Countdown (15 page)

“You know your world, James, but I know law enforcement. It takes time for them to follow protocol and go through all the proper channels to get done what you're describing. How long does it take for a satellite like that to orbit into position?”

“Without my calculations nearby, roughly ninety-minutes.”

Mom gaped. “You need to stop that satellite before it launches, not after.”

“Stopping it before it launches would be ideal, but no one is going to listen to a computer guy without any proof. That's why I haven't gone public. My only authoritative source is fighting for his life right now.” He took a deep breath. “Right now, I'm counting on my processes to work and stall the launch.”

Dad studied him. “You're that good.” The way his dad said it wasn't a question but a surprised revelation.

James prayed he didn't underestimate his own skills. “If my work holds, it's going to be much easier to get law enforcement to reexamine the satellite without concrete proof. The biggest priority right now is making sure all my loved ones are safe.”

Mom's eyes widened and her gaze flitted to Rachel. James turned to find Aria and Gabriella wearing smug grins. Rachel looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Oh. Great. They thought he was calling Rachel a loved one. And if he corrected that notion, he'd just make the situation more awkward.

“Daddy, are we safe?” Ethan asked.

James dropped to his knees, his throat raw. He'd let himself get worked up and had said too much around his boys. He didn't want to lie, so he did the only thing he could think of. He opened his arms to hug them.

FIFTEEN

R
achel tossed and turned in the small twin-size bed. It would be her turn to be on lookout within the hour, and so far sleep had evaded her. This time the room décor wasn't the problem. In fact, the room was painted in a soothing sky blue with wooden blinds.

She'd listened to the crashing of the waves for two hours. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the men with guns. And then Caleb and Ethan in her arms, looking up at her with those adorable smiles, which morphed into James's blue eyes staring right into hers. Her heart pounded so hard she sat up.

She'd told herself she could never love a man with an injured heart, but after seeing him with his family she knew he loved them fiercely. The argument no longer held any weight. And the motherhood thing—she felt her resolve slipping, mainly because she was starting to question if her conviction was based on wisdom or fear.

If she became a mom, even a stepmom, wouldn't she have to face her own childhood again to make sure she didn't repeat the same mistakes her parents had made? If she'd understood Beverly right, she seemed to insinuate that everyone dealt with that no matter their past. It was hard to believe.

Forgiveness wasn't holding her back. She'd truly forgiven her parents. At least, she thought she had. Meredith had made Rachel visit her parents in prison once she'd graduated from beauty school and business school.

Neither her mom nor her dad even mentioned her achievements, nor had they expressed any remorse in their own deeds. They blamed the system, her uncle, fellow dealers...anyone but themselves. Instead they asked her to check on a few “business” items. That's when she knew she had to leave, somewhere far away where none of her relatives could try to pull her back into that life.

“It will still hurt,” Meredith had told her after she'd relayed the visit, “but every time it hurts, you take it to God. You take the hurt to Him and then choose to forgive.”

She'd lost track of how many nights she'd stared at the ceiling as she was doing right now and whispered, “I choose to forgive.” Meredith was right. The pain had almost completely dissipated. Especially the last couple of days. Why was that? Was it seeing the twins surrounded by so much love? Seeing the way the McGuire brothers interacted as a family?

The last thing she wanted was to question her conviction because she was starting to fall for James McGuire. Which brought her back to her original question. Was her conviction to never be a mom based on wisdom or fear? Or was she about to play the justification game? If only Meredith was still alive for her to ask. She knew what Meredith would say, though.
Take it to God.

She closed her eyes again and prayed.

Her arm shook gently. “Rachel?”

She jerked and almost slammed her forehead into James. She must have dozed off while praying. “What time is it?” she asked, looking around. “Did I miss my shift?”

“No. It's early,” he whispered. “Not even five in the morning. Something's happened. Mom disregarded my concerns and made a phone call last night while Dad was on duty. She used a gas station down the road and called the FBI.”

That woke her up. Her head pounded. “But you told her not to.”

“Both David and Luke found themselves in dangerous situations. Each time, at the last minute, Mom helped by calling in favors. I think she thought she was doing the right thing.”

Dread settled in her gut. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I saw a black sedan driving through the neighborhood. They were heading in the direction of the gas station. Dad admitted what she'd done.” A ragged sigh escaped his lips. “At least she didn't call from the house.”

“It could just be a black sedan.”

