by Terri Reed
Ryan broke away from the van to talk to Meghan. His heart softened when he saw her. She sat in the passenger seat of Cribs’s cruiser at the end of the block with a view of the back of the house and alley—her pretty lips pursed in annoyance. He understood how she felt. It was never fun being sidelined when you wanted to be a part of the action. He appreciated that she hadn’t put up a fuss when Officer Cribs had driven her far enough away that she wouldn’t be in danger.
He leaned down to look into the open passenger window. “You okay?”
“I will be once you get Georgina,” she said, her gaze meeting his.
The trust, the confidence in her gaze made him more determined to fulfill the promise he’d made to her. “It won’t be long now. You stay here, no matter what.”
She frowned. “Meaning?”
He hated to scare her any more than she already was, but she had to know how dangerous this situation was. “This could get ugly. I doubt the men who have Georgina are going to come willingly or quietly.”
She arched an eyebrow. “In other words, if I hear gunfire I should duck?”
Liking her pluck, liking her, he nodded. “Exactly. I’ll send Cribs back to stand guard.”
“I’m safely tucked inside this car. I’ll roll up the window and lock the doors. Let Cribs help. You need all hands on this.”
Maybe, but her safety was his responsibility. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. Would never forgive himself if she got hurt. She’d come to mean a lot to him. More than he’d ever thought possible. He’d never intended for that to happen. But it had. No, Cribs would be returning. Ryan didn’t want to be worrying about Meghan when he needed to be concentrating on Georgina.
“I promise I won’t do anything stupid,” she said, as if sensing his thoughts. “If I got in the way and something happened to Georgina because of me…”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to her,” he assured her.
“I know.”
Her confidence warmed him. He tapped the door. “It’s time. See you in a few.”
“Ryan.” She reached out through the window and grabbed his hand and halted him from leaving.
“Yes?”
Concern lit up her lovely hazel eyes. “Please be careful.”
She cared. About him. The realization sent his blood pulsing. “You’re worried about me,” he said in a little bit of awe.
She tugged him closer. “Yes, I am. Please, promise me you won’t take any chances.”
“I promise.” He closed the distance between them to place a light, gentle kiss on her sweetly shaped mouth.
She inhaled sharply, a quick breath that stilled his.
He felt the surprise on her lips. He drew back, unsure of her reaction. Unsure of his own. Had he overstepped the bounds of their… He was loath to qualify their association as a relationship. Yet…
Her fingertips slowly rose to touch the spot where he’d kissed her. Color heightened the contours of her cheekbones.
His ego puffed up. Were her lips tingling like his?
He wished he could stay and explore the sensations and emotions knocking around inside him, but duty called. A child’s life hung in the balance, and giving in to his attraction and the affection invading him wasn’t an option.
He gave her a mock salute and hustled away. Glancing back once, he felt a pang of tender fondness that slowed his steps. If he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself falling for her.
With determination, he broke into a jog.
Time to take down the bad guys, rescue the little damsel in distress and make it back in one piece to the woman who’d woven her way under his skin and laid siege to his heart.
A feat he thought no woman capable of.
* * *
Meghan chewed at her lip as the minutes ticked by. So far no gunfire. A good sign, she hoped.
She hated that her view of the street and the house was limited to the carport and back alley. Her foot tapped against the floorboards. Anxious energy zinged along her nerve endings, making sitting inside the stifling cruiser unbearable. She caught sight of Officer Cribs at the corner. He’d stopped to talk to a woman who’d come out of her house. No doubt telling her to go back inside where it was safe.
She should have known Ryan wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone. He was such a caring man underneath the gruff exterior. She hoped nothing happened to him.
Worry churned in her tummy. She cracked open the window, needing some fresh air.
A vehicle turned down the back alley and stopped beside the carport. She recognized the van. Her pulse skidded out of control. It was the same van with masked gunmen that had followed her off the freeway and had opened fire on her and Ryan. Panic seized her in a tight grip.
Two big, brawny men rushed out of the side doors each carrying an infant carrier with a squalling baby. The sound pierced her heart.
They put the babies inside a big white side-panel van, with no plates. Her blood turned to ice.
Another man left the house. He looked vaguely familiar but it was the toddler in his arms that stole her breath. Her stomach dropped. Georgina! Her wispy blond curls were matted, her pj’s dirty.
They were escaping with the children.
Cribs had taken the cruiser’s keys with him. She had no way of stopping the men from taking off with Georgina and the babies.
The horn!
She laid on the car horn with all her might.
The van’s engine roared toward her.
Cribs ran down the sidewalk toward the cruiser.
She’d gained his attention, but unfortunately, she’d given away her presence to the bad guys in the van. The van screeched to a halt in the street beside the cruiser. The side-panel door on the van slid back and one of the men jumped out. Fear clogged her throat. The man tried the car door handle. The lock held. She drew back, thankful she’d heeded Ryan’s request and stayed locked safely in the car.
Cribs drew his weapon. Through the crack in the window Meghan heard him yell, “Stop. Police.”
