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Countdown
Heather Woodhaven
BORROWED TIMEWhen Rachel Cooper witnesses the abduction of her neighbour’s young twin sons, she springs into action to save them. But now the thwarted kidnappers are after her…and her only hope of survival is relying on their widowed single father James McGuire. A weapon has been planted on a satellite James’s company is ready to launch, and as the systems specialist, it’s his job to stop it. But someone is set on keeping James from preventing the scheduled takeoff—and they’ll use anyone close to him as leverage. Now he must find a way to protect his boys and the woman he’s beginning to fall for…before the final countdown can even start.
BORROWED TIME
When Rachel Cooper witnesses the abduction of her neighbor’s young twin sons, she springs into action to save them. But now the thwarted kidnappers are after her…and her only hope of survival is relying on their widowed single father, James McGuire. A weapon has been planted on a satellite James’s company is ready to launch, and as the systems specialist, it’s his job to stop it. But someone is set on keeping James from preventing the scheduled takeoff—and they’ll use anyone close to him as leverage. Now he must find a way to protect his boys and the woman he’s beginning to fall for…before the final countdown can even start.
“If I can’t take the kids this time, it seems you’ll do.” The kidnapper’s scratchy voice filled her right ear.
“I’m not leaving empty-handed,” he continued, sending a chill down her spine.
The man squeezed her tighter around her torso. She struggled as he growled, “Now who’s sorry she tried to play the hero? Huh?”
“Help,” she yelled, praying someone would hear.
The back door burst open. James filled the doorway.
James yelled something she didn’t register as the kidnapper snarled and let go of her.
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. He pinned the man down.
“Who sent you?” James asked.
HEATHER WOODHAVEN earned her pilot’s license, rode a hot-air balloon over the safari lands of Kenya, parasailed over Caribbean seas, lived through an accidental detour onto a black-diamond ski trail in the Aspens and snorkeled among stingrays before becoming a mother of three and wife of one. She channels her love for adventure into writing characters who find themselves in extraordinary circumstances.
Countdown
Heather Woodhaven
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
God setteth the solitary in families.
—Psalms 68:6
To Jennifer Brost.
I love the way you and The Job Foundation
walk with children and their families. You are an inspiration and a constant source of encouragement.
Contents
Cover (#u641e7fbb-7dad-5ada-a2c5-d4b50799f67a)
Back Cover Text (#u0689c17f-65df-579c-9eca-677d3287c67d)
Introduction (#ua3b43259-8092-504f-ba38-52514b3c6119)
About the Author (#ucf6486a9-42a1-5513-8c91-4e3c07685e41)
Title Page (#u4c21b98f-2335-59e9-ace1-21f1cf41269b)
Bible Verse (#u30e1d527-3e0b-5bca-9933-c532d269cc20)
Dedication (#u953f75c7-7980-560a-b58b-529ea3494431)
CHAPTER ONE (#uabe77a52-5ef7-5465-aa2c-8cf8b6088c1f)
CHAPTER TWO (#u151e0470-9637-5941-a9df-ca406b423382)
CHAPTER THREE (#ub091be91-3fe3-565a-80cf-99f5b4d3e50e)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u4578065a-1efd-5d65-89c1-1f8d278b65b6)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u8ed19e23-d1fe-5286-b8ba-5c279ecde513)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
DEAR READER (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#ulink_86ad2418-420a-5979-900b-b68166f5c43a)
Rachel Cooper whipped the steering wheel to the left, maneuvered through the rush-hour traffic and entered her tree-lined subdivision. Her shoulders relaxed. Each time she made the turn it was as if she’d left the city behind.
Her stomach growled at the smell of the steak burrito and chile con queso sitting in the paper sack on the passenger seat. The night’s agenda included lounging on the couch and watching her favorite shows. The idea seemed like the perfect remedy to the physical strain of styling hair for twelve hours. After a couple hours of loafing, she’d make herself burn away the calories with her nightly kickboxing video...if she didn’t justify her way to an early bedtime instead.
Rachel guided the car around the maze of bends and curves within the subdivision. Not a single street lasted more than a couple of blocks before turning and changing names. The real-estate agent explained the layout was to prevent cars from speeding, but Rachel imagined it was more about fitting as many houses as possible on the amount of land.
Giant oak trees bordered her sky-blue house. To the rest of the neighborhood she owned the smallest house in the affluent subdivision, but to her, it represented the mark of how far she’d come in life. The other houses encircled the small home in the quiet cul-de-sac of the dead-end street.
Her neighbor, James McGuire, owned the house just past hers. His three-year old twin boys exited their garage on training-wheel bikes, racing each other down the driveway. Rachel pressed on the brake, even though she was still over a block away.
It had become habit to slow down at the sight of children. They rarely ever watched for cars within the subdivision, most likely due to the lack of traffic. In such a family-oriented place, everyone watched out for each other’s kids. If Rachel were the type to want kids, the neighborhood would’ve been ideal.
A white van took off from its parked position opposite her house, turned one hundred and eighty degrees and screeched to a stop in front of the twins. Her stomach fluttered. Odd, but maybe the driver hadn’t noticed the kids before.
The driver and a passenger jumped out of the van and ran for the boys. Each man grabbed a kid off the bikes. The boys kicked wildly, but their fight didn’t slow the men down. They threw the boys through the side door of the van.
Rachel slammed on her brakes and stared, unsure of what to do. Her stomach twisted. Was she really witnessing a kidnapping?
One man bounded into the van right after the kids as the driver jumped in behind the wheel and took off. The van screeched and barreled toward her vehicle. Lord, give me wisdom.
The van would pass her in less than five seconds. Rachel pressed the call button on her steering wheel and hit the gas. She swung the car around, positioning it diagonally across the road in hopes she could block the van. They couldn’t pick up enough speed this close to cause real damage, could they?
“Call 9-1-1.” Her voice shook, but the ringing through the speakers bolstered her courage as she tensed every muscle in her body, preparing for impact.
The van honked loudly. Thoughts of the boys bouncing around in the cargo area of the van made her question the decision until she thought of kids on the news...kidnapped and gone forever.
She’d risk the boys getting banged up a little if it meant saving their lives. Though, if the men tried to drive through her blockade, she’d be the one in for a world of pain. Rachel tucked her chin to her chest, cringing. She focused on the ringing. Come on. Answer the phone.
She dared a peek out of her right eye. The van drew close enough that she could see through the approaching windshield, and for the briefest moment, the driver’s glare met hers. He wasn’t slowing down.
