KIDNAPPED, A Romantic Suspense Novel (3 page)

Her duty was first and foremost to get help. Somehow she needed to get the boy into protective care. If she could just get help on the way while she patched the boys wounds, the two of them might get away from their captor.

Desperately she glanced around her living room. The phone lying on the floor behind the chair caught her peripheral vision. If she hurried, she had one more opportunity to get some help.

Straining, she listened for sounds from the kitchen. Only the sound of water running met her ears.

Now was her chance, and as quick as this guy was, she might not get another one.

Without making any noise to alert her kidnapper, she eased herself off her knees and hurried over to the phone. The sound of running water continued in the kitchen.

Carefully, she lifted the receiver on the phone and punched 9-1...

Suddenly, the phone was jerked out of her hand. Sami gasped as her captor slammed it down. Then she watched, horrified, as he jerked the phone, line and jack from the wall with one giant pull.

He loomed over her.

Sami swallowed hard, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of watching her cower in front of him.

His jaw clenched. A muscle jerked rhythmically from his cheek to his neck.

His eyes narrowed with menace, his nares flared.

In that instant she knew her life expectancy just dropped to one minute.

CHAPTER TWO

“I wondered how long it would take you to make a try for the phone.” Jake held the phone in one hand, the cord stretched taut to the other one. He fought the urge to wrap it around the woman’s neck. “No phone. No trying to escape. Not even a smoke signal!”

Samantha’s eyes widened. Slowly, she nodded.

He dropped the phone, shoving her as gently as possible, but strong enough to show he meant business, in the couch’s direction. “Now get your butt over there and fix Nicky.”

Fear crossed her features, quickly replaced by anger. Damn, he had to give her credit, she might be scared, but she wasn’t about to make this easy on him. It was as much for her safety as theirs that she not contact anyone, but he couldn’t tell her that, yet. He followed her over to kneel next to Nicky.

“Onah seedekja ee boodyet pomooghat, moy droug.”
This lady is going to help you, my friend
. He explained in Russian. Nicky knew English fairly well, but Jake was sure his own language would reassure him as much as the words.

The boy nodded, then turned to watch Samantha. He gave her a shaky smile.

She returned it with a more reassuring one of her own. “Nicky, this is going to hurt. There isn’t anything I can give you to make it not hurt.”

Jake laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “Nicholai, eto poveleetelnee-nedyelat ne zvook. Mne ne nada pleetzia eesledovat.”
Nicholai, it is very important that you not make any noise. We must not bring the police here to investigate.

Samantha pulled on a pair of medical gloves. She reached for the peroxide and some gauze pads. “This is going to sting, Nicky. But I need to clean the blood and wash away as much dirt as I can.”

Jake grimaced as she poured the liquid onto the first wound. Nicky sucked in his breath when the peroxide bubbled and sizzled on his skin. Then his eyes rolled backward. His head fell against the pillows.

“Nicky.” Jake tried to push Samantha aside to get closer to the boy.

She stopped him with a hand on his chest. “He only fainted. The pain was just too much for him.”

“You’re sure? You’re sure he didn’t lose too much blood?”

“Oh, I’m sure he lost a great deal of blood. But I doubt he lost enough to do more than make him weak at this point.” Despite her words, she reached out a hand to feel the pulse in Nicky’s neck. Then she nodded reassuringly.

Usually, he didn’t trust complete strangers, and he was probably a fool for putting any faith in someone he’d coerced into helping him, but something in her calm confidence reassured him. He relaxed a little and moved back to give her room to work.

She opened the suture packet, taking out a curved needle with long purple string attached to it.

God, that was really going to hurt the kid.

She turned to look at him, holding out her hand. “I’m going to need those hemostats.”

“I assume those are these?” Jake held the medical instrument in his hand. He slipped it into hers. “Just remember what you’re using them for, lady.”

For an instant she gave him a look that suggested she’d like to put those hemostats somewhere in his body. Dismissing him, she turned to probe at the first wound’s edges. Jake squeezed Nicky’s hand, even though the boy remained blissfully unconscious throughout the ordeal.

