The Only Way Out

by Susan Mallery

Most of the doors stood open and she glanced in them as she moved past. Unmade beds, piles of luggage, luxurious furnishings, but no people. When she approached the end of the hallway and the last three rooms, she heard a voice.

  “I’m not afraid, I won’t be afraid.”

  The soft singsong crooning stopped her in her tracks. Instinctively Andie clutched her hands to her midsection as if she could hold in the pain. Oh, God, what had Kray done to her child?

  She flew down the last few feet of corridor toward the sound. When he was frightened, Bobby would huddle in the middle of his bed and rock back and forth, singing the refrain over and over again. It happened during rare Los Angeles thunderstorms, or when he’d snuck downstairs while she was studying and watched a scary movie. She would hear the soft singing, then curl up next to him on the bed, holding him close until he forgot to be afraid.

  No one knew that, she thought, fighting the tears. No one knew anything about him. He’d spent the past three weeks alone in a terrifying world. Living with strangers, missing her, not knowing how desperate she’d been to be with him.

  She opened the last door on the right and stepped into the darkened room. Drapes had been pulled closed over the wide window. There was a bed in the center of the room, along with stacks of toys, many of them still in their boxes. An untouched breakfast tray sat on a low table.

  Her son lay huddled in the center of the bedspread, his back to her.

  “Bobby,” she said softly.

  The boy turned toward her. His hazel eyes widened; then he sat up slowly as if not able to believe what he was seeing. “Mommy?”

  She moved toward him, holding out her arms. He stood up and launched himself at her. She caught him in midair. He wrapped his sturdy legs around her waist and his arms around her neck. Familiar little-boy smells assaulted her, as his warm, small body pressed against her.

  “Bobby,” she murmured, clutching him closer. His hair was longer, but still felt the same. Her palm moved up and down against his bony spine, feeling the ridges and thin muscles that would one day make him as big and broad as his father.

  He cried, clinging to her as if he would never let go. His relief was as tangible as his thin arms, as real as his words.

  “I missed you,” he said between sobs that nearly ripped her in two. “I called for you, but you didn’t come. Didn’t you hear me?”

  “No,” she said, pressing her cheek against his. She felt the moisture there, then realized their tears mingled. “I wanted to be here, sweetie, but I couldn’t find you right away. I’m here now.”

  Bobby leaned back and stared at her. He sniffed. “I don’t wanna stay, Mommy. I hate Daddy.” He said it defiantly, as if expecting her to scold him. At five, life was simple. Bobby loved his mother, his friends and his teacher. He liked school and tolerated bath time. He hadn’t yet learned to hate. Until Kray had torn him away from the only world he’d ever known. But his anger and fear obviously troubled him. Boys weren’t supposed to hate their fathers.

  Most fathers weren’t Kray.

  “It’s okay,” she promised, then prayed she wasn’t lying. “I’m going to get you—”

  The front door slammed closed. Andie’s heart thumped loudly against her chest as she realized she’d wasted precious time. The nanny had returned. What now?

  She glanced at the open bedroom door. The nanny’s footsteps sounded loud on the tiled floor. She and Bobby couldn’t go back that way. She’d hoped her luck would hold and they could walk out the way she’d come in. But that wasn’t going to happen. Still, she would find another way. She had to; Bobby was depending on her.

  She set him down. He started to protest, but she touched her fingers to his mouth. “Hush,” she whispered. “We have to escape. You must be very quiet. Do you understand? Not a word.”

  He nodded, wide-eyed.

  She moved silently to the door and peered out. The nanny was in the great room by the front door. Andie could see the hem of her dress as she bent over a sofa. They still had a few seconds.

  Andie closed the door quietly and turned the lock in the knob. Then she glanced around to find another way to escape. There were two doors. She tried them both. One led to a closet, the other to a bathroom. That meant they were trapped. Her gaze lingered on the pulled drapes. Unless they went out the window.

