by Robin Perini
Amanda paced around the room, unable to settle anywhere and paused in front of the television.
"Mommy, you're in my way."
"Sorry, honey." She scooted to the side and glanced at her watch. Blake should be back soon.
A rhythmic knock sounded at the door.
She peered through the peephole and caught sight of Blake's Stetson before unlocking the chain. "I thought you took the key."
The door shoved in, slamming her against the wall. Her head snapped back, and her skull exploded with pain.
Two men in ski masks barreled into the room.
"Ethan! Run!"
Amanda struggled free from behind the door just as the smaller man grabbed Ethan. He screamed and Leo leaped at the man's arm, growling as he clamped down. With a curse, the larger man kicked the dog, forcing him to let go. The man shoved his boot against Leo's side, and he hit the corner of the dresser with a yelp, slumping to the ground, still.
She had to get to the gun. Amanda raced toward the closet. The large man grabbed her by the waist just as she slid open the door.
"Oh no, you don't."
He twisted her around and threw her on the bed. Amanda let her momentum carry her onto the bed, then she rolled to the other side.
"Don't hurt my mommy!" Ethan screamed. He kicked and squirmed in the man's arms, clawing at the four-leaf clover patch on the man's elbow. She jumped on the intruder's back, gripping his hands to pry Ethan loose from his hold.
The kidnapper cursed as meaty hands clutched her arms and yanked her off the smaller man's back. Desperate, Amanda whirled around and tore off the big man's ski mask. She dragged her fingernails down his cheek drawing blood. He cried out and, with a quick move, pinned her against the wall. He slapped her, and her jaw exploded in pain.
"Put the kid in the trunk," he ordered the other man, his voice soft and oh so cold. "I have some unfinished business to take care of."
He smiled at her, his eyes malevolent with purpose.
"Ethan!" she screamed as he was carried out the door, hollering and crying for her. "Don't take my son!"
The smaller man looked back, hesitated, but then Ethan yelled even louder. Frantically, the kidnapper looked right, then left and disappeared out the hotel room door, shoving it closed.
Ethan was gone.
She was alone with the dead-eyed man.
Oh, God. She had to get out of here. She had to get to Ethan.
"Damn it. You took my knee out. You shot me." He put a hand to his bleeding cheek. "You shouldn't have done that," he said softly. "You're going to pay."
The bear of a man momentarily eased his grip, and Amanda raced for the door. He just laughed and grabbed her by the hair, tugging until the pain made her eyes water. He shoved her on the bed and sat on her legs.
Amanda twisted and turned to buck him off. She tried to reach him to scratch his face, but she couldn't. He just smiled and unbuckled his belt.
Frantically, Amanda looked toward the closet. The gun. Could she somehow get to it?
"I saw the .45 up there. You won't get the chance." The big man slipped the leather strap from the loops. "Good thing hotel clerks watch a lot of TV."
Beefy hands grabbed her by her throat and squeezed. She couldn't breathe. Spots danced in front of her eyes. "We want Vince's evidence. Wait here for a call on the hotel phone. Deliver what we want, or you won't see your kid again."
He held her down with one hand and took out a knife, twisting it in her face, taunting her with the shiny blade.
This couldn't be happening. She couldn't die. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound escaped the hold he had on her throat. She kicked out her legs, trying to break his hold.
He just laughed.
He lowered the blade.
She closed her eyes.
With a single slice, he cut her sweatshirt down the middle. "You won't ever forget what I did."
Oh, God. Please. No.
* * *
BLAKE HAD DITCHED his Stetson and lowered a baseball cap over his brow. He jostled the paper grocery sack in front of his face. He'd been thankful the superstore had been in walking distance. He hadn't wanted to chance exposing the SUV, and a small grocery would have attracted too much attention.
He rounded the corner to the motel. The door to room eight was open.
His stomach fell. He dropped the bag and ran.
Amanda lay in the center of the bed cuffed to the metal headboard with zip ties. Blake's stomach lurched. Her sweatshirt was torn away from her body; dried blood surrounded a cut above her breast. One eye was swollen shut. She didn't move. Leo lay in the corner, still.