She pressed back into the seat, in the worst game of chicken she’d ever imagined. The van bounced up and over the curve and clipped the front of her car. Her spine jolted to the left. A searing pain rushed up into her neck. The impact spun her car in the opposite direction of her house as the van drove over a set of lavender bushes and smashed into a mailbox.
An airbag deployed from her passenger side, and a light powder misted over everything. She turned her head to the side, but nothing came out of her steering wheel, most likely because she hadn’t been in motion when the van hit that side of the car.
The van pressed onward and back onto the street.
In the rearview mirror her neighbor—James—sprinted down the street, yelling. She couldn’t let those boys be separated from their father. Coughing away the powder, Rachel stomped on the gas pedal.
“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”
“Two men kidnapped my neighbor’s boys.” Rachel rattled off the address as she pressed the gas pedal into the car’s flooring. If they took that long to answer the phone, could she really trust they’d stop the kidnappers in time? If she managed to get close enough to see the license plate, though, the likelihood the police would catch them increased.
Her fingers squeezed around the steering wheel, and she pressed her left heel into the car door for balance as she made the hairpin turn. Her heart seemed stuck in her throat, and her stomach lurched.
The dispatcher said something, but the words sounded like mumbling. It took all her focus to drive through the subdivision at as high of a speed as the turns allowed. She believed the real-estate agent about short streets stopping speeders now. The van’s left wheels lifted off the asphalt for the briefest of seconds on a sharp turn.
The voice coming through her speakers repeated something. Although Rachel’s listening skills sometimes proved lacking when she was focused, her mouth never failed to operate. She could always talk while she worked. Knowing the streets in the neighborhood by heart, she shouted out the name of each one at each turn.
So far all the trees and the green front yards were empty of little feet. Please keep the rest of the kids in the neighborhood inside, Lord. Hopefully most of them were at their after-school activities or already at home eating dinner.
Rachel gritted her teeth on the only straight stretch before the subdivision ended. If the kidnappers reached Overland Drive, a main city road, they’d only need to go a few blocks before hitting the freeway.
If they succeeded, the van could easily hide in the traffic or take one of the many exits available to escape. The odds of bringing the boys back home would drop, and she couldn’t bear to tell James, who had already lost his wife tragically, that his sons might not ever come home.
The whir of her engine grew louder at the increased speed. Ten feet away. She pressed her toe harder into the pedal. She pulled close enough only to see...nothing. No license plate. A weight dropped into her gut. “No, no, no.”
She should’ve known.
Sirens wailed, growing louder. Rachel braced herself for the final turn out of the subdivision. The white van squealed to a halt, sliding sideways. She gasped as she flew at high speed toward it. She slammed her foot on the brake, her body thrown back into her seat. Please don’t let me hit the boys.
She squeezed her eyes shut and forced the brake to the floor. A high-pitched squeal preceded a sudden stop. The momentum flung her torso toward the steering wheel. Searing pain rushed up through her ribs from the impact. She opened one eye and judged the remaining distance between her bumper and the white van—eight feet to spare. The car choked and died.
She exhaled.
A man with shaggy brown hair shot out of the passenger door and scowled at her. Her heart stopped as he ran toward her, his hands in fists. She slapped the lock button three times—just to be sure. The car locks clicked each time, as if attempting to reassure her.
The man slammed a fist into the hood and pulled out a gun from his jacket. She flinched. Her eyes flitted around the car for a possible weapon. She could throw the nacho dip in his face, but how much time would that buy? Why weren’t the cops running around the van to help her?
The back of one cruiser and the top of another were barely visible due to the dip in the road at the front of the subdivision. More “speed control” at work. The driver still sat in the white van. The officers probably had their sights and, hopefully, their weapons, trained on him. So they were clueless about this guy on the loose.
The man walked around the front of her car. He stared at her with calculating eyes. He pointed the weapon at her and made a come-hither hand signal. Rachel gasped. He wasn’t looking to exact revenge. He wanted to use her as a hostage. To get away or to get the boys again? Or both? She inhaled sharply. The dispatcher. “Are you still there?” Her voice squeaked.
No one responded. She turned the ignition. It released an awful grinding noise as if telling her it wouldn’t take any more of her abuse today. With one hand, she flipped open the console between the seats and felt for the hard plastic handle of her emergency escape tool.
On one end, the pointed steel hammer ensured she’d be able to shatter the vehicle windows if needed. She imagined it’d pack a potent punch against an attacker, as well. She shoved it into her jacket pocket on the remote chance she was put in a hostage situation.
Lord, bring help. She forced a façade of bravery and returned the man’s glare. The kidnapper seemed unfazed as he approached. She needed to get the police’s attention before he succeeded, but how?
* * *
James McGuire slapped the steering wheel. He’d lost sight of the back of Rachel’s maroon SUV. He couldn’t see where they’d gone. “Don’t take them away from me, too. I can’t—” The words stuck in his throat. The unbidden memory of being told his wife had been killed rushed to the forefront of his mind.
He gritted his teeth and didn’t let up as the Dodge Charger jumped over a curb. He took each curve at a diagonal. He jerked his gaze from north to south at each side street as he barreled toward the east exit of the subdivision.
Caleb and Ethan... His eyes stung from pent-up anguish and rage. A horn in the distance blared and didn’t let up. He sped closer and closer to the exit. The horn grew louder. “Please,” he groaned aloud. If ever he needed the Lord to hear his cry...
He shot past the final corner. The white van sat parked across the subdivision entrance. His mouth went dry at the sight. They’d been stopped? His boys...were they? The horn continued to blare, the noise coming from Rachel’s SUV. Had she crashed? A man at her driver’s door lifted a gun toward her window while his other hand gestured for her to get out. His car windows muffled shouted words from a police officer’s megaphone. They wouldn’t get to her in time. Had they already pulled his boys to safety?
The Charger revved and responded immediately the moment he shifted into high gear. James aimed the nose of the car for the man. The squeal of the tires finally got the man’s attention, his eyes wide, but the gun remained trained on Rachel. The man’s face contorted as if trying to make sense of where the car planned to go.
James squinted and blocked out the rest of his surroundings. He would not lose another woman in his life to senseless violence. For half a second he questioned whether he should spare the man that laid a hand on his children. His heart squeezed, his neck tingled, and James exhaled as he slammed on the brake. The car skidded to a stop a centimeter away from the man’s legs.
The kidnapper jumped backward, as if trying to get out of the way, at the sound of squealing brakes. His face paled as if he was unsure James had actually stopped. The man’s arms flailed. He fought for balance and lost. The gun slipped from his fingertips as he fell to the pavement.
