Sweet Reward

Prologue

Epilogue

“Say you’re sorry and I’ll let you go.”

Lips crimped together, he glared at the woman and adamantly shook his head.

Her fingers dug into his skinny shoulders as she lifted him off the ground and then shook him until his teeth rattled. “Boy, you’re going to learn some manners if I have to beat them into you.”

Despite his determination not to make a sound, a small whimper escaped him.

“Tell her you’re sorry, Jared. Just say it.” Melody leaned closer and whispered, “You don’t have to mean it. Just say the words.”

He could lie and say it. He’d told some whoppers before.
Just spit it out and get it over with and she’ll let you go
.

The woman started shaking him again. “I’m only going to tell you one more time. If you don’t apologize, you’re going to be even sorrier than you already are.”

He heard a sob and looked over at Melody. Tears were rolling down her face, and she was shaking as hard as he was being shaken. “He’s sorry, ma’am,” she cried. “Really he is.”

Jared looked up at the angry woman holding him. Fear
almost forced the words out … but they stuck in his throat, trembled on his mouth. Why wouldn’t they come out?

“Okay you little bastard, you asked for it.” She dropped him to the ground and reached for Melody. Picking the little girl up, she started toward the small shed.

Jared leaped to his feet. “No! Leave her alone!”

Melody screamed, “He’s sorry! Please, just say it!”

“I’m sorry!” The words finally burst from Jared’s mouth. “I’m sorry. Let her go, please. I won’t ever do it again. I promise.”

“You’re damn right you won’t.”

Sobbing, Melody clung to the woman, her head almost upside down as she was carried sideways against the woman’s big body.

His heart filled with terror, Jared ran after them and reached out to grab Melody’s hand. But the woman moved too fast, and his legs were trembling and too weak. He lost his balance and fell face-first to the ground, Melody’s screams echoing in his ears. He’d finally found the words to say he was sorry, and it had done no good. Now Melody was going to be punished for something he’d done.

Getting to his feet, he forced his thin legs to eat up the distance to the small building where punishment was given. He had to save Melody; he had to stop the punishment. With his breath coming out in panicked gasps, he shoved the door open. Melody lay at the woman’s feet, blood on her face, her eyes closed.

The woman stood above her. Her eyes were wild as she screamed, “Your fault, you little bastard!” She stepped over Melody and reached for him.

Horrified, Jared backed away, then turned. His heart thudding with a new terror at what he had caused, he took off again, running as hard and as fast as he could. He never should have taken the apple without asking. He
should have been able to say he was sorry sooner. Melody was dead because of him … just like his mama and daddy.

Sobs clogged his throat, choking him. He ran and ran. He wanted to sprout wings; he wanted to fly far, far away, to someplace where he could be anything or anyone else.

Hands bit into his shoulders and lifted him off the ground. Kicking and screaming, he clawed at her, fighting as hard as he could. But just like all the other times, it did no good.

“Livingston, where the hell are you?”

As Noah McCall’s terse words rang in his earbud, Jared’s mouth twisted with a wry grimace. His boss was pissed—not an unusual event. Couldn’t do a damn thing about that … especially right now. Standing on a six-inch ledge twelve stories above the ground and only a few feet from a maniac with a gun impeded his ability to answer.

Plastered against the white brick wall, his concentration fierce, Jared focused on his destination: the half-open window ten feet to his right. His muscles strained as he extended his arms above him; his long fingers gripped the small overhang as his feet inched along the ledge of the building.

They had been on the other side of the apartment door for over two hours, trying to talk a nutcase into freeing a ten-year-old girl he’d snatched off the street. So far, all they’d gotten were threats to shoot the child if anyone tried to come in. Jared had gotten tired of waiting.

McCall had been in the midst of conversing with the man when Jared had walked away. The Last Chance Rescue leader was a good hostage negotiator, but hearing the child crying had turned Jared’s stomach. He’d figured
he had two choices: walk away and let the negotiations continue or do something to speed up the process.

“Livingston,” McCall snarled softly, “if you fall, I swear I’ll figure out a way to bring you back to life so I can kill you myself.”

Apparently someone had alerted his boss that Jared had found an alternate entrance.

He was an avid climber, and at least once a year he went somewhere—lately Mont Blanc—and fed his need. Compared to that, hanging out on a ledge in downtown Agar wasn’t that much of a challenge. Still, even just this high up, the air was fresher and the only creature around was a bored-looking pigeon that had barely acknowledged him.

A heavy gust of wind slammed him hard against the wall. His fingers tightened on the ledge. It was a good reminder that while a twelve-story building wasn’t much of a challenge, it could still get dicey.

He inched closer to the window. Since they’d managed to slide a mirror beneath the door, he had a good idea of what was going on inside. The creep faced the door; his back to the window, he held a gun to the girl’s head. It seemed to Jared that the best option for a live rescue was to come in behind him.

At the edge of the window, Jared stopped. Barely easing his head over, he got his first real glimpse of what was going on inside. The man, known to them only as Bernard, stood about four feet from the window. A young girl sat on a stool in front of the man, her thin body shuddering in obvious terror, and with good reason—the gun was still pressed to her head.

Jared quickly took in the rest of the room. Sofa and chair to the left, small kitchen with a bar to the right. No one else in sight. Looked like the guy was on his own for this.

The window was open about half a foot, with no screen, thankfully. Shooting the bastard was a temptation, but one Jared couldn’t risk. Bernard’s finger was on the trigger. One involuntary jerk and the child was dead.

A sudden flutter of wings was Jared’s only warning as a pigeon dove toward him. As he instinctively ducked, his left foot slipped and he slid to one knee. His right hand latched onto the windowsill, saving him from plunging to the ground. A cooing sounded above him; Jared glared at the two birds sitting on the ledge. Not one whit intimidated, they continued their pecking and ignored him.

With a firmer grip on the windowsill, Jared pushed himself back to his feet and drew his gun from its holster. In that instant, Bernard whirled around. Wild, bloodshot eyes went wide as he stared at Jared. He swung his gun around, moving it away from the girl’s head. Jared had a split second to make the decision. Without hesitation, he took the shot. A small hole appeared in Bernard’s forehead and the man fell to the floor.

A flurry of people burst through the door. Jared slid the window open wider and slipped inside. Medics rushed to the girl; McCall stalked in after them. His boss’s eyes went straight to Jared, and the expression on his face promised a future dressing down.

Jared mentally shrugged. He and McCall had a weekly “What the hell were you thinking?” meeting. He had gotten used to them. Sure, he had a deep respect for his boss and the work LCR performed, but Jared had told the man up front that following rules wasn’t his strong point. McCall didn’t always like Jared’s methods, but he got the job done.

He moved across the room toward the lone Agar policeman, who also happened to be the police chief. A small town like Agar had only a skeleton force. LCR
often helped out when small towns needed assistance. Though it had been a clean kill, that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be questions. In Jared’s previous life, he’d been able to walk away with no one even knowing about his existence, much less asking questions. Odd how he didn’t miss those old ways.

Always aware of his surroundings, he knew McCall was bringing in the mother to console the sobbing child, who’d raced to the corner of the room the instant after the bullet hit Bernard. In the middle of the room, LCR operative Aidan Thorne stood over the dead man as a medic examined him.