KIDNAPPED, A Romantic Suspense Novel (2 page)

Breathe. Calm, just stay calm. Fight the panic.

The driver's door opened. The car’s weight shifted, then rose. Heavy boots sounded on the cement garage floor. The front passenger door opened. A grunt and whoosh of air escaped the man. He sounded like an Olympic weight lifter going for the clean and jerk record. More boots thumping. Sami strained to lift her head, but couldn't see more than halfway up the seat in front of her. She rested her head on the floor once again, waiting.

Again, the boots thudded across the garage, drawing nearer.

Breathe. Stay calm. Count.

One-one thousand, two-two thousand.

The door swung open.

Sami clenched her eyes shut, pretending she was still out cold.

It seemed like minutes passed. Every second marked by the rapid beat of her pulse in her ears.

What was he waiting for?

Something soft and warm whispered across her cheek. The smell of cinnamon teased her nose.

She couldn't stand it.

Cautiously, she opened her eyes. Two clear blue eyes beneath the thickest black lashes this side of a movie star met her gaze–-only upside down.

The rest of him was...shaggy. He reminded her of Robert Redford in that mountain man movie, Jeremiah something-or-other. Thick dishwater blonde hair hung to one side of his forehead and in layers down to his collar. A dark five-o’clock shadow covered the lower half of his face.

Her eyes traveled lower. Across the edge of his flannel shirt about an inch below his left collarbone, a circular pattern of dark crimson swirled outward from a hole, so full of old dried blood it bordered on black.

Whoever he was, he’d been shot tonight.

Her gaze flew to his.

He lifted his right eyebrow in a sardonic fashion. “Good, you’re awake.”

Both of his large hands grasped her by the shoulders. Carefully, he eased her into a sitting position.

“Let me make something perfectly clear. You are here only because I need you to patch up my friend. Got it?”

Sami nodded.

With one hand on top of her head, he guided her out of her car. Sami waited for the dizziness to clear her mind before taking a step forward. The garage door button next to the inside house door caught her eye.

An escape idea popped into her head.

Grasping her arm firmly, her captor nearly dragged her over to the door. Unsteady on her feet, she played it to her advantage and stumbled against him a step or two.

Timing was everything.

Just as they both stepped onto the bottom step leading into the house, Sami threw all her weight sideways into her captor. He grunted, falling to the side. His wounded shoulder hit the side of the house. Sami stumbled backward to the button, pressing the side of her head against it. Above her the w-h-i-r of the garage door opening sounded.

The panic she'd been fighting throughout her car trip surged through her once more. Fight or flight. She chose flight and suddenly propelled herself past his grasping hands toward the lifting garage door. Footsteps pounded behind her as she gained the driveway.

One step.

Two.

Three...

"Ooomph.” She hit the grassy bank to the drive’s side with what felt like a ton of bricks on top of her.

He swore as his arms wrapped around her and he rolled with her to the side.

Immediately, Sami began to squirm--legs thrashing, torso bucking into his.

"Damn it. Hold still!"

"Mmmph mmph!”
Like hell!

He increased the pressure of his arms on her ribs, slowly purposefully squeezing the air out of her lungs. At the same time he trapped her flailing legs between his own. Very quickly Sami decided to give in, for now, rather than lose consciousness again. With a resigning snort she let her body go limp against him.

"Look!” He growled in her ear and Sami despised the shiver of fear that coursed down her spine. “I don’t have time to play games with you, lady. I tried to be nice. Now we'll do it the hard way."

He scrambled out from underneath her. Sami caught her breath. With great determination she struggled to her feet. But before she could completely straighten, he shoved his uninjured shoulder into her stomach. As the air left her lungs, she bent over his back. One strong arm wrapped around her thighs. Sami found herself looking at the dirty torn jeans stretched tightly across his hips.

Like a rolled up carpet he carried her unceremoniously into the garage, closing the door and proceeding into her house. Blood rushed into Sami's head, which bobbed up and down as her captor strode through to her living room. He dumped her onto the oversized chair in the corner. She shook her head to help it clear as the blood rushed out.

