Holding his Hostage

by Gamet, Amy

  “Just what we needed. There isn’t that much.”

  “This is more than I pack for a month.”

  “A bachelor and a family of four require a very different amount of stuff. Besides, you’d probably wear one pair of cargo shorts the entire time.”

  His voice was muffled. “That’s called efficiency.” The sound of something falling down rumbled from inside the cabinet, then he backed out butt first. “Got it.” He stood. “You stay here. Lucas is awake. I’m going to send him back to you on my way out.”

  “You’re going out there?”

  “I’ll check out the windows first, but yes. It’s probably just an animal.”

  “Really?”

  “Not unless that animal has a cell phone. I saw a light.”

  She balled her hands into fists. “Then why are you telling me it’s an animal?”

  “Because I don’t want you to worry.”

  “Then why did you tell me you saw a light?”

  “Because I didn’t want to lie.” He winked before pulling the goggles over his head, the action just barely visible in the dark room. “Probably just a neighbor out for a walk. I’ll lock the camper door behind me. You stay here.”

  Her heart was hammering hard. Had they been followed here from Sloan’s house despite all their precautions? It didn’t seem possible, yet somehow Bannon had found them at the bank in Hyde Park, and that had seemed impossible too. Someone was out there. Maybe it was a park ranger or one of the other campers. Yes, surely, that must be it.

  Please, God, let that be it.

  Lucas walked into the room and scampered onto her bed. “Sloan has a gun!”

  “I know. It’s okay. He’s in the military.” Or at least he used to be. Not that it mattered, if they were all going to die.

  We’re not going to die!

  She had to stop this. Lucas needed her to be calm. She leaned back on the pillows and opened her arm for her son to cuddle with her. “Watch out for your sister.”

  “Sloan really likes brownies.”

  She was straining to hear outside. “That’s good.”

  “But he really likes to cook.”

  “Okay, then, he should make himself some brownies. Now be quiet.”

  “I told him you make good brownies.”

  “That’s Betty Crocker, but thank you.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. I want to be able to hear.”

  “I don’t think he’d mind taking out the trash. He didn’t really say.”

  “What are we talking about?”

  “Sloan.”

  “And his never-ending love for brownies and trash?”

  He shrugged. “I like him.”

  She frowned, grateful he couldn’t see her face. She’d seen this coming a mile away, Lucas’s quick attachment to Sloan as predictable as the weather. She pulled him closer, wishing she’d given him a better father in the first place, a man he could emulate and love and have that love returned. A man to play baseball with and bake brownies. David had tried, but none of it came naturally to him and he would just get upset.

  Stop it.

  Being this close to Sloan was getting to her. No, kissing Sloan had made her lose her mind. A week ago, that man was a painful memory; now here she was, wondering if maybe—just maybe—they could have a future together.

  And that was insane. One kiss did not a future make. It was for old times’ sake, a necessary evil to satisfy their curiosity so they could move on in different directions. Except it didn’t feel evil at all. It felt heavenly.

  God, when was the last time she’d been so aroused? The simple touch of his hands on her body and she was desperate for more. What would it be like to actually date him again, to have him in her life and in her bed whenever she wanted him there? To make love and to flirt, to talk deep into the night like they had when they were teenagers?

  The kids liked him, at least Fiona and Lucas. She’d been trying to prevent that, yet here they were. Maybe she should embrace it. Let him truly be a part of all their lives and just see what happened. She frowned. He’d already broken her heart once. Did she really want him to break her kids’ hearts, too?

  The crunch of snow beneath heavy feet could be heard outside the camper, and her stare locked on the window beside the bed.

  Probably just a neighbor out for a walk.

  Or a giant bear.

  Or someone here to kill me.

  She felt like a rabbit stopped dead in the road, the grill of a tractor trailer looming. The anxiety that had been her near constant companion locked her joints in place, sure as the rust on the Tin Man.

  Maybe it was Sloan, with his night vision goggles and gun, or maybe Richard Bannon had actually tracked them down. Her stomach lurched at the thought, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

  No. They’d been careful. HERO Force had made sure they hadn’t been followed leaving Sloan’s house. It had to be something else. There must be a rational explanation.

  Shouting erupted outside the camper and she jumped, the voices deep and male. She and Lucas bolted upright in bed. “What’s going on?” he whispered, and she shushed him. There was angry yelling, then a voice that was definitely Sloan’s. Should she go out there and help? He’d told her to stay put, but what if he needed her?

  Suddenly, the camper rocked, the weight of something slamming into it. Gus started barking and Lucas leaned into her body. “I’m scared.”

  “I know, sweetie. It’s okay. Sloan will take care of it.”

  “Who’s out there?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did April come back in?”

  A high-pitched hum vibrated in her ears, time instantly slowing to a crawl. She lifted his chin, demanding his attention. “What do you mean? April didn’t go outside.”

  “Yes, she did. While Sloan and me were getting cookies.”

  Jesus Christ!

