Frustrated, Patrick gritted his teeth a moment before he noticed deep furrowed tire tracks veering off to the left. Someone had turned down the service track that served as a repair road for a string of high-tension power lines. Rounding the bend, he traveled down the overgrown dirt path, which was heavily rutted, making the sedan’s undercarriage bottom out on every pothole in the road. He’d probably owe hospital security a new vehicle after this escapade.
Up ahead he saw a clearing, and with a squint he made out the bed of red pickup. His gut told him it was worth taking a look. He dialed Vance and gave him his location, and then pulled to the side of the road a distance from the clearing and got out. Hopefully, whoever that truck belonged to hadn’t heard him.
Several minutes later, Vance’s car rolled to a stop behind him. Jumping out, Vance tossed him a walkie-talkie. Patrick caught it with his good hand. “Thanks.” He clipped it on his belt.
Vance slapped a pistol in his hand. “And you might be needing this. Loaded and ready.”
Patrick molded his fingers around the weapon. So was he.
Patrick and Vance took off in a run and sprinted the final length of the road. Patrick gritted his teeth against the bite of pain as his arm, still in a sling, bounced against his chest.
As they entered the clearing, he saw there were two vehicles. One was Tony’s truck. The red pickup he didn’t recognize.
They halted. “Police! Step out where we can see you, hands raised,” Vance shouted.
No reply.
Vance gestured for them to move in. They got halfway through the field when they noticed there was a man down. And it was Tony Hill.
Patrick rushed over to him. He was still alive, but bleeding from the gut.
He could hear Vance over his shoulder alerting the dispatcher, calling for a backup.
Squatting on his heels, Patrick looked into Tony’s eyes. “Where’s Amber?” he demanded. “Who has her?”
Tony gasped, searching for breath, his body shivering.
Patrick rubbed his shoulder. “Tony, I need you to hang in there. Can you tell me where Amber is?”
Tony swallowed hard, his gaze hollow. “Things got out of hand. I never wanted Amber hurt. Please believe me, Patrick. I…I had no choice,” he managed to admit through labored breaths.
Patrick’s blood began to pump harder, his heart rate picking up as he took in Tony’s pallid complexion, his shallow breaths. He could see Tony was fading. He wasn’t going to last long. And only he knew where Amber was, or if she was even still alive.
“Vance, we need an ambulance. Now! And I need your coat!”
“They’re on the way,” Vance grunted, rolling a log toward him. Patrick propped it under Tony’s legs.
After Vance shed his jacket, Patrick scrunched it up and pressed it into Tony’s gut, trying to slow the bleeding, trying to buy time.
“Tony, where is Amber?” Patrick asked a second time. “And who’s she with? Is it Randall?”
“She ran,” he choked out. “Randall…went after her.”
Patrick exchanged an anxious glance with Vance.
Vance nodded and got on the radio requesting an ETA on backup and medics. Being in the boonies wasn’t in their favor.
“Which way, Tony? Which direction did they head?”
Tony tried to say more, his lips moving slowly between shallow breaths. Patrick leaned closer to hear him. “What is it?”
This time when he opened his mouth, blood dribbled out. He gasped one last time, and then the shivering stopped.
Patrick felt for a pulse. The man was dead.
A grim feeling stabbed at him. Amber was somewhere in these woods, but where?
He needed to find her.
He jumped up, ignoring the electrified pain shooting through his shoulder. “Let’s separate and search for Amber,” he shouted at Vance.
“We have an ETA of ten minutes.” Vance was right behind him. “With your injury, it might be better if we stick together.”
Ten minutes was too long. “I’m good.” Patrick confirmed with a nod. “I’m heading east.” They needed to move quickly, to cover as much territory as possible.
“I’ll go west, then. Let’s hustle.” Vance darted out of sight to the left, and Patrick drove in through the trees to the right. Bracing his injured arm with his other, pistol in hand, he bolted up a small ridge. He paused to take a breath, listening, his eyes searching. He scanned the trees, the layers of the forest.
