Читать книгу Wyoming Cowboy Sniper - Nicole Helm - Страница 12

Vanessa tried to think, but unfamiliar panic tickled the back of her throat. Masked men with guns. She’d faced a lot of bad crap in her life, but this was a first. Fear had turned her body to lead.

“Office,” Dylan said under his breath. He didn’t look back at her, just ordered her to move.

But she couldn’t. She was rooted to the spot by a mind-numbing panic that barely allowed her to suck in a breath. The guns. She wasn’t usually rendered useless by the sight of guns. She’d shot her fair share, sometimes even carried one, and had been in the presence of them her whole life.

But these were so big, and they looked more military than recreational. She was sure she and Dylan were dead where they stood, and all the fight she was so certain she had in spades deserted her.

“Who are you?” one of the men demanded, gesturing his gun toward her. “Supposed to be one,” he muttered to the other man. “Boss promised us it’d be one.”

“What have you done to Adele?” Dylan asked.

Dylan’s calmness was downright creepy. He didn’t shake or seem panicked. Vanessa managed to keep a decent mask of not freaking out on the outside, but Dylan didn’t seem to be acting. Easily, he stepped toward the two men, even as they aimed their guns at him.

Vanessa tried to swallow down the labored breathing that threatened to make too much noise in the quiet hall. She tried to move, but her body was still lead weight.

“Put the guns down and we’ll make sure this ends well for everyone,” Dylan said, still moving toward them, even as their fingers curled around the triggers. “Now, what have you done with my employee?”

Vanessa couldn’t catch a breath. She and Dylan were going to die here in this hallway. Not just them, but their baby too. Her balance swayed and she had to squeeze her eyes shut and lean against the wall to find it again.

“Take them both?” one man asked the other.

The other seemed to consider it. “Only set up for one.”

“Tricky business. Shoot her?”

Some awful sound escaped her throat, and she couldn’t open her eyes or breathe. She was going to die. Her baby was going to die. Dylan was going to die.

Fight. You have to fight.

“Boss’s got space. Rather take them both than get any blood on our hands till we know we can get away with it.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be two here. Boss’s fault if we have to kill her.”

Vanessa opened her eyes. She was still unaccountably dizzy, but she had to fight. For her baby. For herself. Dylan. “Are you seriously discussing whether or not to kill someone in front of said someone? What kind of criminals are you?” Vanessa demanded.

“Yeah, we’ll take her,” the bigger one sneered.

“Over my dead body,” Dylan seethed, moving forward.

“I can arrange that,” the sneering man said, jabbing the barrel of his gun right into Dylan’s chest.

Vanessa went cold all over, even as she couldn’t work out why Dylan was trying to save her. Just the baby, she supposed. Her teeth were chattering now, and she berated herself for being such a coward, but that didn’t help give her the strength to push off the wall. To do anything. She could only stand here, shaking, falling apart, wondering why everything was spinning around her.

Except Dylan’s profile. Something clicked off in his expression. It wasn’t fear that overtook him, even though this huge, monstrous weapon was pressed to his heart. It was...determination.

“You should leave her. She’s pregnant. You don’t want to mess with that. I’m the son of the bank president. Think of the ransom you could ask for. You don’t need her, and you don’t need to hurt her.” Then Dylan did the damnedest thing. He smiled.

“Dylan,” Vanessa managed. The hallway seemed to be getting dim, and she thought maybe she was going to throw up. She tried to say something, warn somebody that it wasn’t going to be pretty. But the world was moving. The walls. The floor.

“Pregnant, eh?” One of the men eyed her and she had to close her eyes again. She had to think of the baby. If she could get her brain to stop being a jumbled mess, get the panic to stop freezing her, she could barricade herself in Dylan’s office and call 911.

These men would be able to shoot through the glass door though. She’d left her cell phone in her car. Did Dylan have his on him? He seemed like the type who wouldn’t be parted from it. She opened her eyes, trying to study his pants to see if there was the hint of a phone in his pocket.

“She’s a liability,” Dylan said, still so damn calm while she was shaking. Had the lights gone out? Everything seemed so dark. “Any harm you cause her would come back on you tenfold. It’s one thing to kidnap and demand ransom, another to harm a woman and her unborn child.”

“Only if we get caught,” the other man said, his smile going so wide half his mouth was hidden behind his black face mask.

Vanessa thought she could all but read Dylan’s thoughts from the simple murderous expression he gave the man: oh, you’ll be caught.

She’d never given Dylan much credit for bravery or having a backbone, but watching him face down two goons with giant guns, she realized she had to reassess her opinion of him.

“We need to get going. We should have been gone ten minutes ago. Stick to the plan, or the boss—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” The man holding the gun to Dylan’s chest pushed him with it. “You’re coming with us.” He gestured toward the back door Dylan had led her through not that long ago. Dylan started moving toward it, the gun now to his back.

