Don't Look Back (37 page)

It was now or never. Ignoring her nausea and all of her aches and pains, Jamie had bolted from the bathroom the minute the door closed behind George to shove her hand in the pocket of her lab coat. Her fingers closed over the object just as the door to the bedroom opened once again.

George stood there, syringe in one hand, baseball bat in the other.

Jamie thought she just might throw up again.

“You can make this easy or we can do it the hard way.”

Her eyes flittered back and forth between his hands. “What do you want?”

That evil smile slithered across his lips. “It’s time to end the pain, Jamie.”

Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. Deep breath, control. Her lungs started to feel tight.
Breathe, Jamie, breathe.
She couldn’t. Her palms slicked and she squeezed her fingers tighter into her fist. “Why now?”

“Because the fun is over. They’ll be looking for you and I have to get back to the office for an appointment. Can’t miss that, you know. That might tip someone off that something isn’t right.”

“They already know it’s you,” she blurted.

His brows fanned down. “What do you mean? Of course they don’t.”

She bit her lip. She didn’t know if they knew or not. Would saying they did encourage him to kill her faster? Or hold her as a hostage until he knew for sure?

Jamie wasn’t a gambler and couldn’t decide which way to hedge her bets.

“What do you mean?” he yelled. “Tell me what you know.”

Please give me the right words, Jesus.
“Just that they’ll be looking for you too. Dakota knew I was with you in your office. You think he won’t put two and two together? They’ll watch the tapes. They’ll see your car in the lot and wonder why you’re not in the building. And Chet. Did you kill him? They’ll wonder about that too.”

“I’ll come up with something,” he muttered, yet indecision played across his features. She had him thinking, wondering. “Come with me,” he snapped.

Jamie held her wrists up. “These might be a problem.”

He tossed the syringe on the bed and stomped over to release the cuffs from the chain. Her hands were still shackled, but she could now move freely. He shoved her in front of him. She wondered if she’d feel the needle plunge into her back or if he’d decided not to use it.

She prayed he wouldn’t as she needed all of her senses about her if she were going to make this work.

Dakota watched George usher Jamie out of the bedroom. A minute later, they appeared in the x-ray room, as he’d dubbed it. The man placed a syringe on the counter alongside the baseball bat.

He said something and Jamie shook her head. He grabbed her cuffed wrists and jerked her to the table. That was enough for Dakota.

He gave the location of Jamie and George, going with his gut that it was now or never. “Move into position. On three.”

35

By the time he cuffed her to the table, hands together and above her head, and turned his back, Jamie had her terror under control and itched to put her plan into practice. Scared, knowing this was a one-shot deal, she grasped the handcuff key she’d pulled from the pocket of her lab coat – the key she’d carried with her ever since being released from the hospital twelve years ago – and inserted it into the lock. Her hands shook so hard, she nearly knocked it from the hole.

Her breath came in raspy pants, but she couldn’t help that now. What was he doing? Over by the floor vent, he crouched down, staring at something. Whatever it was, it gave her more time.

She started on her right hand just about the time George let loose a string of curses. She jumped and the key fell from her fingers to rattle on the hardwood floor.

He whirled and she jumped from the table, one arm still held captive by the other cuff attached to the table. She could see the key, stretched her hand out to grab it – and got her fingers smashed in the process. The rocking pain shot through her hand and up her arm.

The door burst open and three men with guns forced their way in. “Freeze! Drop the knife!”

Connor and Dakota followed.

A hand grabbed a fistful of curls and yanked her to a standing position. She gasped and saw flashes of stars as he jerked her neck into an awkward position.

“Let her go, man.” Dakota inched forward, gun trained on George’s head.

“Not a chance,” George snarled. He gripped the knife and held it against her throat. She didn’t dare swallow. Still attached to the table, he couldn’t drag her anywhere.

“Get them to let my hand go and I’ll get you out of here,” she said in a low voice, not daring to do or say anything to set him off.

“Right.” She could hear the fury in his voice.

“I mean it,” she promised.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you help me?”

She thought, fought, prayed, for the right words. “Because you stopped the pain, George.”

He paused, the knife shifted, and he snarled at Dakota. “Get her uncuffed.”

“No way, man.”

Jamie looked at Dakota. “Do it.”

“Sorry, Jamie, not going to happen. If I uncuff you from that table and he gets out of here, we might never be able to find you.”

She stared hard into his eyes. “Dakota, I need you to release my other hand and do it now. Do you understand?”

He and Connor exchanged a glance. Dakota’s face twisted with indecision. Finally, he gritted, “Fine.”

What do you have in mind, Jamie?
She read his question without difficulty as he slipped the key into the hole that would trigger her release.