He heard leaves rustling. Groaning trees. The insistent hum of insects. Besides a skittering squirrel, nothing moved, and he saw no suspicious shadows. Nothing.
He tucked the gun into his waistband and grabbed the walkie-talkie. “Vance, what do you see?”
In response he heard static, then… “Nothing so far. You?”
“Same. Let’s keep moving.” Patrick clipped the radio to his belt. He glanced to his left and caught a metallic glint along the forest floor.
He went to investigate. Squatting, he picked up a silver hair clasp. Amber’s hair clasp.
A high-pitched male shout punctuated his discovery. Angry. Vile. It had to be Randall.
Patrick whipped out his gun and started moving again, hurtling down the small hill. He was panting more than he liked, but the adrenaline pumping like fire through his veins kept him going.
His anger was amped with a heated hunger for Amber’s assailant, and nothing short of stopping that creep was going to satisfy it.
*
Amber’s pursuer was back, amped up and getting impatient. Did Randall really think his belligerent bellowing would coax her into surrendering?
She swallowed hard and lifted her eyes just enough to see over the tall weeds, peering once again through the brush. She made out Randall’s serious expression as he stood in the clearing, just steps from her. He was concentrating, mumbling under his breath, his nose in the air like a hunting dog trying to catch a scent.
Gritting her teeth, she ran her hands faster, harder, against the rugged tree trunk. The tape was weakening, starting to shred. She needed to get free. It was her only hope to make it in these woods.
Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. The loud whooshing sound of her blood almost drowned out Randall’s heavy footsteps as he abruptly turned and started to move again. Hopefully, he had given up and was leaving.
Please. Please. She wiggled and tugged at her hands, and the tape started to tear through. She was almost free. Thank You, Lord! She started again, working the tape against the broken branch stub. Up and down, sawing vigorously, weakening the integrity. But as the tape finally split apart, the ragged piece of bark caught her wrist, ripping into her flesh.
Razor-sharp pain shot up her arm, burning like fire. She swallowed hard, determined to internalize the pain, but in spite of herself, she let out a muffled shriek.
Randall’s retreating steps halted. Before she could jump to her feet and take off in a run, he pivoted on his heel and came crashing through the brush, a maniacal look in his eye. The corner of his mouth hiked up in a lopsided grin as he laid eyes on her.
She swallowed, prayers flying heavenward, as she found herself staring into the barrel of his gun.
NINETEEN
As Patrick approached the clearing, anger twisted in his gut when he saw that Randall, with his gun drawn, had Amber by the arm, and was half dragging her across the open meadow. The cold determination on Randall’s face said he was ready to get the job done.
Patrick turned his gaze on Amber. Her expression was riddled with fear as she stumbled along, trying to keep up with Randall’s harried strides. He also saw remnants of duct tape clinging from her wrists. A combination of rage and disgust welled up in his chest.
Jaw clenched, Patrick sucked down his anger and concentrated on the job at hand. He couldn’t afford to let emotion rule. It would only be an invitation to disaster. He started down a steep embankment, moving quickly but silently while scanning the area for any hint of concealed danger. With all the trees and
vegetation it was easy to remain out of sight. The element of surprise would be on his side.
He needed to get into position behind Randall. As he drew closer he could hear Randall’s angry words, feel the tension in the air.
“Keep moving!” Randall shoved Amber forward toward the woods. “It’s time to take a little swim. The lake should be nice this time of year.”
He heard a whimper from Amber. She was no doubt terrified at what was happening and what was yet to come. Patrick tried to block the emotion threatening to burst loose in him. Sweat ran down his face, tasting salty as it ran over his lips. He’d been dropped in some of the deadliest war zones in the world and had had no problem keeping his cool no matter the stimuli. Not the case today.
Patrick ducked under low-hanging branches, slipping closer into position. He checked the area one last time, noting with relief that Randall seemed to be acting alone. A surge of excruciating pain shot through the gash in his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he ignored it. He’d been trained to push past pain and get the job done. He slipped out of the camouflage of the trees, treading softly into position behind Randall.