  She looked down at her son. He was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, both new. Kray had taken nothing when he’d stolen her child from her. His athletic shoes were sturdy. He would be fine.

  She took his hand tightly in hers, and led the way to the window. “Come on, Bobby. We’ve got to go right now.”

  He stared at her while she opened the drapes, then fumbled with the catch. The glass slid open. She pushed out the screen.

  “Are we ‘scaping?”

  “Yes, we’re escaping.” She released his hand so she could lower the screen to the ground. A blooming azalea bush provided a small amount of cover. From the front of the villa she could hear the tap-tap of the nanny’s heels. The sound kept advancing. Andie didn’t know how much time they had left. They just needed a few seconds. Please, God, grant them that.

  The window was about chest height on her, which meant she needed a step up. She glanced around the room, then saw the child-size chair by the low table. She grabbed it, along with the roll from the untouched breakfast tray. She stuffed the bread in her jeans pocket and placed the chair below the window.

  Andie looked outside. When she didn’t see anyone, she reached for Bobby, picking him up under his arms. He was heavier than he looked, but she was used to his growing weight. She heaved him onto the windowsill, then stepped onto the chair. The plastic seat sagged under her, but didn’t give way. She had him scoot around so his legs were hanging outside the window, then stretched as far as she could, lowering him to about ten inches from the ground.

  “Jump for the last bit,” she said.

  “Okay.” He hunched up for the drop. She released him and he hit the ground in an exaggerated crouch. “Made it, Mom,” he said, grinning up at her.

  His familiar smile made her weak with relief. Whatever Kray had done to him in the past three weeks, it hadn’t destroyed his spirit. Now they just had to get away and off this damned island.

  Using her arms as leverage, she pushed hard off the plastic chair and turned as she moved through the air so that she landed on the windowsill on her hip. She pulled one leg up and through the window, then the other. Motioning Bobby to step back, she dropped to the ground, then picked up the screen.

  The footsteps were definitely louder now.

  “Bobby?” a female voice called. “You can’t stay in your room all morning. It’s a beautiful day. Would you like to play in the water?”

  The footsteps got closer. Andie ducked down behind the building, knowing at any second the nanny was going to try the door and find it locked. She glanced around frantically, wondering which path would be the safest. Fear gripped her, but she had to stay calm. She couldn’t let Bobby know the danger they were in. He’d been through enough.

  A sharp ringing cut through the silence. At first she thought she’d imagined the sound. Then she leaned against the villa and exhaled her relief. The footsteps moved away from Bobby’s room as the nanny went to answer the phone.

  After closing the window, Andie leaned the screen against the glass, hoping it would take the nanny some time to figure out how Bobby had escaped. With any luck the other woman would search through the house before realizing her charge was gone.

  They had a few more seconds reprieve. It would be enough. She took Bobby’s hand and led him around the villa, back toward the way she’d come. She’d left her rented Jeep about a half mile away. It was parked on the side of the highway. All they had to do was get away from the villa and into the low bushes and trees. The undergrowth would protect them. She should know. She’d spent most of yesterday and the four hours since dawn hidden by a small bush, praying no one would discover her. Just thinking about it made her feel itchy a
ll over. For all she knew the plant had been poisonous, but it hadn’t mattered. Getting Bobby out alive was her only priority.

  She kept moving and kept low, hugging the building, making sure they couldn’t be seen from the windows. Bobby trailed behind her. She reached back and pulled him close to her body. He looked worried. Why wouldn’t he be? They were escaping from the man who had casually walked into their town house and kidnapped him on the day of his fifth birthday.

  Big hazel eyes stared up at her. She took the time to brush the hair from his flushed face and smile.

  She picked him up. They would move faster with her carrying him. Besides, they were about to cross open ground. If someone did shoot at them, her body would protect Bobby. She shuddered, not able to believe what she was thinking. This was so far from her regular, boring life. Yet it was painfully real. Kray had threatened to kill her if she came after her son. She believed him.

  “I love you, pumpkin,” she said.

