KIDNAPPED, A Romantic Suspense Novel (23 page)

“Where are you going?” Samantha asked. Her brows drawn together in confusion, she pulled Nicky by the shoulders away from the truck.

He held up her cell phone he’d fished out of her backpack earlier. “Down the road to make a phone call to your brother. Our plans have changed.”

Before she could argue with him, he put the truck in gear, dust and gravel flying behind him. His enemies had done the one thing they shouldn’t have. They’d put Samantha in the path of a bullet meant for him.

He was damn tired of playing defense. They wanted to play hardball by endangering Nicky, and now Sami? He’d show them hardball. When he got done with them, they’d wished they’d never started this game.

* * *

Sami stood on the porch, her quilt wrapped around Nicky to keep the stinging cold wind, which blew in on the storm clouds just after dusk, from freezing the boy too badly. Her flashlight scanned the truck that approached the cottage from the drive.

Jake was back.

About damn time.

The past half-hour, waiting for him to return, had been sheer torture. Every known wild animal on the North American continent had set up camp outside the cottage, she was sure of it. However, staying in the dark, cold cottage to face creepy, crawly things hadn’t been an option. So, she told Nicky stories about Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett hunting in the forests, while they sat huddled together on the dilapidated porch. True to his male orientation, the boy now wanted to become a frontiersman—or at least go hunting and fishing in the woods.

She just hoped whatever phone call Jake had to make was worth the anxiety it put her through. Otherwise she’d save the Kreshnins the trouble and just kill the sexy hunk herself.

He turned the truck so it faced the road, before stopping. Wasting no time, she threw their things in the back after Nicky climbed in and scrambled into the safety of the vehicle. She barely had her seatbelt fastened when Jake peeled down the gravel drive again, sending rocks and dirt flying behind them. Once he turned onto the paved highway, he slowed to within the speed limit, but remained silent.

Sami held onto the door handle, with one arm around Nicky. She glanced at Jake. His lips pressed into a thin line, the muscle along his cheek twitched beneath the day-old stubble. He’d closed down again, turned back into bad cop.

“Was there a problem with Matt?”

“Nothing he can’t handle.” He barely ground the words out through clenched teeth.

“Do you know Davy Crockett, Jake?” Nicky asked before she could push Jake for more information.

The question, so out of the blue, surprised Jake. Sami watched him switch gears from hacked-off-stud-man to patient father figure in a blink of an eye.

“I know who he was. He died a long time ago.”

Nicky nodded with enthusiasm. “Sami say he live in woods and hunt wild animals. I want to live in woods and hunt animals when I get bigger.”

“I don’t know about hunting animals, but I think you’d like camping.”

Sami heard the hesitation in his voice and knew he was thinking the same thing she was—
if Nicky lived long enough to get to go camping
.

As they drove out of the rural countryside toward whatever fate held in store for them, she listened to Nicky and Jake discuss all the details of camping, hunting, and the wild frontiersmen who helped settle America. With each passing mile her heart grew heavy. Nicky loved his new country and soaked up every detail she or Jake told him. After all the trauma he’d suffered, he deserved to find some peace and happiness, not be on the run for his life at the ripe old age of nine.

The conversation in the truck died down. Nicky rested his head on her shoulder. She rubbed her hand up and down his arm, enjoying the weight of him pressed against her side.

The coughing wracked Aimee’s body, shaking her from head to toe. Sami hugged her closer in the huge bed. Michael, claiming to need his sleep because of a busy day in the morning, chose to sleep in the guest bed, like always.

“Mommy,” Aimee whispered once the coughing stopped, “Can I go to Davy’s birthday party tomorrow?”

“We’ll see how you feel tomorrow, sweetie.” She smoothed her daughter’s dark hair off her sweat drenched face. Thank goodness the fever finally broke. She slipped her hand down Aimee’s face to the pulse at the base of her neck and counted. One hundred. About normal for a child Aimee’s age. Good. She let her hand rest there, enjoying the feel of her daughter pressed against her side.

“Uncle Dave said we’re gonna go ice skating. I want to skate like those girls on TV. Can I?” She coughed again, only not quite so violently.

