A shiver shot up Dylan’s spine and prickled the short hairs on the nape of his neck. Were they going to just shoot him? It sure sounded like it. And if they did that, what about Kyle?
“You have to release my son,” he insisted. “You promised.”
“Not us,” the remaining man told him while the driver slogged through the mud and rain to confer with the party in the other car. “We don’t give orders, we take ’em.”
Dylan huffed. “Yeah, I know the feeling. It was taking orders to expedite adoptions that got me where I am tonight.”
The thug guffawed. He seemed about to speak when they both saw the headlights from the other car flash. “That’s our signal. Come on. Get moving.”
As Dylan exited the car he felt the pressure of the gun barrel against his back. Fear made his knees weak. Faith kept him standing and walking boldly forward.
The sight of his son, alive and well, running toward him through the downpour, lifted his heart and made any sacrifice worthwhile.
Dylan’s only remaining regret was that he had failed to tell Grace how much he loved her when he’d had a chance.
* * *
Radio chatter was kept to a minimum, meaning the marshals relied heavily on their cell phones as long as they still had a signal. When they lost that, they fell back on their radios.
It did nothing to calm Grace’s nerves to sense that the pros were as nervous as she was. That did not bode well for poor little Kyle. Or for her husband.
Thinking of them as a family unit, she was reminded of Solomon’s wise advice about dividing a baby to see which woman was its real mother. In her case, the division was about to take place and she was likely to lose at least one of the halves; either Kyle or his father.
There was no way her finite mind could handle thoughts like that, yet when she tried again to redirect it she failed miserably. All she could think of was her loved ones and their plight. For her, there was nothing else.
The radio barked in the front seat. Marshal Summers leaned forward to listen, then said, “All right, Grace. It looks like the SUV carrying your husband has stopped. Some of us are going to get out and circle around so we can come at them from all sides. You’re to stay right here.”
“But I...”
Summers shook her head emphatically. “No buts. I was taking a big chance by bringing you along. If you don’t follow my orders you might get hurt. Or, worse, you might cause us to have to hold our fire so the men who took your husband and the boy escape. You certainly don’t want that to happen.”
“Of course not.”
“Then stay put and let us do our jobs. As soon as we have Kyle, someone will bring him to you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” the marshal said. “I’ll do everything I can to make this work. Believe me, I know how it feels to lose someone you love.”
Watching the others move away from both official cars and blend into the landscape, Grace wished she hadn’t put Beth’s plastic bag in the trash. If she still had it she could at least step out without getting soaked.
Her hand rested on the door handle in the backseat, her fingers itching to give it a yank. She’d noticed that the dome light had stayed off when the others climbed out so surely opening her door wouldn’t attract undue attention. At least she might be able to hear more. Being stuck in the closed vehicle was akin to sitting in a soundproofed room. She couldn’t bear not to know what was going on, no matter the risk to her personal safety.
Cautiously, Grace eased open the car door and slid out. Precipitation had slacked off but the electrical storm hung on, lighting the stormy sky and giving her goose bumps when thunder clapped on the heels of the original flash.
The following boom sounded so close it made her hair prickle. She ducked, pressing her body to the side of the car. “I should be inside so the rubber tires can insulate me,” she told herself.
Another bolt shot to earth. Then another. Grace reached for the exterior door handle and pulled. Nothing happened! Had she inadvertently locked herself out? Or could the official car have been engineered that way to prevent theft or tampering?
She duck-walked to the opposite side. It, too, was locked. Which left as her only option the lead car that had transported Josh McCall and a few deputies.
Making it from her present position to the other car would have been simple if there had not been falling rain coupled with a rough road and almost no ambient light.
Grace waited for more lightning to show her the best course, then started off while the picture of the terrain was still glowing. “Just a little farther,” she murmured, wiping her wet face with her hand and pushing long bangs off her forehead.
The next flash brought her the final few feet to the car’s rear bumper. She paused, wondering if there was anyone left to guard it or if all the other agents had gone with Marshals Summers and McCall.
The next boom came without a flash. Grace instinctively ducked, realizing belatedly that this particular noise was different than what she’d been hearing. This was more like a crack, high-pitched yet resonant.
She started to straighten, to peer in the direction of the noise. It came again, this time with a flash that began and ended on her level. That was gunfire!
Her heart clenched. Were the marshals shooting at the kidnappers? Would they do that knowing that Dylan and Kyle were present? Perhaps they’d be forced to return fire if the crooks had shot at them.
Which meant they’d located their quarry and were closing in. She couldn’t just stand there while her family was being shot to pieces. She had to help.
Before Grace could decide what to do next, a hooded figure came at her through the rain and mist. Initially she thought the man was enormous. Then she realize he was carrying something that made him seem much taller.
Rising, she showed herself in spite of the sporadic firing that continued in the distance.
The black-draped figure reached the lead car and ducked beside it.
