by Misha Crews
The tall man looked at the short one, waiting. The short one struck.
He reached down and pinched the woman's nose shut. Her mouth opened automatically, and her eyes opened at the same moment, wild and full of fear. The gag was stuffed in her mouth, muffling the screams which they heard in her throat. Her feet were bound, then her hands. She thrashed wildly, but to no avail.
The short man – the stronger of the two, lifted her onto his shoulder, while the tall man raised the window. But the shorter man was tiring. He shifted the woman a little, re-settling her on his shoulder, and in that moment, her feet, kicking like a mermaid's tail, made contact with a vase on the dresser. It hit the floor with a shattering crash.
"Blake!" A man's voice roared through the house, and bare feet pounded hard on the floor. Before they knew it, the man who had been sleeping on the sofa was in the room, launching himself across the small space.
They clung to their thrashing package as they tried to fight him off. The short man reached for his gun, but the tall man got in his way, blocking his shot as he tried to hold back their unexpected attacker.
Barking erupted from the next bedroom, and they knew this job was blown. Rule number one in any job: don't get caught. Without a word between them, the men dropped the woman to the floor. In a flash they were out the window and gone.
By this time, Blake's parents had tumbled into the room, the dog close on their heels. Elaine rushed to her daughter, pulling the blanket from her head, untying the ropes around her hands and feet.
Caleb dove through the window. Sharp gravel dug into his bare feet as he chased the men around the house and out onto the cul-de-sac. Gunshots exploded into the air. He changed course and dove for the bushes by the side of the road. When raised his head and lifted his weapon, trying to get a line on where they were, he was rewarded by a flash of muzzle fire, and he took aim, firing twice in return.
Two more shots rang out, then he heard yelling. Doors slammed and gravel scattered. Caleb broke cover and ran, hoping for a glimpse of the vehicle, the license plate if he were extremely lucky. But by the time he rounded the corner of the road, all that was left was the deep grooves they'd left in the gravel when they'd sped away. He turned and limped painfully back to the cabin, cursing furiously into the cold night air.
Chapter Twenty
How could he have been so careless? Caleb stalked through the house, checking all the rooms and closets, double-checking the locks – in short, doing all the things he should have done before they went to bed. Goddamn it! He clenched his fists as he walked the perimeter for the third time. He had been so concerned about facilitating the reunion between Blake and her family that he'd become unforgivably casual about security. Steve was right, as usual. Caleb was way too emotionally involved, here, and it had almost gotten Blake killed.
Cold anger seized hold of him as he remembered her, cocooned and being carted away by those two bastards, as if she were nothing more than an old carpet. When he'd returned to the house after chasing away the would-be kidnappers, Blake had been in the living room, clutching Sampson to her chest like a safety blanket. There were tears on her cheeks and her eyes were wide with fright. But the first thing she'd said when she'd seen him was, "I'm all right. It's not your fault."
Her voice had been surprisingly calm and steady as she reassured him, but her words had only stoked the fires of his guilt. Her parents said nothing, which was both a blessing and a condemnation. Elaine held Blake in both arms, and William talked grimly on the phone to the police.
It didn't take long for the local authorities to arrive. The flashing lights of red and blue added a feeling of unreality for those who were inside the house. Things like this happened in the movies, right? Not to ordinary people. Not to them.
William and Elaine greeted Sheriff Ted Ogden by his first name. Caleb's heart dropped another notch when he realized that the sheriff was also an ex-military man, like William and himself. Ogden would know, better than any civilian, how badly Caleb had failed in his attempted protection.
Caleb let Blake and her parents explain the situation, fading into the background while they said their piece. He moved restlessly around the room, poking the fire that William had built, peering out the windows. When the sheriff asked him to sit down and tell his part, he repeated the story that he'd already told to the Sera family: he was in town to see an old friend, he'd met Blake on the beach, they'd become involved, and as the events in her life had unfolded in a dangerous direction, he'd found himself here.
The sheriff scratched his grizzled chin and consulted his notes. Since his arrival, his manner had been casual, unworried, as if they'd been discussing nothing more serious than some local boys playing mailbox baseball on a summer night. But Caleb didn't let the sheriff's laid-back attitude fool him. Anyone with a half-ounce of sense could see that the lawman was sharp as a knife and just as dangerous to anyone who caused trouble in his jurisdiction. "So you don't know this Rube Jefferies character personally?"
"No."
"Never met him?"
"No."
Ogden's light blue eyes rested calmly on Caleb's face. "And is there any particular reason that you undertook to see to Miss Sera's safety yourself, rather than contacting the police?"
Caleb hesitated. If ever there was an opportunity to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but, this was it. Ted Ogden seemed like a trustworthy man, but Caleb was reluctant to say more than he already had. Not until he talked to Steve. "We weren't exactly sure that the police could help us," he said truthfully.
The sheriff nodded his understanding. "Like as not, they'd have taken her statement and then sent her on her way. Until a crime's been committed, there's not much they can do."