“You mean like the Olympic skaters we watched the other day?”

“Yes. They jumped high and spinned all around.” She moved her head to look up at Sami. Her eyes appeared even larger in her pale face.

Something brushed against Sami’s fingers with Aimee’s movement. “Once you’re feeling better, maybe we can sign you up to take some skating lessons. Would you like that?” She felt along her collarbone. Something round. Hard. A swollen lymph node? Not unusual with an infection, especially with bronchitis. You’re making more out of it than it is. Stop being the nurse, just be her mom. Yeah, but this was the third bout of bronchitis and ear infections Aimee’d had this winter.

“Can I wear a shiny costume?” Aimee slipped her arm over Sami’s abdomen and toyed with the satin button there.

“Yes. We’ll buy you a shiny costume. What color do you want?” Sami let her arm slide down her daughter’s shoulder to the top of her arm.

“Pink.” Her favorite color.

“Pink it is.”

Aimee’s breathing became slower, deeper. She slept, again.

Sami stroked her shoulder and upper arm in a soothing manner. Her finger met another round engorged lymph node. She searched her memory for everything she knew about infections. Did lymph nodes only enlarge around the area of the infection? Or did they enlarge all over the body? Damn, she wished she’d paid more attention to that part of her nursing classes.

Like any nurse worth the name her mind immediately jumped to the worse possible scenario. What were the symptoms of cancer? Weight loss. Aimee lost a lot of weight this winter from all her illnesses, but surely only because of the multiple. Another symptom—easily prone to infections.

Fatigue. There wasn’t a day gone by that Aimee didn’t need to nap or just plain fall asleep after an hour of playing. Pallor. She looked down at her daughter’s pale, pale skin resting against the dark green of her pajamas.

No! Stop this. She’s just a little under weather. All kids get sick in the winter. Take her to the doctor tomorrow. Let him tell you you’re being an over protective mother and seeing more than is there.

ACUTE LYMPHOCYTIC LEUKEMIA. The diagnosis stood out in her mind like a flashing neon sign the moment they’d come out of the doctor’s mouth—as if they advertised something. They had. They’d announced the end of their normal life and a battle they’d never been able to win.

Sami glanced down at Nicky. His battle wasn’t a done deal. At least with Jake, her and her brothers on his side, the kid had a fighting chance to live a happy life. She was glad. He deserved so much goodness to come to him. He was lucky Jake was one of the good guys.

Even if Jake chose to close her out once more, she was glad he didn’t refuse Nicky’s attention. The two of them were made for each other. Nicky deserved a father, someone to guide him and love him. Jake needed someone to force him to love and care for him, a son, a family.

She shook her head, trying to clear the image of she and Jake sitting around a campfire with half a dozen children, the oldest of which was Nicky. But the vision played over and over in her mind as the tires bounced on the cracks in the highway’s decade-old asphalt.

Weary from the constant threat to their lives and not sleeping in her own bed for days, she sighed.

A moment passed. Then Jake covered her cold hand in his warm one, squeezing it for a moment, then lacing his fingers with hers. The act meant to comfort her, touched her to her soul and yet saddened her at the same time. She tried to blink back the tears that jumped into her eyes.

He offered comfort, but he wasn’t planning on loving her, or staying with her. For some unknown reason he believed he didn’t have the right to love or have a family. She ached to convince him otherwise. If anyone deserved a wife and children, it was him.

Jake felt her fingers relax slightly in his, but not enough to signal she wanted him to release his hold on her. He hated to admit how good it felt to hold her hand. When he reached out to touch her, he’d only meant to reassure her and ease her fears. Funny thing the moment he took her hand, his own body had relaxed, too. The anger at their situation almost completely gone.

What was it about this one woman that affected him so deeply? Maybe the stress of running for their lives or the resulting Adrenaline rush that caused all these powerful feelings. Whatever the reason, for now he’d indulge himself in having her near him. When all this ended and his loneliness got too much for him, he’d pull out his memories of Samantha.

