Running for Cover (18 page)

J
ackson crouched in the shadows of the trees, frowning as the car maneuvered into a U-turn. He wanted nothing more than to jump up, race forward and yank open Morgan’s door, pulling her out and back to safety.

But saving her might mean losing Lauren, and Jackson knew Morgan wouldn’t thank him for it. He wouldn’t thank himself for it, either. So he waited, anger simmering at a low heat in his gut, his muscles tense with fear and frustration as he noted the details of the car. A Toyota. Two-door. Late model. License plate splattered with mud and only partially visible. XL-something. Turning left at the highway, heading toward Spokane.

He pulled out his cell phone, calling the local police chief and filling him in on the situation, giving him the information and ignoring the man’s orders to stay put. No way was he going to do that.

Morgan should have told him she’d gotten the call. Should have given him five minutes to come up with a plan. Instead, she’d jumped headfirst into action. No plan. No discussion. Which left Jackson with no choice but to try to follow along, see if he could keep the situation from escalating.

Behind him, a car approached, tires rolling along the dirt.
Slow and cautious. Lights off. Just the way Jackson had told Morgan’s father to come.

He straightened, motioning for Richard to pull forward, then hurried to the driver’s side of the car. “Mind if I drive?”

“I don’t care who drives as long as we find my daughters.” He maneuvered over the gear shift and into the passenger seat, leaning forward and staring out the window. “Did you see them? Did you see Lauren?”

“I’m afraid not, but I did see the car and I know what direction it’s headed.”

“That’s something, I guess.”

Jackson pulled out onto the road, flipping on the headlights and picking up speed. The traffic on this part of the freeway was sparse, but up ahead, several cars kept pace with one another. Jackson closed the gap between them. Not hurrying, but not holding back.

At the front of the pack, the quarry was gaining speed. Jackson eased up on the accelerator, not wanting to catch up. All he needed to do was keep the car in his sight. Ten miles. Fifteen. Twenty. The car stayed in front of them, keeping a steady speed. Not doing anything that would get the driver noticed by the police.

“When I get my hands on that daughter of mine, I’m going to give her a piece of my mind. Going off like this. Not letting any of us know what she was up to,” Richard muttered, breaking the silence, the worry in his voice obvious.

“Has she always been like this?”

“Impulsive? Yes. She’d make a decision and go off and follow through on it without thinking of the consequences. Got her into a boatload of trouble when she was in high school. Got her married to the jerk. She’s matured a lot through that, though. God has a way of helping us grow through the tough times.”

“I’m sure knowing that didn’t make you any happier to see Morgan marry a guy like Cody.”

“No, and it doesn’t make me any happier to know she went running from the house rather than coming to us. I just pray that she and Lauren will be okay,” Richard replied, leaning forward. “Is that the car? The Toyota?”

“Yes. And it looks like he’s going to exit the highway.”

“Heading into town. Not the best area to take a ride, though.”

“Maybe not, but at least there’s traffic moving through it. That makes it easier for us to keep from being spotted.” Jackson followed the car through the busy downtown area, hanging back as it turned onto a quieter side street. Boarded-up buildings lined the road, and he expected the car to stop in front of one. Instead, it kept going, up a steep hill and into a neighborhood of 1920s homes.

Jackson put on his blinker and pulled into a driveway, waiting as the car turned onto another street. Then he pulled out again, this time with his headlights off.

The Toyota was several blocks away as Jackson turned, and he followed slowly, hoping the darkness was enough to hide his approach.

The driver turned into the driveway of a run-down house, and Jackson braked, easing the car to the side of the road and cutting the engine. Several minutes passed before the car door opened and a man got out, rounded the car and opened the passenger door.

Jackson tensed, watching as Morgan got out of the car. She didn’t fight as she was yanked to the house and shoved inside. Jackson’s jaw clenched with anger, and he opened the car door.

“Call the police. Let them know where we are.”

“You don’t think I’m going to sit here waiting while you go save my daughters?”

“The fewer people we’ve got in danger, the better.” He tossed his cell phone in Richard’s direction and got out of the car.

He didn’t wait to see if Richard was going to go along with
the plan, just jogged up the street, eased up to the house Morgan had entered.