“If she called at midnight, it'd fit the timeline of the drive time. I can't take the chance that it's not them. I need to get everyone out of here before it's too late. Get ready and meet me in the kitchen as fast as you can.”

She'd slept in a pair of sweats Gabriella had loaned her, so she ran to the bathroom, splashed some water in her face, brushed her teeth, pulled her hair back into a loose braid and grabbed her shoes. Her hands shook at the thought of facing the men with guns again.

Everyone but the twins sat at the kitchen table in loungewear and messed-up hair.

James surveyed the group. “So it's possible the crooked NSA agents I told you about have tracked us down. Mom, Dad told me you made a call. I need to know every detail. Don't leave anything out.”

Mom stared up at him, her face ashen. “You have an appointment today at noon at the FBI office in Santa Maria. I made sure to use a public phone, and I never mentioned you by name.”

“But you had to mention your name, right, Mom?”

Her shoulders sank as she nodded. “I'm sorry, James, but I knew I would have to pull a lot of strings to get someone to open up the offices on a Sunday. Most of my contacts have all retired. But I found someone who promised they would listen to you.”

“Where exactly did you make the call, Mom?”

“There was a pay phone in front of the gas station near the dunes. I'm sorry, James. I really am.”

James pulled his hands into fists and exhaled. “You were doing what you thought was best, as am I.” James turned to David and Luke. “I need one of you to grab the boys and go.”

Gabriella jumped out of her chair. “I'll wake the boys and get them dressed.”

Aria joined her.

David exhaled. “I need to stay around here for a while longer, bro, or my chances at getting the conference center acquisition go through the window.”

“Your life isn't worth the risk,” James said.

“Agreed, but how do you know it's actually at risk?”

He asked his mom to repeat everything she'd said on the phone. After she relayed it, his dad, Luke, David and James argued over the options until they formed a plan. Luke would take Gabriella, Aria and the boys somewhere far away to hide.

“Don't even tell me where,” James said. “I don't want to know until this is all over. Just keep them safe.”

His parents and David would take the other truck and drive out of town, somewhere north, and hang out there until early afternoon. As long as there weren't any signs of trouble, David would still go to his appointment while his parents packed up and shut down the beach house properly.

“I want you to go with them,” James said to Rachel. “When this is all over, I'll come back for you and get you back home.”

Her eyes widened. “No. I'm going with you to that FBI appointment. You said you'd have a hard time convincing them.” She pointed to her shoulder. “Well, I can help. Hard to ignore a gunshot wound. Besides, I'm an eyewitness to the kidnapping attempts. Last I heard, kidnapping's still in the FBI's jurisdiction, and maybe, by association, that would justify investigating Launch Operations. I can help you get these guys.”

James shook his head. “No. I'm leaving in two minutes and heading toward that gas station to keep an eye on the men while they get ready to leave. If they so much as head this way, I'm going to distract them.”

“Two heads are better than one,” she retorted. “Besides, I have a weapon.”

“Which is another reason you should go with my parents,” James added.

“I'm carrying,” David said.

James's eyes bulged. “Since when?”

“Since I faced the Russian mafia. Pretty sure Luke and Gabriella both have concealed carry permits after their bout with the Mirabella family.”

Rachel grabbed her purse and slung it diagonally across her torso. “What are we waiting for?”

* * *

James had never been so frustrated at his family and the situation. Ultimately he only had himself to blame. Luke stood guard at the living room window, watching the street. All the lights in the house stayed off except for the light underneath the oven hood in the kitchen.

The boys came out, sleepy but smiling. James leaned down and hugged them. “You're going to go on a fun trip with Uncle Luke and your aunts. Okay? And Daddy will try to join you real soon.”

Caleb turned to Rachel. “Are you coming?”

Rachel leaned forward. “Not this time. Hopefully I'll see you soon back at our own houses.” Her eyes shone. “Can I have a hug to hold me over?”

Caleb and Ethan didn't hesitate. They ran into her arms. As her head bent down to embrace them, James found it hard to breathe.

She straightened. “We need to go.”

Before he could argue with her, she darted out the back door onto the deck. He looked over his shoulder to find a sympathetic David patting his back. “Seems like we attract strong women. Go keep each other safe.” He squeezed James's shoulder. “I'm counting on hearing from you once you arrive at the FBI appointment.”