"Well, a crime's sure as hell been committed now, Ted." Elaine spoke up sharply from the kitchen doorway, where she and William were listening as Caleb gave his statement. Blake had been buffered between them, positioned deliberately that way by her parents, as if whatever danger she was in would have to go through them before it could get to her. Blake's eyes were dark, her face numb and pinched. Elaine groped for her daughter's hand as she spit out her next words. "Attempted kidnapping is still illegal isn't it?"
"That it is." Ogden's face as he looked at Elaine was sympathetic but noncommittal. "Unfortunately we don't have a lot to go on in terms of investigation at this point. No description of the perpetrators, no license plate, no fingerprints, no legible tire tracks – "
"No help, no use, no escape!" Elaine's voice cracked with the fury of her frustration. "These people break into our house, bundle my daughter into a quilt and try to make off with her, and there's nothing you can do about it?"
"I wouldn't say 'nothing.' What I am going to do is call a friend of mine who works for the FBI. I'm sure they've got a file on Rube Jeffries that's as long as my arm and then some. I'm going to find out the name of the agent who's in charge of the investigation, tell him what happened and see if he has any idea who might have pulled this little stunt here tonight. Guys like Rube tend to hire the same operators again and again, so there's a good chance that our two men are listed somewhere in his known associates."
"You're saying the FBI will be investigating this themselves?" William asked.
"If they don't jump on this like starving men on a steak, I'll be much surprised." The sheriff flipped his notebook closed decisively, bringing the interview officially to an end. "Feel better, folks?"
"No."
Caleb jumped as the word was said, afraid that maybe he'd voiced his innermost thoughts out loud. But it was Blake who had spoken. Her eyes traveled wanly around the room, into each of the four concerned pairs of eyes looking back at her. "I don't feel better at all."
She turned, breaking free from her parents' protective maneuvering and headed for the bedroom where she'd been sleeping peacefully an hour before. Elaine started to follow her, but William stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. Elaine resisted the restraint, then gave in when she saw W
illiam looking at Caleb, who had risen to his feet. William nodded to Caleb, giving him the okay to go after his daughter.
Caleb shot William a grateful glance as he brushed passed by them. Then, heart in his throat, he went to find the woman he loved.
Chapter Twenty-One
He found her in the back bedroom, stuffing clothes furiously into her duffel. He leaned against the door jam and affected a casual attitude. "For what it's worth," he said, "I don't feel much better, either."
Blake didn't stop packing. "I'm not going to take this lying down. I'm going back to LA, I'm going to find Rube, and I'm going to – to – beat the hell out of him with my biggest pair of chunky boots!"
"Stiletto heels might be more affective in this situation."
She threw him a look that said she was not amused.
He put up his hands defensively. "I'm just saying, is all. The right tool for the right job has always been my motto."
Blake plopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling with livid intensity. "First I drag you into this, and now my parents. It has to stop."
Caleb sat on the opposite bed, facing her. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands loosely together. More than anything, he wanted to pull her into his arms, to promise her that everything was going to be all right. But he knew she'd had enough of that. She was tired of platitudes; she wanted to fight, she wanted to end this. He had to tread lightly here or risk losing her altogether.
"I think you should come home with me to Iowa," he said. Her lips parted in a stubborn, instant-argument position, and he held up a hand to quiet her before she spoke. "Now just hold on a minute and let me talk."
She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to say what he had to say. "Come home with me," he repeated. "Chances are good that Rube's goons won't follow you all the way to Iowa. If what Greg said is true, then Rube is desperate to get out of the country. Desperate men make mistakes. Stay with me. Give the authorities some time to do their job and catch him."
"I don't want to give anyone time to do anything." Blake pressed her lips together as if to calm herself. When she looked at him, it was with steady, flat certainty. "I'm going back to LA, and I'm going to face this. No matter what the consequences may be."
"Consequences?" Caleb was on his feet before he knew it. Anger surged through him like a tidal wave, sweeping away any thoughts of gentleness or delicacy. "The consequences are going to be death, princess, and don't you think otherwise! These people are killers, Blake! They end people's lives. Don't you get that?"
She jumped up to face him, standing nose to nose. "Don't you take that tone with me! I was the one being hauled out a window an hour ago, remember?"
Hot guilt rushed forward, galvanizing Caleb's anger. He swung around and smacked the wall with the flat of his hand. "Goddamn it! I swear to God, I will kidnap you and take you to Canada if I have to! This is not some movie, you know. This is real life. And in real life, people run when their lives are in danger!"
"I've been running as long as I can remember! I ran away from home to go to Paris. I ran from Paris to go back home. Then I ran away from home again and into Rube's world. And now I'm supposed to run from Rube…where? To Iowa?" She dropped back onto the bed, as if the muscles in her legs had given way. As if she had no more strength left. "I can't run anymore. I have to learn to stand." She slumped forward and her head fell into her hands. "For once in my life, I have to stand up."
Caleb wanted to yell. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to force her to listen, to make her understand, to throw her over his shoulder and carry her away to safety. But he did none of those things. Instead, he just stood and looked.