James thrust the car into Park and jumped out. He stepped toward the kidnapper, prepared to fight him if necessary to keep the gun from his reach. The man had already jumped to a crouched position and glanced between the gun and James. Most likely he was trying to judge if he could make it to the weapon before James pounced.
James balled his hands into fists in response. The kidnapper snarled and sprinted past the nose of Rachel’s car, disappearing behind the closest house.
The police fanned around the van, guns drawn, but pointed their weapons at the driver who had his hands up in the air. They didn’t run after the other man. Had they not known there were two of them? James couldn’t allow him to escape.
Police cars screeched to a stop behind them. One cruiser squeezed past Rachel’s car and ramped up a driveway before two officers jumped out and pursued the kidnapper on the run. James relaxed his hands.
Rachel stepped onto the pavement. The slight breeze moved her glossy, thick hair away from her pale face and wide eyes. James ran to her and grabbed her shoulders, looking for signs of shock. “Are you okay?”
She trembled underneath his fingers but nodded rapidly. His gaze jerked back to the van swarmed with officers. He fought back the urge to run over and wrench the van door open, but he watched everyone on high alert. The last thing he wanted was to escalate the situation and to give them any reason to delay opening the door to his boys.
He pulled Rachel to his chest, his chin grazing the top of her head. Her body shook, and he held her tight. Please let my boys be okay.
An officer near the white van ran toward them. The cop spoke into his radio and waved his hand, indicating Rachel and James should stay back. Other officers pulled the driver out of the van. They pressed the man against the hood and proceeded to handcuff him.
Rachel pulled away from James but grabbed for his hand. Any other moment and he would’ve felt uncomfortable with her touch for reasons he’d take days to analyze. But now, at this moment, it was as if they stood together in prayer, in unity, during the most excruciating wait of his life.
The side door of the van slid open. Inside the cargo area, on the floor of the van, the twins clung to each other. His eyes burned, his throat tightened, and a wretched bark of relief escaped.
The boys were safe. Thank You, Lord.
He jolted forward, but the officer held a hand out. “Those are my sons.” It wasn’t a request, and he didn’t wait to hear the officer’s response. He ran at a full sprint to the van.
“Daddy,” Caleb screamed. The twins let go of each other and held their arms out. They didn’t seem injured as the officers on either side of the door stepped back.
James kneeled down. Caleb and Ethan hurdled into his open arms. His hands splayed across their small backs. Their soft cheeks, wet with tears, pressed into his temples.
“Daddy.” Ethan’s cry mixed with a laugh broke his heart.
“Guess what, Dad? I put on my seat belt all by self,” Caleb said, his little voice shaking. “Ethan needed help.”
James opened his eyes enough to look into the van. A ripped-up bench seat in the back of the van held three seat belts. The middle of the van had holes on the floor where rows of seats used to reside. He choked back a sob at the provision of safety. “That was very smart of you boys. You’re not hurt? Are you sure?”
They shook their heads. Their blond hair brushed against his hair. “Daddy, you saved us, huh?” Ethan nodded his head while he asked. His son’s long eyelashes held tiny teardrops.
James closed his eyes. His entire body shook with emotion. He fisted the backs of their shirts, wishing he could hug them tighter but careful to be gentle. “God did, buddy.” The words barely escaped his swollen throat. “And He used our neighbor to help.”
James twisted to look over his shoulder at the woman in question. She stood with a hand cupped over her mouth, her head bent. She’d always been attractive, but at the moment, she looked a thousand times more beautiful than he’d ever noticed.
He fought back the habitual onslaught of questions and theories flooding his mind whenever a problem arose. It made him an asset to his company, but as a parent he didn’t want to face what his analytical mind shouted: this was too bizarre to be random.
The events of the last week shifted together in his memory, a puzzle begging to be solved. The blood in his veins ran cold. Bottom line: it had to be his fault, and he had no guarantee they wouldn’t try again.
TWO (#ulink_931d3308-f5d9-5c46-a1ce-431332342cc4)
Rachel fought off a relieved sob as she watched James reunite with his sons. His broad shoulders provided enough room to embrace both children at once. He stood as he held them to his chest, their little feet dangling. Both pairs of little arms wrapped around his neck.
She turned to the side, not wanting to intrude on their moment. She’d gotten to know James and the boys as they car-pooled to church together every Sunday and Wednesday...at least until a few days ago when he’d left without her.
Last Sunday, she had walked to the sidewalk at the appointed time and found his car already halfway down the street. She wouldn’t have minded driving on her own to church, but the lack of communication infuriated her. She’d half hoped he would explain, but on Wednesday he’d gone without her, as well. She’d meant to talk to James about it the past few days, but the awkwardness of the situation didn’t inspire her to make the first move. And now certainly wasn’t the time.
Other sirens approached, but they had a different rhythm to them. Her suspicions were confirmed as an ambulance pulled to a stop on the main road. She didn’t envy the commuters the traffic jam it created, but his boys were alive. That was all that mattered.
A policeman stepped in front of her. “Ma’am? Were you the one that called in? I need to ask you some questions.”
Something flew into the back of her legs. Her knees almost buckled. She looked down to find two three-year-old boys firmly attached to her legs. The officer smiled. “I’ll give you a minute,” he said.
“Daddy said you saved us.” Ethan held on to her right leg.
Caleb squeezed her left knee. “We’re supposed to say thank you.”
“I didn’t say you should tackle her, though.”
Rachel twisted her torso to find James McGuire, tears in his eyes, flash a sheepish grin at her. “I—I can’t thank you enough,” he said.
He reached above the boys and pulled her into an awkward hug. His arms squeezed her tight around her shoulders for half a second, as if he was about to lift her up instead of embrace her. Despite it being a clumsy hug, her cheeks heated. His abrupt release threatened her balance, but the boys’ weight around her feet helped steady her. She averted her eyes. She didn’t want him to see how his hug affected her.
James cleared his throat and bent down. “Boys, let Rachel move.” The twins took the cue and jumped into his arms again. They had blond hair, from what she assumed was their mother’s side, but their blue, sparkling eyes and dark eyelashes were an exact duplicate of their father’s.
A movement in the distance caught her eye. A man crouched between two trees on the opposite side of the street. The kidnapper returned to the scene to spy on them? A coldness that made no sense in a California suburb chilled her skin. “He’s there,” she shouted, raising a finger up. She trained her eyes and finger on him, but it seemed he didn’t care. He stared right back. A shiver ran down her spine.
The cops immediately responded in pursuit. A second later the man broke eye contact and scaled the closest fence.
“Get him,” she whispered.
James straightened, the boys still in his arms. His eyes flicked from the officers in pursuit back to her. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. Judging by the way the muscles along his chiseled jaw tensed, barely controlled rage was the emotion of the moment.