"Stay there!" he ordered. Something in his voice warned her that his patience had ended.

She nodded to him, but he already knelt by the couch, his attention focused away from her.

Only one table lamp lit the room. In the dim light, Sami studied him. His pale blue shirt stretched tight across the muscles of his shoulders and back as he leaned across something on her couch. She could still feel the warmth of his hands on her shoulders and the strength of his arm across the back of her legs as he’d effortlessly hauled her into her own house.

The man ran his hand through the thick mane of dark blonde hair, then he shifted to one side.

Sami saw a body slumped on her old black and grey print couch. Soft moans filled the room. The man whispered something indistinguishable to the other person. She leaned to one side, trying to see around the man to the person in front of him.

"Hold on, Nicky," she heard the man murmur. He turned to look at her. "Where are your towels?”

Sami pointed to the left with her head, sort of shaking it toward the bathroom. Her captor hurried off in that direction. Now, she had a clear view of the body on the couch.

Sami sucked air in through her nose. Her stomach clenched.

He appeared to be a young boy, about eight or nine.

Sami’s breath caught in her chest.
The same age Aimee would be now.
Tears welled in her eyes. Blinking them away, she fought hard to sniff in air. She couldn’t lose it now.
Focus on the boy.

Dark hair, flat nose, slight of frame--maybe four and a half feet tall, about eighty pounds soaking wet. That's what he was all right, soaking wet...with blood.

The trauma nurse inside her kicked into gear. The boy was hurt and needed her help. Her captor be damned. She wiggled to the edge of her seat. She’d just managed to stand when the man walked in carrying her new white towels.

“Sit!” the man ordered her—just like a dog.

Yeah, like she was about to obey
that
command. She slid to her knees and struggled over to the couch. The boy was pale, but his breathing didn’t appear too labored. The man pressed a towel to the blood on his right chest, shoulder and arm. Sami wished she could get a better look at the boy’s wounds.

She nudged the man’s arm to get his attention.

“What?” he asked, distracted by his own actions.

Sami shoved her upper half into his side.

That got his attention! He moved sideways, just little enough to give her a closer view.

Sami leaned over the boy and pointed with her nose to what looked like the biggest wound. She sat back on her heels, repeating. “Mmph me mmph mmyph.”
Show me his wounds.

She could see the mental light bulb click on over the man’s head. “You want to see them?”

Duh.
She rolled her eyes, then nodded.

He dropped the towels and began unbuttoning the boy’s shirt. With a gentleness that surprised her, he peeled the sticky material away from the boy’s fair skin.

If she could have whistled, she would have. Instead she moaned deeply. Multiple lacerations crisscrossed the boy’s chest. She couldn’t tell how deep they ran with her hands tied behind her. Since his chest moved with ease and symmetry, she doubted a lung had been punctured.

“Mmph me mpph.”
Let me help
. She turned to the side, wiggling her hands at her captor.

He looked at her hands, then her face.

“You want me to untie you?”

She nodded emphatically.

“And I am supposed to trust you not to run away? Even after your attempted escape in the garage?”

Sami shrugged, then nodded again. Though she wouldn’t promise not to escape at some point.

He grabbed her chin in his hand—effectively holding her still. His intense blue eyes pinned her in place. He seemed to try reading her mind. “Listen to me very carefully, Samantha. I need your help, but will do without it if I need to. Nicky is in pretty bad shape. You are here only because I can’t risk either of us being in the emergency room. Got that?”

Sami could only blink her eyes in agreement, since his grip prevented her from moving her head.

“You get one chance, lady. I have to tackle you again or you make any move to escape and I won’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t have time to play around anymore. Understand my meaning?”

The barely veiled threat rang in Sami’s ears. The reality of her situation finally hit her. She gulped hard, this time managing to nod her acquiescence.