She was inside with two men who wouldn’t hesitate to kill her, and Jackson was outside without a weapon. Somehow, he needed to even the odds. Put himself at the advantage. And he had to do it
before
the police showed up and pushed the two men into action. He crouched low, easing through the dark yard and around to the back of the house, searching for a way in.

An old-fashioned cellar door lay flat against the ground, the hinges rusted. If there was a lock, Jackson couldn’t see it. Fear pounded a hollow beat in his throat as he tried to lift the door, finally managed to wrestle it open, wincing as the old hinges creaked in protest.

Stairs led down into the pitch-black cellar, and Jackson moved with caution, lowering the door carefully, not daring to keep it open. Seven steps down, the thick, musty scent of rotting wood and mold filled his nose. Voices carried through the darkness, faint and barely audible. Good. They were still going about their business, unaware that he’d arrived. Across the room, light spilled from a door at the top of rickety steps.

He walked toward it, freezing when something grunted in the blackness to his right.
Someone
grunted.

A woman?

Lauren?

He turned, feeling his way through the inky blackness, nearly falling over someone lying on the floor.

He knelt down, touching soft cloth and cool flesh, running his hand down arms bound with duct tape. “Lauren?”

She grunted, bumping against his questing hand, apparently trying to hurry him along.

“Hold on. I’ll untie you.” He found the edge of the tape, tore at it for what seemed like an hour but was probably only five
minutes. Finally it loosened, and he was able to rip it from her wrists. She gave a muffled yelp.

“Sorry.”

Seconds later, he heard the sound of more tape being torn away from flesh. Another quiet yelp. And Lauren’s voice, husky and dry. “It took you long enough to get here.”

“Sorry, kid. We had a little trouble finding you. Come on, let’s get you to your feet and get out of here.”

“My ankles are taped, too. The tape is tighter than what was on my mouth. My fingers are too numb to get it off.” There was an edge of panic to her voice, and Jackson put a hand on her arm.

“It’s okay, Lauren. I’ll help.”

“But what if they come back? What if…” Footsteps tapped on the ceiling above their heads. “That’s them. They’re coming. I always hear the footsteps before the door opens.”

“Lie down, hands behind your back. Whatever happens, don’t let them know you’re untied.” He hoped she understood. Hoped that she’d do what he said.

There was no time to make sure. Just as she’d said, the door was opening. Jackson slid into the shadows beneath the stairs, waiting. Praying for an opportunity to act. Praying that Lauren wouldn’t give him away.

“How about you spend a little time with your sister while we make sure the disk is what we’ve been looking for?” someone said.

“Whether it is or not, you’re still going to end up in jail. No way will you get out of town without being found.” Morgan’s voice sounded shaky and unsure, and Jackson’s muscles tensed. What had happened since she’d gotten in their car? Had she been hurt again?

“If you knew who was backing us, you wouldn’t be saying that. He’s got money. Plenty of it, and getting us out of town isn’t going to be a problem for him.”

“Unless he decides he doesn’t need you to make it out of town. Maybe he’ll just have your buddy bring him the disk and leave you here to rot. Then you’ll end up in jail like my ex, while whoever hired you goes on with his life. Give it a year and you’ll be dead. Just like Cody.”

“Shut up!” A harsh slap followed the command, and Morgan shrieked, the sound echoing through the cellar as she tumbled down the steps, landing in a heap on the floor.

The door slammed, and Jackson lunged forward, scooping Morgan into his arms and knowing it was the worst thing he could do if she had a neck or head injury. “Morgan! Are you okay?”

“I will be once you stop smothering me.” Her voice shook, and he could feel her heart pounding frantically. He eased his grip, his hands shaking as he cupped her face in his hands, tried to see through the darkness. Make sure she really was okay.

“I hate to break up the reunion, but I still can’t get this tape off my ankles,” Lauren whispered, and the fear in her voice spurred Jackson to action. He moved quickly, lifting Morgan and carrying her across the room to her sister.

“Hey, I can walk.”