“Was that a bad man?” Ethan asked.
“Yes.” A steely tone radiated off that one word.
Caleb tugged on his collar. “And they’re going to put him in jail?”
His chest heaved. “Yes.” His voice cracked. “So he can never try to take you away again.”
Rachel’s ribs constricted. A man like James should never have had to lose his wife or even worry about having to lose his kids. She’d seen the way he parented them at church, during their car-pool rides, and occasionally through her window as they ran around their backyard while the boys giggled and taunted James with cries of “Chase me, Daddy.”
Such a man didn’t deserve to deal with this kind of fear, the kind she’d experienced most of her life. An inevitable darkness surrounded people like her.
James frowned, snapping her out of the morose thoughts. His dark mop of curls hung low and emphasized his blue-gray eyes. She followed his gaze as paramedics crossed the grass, heading toward them. “Are you hurt?” James asked.
She put a hand on her neck. “Nothing a good stretch and a visit to the chiropractor won’t fix.” She reached out and gently touched the twins’ blond heads, needing reassurance they were fine.
Two officers approached. “Sir? Ma’am? We need to talk to both of you.”
James nodded but his gaze didn’t leave her. Two paramedics flanked James. They each talked to the boys in hushed tones as they asked questions and tried to evaluate them. The boys clung even tighter to their father’s neck. Their little red T-shirts against his navy-collared shirt gave a resemblance to a superhero.
Rachel inhaled sharply. His gaze always sped up her heart a little. It needed to stop because they could never, ever, be anything more than neighbors.
She turned on her heel and faced the officer. “Of course. Anything you need.” The stagnant air, mixed with the smell of diesel and tar from construction, threatened the start of a headache. Her stomach gurgled with hunger pangs, as if jealous for attention.
After a series of endless questions, the beeps from a tow truck backing up halted her train of thought. They were taking her car. The muscles in her back tensed. Transportation meant freedom and control. How long would it take for them to fix the air bag and the transmission she felt certain she’d dropped?
The officer pressed his lips in a firm line, as if impatient. She nodded for him to continue, but she half heard his next question. Her gaze, fueled by a desperate need for proof the kidnapper was gone, swept past the blue uniform. She studied the hedges, flowering bushes and trees surrounding her. She couldn’t get past one question the officer hadn’t yet asked: Why would the kidnapper return to the scene and spy on them?
* * *
James studied the boys in his rearview mirror on the drive back home. Physically they were unharmed and seemed like themselves, but they remained silent, their gazes locked on the blur outside their respective windows. A clear sign that his normally talkative twins weren’t fine.
Their mom would’ve known how to help them cope after the attempted kidnapping. His throat tightened. Nikki had been gone two years. The boys probably didn’t even remember the sound of her voice.
He squeezed the steering wheel. Ever since the hit-and-run had taken Nikki away from him, he drove only when absolutely necessary. So much so, his younger brothers had accused him of becoming a hermit, and his mother worried aloud he’d developed agoraphobia. Only his father seemed to understand. Or maybe he didn’t. James couldn’t tell because he hardly said a word.
The manic chase to the subdivision exit marked the first time he’d driven aggressively since the accident. Thankfully, his neighbor didn’t seem to have such squeamishness. He would never forget the way she’d tried to block the van, and then, despite being hit, gone after them like a raging bull.
What was the proper thank-you gift for such an act of selflessness? His throat swelled at the possibility of what could have happened had she not intervened. He gritted his teeth and forced the emotions to take a backseat.
Rachel sat in the passenger seat in silence, her hands squeezed together. He’d insisted on giving her a ride home after her car was towed. It stood to reason she’d be distraught over her banged-up vehicle. Even so, she was uncharacteristically quiet and still. She hadn’t let a second go by with silence on all the other rides they’d shared to church and back.
He forced a small smile. “Hey. Are you okay?”
She blinked and jerked in her seat. Her wide eyes roved past James and the boys, as if she’d been awakened from a dream and surprised she wasn’t alone. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I mean, I’m sure I will be.” Her voice took on a chipper tone. “I suppose it takes a while to process things when something like that happens.”
The sudden positive take didn’t ring true. “If you hadn’t slowed them down...”
She flashed him a dark look and darted a glance behind him. Ah, message received. She didn’t think he should discuss it any more in front of the boys.
But James felt the need to talk about it. The squeal of her tires had made him look through the living room window to discover the boys had slipped outside without him. They had asked if they could ride their bikes outside, and he had said they could after his phone call. They were supposed to have waited. He never let them go outside alone.
He shouldn’t care what Rachel thought of him, but still wanted to explain so she wouldn’t think he was an irresponsible dad.
James groaned inwardly. Discussing their disobedience now would only make the boys think the kidnapping attempt was their fault. How would the experience affect them in the long run?
His pulse ran hot and fast again. Relief turned to anger at the situation. He’d calmed down after the paramedics had checked the twins. His initial reactions began to seem like paranoia. Now he wasn’t sure. Could the kidnapping attempt be connected to the anomaly he’d discovered at work or the phone call he’d made two days ago?
“We’re going home, right?” Caleb asked.
“Yeah, buddy.” That was the third time in two minutes one of the boys had asked. They should’ve recognized their surroundings since they were gazing out the windows.
“And the bad guys are in jail?”
James’s throat tightened. They still hadn’t caught the escaped kidnapper, but the officers assured him they would. Patrol cars circled through the area, neighbors were on alert and the cop seemed positive the man wouldn’t be foolish enough to try to get at his kids again.
Rachel twisted in her seat. The green tints in her blue eyes sparkled off the rays from the setting sun. Her grin held a hint of mischief. “Do you boys have a favorite food?”
Ethan shouted pizza at the same time Caleb yelled ice cream. Rachel nodded. “Mine, too.” She stiffened and faced forward. “I’m not trying to imply we eat together. I just thought a treat might help them get their minds off things.”
James shook his head. “I didn’t think of that.” But the image of her at his dinner table made his lips twitch, almost into a smile. “So you boys want pizza?”
“Yeah,” the twins echoed in unison.
She tilted her head back and released a lyrical laugh. She turned to him as her chestnut hair spilled over her right shoulder. “Do you ever get used to them speaking in stereo? I don’t think I’d ever be able to get over it. It’s amazing.”
Warmth filled his chest. “They’re something special.” Now that his children were out of immediate danger, he registered the soft-shell navy jacket, the white-and-navy blouse, navy pants and navy flats Rachel was wearing. She looked amazing in his favorite color. James jerked his head back at the unbidden thought.
