Ready, Aim...I Do!: Missing

by Debra Webb

  Frantic, Melissa looked around. There was nothing to use as a weapon... Her gaze lit on the heavy curtain rod above the window.

  She snatched it down and rushed into the corridor.

  Jonathan had Carol pinned to the floor. “Call for help,” he yelled out to Melissa.

  She dropped the curtain rod and ran back to the front door to search for her phone. She found it on the steps. She grabbed it and completed the call she had started minutes before.

  Once she’d given the dispatcher their location, she rushed back to where Jonathan continued to restrain Carol.

  “I’ll try to find something to tie her up,” Melissa offered.

  Jonathan nodded.

  That was when she saw the blood.

  It soaked his shirt in a long line starting at his shoulder.

  Her heart bumped her sternum.

  Pull it together.

  She ran to the bedroom where she’d seen the suitcase. The zipper gave her hell, but she finally ripped the bag open. Melissa grabbed several items and hurried back to the hall.

  Trying not to rough Carol up too much, they got her restrained, with the clothing as makeshift rope.

  Melissa hurried back to the closet where she’d left Polly. She lifted the little girl into her arms and hugged her tight. “It’s okay now.”

  Polly sobbed against her chest. Melissa kissed her sweet head, inhaled the baby scent of her silky blond hair. “Thank God. Thank God.” It would be okay now.

  Except for Jonathan. How badly was he hurt? Polly in tow, she hurried back to the hall. “We should look at—”

  Chief Talbot stood in the hallway, his weapon leveled on Jonathan.

  Fear grabbed Melissa by the throat.

  Jonathan was attempting to talk him into putting the weapon down. Melissa was too terrified to move. If he turned the gun on her he might hit Polly.

  “Your wife is going to need your help, Chief,” Jonathan offered. “You need to be able to help her. You can’t do that if you don’t make the right choice now.”

  Carol lay on the floor bellowing in agony, her hands and feet tied behind her.

  Chief Talbot turned to Melissa. Her breath caught.

  “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I thought I could make this right.”

  With the gun trained on Jonathan, time seemed to stand still.

  Then finally Chief Talbot lowered his weapon, bent down and placed it on the floor.

  Melissa dragged in a breath.

  It was over.

  Jonathan took the chief’s weapon and ushered him over to take care of his wife. Then he came to Melissa and his arms went around her.

  It was really over.

  Polly was safe.

  The smell of warm blood filtered into her nostrils. Melissa drew back. “You’re hurt. Let me look at that.”

  He didn’t resist. They walked outside, away from the chief and his wife and their sobbing. Those two had their own problems to work out.

  Melissa settled Jonathan on the front steps with Polly right next to him and inspected the bullet wound.

  “It’s not so bad,” she surmised. “Right in and right out. Based on the location in your shoulder, it shouldn’t have hit anything important.”

  Jonathan looked up at her. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one bleeding.”

  Melissa smiled. “You’ll live, trust me.”

  He took her hand in his. “I do trust you.”

  The pain in his eyes was not from the wound; that she knew for sure. “I’m glad you still can after all I said.”

  “It was all true.”

  God, she’d said some awful things to him. “I’m sorry. I was...overwrought.”

  “You told the truth.” He squeezed her hand. “But there’s always room for change. Even for a guy like me.”

  She nodded, the movement like the workings of a rusty hinge. Words would not squeeze past the emotion in her throat. It was all she could do to hold back the tears.

  “Give me another chance,” he murmured.

  For three years she had hoped one day he would say those words. “I’m sorry.” She sucked in a jagged breath. “Could you repeat that, please?”

  He laughed. But before he could, Polly tugged at Melissa’s blouse. “I want my daddy.”

  Melissa laughed and cried at the same time. She scooped the child into her arms. “I will definitely take you to your mommy and daddy, little one.”

  Jonathan pulled her down to sit beside him. He kissed her cheek and rubbed Polly’s pretty head.

  They were okay. Melissa felt herself smiling again. They were better than okay.

  Blue lights flashed in the distance.

  “Those guys should have a first aid kit.” She was still worried about Jonathan’s injury despite her assessment.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Good grief, she was a nurse. She should be taking care of him, not the other way around. But right now her head was spinning wildly. Her heart was thumping like crazy and she couldn’t think.

  He lifted her chin, ushering her gaze to his. “Think about my offer, would you?”

  She bit her lips together for a moment to hold back the tears. “There’s nothing to think about. You’re on, Mr. Foley.” She narrowed her gaze. “But I’m warning you, you won’t get away so easily this time.”

  He smiled. It reached all the way to her heart. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chicago, Monday, May 30th, 1:30 p.m.

  “So this is the real Jonathan Foley?” Melissa bit her lips together to hide a smile as she surveyed the place Jonathan called home.

  He quirked an eyebrow at her. He loved it when her eyes sparkled so. “I’m rarely here.” But that sad fact was about to change.

  Melissa strolled over to the table next to the sofa and pointed to the blinking light on his answering machine. He had fourteen messages. “Are those girlfriends?” She smiled this time but there was a little hesitancy in her eyes. She still needed some reassurance.