  “I’m not a pumpkin,” he answered, slipping into the familiar game. “I’m a boy.”

  “Really?” She pretended to be surprised. After dropping a quick kiss on his forehead, she took one last look around. “We’re going to run to those trees there,” she said, pointing.

  Bobby looked over his shoulder. “Are you going to go fast?”

  “Yup.”

  “So Daddy can’t find us?”

  He was so young to have had to deal with everything that had happened. Her heart ached for him. But there was no time to discuss it. That would come later. When they got away. If they got away.

  “Yes, Bobby. So Daddy can’t find us.”

  He gripped her arms and buried his head in her shoulder. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  Let’s go, she echoed silently. She moved between two large windows and stood up. The stucco building felt warm. She could feel the sweat on her back. Shorts would have been cooler, but she’d been afraid of getting scratched as she crawled through the brush on her way to the villa.

  “Here we go,” she said softly, and took off across the manicured lawn.

  She moved as quickly as she could, keeping low. Bobby clung to her like a burr, but his weight pulled at her and she could feel the strain on her back and shoulders. Her breath came in rapid pants. At any second she expected to hear the nanny yelling at her to stop. Her muscles tensed in anticipation of the gunshot that would follow, because she sure as hell wasn’t going to stop for anyone.

  She ran hard and fast into the low brush and trees, slowing only to avoid a fall. Just a few more feet, she told herself. Then they would be out of view of the villa.

  She circled around a tall mahogany tree and ducked behind it. Coming to a stop, she leaned against the massive trunk to catch her breath.

  In between her rapid panting, she listened for the sound of someone following. Nothing. Just the call of the gulls and the crash of the waves on the shore. They’d made it.

  Andie clutched Bobby closer and nuzzled his neck, making him giggle. She chuckled with him, then raised her head and took off to her right. After going about ten feet, she turned and doubled back.

  Something moved. She spun around.

  Her scream never got further than her throat. The man had appeared from nowhere. She’d never seen him in all the time she’d been waiting by the villa or heard him moving through the trees. Now he stood in front of her, dressed in military camouflage with a pistol pointing directly at her head.

  Chapter 2

  “Who the hell are you?” Jeff asked, staring at the woman clutching the child to her chest.

  She blinked at him but didn’t answer. The boy in her arms twisted until he could see Jeff; then his mouth dropped open and fear filled his big hazel eyes.

  “Mommy, that man has a gun.”

  “Hush, Bobby, I know.”

  The child looked to be about five or six. Not much older than J.J. had been when he’d been killed in the car explosion. Jeff didn’t want to think about that now. He glared at the woman in front of him. What was going on here? Who was the woman and what was she doing with that kid?

  “Is he going to hurt us?” Bobby asked.

  “I don’t know.” She adjusted her hold on the boy, pulling him more securely against her. Long blond hair had been pulled back into a braid. Her face paled under her slight tan, her eyes were wide, her mouth trembling.

  “Who are you?” she asked with an obvious effort to keep the fear from her voice. “What do you want?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know about you. I saw you climb out of the villa with that kid.”

  His gaze drifted over her cotton T-shirt and jeans. She wasn’t concealing a weapon. He flicked on the Beretta’s safety, then shoved the pistol into the holster attached to his waist.

  Her breathing increased and he could smell her fear. The boy was confused, but not frightened. His mother looked as if she expected to have her throat slit.

  “It has nothing to do with you,” she said, desperation adding an edge to her voice. She sidestepped him and continued moving away from the villa. “Please just let us go.”

  “I can’t do that,” he said. Not after she’d seen him. Whatever kind of game she was playing with Kray, he didn’t want any part of it. Once his old enemy knew he was on the island, Jeff would be marked and hunted until they found him. Some woman with a grudge against her old lover wasn’t about to interfere with what he had to do.

  She spun toward him. Blue eyes met his. He saw her panic. “Oh, God, you work for him.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “You’re going to kill me. No, you can’t. I won’t let you. He can’t have Bobby back. He can’t.”