He pulled into his driveway and hit the garage opener out of habit. He frowned at his mistake and shifted into Park. “Sorry. I forgot to stop in front of your house.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So I could walk three feet instead of six? No worries.” She hopped out of the car before he could reply and waved at the boys. “You have a good night, okay?”
“Bye.” They yelled in unison and squirmed forward against their seat belts.
James stilled for a moment, searching for the right words to say as she walked away. Should he invite her to eat with them? Was it too forward? Would she be okay? Having a man point a gun at your face, even through a window, had to be a lot to process. He opened his mouth as he lowered the passenger window, but she’d already disappeared into her house.
He pulled the car inside the garage and allowed the door to drop before releasing the boys. They ran up the steps and through the connecting door into the kitchen as they chatted about pizza and ice cream. For a split second, everything seemed normal again. His neighbor was right. They’d needed a distraction to help them get their mind off the kidnapping attempt.
For him, it was the opposite. Now that he didn’t need to put on a brave face for Rachel or the boys, he could concentrate. Sure, there were plenty of creeps roaming the city, but the kidnapping didn’t seem random. Why would kidnappers pick a cul-de-sac deep in the heart of the subdivision? The timing of it all seemed suspect. Was his family a target?
He worked at Launch Operations, a space transport company. The anomaly he’d found within the scripts he monitored meant a possible weapon was hidden inside a satellite scheduled to launch. His fingers twitched to call Derrick, his NSA contact, and demand protection. After all, it was Derrick who had asked him to help the NSA in the first place.
Or was James jumping to conclusions, connecting dots that didn’t belong together?
He followed the boys inside and found them jumping on the couch. “I was looking forward to pizza, but we could always have vegetable stew instead.”
The twins froze, their mouths open, and dropped to their bottoms on the cushions. Ah, his boys may have been through a horrible ordeal, but they were smart enough to test how far this “treat” business went. He melted at their hopeful grins, lowered himself to his knees and hugged them again. When he thought about what might have happened—
“Daddy, are you sad?” Caleb asked.
He shook his head and blinked away the growing moisture. “No, the opposite. I’m very, very thankful for you.”
“’Cause Rachel saved us, huh?” Ethan asked, but he was already nodding the answer.
James nodded along and attempted to keep their beautiful neighbor out of his mind. “Yes.” Hugging her had been an impulse, and now he wished he’d never discovered her hair smelled like fresh raspberries.
“Listen.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking Uncle David and Aunt Aria haven’t seen you for a long time. What do you think about a visit?”
Their eyes widened, and they let out a whoop, no doubt thinking of the all the toys Aria had brought with her last time. James had never been so thankful he had a good relationship with his brother and sister-in-law. Hopefully they would be available, and if not, he’d just drive to his mom and dad’s. He could drop the boys off and drive all night to come back to work. At least then he’d feel safer knowing they were far away until the launch, and the possible threat, was over.
“So,” James continued, “I need you to go to your room and pack some clothes in your backpacks just like we did when we went camping on the church trip. Think you can do that?”
“What about the pizza?” Caleb asked.
James’s stomach growled at his question, sending the boys into giggles. “What if we picked it up and ate it in the car?”
Their reaction didn’t disappoint. They jumped up and cheered. He loved that something so simple as drive-thru food caused so much excitement. They were like their mother that way. She had found joy in the small, everyday things. Their little legs were already in motion, sprinting off to their shared room. “Don’t forget clean underwear and socks,” he called after them.
His shoulders relaxed. Plans always helped. He picked up his laptop from the end table and flicked it open. Please show me I’m wrong, Lord. Let this just be a horrible coincidence.
He’d set up his browser’s home page to his work login since he often telecommuted. As a systems administrator, he put in significant overtime and monitored all processes on the servers in the weeks leading up to each launch.
In three days there was yet another telecom satellite scheduled to launch from an air force base his company leased from the government. Mission Control remained at the main offices in the city, but there would also be a small control tower next to the launch site.
James worked around the clock before each and every launch, ensuring there would be no programming glitches. And he’d never found a glitch he couldn’t repair. It was fixing a small script error that had alerted him to the abnormality in the first place. Otherwise, he’d probably never have noticed it.
James typed in his username and password. An orange box flashed on the screen. He narrowed his eyes. User access denied. He gripped the sides of the monitor. This was confirmation the kidnapping was no coincidence. They were in danger.
He grabbed his cell, dialed Derrick and listened to the phone ring. The wind swept his curls farther down his forehead. The first step would be to close all the windows while he prepped to leave.
He strode to the first window and shoved it closed. Across the small stretch of grass between their houses, all of Rachel’s windows were also open.
A man—the same man that’d escaped—crept through the shadows of her living room.
THREE (#ulink_a421479e-9415-5cb6-a46d-8481a302573b)
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.
FOUR (#ulink_d0a2c325-203a-50ca-a19e-5ddded90cce7)
Rachel’s home, once a comfort, now seemed empty and full of shadows. Her heart raced. The cops were long gone. The neighborhood grew quiet with only the hum of nearby traffic wafting through the trees.
The NSA? Maybe she didn’t know her neighbor as well as she thought. Did she really need to get out her suitcase? Could she ignore him and live with the possibility that he was right?
Another burst of wind through the windows prompted her into action. She’d already locked the front door. Of course, the back door had been locked, but James had made short work of that when he’d burst through to save her.
While grateful, she saw it as a sign that she needed a dead bolt installed on the back door, as well. And without a car, the best she would be able to do in the way of security for the night would be to place a chair underneath the doorknob.
Her hand froze over the kitchen window. How had the kidnapper gotten inside in the first place?
She shoved and locked the windows, going as quickly as she could throughout the house. She stumbled in the hallway to a halt. The kidnapper’s knife had gouged her kitchen floor. The reality of what had almost happened made her heart race. Suddenly lounging alone on the couch sounded like the least appealing thing in the world.
She forced herself to continue her walk-through. In her peripheral vision something seemed off. She placed a hand on the door frame of the bathroom. The window screen had been ripped from top to bottom.
Her breathing quickened. She gulped and took short steps closer to the window. She lifted her chin and leaned forward to see outside. The flowering bushes below the window—something she used to find beautiful—now seemed like nothing more than a place for a man to hide.
Her fingers drifted across the rough edges of the screen. So that was how he’d gotten inside. Had the kidnapper watched her from afar? Seen James drop her off? Seen her laughing with the boys about pizza and ice cream? A shiver ran down her spine. The familiar sensation she’d become all too accustomed to as a child returned—an instinct she’d promised herself she’d never ignore.
She wasn’t safe.
