Taken - Before her very Eyes (14 page)

Dean climbed from the car,
careful not to strain his abdomen muscles and stood on the side of the road,
beside the bridge. His eyes followed the winding water as it twisted and turned
along the downtown until it disappeared in the distance, around the bend at the
park.

He shivered, feeling the morning
sun on his back and was glad that the rain had stopped. In his current weakened
condition, the last thing he wanted was to be soaking wet.

“Come on, Dean.” Gavin glanced at
his watch then crossed the road. “Let’s ask around and see what’s happening.”

The last Percocet he’d taken was
beginning to kick in. His head was spinning and his legs felt like rubber as he
struggled to keep up to Gavin, who seemed to be on a mission. He had almost
caught up when he recognized Ike Turner, the local news reporter standing at
the back of the crowd of reporters, giving a sound bite for the camera.

Dean turned and headed straight
for him. If anybody knew what was going on around here, it’d be Ike. But Dean
didn’t have to walk far. It seemed that Ike had recognized him, too, because he
and his camera man were now racing across the parking lot toward him.

“Mr. Demure,” Ike said, jockeying
for position before the camera. “I thought you would still be in the hospital.”

Dean forced a grin. “They let me
out on good behaviour.”

“I heard you were stabbed only hours
ago. Is this true?”

Dean nodded. “What’s going on
here? Is all this because of Sabrina’s kidnapping?”

Ike looked slightly confused.
“Yes, the kidnapping, but also the ransom deadline is approaching and we’re
waiting for John Scott to be released.”

“What the hell are you talking
about!” Dean stumbled forward, grabbing Ike’s shoulder. “There’s a ransom for
Sabrina?”

The outburst attracted the
attention of the other reporters who, after a brief discussion, all must have
decided that Dean’s story was worth filling in the time as they gathered their
equipment and raced toward them.

“Yes. You haven’t heard?” Ike
glared at the approaching competition. “Of course you haven’t. You’ve just come
from surgery. How stupid could I be? The kidnapper left a ransom note demanding
that John Scott be released at ten o’clock this morning. Now, if you’ll step
into my van we can—”

Dean spotted Gavin talking to an
officer beside the barricades and took off shoving his way through the sea of
reporters as they inundated him with every question possible. But Dean couldn’t
be bothered with their questions, for he had a question of his own swirling
around in his mind. One that he needed answered right now.

“Gavin,” Dean grabbed him roughly
by the shirt collar and pushed him through the two barricades, “did you know
anything about the ransom to have that bastard released?”

The officer standing guard
started to protest, then recognized Dean and stepped back, grabbing for his
radio.

“How the fuck would I know
something like that?” Gavin whispered.

Dean leaned in and lowered his
voice. “Cause you already tried to have him killed.”

“Not killed.” Gavin broke free of
Dean’s grip. “Just messed up.”

“How do I know you’re not in on
this?”

“Because I wanna see the fucker
pay his price, not walk away free.”

Dean wanted to believe him. He
prayed that Gavin wasn’t involved in this mess, but the evidence was piling up
and even he couldn’t look past all the coincidences.

“But why the hell would someone
kidnap Sabrina just to get John Scott released from jail?” Dean muttered. “How
the hell could they possibly plan to get away with it? Half the cops in the
country will be on the lookout for them the minute Sabrina’s released—unless
they don’t plan on releasing her.”

The sight of Summer stepping out
the front door of the station was enough to send Dean into a rage. He wanted
answers and he wanted them right now. Dean stormed across the grass, glaring up
at her as she stood on the edge of the steps, her face looking a mix between
sorrow and happiness. Maybe it was the painkillers, but he swore she never
looked as beautiful as she did right now. Her blond hair was blowing in the
morning breeze, and for the first time in a long time there was a glow to her
skin. He knew that if Sabrina was safe and sound, he’d run up the stairs, scoop
Summer into his arms and take them as far away from this place as possible,
because all he wanted right now was to get his family back and get things back
to normal.

“Summer,” Dean said, his anger
fading with every step he took. “Why—” His words caught in his throat as Nate
stepped out those same doors and placed his arm around Summer’s shoulders,
almost smothering her with his massive size. Dean had been right. She never
pulled away from Nate’s touch. Maybe Nate was the reason that she wanted a
separation? Maybe he’d talked her into it, hoping to snatch her away while she
was vulnerable?

Dean staggered up to the top
step, holding his wound tightly, feeling the ripping pain inside. “Get your
hands off my wife!”

Nate immediately removed his arm
from Summer’s shoulder. Probably not out of fear for Dean, but more fear of
what the media would do with the story. “Sorry, Dean. I was only taking care of
her.”

