Don't Hide From Me

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  “So how goes the battle?” he said, going up on his toes, his hands now in his pockets as he slipped a glance past her into her room.

  “Great.” She shrugged. It sucked, really, considering she hated everything about the business courses she’d selected—correction, the ones Vic had selected when she didn’t come up with a viable plan of what would come next after high school. It was one of only a few conversations she’d had with him. Odd, his controlling streak. He was a difficult man: wealthy, established, and still very much a stranger. Her dad didn’t move, so she cleared her throat, feeling the chill from the blast of air conditioning in the hall, considering all she had on in the hundred-degree heat was a tank top and shorts. Her feet were bare, and her long red hair was pulled high in a ponytail.

  Her dad stepped back so she could slip out of her room as she heard the clatter from the kitchen. Rounding the corner, she took in her mom putting a steaming bowl of spaghetti noodles on the small round table set for three. Shelley McCabe glanced up and smiled. Her eyes were the same light honey brown as Claudia’s. At times, it was as if she was looking in a mirror, except Shelley was now in her fifties, with lines around her eyes, freckles that had faded, and deep auburn hair that came from a Clairol bottle as of late. Her figure was trim, though, and it wasn’t lost on her that her mom wore the same golfing attire as her dad.

  “Golfing with Dad again?” she asked, but it really was a no brainer, considering that was their latest passion. Last month it had been a book club, and next week it could be fly fishing.

  “Right after dinner. We have a seven thirty tee time. Should be cooler. You should join us,” her mom said as she carried a salad topped with tomatoes from the pots outside and a steaming bowl of meat sauce to the table.

  Golfing? Not a chance. “Ah, no, sorry. Have plans with Tina. Meeting up at the coffee house by campus.”

  “Tina?” her dad said as he took her in. “Heard lots about her. Wouldn’t mind meeting her sometime. You should bring her by.”

  “Sure” was all she could say, knowing that would never happen. She couldn’t imagine bringing anyone by to meet her parents and explaining the gory details of why the only family photos on the wall were of her brothers and dad. That was a tainted history she wasn’t about to share with anyone.

  “Claudia, grab the salad dressing, would you?” Her mom gestured to the oversized white fridge. Claudia pulled it open just as she caught the exchange between her parents, the kiss, the smile. She was glad she had something else to look at. Which dressing? Ranch, feta, thousand island, or…

  “You’re letting all the cold air out, Claudia. Make a choice and close it,” her mom called out, so she grabbed all three and closed the door, taking in the knowing look her mom tossed her way. What was to come later, she was sure, would be another talk about letting her dad be a part of her life. The man was now taking garlic bread from the oven, and the smell had her mouth watering. Jerry McCabe… She still couldn’t understand how she was related to him, considering there was nothing they remotely had in common.

  Claudia’s mind blanked as she took in his smile for her again—awkward, nice. She said nothing as she walked to the table, taking in the concrete driveway and the small red Escort with the rusted-over dent, her gift to her mom her first time behind the wheel, when she’d taken a corner too sharp and dinged a fire hydrant.

  Her dad had a small Chevy pickup that had seen better days, and then there was her car, the new grey Toyota Camry, a gift from Aaron, also a man she barely knew. Why he’d given it to her, she still didn’t have a clue, considering he was about as open and easy to read as she was. But at least it was a nice car, and hers.

  “Hey, where’s your head today? You’ve barely said two words,” her mom said.

  A chair scraped, and she didn’t have to look up to know her mom was watching her closely. Her dad was already sitting, dishing up. There was that touch again. Her parents were so close they couldn’t keep from touching each other. It was sweet in a gross sort of way as she did her best to ignore them, forking up a mound of spaghetti and shoving it into her mouth.

  “Just spent hours doing homework. What can I say?” Did her nose grow, she wondered, considering she’d done nothing but stare at a blank screen, daydreaming of sailing, traveling, anything other than getting a business degree she didn’t have a clue what she’d do with?