She shoved the window closed and ran down the hall. Rachel flung open the coat closet and grabbed a baseball bat. She lunged up the stairs, two steps at a time. She peeked behind each door and underneath her bed before she grabbed a backpack and filled it.
While she’d promised herself she’d never trust or depend on a man, this wasn’t the same. James would take her somewhere safe... Although at the moment she couldn’t think of a place to go. Surely she would think of somewhere by the time they left.
Five minutes flat and Rachel was ready to leave. She grabbed her purse and slung it diagonally across her torso on her way out the front door. Oh, how she wished her car wasn’t out of commission. Her jaw clenched. She should’ve insisted on a ride to a rental place before coming home, and then she wouldn’t have to rely on a man—a man that had a lot of explaining to do.
Rachel opened the front door and peeked behind the bushes lining the porch. The sun hung low in the sky. Pale blues, pinks and violets outlined the clouds. She used to love this time of day, but now it created shadows underneath the trees. Were her eyes playing tricks on her, or were those really just shadows?
She took a deep breath and darted behind the giant oak separating their houses. Squeezing past the lilac bush, she made it to his front patio. With a look over her shoulder, she rang the doorbell.
A shadow crossed the peephole before the front door opened wide. James surveyed the area behind her. “You’re fast. Good. Come on in.” He’d changed into a soft-looking Henley the color of a night sky, faded jeans and sneakers. She’d never seen him look so...casual. Even on days she knew he worked from home, he at least wore tan pants and a collared shirt. His glance moved to the bat still in her hands.
Her cheeks heated. “You made me nervous.” She shook her head. “Well, the kidnapper made me nervous, but you—”
“I get it.” He nodded solemnly. “I wasn’t critiquing.”
Rachel stepped past him into the living room. The warm muted colors on the walls made her think of a cabin in the woods on a fall day. A leather couch, a navy-cloth recliner, a thick wooden coffee table and a big-screen television furnished the living room. A décor fit for an all-male house. “Nice place.”
He surveyed the room as if he hadn’t noticed. “Thanks, uh, yours was, too. I would’ve said something but—”
She tried to smile but failed. “You were a little busy.”
James closed the door and flipped the dead bolt. “So, have you figured out where to go?”
She blinked. “Where to go?”
“Do you have some family in town you can visit?”
The very word—family—caused her jaw to clench. A family man like James probably didn’t understand the only reason she counted herself among upstanding citizens was that she’d escaped from her relatives. “Uh, no.”
She slipped the bat into the opening in her backpack and crossed her arms. “I need you to tell me what’s going on before I decide where you’ll drop me off.”
“Fair enough.” James looked over her head. She turned around to follow his gaze. Through the opening of the curtains she could see a nondescript black sedan pull to a stop. “Do you know anyone who drives a sedan like that?”
“Uh, no.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t, either.” James stepped to the intercom panel next to the door and pressed a button. “Boys, game time. Let’s see how fast you can get back down to my office. Remember to bring your backpacks. Ready?”
He let go of the button. “Yeah,” little voices hollered through the speaker.
James pressed the button. “Set. Go.” He crossed over to the bookshelves and put his hands on the middle shelf and pulled. “I have an important phone call to make before we talk.” The right side of the bookshelves swung open, revealing a stairway.
Rachel’s jaw dropped. “That’s the coolest basement door I’ve ever seen.”
The floor vibrated as a herd of elephants approached. Rachel spun around. How such little feet could make so much noise was beyond her comprehension. The boys ran past her and down the stairs.
James looked over his shoulder. “Welcome to my home office.”
* * *
He watched the look of disbelief cross his neighbor’s face. “My brother is a contractor and my sister-in-law is an architect.” James reached past her and grabbed his bag “The first time she stepped inside my house she said the ugly brown door in the living room had to go. Aria believes every house should have a hidden door.”
He peeked out the windows. “Two men in suits got out of the sedan and are coming this way. I may be overreacting, but I’d feel a lot better if we both got downstairs before our unexpected visitors ring the doorbell.”
Her eyes widened, but she remained silent. James could kick himself. Once again, his inept communication skills were messing things up. He operated in an analytical and efficient fashion while she was clearly a people person, apt to taking her time and discussing all the options—something he’d heard normal people did.
Well, he couldn’t take the time to say anything more now. He stepped past her as the boys jumped up and down at the bottom of the steps.
“How fast were we, Daddy?”
“Yeah, how fast?”
James grinned and looked back to see Rachel’s face relax, although the lines around her eyes were still tight. “One second, boys. I need to lock the door.”
They maneuvered an awkward sidestep. Her arm brushed against his. James almost slowed down from the sudden warmth of her touch.
The back of the swinging bookcase had a regular doorknob. He pulled it closed and flipped the hooked latch on the back to keep anyone else from accessing the entrance. If anyone recognized it as a door, though, they’d be able to break the hook pretty easily. “My sister-in-law asked me if I wanted it to double as a panic room, but I thought that would’ve been over the top. Now I wish I’d taken her up on it.”
Even more so after he heard about the harrowing experience his brother Luke had gone through in the past year. A panic room had saved Luke’s life and the life of Gabriella, another new sister-in-law.
Downstairs, they found the boys playing with the train table stationed near his desk.
Rachel turned to him, wide-eyed. “Okay, we’re downstairs. Can you tell me what’s going on now?”
“Bear with me a little longer.” James put one hand on each of the boys’ shoulders. “We’re going to play another game. There are some men that might try to get into our house. We need to make sure they don’t hear us, okay?”
“Are they bad men?” Caleb asked. His fingers tightened around the blue train in his pudgy hand.
James’s heart sank. So much for keeping things light and playful. “I don’t know. They might be good guys,” he answered. “But they’re not the men that tried to take you. Those men are in jail.”
Ethan didn’t respond, but his serious focus on the trains in front of him betrayed his concern.
“So we’re playing this game to make sure everyone leaves us alone.” Rachel leaned forward and used a higher pitched voice. “Just in case. It’s like hide-and-go-seek, and your dad’s office is a fort.” She flashed a radiant smile and winked at Ethan.
That seemed to calm the boys, and they both maneuvered their trains toward the bridge. James worried his lip. Even at their quietest they still made choo-choo noises without realizing it.
“So, back to what’s going on...” Rachel said, her voice hushed. But it came across more like a question.
He straightened and looked around his office with a fresh set of eyes. He’d never had a nonrelative female in his house, let alone his workspace. The framed portrait showed him in front of the South Korean flag as he accepted a black belt. It served as the only wall decoration. His wife had hated that he hadn’t smiled for that photograph, but his instructor had told him anything other than a serious face would break tradition. At least his walls weren’t white anymore, thanks to his sister-in-law’s insistence.
