Bodyguard for Christmas

by Carol J. Post

  “I don’t like this.” Gunn’s tone was laced with concern.

  A single beep sounded, and lights flashed on a red sports car. Her pulse kicked into high gear. The Atlanta Life Insurance Company wasn’t the destination. The men had Liam somewhere else. And since Colton wasn’t going there in Cade’s Corvette, the tracking device would be worthless. They’d have to rely on what Dom had installed on the phone.

  After a hand motion from the other man, Colton moved to the driver’s side.

  “They’re getting into a vehicle, and Colton’s driving.”

  “What kind of vehicle?”

  “A red sports car. I’ll give you the make in a minute. Where are you?”

  “Three or four blocks away, on John Wesley Dobbs.”

  The engine turned over, and Colton backed from the space. Just before he made his right turn onto Courtland Street, the passenger window lowered. An object arced through the opening and landed on the sidewalk.

  “The passenger just threw something out of the car.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Colton stepped on the gas and made his turn into the far-right lane. As the car approached, the man’s gaze landed on her for the briefest moment before he looked away, apparently confident she didn’t pose a threat. Colton stared straight ahead.

  When they passed, she turned. Another vehicle overtook it, blocking her view. “I think it’s a Mazda Miata, newer model. I couldn’t get the tag.”

  She resumed walking again.

  “See what he threw,” Gunn said.

  “Headed that way now.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. The Miata was making a left turn onto Auburn. Moments later, it was out of sight. As she drew closer to the parking lot, she picked up her pace, heart pounding. “Dom, are you showing movement on Cade’s phone?”

  What lay on the asphalt looked an awful lot like a cell phone.

  Which meant the Miata was moving away with Colton inside. And no way to track him.

  Time to call in some of those connections Gunn had put on standby. And hope that circumstances didn’t throw them any other curveballs.

  At least ones they weren’t prepared to handle.

  ELEVEN

  Colton made his way east on Auburn, hands moist against the steering wheel.

  The man in the passenger seat pressed his phone to his ear. “I’ve got him. We’re headed your way.”

  Just like that, the conversation was over. He touched the screen and dropped the phone into his lap.

  When Colton had arrived fifteen minutes ago, the parking lot next to the vacant building was empty. It wasn’t until he got out and approached the door that the man stepped around the corner and led him to the other side of the building.

  Moments later, he was thanking the Lord that he hadn’t allowed any of the Burch Security people to fit him with a wire or tracking device. In the small space between that building and the next, the guy frisked him so thoroughly he would have found it. He even made him take off his shoes and empty his pockets.

  The precautions hadn’t ended there. When they’d reached the car, the man had demanded he hand over his cell phone. He’d spent the next minute scrolling through calls and texts.

  And Colton had sweated bullets the entire time. He had no clue what was there. It wasn’t his phone.

  Apparently, nothing had set off alarms. The only thing the man had wanted to know was who he’d talked to last night. Colton had said he’d wished his brother a merry Christmas.

  He hadn’t, but Cade had. Since he was playing the part of Cade, what he’d said was true. The man had seemed satisfied with the explanation.

  Then he’d thrown the phone out the window.

  “Turn right up here.” The command cut into Colton’s thoughts.

  He signaled, looking at the street sign as he approached. Boulevard. He knew the area. He knew most of Atlanta. But he had no idea where the man was taking him.

  The Burch Security people wouldn’t, either. Neither the tracking device in Cade’s car nor the app installed on Cade’s phone were going to do him any good. Whatever happened, he’d be facing it alone.

  No, he wasn’t alone. He needed to keep reminding himself of that. He was never alone.

  God, please protect Liam and be with me. Help me get him back and please don’t let either of us get hurt.

  He braked leading up to the turn, then accelerated as he straightened the wheel. Sporty and low to the ground, the car handled well. Under other circumstances, he’d enjoy the snazzy ride. Now he just wanted to get to wherever they were holding Liam.

  The man directed him through a couple more turns until he was traveling east on Dekalb Avenue. A low rumble sounded in the distance, somewhere behind them.

  Colton checked the rearview mirror. A box truck occupied the majority of the rectangular space.

  He shifted his gaze to the side mirror. In the upper part of the glass, a helicopter hovered against a partly cloudy sky. It seemed to be flying lower than normal.

  His heart pounded as an odd mixture of hope and dread swirled inside him. Jasmine and her partners had wanted to implement more security measures, and he hadn’t let them.

  Maybe they’d moved ahead with their plans anyway. If so, there would be professionals on his side.

  And all kinds of things that could go wrong. The men had warned him—if he involved anyone else, Liam would die.

  He slid a nervous glance toward the man next to him. He’d noticed the helicopter, too. He sat staring at his own side mirror, tension radiating from him.

  He picked up his phone and touched the screen. “We might have company. There’s a chopper headed right toward us.”

  In the pause that followed, he kept his gaze fixed on the side mirror. “Don’t worry, we’re not coming to you till I know it’s clear.”

  He slid Colton a sideways glance. “I don’t think he’s that stupid. He knows we mean business.”

