Holiday Illusion (17 page)

He crept closer, closing in on her. Only this time she waited. She had to get out of this herself. No one knew she was here.
Please God, show me what to do.

Pulse pounding, she forced herself to wait. To be patient, regulate her breathing. One more step. Godfrey kicked a stray golf ball, the clatter of which almost startled her into a scream. She choked it back.

“Come on Anna, where are you?”

Hoping the tire hid her feet should he look under the car, she waited. Labeled boxes, still unpacked almost a year after Godfrey's and Dahlia's move, lined the wall. Some were stacked as tall as she was, and provided some shelter from his view. He couldn't look around them, nor under them.

Cautious, she felt him coming, the hairs on her neck standing up in warning.

Then she bolted. A shot rang out, pinged off the top of the Jaguar and hit the wall above her head. She slammed the garage door opener with her palm, then ducked back down. The door slid open to the sound of Godfrey's curses. She couldn't get out yet, she'd be too exposed. But maybe with the door open he'd lose a little of that iron control and extreme confidence.

With the end of the golf club, not raising her head, she used the rubber handle to punch in the code to bring the police. Another shot sounded and hit the code box.

Had she pushed the buttons in time? Pulling the golf club back down to her, she heard Godfrey rounding the car. This time instead of running she surprised him, met him face-to-face, looked into his mad, empty eyes, then swung the club as hard as she could. It caught his hand. “Ah!”

The weapon tumbled from his suddenly numb fingers, which is what she'd hoped would happen. The gun skittered under the Mercedes. She swung the club again, catching him in the knee. He went down.

Groaned.

Then looked up. Grabbed the gun from underneath the car.

And lunged.

 

Lucas heard the gunshot and flinched. His father's breathing had grown shallower, his pulse weaker. The paramedics rushed in the door and Lucas said, “Heart attack. Give him some nitro and oxygen and airlift him to the hospital. I'll meet you there.” Lucas raced through the sunroom to the garage, knowing Godfrey had probably heard the ambulance sirens and was going to be desperate to get rid of Anna before being discovered.

Throwing open the garage door, he saw Godfrey going after Anna. “Godfrey!”

Godfrey swung around, raised the gun and fired. His aim was off, the bullet went wide. Lucas kept after him, hoping to keep his attention focused away from Anna, giving her time to flee. Godfrey, realizing what was happening, uttered a curse, fired off another round that came close enough to make Lucas flinch and hit the ground. Godfrey turned and went after Anna.

His heart racing, and breath coming in panicked gasps, Lucas scrambled to his feet and sped after the two of them, catching up close enough to see Anna duck into the boathouse.

Godfrey was nowhere in sight. Where had the man gone? Cold fear settled in his stomach. It was one thing to have your enemy in plain sight, it was another to know he was there, but be unable to pinpoint his location.

Expecting a bullet to come out of nowhere, Lucas ducked behind a tree to catch his breath and scan the area. Normally the rolling lawn held green, sodded grass. Right now, it was a plain, crisp brown revealing no sign of Godfrey. Where could he be?

The cement driveway led to the boathouse. And Anna.

He had to get to her.

His eyes pierced the area around him, and saw nothing, heard nothing. Lucas took off toward the building that held Anna…and a lot of bad memories, praying the police would arrive soon.

 

Godfrey had to be right behind her. Panting, fear pushing her adrenaline to new levels, she desperately searched for a way out. Daylight streamed through the windows, but other than that it was dark. However, hiding would just delay the inevitable. The boathouse was big, but not big enough to dodge bullets.

Could she get in a boat, head out to sea? But that would mean leaving Lucas in danger. Huh, nope. Okay, so that wasn't an option.

The door slammed. She whirled, dove behind a speedboat.

She'd dropped the golf club so she needed to find a weapon. Her eyes darted here. There. Nothing.

“Anna.” The sing-songy voice came from behind her.

The back door. He'd come in the back door.

She stilled, willing her heart to stop racing, her breathing to slow. Control. Then she started playing the game once again. She moved as silently as possible, sliding her hand along the boat's exterior, moving, stopping to listen. Hearing nothing.

Where was he? He'd been there to her right just moments ago.

A shuffle, a shaft of light across her face. Slinking back away, she tried to melt into the shadows.

“Come on, Anna. Lucas knows you're in here. He's on his way. He doesn't know about me, though. He thinks he lost me, that I ran away.” She shuddered at the casual conversation tone. He was nuts.

Another scuff to her left. Her legs cramped from her crouched position, muscles burning, the smell of gasoline and oil making her nose burn.
Please, Jesus, help…when I am afraid, when I am afraid, when I am afraid…

“Anna.” He reverted to the singsong voice that stirred the nausea in her gut. “Come out, come out wherever you are. Because if you don't, as soon as Lucas comes through that door looking for you, I'm going to shoot him.”

Shifting to her right, her fingers brushed wood. A stick? With her palm, she felt the shape of it. Smooth and flat on top, rounding at the edge. A paddle.

Better yet…a weapon.
I will trust in You.

 

Lucas twisted the knob to the building that he'd had to work up the courage to enter when he'd first returned from Brazil. He'd hated the bad memories, memories he couldn't shake thousands of miles away, but with Anna's help and presence, he'd been able to let the good memories overshadow the bad. And now Godfrey was threatening everything Lucas held dear.

At least he thought so. He hadn't actually seen Godfrey go into the boathouse, but that didn't mean he hadn't used the other door. Had the man realized it was hopeless and run?

And where were the cops? He should be hearing sirens by now.

Caution dictating every movement, he pulled the door open and slipped inside. He moved to the right, next to the now shut door and stood there a moment letting his eyes adjust to the dimness.