Three steps. Four. On the fifth… “Let her go,” Patrick said, keeping his voice even, his gun perfectly steady and trained on Randall.
Randall jerked around, holding Amber tightly against him, his gun to her head. His eyes grew wide, then twinkled as they roamed over Patrick’s injured arm. “Looking a bit mangled there, Wiley,” Randall said with a laugh that was more frigid than polar ice. “And since when did I start taking orders from you?”
“Since right about now.” Patrick took a small step toward him. “Since I have the ability to blow you away from right where I stand.”
Randall cocked his gun with a click and pressed it harder against Amber’s temple. “And the moment you shoot, bang, Amber’s dead. It’s called the domino effect.”
Turbulent green eyes stared back at him, wide with fear, pleading for help. She trembled so hard that the tattered sleeves of her torn jacket shook, and Patrick’s blood ran cold.
Battling to hold on to his composure, Patrick struggled to slow his heart rate and eased a step closer. “And if you kill her, Becker, you’ll die on the spot, you know that, so do us both a favor and lower your weapon.” Patrick held his gun to his side as a sign of good faith.
Randall didn’t budge.
“Come on, Randall, we’re at an impasse here. If you want to live, let’s make a deal. Let Amber go and I’ll do whatever you want.”
He could see the veins in Randall’s neck bunching as he thought about it. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “Drop your gun and I’ll let her go.” The muscles in Randall’s arms visibly tensed as he tightened his grip around Amber’s waist.
Patrick took a deep breath. Randall wasn’t very convincing, and Patrick was running out of patience. Being reasonable didn’t seem possible here.
“That’s what I thought.” Randall snorted. “See, already I don’t trust you.”
Ditto. Patrick needed a distraction, needed an opportunity to move in without getting Amber hurt. As he lifted a prayer, he cut a glance Amber’s way, made eye contact. She blinked twice, as if signaling him that she had read his mind.
He tracked the bead of sweat trickling from her hairline. The rapid rise and fall of her chest. She was ready. He hoped.
“Okay.” Patrick shifted his gaze to Randall. “We need to come up with a compromise. I’m open to suggestions.”
A smirked slipped across Randall’s face, and Amber sucked in a sharp gasp as he forced the gun harder against her temple. “Let me walk out of here with Amber. Once I get a safe distance away, I’ll release her.”
Yeah, right. Randall was even crazier than he thought. Irritation danced across Patrick’s nerve endings. Mind reeling, he grappled for a plan. And judging by the predatory gleam in Randall’s eyes, he was doing the same.
The radio clipped to his belt crackled as a coarse, staticky voice broke the stalemate. “Wiley, do you copy?”
Startled by the sound, Randall jerked. His grip on Amber suddenly went slack, and she flung herself out of his grasp.
“No, you don’t!” Randall was as quick as a striking snake as he launched after her and latched on to her arm.
As Amber’s scream penetrated the air, Patrick broke into a run and threw all his weight up against Randall.
With a scream, Randall staggered back several feet and Patrick wheeled around, teeth clenched, looking for the weapon he’d just lost.
“Got you!” A laugh burst from Randall’s throat as he swung his pistol into position.
A shot erupted from the barrel, and Patrick lurched to the side, the bullet blasting past the left side of his head.
Screams of terror rang out from Amber. Patrick didn’t give Randall a chance to fire again. He jumped forward with a quick roundhouse kick, sending Randall’s gun flying.
Randall retaliated with a spinning jump kick that Patrick blocked, then came at him with a flurry of high-speed punches.
Blocking and ducking, he felt adrenaline thrash through his body like lightning. Using his uninjured arm, he swung a hook punch at Randall’s head.
Randall jumped out of the way. “I hope you like dirt! Because I plan to grind your face into it!” Then with a loud “Kiai!” he snapped a kick toward Patrick’s head.
“Nope, sure don’t.” Patrick ducked his head and spun forward with a jumping front kick of his own that slammed against Randall’s ribs.
