by Hope White
“May I meet him, please?”
Jenna glanced over her shoulder at the assailant.
Matt held his breath. Now what? If Matt came out of hiding, the bearded guy would shoot the cop and possibly Jenna.
The bearded guy eased his gun into the back of his jeans and opened the door wide. “Officer,” he greeted the policeman.
“Matt...?”
“Tomlin.”
Yet he’d identified himself as Veck when he’d called for backup.
“The storm’s not letting up for at least forty-eight hours,” the cop said. “I hope Marcus left a fully stocked pantry.”
Something felt off about the conversation. Matt wondered if the cop was a rookie, unable to sense danger. He continued to stand there, making small talk.
Behind him, Matt heard the window slide open. He shut the bedroom door and spun around, aiming his weapon at a man on the other side of the window. The guy pressed his forefinger to his lips, indicating they should be quiet. Matt didn’t lower his weapon.
The man, midthirties with dark hair and eyes, climbed through the window and gazed down at the sleeping boy.
“That must be Eli,” he whispered, and then looked at Matt. “I see you found my favorite piece. Under the bed frame on the right side?”
Matt lowered the weapon. “Marcus?”
He nodded, peeled back a rug and popped open a hidden door. He pulled out a duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Officer Patterson’s a friend. He’s supposed to figure out how many guys broke into my place.”
“You knew they broke in?”
“Got an alert on my phone. What are we looking at?”
“One guy, not afraid to kill.”
“Neither am I.”
“My priority is to protect the woman and child.”
“Me too. When Patterson leaves, go back into the living room and protect the woman. Eli will be safe in here. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Marcus motioned for the gun. “My piece?”
Matt shook his head, still not a hundred percent sure this guy was solid.
“You can’t take that into the living room,” Marcus said.
Matt studied him but didn’t give up the gun.
“You don’t trust me. Fair enough,” Marcus said. “Just know I’m really good at what I do.” He climbed out the window and disappeared into the dark night.
A few minutes later, the vibration from the front door slamming indicated Officer Patterson had left. Matt placed the gun on top of a row of books just as the door to the bedroom opened.
Jenna stepped inside, but only partially. The thug was holding on to her arm. “Is Eli okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, he’s sleeping.” Matt went to her and squeezed her hand. “Everything’s fine.”
She still seemed out of it. The thug released her and motioned them to the sofa. Once there, Matt put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She didn’t fight him. The sound of a snowmobile echoed through the window.
“She’s a smart girl,” the bearded guy said. “She followed orders.” He glanced out the window.
“I woke up and Eli wasn’t here.” Jenna looked into Matt’s eyes. “You weren’t here.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Eli needed to sleep. He’s one tired little tiger.”
“I should have been awake. I should have helped you.”
“Rest is the best thing for a concussion. A wise person once told me that.”
They shared an awkward smile, remembering when Jenna had given Matt that very advice after he’d been assaulted at the truck stop.
“What if he wakes up?” Jenna said, glancing over her shoulder at the bedroom door.
“He’s out. Trust me.”
She nodded and repositioned her head against his shoulder. He pulled her tighter against him, readying himself for whatever Marcus was planning.
* * *
The anxiety that pinged through Jenna like a pinball seemed to wane the longer she leaned against Matt—a good thing because she needed to find clarity, and she needed to get grounded again. Her head injury had messed up her thinking, like it had years ago after Anthony took out his rage on her.
When she’d awakened earlier she’d been snagged by a memory: She was in the hospital crying out for a son she’d never know on this earth.
Anger bubbled up inside her. She would not let this vile bully hurt Eli. She started to sit up, but Matthew whispered, “Shh, it’s going to be okay.”
She studied his warm blue eyes, eyes that radiated hope and faith. How was he able to do that?
“How’s your head?” he asked.
“It aches but I’m okay, I think.”
The lights clicked off and they were suddenly plunged into darkness. Matt rolled them both onto the floor and shielded Jenna by wrapping his body around her.
“Get over here.” The bearded guy scrambled across the cabin and tried to grab Jenna, but couldn’t get past Matthew.
She heard Matthew grunt as the guy kicked him, but Matt wasn’t letting go.
The cabin door slammed against the wall.
A gunshot rang out.
She yelped.
“It’s okay,” Matthew said against her ear.
Heart pounding with panic, she closed her eyes.
Tried to pray.
She couldn’t remember any scripture, anything that could help calm her nerves.
“Casting all your care upon Him; for He careth for you,” Matthew said, as if he sensed her need to reach out to God.
She repeated the phrase in her mind over and over during what felt like hours of a violent struggle.
Then, just as suddenly, silence blanketed the room.
“You guys okay?” a man asked.
The lights clicked on.
“Looks like you’re just fine,” the guy said with a touch of humor in his voice.
Matthew released Jenna and helped her sit up. They both leaned against the sofa.