Blake raced across the room and with a shaking hand touched her cheek, terrified she would be cool to the touch. She shrank back from him with a whimper. He stilled. Even as his heart cracked in pain, his knees shook in relief. She was alive.
"It's me, Amanda. Blake. I'm going to get these off you." He pulled a pocketknife from his jeans and cut through the plastic.
She whimpered when he eased her arms down to her side. A shuddering breath escaped her bleeding lips, and she pried her eyes open to look at him.
The pain in her gaze hurt his heart. He cupped her face. "Amanda? Can you hear me?"
"Ethan," she croaked, a tear squeezing from the corner of her eye and trailing down her cheek. "They took Ethan. Please find him."
Blake ran out the motel room door, but there was no sign of a car, a van or anything out of the ordinary. Not that he'd expected it. He would've noticed walking up. He grabbed the groceries then closed and locked them in.
"How many?" he asked, sitting next to her on the bed, afraid to get too close, afraid he'd hurt or frighten her.
"Two. Ski masks. I tore one off. Scratched him. Then he did this."
She raised a trembling hand to the mark on her breast. He took her hand in his and covered her chest with the torn shirt. As gently as he could, he threaded his fingers through hers as she told him everything her attacker had said. Chills skittered down his spine with each word. Terror burned behind his eyes. They could have killed her.
"God, I'm sorry. I should never have left you." Sick to his stomach, he walked into the bathroom and leaned over the sink. He gripped the porcelain and wanted to snap it in two. He wished it was the bastard's neck. With a long exhale, he stared at his face in the mirror. He was no closer to discovering who was behind it, and now they'd taken Ethan. The only chance Amanda's son had was a ransom demand...or Logan. Blake took several thin washcloths, walked back into the bedroom and dumped a handful of ice in one of them.
He sat on the bed beside her and settled the ice pack on her swollen eye, then gently washed the blood from her skin. "Did he rape you?" He could barely form the words.
She choked back a sob. "I thought he was going to. Then he marked me with his knife." Amanda covered the curve of her breast where a B-shaped cut marred the pale perfection that he'd kissed and caressed last night. "He wanted me to know who was to blame."
Blake held the anger inside, simmering like dry kindle waiting to flare. The man was dead.
She struggled to sit up. "I'm not important. They want the evidence or they'll...kill...Ethan." She could barely form the words. Her nails bit into his arm, her expression panicked. "We don't have it. What are we going to do? How can we get him back?"
He couldn't comfort her, but as gently as he could, he pressed her back against the bed. Blake scanned her pale face, her bruised face, the cut peeking beneath her torn shirt. "Please, Amanda, take a deep breath. You could have a concussion. I promise I'll find Ethan, but I've got to get you to a doctor."
She met his gaze and shook her head. "We can't afford to get help. I'll live with the headache."
"Okay, okay. At least let me look," he said gently.
She lifted her gaze to him and nodded, the trust in her eyes more than he could stand. He hadn't been there for her. As gently as he could, he checked her scalp, grimacing at the bump, and all the while cursing himself insi
de. Guilt sliced at his heart. "We can doctor the cut with antibiotic ointment, but you've got a major knot." He pressed lightly at the side of her head. She flinched but didn't cry out as he finished examining her injuries.
Every bruise made him want to shove his fist through the wall.
As he finished, a whine sounded from across the room. Blake lasered on the noise. Leo lay against the wall, licking at what was clearly a broken leg. "Ah, boy." He stood and walked over to the dog. "You tried to save him." Blake rubbed Leo's ears, gave the dog a comforting pat and stood. "You need a vet, and I need backup."
He took out the second cell phone, then paused. Every time he'd called Logan it had ended in disaster. Parris and his mom were missing. Deputy Smithson was in a coma. Ethan had been taken.
He had to wonder. Could Logan have a mole?
He tapped the phone against this jeans, then dialed a number.
