by Alex Ander
Hugging himself, his PPQ45 in hand and pointing behind him, Randall dropped his forehead onto her knees. His chest heaved, but he could not force oxygen to where it was needed. He held up an index finger and pumped it a couple times. A tick later, he sucked in two short breaths and righted his head a few inches, his lips grazing her knees.
Faith felt a tingling sensation race further up her body.
He threw out his chest, filled his lungs for the first time since taking the first punch, and exhaled.
A warm breeze whooshing over her legs, she eyed the top of her rescuer’s head.
“You’re,” he swallowed, grabbed more air, straightened his back, and placed his left hand on the sofa, “you’re welcome, Miss Mahoney.”
“Are,” she glanced down at the thumb touching her right leg before coming back to him, “are you okay?”
A pained expression overtook his features while he pressed his left elbow to his side. “Mostly.” A beat. “Now, we need to go before,” he jerked his head toward the dead man, “this guy’s buddy shows up. Those gunshots were nowhere close to being silent.” Laying his Walther on the cushion, he retrieved his knife, flicked open the blade, and curled arms around her as if he were going in for a hug. “Is there anything on you,” he worked the knife back and forth over her restraints, “I need to look at?”
Dipping her chin, she saw his head next to her bare chest while she felt his jacket sliding over her inner thigh. “I’m sorry. Is there some part of me you haven’t seen?”
He freed her, leaned back, and put away his cutting tool, a frown on his face. Catching her drift, he nodded. “I’m an adult. I’ve seen boobs and butts before.” Standing, he took off his suit coat and draped the clothing over her shoulders. “I’m...”
She slipped arms into the covering.
“...talking about injuries. Are you bleeding somewhere? Do you have any broken bones? Anything I need to address right now?”
“No.” She fastened buttons. “I’m fine.”
“What about this?” He gingerly touched a bruise on her left cheek.
She recoiled. “It’ll heal.”
Randall flicked a thumb toward the dead man. “Did he do that?”
“Well, I certainly didn’t run into any doorknobs.”
“And I assume you didn’t get that cut on your neck from shaving either.” He faced the corpse. “His death came too soon. I wish I could’ve spent more time with him.” Randall poked his chin at her. “So you’re okay then?”
“I’m okay.”
“Good.” After reclaiming his firearm and taking her hand, “Let’s go, Miss Mahoney,” he escorted her to the front door. “My ride’s,” he turned the knob and pulled, but the barrier remained in place, “down the—”
“Forget it. It has screws all around the perimeter.”
He stood taller. “Well, that sucks.”
Faith recalled her escape attempt from earlier. “Tell me about it.”
Randall faced the way he had come. “How many men are here?”
“Two...that I’ve seen.”
Remembering how he had entered the dwelling, through an open back door, he pointed that way. I don’t want to chance it again. He turned to Faith. “Are there any other entry points that you know of?”
“There’s a garage.”
From somewhere in the house, a man’s voice: “Time to do the broad and get going, Mason. The other guys just rolled up outside.”
Randall whipped his head toward Faith and lowered his voice. “I thought you said there were only two men.”
“Yeah...that I’ve seen.”
Randall put the newcomer’s position near the back half of the house. He envisioned the bolted front door behind him. “We’re trapped.” He drew the woman in his care closer to him. “Which way is this garage of yours?”
She pointed. “That way. It’s just off the kitchen.”
He swung an arm in the same direction. “Lead on.”
Faith scurried away.
He followed. A few strides later, he crouched to snatch her shorts off the floor before catching up to her in a kitchen.
A male voice: “They’re loading everything from the garage into the truck.”
Passing through the kitchen, she reached for the door to the garage.
Randall caught her elbow.
Spinning around before he could pull her back, Faith winced and confronted him. “Awesome.” She made sure to keep her voice down. “Now what?”
He glanced at the space surrounding them.
The kitchen counter had two pans, an empty butcher block, and a roll of paper towels on it. The rest of the room was empty.
He saw a mental image of the construction scene outside. This whole area is still being built. I’ll bet no one’s even, he opened two doors and saw a barren enclosure under the sink, living here.
She eyed her rescuer, then the cramped space, before shaking her head at him. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking...the two of us won’t fit in there.”
“You don’t know that for sure. Sometimes,” he lowered a forearm onto the counter, “you just have to have,” tucked his legs between the drain pipe and the wooden cabinet’s floor, “a little,” and wiggled into the under-counter storage area, “faith.” He looked up at her and grinned. “Faith.”
She rolled her eyes at the man reveling over his pun. “Yeah, like I’ve never heard that one before.”
Lying on his left side, he beckoned her. “Come on. Get in. Quietly.”
She went to hands and knees, trundled into the tiny hiding spot, and ended up in his arms, her flat hands on his chest, her nose an inch away from his.
He shut the doors and peeked through the vertical crack between one of the door’s two hinges. “Perfect. I can still see out.”
“So what’s the plan?” she whispered while a gentle light played over his handsome features. This may be the closest I’ve been to a man without having sex with him.