A stranger stood beside the door, his boot resting on the bearded guy’s back. The thug’s wrists were bound and he grunted in protest.
“Jenna,” Matthew said. “This is Marcus.”
“Marcus, wow.” She glanced around the room, noting the overturned chairs and broken lamp. “How did you...?”
He pointed to goggles on the top of his head. “Night vision.” He glanced at the thug. “Didn’t stand a chance.”
Jenna cocked her head. She thought she heard...
Yep. Eli was crying.
“Go ahead,” Matt said.
That’s when she realized he was holding her hand. It felt natural and comforting.
It felt good.
“Thanks,” she said, but didn’t want to let go.
He released her hand. “Hope I didn’t crush you.”
“You didn’t.” In truth, she’d felt safer than she had in a long time. Thanks to a man’s protection. She never thought she’d feel that way. Ever.
“Want me to check on him?” Matthew offered, probably wondering about her hesitation.
“No, I’m good.” She glanced at Marcus. “Thanks for the save.”
“Sure. So what’s going on with my cousin Chloe?”
Jenna’s safe feeling was ripped out from under her. “She...”
“I’ll explain everything,” Matthew said. “Go to Eli.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t want to relive the memory, the fear.
Fear. She needed to seriously deal with that emotion so it wouldn’t consume her every thought, especially if she was about to comfort a child.
She opened the bedroom door and went to Eli. She touched his lips with the Binky, which had fallen out of his mouth. He latched on to it, but still whimpered.
She wasn’t sure what the official pac
ifier rules were regarding at what age a child should relinquish it, but she figured he deserved every comfort she could offer considering the circumstances.
“Bubba, my bubba,” she said, making up a song. “I love my baby bubba.” She stroked his cheek with the stuffed animal. He rolled onto his side and grabbed the bear. Jenna continued to sing, and Eli kept sucking on his pacifier. His eyelids drifted closed.
The gunshot must have awakened him. Poor child. She hoped he didn’t have nightmares from everything that was happening.
For half a second she wondered if she was doing the right thing, or if she should take Eli back to his father.
Gary is a monster, Chloe had said.
Jenna had experienced her share of those, yet couldn’t remember ever experiencing kindness from a peaceful, compassionate man.
Until now.
Until Matthew.
As she sang to Eli, she wondered what would happen next. The bearded guy’s associates were still on their way, which made Jenna, Matthew and Eli easy targets. They should flee the cabin and take refuge elsewhere. How long could they keep running, and how would they escape with a snowstorm barreling down on the countryside?
Panic threatened to take hold. Then she remembered Matthew’s words: Casting all your care upon Him...
Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d surrender her worry to God.
As she stroked the little boy’s hairline, she continued to whisper sweet words.
“Precious little boy, you are so very loved.”
For the briefest of moments, she thought she felt a flicker of love from God touch her heart.
...for He careth for you.
She considered the last few hours, how she’d survived a car accident and being held hostage. How Marcus showed up in time to help them, and the incredible peace she’d found in Matthew’s arms.
Was God looking out for her? Had her subconscious prayers, in fact, been answered?
With a sigh and a squeak, Eli rolled onto his tummy, his butt up in the air, clutching the white bear against his cheek. She covered him with the blanket and stroked the back of his head, humming softly.
Thank you, God, for protecting this beautiful child.
As the minutes passed, she was distracted by the sound of low male voices drifting from the other room. She took a deep breath, finding strength to deal with Marcus’s grief when she rejoined them. Could God help with that as well? Could He help her be there for Marcus without the man’s grief pulling Jenna down into the darkness?
That’s when it hit her that all these years since she’d left Anthony, she’d been running from darkness and grief, from any and all conflict. Yet, along with joy, these were a part of the human experience. She admitted she hadn’t truly dealt with the darkness haunting her—she hadn’t dealt fully with her violent past, which meant she hadn’t healed and couldn’t move on.
The past would haunt her indefinitely. As long as she allowed it to.
In essence, she was letting Anthony control not only her present, but also her future.
That thought made her angry, but in a good way. It wasn’t a victim-like anger, it was a warrior-type outrage, the kind that builds strength from within, inspires a person to stand up for herself and not back down from a fight.
To not back down from fear.
Convinced Eli had drifted off into a sound sleep, Jenna slid off the mattress. She made a makeshift wall around the edge of the bed with pillows and blankets. Standing up, she hovered beside the little boy and felt a surge of strength pour through her.
Strength, determination and courage.
She quietly crossed the room, hesitated at the door and took a deep breath. “Please, God, help me be strong.”
For Eli, for Marcus and for herself.
She stepped into the living room and gently shut the door behind her. Matthew was sitting at the kitchen table. The bearded thug and Marcus were gone.
“Officer Patterson took him into custody,” Matthew said, in answer to her unspoken question.
“And Marcus?”