  “Hmm” was all her mom said, and this time, thankfully, she dug into her food and started chatting with her dad about their upcoming golf game and some friends to meet. That left Claudia to her dinner, her thoughts, and, most importantly, who would be at the coffee house.

  * * *

  She’d changed three times, settling on her slim-cut jeans and a gray tank with silver hoop earrings. She added shadow, mascara, and liner to really bring out the golden honey in her eyes, and from the image reflected back in the mirror, she knew she looked especially hot, good enough to be seen by the who’s who of the college campus who frequented the coffee house. It was where some of the hottest girls competed for all the jocks’ attention. Add in the geeks, the nerds, and everyone else who didn’t quite fit in, and it was the place to go. That, of course, was before any of the popular guys and girls headed out to one of the many parties or one of the many bars with their fake IDs—but that little bit she’d keep to herself. Not that her parents asked much, but sharing everything wasn’t something she was too willing to do.

  Claudia waved to her parents, who were just loading their matching golf club bags into her dad’s small pickup. Maybe golfing was the pastime that would stick before one of them got bored and suggested something else.

  She pulled out of the driveway, knowing she was late again. She heard her iPhone beep, her phone tucked in the side of her brown leather purse. She reached for it and saw the message: Where are you???? Second cup of latte I’m on and I’m tired of sitting alone.

  Okay, she really needed to work on her timing. She watched the road as she texted, keeping an eye out for cops, too. On my way. Five minutes, I swear. She added a smiley face and dumped her phone on the passenger seat. She heard another beep, but this time she left her phone where it was. When she drove past the coffee house eight minutes later, every parking space in front was taken, so she kept driving around the block, closer to campus, seeing the barren desert on the other side as the sun slipped lower on the horizon.

  After pulling a U-turn, she parked two blocks away between a black truck and a white cargo van in front of the Waverly, a three-story complex of apartments that housed mostly college students. There was music pumping from one of the open balcony doors, and around the side a dumpster flowed over with garbage, rank in the heat. The streets were far from empty as she stepped out of her car. She clinked the lock on the key chain and lifted her purse over her shoulder, wearing sandals with a slight heel that she knew made her long legs even longer.

  A crack in the air had all the hair on the back of her neck standing up. The fear that hit was followed by one thought: What the fuck was that sound? Her first reaction was to hit the ground when she heard two more pops, this time knowing it was a gunshot, two more, maybe three. She had no idea as her hand went over her head and she ducked. She heard yelling and running, feeling the direness of the situation. All of it was nothing like on TV.

  The fear that pumped through her had her moving away from the openness toward the building, the bushes. That was all she focused on, getting the fuck out of there, someplace to hide until sanity or help or something the could right this craziness arrived. It was out of her peripheral that she saw people running everywhere and nowhere. It was chaos, a blur, as she stumbled and moved over a rock, seeing the side of the building as her salvation before her foot caught on something solid.

  She went face first, landing on her stomach, her hands scraping the pavement. She was wet as she rolled to the side and pulled her feet up, seeing blood on her arm, her hand, and pooled on the ground around her. She felt nothing in the confusion, the silence arou
nd her, not knowing whether she’d been hit until she stared at what had tripped her: the lifeless brown eyes of a young man staring back at her.

  * * *

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  ‘A 2016 Readers’ Favorite Award Winner’

  VANISHED

  The Saved Series

  ‘A 2016 Readers’ Favorite Award Winner in Suspense’

  She thought her nightmare was over

  —“I'm an advocate for women in sexual assault, abuse and domestic violence, and I have to give this author two thumbs up for how she writes her stories.” – Amazon Reviewer- Jamie

  —“Lorhainne Eckhart is a very prolific and talented writer. Get to know her work, you won't regret it.” – Amazon Reviewer – Karen

  —“Loved this book...Five stars don’t come from me easily. Tugged at my heart!”—Kivey

  —“The focus on a woman taken was a very classic ideal because it was set in a military arena. YOU have to read these books, but make sure that you have e box of tissues because you will need them.” — Faybe

  In VANISHED, Abby has married the man of her dreams. He rescued her, and he’s the father of her child. Everything should be perfect, but she begins to relive her nightmare from when she was taken… and one night she disappears, leaving her children alone in the dead of night, her husband on a military ship halfway around the world.