  Jonathan crossed to where she stood and pulled her into his arms. “My boss or one of my colleagues.” He brushed his lips over hers. She gasped. “Probably trying to persuade me not to go.”

  She searched his eyes, hers full of hope. “You’re sure this is what you want to do?”

  “Absolutely.” He kissed her nose, his body already reacting to holding her near. “My boss hired a new staff when he bought the Equalizer shop. None of the former staff stayed. He’s got a couple of really top-notch guys who can handle things until he replaces me. He won’t even miss me.”

  Her gorgeous face brightened with happiness and his heart stumbled. Finally, he’d been able to do what he couldn’t three years ago—make her happy. That meant more to him than he could possibly ever hope to articulate.

  “Well, let’s get you packed!”

  She started to pull out of his arms, but he drew her closer. They’d come straight here from the airport. He had to pack up and turn in his keys to the landlord. “Later.” He grinned. “We haven’t slowed down since we found Polly. I’d like a few minutes with you all to myself.”

  “Sounds doable.” She tiptoed and nipped his bottom lip with her teeth. “We’re known for slow and easy in the south.”

  “Then I’m going to love living in Alabama.” He covered her mouth with his own. She melted into him.

  The telephone rang.

  Jonathan reluctantly drew back enough to take a breath. “Do we really need a phone in Alabama?”

  Melissa laughed. “We’ll have to negotiate that.”

  The answering machine picked up and the voice of his former boss from the Equalizers filled the silence. “Your final case has been closed out, Foley. Good luck in your new endeavor.” The line disconnected.

  “Now—” Jonathan cupped her face “—where were we?”

  3:30 p.m.

  SLADE CLOSED THE FILE he’d been reviewing. The assignment was exactly the sort of
case Dakota Garrett could handle. Ex–Special Forces. Kicked out of the military for disobeying orders. Definitely the right man for the job. No worries there.

  He closed the file and turned off the light on his desk. He locked up on his way out of the brownstone. He never visited the office unless his secretary was gone for the day or away on lunch. Never met face-to-face with his investigators. For now that was the way it had to stay.

  Since Foley had resigned, Slade would need to consider a new hire. None of the former owner’s staff had remained with the Equalizers firm. Not that Slade wanted anyone who knew the former owner, Jim Colby, to stay. Still, he needed to keep the Equalizers operational until he was finished here. Staying operational required staff.

  Slade pointed his SUV in the direction of downtown. He had something to do. The same thing he did every day at this time. His destination had a transit time of about twenty minutes, depending upon traffic. Once at the location, he parked his SUV and then parked himself at the same table he always chose at Maggie’s Coffee House.

  The table provided the best view of the comings and goings at the Colby Agency. He placed his same order, medium black coffee, dark Columbian roast. Then he settled in to observe his prey.

  No one at the Colby Agency knew him. Even Jim, the man from whom he’d bought the brownstone and the Equalizers firm, didn’t know his name or his face.

  Slade Keaton wasn’t even his real name.

  He hadn’t used that sham of a name in over a decade. He never would again.

  Slade had taken charge of his life. He’d clawed his way up from rock bottom and now he owned whatever he chose to own, whomever he chose to own.

  And not a soul had a clue who he was or what he was up to. Certainly not anyone at the Colby Agency.

  But they would know very soon.

  Very, very soon they would all know him.

  One of them in particular, the illustrious Lucas Camp, would come face-to-face with that long-ago mistake he’d made and quickly forgotten.

  And he would pay.

  Victoria Colby-Camp had better brace herself.

  Her whole perfect world was about to be turned upside down.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from TRAP, SECURE by Carol Ericson.

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  Chapter One

  Randi Lewis clutched the book of fairy tales to her chest as a second thump shook the room.

  The children laughed, and Nicky poked his finger at the book. “Did the witch scare you, mademoiselle?”

  Randi eked out a smile. Nicky didn’t seem to notice the strange bumps in the nights and the comings and goings of an assortment of odd characters to his father’s palatial home in the middle of the jungle.

  But Randi had grown more and more aware—and leery—of them.

  Her grandmother had warned her about taking a job in this luxurious but strange household. “Drogas,” Abuelita used to say. Drugs.

  But the locals had assured her Nico Zendaris was no drug lord, and Randi had needed the job to help her ailing grandmother. Now with Abuelita dead, nothing was keeping Randi in Colombia.

  Nicky’s younger sister, Angelina, tapped her knee. “More story, please, mademoiselle.”

  Nothing except these motherless children.

  Tugging on one of Angelina’s dark curls, Randi met the girl’s big, dark eyes and said, “But this is the scary part, Angelina. You always cover your ears during this part.”

  Angelina dropped her lashes, and her gaze slid to the door. “More story, please.”

  Tears choked Randi’s throat. The activities and people in her father’s house did scare Angelina. The girl preferred the make-believe fears of witches and giants to the very real fears of shadowy men, her father’s outbursts and being uprooted and shipped off to other countries at a moment’s notice.