"Come on, Mom," he muttered. "Pick up."
Amanda shifted to a sitting position. "No, don't involve her. It's too dangerous."
"Parris is with her. If they can get a message to Logan, they can tell him he's got a leak in his organization. He can take additional precautions."
"What if the problem is Logan?" Amanda said quietly. "He could lose his entire business and his ranch if he doesn't play with the police. Maybe he decided--"
"No way. You don't know what Logan's been through. He'd never put a woman and child at risk."
"You trust him that much?"
Blake turned to her, hunched in a position to protect her injured body. He didn't blame her for being skeptical, but he knew his friend's past. He knew the kind of man Logan was. "Without a doubt." He dialed his mother's number again. Straight to voice mail.
He drummed his fingers against the phone. He had no choice, but he could make the call count. He dialed Logan.
"Carmichael."
"Call this number from somewhere secure." Blake let his hand hover over the off button, listening for any telltale clicks to indicate they were being monitored.
"I am secure," Logan said.
"I can't be too careful."
"Gotcha."
The phone went silent.
Blake pocketed the phone. "I'm going to refill the ice. You're going to need it."
"You want to talk to Logan without me," Amanda said. "Some partner."
At the ringing phone, Amanda narrowed her gaze at him. Blake pressed the speakerphone button with a sigh. "Ethan's been kidnapped. They hurt Amanda."
Logan let out a string of curses. "Get out of there."
"We can't. They're calling back on the hotel phone with instructions. They want the evidence."
Logan paused. "Take me off speaker."
Blake met Amanda's gaze, then pressed the mute button. "Please," he said. "He needs to feel free to say anything."
She raised her gaze, the pain in her eyes enough to break his heart.
"He thinks Ethan is dead."
Blake could barely hear her words as she choked them out.
"I don't," he said. "They could have killed you both. They still want something." He raised the phone to his ear. "Speakerphone is off," he said into the mouthpiece as he clasped her hand in his, rubbing her palm, trying to give her comfort.
"They need the evidence for some reason."
"I know."
"The boy might already be dead."
"I don't think so," Blake muttered. "If I'm them, I want to know what he knows and who he told. Just in case. And I still think Ethan may have the key to the password."
Amanda let out a sob. Blake tucked her against his side, praying she wouldn't feel alone.
"I'm in the dark here, Logan. I need equipment, weapons. We can't just sit and wait until they decide to call."
Amanda clutched his arm. "I need to read those emails again. There's got to be a clue."
"And a computer and internet access."
"You got it," Logan said. "Anything else?"
"I tried calling Mom. She didn't answer."
"We haven't located her. Or Parris. But knowing that cagey old man, they're probably holed up someplace secure."
"Keep looking," Blake said. "I'm getting worried. I need to know they're safe. Any more from Zane?"
"No. I've never seen him so pissed off. Vince must have been really good."
"I never realized. I just thought he liked gadgets. Is there a way to get more than two more tries at that password?"
"Not according to Zane. If he fiddles with it, the thing will turn into unrecognizable bits and bytes."
"If Vince gave the password to Ethan..." Blake met Amanda's gaze and she shut her eyes in pain. He stroked her back. "We won't have the evidence until we find him."
"Let me send backup along with the supplies, Blake."
He rubbed the bridge of his nose where an ache began to throb. "Who do you trust more than anyone?"
"Rafe. He had my back in that mess three years ago. He doesn't quit. He never leaves anyone behind. I should know."
Blake recognized the loyalty. "Okay, send him to the Shady Rest Motel. Room 8."
"That place is a dump."
"There are only a few places that don't take credit cards. This is one of them."
Logan paused and called out to someone. "He can be there in an hour. He wears a patch. Injured his eye in Afghanistan. You can't miss him."
"Thanks, Logan."
"Just find the kid."
"I will."
They ended the call, and Blake felt Amanda's chilled body shiver against him. He walked to the closet. "Bastard took my grandad's Colt," he said, as he grabbed an extra blanket.
"I'm sorry."
