She was holding on to him so tightly it was like he’d got too close to the edge of a lifeboat and she was trying to keep him from falling out. Her hands slipped up around his neck, her head buried deeply in the crook of his neck. He’d forgotten the way her body fitted so perfectly against his chest.
“Listen,” she whispered. Her mouth so close to his face that her breath tickled his ear. “He’s watching us and we’ve only got a few moments before he figures out something is up. So we’ve got to talk now and talk fast.”
“Got it,” he said. “Do the cameras have audio?”
“No, but he can clearly see our faces. I don’t want him to think we’re whispering or conspiring.”
So she’d pretended to collapse to buy them a few moments. Smart move. Still, Nick could feel the urge to leap to his feet and take action boiling up inside him like a pot about to flip its lid. Instead he took a deep breath and prayed. Okay, God. Let me hold tight and listen. I owe her that much at least.
“You can’t agree to his demands,” he said. “You can’t walk up there alone with some armed thug.”
He felt her stiffen. “I don’t like it any more than you do,” she said. “But let’s put a pin in that for now, because I’m not sure what other options we have.”
“Can we stop the train?”
“Not from here.” She shook her head. Her soft hair brushed against his face. “We’d have to make it to the front engine.”
“Is there some way to cut off the fuel supply?”
“Not easily from a moving train and even if there was, the engines run everything. We’d have to think about what kind of situation we’d be stranding passengers in.”
“Yeah, but that’s better than being on a moving train controlled by hijackers—”
“It’s not like sitting in a car with the engine off,” Erica said. “Don’t you remember the huge train disaster where someone turned the train’s engines off, the brakes stopped doing their job, the train rolled, derailed and destroyed a large part of the town? The last thing we want is a runaway train falling off a bridge into a lake.”
“Okay, fine, we don’t cut the engine—”
“We could separate the train,” she said. “Then this would become a new front engine and we could go south, back to safety, without having to turn around. But we’d need to get to Bob. We need his help for that. And there’s no way we could separate the train until Zander’s safely with me. The idea of him and Tommy going on in the front half of the train while we escape to safety is unthinkable. I think the best option is if I go join my son and you stay here and search the baggage car for anything you can use to contact the outside world. Flares or a satellite phone would be nice.”
He’d thought they were putting a pin in the idea of her agreeing to Mr. Grand’s demands and being taken hostage without him. “I don’t want you going alone—”
“You want to be taken hostage?” she asked. “Because, trust me, I don’t. But if I can’t contact the outside world, get help or rescue Zander, then I’d rather be taken hostage alongside my little boy, so that he’s not going through this without me. And you’re strong enough and a good enough fighter to evade Fox when he takes me. Hide somewhere. Barricade yourself in somewhere. Let him tie you up and then escape. I don’t care how you do it. But our best option is for me to join my son and you to plan a rescue from the outside. And, knowing you, I think you’d rather be out here, plotting and planning something—anything—than be held hostage in a room with us.”
She might be right about that. But for the first time in his life Nick wasn’t actually sure. He could hear the faint sound of Mr. Grand shouting now. They were down to their final few seconds. He gritted his teeth. “I’ll stay behind. I’ll look for weapons and I’ll also try to recruit some other passengers. If my work with the Canadian Rangers has taught me anything, it’s that other people are our greatest strengths in a crisis.”
Something told him that the private security guy might not like the idea of being taken hostage. The elderly gentleman with military bearing and his diminutive wife crossed Nick’s mind, too.
“I definitely don’t want to involve passengers.” Erica’s voice sharpened. “Under any circumstances.”
“Well, neither do I,” he said. “But we don’t have a ton of options—”
“Or facts,” she interrupted. “What was it you taught me about not trying to shoot at a target before you see it? We don’t know why Mr. Grand assembled a crew of six people to steal a case from North Jewels Diamond Mine, why they ordered almost all of the staff off the train or what they’re planning to do when they get to Moosonee. But my hunch is that Mr. Grand’s plan doesn’t actually involve holding a whole train hostage.”