“We wait them out. And, if someone comes knocking on our door,” gripping his Walther behind her back, he lifted the gun a little higher, “we’ll make him wish he hadn’t.”
She glimpsed the weapon out of the corner of one eye. “You wouldn’t happen to have another one of those, would you...for me?”
“Sorry.”
“That’s all right.” A couple seconds went by. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. It’s just that I...I really do hate relying on someone else to protect me.”
He flicked his eyes her way before going back to gawking at the empty kitchen. “And I suspect if that someone else is a man, it’s doubly hard?” While not able to see her facial expression in the darkness, he did spot her white teeth near the outer limits of his periphery vision.
“My father raised me to be a strong and independent woman.”
Randall hiked a corner of his mouth. Just like your sister. “You know,” he peeped out the crack, “my Pops once told me...putting your trust in another human being is one of the most difficult things for a person to do in life.” A beat. “Then, he went on to tell me that it can also be one of the most rewarding of human experiences.”
Faith frowned. “Who’s Pops?”
“My grandfather. He taught me a lot of things.” Randall nodded. “He was a good man.”
“So he’s passed?”
“He has.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Randall regarded his ‘intimate’ partner. “Miss Mahoney, I was sent to find you and bring you back to your loved ones.”
Faith’s heart thumped stronger at the prospect of seeing her family again.
“So, believe me when I tell you...you can rely on me to protect you. No strings attached.” Following an exchange of cozy glances with her, he went back to spying on the outside world.
She squinted at him, her mind hearing his voice, her eyes taking in his good looks for a third, fourth, and fifth time. This may be the first time
I’ve been with a man and actually wanted to listen to what he has to say.
“Can you,” his voice was just above a whisper, “do me a favor?”
She bit her lower lip and drank in his handsomeness for a sixth time. Any. Favor. You. Want—she blinked a few times to shake off the sexual images. “Sure. What do you need?”
“Is there any way you can reach the magazine pouch on my belt?” He eyed his Walther. “I want to top this off.”
Trying to stay quiet, Faith finagled her hands down his shirt while wriggling her body.
Randall sucked in his flat stomach to give her more room. “It’s on the lef—” he flinched and pressed his back against the wall a little harder. “That’s not a magazine.”
“Oh, isn’t it?” she whispered.
He heard a smile come through in her reply. “I said on my belt...not below it.”
“Well, in my defense, it does have the same size and firmness of a magazine.”
“Oh yeah? Ten or fifteen rounder?”
Faith rolled her eyes. Men and the lengths of their... “Oh, twenty. At least.”
Randall chuckled privately.
“Double-stacked, too.”
His inner delight hit a crescendo, and he composed himself a moment later. “No one I’ve met so far has said anything about you being such a flirt, Miss Mahoney.”
“You just haven’t met the right ones.”
“Obviously.”
“And it’s time you start,” accomplishing her search-and-recovery mission, she worked her hands back up his body, “calling me Faith. We’re beyond formalities. After all, you’ve seen me naked, and I’ve,” she held the ammunition carrier in the miniscule space keeping their lips from joining, “touched your...magazine.”
Curling his left arm further around her shoulders, drawing her closer...
Faith tensed, her eyelids drooping to half-mast.
...Randall claimed his property from her. “Thank you.”
She ogled his lips, “You’re,” before batting her eyes twice, “you’re welcome.”
He pulled his arm away.
She stayed nuzzled up to him. “Do you have enough room back there?”
He dropped the partial mag into his palm, grinning at her excuse to remain near to him. “Plenty.” He eased the full mag into place, generating only a soft click when he seated it.
“It just dawned on me. I don’t even know your n—”
Lurching forward and pulling her to himself, Randall shushed her with a kiss.
“What the,” a man cursed, “happened in here?”
A minute later, two more voices were heard as three men engaged in a brief, frantic conversation before the leader spoke up.
“Spread out and search the house. She couldn’t have gotten far. She was naked and tied up.” Moments passed. “What the hell are you waiting for? Go! Find her.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 16
CRAP!
His legs intertwined with Faith’s, his mouth covering hers, Randall rolled on top of her, propped himself up on his left forearm, and aimed his Walther at the gap between the two doors while he stared through the gap.
On her back, her head cranked backward, she got an upside-down view of the action through the same narrow space.
Shadows moved across different surfaces.
“She’s not upstairs.”
“The rooms down the hall are empty.”
“You check the basement. You start searching the grounds. I’ll join you after I check out the kitchen and the garage.”
Faith’s body quivered.
Randall held her firm while tightening his grip on the PPQ45.
Shadows grew larger.
Footfalls became more pronounced.
Randall saw a figure enter the kitchen and stop three feet away from the sink.
Seconds passed.
“Sir, it’s me. Mason’s dead, and the woman’s escaped. We’re searching for her as we speak. She couldn’t have gotten that far. I’ll—”
Five seconds of silence.
“Yes sir. I’ll—”
More time went by.
Randall estimated where the man’s head would be, pointed the 45’s muzzle in that direction, and slid his trigger finger down the gun’s frame.
