Body Armor

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Body Armor Page 14

by Alana Matthews


  She tried the door, found it unlocked.

  Should she go inside?

  Part of her wanted to turn and flee, but she knew she really had no choice.

  If anything happens to me, Brody had said, do whatever you have to do to get your mother and Adam out of that place.

  Mustering up her courage, Anna pulled the door open and stepped into the darkness. She was only a few feet inside when she decided to throw caution to the wind.

  “Hello?” she called. “Is anyone here?”

  No response.

  She moved deeper into the lobby, her gaze shifting to a hallway just beyond the reception desk.

  “Hello? This is Anna Sanford, is anyone around?”

  And that’s when she heard it: a muffled cry. Someone calling for help.

  Mom?

  Pulling the gun from the small of her back, Anna sucked in a breath, swept past the reception desk and headed down that hallway.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Brody’s shoulder was leaking.

  Thanks to the refrigerated air, the initial pain had subsided somewhat, giving way to numbness, but he knew that eventually that would wear off and the pain would return full force.

  For the moment, however, he could deal with it.

  The problem was the blood.

  Frank’s shot had gone straight through his shoulder, which was leaking profusely. He was trailing blood behind him—a trail that would be hard to miss in this lighted room. He knew he’d made a mistake coming in here.

  He clamped a hand to his shoulder, trying to control the flow, but it wasn’t doing him much good. Worse yet, he was starting to weaken from the loss of all that fluid.

  He had no idea where Frank was at this point, and being weaponless didn’t give him great comfort. He stood behind the carcass of a fairly large steer, one of at least a hundred that hung from meat hooks in this massive room.

  He kept his gaze on the doorway, knowing that sooner or later, Frank would walk through it.

  It didn’t take long for his prediction to come true.

  Frank was carrying Wilson’s assault rifle now, keeping it tucked close to his body.

  “I know you’re in here, Carpenter. You’re leaking oil like a rusty old Buick.” His gaze went to the floor, scanning it for signs of blood. “We both know how this is gonna end, so you might as well come out and get it over with.”

  Brody didn’t move.

  “I can’t wait to see the look on Anna’s face when she realizes you betrayed her again.” He laughed. “And the sex. Can’t wait for that, either. Comfort sex is the best, isn’t it? Especially when you’ve got a woman like Anna in your bed.”

  Brody knew that Frank was trying get a reaction out of him. Keeping his hand clamped on his shoulder, he stepped backward, crossing to the protection of another carcass. He glanced at the floor and didn’t see blood this time.

  “Woman really knows how to please a man, wouldn’t you say? We had us a whole lot of fun after you ran away, and she took me places I’ve never been before.”

  He was working his way toward Brody, following that trail of blood. Brody stepped sideways now, moving on to yet another carcass.

  “There’s no question she’ll be devastated after tonight,” Frank said. “But I’m at my best when a woman is vulnerable. And don’t you worry. I’ll make her forget about you this time.”

  ANNA FLEW DOWN THE hallway.

  “Mom?” she shouted. “Is that you?”

  She heard the muffled cries again and turned a corner, spotting a closed door at the end of another short hallway. The sounds came from behind it.

  She rushed to the door, tried the knob, found it locked. Pounded her fists on the wood.

  “Mom? Are you in there? Is Adam with you?”

  More muffled cries. She couldn’t make them out, but she recognized her mother’s voice.

  Stepping back, she brought a foot up high and kicked at the door, right near the knob. It buckled but didn’t crack.

  She tried again, and then again, and the wood finally began to splinter. After she gave it three more solid kicks, the door finally broke loose and swung open.

  Mom and Adam were bound and gagged, tied to a chair. Both of them were wearing blindfolds.

  Anna rushed to them, ripping at the bonds, pulling away the blindfolds, and when she had them free, she grabbed Adam and hugged him with everything she had.

  “Oh my God, baby, are you all right?”

  Adam was crying now. She could tell that he was terrified. But he nodded in answer to her question. “I’m okay, Mommy.”

  She turned to her mother. “What about you?”

  “I’m a little shook up,” Sylvia said. “But I’m fine. Is Brody with you?”

  Anna nodded. “Frank, too. They’re somewhere inside. But I need to get you two out of here. Get you to my car.”

  Sylvia returned the nod and they headed out the door.

  MATSON HAD FINALLY stopped talking. Probably figured he’d get the job done easier if he wasn’t constantly telegraphing his position.

  The good news: Brody was still alive.

  The bad news: he was losing energy fast, and he had no idea where in this sea of beef Frank might be.

  He found out soon enough.

  Deciding it was time to move again, he circled backward and crossed toward another slab of beef. But the moment he reached it, it suddenly exploded, a hail of bullets shredding it to pieces.

  Narrowly missing being hit, Brody dove to safety, scrambling to a corner of the room. He crouched there, renewing his grip on his shoulder, his strength draining with every breath he took.

  As he looked at the floor again, he realized he’d left another trail of blood. And just beyond the row of carcasses in front of him, was Frank—

  —headed in his direction.

  ANNA WAS HUSTLING MOM and Adam into the front seat when she heard the gunshots.

  She jerked her head toward the building.

  Brody and Frank. One of them was in trouble. Maybe both.

  “Lock yourself in,” she said to Sylvia. “And if I’m not back here in five minutes, get Adam out of here and call the sheriff.”

  Sylvia looked stricken. “What are you going to do?”

  Anna pulled the pistol from her waistband again. “Whatever I have to.”

