I’ve heard you shouldn’t scream “Help me!” because people will ignore it, maybe thinking that you’re playing some kind of game, or maybe just not caring because you’re a stranger. According to our safety training, you should yell “Fire!” which is something more likely to bring people running. That might be good advice, but instead I find myself shouting the only word that I’m confident will bring someone racing to my rescue.
“Thad!”
I shout his name again and again, praying that he didn’t change his mind and go inside, or that he isn’t sitting in the car with the radio turned on, drowning out my cries.
And while I’m screaming, I make myself the biggest possible menace to hold on to. I kick. I hit. I scratch. I wave my arms like a windmill. I make my body go limp. I drag my feet. Anything I can think of to keep this man from getting me into the car.
I have at the very least succeeded in pissing my captor off. “Hey, cut it out! Larry!”
The guy in the driver’s seat starts to get out. Knowing I have to move quickly, I do the only thing I can think of and bite the arm of the guy who’s holding me.
“Ow! You bitch!”
He releases me and backhands me, hard. It takes me by such surprise that I lose my balance and hit the asphalt.
“Hey!”
I open my eyes to see Thad rushing onto the scene, his face like nothing I’ve ever seen before. He is a storm cloud, a vengeful god. He is shouting a string of swear words like a war cry. He is Achilles, demigod and powerful warrior, exacting his revenge on Hector.
The way he moves is incredible. I know, this is kind of a bizarre thing to notice as I’m lying on the ground after almost being kidnapped by two mobsters who are after my brother. Maybe I’m in shock? All I know is I’ve never seen anything like this before, outside of those WWE matches Dean used to watch when we were teens. Thad half rolls, half propels himself across the hood of the car so he can get to the guy who threw me down. He seamlessly transitions this into springing onto the guy and tackling him to the ground.
The mafia guy is pressed down flat on his stomach with Thad on top of him, but still I warn him, “He has a gun in his coat.”
Thad fishes it out and aims it toward the other guy, Larry, who’s been edging back into the car. “Stay right there.”
With the driver-side door still open, Larry starts the engine.
“Shit.” Thad scrambles to his feet, pulling the other mobster along with him, aiming the gun at his temple. “Helen, get behind me, now!”
I do as he says, and realize why as soon as I’m on my feet. There’s a very real possibility that the guy in the car will drive it forward and try to run us over. Thad’s gambling that he won’t want to kill the mobster Thad’s holding hostage, but it’s a bluff. There’s no way to know which way this will go.
For one tense, breath-holding moment, Larry stares us down. Then abruptly, he backs the car up, swinging it around so he can drive off. Before he rounds the corner, he reaches out and pulls the driver-side door shut.
“Shit,” Thad says again, but there’s relief in his voice. It would have been better, sure, if he could have apprehended the other guy, too, but at least we’re all still standing. “Helen, I need you to reach in my pocket and get out my phone. Passcode is 11-22-33.”
The mob guy snorts. “Original.”
Thad ignores him. “Call the police and tell them where we are.”
I move to do as he instructs. As I reach into his pocket, our gazes meet. Thad’s eyes roam over my face, searching, before catching my gaze again. He swallows. “You okay?”
My first instinct is to say something reassuring, to ease that almost furious worry on his face. But the mobster can hear everything we’re saying, and I was seconds away from being kidnapped. As the weight of this catches up to me, I realize if I try to say anything, I’ll burst into tears, and I really don’t want the mobster to see that. It seems important for some reason that he never knows just how much he scared me.
Thad must see all of this on my face, because he nods to me like he understands, and tightens his grip on the mobster as I take a few steps away to call the police. “Hello? I need to report an attempted kidnapping…”
Chapter 28
Thad
The police arrive pretty quickly, but it takes forever to sort through everything, give our testimonies, show them my documents. The whole time Helen’s in my line of sight, but she’s not right here next to me, and I need her right here next to me. I need to touch her, to reassure myself she’s okay and whole and not too damaged. I need to ask her if she’s all right without anyone around listening, and look into her eyes when I tell her I’m not going to let anything happen to her, she’s safe with me.
By the time they give us the all clear, it’s obvious we aren’t going to get back on the road today. Helen looks exhausted; I can see the adrenaline is starting to wear off and she’s about ready to slump over. I need to get her to a hotel—arealhotel this time, with a security officer I can give clear instructions to and a door with a deadlock—and let her rest and recover. She might even want to fly home after what happened today. The thought makes my throat feel tight, but I’ll respect whatever she wants to do. Whatever makes her feel safe.
I know Helen must still be a little shell-shocked because she doesn’t say anything when we pull up to the Battle House Renaissance Hotel and I hand off my keys to the valet. A few steps up from the Road View Inn, no?
I go to ask for one room again, knowing there’s no way I’ll sleep tonight if she’s in a different room, but I stop myself. I don’t want to take any choices away from her, not again. Clearing my throat, I turn to her. “Do you want your own room or?—”
“No.” Her voice is quiet, and she curls her fingers into my jacket, holding me close. “I’d rather not be alone. If you don’t mind.”