Randall spun around and lunged at him with a right-left combination that landed a sharp blow to Patrick’s head and had him stumbling into the tree line. Pivoting quickly, he barely missed another roundhouse kick to the head.
Now Patrick was done playing. He spun forward with a reverse side kick and slammed his boot against Randall’s head, sending his adversary crashing onto his back.
Chest heaving, Randall flipped back to his feet and snapped into a fighting stance. “Wiley! You’re mine!”
Winded and feeling dizzy, Patrick clenched his teeth against the torturous pain in his shoulder. Dismissing it, he focused on his opponent with a single goal in mind—take him down and get Amber out of there.
Before that thought fully processed, Randall pounced forward and came at him with a series of kicks. Patrick spun, bobbed and weaved, pivoted and ducked. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Amber swoop up his pistol and try to aim. Her hands shook wildly. His already galloping heart rate doubled. Being brave was great, but now she was dangerous. One misfire could do him in, and then Randall would easily overtake her.
The distraction cost Patrick as the tip of Randall’s boot caught him in the shoulder. Pain shot through every nerve ending, followed by a shudder that rocked his whole body. Anger competed with adrenaline as Patrick shielded Randall’s next kick and slammed a palm-heel strike against his chest, sending Randall skidding back into a tree.
With the last of his energy, Patrick rushed to Amber, grabbed the pistol from her. He pulled her against him and trained the gun on Randall. “You doing okay?” he whispered against the top of her head.
Nodding, Amber clung to him.
In the distance he saw police officers break through the tree line, Vance in the lead. The cavalry had finally arrived.
Better late than never. Patrick eyed Randall, who was struggling to breathe, slumped against the tree. He was trying to slow down his own breath. If Randall knew what was good for him, he’d better not budge. Patrick’s patience had seriously run dry.
As Amber settled more firmly against him, a lump rose in Patrick’s throat. The thought that he could have lost her today sent chills up his spine.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered to her. “I’ve never been so afraid.”
“Me, either,” she said, and let out a hoarse sob.
“I realized something today.” He brushed a kiss on the top of her head.
“What’s that?” There was a slight tremor in her voice.
“That I nev
er want to lose you again.”
Amber didn’t move, didn’t respond.
“God put you back in my life, Amber. And I don’t think it was just to set your past straight and bring this creep to justice.” He eyed Randall still working to breathe as Vance slapped on his cuffs.
She stayed silent but nestled closer to him, and his heart swelled to almost bursting as he waited for her to respond. Surely she couldn’t deny that they were meant for each other.
Finally, she drew in a deep breath. “I want to believe that, Patrick. But can you forgive me for all the pain I caused you?”
“I already have,” he said. “I love you, Amber.”
After a moment, she raised her eyes to his. “I love you, too, Patrick,” Amber whispered through her tears. “I never stopped loving you.”
Oh, yeah. He smiled. Nothing had ever sounded better to him.
EPILOGUE
One week later
After all the months of planning, the Silence No More fund-raiser had finally arrived.
Standing beneath the glimmering reception hall chandeliers, overlooking a myriad of guests, Amber spoke candidly about her personal experience, sharing the ordeal she’d gone through, wanting other victims to know they were not alone and that help was available.
“It is time to speak out and raise awareness about the issue of abuse and violence against women. A crime that strikes one in three women, many of whom continue to live in the shadows, feeling the shame and guilt that victims of abuse feel. A place I’ve been myself.”
Amber paused, tears welling in her eyes. “I want to encourage all victims to become survivors. It’s time to break the silence, the first step in healing.”
The audience rose, giving Amber a standing ovation at the completion of her speech. She remembered a time when talking about the past would have been impossible. God’s grace was incredible.
Standing in the back of the reception hall, Amber helped Kim match the list of silent auction winners with gift baskets they’d won as the guests were enjoying dessert. The evening had just about come to an end, and things couldn’t have gone better.
Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection DetailHidden AgendaBroken Silence Page 57