Samantha worked quickly, even though she stopped from time to time to whisper her apologies to Nicky. Every time she stuck the needle through a piece of skin, Jake fought his own need to look away.

Finally, the nurse had all the wounds that needed stitching closed. “I’ll finish bandaging these and we can let him rest. Your friend is a very strong little boy.”

“You don’t know the half of it, lady.”

Jake pulled a kitchen chair in to sit near her as she finished bandaging the boy. He gave himself a small mental pat on the back. One thing had gone right tonight. In kidnapping Samantha at least he’d gotten a nurse who knew her business. He was glad. Nicky had been through enough already in his young life. Jake wanted to try and keep him healthy and safe, at least the rest of this night. Who knew what trouble tomorrow would bring.

Samantha tucked a red and black wool afghan around Nicky, then sat back on her heels. “You’re next.”

She had the lightest green eyes, he’d ever seen. Something stirred deep inside him, something very inappropriate for the moment. Ignoring the feeling, he began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Just wiggle out of the right side,” she instructed him. “I’ll have to cut the shirt close to the edge of your wound, or else you’ll just end up tearing the clots loose.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“More times than I can count. Gunshot wounds are all too common these days.” She leaned forward on her knees and looked at the front, then the back of his shirt. “Lucky for you, the bullet passed straight through. At least I don’t think it hit any bones.”

“Yeah, I’m real lucky.”

She reached over to the table where he had set the scissors. With his left hand, he grabbed her firmly around the wrist, trapping her where she knelt in front of him. “No funny stuff, Samantha. I haven’t hurt you, yet. But if I have to, believe me, I will.”

Her eyes widened then she swallowed, slowly nodding once more. He released her wrist. Gingerly, he eased himself further into the chair. “Okay. I’m ready.”

She pulled the shirt away, trimming to within an inch of the hole’s center. When she had the front loose, Jake sat forward so she could work on his back. She set the blood-crusted material on the floor, then reached for the bottle of peroxide.

“The easiest way to loosen this is to soak it off.” She smiled at him. Actually smiled at him, as she poured.

“Damn! Fuck!” Jake gripped the chair’s side, as he muttered several more expletives. He gritted his teeth, sucking air inside in a low hiss. His vision blurred then went black. “Geeze, you actually liked doing that. Oh man.”

He grabbed her by the wrist of the hand holding the bottle. Slowly his vision cleared. With great determination he looked her right in the eye. “You give sadistic nurses a bad name, Samantha.”

He grasped her other wrist and drew her slowly closer, closer, until finally, only a breath separated their noses. “Don’t do that again, without warning me.”

Those fascinating, pale-green eyes of hers widened. Then she moved her head in the barest of nods. Half draped across his lap, he felt just the slightest tremors pass through her body. She was scared, but she didn’t want to let him know how much. He had to give her credit. The woman had guts.

“Get on with it, then.” This time he steeled himself for her ministrations.

She pulled the last material piece away, whistling. “What caliber made this hole?”

“Thirty-eight.”

She looked at him. “Police issue?”

“Yes, it is. Don’t tell me you know that from working in the emergency room, too?”

“No. My brother’s a cop.”

He bit back another oath.

Great, all he needed now was to find out her brother was on the hit squad that had come after him and Nicky tonight. Could this night get any worse?

“You have a brother on the local force?”

“I should lie and tell you yes. But no. He’s a cop down in Cincinnati.”

Jake relaxed a bit. Maybe if his luck held, he and Nicky would be long gone before this brother-cop found out about her kidnapping. Right now, he didn’t need someone else on his tail, especially an irate brother.

“So why are the local cops shooting you?” She finished cleaning the wound’s edges by dabbing it with wet gauze. Then she picked up another suture packet. “And this is going to need a couple of sutures in it. Is that warning enough?”

“Go ahead.“ Jake grabbed the chair’s edges tightly with both hands. “The cops weren’t supposed to be firing at me.” He kept talking to distract himself from what she was doing. “I wish I could say I just got caught in the cross fire, but...” Fire seared through his arm as she pulled the suture through the skin. “Damn woman! Are you trying to make it hurt more?”