  She took off running. At first, Jeff was too startled to do more than stare after her. What the hell was she going on about? He didn’t look like one of Kray’s men. They dressed like businessmen and tourists. He glanced down at his camouflage fatigues. He looked as if he were going to lead jungle warfare exercises. But if she was with Kray, she should know all that. And if she wasn’t—

  He loped after her, moving quietly through the dense brush. As he got closer, he heard the sound of her breathing. Bobby clung to her shoulder and stared behind them.

  “I don’t see him, Mommy,” he said quietly.

  “Good.”

  “Was he going to hurt us?”

  Jeff didn’t bother listening to her response. He circled around them and stepped into her path, two feet in front of her. She saw him and stopped instantly.

  Perspiration had collected on her forehead and upper lip. A single drop rolled down to her damp T-shirt. It was barely after ten in the morning, but the temperature was already in the mid-eighties. Warm for late April in the Caribbean.

  Her lips moved, but there was no sound. He realized she was praying. She started backing away from him.

  “No,” she whispered. “No. No. No.” Her breathing came in rapid pants. The child clung to her.

  “Mommy, I’m scared.”

  This was more than a lover’s spat, he realized. She was genuinely terrified. “Who are you?” he asked, frustrated and confused. “What are you doing on Kray’s island and who is that kid?”

  The woman stared at him, then bent over and let the boy slip to the ground. “Run,” she ordered him.

  The child hesitated, hovering near her.

  “Run!” she screamed.

  Bobby took two steps away. Jeff moved toward him. The kid could get lost in the tropical jungle and not be found for weeks, if ever.

  The woman sprang between him and her child. She raised her fists in front of her and balanced on the balls of her feet as if she expected him to physically fight her.

  “Listen, lady, let’s just calm down.” He didn’t need a hysterical woman on his hands.

  “Run, Bobby,” she called and lunged forward.

  Jeff sidestepped neatly, letting her run harmlessly past him. The boy hovered by a large mahogany tree and clasped his arms tightly in front of him. He began to rock back an
d forth.

  Jeff started toward him when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to the right as the woman barreled into his left side. Before he could reach out and steady her, she’d curled her fingers into claws and started going for his eyes.

  “Damn it, woman, be careful,” he muttered, grabbing her upper arms to hold her off.

  She wrenched free of him and kicked at his knees. Great. She’s had just enough self-defense training to hurt herself, he thought grimly as he jumped out of the way and caught her neatly around her midsection. She screamed and fought him, her hands pulling at his hold. He hauled her hard against him. Her heel came down on his foot. He barely felt the impact through his heavy boots. Her elbow connected with his belly. He exhaled audibly.

  Then something or someone rushed him. Small hands grabbed his shirt.

  “You let go of my mommy. Let go!”

  Jeff turned toward the boy. The woman took advantage of his distraction and went for his gun. He read her intentions before she even got close to the pistol, but it was enough. His brain shut down and he reacted instinctively.

  His left hand clamped down hard on her right wrist. With one quick, fluid movement he jerked her arm around behind her, pinning her hand to her back. She winced in pain. He spun them both, putting the woman between him and the boy, then wrapped his right arm around her neck, cutting off her supply of air. He applied enough pressure to frighten her, but not enough to kill.

  “Now that I have your attention,” he said softly, “you’re going to answer a few questions.”

  He could feel the heat of her body and the curve of her breast where it brushed against his elbow. She trembled against him.

  “I’m going to let you breathe enough to talk, but I’m not going to let you go. If you give me any more trouble, I’ll make you very uncomfortable. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  He loosened his hold on her throat. She gasped in a breath of air, then coughed. Bobby rushed at her. “Let her go! You let go of my mommy. My daddy will come back on his big boat and he’ll hurt you.”

  Sunlight filtered through the trees and brush around them. The scent of the saltwater and the faint crash of the surf drifted toward them. Jeff stared at the boy, hearing his words, but not wanting to believe them.