He chanced a glance at her in the dark truck cab. With their fingers still entwined, she used her other hand to stroke Nicky’s head. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders, almost covering the side of her face as she stared out into the dark countryside.

Neither gorgeous and statuesque, nor petite and cute, Samantha fit the every-guy’s-sister category. Most men wouldn’t take a second glance at her on the street or in a bar. Given different circumstances he doubted he ever would’ve noticed her, either. That would’ve been such a waste, too. These last few days he couldn’t imagine getting through them without her courage, stubbornness or passion.

His body tightened in response to thoughts of her passion. In self-preservation, he released her hand, fixed his gaze once more on the road ahead and eased himself closer to his door.

He felt her eyes studying him again. It took all his will power to keep his mind on driving. He knew his actions confused her. Hell they confused him, too. When she turned her attention on Nicky once more, Jake let out the breath he’d been holding.

Signs for the I-75 entrance flashed on the side of the highway.

“Can you get your cell phone our of your bag?” he asked her, a plan formulating in his mind.

“Uhm, yeah.” She pulled her backpack onto her lap. Searching through it, she produced the phone. “Why do you want it? I thought you said the FBI could trace the signal back to us.”

“I’m counting on it. Don’t turn it on until I tell you.”

He maneuvered the truck onto the interstate.

“You’re heading south, Jake. Columbus is the other direction.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He grinned at her. “We’re going to play fox to their hounds.”

“Huh?”

He couldn’t resist chuckling at her confusion. “We’re going to cover our tracks and throw them off our scent.”

“Oh! Make them think we’re heading toward Cincinnati and my family.”

“Right. Then we’ll double back into Columbus.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, they eased in behind an eighteen-wheeler pulling off the highway and into an all-night diner’s parking lot. Jake pulled into a slot and waited for the trucker to head inside.

“Watch me from the window.” He retrieved her baseball cap from the back seat and pulled it down over his face. “When I stretch my arms over my head, call your brother, Matt. Tell him about the ambush. Then tell him we’re on our way to Cincinnati and to meet us there to discuss plan B.” He leaned closer and indulged himself in one long kiss. Then he got out of his side of the truck. “And Samantha, leave the phone on. Got it?”

“Ambush. Cincinnati. Plan B. Phone on. Got it.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

She looked at him curiously. “What?”

“What do you like on your hamburger?” He grinned at her.

She shook her head. “Leave it to a man to think of food right now. Cheese, mustard and lots of pickles.”

Trying to appear casual, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and sauntered into the diner. He straddled a stool at the counter three seats away from the trucker who was busy studying the menu. The trucker ordered a slice of pie and coffee, asking the waitress to fill his thermos.

When the waitress approached Jake, he ordered three cheeseburgers, fries and milkshakes to go. He pulled the sports section over and read the results of Sunday’s football games, watching out of the corner of his eye as the trucker ate his pie. When the waitress returned with his bag of food, Jake stood and stretched, hoping Samantha saw his signal. Then he dodged the trucker, who was headed to the john, and paid for their food at the register.

Samantha still held the phone against her ear when Jake tapped on her window. He signaled he wanted to talk for a minute. They traded the bag of food for the phone.

“Matt? Yeah, they’re both fine,” he said still standing outside the car. Don’t call this phone okay? Yeah, it isn’t going to be clean anymore. Right. We’ll contact you when we get there.” He clicked the disconnect button, but left the phone on to receive calls, then looked at Samantha. “Do you have any tape in that bag of yours?”

“I’m a nurse. I always have tape,” she explained as she rummaged in her bag once more. She fished out a roll of hospital tape, the kind that tears easily but sticks to everything, and handed it to him.

He jogged around the back of the Suburban to the rear of the eighteen-wheeler. Then he secured the phone to the bottom of the big rig. Whistling, he shoved his hands back in his pockets and approached the driver’s side of Samantha’s car, stopped and kicked the tires to give anyone watching the impression he was just a weary traveler who’d been inspecting the car. He slipped back into the driver’s seat and took the burger Samantha handed him.

“That poor trucker is going to have a heart attack when the FBI pull him over.” She giggled, then bit into her sandwich.