The door opened and he shoved her inside.
Cheyenne was sitting on the ground, her wrists tied together and her arms linked around one of the steel posts that ran from the ceiling to the floor. Her face brightened when she saw Molly. “Ma!”
Molly pressed a fist to her chest and struggled against the overwhelming urge to cry. She started toward Cheyenne. “My sweet baby girl, I—” She was cut off when Wade yanked her back by the hair.
He dragged her toward another post and threw her down. She landed hard on the filthy concrete floor and saw stars when she banged her bruised thigh. “Stop. What are you doing?”
“Shut up.” A knee came down on her back, pinning her to the floor.
“But we had a deal.”
“There’s been a change of plans.” He twisted her arms behind her back and dragged her across the rough ground toward a steel pole.
“Stop it! You’re hurting her!” Cheyenne wailed and the fear in her voice broke Molly’s heart.
“You lied to me just to lure me here,” Molly hissed. “You had your chance to get away. If you hurt us, nothing will stop Anders and Mitch from finding you and killing you.”
“Brave words for a woman who’s stupid enough to think I would simply let her go.”
Molly prided herself on being street savvy. On being able to read people. Her gut told her not to trust Wade and she’d done it anyhow. Now Cheyenne was paying the price for her mistake. “Let my daughter go. Please.”
“Stop talking and be still or I’ll tape your mouth shut,” he said, duct taping Molly’s wrists together behind her back so her arms were locked around the pole. He tossed the tape aside as he headed for the door. “I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get the boat ready. We’re going for a little ride.”
In a hurricane? He was insane. She started to tell him that but he was already on the other side of the door, engaging the padlock.
“Ma, where’s Mitch and Anders? Did they follow you? How are they going to break the lock?”
Ignoring the guilt that sat heavily on her chest, Molly climbed to her feet awkwardly. “They aren’t here. I came alone.”
“What? Why?”
“I can’t explain right now. We don’t have much time, but don’t worry. I got this.” One of the benefits of knowing a former Navy SEAL was that they taught you things you hoped you’d never have to use, like survival skills and self-defense tactics. A few months ago, Jimmy decided to teach Sophie how to use a knife and escape from different scenarios, and Molly had sat in on the lesson. Now here she was, in a real life-or-death situation with a knife strapped to her thigh and her wrists bound behind her back.
Planting her butt back against the post, she fisted her hands and lifted her arms as far as she could raise them. Then, she slammed her bound wrist down on the pole. She winced as shards of pain darted up her forearms.
“What are you doing, Ma?”
“Hush.” Arms stinging like a firecracker, Molly bent at the knees again and raised her hands once more. This time, she made sure she pulled her wrists apart when they hit the pole. The tape snapped, and she fell forward, landing hard on her shoulder.
“Damn, Ma. How’d you do that?”
“I told you, I got this.” Molly reached under the leg of her cargo shorts, ripped the knife from her thigh and then used it to cut Cheyenne free.
The girl flew into Molly’s arms and squeezed the oxygen out of her lungs. “I never thought I was going to see you again.”
“I was afraid too, but we’re together now. Let’s got out of here.”
“How?”
Molly stood up and eyed the sketchy pile of crates in the corner of the room as she tucked the knife into her pocket. The window above them was open, but it was at least seven or eight feet off the ground. “I think those crates will hold together long enough for us to climb. We’ll have to hurry though.”
Molly picked the best-looking crate of the bunch and tried to drag it over to the window. It was heavier than it looked. “Get on the other side and help me push.”
Together, they muscled the three-foot-square wooden box to the wall. Molly already knew she wasn’t going to be strong enough to pull herself up into the open window. “Stack some of those loose boards on top.”
They grabbed the pieces of rotten wood and made a pile.
“That’s good enough,” Cheyenne said, already climbing up onto the crate. “Let’s go.”