"Granddad wouldn't have liked anyone but a Redmond touching it."
Amanda picked up the phone. "It has a dial tone. How long will it take them to call?"
"They'll want us to sweat. They want us to worry."
"I already am."
"Me, too." He sat down beside her. "Let me check the bullet wound."
She nodded, and he lifted her shirt probing at the gash in her side. "It's improved. Not so inflamed. Looks like we treated it enough to fight off the infection." Keeping his touch as gentle as possible, he cleaned the area. "Seems like I spend all my time trying to get you out of your clothes. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind the job," he tried to joke, but the world didn't seem funny right now. He sighed. "I hate seeing you hurt."
He stripped off his sweater, then the flannel shirt beneath it.
"Blake," Amanda began. "I don't think I--"
"As much as I want to make love to you every second of every day, I know that's not what you need," he said quietly. He threw aside the torn sweatshirt and eased her arms into the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up until her hands peeked through. "This will keep you warm."
He helped her button up, and finally tucked the blanket around her. He slipped into his sweater, then settled on the bed next to her and pulled her against him. He kept his Glock within reach. "Try to rest," he said quietly.
He stroked her auburn hair, the blue in his flannel reflecting in her eyes. "You really are amazing. And beautiful."
She shook her head and pushed back her hair probing her swollen eye with her fingertips. "You're a liar."
"Amanda," he said quietly. "I don't lie."
She ducked her head into his chest. "Do you think Ethan's okay?"
He refused to take her bait. He honestly didn't know. "Ethan's smart. He has more courage than any kid I know."
She gripped his sweater. "There's only one way for this to end, isn't there?"
"The lawman in me wants to arrest the bastards and have them pay for what they've done. The father and lover wants to send them to hell in short order."
She shivered. "I keep seeing that man taking Ethan. They put him in a trunk, Blake. Ethan hates the dark."
She hid her face against his sweater and finally let her tears fall. Each sob wrenched a piece of Blake's soul. He couldn't do anything but wait. Wait on Logan. W
ait on the kidnappers. Wait on Rafe.
His prepaid phone rang.
Blake picked it up.
"It's Logan. You got TV, Blake?"
He grabbed the remote. "Yes."
"Turn it on. Oh man, I'm so, so sorry."
Blake's gut turned over. The picture flickered. A photo of his mother's neighborhood stared back at him from the small screen.
"Minutes ago, a charred body was discovered in the smoldering remains of a home in the small community of Carder, Texas. Sources from the fire department say the home belonged to the mother of the local sheriff, Blake Redmond, who is one of the subjects of an ongoing manhunt by the Austin Police Department."
"The body is burned beyond recognition." Logan let out a sigh. "God, I'm sorry."
Chapter Twelve
Amanda's stomach heaved as Blake turned off the television. Her heart shattered into a million pieces. She couldn't think. Couldn't feel. It had to be a mistake. She gripped Blake's sweater. This couldn't be happening.
"Blake, you there?" Logan's voice sounded through the phone.
"Are you sure it's her?" Blake asked, his voice too steady. "Can you find out?"
"I'll try."
"What about Parris? He was with her." Blake shoved a hand through his hair. "I want to know who's responsible."
The ice in Blake's voice made Amanda shudder. His face had gone hard as stone. His eyes turned cold, his arms dropped from around her, he sat on the side of the bed, his back to her. He'd closed off, and she didn't blame him. The world had collapsed around him.
"Blake--" Logan began.
"Don't start. You know what I have to do."
The man on the other end of the phone whispered an order she couldn't make out. "I understand. Rafe's on his way."
"I need to know what happened, Logan."
Blake ended the call and stared at the phone, unseeing. To some he might appear to be perfectly in control, but Amanda knew better. His jaw throbbed and his hand shook. He cared more than any man she'd ever known. He'd put his life and family on the line for her and Ethan. Her eyes burned with tears. Nancy couldn't be dead.
She touched his shoulder, her stroke tentative. "Maybe it's not--"
"Don't." He shrugged her away and stood up.