  Randi peeled the book from her chest and cleared her throat. “The witch fed the children more and more food—roasted duck and mashed potatoes and thick slabs of bread and cheese and ice cream sundaes.”

  Nicky howled. “You’re making that part up. They didn’t have ice cream sundaes in those days.”

  “Shh, Nicky. Don’t yell.” Angelina stuck her fingers in her ears.

  Patting his sister on the head, Nicky rose to his knees. “I want to see the picture, mademoiselle. I want to see the picture of ice cream sundaes.”

  Randi turned the book around to face the kids. Something crashed right beneath them, and she dropped the book.

  Angelina scooted closer to Randi and wrapped her arms around her legs.

  Randi dropped her hand to Angelina’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t worry. I’m here.”

  The crash even caught Nicky’s attention, and he looked up from the fallen book with a pair of round eyes. “What was that?”

  “I’m not sure.” Her gaze darted to the intercom on the wall. Mr. Zendaris often used it to communicate with her when she had the children in this room—what he called the nursery—even though Nicky was seven and Angelina had just turned five.

  Her tongue swept across her dry lips. She rose from the chair and almost crept across the room to the intercom. On the way, she locked the door of the nursery.

  She pressed the intercom button. “Hello? Is everything okay downstairs?”

  Mr. Zendaris’s security had set up the intercom so that the people on the other end could hear her, but she couldn’t hear them unless they pressed the button on their intercom. Not that she needed an intercom to hear the noises, shouts and upheaval from downstairs.

  Both children whimpered and crowded against her. She pressed them close with one hand and spoke into the intercom again. “Hello? This is Mademoiselle Lewis. I’m with the children. Is there a problem?”

  A male voice growled back at her. “Stay where you are.”

  On shaky legs, Randi led Nicky and Angelina back to the carpet where they’d been reading. With her fingertips, she pushed them down. “Stay on the floor.”

  She sidled against the wall until she reached the large window that overlooked the rolling back lawn of the property. The spotlights that usually glared brightly enough to pick out every blade of grass had been snuffed out. The crescent moon playing peekaboo with the clouds didn’t offer any illumination.

  The stillness of the scene outside contrasted with the frantic activity below them. This sounded like more than one of Mr. Zendaris’s rampages.

  Someone pounded on the nursery door. “Open up.”

  Randi’s heart galloped in her chest, but she recognized the voice of one of Zendaris’s security guards, Costa. She didn’t like Costa, or his overpowering cologne, but at least he treated the children with care.

  She crossed the room with Nicky and Angelina hanging on her arms. She unlocked the door and threw it open. “Costa, what is going on down there? It’s frightening the children.”

  Sweat gleamed on Costa’s bald pate as he swooped down and swept up the kids, one in each massive arm. “You don’t worry about the kids anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” Randi’s blood ran hot and pounded against her temples. “Nicky and Angelina are my responsibility.”

  Nicky let loose with a long wail and Angelina looked like a wax figure clamped against Costa’s side, her gauzy pink scarf trailing on the
floor.

  Randi reached out to smooth Angelina’s soft curls from her face and drape the scarf over her head, but Costa jerked back toward the door. “Not anymore, mademoiselle.”

  Nicky began to squirm and shriek. Adjusting his grip on the kids, Costa backed out of the room and kicked the door shut.

  Randi lunged for the door and grabbed the handle. It turned, but the door wouldn’t budge. She banged on it with her fists. “Open this door. Let me out of here.”

  Someone grunted on the other side of the door, and Randi knew she was a captive. But why? If Mr. Zendaris were just uprooting the kids again and taking them to one of his other homes, why imprison her in the nursery?

  On other occasions he’d calmly informed her of his plans for the children and she’d taken the opportunity of their absence to stay with Abuelita for a while. She even accompanied Mr. Zendaris once or twice to Paris, Athens and Budapest.

  What changed? Why the commotion downstairs? Why had she been sequestered in the nursery?

  She pummeled the door, but only managed to hurt her hands. She scooped up Angelina’s scarf from the floor and wound it around her neck. Taking a turn around the room, she folded her arms across her chest, her fingers digging into her biceps.

  A thwacking noise penetrated the room, and she ran to the window. A large, black helicopter descended from the darkened sky. Its lights illuminated the lawn and beyond the manicured grass to the dense foliage that ran to the high walls surrounding the property.

  Randi’s breath hitched in her chest, and a chill snaked up her spine. Here and there, members of Zendaris’s security force were scattered along the wall, weapons clutched in their hands.

  Was the compound under some kind of siege? And did Zendaris plan to leave her behind to face his enemies on her own?

  The air in the room stifled her. She opened the French doors to the balcony that jutted over a flagstone path below. She needed fresh air and freedom, but this route offered no escape, two stories high and with no visible means of reaching the ground.

  She wedged her hands on the flimsy railing that encircled the balcony. She’d prohibited the children from coming out here since very little stood between them and a long drop to the unforgiving flagstones.