“Actually, the pain is a good thing, Mr. Kidnapper. It means the nerve is still intact.” She put in another suture.

“Jake.” He grimaced, but this time refrained from commenting further.

Samantha paused, the needle an inch from his skin. “Excuse me?”

“The name’s Jake. And I wish you’d stop talking and get finished.”

Samantha didn’t say another word until she closed both the front and back holes. Jake watched her as she worked. Her dark head bent slightly to the side, the low lamp light cast soft shadows to her skin. He wondered if it felt as soft as it looked. Despite the pain her efforts were causing him, he had to fight the urge to caress one of her cheeks.

It had been nearly three years since he’d been around a normal woman. Three long years or undercover work. His usual feminine company was the prostitutes that worked for the Kreshnins. Most were immigrant girls who’d come to America for a better life, only to find themselves trapped in a sex-slave ring to pay off their debt for transport from Europe. Although he’d felt sorry for the women and slept with a few to keep his cover intact, none had ever stirred any real sexual interest in him.

So why all of a sudden did this woman?

Samantha tilted her head further to the side, studying the wound. Concentrating on her work, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

Jake almost groaned. He reminded himself she served a purpose, and it wasn’t to reawaken his own libido.

Finally, the torture of her ministrations ended, she had both holes sewn shut. To hold gauze pads in place as a clean dressing, she wrapped gauze around his chest and over his shoulder. Despite her professional actions, her fingers felt like soft, warm feathers caressing his skin.

Finished, she sat back on her heels once more. “So, Jake, this was an accidental police shooting?”

“No. It was no accident. Only I don’t know exactly who had me targeted.”

Samantha stopped in the midst of gathering her supplies to give him a puzzled look. “I thought you said it was the police that shot you.”

“I did.” Jake picked up the instruments, needles and gauze, carrying them into her kitchen. He searched through her trash.

“What are you looking for in there?” Samantha followed him, carrying her box of supplies. “I swear I don’t keep any weapons in my trash. Although, after today, I just might start.”

Jake pulled out a soup can and lid. “Give me your gloves.”

“Why?” She held them out to him.

“Because I don’t want anyone finding this stuff until it hits the city landfill.” He stuffed the needles, bloody gauze, and gloves inside. Then he wedged the lid on top and buried the can deep into the bottom of her trash can. Dizziness swamped over him. He fought to stay on his feet.

He clutched the counter to remain vertical, then hissed as the throbbing in his left hand began anew.

“Shit.” He released his grip with that hand and shook it.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” She reached for it and he pulled away. “Let me see it.” With practiced patience, she reached again, her warm, soft hands grasping him firmly by the wrist.

How many reluctant patients had she gently manhandled in the same way working in the ER?

Slowly he opened his hand. A large circular bruise covered the heel’s fleshy center. Small scabs covered several teeth marks marking the edge of his injury.

Samantha studied it a moment, then turned to look at him. “I did this, didn’t I?”

He nodded.

A brief smile of pride crossed her lips. “Good.”

Her pleasure in wounding him surprised him. He frowned and leaned closer. “I don’t think you’re in a position to gloat.”

Her smile disappeared and she swallowed. She reached into her freezer and brought out a bag of frozen peas. “Hold that on it a while. It’ll numb the pain some.”

He held the frozen vegetables to his hand. Damn it felt good. He watched her finish putting away her supplies.

“What happened to Nicky?” she asked as she washed the blood from the towels in her sink. “He wasn’t shot.”

Once she’d squeezed the water from the towels, she set them on the counter. When she pumped liquid soap from the colorful dispenser next to the sink onto her hands a fresh lemony scent filled the air. With a circular, rolling motion, she worked the lather over and over her hands, squeezing it between her fingers. Then she dipped them under the hot water, working in the same circular motion.

Mesmerized by her professional hand-washing job, the dizziness hit him again. He needed to lie down before he fell down. No way could he leave her loose. He grabbed her by the gold and brown braid hanging down her back.