He felt her body start to pull away. “I should go.”
Now it was his turn to hold her fast. “Look, I hate to say this—”
“Then don’t—”
“But what’s the possibility that Tommy has something to do with this?” Nick plowed on.
“Tommy wouldn’t do anything of the sort!”
“It would explain why you weren’t ordered off the train, and why he, Zander and Clark have been kept safe,” Nick argued.
“So would the fact that they’re traveling in a private sleeper cabin with a prominent politician,” she shot back. “Maybe Mr. Grand’s plans changed when he realized just who he’d taken hostage. A well-known face is a better bargaining chip in a potential hostage situation. Or maybe Clark smooth-talked Mr. Grand to keep Tommy and Zander safe with some kind of bribe. I’d even be more willing to believe Clark had something to do with this than Tommy did. Clark’s always been a sleaze who managed to con people into believing he was a better man than he was.” Unlike him, Nick thought, who’d preferred to wear his flaws like armor. “But not Tommy. My brother might have his problems. He had a few minor brushes with the law when he was younger and has racked up a lot of debts. But he has a good heart and would never actually hurt anybody.”
“He once punched me in the face.”
“Do you really want to argue over who punched who and where?” she asked. “You both got into a lot of stupid fights back then! Especially when you were drinking! I’m just thankful neither of you ever got seriously hurt!”
Except for the damage he’d done to himself by crashing Max’s car.
“I didn’t say I was a good guy back then!” They definitely did not have time for this. But then again, Nick couldn’t exactly discount the possibility that the first thing Fox would do when released would be to shoot Nick in the head. This might be the last conversation they ever had. And if so, was this really how he wanted it to go?
“I said I was sorry and I meant it. I’m sure you wish there was somebody other than me here in your corner right now. But I’m telling you, if I was in your shoes, and my kid was in danger, no force on earth would stop me from doing whatever it took to save him. And, if given the opportunity, I’d do the same for you.”
There was a long pause, longer than he liked, punctuated only by the rattle of the train, the pounding of the rain above them and the faint shouts of Mr. Grand trying to drag their attention back to the walkie-talkie. He whispered a prayer under his breath, asking God to keep them, Zander and everyone else safe and alive.
Erica whispered, “Amen,” and it was only then that his arms loosened.
“You have some pretty impressive grip strength, by the way,” he said, suddenly desperate to say something, anything, to deflect from the fact she was about to let herself be taken hostage. He stood slowly, then reached for her hand. “Zander says you pack a mean punch.”
“I do kickboxing,” she said. She took his hand. “Thanks for getting me into it.”
He pulled her up. “Miss hitting me?”
“Maybe.” A faint smile curled her lips. “Did you miss sparring with me?”
“I missed kiss
ing you.”
Her eyes widened. Yeah, probably shouldn’t have said that. She stood there for a heartbeat, her hand still in his. Then suddenly she leaned forward, her lips brushed against his so quickly he barely had a moment to register that she’d just kissed him and he’d kissed her back. She pulled back and reached for the walkie-talkie. “See you later, Nick.”
“Enough stalling. I’m done being patient.” Mr. Grand’s tone came down the line, hard and coarse and furious. “We’re doing it my way and we’re doing it now... You! Come with me,” Mr. Grand’s voice seemed suddenly fainter on the line and it took Nick a moment to realize that he was talking to somebody other than him. They watched on the screen as Mr. Grand waved his gun at Clark, who stumbled to his feet, and Tommy said something Nick couldn’t quite catch.
But Clark’s response echoed down the line. “No worries, man. It’s going to be fine. I’ll be right back. Just take care of your lovely sister and nephew.”
They watched on the monitors as Mr. Grand led him out, the door to the first-class cabin closing behind him.
