Читать книгу Hard Core Law - Angi Morgan - Страница 8

Chapter One

Nothing. Two weeks since Josh Parker had kissed her, and then avoided her like the plague. Two weeks and she’d barely seen him. Adding insult to injury, he’d even hired a teenager to watch the kids a couple of nights.

Tracey tilted the rearview mirror to get a better view of Jackson and Sage. They were too quiet. Smiling at each other in twin language. It was ice cream Friday and they’d behaved at school, so that had meant sprinkles. And they’d enjoyed every single colored speck.

The intersection was busier than usual. The car in front of her turned and Tracey finally saw the holdup. The hood was up on a small moving van at the stop sign. She was making her way around, pulling to the side, when another car parked next to the van.

“Tracey, we’re hungry,” Sage said.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m doing my best.” She put her Mazda in Reverse trying to turn around in the street. “Can you reach your crackers, Jackson?”

“Yep, yep, yep,” he answered like the dinosaur on the old DVDs he’d been watching. She watched him tug his little backpack between the car seats and snag a cracker, then share a second with Sage.

“Just one, little man. You just had ice cream.”

Two men left the moving van and waved at her to back up. She was awfully close to the other van, but she trusted their directions. Right up until she felt her car hit. She hadn’t been going fast enough for damage, but the guy seemed to get pretty steamed and stomped toward her door.

Great what a way to begin her weekend.

The men split to either side of her car, where one gave her the signal to roll down her window. She lowered it enough to allow him to hear her, then she unbuckled and leaned to the glove compartment for her insurance card.

“Sorry about that, but your friend—” Tracey looked up and froze.

Now in a ski mask, the man next to her window shouted, pulling on the door handle, tapping on the window with the butt of a handgun before pushing the barrel inside. “Open the door!”

She hit the horn repeatedly and put the car back into gear, willing to smash it to bits in order to get away. But it was wedged in tight. Once she’d backed up, they’d quickly used two vehicles to block her, parking in front and behind, pinning her car between the three.

Would they really shoot her to carjack an old junker of a Mazda?

“You can have the car. If you want money, it’ll take a little while, but I can get that, too. You don’t have to do this.” She kept careful control of her voice. “Just let me unsnap the twins and take them with me.”

“Get out! Now!” A second gunman shouted through the glass at the passenger door.

Where were all the cars now? Why had she lowered the window an inch to answer this man’s question? What if they didn’t let her get the kids out? Her mind was racing with questions.

They shouted at her, banging on the windows. The twins knew something was wrong and began to cry. Tracey gripped the steering wheel with one hand and blared the horn with the other. Someone had to hear them. Someone would come by and see what was happening.

“Lady, you get out of the car or I’ll blow you away through the window.” Gunman One pointed the gun at her head.

“You don’t want these kids. Their dad’s the head of the Texas Rangers in this area.”

With a gun stuck in her face, Tracey didn’t know how she was speaking—especially with any intelligence. Her hands were locked, determined to stay where they were. That’s when she had the horrible feeling it wasn’t a random carjacking.

“You’re wrong, sweetheart. That’s exactly why we want them,” Gunman Two said.

“Shut up, Mack!” Gunman One screamed, hitting the top of the car. “You!” he yelled at her again. “Stop blabbing and get your butt out here before I blow your brains all over those kids.”

One of the drivers got out of his box truck with a bent pole. Not a pole. It looked like it had a climbing spike on the end.

“No!” She leaned toward the middle, attempting to block what she knew was coming.

The new guy swung, hitting the window, and it shattered into pebble-size glass rocks. The kids screamed louder. She tried to climbing into the backseat. The locks popped open and three doors flew wide.

Gunman One latched on to her ankles and yanked. Her chin bounced against the top of the seat. Jarring pain jolted across her face. Before she could grab anything or brace herself, her body tumbled out of the car. Twisted, her side and shoulder took most of the fall to the street.

She prayed someone would drive by and see what was happening. She looked everywhere for help. Wasn’t there anyone who could intervene or call the police? Her small purse was still strapped across her chest, hidden at her hip. Her cell phone was still inside so maybe she could—

Gunman One flipped open a knife and sliced the strap, nicking her neck in the process. “We wouldn’t want you to call Daddy too soon. You got that tape, Mack?” He jerked her to her feet, hitting the side of her head with his elbow. “You just had to play the hero.”

“Here ya go, Mack.” Gunman Two, already in the car, tossed him duct tape.

Gunman One smashed her face into the backseat window, winding the tape around her wrists. Both of the children were screaming her name. They knew something wasn’t right. Both were trapped in their car seats, clawing at the straps then stretching their arms toward her.

“It’s okay, guys. No one’s going to hurt you.” She tried to calm them through the glass. “Please don’t do this. Jackson has diabetes. He’s on a restricted diet and his insulin level has to be closely—”

Gunman One rolled her to her back and shoved her along the metal edge of the Mazda to the trunk.

Oh my God. They knew. She could tell by his reactions. She was right. It wasn’t a carjacking. This was a planned kidnapping of Josh Parker’s twins. Gunman One knocked her to the ground. The other men cut the seat belts holding the kids, took them from the car in their car seats, grabbing their tiny backpacks at the last minute.

How could men in ski masks be assaulting her in broad daylight and no one else see them?

“Please take me. I won’t give you any trouble. I swear I won’t. I...I can look after Jackson. Make sure he doesn’t go into shock.”

Gunman One pulled her hands. “You won’t do, sister. It’s gotta be somebody he loves.”

“Let him have crackers. Okay? He has to eat every three or four hours. Something,” she pleaded. “Sage, watch your brother!”

When this had all started, Tracey hadn’t paid attention to what the man coming to her window had looked like. An average guy that she couldn’t swear was youngish or even in his thirties. They were all decked out in college gear. She searched this man’s eyes that were bright and excited behind the green ski mask, memorizing everything about their brown darkness.

The tiny scar woven into his right eyebrow would be his downfall. He raised the butt of the gun in the air. She closed her eyes, anticipating the blow. The impact hurt, stunning her. Vision blurred, she watched them carry the twins, running to the back of the moving van. Her legs collapsed from the pain, and she hit the concrete without warning.

I’m so sorry, Josh.