“Stop right there or I swear I’ll kill you both where you stand,” said a guttural voice.
Dizzy with terror, Jess raised her hands to shoulder level and slowly turned to face the man. “What do you want?” she panted.
“I want you dead.” His mouth twisted into an ugly smile as he leveled a deadly looking pistol on Nicolas. “Both of you.”
“Don’t hurt him,” she cried. “He’s just an innocent little boy.”
The man looked about as sympathetic as a snake about to devour a mouse. With the gun never wavering from Nicolas, he tugged out his cell phone. “I got ’em. On the beach just south of the house.” He paused. “Do you want to talk to them or do you want me to do them right here? Okay…” he said, and hung up.
Do them…
He’s going to kill us
, Jess thought, and her heart went wild in her chest.
The gunman’s rodentlike eyes sought hers as he raised the pistol to her chest. “This ain’t your lucky day,” he said.
Chapter Four
Jess couldn’t believe her life was going to end this way. The only decision left was whether she was going to make a run for it and take a bullet in the back or put her arms around the frightened child at her side and wait for the killing shot.
“Please don’t,” she said.
Beside her, Nicolas gripped her leg, keening as he rocked back and forth.
I’m sorry, Angela
, she thought. In the back of her mind she wondered where Madrid was. If he’d been shot or perhaps already killed…
Dropping to her knees, Jess put her arms around the little boy and turned her back to the man. She closed her eyes and held Nicolas tightly against her. “It’s going to be all right,” she whispered.
But the lie broke her heart.
A wave crashed off to her right. The wind buffeted her. At some point the rain had soaked clean through to her skin. The precious last moments of her life…
A gunshot shattered her thoughts. Jess opened her eyes to see the man with the gun crumple to the sand.
A second man descended the wooden steps at a rapid clip, a gun silhouetted in his hand.
With no time to think, she grabbed Nicolas’s hand, lunged to her feet and pulled him into a dead run down the beach. “Run!” she screamed. “Faster!”
She tried to keep Nicolas close to the rocks for cover. The sand hindered her, but she plowed through.
“Jess!”
Somewhere in the back of her mind it registered that someone had called her name. But she was operating on pure terror and the primal will to survive. A glance over her shoulder told her the man was gaining on them.
Oh, dear God, he’s going to catch us!
“Stop!”
She screamed when a heavy hand came down on her shoulder. Spinning in midstride, she let go of Nicolas’s hand and shoved the boy away. “Run!”
Hoping the little boy understood, she faced her attacker and lashed out with her fists. “Get away from me!” she screamed.
The man took her down into the sand. “Easy! It’s me. Madrid.”
The cloak of terror lifted and Jess stopped fighting. Breathing hard, she looked up at the man on top of her. At some point she had begun to cry, huge choking sobs ripping from her throat. “He was going to—”
“He didn’t.” Madrid eased off her and went to his knees beside her in the sand. “Take it easy.”
“He was going to kill us.” Jess knew it was silly, considering she’d just cheated death, but she couldn’t stop crying. “He was going to kill that innocent little boy.”
“You’re okay now.” Madrid reached for her and they rose together.
“Where’s Nicolas?”
“He’s right here. He’s fine.”
Another sob squeezed from her throat when the little boy grabbed her leg and held on. “Are there more of them?” Setting her hand against Nicolas’s soft hair, she looked around.
“No.”
“Oh God, Madrid, I was so scared.”
“You’re safe now. Both of you.”
It seemed only natural when he took her into his arms. His body was solid and warm against hers. Vaguely she was aware of him pulling Nicolas to them. The little boy was keening. Jess had one arm around Madrid. She put the other on Nicolas’s shoulder and squeezed gently.
“You’re going to be all right,” Madrid said.
But Jess didn’t feel as if she was going to be all right ever again.
M
ADRID WASN’T EXACTLY
sure what had happened on the beach a few minutes ago, but he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Even when Angela’s boat was nearly swamped by five-foot swells on the way back to the mainland, he found himself thinking about the way Jess had felt in his arms. He didn’t know what he was going to do about it. Nothing, if he was smart. But Madrid had never claimed to be smart when it came to women in danger.