  * * *

  But when Eric arrives home and the search begins, there are two disturbing questions: Was someone in the house? And how is it possible for Abby to simply vanish?

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  Read excerpt from VANISHED

  “Push. Come on, baby. You can do this.” Eric was behind Abby on the hospital bed so she could lean against him. Her hands gripped his with a strength most men didn’t have. She was damp and sweaty, and she was exhausted from being in labor all night, more than twelve hours.

  “Almost there, Abby. Just give me one more push.” The military doctor, Chase Hargrove, was a young, round-faced man of medium height and build with light curly hair. He glanced at Eric and lifted the baby, setting him on Abby’s stomach. “Here he is, your boy.” Chase grinned, flashing two dimples, and stood up, glancing at Abby through his round, fashionable glasses. “How are you doing, Abby?”

  “I’m okay.” She set her hand on the baby’s back, trying not to nudge her IV. She watched the baby, and Eric leaned down and kissed her forehead, brushing back the long blond hair that was tangled and stuck to her skin. She gazed up at him with heavenly blue eyes that appeared tired and a little glassy. Exhaustion—it had to be.

  “You did good, baby. You okay?” he asked. His arm was around her, and she leaned against him. Her knees were still up as the doctor finished delivering the placenta. She lifted her hand from the baby and rubbed her forehead, pressing her cheek into Eric’s chest.

  “I’m just tired. Can you take the baby?” She had lifted her hands as if the baby lying on her was a burden. She sounded off, too, Eric thought, or maybe she was just tired and he was reading too much into it.

  The doctor glanced up but didn’t seem concerned. A nurse set a blanket over the baby and wiped off most of the blood, and Eric lifted him as another nurse set a white cotton hat on his head. Eric stood up, and Abby lay back down, the head of the bed raised as high as it could go, as a nurse started to check her vitals.

  “We’re going to get you moved and settled pretty quickly. You should be able to go home at the end of the day,” the doctor said.

  Eric held his newborn baby, so tiny, in the crook of his arm. He flicked his gaze away from his quiet son, who had yet to make a peep. He had round cheeks and a pink face with a tiny button nose just like his mama’s. His eyes were still closed. Eric smiled until he noticed Abby looking away, appearing uninterested in what the doctor was saying. Eric added, “How about some sleep first? With Rachel at home, we risk a very happy two-year-old climbing all over Mommy. I don’t think Abby is anxious to get back just yet.”

  “It’s all right, Eric. I just need some sleep,” she said from where she lay, turning her head toward him.

  It had been ten days since Eric stepped off the destroyer in homeport, met by his very pregnant wife, Abby, and their two-year-old plump little girl, Rachel, whom he had delivered after rescuing Abby in the middle of nowhere in the Persian Gulf. She had escaped her abductor, Seyed Hossein, the man who’d bought her, kept her, and abused her until, one night, she escaped. She had been eight months pregnant. Abby was a human trafficking success story. Of the women who disappeared in Europe, most were never found again, but Eric had found her and saved her, and she was now his wife.

  Rachel had dark hair and olive skin, and she didn’t resemble Eric at all, with only hints of Abby. She was the only reminder of what Abby had survived, and Eric loved the precious little girl as if she were his very own.

  Eric cuddled his son, a light-haired baby who fit in the crook of his arm. He glanced down at Abby, and her eyes were closed. The baby was settled and seemed so comfortable, as if he knew his daddy would always keep him safe. His tiny hand rested over his eyes, and he started to work his lips.

  Eric was about to wake Abby when the doctor said, “No, let her sleep. The baby’s good. We’ll send him into the nursery, and the nurses can give him a supplement of formula if he needs it.”