“Where did they go? I can’t see them.” Erica’s free hand reached for Nick’s arm. Her fingers slid down his sleeve until they reached his hand. His fingers linked through hers.
Then the camera changed. Mr. Grand and Clark were standing alone in the dining car.
“I warned you that if you didn’t do exactly as I said, I was going to start shooting people. This is on you.” Mr. Grand pointed the gun at the politician’s head. “Kneel.”
Clark’s eyes rose to the camera, as if he knew they were there. His chin rose bravely. He held the camera’s gaze like a man facing a firing squad, like a man who knew he was about to die.
Nick felt Erica’s fingers shake.
“No!” Erica’s shouted. “Don’t do this! I’ll do what you say. Just let Clark go. Nobody else has to die.”
“This is not a trade!” Mr. Grand’s voice rose. “This is a warning. Now, say goodbye.”
He held the walkie-talkie to Clark’s ear.
“Hey, Erica?” The politician’s voice was as smooth as ever with only a quiver of fear. “I guess we’re never going to end up going for that coffee, after all. If I’d known it was going to go down like this, I’d have come up with some great final last words. Something like ‘be good to each other’ and ‘love your country.’”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Erica said. “He’s bluffing.”
“Take care of yourself and your son,” Clark said. “It was a pleasure knowing you.”
Mr. Grand fired.
Clark crumpled to the ground.
* * *
Unshed tears flooded Erica’s eyes as she watched Mr. Grand drag Clark’s limp body out of the dining car and back into one of the first-class cabins.
“I’m sorry,” Nick said, but it seemed like his voice was coming from somewhere very far away. “He didn’t deserve that.”
No, Clark hadn’t. Nobody did. And yet here they all were, caught in some nightmare of somebody else’s creation.
“It’s all my fault.” Her shoulders shook. “If it wasn’t for me...” Her voice trailed off.
“Don’t say that.” Nick took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. But she couldn’t lift her head to meet his eyes. “None of this is your fault. None! For all we know, this is a professional hit to take out a politician and the case is just a distraction.”
She doubted it and suspected Nick was just saying it to make her feel better. Her hands brushed his arms, feeling the strength of him under her fingertips. “Let’s go. Just...don’t let them kill you.”
He chuckled softly, sadly. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
Lord, help me reach my son. Help me get him out of here safely. Zander’s all that matters in my life.
She stumbled into the baggage compartment, her unshed tears like a wall of water obstructing her view. Ahead, she could barely see as Nick let Fox out of his compartment, returned his weapon to him and told him that Mr. Grand wanted Fox and Erica to come see him in first class. The soldier shoved the storage locker that he’d used to block the baggage car door aside. Fox delivered a swift blow to the back of Nick’s head. Nick crumpled to the ground and Fox raised his weapon, as if ready to deliver another blow when Nick leaped to his feet. But Nick lay still. Fox snorted, grabbed Erica tightly by the arm and shoved the gun hard into her side. Her body was so numb she barley felt it. “Walk.”
They walked forward.
Clark Lemain was dead. Sure, he’d been pushy, with too high an opinion of himself, and had a habit of making proprietary comments about Zander needing a father. But he was a person, he was her brother’s friend, she’d known him since kindergarten and now he was dead. Mr. Grand had taken his first life and it was because of her.
Her heart pounded with thoughts too painful to put into words. Her colleagues had been tied up and left in the middle of nowhere in the rain. Her brother’s friend had died. There was nothing to stop her or Zander from the next people killed. Lord, help me. Please. I don’t even know what to pray right now.
She half expected someone to be waiting for them on the other side of the door. Instead, there was no one there. Fox led her out of the baggage car and everything inside her wanted to look back at the soldier—her soldier, her Nick—lying there on the baggage car floor. But if she did, those tears would start falling and she’d never stop crying. She’d collapse like she had the night Nick had taken her heart in his hand and smashed it to shards. She’d spent days in her room, crying and shouting, feeling weak and helpless, blaming herself, until the relentless sickness in her stomach revealed itself to be more than depression and a broken heart. It was a baby. His baby. Their baby. She was going to have a child. That was the day she got up, washed her face and decided her child needed her to be strong and to stop feeling sorry for herself.