He tore at the tape holding her baseball cap-gag in place. The tape stung as he pulled it off her skin. Once her face was free, Sami wiggled her jaw and lips. Her captor reached behind her to untie her hands. When his body leaned in close, Sami caught the metallic scent of blood mixed with something else—something decidedly masculine. Turning her head to the side, her cheek grazed against the rough hair covering his chin. To keep from giving into the urge to sigh, she coughed hard.

The man finished releasing her hands. He moved away, his attention already on trying to stem the flow of blood on the boy’s chest. To work out the stiffness and numbness that had settled into her joints and muscles, Sami rubbed her wrists and rolled her shoulders. She leaned in, grasping the towels. Gently she pulled them away from the man’s hands. “Let me.”

She blotted at the two largest wounds.

The boy moaned as she worked. “Proklyatca.”

“Etohrosho,”
the man replied in what sounded like some sort of Slavic language to Sami’s straining ears. His reassuring tone eased the boy’s tension.

Sami applied pressure, blotted, then looked at the wounds again. Her nurse’s eye took over. There were a total of five gashes on the boy’s chest and abdomen. Three looked like slashing cuts, the bleeding from them already stemmed and starting to clot over. Of the more dangerous looking ones, the largest kept oozing, but the smaller one had less of a blood flow.

“These two are going to need suturing. And he could do with some antibiotics too. You really need to get him to the emergency room.”

He gave her a scathing look that questioned her mental state. “Didn’t you hear me before? We
can’t
go to the hospital.”

“Why?”

“It’s very complicated. Can you help him?”

Sami assessed the pale boy lying limp on her couch. She reached over and felt his pulse. Fast, but steady. The worst was probably over, but she had a feeling her immediate welfare might depend on their need of her nursing skills. Helping her own captors and not reporting the suspicious wounds to the police went against her personal beliefs, but staying alive seemed more important at this moment. Her mama always said compromise was a good thing.

“I have some suture in the laundry room off the kitchen back there.” She nodded her head in the general direction. The question on his face almost made her smile. “I sometimes have it in my scrub jackets when I get home. It won’t be a pretty suturing job, but I can probably close these. Lord knows I’ve seen it done enough.”

“You’re really going to help him?”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

In all her life, Sami had rarely been intimidated like this man had done to her moments before, but growing up with three older brothers taught her never to let her fear show. She wasn’t starting today, not even for this stranger. It was about time he realized she wasn’t some helpless female. She’d dealt with obstinate men her whole life. What was one more?

“Unless you think you can stick a needle into flesh over and over to get these wounds closed effectively, I guess I’m the only candidate.” She looked him directly in the eye, almost challenging. “Hold this towel in place and I’ll go get the suture.”

The scowl returned to his face. Instead of doing what she said, he gripped her arm just under her elbow and hauled her to her feet. “We’ll go get it together.”

He dragged her stumbling through the kitchen and into the laundry room. The box sat on the shelf over the dryer. If her luck held, maybe she could pocket the scissors and hemostats from the box without him knowing it. They might help her escape later.

“That all you need?” His grip on her arm tightened.

“A bowl of really hot water to wash the dirt away from his wounds wouldn’t hurt.”

He led her into the living room. To her dismay, he grabbed the box, rifled through it and withdrew the scissors and hemostats. “I’ll hold on to these for you.”

Her heart sank. “I’ll need the scissors.” 

“You let me know when, and I’ll give them to you. Until then, we’ll all be safer with them in my care.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “The water?”

“You get started, and I’ll get it. Remember, your job is to fix Nicky. I don’t need you for anything else.”

As he left the room to do her bidding, Sami knelt and held another towel on both wounds. “Shh, Nicky. It’s going to be okay,” she crooned to the boy.

She emptied the box’s contents beside her. Suture packets. Bottle of peroxide. Band-Aids. Gauze pads. Sterile exam gloves—size six. Surgical tape.

Sami evaluated Nicky’s overall condition. Even though none of his wounds looked life threatening to her, she wasn’t about to tell the man that. As long as he believed he needed her, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t harm her.

The child appeared underweight for his age, probably from malnourishment. Was the man holding her captive responsible for this child’s injuries and neglect as well?