  April was out there, and Sloan had a gun. Gone was her earlier inertia. She flew off the bed. “How long ago was that?”

  “I don’t know. Like twenty minutes?”

  She raced for the door. “Stay with Fiona! Don’t come outside!” She fumbled with the lock on the camper door, unable to open it in her desperation to do so. “Sloan!” she screamed as loudly as she could. “April’s out there!”

  15

  Sloan was ambushed from behind, the NVGs ripped from his head and his weapon knocked from his hand. He landed a punch on his attacker, propelling him into the camper, and grabbed his tactical knife from his ankle holster. His attacker advanced, and Sloan got a slice of his arm before being kicked in the groin and going down.

  Son of a bitch.

  The other man took off. Sloan moved to get up, his good arm grazing the cold metal of his handgun, and he grabbed it before coming to a stand. His hands were steady on his Glock, and two figures centered in his line of vision across the campsite, but without the NVGs, he couldn’t see shit. “Put your hands in the air!” The smaller of the two men did as he was told, but the bigger one took off running into the woods. With his weapon trained on the stationary figure, Sloan’s finger hesitated over the trigger.

  The figure sobbed once, the voice high, like a woman’s. “It’s me, April.”

  A huge wave of protectiveness crashed over him. He hadn’t even known she was outside, and she’d been in danger—first from her attacker and then from himself. “Stay there!” He flew back into search mode, scanning the area for the tango who’d gotten away, spotting a figure running across a clearing some hundred yards away, outlined by the white snow. He aimed his weapon.

  “No!” screamed April. “He’s my friend!”

  His limbs continued to move as his brain took a moment to comprehend, Joanne’s story about April’s online boyfriend forcing the pieces into place. He stopped running and turned around. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No. It’s okay.”

  “Instagram?”

  “Yeah,” she said meekly, tears evident in he
r voice.

  “For a nice guy, he packs a hell of a punch. Why the fuck did he come after me, then?”

  “You scared us with your gun and that thing on your head!”

  “Damn it, April, you scared me.” He walked slowly back to her, his hands on his hips. “What the hell was he doing here?”

  She shrugged, still crying. “I wanted to see him. He lives nearby.”

  “Then you tell somebody. You don’t just sneak out of the camper at night and let me think we’re being attacked, for God’s sake.” He was yelling and she was already upset, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. What if things had gone down differently and he’d used his Glock, never knowing it was her? Or what if his goddamn prosthetic had gotten her killed? The possibility had his hand shaking. “Do you realize what could have happened?”

  “I just wanted to meet him, and I knew Mom wouldn’t let me. I didn’t think you’d come after us with a gun!”

  Her fear was evident in her voice, and he finally took a moment to see things from her point of view. She wasn’t even a teenager, she was just a kid. She wanted to see this boy and resorted to sneaking out as millions of girls had done before her.

  He’d come after them with headgear and a Glock.

  No wonder the poor thing was terrified.

  He opened his arms. “Come here.” She didn’t budge, and his arms fell to his sides. “I’m sorry. I knew someone was out here and I needed to protect your mother.”

  “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I think I cut your friend’s arm.”

  “Bad?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t know.” She wiped her eyes and nose with one swipe, the gesture so childlike he was struck by the awkwardness of her age. “Come on. Let’s go in to your mother. She’s got to be worried sick by now.”

  She sighed. “Mom’s awake?”

  “Most definitely.”

  She fell into step beside him. “You’re not going to tell her.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “She’s going to kill me.”

  “Probably.”

  “She’s never going to give me my phone back.”

  “Absolutely not.” He picked up his NVGs and brushed off snow and dirt. “There are cookies on the counter. Milk’s in the fridge.”

  The door of the camper rattled dramatically. “April’s out there!” Jo yelled.

  “Calm down, I know. I’ve got her. Let go of the handle.”

  “Don’t shoot her!”

  “Jo, calm down. Let go of the door.” He reached in his pocket and withdrew the key, then unlocked the door and opened it. She all but fell out of the RV and pulled April into her arms. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What were you doing out here late at night? You scared the hell out of us!”

  April pulled back. “I was meeting my friend.”

  “What?”

  Sloan put his arm on Jo’s back. “It’s cold out here. Let’s talk inside.” He could feel the tension in her body, about to unleash. Joanne was going to lay into April but good. “Godspeed,” he whispered under his breath, following the pair inside.

  All hell broke loose at that point, and Sloan quietly picked up his phone and retreated to the bedroom, perching on the edge of the bed beside the sleeping Fiona and checking his messages. Moto had answered him.

  ALREADY GOT IT. THIS THE WIFE?

  A video file was attached. “Fuck,” he whispered, hitting play.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Lucas, crossing to his side.

  “I shouldn’t have said that. Didn’t see you there.” A woman entered the picture, but it was too far away to see her face clearly.

  “Mom’s screaming at April. I’m staying away. What are you watching?”

  “A surveillance video. Just take a sec.”

