It wasn't like she wanted to feel this way, because she absolutely did not. It made her feel like the worst sister in the world. She was genuinely happy for her big brother, she didn't want him not to have built the amazing life he had for himself. She just kept wondering when she was going to get that same chance at happiness.
Or if she ever was.
Lost in thought as she was, Ashlyn didn't realize anyone was behind her until she felt a body step up close.
Too close.
Quickly spinning around, she took a stumbling step backward when she saw a man standing there. He wore black jeans and a black hoodie with the hood pulled down low, covering most of his face. There were stains on his clothes, he smelled strongly of cigarette smoke, he had a scraggly beard, one of his shoes was missing, and she got a bad feeling.
“Oh, uh, did you need … money?” she asked, her voice trembling a little. As well as running her own jewelry brand, she did a lot of work for charities, and she had no problem donating to homeless men and women, she did it often. But this man was giving off a vibe that she didn't like one little bit.
“Yeah, money,” he snarled, lifting his head so she could catch a glimpse of more of his face. There was a coldness in his blue eyes that had her taking another stumbling step backward.
“I have money.” Scrambling into her purse, she found the emergency money she always carried in case she came acrosssomeone in need. Handing over the crisp hundred-dollar bill, she took another step back. “If you need more help, please come to the shelter on Hemlock Street and tell them Ashlyn sent you.”
As she tried to turn and hurry to her car, a hand darted out and grabbed hold of her elbow, yanking her backward and up against a hard chest. Her breathing accelerated, and everything she’d ever learned in self-defence classes flew from her mind, leaving her frozen in place.
“I think I have a better idea,” the man growled, his breath hot against the back of her neck. “I think you're going to drive me to the bank, drain your account, and then give me all your jewelry. Might take your body, too.” The hand not gripping her suddenly produced a knife, and he trailed the tip of it up one of her jean-clad thighs, then tried to nudge it between her legs, making her yelp in terror.
The man just laughed, then moved the knife so it was against her neck.
Never in her life had Ashlyn felt as absolutely vulnerable as she did in this moment.
“Let’s go, princess, which one’s your chariot?” the man demanded, and not knowing what else to do, she pointed to her Porsche and prayed for a miracle as he began to march her toward it.
Chapter
Four
May 9th
2:39 P.M.
Something was off.
Grant had stopped at the Eat Dessert First to grab something to bring home for the kids tonight. They’d both gotten great grades on their report cards, it was almost summer vacation time, and he wanted to do something to celebrate.
Then, as he’d been about to head inside, he’d noticed a woman in jeans and a bright pink sweater talking to a man in dark jeans and a black hoodie. Their interaction looked tense, and he wondered if it was some sort of drug deal. The guy could definitely be a dealer, and while the blonde looked too sweet and innocent to be caught buying drugs in a restaurant parking lot, if there was one thing he’d learned in his years as a cop, it was that looks could be deceiving.
Just because the blonde looked innocent didn't mean it was true.
When he saw the woman search in her purse and pull out money, he knew that something was indeed going on andrealized buying treats for his kids was going to have to wait. Today was his day off, but he was a cop, he always carried, and he wasn't going to walk away from a drug deal just because he wasn't supposed to be working today.
Only as he walked closer, he watched the man grab the woman as she tried to step away from him. The man yanked her up against his body, and while he couldn’t see what was happening from this angle, because now both their backs were to him, he’d seen the fear in the woman’s face.
Drug deal or mugging?
About to shout out an order for them to freeze, he could get them both in handcuffs and then sort out what was going on once backup arrived, he saw the glint of a knife catch in the sunlight, then press against the woman’s neck as they both started moving.
Kidnapping.
Picking up the pace, he darted around a couple of cars, hoping to come out in front of the pair, but they stopped in front of a Porsche, and the woman fumbled in her purse for keys. Knowing this could go really bad, really quickly, Grant pulled out his cell phone, dialed 911, and then dropped his phone on the ground.
The open-ended call would have dispatch sending a patrol car to check things out, but while he waited for backup he was going to have to make his move.
“Going to need you to move the knife from the lady’s throat,” Grant announced, weapon held in steady hands as he moved in closer to where the man in the hoodie was trying to shove the woman in pink into the driver’s seat of her car.
Both of them startled, and when the woman’s light blue eyes met his, her mouth dropped open in shock, and his steady hands began to tremble.