“Helping escort the guy to Patterson’s patrol car. It’s parked on the main road.”
“Do we need to leave?”
“Not right away. Marcus and I checked the assailant’s text messages. His men were delayed by weather. We sent a response text from our bearded friend claiming that he was able to get his car out after all and he’s on his way. That’ll buy us some time.”
“His car?”
“Apparently you blocked it when you banked the truck.”
“Oh, right. I’m not sure how much damage I did to Ed’s truck. Sorry.”
“Come sit down.” Matthew motioned to her. “Coffee’s brewing, or tea if you’d prefer.”
“I’ll get some in a minute.” She crossed the room and placed her hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “Thank you, again, for everything.”
She wondered if he sensed that her gratitude went far deeper than saving her and Eli’s lives, that he’d been able to do something she didn’t think possible—offer her peace.
“That sounds ominous,” Matthew said.
She searched his blue eyes. “What do you mean?”
“It sounds like you’re saying goodbye.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
But they both knew the goal had been to find Marcus, who would take over protecting Jenna and Eli.
“How’s Eli?” Matthew changed the subject.
“Good, asleep.” She shifted onto a chair next to him. “He’s such a trooper.”
“That he is. And you?”
She absently touched her forehead where she felt a bruise forming. “I have a little bit of a headache, but my vision’s okay.”
“That’s not what I meant. Who’s Joey?”
“Joey.” She hesitated. “Joey was my unborn son. He died after Anthony shoved me down the stairs.”
Matthew touched her hand. “I am so sorry, Jenna.”
She nodded.
“Anthony went to jail for homicide?” he asked.
“No, aggravated domestic battery.”
“But you lost your child.”
“I needed to extricate myself from his abuse as quickly as possible and wanted to avoid a public trial. He wouldn’t plead guilty to homicide, but agreed to plead guilty to domestic battery. He spends three years in jail in exchange for a quick divorce. I wish the pain had been quick as well, but it will always linger.”
He squeezed her hand in a compassionate gesture. But she didn’t want this to turn into a pity party. “Did you tell Marcus about Chloe?”
“Yes. He blames himself for not taking her more seriously.”
“What do you mean?”
“She sent him an email last week stating she wanted to flee with Eli.”
“And he ignored her?” she said, unable to keep the judgment from her voice.
“According to Marcus, Chloe tended to be dramatic at times.” He glanced at Jenna. “Did you find that to be true?”
“I suppose a little, but that doesn’t negate her feelings.”
“Agreed. Yet if someone constantly sounds the alarm, after a while people start to hear nothing but white noise.” He pursed his lips.
“Why do I sense you’re speaking from personal experience?”
Matthew shrugged. “I think the coffee’s ready. Or did you want tea?”
“Tea would be great.”
He went to the hot water kettle and she watched him scoop instant coffee into two mugs, put a teabag in a third and pour hot water into all three. He rejoined her at the table and slid the tea in front of her.
“Thanks.” She wrapped her fingers around the mug. “So, we were talking about overly dramatic people who cry wolf. Does that have anything to do with—” she hesitated “—Sarah?”
He snapped his gaze to meet hers, but she didn’t see anger there or even irritation. Sadness dulled his blue eyes instead.
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” She dipped her teabag in and out of the mug a few times.
“How did you know about Sarah?”
“When you were injured at the truck stop, you said her name. You apologized to her.”
He stared into his coffee. “She was my almost fiancée.”
“Almost?”
“The night I’d planned to propose, she got in a car accident and died.”
“Oh, Matthew.” She reached over and touched his hand wrapped around the coffee mug.
“At the time, I blamed myself,” he said.
“What? Why?”
“The night I proposed, we got in a fight and she tore off in a crazy state. She wasn’t paying attention to the road, was driving too fast for the conditions and got hit by a truck.”
“Why would you blame yourself?”
“I should have been more considerate of her feelings, I guess. Instead, I thought she was being selfish and overreacting.”
“To what?”
“My job, how dangerous and demanding it is. When I worked an undercover assignment, I could go months without seeing her and she’d worry herself into a state. She knew when we started dating what she was signing on for, and I think she liked it, being able to say she was dating an FBI agent. I never pretended to be a nine-to-five kind of guy.” He glanced up at Jenna. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
“I’m glad you are.” She squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue.
“Anyway, I thought a marriage proposal might help ease her fears, but instead she lost it. Started shouting about two people making a marriage, not one, that she’d be raising our children on her own, that she’d have to give up her career as a physical therapist. I thought I was doing the right thing by proposing...” His voice trailed off.
“Of course you were. You loved her.”
He glanced at Jenna with regret in his eyes. “I should have gone after her that night.”
“You couldn’t have prevented the accident.”
“No, but I could have stopped her from leaving in such a crazed state.”
“We all have regrets about what might have happened if we’d made a different choice.”