How did he even begin to explain the work predicament to a hairdresser? Nikki had worked in the IT field so James had never had to talk about work to a normal person. In fact, his company discouraged it. He took a deep breath. “You know I work for Launch Operations, right?”
She nodded. “The space company.”
“Yes. We launch satellites, usually for telecom services but sometimes for the government, as well.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You work on computers there.”
“I handle system operations.” He searched for the right words. “I watch the processes...the scripts that go through the system. Maybe I should back up—”
Rachel put two hands on her hips and closed her eyes while she inhaled deeply. Her eyes flashed open. “You’re trying to dumb it down for me, which I can appreciate, but for the sake of time, why don’t you speak candidly? I can ask questions if I need to.”
“That works for me.” James’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m a systems administrator, so I monitor system processes. A glitch happened a few days ago and I fixed it but discovered another process set up for constant monitoring. It sent alerts to someone—I don’t know who—on the status of radioactive material.”
Her mauve-tinted mouth dropped open. “Radioactive? Is that normal?”
James studied the thin carpet underneath his sneakers. How much detail should he go into? “For this launch, the radioactive part isn’t normal. I had a hunch about what it could mean, though. Do you know what an EMP, an electronic magnetic pulse weapon, is?”
She cocked her head. “Something that could knock out our power?”
“At a rudimentary level.”
Rachel darted a glance at the boys. Her frown was so intense her eyebrows almost touched her thick lashes. “You think you found that?”
“The process indicates something radioactive hiding within the satellite, something not on any of the schematics.” He blew out a breath. “The launch had been approved. All the necessary permits gathered. The air force even had to certify it beforehand, and it passed with flying colors. There are government officials on site to oversee things, which made me wonder who I could trust.”
“That’s why you contacted the NSA?”
“A friend of mine, yes. He got back to me a couple days ago and asked me to stall the launch. He said there was reason for concern, but he needed more time to investigate to get to the bottom of it.” James sighed. “I agreed to help and wrote a process that writes more processes and sends error messages about the rocket’s engine being faulty.”
She squinted. “Are you trying to say you wrote a virus?”
James looked at the ceiling. Technically, what he did was different, but he didn’t have time to discuss semantics. “Uh, basically. A very complicated virus, if you want to call it that. Bottom line is they won’t be able to launch until it’s fixed.”
“Oh.” She blinked rapidly and turned toward his desk. “That’s...a lot to take in.”
James raked a hand through his hair, the curls off his forehead a moment before they bounced back into position. “I thought the NSA would take over by now. I did my part. But I believe whoever is hiding something on that satellite figured out what I did and shut me out of the system. I got locked out at the same time someone tried to kidnap my kids.”
She put a hand on her cheek as she paled.
He hadn’t meant to say “kidnap,” but the kids didn’t react to his slip-up. “That’s why,” he said, “I think they’ve been looking for someone to use as leverage against me.”
She dropped her hands. “So you’ll fix the virus.”
James sighed. It was a relief she understood the gravity of the situation and seemed to believe him. He didn’t want to explain why the NSA knew it would take other men with the same qualifications days to be able to stop a process James had written. His own parents didn’t know the extent of what he had done for the NSA in his younger years.
Crash!
Every muscle stiffened at the sound from above. It sounded like the men broke his back door window to get inside.
“Daddy, I’m scared,” Ethan whimpered.
Rachel turned to the boys at the same time as he reached out to hug them. “Your daddy is here, and you’re safe.” She leveled a cold glare at him. “Now that we know they’re not here for a chat, what’s the plan?”
He stood and turned the volume on the intercom speaker to low. “They can’t hear us, but we can hear them.” The basement wasn’t soundproof, but he knew from experience that he would have to be yelling before anyone would hear him upstairs, through the closed door.
He pulled out his smartphone. Telling the police his theories about Launch Operations would be foolish but alerting them to a break-in seemed pretty cut-and-dried. “I’m calling 9-1-1.”
Footsteps and doors slamming could be heard even without the aid of the intercom. “I thought they were supposed to be here,” a gruff voice said through the speaker.
Rachel’s breath hitched.
James turned to make sure she was okay. She seemed to understand his unasked question because she nodded, her lips in a tight line. She crossed her legs, sat on the ground and the boys jumped onto either side of her lap. She whispered into their ears, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. He trusted she was attempting to soothe them as she’d done earlier.
“Maybe they’re onto us,” the other man said. “I found a car in the garage, but it’s empty.”
“Or they got picked up by that neighbor girlfriend of his.”
James turned in time to see Rachel roll her eyes.
“So we’re going to check there, too?” the other man’s voice responded. “I heard she’s a spitfire.”
“I’ll go. She won’t give me problems.”
The other man laughed, a sickening chuckle. “Just because you hide behind your NSA badge.”
“Hey,” the man yelled. The sound of shuffling feet rattled the bookshelf door upstairs. James flinched. If they were thorough, it wouldn’t take them long to figure out there was no wall behind it.
“I wouldn’t be here if your team hadn’t messed up,” the second man said, his voice seething. “So get to work finding the guy’s computer. Grab any electronics you see like a hard drive or something.”
James glanced at the backpack at his feet where he’d stuffed his laptop. Even if they got their hands on it, he felt sure they wouldn’t find anything of use. He’d wiped all evidence of his work from it.
“Trash the place?”
“Whatever it takes to get the job done.”
James’s heart dropped. He shoved the phone back in his pocket. NSA? This wasn’t how the NSA acted, so either the agent was a fake or crooked, but either way, the police wouldn’t do him much good if one of the men had an NSA badge to flash.
But now he knew what they were after. They’d confirmed his suspicions. This was about Launch Operations, and Derrick was the only one he could trust. He clicked the intercom volume off before the boys could understand their toys were in danger of being smashed. “I think it’s time to go.”
Rachel extracted herself to stand. “Where?”
Crash!
James grimaced and swung his backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s focus on getting out of here first.” He pointed to the white door behind the staircase. “This office used to be part of the garage before we remodeled. Boys, time to go.” He led the way in case one of the boys slammed the door open, drawing attention to their location. He cracked the door open and trained his eyes on the set of steps connected to the kitchen.
All clear.
Rachel followed behind.
He waved them closer but kept his eye on the other door into the house. “Remember, no noise, boys. Quiet game.”
Rachel placed Caleb in his booster seat while Ethan jumped into his. James shoved the backpacks the boys had discarded underneath their feet.
“We can buckle them in later,” she whispered.
James grabbed the seat belt to Ethan’s left. That was not a risk he was willing to take, no matter how short the ride. “No. We buckle them in now.”