  He dropped the phone back into his lap. “I’m right, aren’t I? You didn’t do anything stupid like calling the police?”

  “Of course not.” Actually, that wasn’t true. “I called them when it first happened, but that was before you made contact. They know nothing of this meeting.”

  He struggled to keep the nervousness from his voice. He didn’t have anything to hide. He wasn’t the one who summoned that chopper. Maybe no one had.

  He watched it until it disappeared from view, now too high to be visible in the mirror. The rumble increased in volume until it seemed to come from all around them.

  The man removed a weapon from beneath his jacket and pointed it at him. “If you’ve pulled something, the boy won’t be the only one who dies. You’re going to join him.”

  “I’m not pulling anything.” The panic ricocheting through him made the words come out louder than he intended. “I didn’t call anyone.”

  He leaned toward the window and cast a quick glance over his left shoulder. The chopper was gaining on them, poised to pass almost over them.

  He released a sudden sigh of relief. “That’s not the police.” He should have thought of it sooner. “Atlanta’s choppers are black.”

  That one was white. As it moved past them, he read the letters painted on the side and bottom.

  “It’s from one of the local news stations. They might even be doing traffic.”

  The man seemed to relax. Colton almost crumpled. One disaster averted. The man was jittery. Likely, both kidnappers were.

  Colton gripped the wheel more tightly. If he could get through the entire exchange with nothing spooking them, he and Liam might have a chance of surviving the day.

  The chopper moved ahead, and the man pointed. “Take the next right.”

  Colton did as told. It looked like they were proceeding as planned. Since
they didn’t seem to be heading toward any of the large roads leading away from Atlanta, the meeting location was probably somewhere nearby.

  When the man directed him through another turn, the sign at the corner triggered a vague sense of familiarity. Rogers Street. Why did it ring a bell?

  He followed a ninety-degree curve and scanned his surroundings. The Circus Arts Institute stood on the right. On the left, a chain-link fence ran parallel to the road, barbed wire on top. Red no-trespassing signs were affixed at points along its length. Beyond, metal buildings were spread out over the landscape, towering, barnlike structures that obviously hadn’t seen any activity in decades.

  The Pullman train yard. Now he knew why the street name sounded familiar. He’d read a news piece about the place, that a film production company had purchased the long-abandoned complex with big plans to turn it into a mini city with a boutique hotel, restaurants and a public gathering space for movies and concerts.

  But none of those improvements had begun. Even in broad daylight, an eerie air of abandonment hung over the property. Any one of those graffiti-covered buildings would be the perfect place for an exchange like this to go down.

  “Pull over here.”

  Just ahead on the right was a cleared area, large enough for a vehicle to turn around. Beyond a chain-link fence, grassy fields were visible in a break between trees. A sign next to the locked gate announced Welcome to the Arizona Avenue Fields.

  Colton pulled off the road and eased to a stop in front of the gate. Maybe someone would question the car being parked illegally and call the police.

  Not likely. Since they were on Rogers rather than Arizona, the entrance he was blocking was likely a back way in.

  Colton turned off the engine. The Miata was the only vehicle there. “Where is Liam?”

  Instead of answering the question, the man spoke into his phone. “We’re here...no, we weren’t followed.”

  As he spoke, he wrapped a handkerchief around the door handle and opened it. He’d done the same thing getting in, careful to not leave prints. Maybe he planned to ditch the car when everything was over. It was likely a rental, obtained with fake identification.

  Colton stepped from the car. “Where are we going?” The gates to the train yard and the athletic fields were chained and padlocked.

  The man didn’t answer that question, either. “Open the trunk.”

  Colton did as instructed. It was empty except for some bolt cutters. So that was how they’d get inside the fence, likely the one across the street. He picked up the tool and held it out.

  The man leaned against the car, then motioned toward the train yard. “You cut. I’ll keep watch.”

  Yeah, he wasn’t going to leave prints on the bolt cutters, either. Colton crossed the street and knelt on the narrow strip of grass in front of the fence. He’d completed several snips in a horizontal path when the man stopped him.

  “Get over here. Someone’s coming. Act like you’re getting something out of the trunk.”

  Colton’s stomach tightened. He didn’t need a Good Samaritan stopping to lend a helping hand. Contact with anyone, even random strangers, could spook the men.

  Leaving the cutters in the grass, he rose and walked toward the Miata. A white minivan moved toward them. A short distance behind it was an SUV.

  Two for one. Good. The fewer interruptions he had, the sooner he’d see his son.

  He leaned into the trunk, not straightening until the second vehicle had passed. When the road was clear again, he returned to his task. Soon the cuts formed a decent-sized upside-down L that ended at the ground.

  When he turned for further instructions, the man was crossing the street.

  “Crawl through.”

  Colton pushed on the cut section, forcing it inward. As he slipped through the opening, a sharp piece of fence grabbed his sleeve, ripping the fabric and scraping his shoulder. After a final glance in both directions, the man struggled to follow him inside. The opening was almost too small.

  He got to his feet, and Colton followed him toward the graffiti-covered buildings. Every square foot of reachable surface showcased the creativity of local urban artists. Even though he didn’t approve of defacing property, he had an appreciation for the talent displayed.

