sure Eric had actually seen her. But either way, the last thing she wanted was for him to look up and see her running out the door.
“Eric!” She raised her voice over the babble and waved a hand in his direction as she weaved her way through the coffee shop toward him.
He looked up.
“Samantha!” A wide smile crossed his boyish face. “What are you doing here?”
She stopped. She’d just assumed that he’d seen the chaos at the apartment building and come here looking for her. He stood up, scooping his cell phone back into his breast pocket. Then the handsome blue eyes that covered billboards from one side of the city to the other locked their full attention onto her. He reached for both her hands, held them out in front of her. “Are you all right? Are you hurt? Please tell me nothing happened to you.”
Well, I found a live hand grenade in my apartment, and then some guy named Roy who claimed to be a detective ran in with a gun, and got into a fight with Joshua. Then I fell and the grenade went off...
“It’s a very long story and I don’t want to get into it right now. There was a major fight between a friend of mine and someone else back at my apartment that led to some damage. But actually I think I’m here because I slipped and fell on the ice.”
“That’s terrible.” He squeezed both her hands together in one of his and despite the intended affection of the gesture, suddenly she remembered the feel of the bonds tying her wrists together. “I hate thinking about you being in this kind of danger. I have a spare room back at my apartment and a pretty decent live-in housekeeper if you’re looking for a safe place. Or I can talk to my mother? Our relationship is tense. She’s a bit clingy and I’ve had to distance myself from her some for the sake of my career, because otherwise she’d totally try to run my life. But I did tell her about you, and the gift to you was actually something she came up with.”
So now he was suggesting she move in with him and his housekeeper, or maybe his clingy mother, who apparently also knew about her?
Kidnapped at Christmas Page 9