Ignoring Cribs, her attacker pulled away his elbow then smashed it into the window. Meghan screamed and dove sideways to avoid flying glass.
The lock popped. The door opened. Terrorized, Meghan grabbed at the driver’s door handle as a beefy arm snagged her around the waist and yanked her roughly out of the car. She let loose a terror-filled scream. He dragged her to the van. She kicked and yelled to no avail.
Cribs fired a shot. The sound echoed in Meghan’s brain, sending her already galloping pulse into hyperdrive. Her insides felt like any second she might explode. Her attacker didn’t hesitate. He threw her into the van like a sack of potatoes between the space dividing the front buckets and the middle seat bench. She landed on the floor with a thunk. Pain exploded in her hip where her cell phone dug into her flesh from inside the pocket of her capris. The man jumped in the van after her.
“Halt! Police!” Cribs cried again.
The door slid closed with a slam as the van shot forward. More gunfire. Bullets pinged off the van’s back doors.
Shaking, Meghan pulled herself upright between the seats, forcing her terrified mind to take stock of the situation. There were three men in the vehicle—the driver, a man in the passenger seat and another crouched on the floor between the front captain seats.
Her frantic gaze sought Georgina. The little girl sat in the far backseat strapped in with a seat belt across her small body between two red-faced infants in tattered car seats. The babies wailed and Georgina screeched as she plucked at the buckle trying to remove the seat belt.
Meghan climbed over the bench seat to attend to the children. She squatted as best she could on the floor between the back of the bench seat and the babies.
“Shh,” she cooed, trying to calm Georgina and the two crying babes. Her heart swelled with love and fear.
One of the men in the front threw a glance toward her. “Why’d we grab her?”
“Roman will be pleased. He’ll take great pleasure in killing her himself,” the driver replied with an evil smile. “It’ll make up for failing to take her out the first time we tried.”
Meghan swallowed back the wild rise of terror as horrible thoughts invaded her mind and tried to rob her of her any coherent thoughts. Despair welled up to choke her as the van continued on unimpeded. Sirens wailed in the distance. The van made lots of turns, obviously making an effort to lose themselves in the sea of New York City traffic.
She’d never see Ryan again. He would feel responsible for her capture. He was the kind of man who took ownership even when it wasn’t his to take. He was such a good man, full of integrity and honor. Unlike his father.
She pushed the uncharitable thought aside. She needed to stay focused on what was happening and how to get out of this while protecting the babies.
She had to find a way to let Ryan know where she was, give him a clue how to find her. Because she trusted he’d never give up looking for her and Georgina.
The van rounded a turn. She fell on her backside. Her throbbing hip reminded her that she had her phone.
Carefully, she inched the phone out of her pocket with one hand while comforting Georgina with the other. Keeping the phone low and out of sight, she punched in 9–1–1.
She hoped it connected but couldn’t dare chance bringing the phone to her ear to find out. Her only hope was to leave the line open anyway and pray for the best.
TEN
“Clear.”
“Clear.”
The word reverberated through the empty dwelling as several officers running point called out from various positions inside the house. The criminals had escaped out the back before the police had gotten into position.
Frustration bit a chunk out of Ryan’s nerves. How was he going to tell Meghan they’d hit another dead end? Dread at how she’d take the news chewed at his gut.
A commotion at the front door drew his attention as he struggled to retrieve the phone. Cribs, looking harried and panicked, gestured as he spoke to Captain Gregson. Why wasn’t the officer with Meghan?
“Where’s Meghan?” Ryan demanded.
“She was taken. A silver van. Heading south,” Cribs replied, his face ashen.
Terror slammed into Ryan. Taken? A silver van? Images of masked gunmen, bullets flying, the blood on her arm ripped through his mind. How?
“Did you get the license plate number?” Ryan asked, his voice shaking.
Cribs shook his head. “No plates.”
Just like the van that had chased them. It had to be the same men. Fear, stark and ugly, squeezed his lungs tight.
Meghan. Her name reverberated through his heart.
“We’ll put out a BOLO, start a citywide search,” Gregson said. “We’ll find her.”
Forcing himself to breathe, Ryan nodded. They had to find her. Digging deep within his soul, he found the edges of his faith and held on with all he was worth. Dear Lord, please let me find her.
“Captain!” another officer yelled. “Nine-one-one received a call. They traced the cell number. It belongs to Meghan Henry.”
With hope clawing at his chest, Ryan knew they had a chance of finding her. They could use her cell phone as a GPS and, God willing, rescue her before it was too late.
* * *
The van finally stopped. A fresh wave of fear washed over Meghan. Stopping meant facing this Roman person. She shuddered. “Please, Lord, deliver me, us, from this horror,” she whispered.
Through the back window Meghan saw large metal crates stacked two or three high, creating a barrier between the road and the ocean. Commercial freighters and cargo ships lined the docks while several barges and tugboats squeezed between the large vessels, looking like toys. A shipping yard.