The one thing he did know was that they needed to find out who was trying to murder Jess and Nicolas. He
knew they would be back to finish the job. He’d have to figure out the rest of it later.
Instead of returning to the marina where Angela had kept the
Riptide
in a slip, he headed south, where the beach was less rocky and he could ground the boat without fear of shattering the hull.
“Where are we going?”
He looked up to see Jess and Nicolas huddled at the rear of the boat. He’d found a slicker earlier and Jess had wrapped the boy in it. Not that it helped much. All three of them were soaked to the skin. The wind was out of the northwest and the chill factor hovered somewhere around the forty-degree mark.
“We’re going to ditch the boat and go ashore,” he said.
“How do we know they won’t be waiting for us?”
He didn’t like it that her teeth were chattering, that she was wet and exposed. It wouldn’t take long for hypothermia to set in. “We don’t.” But their pursuers were resourceful; it wouldn’t be long before they caught up.
Giving Nicolas a kiss on top of his wet head, Jess rose and crossed to Madrid. “We’ve got to get this child to a warm and safe place,” she said. “He’s been through a terrible ordeal. He’s cold and frightened and—”
“I know,” Madrid snapped. He hated seeing the little boy so ashen and silent, especially after losing his mother. The problem was he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“There has to be someone.”
Madrid knew someone. The problem was he didn’t want to put that person in danger. But the way things
were going, he didn’t think he had a choice. “I have a place in mind.”
Dawn broke with a mosaic of pastels on the western horizon. Madrid steered the open fisherman south through heavy surf, then cut east toward the beach when he saw the old fishing pier. Using the pier as cover, he beached the boat. He stepped into knee-high water and helped Jess and Nicolas from the boat, then picked up the satchel of items he’d collected at Angela’s place.
“What’s in the bag?” Jess asked.
“Let’s just say Angela was a firm believer in keeping resources handy.”
Her brows went together. “If it’s food you’re hoarding, Nicolas could use—”
“It’s not food,” Madrid cut in. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Fine.”
They trudged through sand toward the coastal road a hundred yards away. “I need to get Nicolas into some dry clothes.”
Looking back at him, Madrid noticed Nicolas’s teeth were chattering like little jackhammers. When they caught up with him, Madrid stooped and took the boy into his arms. “My body heat will help keep him warm.”
Jess blinked at him. “Good.”
Even cold and wet and frightened she was pretty. Against her pale complexion her eyes were dark and her lips were beginning to turn blue. He couldn’t stop thinking about how good she’d felt in his arms.
Berating himself for dwelling on something he had
no business dwelling on, he turned right at the highway toward the small fishing village of Rocky Fork half a mile down the road. Madrid wasn’t sure if he would be welcomed there; he hadn’t exactly left on good terms some eleven years earlier.
But with an injured woman and a child in need of shelter and food, he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. He only hoped they didn’t turn him away at the door.
B
Y THE TIME THEY REACHED
Rocky Fork, Jess was ready to collapse with exhaustion and cold. Her arm throbbed with every beat of her heart. Next to her, holding Nicolas, Madrid looked neither cold nor tired. The one thing she didn’t miss was the wariness in his eyes and the fact that he looked over his shoulder every couple of minutes. It was enough to keep her going.
“You think they’ll be back?” she asked.
“I think it’s only a matter of time.” He motioned toward an old stone church and they took the cobblestone walkway toward the rear.
“Why are we stopping here?”
“I know a guy” was all he said.
At the rear of the building Madrid shoved open a heavy wood door and held it for Jess. She stepped inside.
The interior of the old church was dimly lit, but warm. Scents of incense and candle wax floated in the air. Beyond the small nave and old-fashioned pews stood the altar, framed by stained glass windows that rose twenty feet into the air.
“Welcome to St. Augustine. May I help you?”
Jess spun to see a tall man approach. The darkness of his hair and eyes was echoed in his slacks and jacket. She never would have pegged him as a priest, but the collar gave him away.
His friendly smile faded when he spotted Madrid, and for a moment the two men looked very much alike.
“Surprised to see me?” Madrid asked.
“I’m surprised you’re still alive,” said the priest.
