“Just call me Ed, honey.”
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” I held out my hand and gave his a firm shake.
“That’s quite the grip you got there,” he said. “For such a shrimp.” But he softened his words with a wink.
I laughed.
He was a big man, just like Holt, with wide shoulders and long legs. He had dark hair too, but his was streaked with gray and was a bit longer than Holt’s, hanging down to brush against the collar of his shirt.
He was very tan, like he spent a lot of time in the sun, and he had friendly wrinkles around his eyes that made him look like he smiled an awful lot.
“My dad stopped by on his lunch hour. He owns a construction business.”
“Oh, what kinds of places do you build?”
“Mostly custom homes, but I’d consider any kind of job.”
“Did you build this house?”
“Good heaven’s no!” Pam laughed. “He’s such a perfectionist it never would have been done. We’d be living in an apartment waiting for it to be finished!”
Pam went to the refrigerator and started piling some cold cuts and cheese on the table. “Katie, honey, hand me that bread over there,” she said, pointing to the counter behind me.
I handed it to her and she smiled.
“Holt, I’m making your father a sandwich. Do you want one?”
“I’m starved,” he said.
“You just ate!” I exclaimed.
“You ate all my bacon,” he accused.
“I did not!” I laughed, reaching in for a slice of bread and throwing it at him.
He snagged it out of the air and took a huge bite. Holt’s dad grinned. “I like this one, son. Better not let her go.”
“I don’t plan on it,” he said, giving me a meaningful stare.
I felt my cheeks heat and I made myself busy putting together a sandwich for him.
“Katie, make one for you too,” Pam said, handing me the mayo.
“Oh, no. That bacon really filled me up.” I grinned slyly.
She laughed as Holt’s phone rang in his pocket. “It’s the station. I’ll take it outside.”
He went out on the back deck, leaving me alone with his parents. I wasn’t sure I was ready to be alone with them just yet.
I helped his mother put away all the sandwich fixings and then left Holt’s sandwich on a plate on the counter.
“Thank you,” his mother said, glancing at me.
“For what?”
“I haven’t seen him like this in a very long time.”
“Like what?” I asked, confused.
“Happy.” His dad cut in, eating half the sandwich in one giant bite. Now I knew where Holt got his appetite.
“I have a hard time picturing Holt as anything other than happy.” I scoffed.
“Usually that’s true. But Taylor, she really did a number on him.”
“I met her.”
“Then you know what we’re talking about,” his father said.
I nodded. There was no denying Holt’s ex-wife was a piece of work.
His mother placed her hand on my forearm, saying my name softly and causing me to look up. “Holt told us about everything you’ve been through lately. I just want you to know you are always welcome here, and if there is anything Ed and I can do for you, you just let us know.”
Ah, crap.
There came the emotion again.
I swear I was turning into a big fat baby.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice ridiculously watery.
His mother pulled me into her arms and hugged me. “Welcome to the family, honey.”
“Oh,” I said, pulling away. “Holt and I aren’t that serious.”
Ed just grunted and his mother patted me on the arm like I was confused. Now I saw where Holt got his stubbornness from as well.
Thankfully, the back door slid open and Holt stepped through, still holding his phone and frowning.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“I need to go to the station for a while,” he said regretfully. Then he looked at me. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I told you to go to work this morning.”
He seemed torn. Torn between his job and me. I didn’t like that. I went to his side and grabbed his arm, ushering him farther into the room. “Just go, do what you need to do.”
“I’ll make it fast.”
I groaned. “I’ll be fine.”
“She can stay here with us until you’re done,” Pam said from behind me.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” I argued.
“I know. I want to.”
Holt seemed to like this idea and the clouds in his eyes evaporated. “Stay here. Then I won’t worry about you being alone.”
Three sets of eyes turned to me. Like I was going to argue. Geez, these people were tough!
Holt knew I was beat and he grinned and leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to my lips, right there in front of everyone.
“I’ll be back soon.”
He reached around me and snatched the sandwich. “Thanks, Mom!” he called and headed through the house toward the front door.
An uneasy feeling came over me when he disappeared from sight. Some kind of gut feeling that made panic claw at my throat and my heart start to race. When the front door closed behind him, images of that dark car driving slowly up the street a few minutes ago flashed behind my eyes.
“Holt!” I cried, rushing out of the room after him. I almost tripped, flying through the living room, but managed not to fall, calling his name again.