The teenager had at least five inches on Molly and she was lithe, lean, and agile. Despite her lack of athletic ability, Cheyenne managed to pull herself up into the window fairly easily. It was a narrow fit, but she straddled the ledge sideways.
“Come on, Ma!”
Grunting, Molly climbed up onto the crate not nearly as gracefully as her daughter had. “What’s down below?”
Cheyenne leaned out to investigate. “About five feet of dock. It looks slippery, but I think if I hang down, the drop won’t be too bad.”
Molly caught the ledge and tested out the wobbly pile of wood. It had stayed in place for Cheyenne, but Molly was wary of it. She needed the extra boost though if she was going to make it onto the ledge. This wasn’t going to be pretty. “You go ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”
“No, I’m not leaving you.” Cheyenne’s brow furrowed and, for a moment, she was six again, frightened and distressed after a bad dream.
“You have to move out of the window for me to climb up there.”
The padlock on the door rattled.
Wade was back.
There was no more time.
Molly’s heart climbed into her throat. She shoved at Cheyenne’s foot. “Go. Hurry. Don’t wait for me. I want you to find your way out of here. There’s a bar about a block from the entrance to this place. It’s open. You’ll hear the music. Go there, find a phone, and call Anders.”
“But, Ma! I can’t do it by myself.”
“You can and you must! Please, baby girl. You got this far on your own. I was wrong for not trusting you. You are smart and brave, and you’re a survivor just like me. I love you, and I’m so proud of you.”
Cheyenne’s face crinkled with anguish. “I won’t let you down. I love you.”
Witnessing her daughter’s pain revitalized Molly. She wasn’t going down without a fight. Girding herself for what she needed to do, she gave Cheyenne Anders’ phone number and then climbed off the crate. If Cheyenne was going to get away, Molly needed to distract Wade or stop him altogether. Dashing across the room, she planted herself behind the door and took out her knife. She had one chance to take him by surprise.
The metal door blew open, missing her by inches as it slammed back against the wall. Wade rushed into the warehouse then stopped short when he realized Molly and Cheyenne weren’t where he’d left them.
Molly aimed for his kidney. The blade bounced off bone, pricking him in the back but not doing any serious damage.
He shouted and swung around, knocking her sideways into a crate. She was too stunned to feel the pain as the rotting wood disintegrated beneath her.
“Where’s the girl?” he shouted, stalking toward her. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her forward. “Tell me or I’ll burn this place down with you in it.”
Molly had lost the knife when she missed her target, but she still had her fists. She swung her arm around and smashed Wade’s nose. He howled and let go of her. She scrambled to her feet and made it through the door. Plunging into the blowing rain, she made it past the car before he caught up with her.
Grabbing her from behind, he put her in a headlock and squeezed her throat until she was choking for air.
“Where is she?”
Molly shook her head or tried to. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She could suddenly feel again though and her body was throbbing like a toothache from being tossed around like a rag doll.
“Is this a trick? Is she hiding in the office? If I have to search for her, I’
ll shoot you where you stand, and then I’ll shoot your daughter when I find her. And I will find her.”
Trembling from head to toe with a mixture of fear and fury, Molly tried to tell him to go to hell, but the words were garbled in her throat. She pulled at his arm, urging him to let up. When he eased his grip, she sucked in a deep gulp of air. “Cheyenne is no threat to you. She’s a teenage girl with a big imagination. No one will believe her story, even if she tries to tell it. Even I didn’t believe her at first.” That still pained Molly to admit, but it was the truth.
“I was going to make your deaths look like an unfortunate boating accident, but now you’ve left me no choice.” He withdrew his gun from its holster and shoved it against Molly’s head.
A deep quake rippled through her body, and her knees threatened to crumble. “No. No, please.”
Grabbing her arm, he shoved her forward, bypassing the car as he headed toward the side of the building where Cheyenne had jumped out the window. If she was still there waiting for Molly, it would be over for the both of them.
Just before they reached the corner, Molly tripped on purpose and stumbled. Wade nearly pulled her arm out of its socket, dragging her to her feet.