“Understood. We won’t let her get away.”
The dark figure disappeared, and the sound of a door opening and closing followed.
The home was still.
Fifteen seconds later, hearing the faint sound of another door shutting, Randall let his shoulders sag as he looked down.
Noticing she had somehow hooked a foot around his butt, and that her fingers were gripping his waist, Faith met his gaze, the burn in her biceps telling her she had been tugging on him. Her focus zipped to her mouth, and she felt something wet.
Randall pulled back and saw he had been sucking on her tongue the whole time. His cheeks turned red. Perspiration beads popped out on his forehead.
Retracting her appendage, Faith replayed the scenario in her mind. I started to ask him his name. That guy cussed. He made a move. I began French kissing him. And then, she connected the dots, CRAP! He was just trying to quiet me. Heat building in her chest, feeling her armpits getting moist, she brought her elbows in and looked away. “I’m so...”
“I’m sorry.”
“...sorry.”
Their voices were barely audible.
Faith slid her leg down his hip and let go of his waist.
Randall rolled off her.
She brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “I didn’t—”
“I shouldn’t have—”
She flashed an uneasy smile. “You go first.”
“No. You go.”
Neither one spoke.
“I—”
“I was only—” cutting her off again, he half smiled. “Maybe we should drop this and concentrate on getting out of here.”
Sighing to herself, Thank God, Faith acknowledged him. “Good idea. How do we do that...get out of here I mean?”
“Well,” he peered through the crack and saw no movement, “since they’ve had enough time to clear the house, they’re probably now searching the woods out back. The garage has a front-facing door. My car’s down the street.” He pushed open both doors.
Faith rolled out into the kitchen.
Uncoiling his legs, Randall pushed off from the cabinet wall, spilled onto the floor, and grimaced while grabbing his hurting ribs.
On her knees, “Come on, tough guy,” Faith slung his right arm over her shoulder and took him with her as she stood. “Let me help you.”
“I’m the one who’s,” he planted a shoe on the tile and rose to both feet, “supposed to be helping you.” He exhaled while bending and twisting his torso.
“You have...and now I’m returning the favor. You okay?”
He nodded. “Took a few punches to the ribs. I don’t think anything’s broken, but,” he winced, “It still hurts. I’ll be at a hundred percent in no time. Here.” He held out an article of clothing. “I thought you might want these.”
Beaming, “You’re an angel,” she stepped into her baggy shorts and lifted them to her waist. “Thank you. I almost feel human again.”
He grabbed her hand and jabbed the Walther toward the door to the garage. “Stay close, so I know where you are, but be prepared to get off the line if bullets start flying.”
Recognizing the self-defense term, Faith saw herself moving laterally to get away from the line of attack. “Got it.”
After slipping into the garage and confirming it was empty, they moved to the entry point next to the wide overhead door.
Randall stuck out his head a sliver and surveyed the area and the path to the waiting Dodge Charger. “Looks clear. Let’s go.” He pulled on her hand and ran down the driveway, his head pivoting, his eyes alert to the slightest of movements.
They crossed the street, hopped a curb, and ran across
an unfinished yard of dirt, sand, and stones. Twigs poked out of the ground in places.
Randall ran faster.
“Ow!” Faith let go of his hand.
He took two more strides, stopped, and whirled around. “What’s wrong?”
She hobbled the three paces separating the two of them and clutched his forearm for stability. “I,” lifting her right leg, “I stepped on something back there,” she laid her foot on her left knee.
Randall spied blood on her heel. “Arms up...I’ll carry you.” He hugged her waist.
“No.” She planted a hand on his sternum. “You have to be able to shoot.” She limped a short distance. “I’ll fight through it.” She picked up her pace. “Let’s keep moving.”
Randall only had to fast walk to keep up with her slow, uneven gait. He shot glances over both shoulders before pointing straight ahead. “The car’s just beyond the end of that tree line.”
She grunted and groaned with every other step.
“If anything happens,” he glanced behind him, “just—”
Gunshots rang out.
Dirt and debris flew into the air two feet away from Faith.
“Go! Run!” Randall spun around and moved away from her. “Don’t stop.” He let loose with a volley of shots. “I’ll keep them busy.”
Faith ran.
Spying a bulldozer, ten feet away on his three o’clock, he took a step toward the cover before stopping and remaining in the open, hopefully, making himself a more tempting target than the gimpy, fleeing woman.
Bullets flew by his head and struck the earth around him.
Returning fire, That’s it...stay on me, he zigzagged left and right, never standing in one spot for too long.
The Walther’s slide locked back.
Dancing back and forth, he thumbed the magazine release while reaching for a spare. Cranking his head around, seeing Faith at the end of the tree line, he rammed in the partial mag he had swapped out earlier, sent the slide forward, and made a bee line for the dozer.
Bullets followed him.
He looked toward his eight o’clock.
Faith was nowhere in sight.
He focused his attention on the gunman.
Behind the backhoe that Randall had hid behind earlier, Linebacker was using the bucket for cover while periodically coming up to fire his weapon and ducking down again.