James nodded and followed Rachel. The least he could do was make sure his family could get away without any trouble. She waited for him by the white van with one hand inside her purse, presumably on her gun.

He left the lights off and drove down the street toward the gas station.

“What's the plan?”

He blew out a breath. “I have no idea.”

She pointed to a black sedan parked in the shadows, a block ahead near the gas station. “There it is,” she whispered. “James, do you see them anywhere?”

“Not yet.”

She pulled out her scissors from her purse. Her eyes glistened in the moonlight. “Think you can use these to puncture the tires?”

He stared at them. They were the same ones so expensive she hesitated to let anyone use them. “Won't it ruin them?”

She shrugged. “I'd say it's worth it to keep them from shooting anyone else.”

He reached for the pair, but his hand froze over hers. Her soft skin sent warmth shooting up his arm. Once again she was willing to sacrifice for him, for his family. His brow furrowed at a thought. “If I do this, they'll know for sure we're here.”

She looked down at his hand. He couldn't be sure in the darkness but it almost seemed like she blushed.

“The way I see it they already know we're in the area. This just takes away their ability to follow us.”

He nodded. The reasoning was sound. “Okay. Wait here.”

She followed him out of the vehicle. “You're supposed to be the analytical one. It's smarter to have a lookout.”

He let out a soft growl. He just wanted to keep her safe. They squatted down at the back of the car. He gripped the middle of the shears. “Are we sure this is their car?” he asked.

Her eyes widened. “I'd say so. They're coming this way. Hurry. You've only got about thirty seconds before they spot us.”

“I thought I'd have more time. Stay back.” The math calculations of the tire pressure and the best place to puncture the tires ran through his head. He turned away from the tire and slammed his fist backward until he felt the blade make contact. A hiss rewarded his effort. He scurried to the front tire and repeated the step.

“Hey!” One of the men sprinted toward the car. The other man pulled out his gun.

“Time's up,” Rachel said.

That was an understatement. He grabbed the wrist of her uninjured arm and pulled her into the shadows in between two darkened tourist gift shops.

“Don't hit him. Aim for her,” the man yelled at the shooter.

A gunshot rang out. James pulled her wrist so she would duck as he did, but they kept running for the beach. “Did you get hit?”

“No. Don't think they could see us in the shadows.” She panted and pulled her wrist out of his hand as she grabbed the stair handles. “Are you sure we should head for the beach?”

“Yes. Counting on using the sea stacks.”

“What?” She yelled as she kept running.

“Intertidal—big ocean rocks!” James pulled his weapon out but didn't slow his pace. He pointed the gun straight in the air and pulled the trigger.

Rachel leaped for the sand and ran sideways, her crazed eyes meeting his. “What was that for?”

“To make them hesitate for a second. Think we're shooting back at them.” He shoved the gun back in his waistband and ran alongside her. They barely made it to the shadows of the giant dunes in the distance before he heard the thudding of loafers hitting the wooden beach stairs.

The crash of the waves sounded so much more powerful down at this level. The wind blew the small wisps of hair hanging around Rachel's face. The full moon shone bright, peeking through the clouds. It reflected off the deep waters of the ocean. The sand dunes did good work keeping them in shadows, though. They ran shoulder to shoulder. He sucked in the salty air. Running on the loose, coarse sand was harder than he imagined.

“See the rocks ahead? We just need to get behind them. If we run closer to the water, the sand will be firmer.” He grabbed her arm and led her. James pulled her in between an outcropping of rocks, half on the shore, half in the water.

The sounds of crashing waves and wind made it harder to hear what was happening, but it also meant that there was no way the men could hear them. “What are we doing?” she asked, her mouth close to his ear.

He tilted his face toward hers. “Hiding. But I can see them while they can't see us, and if I need to shoot, I will. We have the advantage under this covering.”

His blood ran hot remembering what the man had shouted. He should've never let Rachel come. If he could rely on the men to act honorably, he could surrender himself and make them give their word to leave Rachel alone. But how could he trust men who betrayed their country, who purposefully aimed to shoot a woman?

Rachel shivered, either from shock or fighting against the chill the wind brought in the early morning. It had to be barely fifty degrees, if that. His hand drifted, on instinct, and held her hand.

A loud splash sounded in the ocean. Rachel flinched and bumped into James.

“It's seals,” he whispered into her ear. “They hang out on that outcropping behind us. They're diving for their breakfast, I think.”