“Get NCIS too,” Kathleen shouted. “And get down behind the desk.”
Jessica nodded and sunk down behind view. Kathleen got on her knees, simultaneously looking for a weapon and trying to pull the frame apart. Karl had done a fabulous job. The frame wasn’t budging easily, but it bent the canvas just enough she spotted a small blue plastic casing slip down below the wood. She touched her fingernail on it and pulled downward.
Click.
Her muscles stiffened. She didn’t move but looked up to find the gunman pointing his weapon at her head from in front of the counter.
He bared his teeth. “Stand up slowly.”
She did just that, but her fingertip slid down, and she cupped the chip in the process. She held her hands up, never before this thankful she’d learned so many magic tricks.
Thankfully his attention was directed at the item below. “Give me the frame.”
She took care to lift the painting with her left hand and passed it over to Aldric. Matt lurched past the security scanner. Kathleen jerked back, surprised.
Matt’s shaky finger came up to his mouth.
Aldric looked up at her. She had to keep him distracted...and loudly, if she had any hope of keeping his attention on her. “I’m sure we can make a deal where everyone gets out of this alive.” Sirens reached her ears. It was about time.
The gunman threw down the frame. “I think you’ve already made sure that is not a possibility. Where is the chip?” He pointed the gun at her face.
Every fiber of her being wanted to turn and run. Her body shook as if she were caught in the throes of a fever. “I have it,” she said firmly. Her teeth betrayed her by chattering. “The thing is—what will you do with it? I mean, what’s the point? The cops are almost here...”
His features stretched into something resembling a smile, but it wasn’t pleasant. “Then you and your sister will be my hostages until I can send the information from one of these computers.”
The thought of being his hostage any longer, after witnessing his nonchalance in shooting people, caused her stomach to turn. “My sister already left,” she lied, tipping her chin up in defiance.
He inhaled through his nose. “Yes. I can tell. That’s why the phone cord goes underneath the desk. And is shaking.”
She shrugged. “Air conditioner.”
Matt leaned on the center book display, inhaling, looking paler than the pages of the books. What did he think he could accomplish by coming in here?
“Give it to me now!” The gun trembled in Aldric’s hand.
Kathleen inhaled and closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds. Her eyes flashed open as she made the SD card slip through her fingers just enough for Aldric to see it…before she popped it into her mouth.
At least she made it appear it had gone into her mouth.
This was just a magic show...a magic show performed at gunpoint, but still just a magic show.
His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped. He reached over and grabbed her by the top of her head and pulled her hair. She screeched.
Matt held a hardbound book in his hands as he lurched her way. If Aldric saw him now, there was no doubt in her mind he would finish him off.
“If you hurt me, I snap this card with my teeth, and it will be worthless to you.” She purposefully made it sound like her mouth was full even though the card was safely in her hand.
“If I shoot you now, you won’t have a chance.”
“Okay, okay. I hadn’t thought of that.” She inhaled through her nose. Where was Matt? She couldn’t see him in her peripheral vision any longer, and there was only so much bluffing she could do.
“How about I start shooting the desk where your sister’s hiding? Is that the kind of games you want to play?”
Kathleen closed her eyes. She couldn’t let him do that, but who was to say he wouldn’t kill them anyway? Especially since he’d planned to use them as hostages. The sirens were growing louder, closer.
“You win,” she said, this time clearly.
She stepped into his hold, slipped the SD card into her right palm and lifted it up next to her hair. He would need to let go of her to get it.
The moment the pressure lessened, she waved her left hand underneath the counter, grasping what she knew was there. She touched the cool plastic and clenched it, swung the stapler up, open, and directly into the hand holding the gun.
Aldric screamed, and as she straightened, she saw Matt directly behind him, the heavy book arcing through the air before he slammed it into the man’s skull.
Aldric dropped to the ground just as the police and NCIS agents flooded the library from every direction.
Matt looked right at her, his mouth sloping up to the left in a half-grin. “I’ve always admired the classics.” The light dimmed from his eyes as he fell backwards, the copy of War and Peace dropping from his limp hands.
Epilogue
Three Months Later
Kathleen took a deep breath before walking through the front door of the purple Victorian house. She adjusted the bags of Chinese takeout in her hands and tried to sort her thoughts so she’d know best how to approach an awkward subject.
She knew the past three months had been hard on Matt. Recuperating from a gunshot wound to the thigh was no easy business, she’d found.
Aldric was safely locked up in prison, and according to the NCIS agent she plied with coffee, he’d ratted out the terrorist organization leader he’d worked for. The rogue cell tower had also been destroyed.
Still, Kathleen found she used her cell phone much less than before.
The last twelve weeks she’d been over at Matt’s house—actually his aunt’s house—every single day, even when his parents had come to stay for the first four weeks of his recovery. Her own parents had visited for dinner regularly after they returned from Arizona, along with her sister and her very thankful brother-in law.
Her boss had no problem giving her the freedom to telework. Why she’d never asked before was beyond her comprehension. So she’d taken her laptop over to Matt’s house and, in between her own work projects, helped him with his job. Essentially, she’d been his assistant the past two months.