  “I’VE GOTTA ADMIT I’M a little disappointed, Carpenter.” Frank was moving toward Brody, the assault rifle aimed at his chest. “I was expecting a little more fight out of you.”

  Brody was trapped in the corner. Every syllable he uttered was an effort for him. “She’ll never…believe you, Frank.”

  “Oh, she’ll believe me. I’m pretty convincing when I’m motivated.”

  “The only thing motivating you…is money.”

  “What—you don’t think I’m capable of loving someone?”

  “You’re a sociopath,” Brody said, feeling his adrenaline rise. “You don’t even know what love is. Owen used to be your brother-in-law. He meant everything to the woman you claim to care about, but did you feel anything when you shot him?”

  Matson shrugged. “I was a little annoyed he wouldn’t tell me what I wanted to know.”

  “That just proves my point. You’re incapable of emotion. And I’m betting that’s why Anna divorced you. She could see right through the facade. Imagine what’ll happen when she takes a deeper look and sees your black heart.”

  Matson frowned at him now. “You got a lot to say for a dead man.” His eyes narrowed. “I think it’s time we got this over with. Your buddy Owen is waiting for you in the after—”

  “Frank?”

  Matson flinched and took a step backward. Anna stood at the far end of the row of carcasses, staring at Frank in disbelief.

  Frank did his best to cover, gesturing to Brody. “It’s him, babe. He’s the one who set this all up. He tried to jump me in the hallway.”

  Anna wasn’t buying it. It was obvious by her expression that she’d heard more th
an enough to know that he was lying. She brought the pistol up and pointed it at him.

  “I can’t believe you killed Owen.” She shoved her free hand into her pocket, pulled out the security tag Brody had given her. She held it up. “And for this? This is worth that much to you?”

  “I did it for us, babe. You and me. Owen could’ve had part of it, too, but he got stupid.”

  “So you shot him.”

  “We’re gonna be rich, Anna. Don’t you get that? You won’t have to slog in that shop every day, trying to get ahead. We can do whatever we want. Go wherever we want to.”

  Anna’s face hardened. “I wouldn’t cross the street with you,” she told him then dropped the RFID tag to the floor and raised her foot over it. “And you can kiss that money goodbye.”

  As she brought the foot down, Frank’s face filled with panic.

  “No!” he shouted and swung the assault rifle toward her, fingering the trigger.

  In the split second before Frank fired, Brody used every last ounce of strength he had and sprang from the corner, grabbing Frank’s legs.

  They went down hard and the assault rifle chattered wildly, sending bullets into the air. Then Brody was on top of him, pummeling Frank’s face, his chest, hammering him over and over again, channeling his rage into the effort, until Frank was out cold.

  Then Brody staggered to his feet, and Anna rushed to him, pulling him into her arms, hugging him, kissing him, murmuring in his ear.

  “I love you, Brody. I’ll always love you. And I forgive you for everything. Everything.”

  Pain shot through Brody’s shoulder, and he knew he was leaking blood all over her. But he didn’t care.

  He was back in the arms of the woman he loved.

  And that was all that mattered.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Frank Matson refused to confess to his crimes, but it didn’t make a difference. It turned out that Joe Wilson had survived the gunshots in the hallway and was all too happy to cooperate in exchange for a chance at parole.

  Frank, however, would never get that chance. The D.A. was predicting multiple life sentences, and nobody involved in the case wanted to take odds against her.

  On Christmas Eve, Anna found herself caught in the whirlwind of the investigation, answering questions, looking at photographs. She’d been asked to identify the two men in the van—all part of the evidence against Frank—and she’d had no trouble picking them out of a photo array.

  Brody spent Christmas Eve, and several days after, in the hospital, getting his wounds stitched up and telling his version of events.

  A lot of the sheriff’s office brass came to see him, and one of them even mentioned the possibility of Brody going back to his old job.

  “You got a lousy deal, Carpenter. Maybe we can make up for that. Put you where you belong—on the homicide squad.”

  Brody didn’t make any commitments. He told Anna that he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to the department, and she didn’t really blame him.

  Too much history there. For both of them.

  She didn’t care what he did with his life, as long as he stayed with her here in Cedarwood and got to know his son.

  Adam had come through this trauma like a champ. He hadn’t even complained when Anna told him they were going to delay Christmas a bit, waiting for Brody to get out of the hospital. She hadn’t told him that Brody was his father, yet. Figured that was too much, too soon.

  But the time would come, and she knew that Adam would be thrilled by the news.

  THEY CELEBRATED Christmas on New Year’s Day.

  This seemed appropriate to Anna. The beginning of a new year and a new life. They all still had an empty spot in their hearts for Owen, but they knew he was with them in spirit and always would be.

  As they sat by the tree, exchanging gifts—Mom, Adam, Brody and Anna—Brody, still wearing a sling, handed a box to Adam, the wrapping paper covered with multicolored dinosaurs.

  “Is this mine?” Adam asked.

  “Sure is,” Brody said then tousled his son’s head. “A little something to make up for breaking the wheels on your sheriff’s car.”

  Adam grinned, unceremoniously ripping the wrapping paper free. When he got the box open, he paused and sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide with surprise and excitement.

  Then he dove in, pulling out a toy motorcycle.

  A black Harley-Davidson.

  Anna’s heart filled with joy as she watched him pull the motorcycle to his chest then jump into Brody’s arms, giving him a thankful hug.

  She knew that everything would be all right from here on out. That the fantasy she’d had so many years ago was finally coming true.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-7508-3

  BODY ARMOR

  Copyright © 2010 by Alana Matthews

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  For questions and comments about the quality of this book please contact us at [email protected].

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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