Her wide eyes met his for half a second before she nodded and buckled Caleb.
“Lift the handle as you close it,” Rachel whispered, but it came out more like a hiss. Closing the doors still made some noise. James hoped the chaos the men were creating inside would mask their movements.
A moment later they were all inside the Charger. Rachel held her purse against her chest like someone clinging to a flotation device pictured on an airplane safety pamphlet, and her backpack sat between her feet. “You, too,” he said softly, his eyes drifting to the unbuckled seat belt.
She raised her eyebrows and looked at him. Confusion lined her forehead. James shook his own seat belt as he clicked it into place with his left hand.
“Oh.” She followed his example as he turned the key in the ignition with his right hand. The door to the house burst open.
“Stop,” a man in a black suit hollered. He whipped a gun out from the holster underneath his suit jacket and aimed the weapon at the windshield.
FIVE (#ulink_10553401-d1d1-553a-9bd2-e4e127f2f122)
Rachel’s heart went into overdrive at the sight of the weapon. Her body stiffened and her fingernails dug deep into the sides of the leather seat. The man kept the gun level at the driver’s side of the windshield.
“Shift to Reverse.” James spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “While he’s focused on me.”
He had to be joking. Rachel stared at the gun. One move of the trigger finger and James would be shot. The man took one step down the garage steps, but his weapon remained on target.
The man narrowed his eyes and yelled, “Hands up.”
James slowly began to lift his hands. “Rachel.” His voice sounded like a plea.
“He’s a bad man, Daddy!” one of the boys cried.
The little voice was her undoing. So much could go wrong, but the alternative meant being in the gunman’s control. She’d had more than her share of interactions with arrogant, adrenaline-filled crooks with guns. It never ended well.
Rachel slipped her left hand to the gearshift and shoved it down into Reverse.
The car shot backward. Her head bounced off the headrest as the car smashed against the garage door. The screech of aluminum filled the air as the garage door buckled. James must have floored it.
His hands snatched the steering wheel as the car shot into the street. He swung the car around, and her hands hit the dashboard as he shifted into Drive.
Shards of the left mirror exploded and bounced off the driver’s-side window. It mimicked the sound of hail during a thunderstorm. An involuntary scream tore out of her mouth as the wheels squealed and the car sped down the street.
The boys’ screeches overpowered hers. “Were you hit?” She turned to find the boys petrified in their booster seats. Little teardrops rolled down their cheeks, but they fell silent. No sign of blood or injury.
James said nothing, but his face paled.
Rachel peeked in the right-side mirror. Were they still shooting? Two men in suits were running to the black sedan in the cul-de-sac.
She flung her gaze back to James. “Call the police. Have you called the police?”
“I wish we could, but we can’t.” James zigzagged through the roads out of the subdivision. “Did you hear them? They have fake badges. They shot at us.”
She unzipped her purse, hunting for her phone in the unorganized mess. “All the more reason to call.” If he wasn’t going to do it, she would.
“No. Rachel, we’re dealing with people who are trying to launch a weapon in the sky.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “Imagine what kind of resources they have at their disposal. I won’t trust anyone with the safety of my sons until I hear from Derrick.” He lowered his voice so softly she almost didn’t hear him continue. “I’d die before I let one of those goons close enough to touch them.”
Her fingertips found her phone at the bottom of the bag, but she hesitated to dial. She’d seen firsthand how much he loved his sons and his words only confirmed it. Her finger hovered over the screen. Her heart beat so loudly in her ears she struggled to think straight. “Is Derrick the contact you mentioned? The one from the NSA?”
“Hold on.” He took a turn at a diagonal. “Yes. I need to speak with him, and I need to focus now. I’m driving straight to the police station to drop you off, but I’m begging you... Do not bring us into this. Please.”
Rachel dropped the phone in her lap. She grabbed the handle on the ceiling and pressed her back into the seat. She needed her bearings. He took another curve. Ah, she knew where they were now. She pointed to her right. “Turn here.”
“That’ll take me away from the main road.”
She looked in the side mirror. So far she didn’t see the black sedan in view. That didn’t mean much, though. They could be only half a block away. “You want me to wait to call the police? Fine. But we need to do the unexpected. Trust me.”
James glanced at her before he turned the wheel at the last second. Rachel’s head slammed into his strong shoulder from the momentum.
“Sorry.”
She strained to sit upright. “Drive through the community area.”
He released an exasperated groan. “There’s no road.”
Her hands itched to take the wheel herself, to be back in control. “I know. Drive through it. I’ve sat on that bench and watched teens do it. I called the police, but the point is it can be done.” She shoved a hand past his face, pointing. “Dart through there and you can get to a different exit out of the subdivision. They won’t see where we went. They won’t be able to follow us.” She spoke so rapidly she wasn’t sure if James caught it all.
James shook his head. “Who’s ready for a roller coaster?” he asked drily.
The car dove down the sudden decline and past the basketball court to the left. The whimpers in the back seat morphed into a strange mixture of crying and giggling, as if they didn’t know which emotion was called for at the moment.
He didn’t decrease the acceleration as they went back up the hill and out onto a new street.
“Take a right,” she said. She turned around to get a better view. No sedan in sight. Rachel turned back around. Her stomach roiled as she fought back a sudden rush of motion sickness. “I don’t think they saw us.”
“Because they don’t believe I’m insane.”
“Oh, but backing up through a garage door at gunpoint is perfectly reasonable?” Snarky comebacks came naturally, but she’d grown good at holding her tongue...until now. “Sorry. In times like these, instinct is your ally.” If only she didn’t know it to be true.
He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“Another time.” She exhaled, not willing to expound. They reached the main road, and he took a right, barely squeezing between two cars. The final signs of daylight disappeared as streetlights began to glow. Only the remaining light pink hue hung on the western horizon. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“Whichever way is fastest to blend into traffic. After that, I’ll take you wherever you want.”
“Wherever I want?” Rachel couldn’t believe he said it with all the nonchalance of a cab driver. “You just told me that those men—possibly part of a terrorist plot—are out to get me, and you’re glad to take me wherever I want?”
He darted a glance to the back seat. Rachel cringed. She didn’t want to scare the boys but hopefully they didn’t know what the word “terrorist” meant.
“I thought that’s what you wanted. The police station—”
“I’m sorry. I took it the wrong way. I’m just stressed out. If you think Derrick is the key to safety, I’ll wait until you call him.”
James shoulders sagged. “I can’t apologize enough for getting you involved in this.” He turned onto a main drag and headed for the freeway. He merged into the fastest lane and reached into his pocket to pull out his phone.
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