“But you don’t have to. Sit here while I get your sister ready to go.” It took too long to find the ends of the tape, to unwind the tight bonds from Lauren’s ankles. Each minute seemed like an hour, the time ticking in Jackson’s head, reminding him that at any moment Lauren and Morgan’s captors could return.

Were the police outside, waiting for a chance to bring both men down?

Jackson wasn’t going to wait to find out.

He ripped the last piece of tape from Lauren’s ankles, patted her foot. “That’s it, kid. You’re free. Think you can walk?”

“I can’t feel my lower legs, but I’ll try.”

“Jackson can carry you. I can make it out myself,” Morgan said, and Jackson could hear her shifting, getting to her feet.

“Works for me.” Jackson lifted Lauren’s trembling body, was across the room, heading up the steps to the back door when the floor above their heads creaked. He shoved at the heavy door, forced the rusted hinges to move again. Finally, it opened and he set Lauren outside as the other door opened and light spilled into the darkness.

“Hey! What’s going on?”

“Look out!” Morgan screamed the warning as Jackson turned, saw the gun aimed at his head. He dove to the side too late. Knew the bullet would find its target.

Morgan moved, leaping into the line of fire, flying backward as the first report exploded through the room.

Somewhere above glass shattered. Men shouted. Another gun exploded, but Jackson’s focus was on Morgan, lying in the shadows, blood pooling beneath her, spilling across the dirt-covered floor.

Dead?

Fear and rage filled him, and he ran to her, ignoring the sound of boots pounding above his head, the next sharp report. The clatter and thud as the gunman who’d shot Morgan fell.

Please, God, don’t let me lose someone else
.

The prayer filled his mind, filled his soul as he ripped off his jacket and pressed it hard against the bleeding wound in Morgan’s chest.

P
ain pulled Morgan from silky blackness.

Pain and the sound of someone crying. The quiet rumble of voices. A door closing.

She opened her eyes, groaning as bright light drilled hot pokers into her head.

“Morgan? Can you hear me?” Jackson spoke quietly, his voice pulling her further out of the darkness, and she turned her head. Met his eyes. Felt something inside her shift. Something cold grow warm.

“Is someone crying?”

“Your mother was. Your dad just took her to get some coffee. They’ll be back in a minute.” His fingers traced a gentle line down her cheek, his palm coming to rest on her shoulder. Light. Warm. Comforting. She wanted to close her eyes again, sink back into unconsciousness.

“Are you planning on leaving again so soon? And here I’ve been waiting two days to look into those beautiful eyes,” he whispered into her ear, his breath tickling her flesh, drawing her back from the edge of darkness.

Two days?

Morgan opened eyes she hadn’t even realized she’d closed, blinked, trying to clear her mind.

“I’ve been here for two days?” Her throat felt hot and sore, and she swallowed hard.

“You went into surgery Sunday night. It’s late Tuesday.”

“It seemed like just a minute ago….” What? She remembered terror. Remembered Lauren’s trembling voice. Jackson’s grim one.

Had the unthinkable happened?

Had Lauren died?

“Why was Mom crying? It’s not Lauren, is it? She isn’t…”

“Lauren is fine. She’s got a few bruises, but nothing that won’t heal. Your mom was crying because she’s been worried sick about you. We all have been.”

“I’m okay.” She tried to struggle up, but he pressed her back, his touch as light as a butterfly’s wing.

“Your clavicle was shattered, and you nearly bled to death. You need to stay still and rest until the doctor tells you differently.”

“I’m sorry I worried everyone.”

“
Worried
is an understatement. Remind me to lecture you on throwing yourself in front of a bullet once you’ve recovered.” His tone was light, but the concern in his gaze was unmistakable.

“Is that what I did?” The last thing she remembered was tumbling down a flight of steps, hearing Jackson’s voice, feeling his arms around her. Hearing Lauren’s voice.

Then nothing. Just darkness. And pain.

“You saved my life, Morgan.”

“I guess I owed you.” Despite her best efforts to keep them open, her eyes closed again. She blinked, tried to focus on Jackson. “What happened? The two men who grabbed Lauren, are they in jail?”

Jackson hesitated, then shook his head. “They’re both dead. Killed by the police.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know who hired them.” She
wanted to care, but her body was leaden, her mind fuzzy, the pain that had woken her beginning to fade. Warm contentment taking its place.