The woman sitting before him was not the same sparkling creature he'd seen on the beach two weeks ago. That woman had been all gloss, all slick veneer. This person was raw, and bleeding, very nearly stripped down to the bare core that was the human soul. The spark that had first caught his eye was still there, but it was naked now, burning hotter than ever for all her desperation. And although Blake was sagging, although her hands trembled and her voice shook, she was not yet beaten.
And if he could do anything about it, she never would be.
"You're not going back alone," he said at length.
She lifted her head. Her eyes were watery but gleaming with strength. "Well you're not coming with me. I'm not going to put you in harm's way again."
"There's no argument you can make that will convince me to let you go back there without me. If you try to run away from me, I'll just follow you." He allowed a small smile to creep over his lips. "I know where you're headed, after all."
"Oh really? And just where is that?" Her tearful smile matched his.
"Where we're going: back to the beach house. Back to where it all began."
It was a long ride home. Despite the fact that they took the interstate instead of the Coastal Highway, and even despite the lack of traffic, it seemed to take twice as long to get into to Malibu as it had to get to out of it.
It was mid-morning when they reached the beach house. The sun had firmly established itself in the pale blue sky by that time, and it was shining much too brightly for their tired eyes to enjoy. Their minds were nearly dead with lack of sleep, bodies leaden and aching from the physical strain of sitting on the bike. Caleb had had the worst of it, and guilt stabbed Blake hotly as she watched him dismount with uncharacteristic clumsiness, heavily favoring his bad knee as he grabbed their bags from the rack in back and started for the front door. He looked like he needed a week at a spa, with beautiful girls to massage him daily. For herself, Blake wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a long sleep, but she doubted that either one of them would get what they needed this morning.
Blake's parents had been none too happy about her riding back to Malibu with no one to protect her but Caleb. They hadn't realized yet that complete protection was no longer possible. If Rube really wanted her dead, nothing and no one was going to stop him. She'd known him long enough to recognize that fact. The best she could do now was to make sure that Caleb didn't get caught in the crossfire.
It was strange to open the door to the beach house, to walk into that space that she had known and loved so well for so many years. The place still smelled the same, still had the feeling of home and comfort and safety. But it was no longer her home, and it certainly was no longer safe.
"You go on and grab a shower while I put the coffee on," Caleb said as he dropped their bags by the stairs. "We need to figure out what our next move is going to be."
Blake came up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. She breathed deep, filling her nostrils with the good smell of him, solid and reassuring. "How about I start the coffee while you grab a shower," she suggested. "I think you've earned first dibs on the hot water."
He turned in her embrace and locked his arms around her back, kissing her deeply. "You know, we could always share the shower. We'd be conserving water, after all."
Blake looked up into his face. She could not stop marveling that he would still want to be with her after all the trouble she had put him through. She smiled. "Well, I do have strong feelings about water conservation…."
"Sorry to interrupt," said a voice from behind them.
An electric jolt shot through Blake. She suppressed a shriek and turned in Caleb's arms. There was a man coming slowly down the stairs, a man she didn't know. Tall and slim and slick-looking. Caleb's grip on her tightened and her pulse pounded hard in her throat. Had they walked right into a trap?
The man's gaze shifted from Caleb to her, then back again. "Don't you think you should introduce us, Caleb?"
Hearing the man's relaxed and friendly tone, Blake stiffened. She rotated her head to look at Caleb over her shoulder. His eyes lowered in defeat, and her heart sank. Caleb spoke.
"Blake, this is Steve Peterson. He's been my best friend for thirty years. And for the past two weeks, he's also been my boss."
Chapter Twenty-Two
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br /> "I'm sorry, I still don't understand," Blake said. She knew she was sounding stupid, but that was all right. She was feeling none too bright at the moment.
Stupid, she thought. As in: my brain is too fogged for this to make any sense to me.
And stupid, as in: I can't believe that the only two men I've trusted over the past decade have both been lying to me. First Rube, and now Caleb.
How much more stupid could she get?
She sat at the dining room table, with Caleb on her right and Steve across from her. As they talked, they sipped hot coffee and nibbled on toast in an appalling pretense of normality. And with every word that was spoken, her world crumbled a little more.
Steve had ended up preparing the coffee himself. After making his hurried and cryptic introduction, Caleb had refused to explain himself further until Blake had had a chance to shower and dress. He stayed close by as she cleaned up and donned a change of clothes, then he escorted her back downstairs. Through it all, his eyes spoke volumes, saying over and over again: I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. And please don't lose faith in me.
But how could she believe any of it now?
Caleb refilled her coffee cup as he repeated himself patiently. "Steve's the one who brought me out here from Iowa," he told her.
"The friend who needed a favor?" Blake asked.
"That's right. He had a job to do, and he needed someone he could trust. I guess I turned out to be that someone."
"And I turned out to be the favor." Blake's lips tightened as she tried to control her bitterness at having been lied to, conned, entrapped – as much by her own imprudent heart as by Caleb.
Caleb hesitated, then apparently decided not to sugar-coat it. "Yes. I was hired to watch you. To protect you. I tried to tell you several times, but – "