He was a wonderful friend, a witty friend, a handsome friend...
She straightened. They hadn’t kissed once since the time in the APS truck—not that she hadn’t wanted to—but it made the conversation she needed to have with him all the more awkward. He’d reached over and squeezed her hands in thanks a few times, but nothing more.
Every time he made eye contact, she’d wanted to burrow into his strong arms. But there was also this unspoken knowledge that he would be leaving town soon. So nothing had happened. Nothing was said.
She knocked twice and listened for his usual call to enter. She jumped back in shock when Matt opened the door. “No crutches,” she exclaimed.
He nodded toward his right hand. In his palm he held a twisted walnut cane. “Doc gave me the go-ahead. He said it’s going to be a good six more months before I can walk without assistance. The nerves are still healing.”
Kathleen nodded but didn’t say anything. It was precisely the reason Matt’s boss had called her last night to offer a paid position with the art brokerage. She tried to smile. “Must feel great to lose the crutches, though.”
“Except for the nerve twinges in my feet, yes.” He glanced at the bag in her hand and took a step back. “Kathleen, you’re spoiling me.”
“Really?” She stepped past him and set the bag on the table in the dining room. She looked over her shoulder. “I thought you’d be tired of takeout by now. I wish I was a better cook.”
“Nonsense. Cooking is overrated.” He made his way toward her. “If you moved to New York, we could have takeout every night.” He looked down at the ground when he said it, his eyes glancing up as if trying to gauge her reaction.
Her mouth dropped. “Did your boss already talk to you?”
He grinned. “Busted. Jackson called me last night.” He h
eld up one hand. “But it wasn’t my idea, I promise. I wish it was, but I don’t have that kind of clout. I wanted to ask you right away, but I thought it’d be better coming from him. I don’t want to pressure you, Kathleen.”
She laughed. It was fear of the opposite response that had kept her up all night. She’d worried he wouldn’t want her to accept the position his boss had just offered.
Jackson had said he’d been impressed with her work and asked if she was willing to be Matt’s partner during his recuperation, as well as contract with the brokerage for web design. Kathleen was bursting with ideas for improvements. She’d wanted to say yes on the spot, and it took great restraint to tell him she would think about it. Would Matt feel the same way? Perhaps he was sick of her always being around.
“Before you answer,” Matt said, “I have something to tell you. Jasmine Gray got back to me. She wants to talk to you about your painting. She thinks it shows great promise. In fact, a honeymooning couple from Spokane apparently tried to buy it from her. I told her it was absolutely not for sale. If that’s okay with you.”
Her hands clasped together, and she nodded, trying not to laugh.
“You wouldn’t necessarily have to move to New York specifically to talk to Jasmine,” he said. “I just...I just don’t want you to give up on your own art no matter what you decide.”
He was trying to make her dreams come true for her, but at the moment she cared more about what her heart wanted. “It’s a very tempting offer,” she said softly. “But I wondered what that would mean for us...I mean, it complicates things, doesn’t it? Working together can put a strain on a friendship.” She bit her lip, trying to work up the courage to stop beating around the bush. “Or a strain on any other type of relationship, for that matter.”
He stepped closer, lifting her hand. The heat traveled up her arm, and she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.
“You’re right. Straight up, Jackson knows how I feel about you, Kathleen. You’d be my partner, not my assistant. If we had to travel, you’d be in a separate hotel room. You’d be a contractor, free to go when you want. And if you don’t feel the same way I do, I promise to respect that.”
She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. “And how do you feel about me, exactly?”
He moved her hand to his heart, pulling her in closer. “You know, I’ve been asking myself if I hadn’t stuck my foot in my mouth back in college, would we have been happy together all these years?”
She laughed. “And if I hadn’t been so naïve and prideful...”
“I’ve been grieving over the lost time we could’ve had.” He shook his head. “But I think God knew I had some growing up to do first. I’m just in awe he gave me another chance to get to know you...and to learn to appreciate art.”
She held her breath. His heartbeat pounded faster against her palm.
“Kathleen, you are a work of art. Not just your beauty but your heart, your mind, your soul...and I’d treasure your company, because I love you.”
She moved her hand up his chest until she reached his neck. “I love you,” she whispered. Before she could expound on all the things she’d grown to cherish about him, he bent down and kissed her softly.
“Kathleen?”
“Yes?” she murmured, their lips so close she brushed hers against his.
“Would you help me down?”
“Of course.” She turned to find the closest chair.
She’d probably caused him pain with the way she’d leaned into him when they’d kissed. He was so strong, she sometimes forgot he was still severely injured. He grabbed her hand. She turned to find she’d misunderstood. He was dropping to his left knee.
“Kathleen, would you—”
She froze, her whole core shaking. This was the desire of her heart. To be with a man who chose God over money, who trusted Him, and who loved her. “Yes.” She took a shuddered breath.
He laughed, his grin wide. “I didn’t get a chance to finish my question.”
“It’s still yes,” she said, nodding, only slightly embarrassed at her exuberance. “On one condition.”
His eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
“You still owe me a coffee date.”
He laughed and nodded, his thumb caressing the top of her hand. “How do you feel about coffee in Madrid?”
She imagined her passport finally escaping the fire safe in her bedroom closet. She pulled him back up to standing. “Sounds perfect.”
He shifted to lean against the table and wrapped his strong arms around her. Kathleen knew this was one memory she wouldn’t need framed.
Also By Heather Woodhaven:
Calculated Risk (Love Inspired Suspense)
The Secret Life of Book Club (Women’s Fiction)
Surviving the Storm (Love Inspired Suspense, Coming August 2015)
Heather Woodhaven earned her pilot's license, rode a hot air balloon over the safari lands of Kenya, assisted an engineer with a medical laser in a Haitian mission, parasailed over Caribbean seas, lived through an accidental detour onto a black diamond ski trail in the Aspens, and snorkeled among sting rays before becoming a mother of three and wife of one. Now Heather spends her days celebrating laughter, adding to her impressive list of embarrassing moments, and raising a family of aspiring comedians who perform nightly at her table. She channels her love for adventure into writing characters who find themselves in extraordinary circumstances—whether running for their lives or battling the insanities of life.
You can reach her at:
www.WritingHeather.com
www.TeamLoveOnTheRun.com
Twitter.com/HWoodhaven
Facebook.com/HeatherWoodhaven
Sanctuary Hidden
(WITSEC Town Series Book 2.5)
Lisa Phillips
Chapter 1
Cyan Greene turned the piggy bank around in her hands. The coins inside clinked together, the sound muffled against what she prayed was enough cash to get her to her gig tonight. A gig that would pay this month’s rent. It wasn’t stealing if the person who’s bank it was had passed away.
That was too benign a phrase to explain anything about her mother’s life—or her death. She’d been gunned down on the street in downtown Miami in what the police had told Cyan was a gang-related incident. Wrong place at the wrong time. But the police didn’t know Cyan and her mom had been in witness protection for thirteen years, out for nearly half that after her uncle was stabbed in prison. The threat had been over for a long time, but the memory of running and hiding never really went away.
Cyan shook the piggy bank and prayed some more. This was what her life had come to. Years spent trying to get her singing career off the ground and now she was scrounging for gas money. It hadn’t worked. She wasn’t the star her mom had wanted her to be. Cyan had to face the fact it wasn’t what God wanted for her and truth be told, it wasn’t what she wanted, either. Now at least she had the freedom of her mom’s absence to explore other things, to figure out what it was she was supposed to be doing.
First she had to get rent money, and then she could tell her manager she was done. She’d more than fulfilled her contract, and she just didn’t have the energy for it. She felt old and tired.
Cyan lifted the bank and threw it down on the kitchen floor as hard as she could. Pieces of stone shattered across the floor, spraying nickels, dimes and an alarming amount of pennies across the linoleum. A wad of scrunched up bills unfolded.
Cyan crouched and flipped through the bills, her heart sinking. Apparently she was taking the bus to her gig. She glanced at the clock on the oven. She’d have to leave pretty soon if she had any hope of not being late.
A small plastic square with SD on it slipped from the bills onto her palm.
Cyan stared at it.
Why would her mom keep a memory card in a piggy bank she never opened and yet had guarded like Cyan’s cat when her food bowl was full?
Cyan strode to her laptop and swiped the mouse pad to wake it up. She slid the S
D card in the slot she’d never used before and waited while her laptop came out of its stupor. When it finally loaded, the SD card showed a list of images and some documents. Cyan scrolled down them to view the preview. The pictures all had what looked like date stamps on the bottom, like an old digital camera. She opened one so she could see the date, and gasped. That day would forever be imbedded on her brain—the very day her mom had testified in front of a jury.
Why would her mom have kept a memory card of evidence? Surely it should have been turned over to the police. Her mom never did anything the logical way, but this was serious. People had died over her testimony, and more lives had been saved because her uncle had been put away and his organization dissolved.
The laptop screen went black. Cyan frowned and touched the mouse pad again. The screen flicked back on with her email program open. The quiet beep of Facebook notifications chimed four times in a row…five, six. The screen flickered again, and the photo was back but the bottom corner showed she was offline. Her internet was spotty at best, and she couldn’t stream anything unless she went to a coffee shop. Not to mention she badly needed a new laptop.
Cyan ejected the SD card and slipped it into her pocket. She grabbed her guitar case and purse, and locked up. Not that she had anything worth stealing when her guitar was going with her, but it was the principal of the thing. She didn’t want her nosy neighbor, or that guy who sent her flowers and cards every once in a while, to find her apartment unlocked.
After the gig she’d have to call the contact the US Marshals had given her. If the SD card was related to her mom’s case, then it was old, but it might still be important even now.
“Smile!”
Cyan turned back, trying to look happy. The iPhone camera flashed, blinding her with a yellow spot that lingered in her vision. “Hi, Mrs. Rae.”
Team Love on the Run Box-Set #1 Page 18