Читать книгу Countdown - Heather Woodhaven - Страница 11

THREE

The wind whipped Rachel’s hair forward as she walked to the fridge. She lifted the ponytail holder she often wore as a bracelet and pulled her hair back. Now that she’d changed out of work clothes into her sweatpants, a T-shirt and zippered hoodie, she could attempt to unwind.

She loved this time of year. The gentle winds carried the smell of blooming fruit trees. It soothed her frayed nerves.

She had almost broken her own rule and let her guard down with James. The events of the day had brought back memories and emotions from her childhood she didn’t want to face. The entire reason she’d escaped that life and succeeded was that she depended on no one but herself...and God.

The pitiful contents in the fridge caused her stomach to gurgle. Eggs, a soggy bag of salad mix and a half-full container of smoked turkey all served as reminders she needed to run to the grocery store. If only she’d remembered her dinner before the tow truck had left with her car. In the unlikely event insurance didn’t declare the car totaled, she’d find herself driving a car that smelled like moldy burrito for weeks.

Inside the freezer, though, she found a treat. An unopened package of cream-cheese-filled jalapeño poppers prompted a grin. She wouldn’t have to make eggs, after all. She carried the box to the oven and leaned over to enter the temperature.

Two steel arms pinned her against the stove and took her breath away. She opened her mouth in a silent scream. Her veins pumped hot lava as she struggled to push back.

“If I can’t take the kids, it seems you’ll do.” A scratchy voice filled her right ear. “I’m not leaving empty-handed.” The hot breath sent a chill down her spine and overwhelmed her with nausea. Her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen as the man leaned his whole body weight against her. She couldn’t turn her head. Her arms were bolted to her sides.

The only thing in her line of vision was the French rolling pin resting on the top of the stove. Her biceps burned, straining to get free.

The man squeezed her tighter around her torso, sending lightning bolts of pain down her spine and legs. She struggled as he growled, “Now who’s sorry she tried to play the hero? Huh?” He shook her body, and her head lashed forward, almost hitting the range hood.

“Guess we’ll find out how much your boyfriend loves you, won’t we?”

Boyfriend? Was he out of his mind? If it was a drug-induced rage, he would be beyond reasoning. No matter how she strained, she proved no match for the man’s strength. Tears blurred her vision and ran down her cheeks. She’d left a life of violence behind, but it’d found her. This was how it would all end?

He lifted, and her feet no longer touched the ground. His tight grip wouldn’t allow her lungs to expand. She couldn’t scream. Her temples pulsed with a stinging sensation. Please make it stop! She didn’t have much oxygen left. The hold jogged her memory. Had she gone through a similar exercise in self-defense class?

Rachel clenched her jaw as he stepped back, carrying her away. She swung her feet backward, between his legs, and looped her toes behind his calves. She closed her eyes and locked her knees. She pressed her feet forward. Her muscles burned with the effort.

He growled as he struggled against her legs to take another step. He still maintained his hold, but his arms loosened slightly.

Her toes touched the ground. Rachel took in a greedy inhale, but there was no time to catch her breath. She twisted her right wrist and raked her knuckles firmly across the top of the man’s left hand.

He yelped and released her. Rachel stumbled against the stove and reached for the rolling pin. Tapered on both ends, she gripped the right side. She spun on her heel just as his hand reached her shoulder. She twisted her hips and smashed the side of the rolling pin into his head. He stumbled back but remained upright.

“Help!” Her lungs stung from the effort. Rachel took a step forward and swung the rolling pin again as the man rushed her.

The back door burst open. James filled the doorway.

The diversion shifted her focus, and the man blocked the rolling pin. It flew backward and smacked the edge of her shoulder before it tumbled to the ground.

She cried out. James yelled something she didn’t register as the kidnapper snarled and charged at her. Rachel tightened her fist and threw a punch directly to the middle of his chest. The man stumbled back. Pain vibrated up her arm to her throbbing shoulder.

His right hand reached into his jacket and pulled out a jagged knife.

Rachel gasped, paralyzed.

James stepped forward, and his foot whipped out a kick so fast that if Rachel had blinked she would’ve missed it. The knife soared into the hallway. The man’s fist aimed for James’s face, but her neighbor sidestepped the punch.

In a seamless motion, James twisted the man’s wrist into an odd angle. The man cried out, and James pushed him down until the kidnapper sunk to his knees. He put a foot on his back and pressed him all the way to the ground while gathering the man’s other hand.

James sat on his back. “I called the police on my way over here. Do you have any zip ties or rope to help hold him until they arrive?”