He didn’t even look at her as he passed.

“We can’t leave her, pregnant or not. She’s seen too much. We have to take her with us. Come on, little girl.”

The man not pushing Dylan reached out for her, but she flinched away. She wanted to deck him, but she couldn’t manage to move her arms. She couldn’t move, period. Bile rose in her throat.

“I’m going to...” But the room was something like black, and she wasn’t on her feet anymore. Then something crashed against her head and painful stars burst in her vision, but it wasn’t light. She heard Dylan say her name, but she couldn’t seem to do anything but stay still—and then float away.

* * *

DYLAN’S FACE THROBBED in time with his heavy beating heart. He should have been able to fight them off, but he’d been trying to get to Vanessa to make sure she was all right.

Now his hands were zip-tied behind his back, and he was pretty sure his shoulder was dislocated from trying to fight that off. It was possible his jaw was broken from the butt of the gun being smashed into his face, but since he could move it, he’d hope for just a severe bruise.

He’d never be able to break the bonds on his hands or feet, or even loosen them, but he kept feeling around the back of the van, trying to find something sharp.

Trying to keep his mind off the fact Vanessa was unconscious on the floor of the van and carrying his baby.

They’d been in the back of the vehicle for at least fifteen minutes by his count, and Vanessa was still out cold. She was so pale. So...vulnerable.

He’d save her. He had to. His skills at survival had dulled somewhat these past few years of playing dutiful banker and protégé to his father. But he’d remember them. He’d bring them all back, and he and Vanessa would escape this mess.

Poor Adele. He hoped she was all right. Surely she’d have hit the alarm, even if they’d hurt her. But the two morons who’d abducted them had certainly taken their time getting out of the bank, and no one had shown up.

Well, someone would notice him missing. A Carson would surely notice Vanessa missing. Someone would notice she didn’t come home and that her shop wasn’t open. They’d see her car in the bank lot and know something was very, very wrong.

If he assured himself of those facts, he could concentrate on how they were going to escape. Because they were going to escape.

A quiet, gasping sound came from Vanessa’s direction. Dylan scooted toward her. He wished he could maneuver himself to grab her hand, feel her pulse, but there wasn’t enough room on the floor of the van.

“Vanessa.”

She groaned this time, moving her head and then groaning again.

“Vanessa. Come on, sweetheart. Wake up.” He tried nudging her with his elbow, but he couldn’t lean that way without falling at every bump.

“Wh-what...?” She jerked at her arms, her legs thrashing wildly.

“Calm down. It’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay.”

She jerked her gaze to him, all vicious anger hiding a little flash of fear. “Why would you being here make anything okay, Delaney?” she demanded, her voice rough. She looked around wildly.

“Just try to breathe. You fainted. Take your time to wake up. Then I’ll help you sit up as best I can.”

She sucked in a breath then let it out, eyeing their surroundings. The back of the van was all metal, and though the windows were tinted completely black, enough light shone through that they could make each other out. She moved her gaze to him.

“Fainted?” She tugged at the bonds on her hands as she moved herself into a sitting position—without his help—with a wince. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”

“First time for everything. I’d imagine it had to do with—”

“How the hell am I tied up with you of all people?” She looked around, her expression one of panic with a steely disgust instead of that ashen terror from before. It was some comfort. “Where are we?”

“They took us both as hostages.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” She pulled at the ties on her wrist again, then winced. She squeezed her eyes shut. “How did I get here? I can’t...”

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t’?” He recalled that sometimes people with head injuries didn’t remember what had caused them. Added to that, she’d fainted and suffered a trauma. Maybe she didn’t even remember coming to see him at the bank. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” she snapped.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

She flashed him an impatient look, then her eyebrows drew together. “Man, someone did a number on your face.” She seemed to finally understand he was tied up too.

“Yeah, yeah. We can talk about that later. Vanessa, what’s the last thing you remember?”

She blinked, frowned. “I don’t. Things are fuzzy around the edges. Fuzzy everywhere. I went to the grocery store this morning. Yeah.” She closed her eyes and swallowed. “I’m not going to be sick,” she muttered to herself, as if saying it aloud would make it so.

“That’d be preferable.”

She frowned at him, but the confusion dominated her expression. “You look different. Your face is different.”

“Must be the impressive bruising.”

“No. You have lines.”

“Lines?”

“Around your eyes. Your mouth. And that’s some suit. Are we in Bent?” She tried to peer out the window, but she was still sitting and it was too black to see out of. “You’re supposed to be in college, aren’t you? Somewhere out east. Yeah, that’s what I heard.”

“College?” Panic threatened. College. She was just a little confused. By over a decade.

“A fancy one, right? I certainly remember your dad bragging all over himself about it when I went to the store this morning. Dylan this. Dylan that. For my benefit. As if I’d be impressed.”