“Actually, the police have made an arrest. A circuit court judge in New York City. Edward Santino. He’s from a wealthy family. Inherited his father’s estate when he was young.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“You would have eventually. He was being groomed to run for Senate. Probably would have made an appearance in next year’s polls.”

“What does that have to do with Cody?”

“We think that Santino was on a local drug cartel’s payroll, accepting bribes in exchange for lighter sentences. There’ve been a half dozen drug dealers who walked on technicalities during Santino’s time on the bench. The New York State attorney general is investigating, but it looks like Santino has been responsible for a lot of very bad men going free. The disk Cody sent to Shannon listed several offshore accounts where Santino was hiding funds. No proof yet where those funds came from, but there’s no doubt the police will find it.”

“So Cody decided to blackmail him in the hope that Santino could get him out of prison?”

“Get him out or find a way to shorten his sentence. We’re not sure which. Not surprisingly, Santino isn’t cooperating with the police.”

“With Cody dead, he’s probably hoping there won’t be enough evidence to convict him,” Morgan said, tired, but relieved to have answers. To know at least some of the truth.

To know that Lauren was alive and safe.

That her family was together.

They were good things, and Morgan smiled, her eyes closing again.

She opened them quickly, almost afraid that she’d wake up and find that it was all a dream. That the nightmare wasn’t over.

“It’s okay. Rest for a while,” Jackson said, his lips brushing her cheek.

“I’m afraid to. What if I wake up and I’m back in that cellar in Spokane? Or still in my apartment, blood all over my kitchen floor?”

What if I wake up and you’re not here?

She wanted to say it, but the words caught in her throat and she could only stare into his eyes, will him to be there when she woke.

“You won’t be. It’s over. And when you wake up, you’ll still be here in the hospital, and your family will be waiting to chew you out for taking so many risks.”

“In that case, maybe being unconscious has some benefits.”

Jackson laughed and shook his head. “I’m glad to see that nearly dying hasn’t ruined your sense of humor, because there’s something else I need to tell you.”

“What?”

“I’ve got a lead on your brother.”

“My brother?” She had three and didn’t know why he’d need to have a lead on any of them.

Unless he meant Nikolai.

At the thought, Morgan’s heart jumped and her muscles tensed. “You mean Nikolai?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve found him?”

“Not yet, but I’m getting close. I found his adoptive family. They live in Florida. Your brother is in the military and they haven’t heard from him in two years.”

“That’s a long time.”

“They’re as anxious for me to find him as you are.”

“You’re sure it’s him?”

“I’m sure. I traced him from Latvia to an adoptive family in Utah, then into foster care and to the family in Florida.”

“He had two adoptive families?”

“The first placement was disrupted. Things didn’t work out.”

“Poor Nikolai. I wonder if that’s why he’s disappeared.”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out. And while I do, I want you to rest and heal. I’ve got some canoeing to do when I get back to Lakeview, and I want to take you with me when I do it,” Jackson said, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Canoeing?”

“There’s nothing more romantic than the lake at sunrise.”

“Jackson—”

“It’s okay if you’re not sure, Morgan. It’s okay if you’re scared. Your ex was a jerk, and I know you need time and space to heal from that, but I can’t turn my back on you. I can’t walk away and forget the way I feel when I look into your eyes. I think God brought us together for a reason. I’m willing to take as much time as we need to figure out what that is.”

Morgan tensed. Jackson was right. She was scared. To hope. To believe. To trust that what she felt when she was with him was real and right and good.

But moving forward meant letting go of the past. It meant being in the moment, embracing what was, rather than longing for what could have been.

The pastor had said that two days ago, and the words seemed truer now than ever.

She took a deep breath, looking into Jackson’s eyes, seeing a future she’d never dared to dream of. “You’re right.”

“About what?”

“About sunrise on the lake. There’s nothing more romantic, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be there to watch it with than you.”

Jackson smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips, the touch as sweet and gentle as the first rays of sun falling across the morning sky, whispering of hope, of love and of the one thing Morgan had always wanted but never quite found—home.