Pulling her hat and phone from the pocket, she tugged on the fleece cap and tapped a button on her home screen. She didn’t have time to make a call, not if she wanted to intercept Weeks and Beeks, as she’d decided to call them, but she did have time to hit Record on her favorite transcription app.
Tugging on her jacket as she opened the door to the back porch, she feigned a nonchalance she didn’t feel. She didn’t want to get hurt, or worse, die, but more importantly, she wanted Weeks and Beeks far, far away from Callie.
“Oh!” She startled in mock surprise at seeing two men less than five feet from the steps leading to the covered porch where she stood. Then pretending the movement caused her to slip, she flung her arm out. Reaching for the back of the heavy timber love seat pushed up against the house, she managed to set her phone on the window ledge out of sight from Weeks and Beeks.
“You,” she said, once she had her balance again. She glanced down at her phone. A third of it hung over the ledge, but if no one made any sudden moves, she didn’t think it would fall.
“Us,” Weeks said, the large mole covering his jaw joint moving as he spoke.
She pulled her jacket tight across her torso, crossed her arms, and leaned against the house. “You found me.” That actually did surprise her. She really had thought the chances of them coming after her were low, made even lower by her use of aliases when she traveled.
“Hard to forget a car like yours. Not the one out there now, but the other one,” Weeks said.
“We noticed it a few days ago while we were driving around,” Beeks added.
Well, fuck. She hadn’t thought about that. The perils of having a carport and a unique vehicle.
“So, what now?” she asked.
“Now we go inside and you call your boyfriend to come rescue you.”
She tilted her head. “No, I don’t think so. First, he’s not my boyfriend, and I have no idea how to reach him.” Now that she thought about it, shedidn’thave Lovell’s number. Sure, she could reach him, but that would be through Gabe and then the whole cavalry would show up. Not a bad idea, if only it didn’t include Weeks and Beeks coming into the house first.
“Second, you have no reason to keep me alive after that, so why would I agree?” she said.
Weeks pulled out a gun. Predictable and trite, but no less effective. Panic clawed at her chest, and she hoped her coat hid her shaking hands. Taking a deep breath, she grounded herself, thinking only of protecting Callie. It didn’t take away the fear, but it gave her something stronger to focus on.
“Interesting weapon. Is that a Laugo Alien?” she asked. She knew all sorts of random shit—most writers did—and she recognized the expensive, and not very common, pistol.
“It is,” Weeks said with a lilt to his tone that was either respect for her knowledge or pride in his possession.
“Very efficient,” she said.
“It is,” he said again, lifting it in her direction. A strong gust of wind blew, and both men took a step to the left. Thankfully, she and her phone were protected on the porch.
“Why are you after that guy?” she asked.
“Not your concern,” Beeks replied.
“Since you’re holding a gun on me, I’d say it is my concern.”
“It’s cold as fuck out here. Get inside,” Weeks demanded.
That wasn’t going to happen. “My brother-in-law and eight of his brothers, all of whom are former Special Forces, are coming for dinner in—” She made a show of looking at her watch. “Forty-two minutes.” A lie, but one she hoped would work. In the last four minutes, she’d accepted the fact that she was going to allow/convince them to take her to a secondary location—the one thing women are told over and over to fight against.
When she’d realized who was walking toward her house, the idea had entered her mind, but it had been fleeting and unformed. Now she could see no other way, not if she wanted to protect Callie. It increased her chances of not making it out alive, but as it was, those odds weren’t in her favor anyway. She didn’t want to die; she wanted to explore Mystery Lake with Callie, she wanted to watch her niece or nephew grow up, she wanted a lot of things. And while she wasn’t giving up all those hopes and dreams, she also acknowledged that she’d had a good life, a remarkable one given how it started. And if dying meant protecting her family, then so be it. She’d still fight like hell—it wasn’t in her nature not to—but she wasn’t the priority.
The two men exchanged a look.
“I was coming out for firewood,” she said, gesturing to the woodshed attached to the back of the carport. “The house has good heating, but a fire is always cozy.”
Both men narrowed their eyes. Dressed in full-on black ski gear, a bad choice if they wanted to stay under the radar while walking through a snowstorm, they studied her.
“She’s bullshitting,” Beeks said.
“Every woman knows to never allow a kidnapper, or any kind of shithead, to take her to a secondary location. Why would I lie?” she said.
“Why would you tell us?” Weeks countered. “Most women would see that as their chance to be saved.”