  Instead of walking into the nearest building, the man led him past it. Ahead was a hodgepodge of brick-and-steel structures. Wide bay doors spanned the side of the nearest one.

  Once sure of their destination, he picked up his pace. Liam was likely inside.

  He stepped beneath one of the partially raised doors and scanned the huge open space. Metal framework supported a pitched roof probably thirty feet high at its center. Sunshine struggled in through dirt-streaked skylights. Graffiti decorated the lower portions of the walls and metal posts, and rainwater had pooled in places on the concrete floor.

  A rustle of movement drew his attention, and he turned. It was just the man who’d brought him here.

  “Where is Liam?” He fought to keep the panic from his voice. Someone was supposed to be there waiting with his son.

  What if Liam wasn’t there? What if the men had lured him to the abandoned train yard with plans to kill him and take the ring?

  God, please protect us both.

  “Be patient. They’re here.” He crossed his arms and leaned against one of the metal support posts. The pose highlighted the size of his chest and biceps, even through the jacket. “But they’re not going to show themselves until they know it’s safe.”

  Colton’s panic lessened, but not by much. He wouldn’t relax until he and Liam were far away from here. For the past few weeks, wherever he’d gone, Jasmine had had his back. What he wouldn’t give now to know she was somewhere close.

  A sound set his pulse pounding. Did he hear a child’s whimper? He froze, hope tumbling through him.

  When he heard it again, he turned in that direction. Windows encrusted with decades of dirt lined the wall adjacent to where he’d entered. Trees stood a short distance beyond them.

  A figure moved past. Then another. The silhouette of the first one was bulkier, as if the person was carrying something.

  Like a small child.

  Now he had no doubt. What he’d heard was a child’s soft cry. The whimpering was closer now, filled with loneliness and despair.

  A vise clamped down on his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. When someone holding his son entered through one of the bay doors, his knees almost buckled.

  Liam was safe. He was scared, but he appeared unhurt.

  Colton took several stumbling steps forward. Now that Liam had seen him, his whimpers had escalated to wails. He was kicking and twisting, trying to get down, both arms stretched toward Colton.

  “Hey.”

  The shout didn’t register until too late. The larger man thrust out an arm, lightning fast. The back of his fist caught Colton in the stomach.

  Colton skidded to a stop, doubled over at the waist. Liam screamed more loudly.

  A third man entered. “Shut him up.”

  Colton straightened, his heart in his throat. “It’s okay, buddy. Daddy’s here.” He shouted the words, but Liam seemed not to hear him. A good thirty feet separated them, and Liam was as distraught and terrified as he was after one of his nightmares.

  The man holding him started to bounce him, and Colton continued.

  “Don’t cry, buddy. Daddy’s going to take you home.”

  The screams settled into sobs, and Colton released a pent-up breath.

  The last man who entered spoke. “You have what I told you to bring?”

  Colton nodded. Since all his attention had been on his son, he hadn’t given the man more than a passing glance.

  Now he did. This was Marino. Even without the description Cade had given him early this morning, he’d have known. The other two seemed li
ke enforcers, thugs who carried out the orders of others. Marino didn’t.

  He was bald, stocky and short—probably only five-six or five-seven. But he projected an aura of power. He was used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

  “I have it.” He removed the item from his pocket. “Take it, and let me have my son.”

  Marino stayed where he was. “Boulder, bring me the ring.”

  Boulder. Obviously a nickname, probably a reference to his size. Colton placed the small cloth bag into the man’s extended hand. Boulder carried it to Marino without opening it.

  “I have to make sure it’s the real thing.” Marino opened the bag, then nailed Colton with a cold glare. “Since the dealer has no integrity.”

  Colton felt an odd sense of shame that wasn’t his to bear. He fought the urge to defend himself, to set the record straight.

  But he had no defense. What Cade did was inexcusable. And all three men believed he was Cade.

  “This is the original. I guarantee it.” Not that Cade’s promises meant anything.

  Marino removed the ring from its protective bag. As he studied it, Colton fidgeted. What if the original was a fake? What if someone had slipped a reproduction into the collection before Cade acquired it?

  No, Cade would have recognized it. He was too good at what he did.

  Seconds stretched into a half minute. Everything was silent except for Liam’s muffled sobs. And something a lot more distant. The squeal of sirens.

  As the volume increased, Colton stopped breathing. Jasmine wouldn’t have called the police. Even if she had, they wouldn’t descend on the place with their sirens screaming. Atlanta PD was much better at stealth than that.

  Colton studied the men. He wasn’t the only one who was nervous. Boulder and the man holding Liam shifted from one foot to the other, their stance alert, as if ready for a quick exit. The only one unruffled by the approaching sirens was Marino.

  Boulder drew his weapon. “Come on, let’s dump the kid and get out of here.”

  “Not so fast.” Marino walked slowly toward the other side of the building, his dress shoes making rhythmic taps against the concrete. Halfway across, he turned to retrace his steps. Rather than to calm himself, the pacing seemed more for the purpose of putting others on edge.