I heard his parents call my name and rush after me, but I didn’t stop. I had to get to Holt.
I flung open the front door and screamed his name just as he was opening the door to his truck.
“Holt, stop!” I cried, rushing down the steps and onto the sidewalk.
He looked up through the passenger-side window, surprise written on his face. The truck engine turned over as he twisted the key to start it and then he pulled back out to come around the hood and see what I was screeching about.
He never made it that far.
The explosion rocked the ground under my feet and was so loud I thought I might never hear again. I screamed his name and went rushing toward the mess, where pieces of metal and rubber rained from the sky.
I heard his dad and mother yelling, but I didn’t look back. I just kept running, right toward the truck that was now nothing but a massive ball of fire.
“Holt!” I shrieked as the heat from the explosion sucker-punched me in the gut. I doubled over, tears streaking my face and sobs rocking my body.
His truck exploded. He was standing next to his truck… Where is he?
Pushing up, I ran forward again, shaking off his dad’s hands as he tried to pull me back from the flames. I rushed around the side of the truck, still wailing his name.
That’s when I saw him.
He was lying across the street in the neighbor’s front yard. He wasn’t moving.
I took off running, pounding across the street and falling to my knees beside him. I could barely see because my vision was obscured by smoke and tears. I laid my head on his chest, trying to quiet the sobs ripping from my throat as I concentrated on hearing a heartbeat.
When I heard it, I collapsed across his chest with relieved weeping.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I sat up, looking down at him, trying to see his injuries. His dad appeared on his other side, taking Holt by the face and asking him to wake up.
He had soot on his face and blood; there was a lot of blood. He had a cut above his eye, oozing red all down the one side of his face. I picked up his hand to plead with him to wake up and I noticed his knuckles were all skinned and raw.
“He’s breathing,” his dad said, placing his ear right next to his mouth. “Paramedics are on their way.”
I cried silently, rocking back and forth while holding his hand in my lap. In that moment I knew, I knew there was no denying my
feelings for him anymore. I couldn’t pretend we weren’t serious. I couldn’t pretend what I felt was going to go away once my life calmed down.
He was it for me.
There would never be anyone else.
And I was putting him in danger.
You should have let her die. That note had been a warning to him. Not a threat to me. And I made it worse by going back to his house and getting him further involved. There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that the explosion was meant to kill us both and keep me from claiming that money.
He was still bleeding, and I reached up, yanking off my loose tank I wore above a basic white one and then pressing it to the wound, trying to stop the worst of it. “Stay with us,” I told him, brushing a hand over his hair.
His dad was no longer staring at Holt but watching me. “He’s going to be okay,” I whispered. It sounded more like a prayer.
After maybe twenty seconds, I let out a frustrated cry. “Where the hell is the ambulance!”
I heard a vehicle screech to a stop behind us and I turned, ready to yell at them to get over here, but it wasn’t the ambulance.
It was the same dark sedan I saw creeping up the street earlier. I noticed the front end was scratched and banged up a little, like it had run into a shopping cart. Whoever was inside was responsible for all this hurt.
Fury lit through me, sweeping over my limbs like a wildfire in a forest, like a match dropped in a puddle of gasoline. It was one thing to mess with me, but it was something else entirely to mess with the man I was head over heels in love with.
“Stay with him,” I told Holt’s father, motioning for him to apply the pressure to Holt’s wound.
Then I got up and marched toward the person who was climbing out of that car.
21
The first thing I saw step out of the car was a pair of white, popular brand-name sneakers. I probably should have been scared. I mean, this was the guy who torched my home, my motel room, attacked me at the library, and tried to run me down with a car.
But I was too angry to feel afraid.
Holt was lying just feet away, unconscious and bleeding because of this psycho.
He unfolded himself from the passenger side of the car, looking at me through a pair of dark sunglasses. On top of the glasses, he wore a baseball cap pulled low on his head. He just stood there for a few long seconds, watching me like he was a lion and I was his prey.
“Hello, William,” I said, taking a chance that this was indeed the lawyer that had gone AWOL on his way to deliver papers to me.
“Paul never could keep his mouth shut,” the man spat, confirming my suspicions.
I rushed forward, shoving at the open door he stood behind. The door swung shut, knocking him backward into the car. He gave an angry cry as the door squished his legs.