  Lucas leaned over the screen. “That a bank?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The camera angle switched to a shot from the teller’s point of view, the woman’s face now clearly visible. It wasn’t Jo, and Sloan released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He’d been afraid she had been lying to him, and it was a relief to realize she was not. He flicked off the video.

  Lucas’s expression was dark, his stare boring into Sloan’s.

  “What’s wrong, kiddo?” Sloan asked.

  “That’s her.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Who?”

  “The woman my dad was kissing.”

  16

  Joanne dug a roll of antacids from her purse. “I don’t like getting this close to Richard Bannon on purpose.”

  “It’s his wife’s office, not his.”

  “That’s still too close.” She bit down on the chalky tablet. She was cranky, having gotten little sleep last night after April’s escapades and Sloan sharing the video of McKenzie at the bank. Jo’s mind had been full of questions and possible scenarios that could explain why David’s former lover would be withdrawing large sums of money after he died.

  If he’d died at all.

  Bannon had claimed to have killed him, but what if that was a lie to make her believe he was capable of hurting her kids? The thought had begun to percolate the moment she’d seen the video, regardless of the body in the casket they had buried. Someone had died in that hunting cabin, and she’d assumed it had been David. But what if she’d been wrong? What if they were all wrong?

  David was having an affair with Bannon’s wife, and if he wasn’t really dead, that gave them both an entirely different motivation. Maybe he was alive and well and living on the beach with McKenzie somewhere.

  According to Moto at HERO Force, David had several joint bank accounts with his former secretary, which was why she was able to withdraw the money. McKenzie was the key, the answer to this riddle that had turned Jo’s world upside down, and she wasn’t sure if she was hoping to find the other woman at work or not. “What if he’s alive?”

  Sloan sighed heavily. “I was wondering the same thing. Between the money and the mistress, it’s looking like he had plenty of reason to fake his own death.”

  “But there’s a body. If David’s alive, who died in that fire?”

  “Impossible to say.”

  “This is unbelievable. And we’re running out of time.”

  “Don’t panic. We’re working on it. HERO Force is doing all they can to find out more about McKenzie’s financial records.” They drove to the opposite side of the city and exited the expressway in an expensive suburb. “How well did you know her?”

  Jo shrugged. “Not well. She came over to the house a few times to work on projects with David on weekends. He had a home office.” How foolish she’d been then. She glanced over her shoulder to be sure the kids couldn’t hear their conversation, finding them engrossed in their electronics. “They probably had fuck parties in there while I was knocking politely and bringing them coffee.”

  “Fuck parties?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a fuck party.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He turned down a quaint little main street lined with glass-fronted businesses. “That’s it, next to the coffee shop. Number fourteen-twelve.” He pulled into a parking spot.

  Joanne unbuckled her seat belt. “What are we going to say to this woman? Excuse me, but I know you were boffing my husband. Were you also stealing money from yours and planning a dramatic getaway? Oh, and by the way, any chance David’s still alive and hiding out in your basement?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Can I come in?” piped Lucas.

  “No,” Sloan and Joanne said in unison.

  “Can I get gum?” he asked.

  “They don’t sell gum at interior decorating firms. We’ll only be a few minutes,” she added, opening her door and climbing down from the high seat onto a sidewalk dusted with fresh snow
. Next door, an older woman watched them with open curiosity from the wide window of a knitting shop.

  Sloan met Jo beside the camper. “Neighborhood watch,” he said, indicating the woman and offering her a friendly wave.

  “Best security system around.” She followed him to the door. “I hate this.”

  “You can wait in the camper.”

  “No way.” He pulled the door handle, finding it locked, and rang the doorbell. Joanne’s heart was beating like a ticking clock. When no one answered, he cupped his hands around his eyes and peered inside. “Looks like they’re closed.” Desks were clear, and shelves that looked like they should be stocked stood bare. “Looks like they’ve been closed for a while. Ten bucks says the knitting lady knows what’s up.”

  “Should we ask her?”

  “Yeah. Pretend you’re tight with McKenzie. You can say you used to work with her at David’s accounting firm.”

  “Oh, God, don’t make me lie.” She turned and headed next door.

  “Really doesn’t come naturally to you, does it?”

  “You know it doesn’t.”

  “Just a little white lie. No big deal. You smile and say, ‘Do you know when McKenzie will be back in the office? I used to work with her at…’ What’s the name of the firm?”

  “Baldwin & Regan.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course it is. So, ‘I used to work with her at Baldwin & Regan. My husband and I just happened to be passing through town—’”

  “Husband?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? Easiest way to explain me being here.”

  “I’d rather say literally anything else.”

  “Who else would you be traveling with?”

  “I don’t know, but there’s no way you’re going to be my husband in this scenario.” He could be her pimp or even her parole officer. Anything but her husband.

  “We got married in the Florida Keys,” he said. “Very spur-of-the-moment. Honeymooned in the South of France. The kids were thrilled, of course.”

  She gave him her best stink eye, then pulled open the door of the knitting shop. The woman from the window pulled her cardigan closed against the cold. “May I help you?”