When he straightened moments later, he had a pistol pointed directly at Grace. “What are you doing here?”
* * *
Because Dylan had not been tied or handcuffed, he was able to fend for himself when the shooting started. He had not seen Kyle, nor was he sure who the combatants were, but he assumed at least some of them were on his side. Being caught in the crossfire was bad enough without finding out that both sides were intent on doing you in.
Beyond his position he heard a man scream, then moan for a moment before falling silent.
Another bullet broke a car window above his head, sending shards of glass raining down on him. He crawled forward, searching for his son. If he’d dared take the chance on Kyle answering and giving himself away, he’d have shouted for him.
Other voices were raised. Until Dylan knew who had won the battle he was not about to reveal his position.
“Got him!” someone yelled.
“Then get him out of here,” was the answer.
Could they be referring to Kyle? Had his sacrifice been enough? Dylan’s breath failed him. He used the side of the car to pull himself to his feet.
That had to be it, he insisted, already praising God in his heart and mind. Kyle was safe. The marshals or other officers had rescued him!
As Dylan pivoted toward the place where he hoped to catch a glimpse of his son, more shots echoed. The first was followed by a volley but he scarcely noticed.
He was already falling.
* * *
Grace ignored the marshal and dropped to her knees to gather Kyle close, raining kisses on his wet hair and cheeks until he rebelled. “Mo-om. I’m okay. Honest.”
She saw his grin through her tears and returned it as best she could. “Where’s your daddy?”
The child’s cocky attitude vanished. “Dad’s
here?”
“Yes. He arranged to trade himself for you. Didn’t you see him when they let you go?”
Kyle was blinking rapidly, clearly a lot more concerned than he had been. “No. The guy who had me in his car jumped out and ran away, so I did, too.” He glanced over his shoulder. “A marshal found me.”
“They’d promised to bring you to me and they did.” Grace gave the sopping-wet boy another squeeze and a kiss, this time without protest, then held him by the shoulders to look him straight in the eyes. Even in the near-dark she could tell he was crying.
“Your daddy is a very brave man,” she said, pushing through the emotion that kept making her voice break. “I never realized that before, at least not well enough to tell him how proud I was—I am—of him.”
“You can tell him soon,” Marshal Summers said from beyond the first car. “They’re bringing him in.”
Grace arose on quaking legs, her eldest son at her side. “They are? Is he all right? There was so much shooting I was afraid he might...”
“Oh, he’s got another little nick in him but it doesn’t seem to be slowing him down much.”
“Dylan was shot!”
“Grazed,” Summers told her. “That’s a lot better than two of the three others.”
“Your people are all okay?”
“Yes. And your husband would be, too, if he’d kept his head down. Which reminds me.” She scowled. “What are you doing out of the car?”
“I just stepped out for a second and the door locked behind me. I couldn’t get back in when I tried.” Grace pointed. “That one’s locked up tight, too.”
“For your protection,” Marshal McCall said as he joined them. He was assisting Dylan, although it looked to Grace as if her husband was steady enough on his own.
She left Kyle with Summers and ran to him, pausing just short of recklessly throwing herself into his arms. “Where are you hurt? I can’t tell.”
“Does that mean I can’t have one of your special hugs until I wash this mud off?” The way he was smiling, the way his dark eyes were reflecting the glow from the headlights, told her how truly happy he was to be back with her.
That was all the encouragement Grace needed. She reached up, cupped his cheeks and pulled his face down for the first of many kisses to come. When she came up for air she whispered, “I love you, Mr. Appleby.”
“I love you, too. Will you marry me?”
“I already did that once.”
“I know. I just thought it might be good to start from the beginning to see if we can get it right the second time around.”
“I know we can. Where shall we go on our honeymoon?”
Marshal McCall edged closer and cupped his hand around his mouth to offer, “How about Hawaii?”
“Really?” Grace was both astounded and excited. “To visit or to stay?”
“That depends on how well your kids behave themselves in this new life,” McCall said flatly. “You obviously can’t go home after tonight. I have hopes we’ll be able to track down the one survivor and get him to talk, but there are no guarantees. He may not know who’s really pulling the strings. We’ll pack for you and send your belongings to our office in the islands.”
Grace slipped an arm around her husband’s waist, unmindful of his wet, dirty clothing. “How will Dylan testify if we’re so far away?”
“He may not need to if his deposition works well. A lot will depend upon our ability to unravel the rest of the mysteries surrounding the origins of some of the babies who passed through his office.”
Grace felt Dylan tensing before he said, “I’ve been giving that some thought. Marshal Phillips showed me a picture of one of the babies he’d helped rescue recently. I wish I could see it again.”
McCall pulled out his cell phone and brought up the photo of a laughing, blond child without too much delay. “Did it look like this?”
“Yes. Is that a girl?”
“Yes. Why? Do you recognize her?”