I grabbed the door to swing it open to hit him again, but he kicked it, sending me sprawling backward onto the ground.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” William spat, reaching down and grabbing me by the hair.
From behind, Holt’s father yelled my name.
The lawyer reared back his fist to punch me, but I twisted, letting out a muffled cry as my hair felt like it was being yanked from its follicles. I lunged forward and bit his calf through his pants and he screamed.
“You bitch!” he kicked me, flinging me backward again.
I was so angry I didn’t even feel it. I just scrambled back up, ready to lunge at him again.
“We don’t have time for this,” a voice hissed from inside the car. “Get her and let’s go!”
They wanted to take me? Oh no… I couldn’t get in that car. If I got in that car, I would be as good as dead.
I rushed backward, not turning my back, but then I stopped, not wanting to lead the crazy ass any closer to Holt.
Thoughts of him flooded my brain, and I looked over my shoulder, wondering if he was still breathing. His father was getting up, stepping over his son’s still body and coming to help me.
I didn’t want him to get hurt too.
William took advantage of my distraction and hit me in the side of the head with something hard and cold. Huge black dots swam before my eyes, and then I was falling into my captor’s arms.
Ed screamed my name and rushed to help me, but then he halted, his eyes widening and looking at me with a helpless expression.
“You come any closer to her and I swear to God, I will shoot him and then you.” William waved a gun wildly.
“No!” I cried, my voice sounding more like a pathetic mew. “Hooltttt,” I slurred. “Stay awwaaay.”
Then I was being towed backward, my bare feet dragging the ground. The last thing I remember is hearing the sound of approaching sirens before everything went quiet.
* * *
One good thing about being kidnapped: you didn’t have to worry about where the killer who’d been stalking you for weeks was. Why? Because he already hit you in the head, stuffed you into a car, and was currently driving you to some undisclosed location that probably included a hole in the ground and a dentist’s chair with straps.
Okay, maybe it was time I lay off on the horror movies.
But at least I knew Holt was safe.
Holt!
Thoughts of him and the explosion had me springing up in the back seat of the dark sedan, only to have my head swim as I sank back down against the seat.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” William said from the front seat. “We’re almost there.”
“Sit up and make yourself look presentable!” came a new voice from the driver’s seat.
I couldn’t see who it was because I was laying with my head behind the seat. I tried to sit up again and my stomach rolled in protest. I must have a concussion. Crap, how hard did he hit me?
“How long have I been out?” I asked, thinking again about Holt. I prayed to God the ambulance came and he was safely at the hospital, getting help.
“We’re here,” the driver said again, pulling into a parking lot. I pushed myself up in the seat and looked out the window. Well, at least it wasn’t a hole in the ground.
It was a hotel. The Hampton Inn to be exact.
This was the place I was supposed to meet Mr. Goddard later today.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, reaching up to finger the knot behind my ear. It was very tender and I winced when my fingers probed it. I felt something warm and liquid, and when I pulled my hand away, my fingers were red.
The driver pulled the car into an empty spot near the drive-through awning at the entrance. Then they spun around and pinned me with a nasty glare.
It was the woman from the restaurant this morning.
The one that looked familiar…
I gasped as she pushed back the dark hoodie covering her blond hair. This was the same woman at Target, the one I saw the morning of the hit and run.
“Let me tell you how this is going to go,” she said coldly. “The three of us are going to walk into that hotel, get in an elevator, and pay Mr. Goddard a visit. Then you’re going to go sign those papers saying you refuse the money.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off.
“If you so much as look at someone funny inside the lobby, I swear we will shoot you right there and leave you to die. Then we’ll start shooting anyone else who’s around.”
“Why would you do this?” I whispered, horrified by the thought of them shooting innocent people.
“Because that money is ours!” she yelled. “We were the ones who put up with him! We tolerated his arrogance and answered his every beck and call.”
We? Who the hell was she? Then I realized… “You’re his ex-wife, aren’t you?”
“If only I had put up with him a little bit longer, all that money would have been left to me!”
“He left you a house. I have no doubt its worth millions.”
She snorted like that was pocket change.
Then I glanced at William. “Tony left you money. Mr. Goddar
d told me so.”
“Over twenty years I worked for him. I covered up his indiscretions. I paid off his drug suppliers when he pissed them off. Hell, I even gave him my piss so he would pass his drug tests!”
Torch (Take It Off) Page 19