Rachel tried to stop shivering, but her body refused. The adrenaline rush took control. She may have attended kickboxing and self-defense classes regularly, but it didn’t compare to facing someone wishing to harm her. “I...I might have something.”

She ran to the garage and riffled through the few tools she had piled on a card table in the corner. Why didn’t she think to have zip ties or rope as part of her tool kit? Her stomach twisted at the shame of not being prepared. She thrust off some of the items on the vinyl tabletop until her fingertips grasped a ball of twine she’d intended to use in preparation for her first raised vegetable garden. It wasn’t rope, but it’d have to do.

She dry heaved. Her entire body trembled. This wasn’t supposed to happen in a good neighborhood, to a church-going business owner. She’d done everything right, hadn’t she? Rachel shook her head, as if forcefully throwing the thoughts away. She ran back into the house.

James accepted the ball, frowned, and tied up the man’s wrist and ankles.

The man underneath James’s weight grumbled.

“Who sent you?” James asked.

The man went silent. Rachel’s pulse quickened. Why would James think someone had sent him? She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to calm her heart rate.

“I asked you a question.” James almost spat out the words. His face turned slightly red.

The kidnapper twitched but said nothing.

“Why do you think someone sent him?” she asked, her voice weak.

Grief crossed his features as his eyes, dark and tortured, met hers. “I want to know why they tried to kidnap my kids and then you.”

Rachel blinked. “I’m pretty sure he’s on meth or something.” She recognized the symptoms, and judging by the man’s eyes and the pallor of his skin, she imagined he’d spent years addicted to illegal substances. “I doubt you’ll get any useful answers from him right now.”

The sound of sirens rang through the window screens. “I hope that’s for us.”

“Should be.” James didn’t take his eyes off the man underneath him. “I’d hoped they were still in the vicinity. They should’ve been hunting for this guy.”

Her shoulders relaxed, the reality sinking in. James had the man subdued. The police were on their way. Once the man was gone, the danger would be over. Everything could go back to normal. “Thank you, James,” she whispered, straining past her aching throat.

She stared at the kidnapper’s meaty hands, hands that had almost succeeded in taking her, hurting her. Was this all because she had stopped him from kidnapping the neighbor’s kids?

No good deed goes unpunished. Her uncle used to say that often. Of course, he was a drug dealer, and the only good deed he’d ever done was not forcing Rachel into the family business. She’d often wondered if her uncle knew the quote came from the first female ambassador to Italy. If he did, she was sure he’d never have repeated it again. Her uncle didn’t believe women were worth much. None of the men in her family did.

Two police cars parked in front of her house, and the officers rushed to her door. Rachel crossed the wooden floor and flung the door open. “He’s in here.”

Two officers ran to where James sat. James jumped up from his post on the man’s back so the officers could take over. The same officer who’d collected her witness account stood just inside her doorway. “I can send for an ambulance.”

“No,” Rachel replied. She placed a hand on her neck. “I’m okay, really.” Or at least she would be.

* * *

The police escorted the man in handcuffs out of the house. While the officer questioned Rachel about what had just happened, James stared out the window. His stomach churned, his neck ached...the beginnings of a tension headache. He’d called out to the boys and told them he had to help Rachel and would be right back as he’d run out the back door, but he’d already been away from his boys long enough.

At least he had told them to play in his office behind the secret door just in case it was a ruse to separate him from the boys, but the fact remained he had never left them home alone before. Now, the first time he had—even just to run next door—was the same day someone had tried to take them away. If there were ever an award for Worst Parent...

“I need to go,” he said.

The officer stopped midsentence and looked out the window. “You live there?”

James nodded.

The officer’s lips flattened before he nodded. “Okay. I think we have what we need for now. You can go,” the officer said to James before he offered Rachel a smile. “I think we’ve got enough evidence to keep them locked up for a long time. Now that we’ve got both suspects, you can put your minds at ease.”

James stiffened.

Rachel’s eyes locked on him. She raised her eyebrows and gave a subtle nod. James knew that look. His mom always did that when she wanted him to do something, say something. Problem was, half the time he had no idea what she’d expected.

A small sigh escaped Rachel. “Why would they target the boys and then me?” She looked at James, but the question seemed directed at the officer.

The cop shrugged. “I wish I could tell you definitively. I don’t know about the driver, but this man shows the signs of a crystal meth addiction.”

“I thought so,” Rachel muttered.