The cuff opened.

Her hand fell free.

Immediately, George backed up, the knife still held against her throat. “Okay,” she panted, doing her best to ward off the panic attack. “Okay, I’m free. Where do you want to go?”

“I’m never going to get out of here alive,” he muttered.

She wished she could see his face. If he would just turn a little, she would have a view of it in the mirror on the opposite wall.

“Sure you are, George.” The voice came from the door to the room.

A woman stepped in and Jamie couldn’t help the gasp that flew from her lips. The knife jerked against her throat and she automatically reared up on tiptoes even as she stared into a living, breathing mirror image of herself.

Dakota heard Kit’s voice before he saw her step into the room. When he turned in her direction, she stood, unprotected, and facing the man with a knife at her sister’s throat. He noticed another thing. She’d pulled her hair into the exact same style as Jamie’s – a ragged ponytail.

George’s eyes flew wide as he stared at Kit. His mouth worked but no words came out.

“Hello, George.”

“Who . . . who are you? What are you? Where’d you come from?”

All of George’s previous bravado had fled, leaving the man pale and trembling. A negative situation seeing that the man held a very sharp knife to the throat of the woman Dakota loved.

He prayed Kit was very good at her job.

She stepped forward, voice low, hypnotic almost. “Do you really want to hurt me?”

George blinked. “You? No, Jamie.”

“But I am Jamie.”

What was she doing? Anxiety thrummed through him as he watched the scene before him.
Come on, man, move Jamie just a
little to the right so I or one of my guys can drill you in the head.

George’s eyes blinked rapidly. “No, you’re . . . you . . . can’t be. I have Jamie right here.”

“Jamie’s gone. She died. I’m the one you’ve been looking for all this time.”

Perspiration oozed from the man’s head. His eyes had a frantic dart to them. “Then . . . then who . . .”

“Push her away, George. Look at her face. It’s not Jamie.”

Admiration for Kit swelled inside him. He looked at Connor and saw he understood what she was trying to do. As soon as George turned Jamie to face him or pushed her far enough away to get a good look at her, either he or Connor could put a bullet in the man’s head in less than a second.

But George didn’t respond. He just stared at Kit. She didn’t show any emotion other than soothing friendliness. She continued her end of the conversation. “Did you take your medicine, George? You haven’t been taking your medication, have you?”

His eyes flared. “How did you know? No one knows about my medicine, no one!”

“But you had me here for a long time. I know a lot of things about you.” She sauntered forward, careful to stay out of the line of fire, and held out her wrists. “Want to put the cuffs on? You have them, don’t you?”

“The voices, I want them to stop.” He continued to blink rapidly, his breathing turned into pants.

Dakota kept his eyes on Jamie. She kept hers on Kit. Alert, focused, looking for an opportunity to escape.
Be careful, darlin’,
be careful.

Kit moved a step closer. George screamed, “Stop! Don’t come any closer to me! I killed you! You’re dead! See?”

For a fraction of a second, the knife dipped as he tried to get a look at the woman in his clutches.

A shot rang out. The bullet caught George in the shoulder instead of the head because he’d shifted at the last nanosecond. But it was good enough.

Blood spurted, the knife flew up, then down. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Kit grabbed Jamie’s hand and yanked. Dakota dove for the two of them. They went down together and he rolled, taking the women with him and covering them with his body.

Another shot, the thump of a body hitting the floor.

A gurgling, bubbling, horrific noise.

It all registered in surround sound.

Then silence.

Jamie pushed against him. “Let me up, Dakota.”

“Yeah, big guy, you’re kind of heavy,” Kit grunted.

He rolled once more and took in the scene. SWAT members swarmed George, but one look told Dakota it was too late. The man was dead.

They rolled him over and Dakota pulled in a deep breath. He heard Jamie gasp and Kit muttered under her breath.

George’s knife, the one that had killed so many, taken so many innocent lives with one violent slash, now protruded from its owner’s throat.

Jamie stood on trembling legs. She forced them to carry her over to the man she’d known as George. Looking down at him, she whispered under her breath, “‘For you have been called for this purpose, since Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example for you to follow in His steps, who committed no sin, nor was any deceit found in His mouth; and while being reviled, He did not revile in return; while suffering, He uttered no threats, but kept entrusting
Himself
to Him who judges righteously.’” Dakota squeezed her hand. “‘You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.’”

At her surprise, he shrugged, “I’ve been doing a little reading in my spare time. Psalm 32:7.”

Tears flooded her eyes and she threw her arms around his neck.

He gathered her to him and buried his face in her hair. “I love you, Jamie,” he whispered.

She took a breath to respond, felt the world tilt, then stepped into the blackness.