At least this time she’d let herself kiss Nick goodbye. And she had to believe that soon, in the future, when they were all safe and all the dust had settled, and she told Nick that Zander was his son, he’d understand why she’d waited. Nick would be just as dedicated to protecting Zander if he didn’t know and far less likely to go off like a loose cannon if she suddenly sprang the news on him. And Zander’s safety was all she was going to focus on now.
She stepped slowly, focusing on keeping one foot in front of the other as she and Fox walked through the passenger cars toward the front of the train. Around her, passengers slept, or at least looked like they were trying to. Seemed she’d been right in suspecting that the sound of a gunshot wouldn’t have carried through the train, especially since Grand had used a silencer. Rain lashed the darkened windows. The stench of cigarettes on Fox’s breath came inches from her face. She kept her eyes straight ahead as they passed from the first passenger car through the connecting space and into another, then slowly through that one into the next.
The ground dragged beneath her feet suddenly, jolting her mind awake, as if she’d been sleepwalking. The train was slowing beneath her, in the middle of nowhere, with no station around for miles, and yet she could feel it, through the soles of her shoes. The train was stopping.
“Keep moving.” Fox’s grip tightened on her arm. “What’s going on?”
“It’s not me. It’s the train.”
The people around her could feel it, too. Their eyes were blinking. They were shifting in their seats. Any moment now and they’d be getting to their feet, asking why the train had stopped and realizing soon enough that almost all of the staff was gone. Whoever was stopping the train here, now, in the middle of nowhere, and whatever they thought they were doing, they were about to make everyone’s situation a whole lot more dangerous.
A cough dragged her attention to her right. A broad man in a dark blazer, surrounded by other men in business suits, flickered his eyes in her direction for a moment. Then she felt a boot, swift and preci
se, kicking her in the back of the knee and buckling her leg. She pitched forward, falling away from Fox’s grasp as she tumbled onto her hands and knees on the floor of the train. A smattering of voices gasped. Okay, people were really waking up now. She looked back. Had the man in a blazer really tripped her? The stranger’s eyes searched her face with an inscrutable look that made it impossible to tell if he was friend or foe. But somehow oddly reminded her of Nick’s brothers in law enforcement.
Who was he? Had he tripped her on purpose? And if so, what reason could he possibly have for that? Yes, he’d momentarily got her a few feet away from Fox’s gun, but if he’d suspected something was wrong, or wanted to confirm Fox was holding a gun on her, this was a really weird way to respond to it.
But any attempt to get an answer to that was suddenly put on hold as her attention was suddenly drawn to movement in the window at the end of the train car. A face, impossibly handsome, infuriating and strong, met hers through the glass. Nick! He’d followed, creeping behind them as they’d moved from car to car. She should’ve known Fox’s blow hadn’t been strong enough to take a man that hardheaded down. She also should’ve known Nick wasn’t going to stay behind like agreed. No, instead he was going to be impulsive. Instead he was going to risk getting somebody else killed.
She caught his gaze and held it. Hard.
No, Nick. No. Trust me. Whatever you’re thinking of doing right now, don’t do it.
Fox kicked her in the side. He jabbed the gun so deeply into the pocket of his open jacket she could clearly see the outline. “Get up! Walk! Now!”
“Hey, lady?” The blazered man stood and stretched. “Is everything okay? You took quite a fall.”
Like he hadn’t been the person who’d tripped her.
“Hey!” Fox spun toward him. “She’s with me.”
“Is that all right with you, miss?” The man crossed large arms over a broad chest. Dark eyes, under darker brows, fixed on Erica. “Or would you like to sit down and join us for a bit?”
Rescuing His Secret Child Page 6