“I didn’t think so at first but while I was held prisoner I couldn’t get those big blue eyes out of my mind. I think that’s Isabella, Vanessa Martinez’s daughter.”
“What makes you think so?” Marshal Summers had joined the group and was also staring at the photo.
“Because I remember thinking how odd it was for a woman of her apparent ethnicity to have such a fair baby. She was one of the ones I thought might have been a fake after I found out about the counterfeit paperwork.”
“We call her Baby C,” Summers said. “Now that I have a name I should be able to trace the mother by starting with border towns.”
“Try looking around El Paso first,” Dylan said. “I seem to recall something about her being picked up for shoplifting before she agreed to relinquish the child. There may be a connection. I wouldn’t put it past these guys to use blackmail.”
Grace cuddled closer to her husband, giving thanks that his upstanding character had not only resurfaced, it had been fire-polished in the process.
Her upturned face caught his attention. “I love you, Gracie. Did I mention that?”
“Yes, but I’ll never get tired of hearing you say it. I love you, too. More than ever.”
“We’re not the same people we were the first time we walked down the aisle,” Dylan said softly, just for her.
“I know.” A shining smile lit her face and her eyes twinkled as she turned her gaze toward the clearing sky and whispered, “Thank You, God.”
EPILOGUE
The black sand beach was warm beneath Grace’s bare feet as she stood under an arbor with her groom. He was wearing a blue-and-yellow-flowered shirt and her flattering sarong complemented it perfectly.
Beth stood beside the bride, holding her orchid bouquet while Brandon was the ring bearer and Kyle the best man. This time, Grace was mature enough to actually hear every word the preacher spoke and remember with gratitude how they had ended up there.
They were renewing their vows as Mr. and Mrs. London, Roger and Edie, while the children had been encouraged to choose their own new names. Kyle had had everyone in stitches by picking every superhero on record, finally agreeing to Clark. Beth had insisted that Elizabeth entitled her to go by Liz, and Brandon had chosen Teddy in honor of his favorite stuffed bear, one of the gigantic ones his daddy had brought home from work as a memento.
When they turned to leave the arbor, Dylan spotted a solitary figure in a dark suit standing at the edge of the lava flow that bordered one end of the beach. He nudged Gracie. “Look, Edie. We have a wedding guest.”
Her first reaction was fear, followed quickly by relief when the figure waved and started toward them.
The men shook hands. Grace kept hold of her husband’s arm, unwilling to share him with Marshal McCall for even a few minutes.
“Don’t look so worried,” the marshal said. “I just came to check on you and to bring you some good news.”
“You’ll have trouble topping what just happened right here,” Grace said.
“Undoubtedly. However, I thought you’d like to know that we found the Martinez woman and flew her to Missouri to be reunited with her baby. The foster parents had hoped to eventually adopt and were crushed, but at least Vanessa knows what’s become of her baby. It’s a good start.”
“What about the guy you were looking for after the shootout in Houston? Did you find him and get him to talk?”
Grace tightened her hold on Dylan’s arm when the marshal shook his head and sobered. Before he actually said so, she sensed what had happened. Another possible witness had been killed before he could be convinced to inform on his bosses.
Standing there in the warm sunshine of such a lush paradise, it was hard to imagine so many evil people and so much loss.
Given their past, she knew she and Dylan migh
t never be totally free of worry, yet she also knew better than to complain about the blessings God had bestowed; not because they were such worthy humans, but because He was so merciful.
From now on, she vowed she would see life as the special gift it was and give thanks for every single second of it, particularly when she was sharing it with the wonderful man she had just married. Again.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from BODYGUARD REUNION by Margaret Daley.
Dear Reader,
This was a very special book for me. It helped lead me to a much deeper faith. As God led me to see the fragility of life through Grace McIntyre’s eyes, He helped me heal in my personal life. Because the Lord had prepared me, I made it through. And I’m stronger for it. I pray that you will call upon Jesus in times of trouble and learn, as I did, that He is always with you.
Blessings,
Questions for Discussion
Have you ever known anyone who is certain, as Dylan was, that it’s okay to bend the law for a higher purpose? Is that wise?
How do you think the coerced mothers of the babies felt? Is it possible that some of them were okay because they felt their children would be better off?
I have friends who adopted wonderful kids. Is that something you might want to do or would you have trouble accepting a child that you did not actually give birth to?
Just because a woman gives birth, does she automatically feel a bond with her baby? If not, why might she have trouble?
Grace chooses the well-being of her children over her own wants and needs. Is that how a parent is supposed to feel? What might alter that choice?
Grace and Dylan had drifted apart slowly. Do you think Grace was right in filing for divorce? Might she have hoped that her action would wake up her husband to his faults? Is that smart?
Even after Dylan learns that he has been an unwitting party to crime, he still tries to justify his actions. Isn’t that typical human behavior?
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