A clicking sound to his left caught his attention, then he felt the impact of a body slamming into his, knocking him to the floor. The bullet hit the wall where he'd been standing, sending wood chips raining down on him. He breath gone, his entire being stunned, he pushed all that aside and reacted.

Something brushed by him. He grabbed, caught a wrist…and paused.

“It's me,” Anna whispered. “We need to move.”

“Great, Anna, you really messed up a good shot. All of this would almost be over if you'd have just kept still.” Godfrey sounded bored.

Lucas pulled Anna with him as he scrabbled behind a five-foot-tall tool chest. Panting, she sat beside him and pulled something into her lap.

Another crack sounded at the same time a brief flash of light stuttered the darkness. This time, the object that hit him pierced the flesh of his right arm spinning him around and back to the floor of the boathouse. Pain sent him reeling. He'd been shot. Stunned, he lay there for a moment, then realized the bullet had passed through the muscle of his bicep. Painful but not fatal.

Anna screamed, leaped to her feet, raised the wooden weapon and swung it like a baseball bat. Godfrey hollered, but grabbed the paddle and grappled with her, knocking her back down and landing on top of her.

Twisting, she fought him, but then he brought the gun around to her face and she faltered. Lucas could almost see the rush of memories from when she'd been shot before, but he hesitated, reining in the almost overpowering desire to tackle Godfrey, not wanting to make the wrong move that got her shot.

Using a self-defense move she'd probably learned in FBI training, she brought her hand up sideways to smash it against her assailant's arm. Godfrey yelped, but held on to the weapon. Using the heel of her hand, she brought it up to meet his nose with enough force to break it. Blood spurted and Godfrey screamed his pain and rage as he arched back in agony. Lucas dove on top of him, scraping his elbow against the concrete, his bullet wound throbbing unmercifully as he grasped the hand still clutching the gun. Godfrey struggled, the weapon waving wildly, but Lucas was stronger and he held on, squeezing as hard as he could.

It was only then he registered he'd heard the sirens, now silent. A door slammed open, rushing feet arrived on the scene. Gun drawn, one tall, well-built officer yelled, “Freeze! Drop the gun!”

Lucas's first instinct was to do as ordered and freeze, but that would mean letting Godfrey get a free hand out to slug him—or shoot him. So, Lucas held on, struggling to get the gun away from Godfrey's adrenaline-induced strength.

“Godfrey! Stop!” Dahlia's screech startled her husband into a pertinent pause, giving Lucas the opening he needed. Jerking his knee up into his cousin's stomach, the breath whooshed from the man's lips and his grip weakened enough for Lucas to pull the weapon out of his hand.

And still, the man didn't stop until Anna retrieved the paddle she'd dropped and swung it into his stomach. While he was bent double one officer reached down and pushed Godfrey the rest of the way to the ground then shoved a knee in his back.

Godfrey hollered and finally quit struggling, blood dripping from his broken nose. Once he had the cuffs on him, the officer pulled Godfrey to his feet, another helped Lucas up.

Anna stood in the dim light, a stunned look on her face, the paddle still clutched in her fist. Ignoring his wounded arm, Lucas rushed over to her to grab a hand and pull her to him and she fell, almost limp against his chest. Their harsh goodbyes forgotten, he clasped her to him and held her, relishing the feel of her safe in his arms.

 

Once Godfrey had been arrested and information about the man named Silas was passed on to the authorities, Lucas made Anna promise to stick around so they could talk after all the madness died down. She'd agreed and was now inside the house taking a quick shower to rinse the blood off and change into clean clothes.

Dahlia had gone along with Godfrey's loud protestations declaring he didn't mean it—he was just trying to take care of her. Investigators had already been assigned to look into Godfrey's business dealings and the helicopter pieces they'd fished out of the water had been matched with that of the logo of Dahlia's cosmetics business. Godfrey had been using her business to funnel funds into it, stashing away megabucks, stealing his uncle blind.

Before the police hauled Godfrey off, Lucas had looked at him, not bothering to hide the hurt, the betrayal he felt at his cousin's actions. “Why?”

Godfrey had smirked, shaken his head and said, “Because I could. You've always had everything. My father struggled, scraped to get by and Uncle Thomas refused to do anything to help him. My mother worked herself into an early grave and I watched it all. You and Lance, everything you touched turned to gold. Then I managed to get Lance hooked on drugs and he hooked me on money, lots of it. I decided to get my hands on as much of it as possible and when Uncle Thomas had his stroke and asked me to help take care of the business, it was the perfect opportunity.” He snarled. “Then you had to come home and ruin it.”

Feeling ill at the memory of that confrontation and the hate in the eyes of the cousin he'd loved like a brother, Lucas stepped into his father's house, the scrape on his arm throbbing, the bullet wound adding to his assortment of bruises. He ignored it, knowing it was minor and that he could get it taken care of shortly. He'd have to have it cleaned out and take some antibiotics, but he'd be fine. The police had their required report, so all was well on that end.

His father was the one who's health was in question and Lucas was ready to get to the man's side.

As soon as Anna was finished cleaning up from her encounter with Godfrey's broken, bloody nose, they'd head to the hospital. Mark was already there, promising to take care of the old man and do his best to keep the damage to the man's heart to a minimum. Thomas was still alive, hanging on. Mark assured Lucas he could take his time getting to the hospital as his father would be going through test after test. He would be admitted to ICU until he was stabilized.

Two minutes later, Anna came down the steps, hair still wet, her eyes not meeting his.

He said, “We'll talk after we find out about my father, if that's all right.”

Softening, she said, “Of course. Let's go.”

 

Two hours later, Lucas stepped into his father's room. Machines beeped and whirred. The oxygen mask over the man's face made him look even more fragile than he had lying on the kitchen floor. Color had returned to his face, but he wasn't totally out of the woods yet.