How had she known the signs? He made a mental note to ask her, but he needed to call Derrick immediately before things escalated. He’d never got to finish his call when he’d seen the man creep through her living room. The officer and Rachel seemed satisfied with their theory, but it still didn’t make sense to him.

Even if one of the kidnappers was addicted to drugs, why would they target his kids and then Rachel? For money? He didn’t make enough to warrant attention. There were plenty more affluent parents in the area, and a hairdresser—even a very good one like Rachel—wouldn’t make a ton, either.

The officer nodded at both of them. “Have a nice night.”

James and Rachel watched the last police cruiser leave the cul-de-sac. Rachel exhaled. One arm cradled her ribs.

“Are you okay? Do you need an ambulance?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Only a little bruised up. I didn’t feel like I could breathe fully with that man and then the cops stomping around my house.”

She shivered and hugged herself, but there wasn’t any breeze. The air remained still. Surely she wasn’t cold?

She looked down at his bare feet. James shrugged, self-conscious. “I didn’t take the time to put my shoes back on when I saw the man in your house.”

Rachel stepped closer to him. “I can’t thank you enough for stopping him.”

His heart beat a little faster. Should he tell her his suspicions? If they came after her once, what was to stop them again? He’d inadvertently put a mark on her. He shook his head. “Don’t thank me. I’m not sure you’re safe here.”

Rachel frowned and looked around for some clue to his statement. “What do you mean I’m not safe? You heard the officer. They got him. They have both of them.”

“You told the police he said, ‘Let’s see how much your boyfriend loves you.’”

Her cheeks flushed. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said. “And, like the officer said, the guy had to be on drugs or something. Nothing he said made sense.”

James raked a hand through his curls. She didn’t understand the implication. “I hugged you.” His voice gruff, he turned to her. “Back there. I hugged you...twice. We held hands.”

“We were praying. I was trying to be supportive.” Her eyes widened as she held both palms up.

“The kids hugged you,” he continued, “while the kidnapper watched. We drove back together. Until Sunday, we had been driving together twice a week.”

“About that—”

“I...I think he was referring to me,” James said, trying to get to the point. “I’m afraid I put a target on you.”

Rachel’s breath hitched, but she said nothing. She took a small step back, as if replaying his words in her mind. She frowned, her mouth dropped slightly.

“I’m sorry. I have to get back.” He took a step toward her. “Put a bag together with the essentials—clothes, money, whatever you might need to leave for a few days. Meet me at my house, and I’ll take you wherever you want. I just don’t think you should stay here alone. Please.”

Rachel blinked. “I...I don’t understand. They caught him.”

James blew out a breath. He spent all day talking in computer codes. His communication skills were rusty at best, and he hated it. “I’ve already left the boys alone long enough.” He put his hands on her shoulders, and heat radiated up his arm. He stepped back immediately. “Grab your stuff, and I’ll give you a ride to somewhere safe. I’ll explain on the way. I promise. And if you still think I’m crazy, I’ll pay for you to take a cab back here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is it possible you might be overreacting? They’ve caught both men now. He was probably after me because I could identify him, because I messed up their plan.” She placed a hand on the back of her neck. Her eyes widened as she looked up at James. “He said, ‘If I can’t take the kids, it seems you’ll do.’” Her gaze stayed on him, but it seemed she was staring into the void. She blinked rapidly and recognition crossed over her features. “Someone is trying to find leverage on you?” She flung a hand to the door. “Why not tell the cops your theory while they were here?”

He blew out a long breath and raised both eyebrows as if accepting bad news. “Because it’s not a matter for them. It needs to stay with the NSA.”

Her forehead crinkled. “The NSA?”

“National Security Agency.” James didn’t have time to explain his career history. “I have a contact there that I need to reach before complicating matters by going to the police.”

“James.” Her voice came out as a plea, soft yet powerful enough to make his stomach flip. “Are you sure?”

He hung his head. “No.” He raised his eyes to meet hers. “But do you really want to take the risk I’m wrong? Please close your windows and lock your doors. Get your stuff, and we’ll talk at my place.”

He turned and left the way he came—out the back door—before she could ask any more questions. He stepped onto the lush grass, grabbed the top of the fence and lifted himself up and over into his own yard.

“You could’ve used the front door.” Her voice reached him through the open windows.

“Close your windows and pack,” he hollered back. He slipped the keys out of his pants’ pocket, unlocked his back door and went inside.

“Ethan? Caleb?”

“Daddy, can we have pizza now?” Ethan’s voice filtered through the secret door.

His shoulders dropped and he smiled. They seemed fine, but for how long? He ran downstairs to hug his boys and tell them it was time to leave.