The three men climbed out, leaving Meghan and the children unwatched for the moment. This was her chance. Her heart beat in her throat. She bent forward and brought the phone closer. Static. The call had ended. Or maybe never connected in the first place. Praying for another chance, she pressed Redial.
The back double doors of the van jerked open. The briny scent of the ocean swirled around Meghan’s head. She straightened with a start, tucking the phone between her knees.
“Hey, what are you doing?” one of the thugs yelled from the doorway.
She held up the pacifier she’d found on the floor.
The guy grunted. “Get out.”
“What about the babies?” she asked, not about to leave them unattended.
“We’ll get ’em,” he said with impatience lacing his words.
Needing time to slip the phone back in her pocket unobserved, she purposely made a clumsy attempt at climbing over the seat. She managed to pocket the phone just as the big beefy guy who’d manhandled her earlier grabbed her by the upper arms and dragged her through the back of the van. The kids were hauled out with more care. Meghan scooped up Georgina. Immediately, her little arms went around Meghan’s neck, her dimpled hands fisting in Meghan’s hair. A stab of love pierced through the fear choking her.
The driver of the van grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward a midsize cargo ship wedged in between a flat-bottomed barge and a massive freighter. The rusted metal and chipped paint showed years out on the sea. Overhead a gull cried. The brackish smells filling the air turned Meghan’s stomach.
Practically jogging to keep pace with the man dragging her closer to her fate, Meghan clutched Georgina in a tight grip.
They were taken to a hold below the deck of a black-and-red cargo ship. A hard shove pushed her inside a dank room, barren except for a large cabinet in one corner. The thug stood guard at the door. A moment later the two other babies still strapped into their carriers were brought in by one of the goons. The room filled with the stench of soiled diapers.
“These children need attending to,” she told the thug.
One of the men went to the cabinet and opened the doors. “Here you go.”
Inside the cabinet were diapers, extra clothes, bottles, cans of formula, jugs of water and blankets. Her heart squeezed tight at the evidence that having babies aboard the vessel wasn’t an unusual occurrence.
How many more children had ended up locked in this room? Who had tended to them, surely not these rough men?
The door banged shut behind the thugs, the noise echoing off the metal walls. The lock sliding into place sounded like a death knell, making Meghan shiver with dread and apprehension. Frantic, she grabbed her cell phone. Her fingers fumbled on the keys. The static beep of the phone shuddered through her. No service.
She dropped on her knees and gathered Georgina close and prayed for protection and rescue. The cry of the infants tugged at her heart. They needed her, too.
Taking care of the babies gave her something to concentrate on besides their dire predicament. The babies, one boy and one girl, couldn’t have been more than six months old. Their dimpled cheeks and chubby little bodies looked well fed and cared for. Who did they belong to? Why were they in the hands of these monsters?
The questions threatened to tear down Meghan’s defenses. But she would not cry or despair, not when she had these little souls depending on her.
At nearly two years old, Georgina was a big help, handing Meghan the diapers. Love for the little girl swelled in Meghan’s chest. How could Christina have given her over to these awful men?
As soon as she had the babies clean and content on a blanket she’d laid out, she checked the cell again. Still no signal. She let out a frustrated growl and tucked the phone back into her poc
ket. It would take a miracle of God for Ryan to find her.
Thankfully, Meghan believed in miracles of God.
After a while the babies fell asleep sprawled out on the blanket. Meghan rocked a sleepy Georgina, softly singing an Irish lullaby Meghan’s mother used to sing to her. Only, when her mother had sung the song, she’d had the lilting cadence of her native tongue, which made the song so much more meaningful. Meghan couldn’t roll her Rs, no matter how hard she tried, so the lullaby lost a bit of its sparkle, but it did the trick. Soon Georgina was fast asleep in Meghan’s arms.
She relished this moment of peace and quiet. The fear hovered, but for the time being they were alive and safe. She wished Ryan would walk through the door. Only then would she feel secure. She’d give anything to hear his voice, to see him. To have him hold her close and tell her everything would work out.
She want him to kiss her again. She wanted to kiss him back.
Silent tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. She cared deeply for Ryan Fitzgerald. And she may never get to see him again. She sent up a gut-wrenching plea that he’d find her and she’d have a chance to tell him.
The lock on the door slid open, the noise grating in the quiet of the room. Alarm seized her heart, making the muscle stall as the door swung open. Blessedly the children slept undisturbed by the noise. Their crying had tuckered them out.
One of the thugs stepped in. Wirier with blond hair and beady eyes, he was the man she’d thought seemed familiar. Now looking at him, she flashed back to when Christina had burst through the stairwell door. This man had been with her. So much for her saying she didn’t know him.
He motioned for her to come with him.
Grateful for his silence, she gently laid Georgina on the blanket between the sleeping infants. Meghan’s heart pitched to think what torment the child would feel if she awoke and Meghan were gone. She didn’t want to leave her little charges. “Please,” she whispered. “Please let us go.”