“It hasn’t been easy.” Madrid extended his hand. “I need your help.”
“Of course you do.” But the other man accepted the handshake. “That’s the only time I see you. When you need something or when you’re bleeding.”
“This time it’s not about me.”
The priest’s eyes flicked to Jess, then to Nicolas. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”
“I’ll fill you in later.” Madrid turned to Jess. “Matt, this is Jessica Atwood. Jess, this is my brother, Father Matthew Madrid.”
For a moment Jess was so shocked she couldn’t speak. Of all the things she’d expected, this was not it. Trying to hide her surprise, she extended her hand. “Hello.”
The other man took it, squeezed it. He had the warmest, most open smile of any man she’d ever met. “Welcome to St. Augustine.” Father Matthew motioned toward Nicolas. “And the boy?”
“Angela’s.”
“Ah. How is she?”
Madrid’s face darkened. “She’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.” Father Matthew looked taken aback. “How—”
“Is there some place we can talk? Get dry?” Madrid glanced toward the door, a motion that was not lost on his brother.
The priest hesitated.
“Please.” Jess reached out and touched the priest’s arm. “Nicolas needs dry clothes and something to eat.”
“Of course.” Father Matthew motioned toward a door to the right of the chancel rail. “There’s an old rectory that’s not being used.”
He led them through a courtyard to a quaint stucco building not much bigger than a single-car garage. The combined living room and kitchen had old, but functional furniture and the place smelled of dust and air freshener, but it was warm and dry and at the moment Jess couldn’t think of any place more inviting.
“There are towels in the hall closet,” Father Matthew said. “Blankets on the bed. Extras in the closet.”
“Thank you,” Jess said.
Father Matthew smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Madrid crossed to him and shoved several bills into his hand. “Can you get us some food?”
The two brothers’ eyes met. “You owe me an explanation.”
“You’ll get it.”
“I know what kind of lifestyle you lead, Mike. I’m not condemning it, but there are women and children here. I don’t want them in danger.”
“No one knows we’re here.” He grimaced. “We won’t stay long.”
Father Matthew’s eyes went to Jess, and he nodded solemnly. “We’ll talk later,” he said, and let himself out.
J
ESS FELT ALMOST HUMAN
after a hot shower. After re-bandaging her arm, which looked much better thanks to Angela’s antibiotics, she emerged to find that Madrid had washed their clothes. Afterward, she bathed Nicolas, and then the three of them sat at the small kitchen table and feasted on the hot soup and sandwiches Father Matthew had brought them.
“We need to talk.”
Jess was sitting next to Nicolas, watching him play with a toy truck Father Matthew had brought him, when Madrid’s voice came at her from behind. Giving the boy a kiss on top of his head, she rose and turned to Madrid. He seemed incredibly tall, and she resisted the urge to look away as his dark eyes searched hers. “All right,” she said.
He motioned to the kitchen table where two cups of coffee sat steaming. “It’s instant.”
“As long as it’s hot.” She took a final look at Nicolas, then walked to the table and sat. “It was nice of your brother to take us in.”
Madrid smiled. “He got the good genes.”
“He knows you have a dangerous job.”
He took the chair opposite her. “He’s saved my ass on more than one occasion.”
“What he said about endangering the children—”
He cut her off. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
Jess sensed she wasn’t going to like what he said next.
“I need to work,” he began. “I want you and Nicolas to stay here with Father Matthew.”
“No.” The word was out before she could consider
the repercussions. But Jess didn’t have to think about it. There was no way she could walk away from this after everything that had happened.
“Nicolas has been through enough.” He glanced toward the little boy. “He needs normalcy. A routine. He’s not going to get that with me.”
“Those things were taken away from him the night someone put a bullet in his mother,” Jess snapped.
“You’re the only adult he knows. He needs you here with him.”
“He can stay with Father Matthew for a few days,” she said. “At least until we figure this out.”
“Jess, this may take more than a few days. My brother is a stranger to him.”
“Madrid, don’t try to manipulate me using that child. I have to get to the bottom of this. Damn it, my life is on the line. I have far too much at stake to hand everything over to you.”