“Vanessa. God.” It was as jarring of a blow as the butt of the gun to his face had been. “What year do you think it is?”

“What kind of question is that? It’s...” Her brow furrowed again, and she shook her head. “It’s... I’m sure it’s...” She looked up at him helplessly. “What’s wrong with me?”

“You fainted. And you hit your head. Things are jumbled, but they’ll clear up.” He said it far more confidently than he felt it. She’d lost over a decade. That little trickle of panic turned into a full-on frantic clawing, but he ruthlessly shoved it down.

She’d just woken up. She was disoriented. The past ten years would come back. Everything with the baby would be okay.

It had to be.

“Got a phone on you?” he asked, his last hope at getting a message to someone.

“Why would I have a phone on me?”

Dylan swallowed down the bubble of hysterical laughter that tried to escape. He wouldn’t panic and he wouldn’t be hysterical. She’d be fine. She’d have to be. Surely pregnant women fainted and were fine, even with a little memory loss. Women had survived life on the prairie and what-have-you and had had plenty of babies. Everything was going to be fine if he kept his mind calm, his body ready.

He’d been a soldier once. He could be a soldier again.

“Okay, no phone. Anything sharp?”

“There should be a knife in my boot, but I can’t get it with my hands behind my back like this. Who took us? Why are we both tied up? I don’t—”

“One thing at a time. Let’s get free and then I’ll explain everything.” Hopefully. Maybe she’d remember once she fully woke up. He had to hope there really was a knife in her boot, and she wasn’t remembering a knife in her boot from thirteen years ago. “Put your legs out.”

She did as he instructed, straightening her legs out in front of her.

“Which boot?”

“Right. There’s a slot for it behind the outside of my ankle.” Dylan scooted forward, maneuvering himself so the hands tied behind him were close to her ankle. He’d have to kind of lean over her legs and brush up against her to get his hands anywhere near her boot.

It was uncomfortable and awkward, but the most important thing was finding the knife, if in fact she had one down there in the here and now.

She fidgeted just as he finally got his fingertips down the side of her boot. “This is weird,” she complained.

“No weirder than what you don’t remember,” he muttered, concentrating on leaning this way and that and ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs where one of the goons had kicked him, and the fact his head was all but in her lap.

It took a lot of time, a lot of contorting and a hell of a lot of pain every time the van went over a bump, but he managed to pull the knife out of her boot.

He was sweating by the time it clattered to the floor of the van, but he didn’t wait around to catch his breath. The sooner he got them out of their bonds, the better. He leaned back, managed to grasp the knife. In a few swift movements, he cut the zip tie off his wrists.

Sometimes military training did come in handy in the civilian world. He wouldn’t have guessed.

He didn’t take a second to enjoy the feeling of freedom, however. He shook off the plastic and immediately cut the one around his ankle, and then freed Vanessa.

“Well. You move...fast,” she said, as if that surprised her. “You better not have gotten me roped into this, Delaney.”

“Quite the opposite.”

“Figures. Always blame a Carson.” She rubbed at her wrists, then delicately touched her fingertips to the side of her temple. She winced. “Some blow to the head.”

“You folded like a card table and hit the ground before anyone could do anything.”

She scowled. “I find that story very hard to believe.”

“Well, I didn’t knock you around and then tie us both up. But someone with guns did tie us up, so we need to be quick about getting ourselves out of this mess.” But before they could do what needed to be done, she needed to recall one very important thing.

“You don’t remember why you came to see me?” he asked carefully.

“I’m assuming these goons had a gun to my head, because that’s the only way I would ever voluntarily go to see you. Unless you were being tortured. And I was invited to watch.”

“Nice.” Dylan sighed. This was going to make everything so much more difficult, but he didn’t have time to get his nose out of joint about it. “I need you to understand something, okay?” He took a deep breath. If she really didn’t remember years’ worth of stuff, he doubted she’d believe him. He doubted a lot of things, but he couldn’t let her go running around thinking it was just her. “You’re pregnant.”

She barked out a laugh. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious. That’s why we’re together. You came to tell me.”

“And why would I tell you... Oh. No. No.” She shook her head back and forth. “You really expect me to believe I slept with you?”

“We were very drunk.”

She shook her head, eyes wide. “I don’t believe it. There’s not enough liquor in the world.”

“Okay. Don’t believe it. But I need you to understand you are pregnant, it’s thirteen years later than you think it is and bank robbers have kidnapped us to get a ransom. But I’m going to get us out of this, and when we escape you have to do everything in your power to keep the baby growing inside of you safe.”

She went pale at that, but they didn’t have time to keep discussing. The van had been moving too long, too far, and they had to make a serious jump-and-run effort here. She had to believe it, even if she didn’t want to.

“It can’t be,” she whispered, pressing her hand to her stomach.

“But it is.”