  There was a tap on the door, and a nurse poked her head in. “Captain Hamilton, there are people out here to see you.”

  Eric started to the door because he knew who was out there. “Well, let me go show off my son,” he said, heading to meet his old friend Joe, who was his current XO, and his wife, Mary-Margaret.

  * * *

  She could smell the blood, the antiseptic, and hear voices: deep, low, close whispers. She told herself to pretend to be asleep, to concentrate, to keep breathing in and out, nice and easy. She relaxed her eyelids. She couldn’t let them see she was awake. The floor squeaked with footsteps, and the door closed. She heard someone walking away just outside the door, but she also knew someone was still there, waiting quietly in the corner. She felt as if she had suddenly been thrown into the middle of a cat-and-mouse game, and she could feel the room, the locked door, the stiff mattress she lay on. She was so cold, and, try as she might, she couldn’t stop the chill that racked her body. She trembled.

  A hand touched her, and she jumped. Her eyes flew open, and she gasped at the dark-haired woman standing over her. Who was she? Where was she? She winced as she sat up. The woman’s hand was still on her shoulder, and she took in the small, box-like hospital room. It was dim, though the curtains were open.

  “Are you okay?” the woman asked. She was wearing a pink scrub top, and Abby stared at the V cut of the neck and wondered why the woman hadn’t covered herself. She had pale bare arms, too, and she took Abby’s wrist and glanced at her watch. Abby stared at the door—a locked door, or was it?

  The door opened, and Eric, her tall, dark-haired husband with vibrant blue eyes, entered and frowned. “Abby, you’re awake,” he said. “I just showed off our son to Joe and Mary-Margaret. They’re here now, and they wanted to come in and see you, but I thought you were sleeping.” He glanced down at the tiny baby in his arms. Eric was so happy, as if he was staring at the most precious thing ever. He was so strong, her husband, her man. He was out of uniform, wearing blue jeans and a snug black T-shirt that showed off the finest biceps, triceps, and six-pack abs, as well as the rock-hard chest that had always comforted her.

  She watched as he held his son, and her heart pounded with each step closer he took. She couldn’t take her eyes off the blanket and the bundle he was holding. She couldn’t see it—she didn’t want to see it. She feared the face that would stare back at her. His footsteps became slow and drawn out, and all she could hear was an echo as they came closer. She could feel a pressure on her arm as she stared at the blur in front of her: white, clos
er now. There was a hand on her face, touching her, warm and strong and familiar, and she grabbed hold.

  “Abby! Abby…”

  She could hear him, and she stared into a demanding, strong, and a worried expression. Another man appeared, with glasses and light hair. A light flashed in her eyes, and it burned. She pushed his hand away.

  “I’m okay,” she said to a room that seemed suddenly full of people: nurses, doctors. The lights were on now, bright above her.

  “Abby, what happened?” It was Eric. He was beside her on the bed, his arm around her. She leaned against him, just him, no baby. Then she looked up at the dark-haired nurse holding her son. She pulled back the blanket and the wool cap on his head, and Abby sagged in relief at his light red chubby cheeks and the light hair plastered to his head.

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  Now available THE SAVED SERIES: THE COMPLETE COLLECTION. This boxed set includes all three books in this military suspense series.

  SAVED: "Growing up I had dreams that one day I'd fall in love, get married and start a family. Then one night I was taken. But I survived, I escaped and I was saved. Eric didn't see me as damaged. He didn't see my baby as a monster. He protected me, he kept me safe ... he saved me."

  VANISHED: She thought her nightmare was over

  CAPTURED: Captain Eric Hamilton is now settled on base after giving up his first love, the sea, for his wife, Abby, and their children. He watches day in and day out as his friends are deployed, burning with an empty feeling as if life is passing him by--that is, until his friend Lieutenant Commander Joe Reed is captured while deployed in Iraq.While his family is at home, helpless, Joe's life hangs in the balance, and Eric is forced to make a decision he swore he would never make again: Should he leave Abby and their children to go halfway around the world in search of a friend who may be dead?