“Keep moving,” he said, forcing her to step down onto the wooden dock that ran the length of the building.
Cheyenne was nowhere in sight.
Leading Molly to the small motorboat tied to the dock, Wade told her to get in. The boat was rising and falling on the rough surf, making it impossible for her to step into the vessel without falling. She tumbled forward, landing hard on the wet, slick surface. Wade produced more tape and bound her arms behind her back before he slapped a piece across her mouth.
This was it. She was minutes away from death. At least Cheyenne had gotten away. Molly could go to her grave knowing Cheyenne was safe. Even if she ended up with Trevor, she was a good kid. She’d be okay. And Anders… Wade would’ve killed him too if Molly had brought him along. Maybe she’d done the right thing after all. She loved him. She was so grateful for last night, for being able to show him just how much he meant to her. She could die with no regrets. Fate was a funny thing. From the first time she’d heard Anders’ voice on the radio to the moment she spilled hot coffee on his lap—all of it had been leading to that one cataclysmic moment when the stars aligned and, for the space of a few hours, fantasy became reality and he was hers.
Wade untied the boat and pushed away from the dock before returning to the wheel. Molly leaned against the rear bench seat, bound and gagged, exhausted and defeated.
Providence had a cruel sense of humor.
Forcing herself to get up and climb to her feet, she only made it to her knees on the slippery surface. With Wade’s back turned, she tried to free herself from the tape like she had in the warehouse, but gathering the momentum while kneeling on the topsy-turvy deck was a thousand times more difficult. She lost her balance and fell hard against the seat.
Glancing back at her, Wade shouted, “Stay down.”
She ignored him and struggled to her knees again.
The boat rocked wildly.
The wind howled.
And Molly raised her bound arms up and slammed them down against her thighs. It didn’t work. Wade turned around and kicked her sideways. She flew backward against the seat, and one of her hands slipped free of the soggy duct tape.
Hope fluttered in her chest. She ripped the strip off her mouth and ignored the sting as she desperately scanned the deck for something she could use as a weapon. Her gaze settled on the oar attached to the inside of the boat in case of an emergency.
They were only twenty feet from shore because the wind and surf kept pushing them back.
It was now or never.
“Molly!” Anders shouted from the dock, but his voice was carried away by the wind.
She lunged for something. Wade turned around. Molly picked up an oar and swung for his head.
Anders clenched his fists as Wade deflected the blow and knocked Molly backward. She sprawled on the deck and Wade raised his gun.
No. No. No.
A single shot rang out.
Anders tensed and jerked as if he’d taken the bullet himself. His chest exploded with pain and his knees threatened to buckle. Molly, no…
Wade staggered back a step then crumpled to the ground.
The shot hadn’t come from the boat. It had come from above Anders’ head.
Mitch ran around the corner of the warehouse with his gun drawn. “What the hell happened? We heard a shot.”
Cheyenne was behind him, bedraggled and pale. “Where’s Ma? What happened to Ma?”
Before Anders could reply, a rogue wave caught the motorboat and picked it up sideways. “Molly!” The word tore from his throat as the little boat capsized.
“Ma!”
Anders kicked off his shoes.
“Wait!” Mitch said. “It’s too dangerous.”
Anders ignored the warning and dove cleanly into the churning water. Swimming toward the boat with strong, powerful strokes, he pushed through the waves that smacked him in the face and resisted the current sucking at his legs, trying to pull him under. The boat was nose up and sinking fast when he reached it. Wade’s body floated face down in the water beside the oar and other debris.
“Molly!” Anders shouted again and got slapped in the face with a mouthful of salt water.
A head popped out of the water. Gasping, Molly shoved her sopping wet hair out of her face.
Anders’ chest swelled with emotion, and he laughed. She was okay. The damn woman was alive. He grabbed her and pulled her close, supporting her as she struggled to tread water in the rough surf.
