The person claiming to be Kramer had been clear. Involve anyone else and he’d hurt them and everyone they loved.
“Do you trust me?”
She looked into his sharp green eyes. God help her, but she did. Of course, there weren’t a lot of options at the moment. “Yes.”
“Then, let’s get out of here.” He tucked his cell in his duffel.
“How do you plan to do that?” she asked.
The crack of a bullet split the air.
Before Samantha had time to argue, Dylan had her on the floor. He needed to find cover in order to put mass between the two of them and the shotgun blasts firing toward them. He urged Samantha forward, crawling on hands and knees toward the kitchen. The feel of a body like hers underneath him, especially the way hers fit his, gave him a thrill of sexual excitement, but right now he didn’t need his body reacting inappropriately. Nor did he need the distraction.
The three-foot crawl space between the fridge and the wall in the kitchen would offer some shield. Guiding her there, he followed. “Do everything I say.”
Her cobalt-blue eyes were wide when she nodded.
Time to move.
Dylan shouldered his duffel and entwined Samantha’s fingers in his, ignoring the pulse of electricity vibrating up his arm. His vehicle was parked two streets over. If they could make it out of the back of the house, circle around and cut across the street, they had a chance to break free.
He carefully zigzagged through the bushes along the path, hoping like hell they didn’t run into whoever was shooting at them. With any luck, the shooter would be inside the house by now.
The glint of metal shone between houses directly across the street. That was what he got for wishing.
Dylan squinted against the bright sun, tucked Samantha behind him and ran like hell, darting side to side as he crossed the street.
Halfway across, a bullet struck the center of his chest, knocking the wind out of him. The impact, equivalent to being hit with a rubber mallet, knocked him back. He stumbled a few steps before falling on his backside and then scrambling behind a car so he could catch his breath. The Kevlar he wore kept the slug from piercing his chest.
Samantha’s scream made the hair on his neck stand up. She obviously thought he’d been shot. And he had been. But it was okay.
She dropped down next to him.
There was no time to explain, so he gripped her hand tighter. Dylan dragged in a few breaths, and then pushed on, hoping the shooter hadn’t readjusted, ready to fire another round.
Dylan guided them in between the buildings.
Forging ahead, he cleared another block and palmed his keys. His vehicle was in sight when he disarmed the alarm and unlocked the doors remotely.
If he could get the pair of them out of there, they had a chance at escape.
Dylan let go of Samantha’s hand in time for her to dash around to the passenger side and get in. She sat there, stunned.
Out in the open like this, they were extremely vulnerable to attack.
Key ready, Dylan fired up the engine and peeled out of there.
“You’re going to be fine.”
“They shot you.” The disbelief in Samantha’s voice indicated she hadn’t had time to process everything that had just happened. It was a lot for a civilian to take in, and she was doing better than expected.
“I’m good. See.” Dylan used his right hand to pull up his shirt enough for her to see his thin Kevlar vest. His left gripped the steering wheel as he wound through the residential area and away from the shrieking sirens. His focus had to be on the road as he assessed everyone they passed for potential threat. “I’ll end up with a nasty bruise. That’s all.”
“Okay.” That one word was spoken soft and small, almost without air. Her vulnerability pierced a different set of his armor.
He dropped his shirt and returned his hand to the steering wheel, checking the rearview to see if they had any company. So far, so good. One wrong turn and the story could change drastically. “We need to find the closest police station.”
“No, please. He’ll find my father if I involve the law.” The desperation in her voice had him thinking twice.
“Samantha, we were just shot at. You’re scared beyond belief. I believe you when you say you aren’t involved in anything illegal. So let’s go to the police and get protection.”
“As soon as this car slows, I’ll jump out. You shouldn’t be part of this.” She gripped the door handle. “Promise you won’t go to the cops.”
“Tell me why not.” That was the second time she’d specifically insisted he shouldn’t be involved. What the hell was that all about?
“I already did. He’s going to kill my father.”
“Who is?”
“Thomas Kramer, the Mason Ridge Abductor.”
“He’s dead, Samantha. He can’t hurt you.”
“You asked about the phone calls before.” Her voice sounded resigned.
“And?”
“I was walking home from work last Tuesday. It was late. I stayed to finish up a project and was the last one to leave the office. Someone jumped me. I was shocked, scared, but I fought. I somehow managed to get away.”
“Did you report it?”
“Of course. The police said it was most likely an attempted robbery. At first I thought the whole incident was random, too. When I told my father, he started freaking out. Made me promise not to leave my condo. Begged me not to get the police or anyone else involved. Said he’d make everything right. Told me to give him a little time and that he’d done a bad thing. I didn’t know what to think or do. I panicked. Took a few vacation days and didn’t leave my condo. Then the phone calls started. Someone saying he was the real Thomas Kramer said he wanted to meet. Said he had something of mine. He said if I involved the police, he’d kill me and my father. I stopped answering. When a stranger knocked on my door, I panicked again. I gathered a few of my things, waited for the guy to leave and then took off.”
“Sounds as if someone is hiding behind Kramer’s name. There’s a cell phone in my duffel. I need you to take it out,” he said.
“Please, no. Don’t call the police.”
“I won’t. Not until we figure this out.”
“Not ‘we.’ I need to lie low until I find a way to reach my father.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Samantha.”