“I was trapped,” she shouted over the howling wind.
“You done good.” With one arm locked around her waist, he started swimming awkwardly toward the dock.
“Wade’s dead,” she shouted again. “Someone shot him.”
Anders had almost forgotten about that. Scanning the warehouse’s roof, he saw a masked figure stand up holding a rifle. The man had been lying flat against the roof, blending in so seamlessly he would have remained invisible if he hadn’t given himself away. He was dressed in some sort of black military gear.
“On the roof,” Molly shouted the warning to Mitch.
Mitch spun around and pointed his gun.
The figure carefully set the rifle down and put his hands up in supplication. He bent just as a slowly and placed his hands on the edge of the roof. Tucking into a ball, he rolled forward over the edge, executing the feat with graceful control. Then he hung down the fourteen-foot wall, stretching his long body out before he let go and dropped the remaining four feet to the ground.
Mitch was tense and ready to fire if necessary.
Only a few feet away from the dock now, Anders held back, keeping Molly behind him.
The mystery man cautiously reached up and removed his mask.
Staring in disbelief at his brother, Anders’ chest tightened and he whispered, “Jonas.”
Mitch lowered his gun and put it away.
“Help them.” Cheyenne tugged on Mitch’s arm.
Mitch pulled Molly up while Anders gave her a boost from behind. Cheyenne flew into her mother’s arms while Mitch crouched beside them, shielding them from the wind and rain. Anders climbed out of the water himself without assistance.
Jonas stood a few feet away, silently observing the scene.
Anders was torn between wanting to rail at his brother for killing a man and wanting to thank him for saving Molly’s life. If Jonas hadn’t shot first, she’d be dead. When Anders gained his feet, he faced his brother. “What are you doing here?”
“Linus sent me after Wade.” Jonas’ low, gravelly voice was barely audible over the snapping wind. “Told me to take care of the situation.”
Anders frowned. “So you shot him dead?”
Jonas’ face remained impassive as he lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “Not the plan but this was easier.”
The total lack of emotion in his voice chilled Anders to the bone. This was what his baby brother had become? A monster capable of taking a human life with the proficiency and callousness of a professional killer?
Anders eyed the military-grade uniform. Recalled the insane acrobatic skills and high-powered rifle that looked like something out of a sci-fi war movie, and suddenly he wasn’t so sure what he was looking at. What if Jonas wasn’t just an uneducated, mentally damaged ex-con doing grunt work for a paranoid millionaire? What if he was something more?
Molly wrapped her arms around Anders’ waist, pulling him away from his thoughts. Smiling at Jonas, she said, “Thank you for saving my life.”
Jonas nodded once then glanced away.
Giving Anders a squeeze, she said, “You too. How did you find me?”
“We tracked you to the city docks.” He cupped her upturned face. “We found your raincoat in a puddle. Your phone’s toast.”
“Dagnabit.”
“Hey, let’s get out of the storm,” Mitch suggested and led them to the shelter of the open warehouse.
Jonas didn’t follow. Anders noticed this with some irritation, but there was nothing he could do about it now. The conversation wasn’t over. He’d figure out what was really going on.
Inside the relative warmth and safety of the warehouse, Mitch picked up the story. “We were about two blocks from The Warf Bar when Anders realized Cheyenne had left a message on his phone. We walked in there and found the kid sitting on a bar stool sipping a hot toddy like she was Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca.”
“It was tea!” the teenager insisted, laughing. “I left the message for Anders and was just waiting for him to call me back or come and get me.”
Anders had walked through the door not expecting to find her there. When she’d flown off the stool and into his arms, he caught her and squeezed her so tight she squeaked. He was just so happy and relieved to know she was safe. His elation had faded when Cheyenne babbled out the story of how she’d gotten away from Wade but Molly hadn’t.
Anders cleared his throat, attempting to dislodge the lump that had set up residence there. “Chey led us back to the warehouse. She was a rock star.”
Bahama Mama Page 28