“Dean, don’t start,” Summer
whispered, stepping closer. “I’m in no mood to listen to your ranting about our
relationship. Not now. Not with Sabrina missing.”

Dean stood glaring up at Nate
until his vision began to blur, then turned to Summer. “Why didn’t you tell me
about the ransom?”

“When? When could I?”

“At the hospital. You could’ve
told me then.”

“And what difference would it
have made? It would’ve only ended up in another fight and you…” Summer smiled
as the tears began flowing. “You stupid ass. Why aren’t you in the hospital?
You know you’re in no shape to be out walking around.”

“How can I just lie around when
he has Sabrina? I never could when they took you, so what makes you think I
could now.” Dean reached out his hand to Summer, waiting to feel her touch. He
didn’t care how long it would take, he was willing to stand there forever until
she took his hand. He watched her eyes move from his hand clenching the wound,
to his tearful eyes, then to his outstretched hand quivering before her.

It took a few seconds, but her
fingers reluctantly met his, sliding down over his palm and the warmth of her
touch ignited his body.

Dean smiled. He felt complete for
the first time since John Scott had entered their lives. “I just don’t know
where to start looking,” he said, taking the last step up and standing beside
Summer. “Help me. Give me a clue. Any direction and I’ll go search for her.”

“I wish I knew.” Summer shook her
head. “But nothing’s surfaced. We’re waiting for the chief to release John
Scott, then hopefully the kidnapper releases Sabrina right away. Otherwise
we’ll tail John Scott and hope he leads us to the hideout.”

Dean gave her hand a squeeze. “I
don’t like the thought of that bastard walking free. Not after what he’s done
to you.”

Summer leaned closer and Dean
could feel her warm breath on his cheek. “Don’t worry. They won’t let him get
far. Nate’s in charge of the tail and I promise he’ll do everything in his
power to stop them and get Sabrina back.”

Dean looked past Summer, up at
Nate who was busy scanning the crowd around the station. “I’m sorry for jumping
all over you, Nate. I had no right taking my frustration out on you.”

“I understand where you’re coming
from, but just don’t make a habit of it.” Nate tipped his chin to the crowd.
“What the hell is Gavin Stone doing here?”

“Sorry, he came with me. I
borrowed a change of clothing and he wanted to help.”

“Help interfere in the
investigation’s more like it.”

“What do you have against him?”
Dean asked. “He’s done his time, Nate. What else do you want from him?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t trust
that guy.” Nate looked Dean in the eyes. “For your own sake, keep a close eye
on him and don’t let him loose in that business.”

Summer pulled her hand free and
glanced at the time. “Nine fifty-eight. Shit, where is he?” She dug in her
pocket, withdrew the cell phone and flipped it open, making sure it was on as
Nate turned and disappeared inside the station, drawing the attention of all
the reporters.

“What exactly did the ransom note
say?” Dean asked.

Summer turned and peered through
the glass doors. “To release John Scott at ten o’clock sharp, then to hand him
my phone. I suspect the kidnapper’s going to call him and make sure he’s free
before Sabrina’s released.”

Dean felt sick to his stomach
with worry and didn’t know how much more he could take today. “Do you really
think he’ll let Sabrina go?”

“He has to.” Summer started
shaking. “It’s part of the deal.”

“It just sounds sloppy to me.
It’s one of those, who lets who go first deal. The minute he releases Sabrina
then he’s lost his security and the minute we release John Scott then we’ve
lost our bargaining power.”

When the automatic doors whined
into action, Dean placed his arm around Summer’s waist, feeling the tremors
that she was fighting to control. This was the first time he’d been able to
hold Summer. And now, feeling this once strong warrior trembling in
anticipation of the man who’d attacked her, he finally understood how damaged
she really was. Despite how she tried to hide the fear from him, she was a
complete mess inside. How could he have not seen the extent that John Scott had
hurt her? How could he not have known that inside that frail petite body lives
a growing fetus—their love child. Dean placed his other hand on the slight
bulge beneath her shirt as John Scott stepped through the doorway and out into
the bright sunlight. Or that bastard’s child.

The shouts from the reporters
grew louder and louder with every step John Scott took toward the stairs.
Despite his battered appearance, he seemed to be getting the rock star greeting
from the press who were all screaming their questions, trying to out shout
their competition.

Chief Dickson followed John Scott
to the edge of the top step and held up his hands to the sea of reporters.
“Quiet down, please! Mr. Scott will be glad to take your questions one at a
time, but only if you behave in an orderly fashion.”

“Are you associated with the
kidnapper?” One reporter bellowed over the rest. “And if so, how does he plan
to release the hostage?”

John Scott held a hand above his
eyes, blocking the glare of the sunlight. He didn’t seem bothered by the mass
of reporters or the amount of cameras trained on his battered face

“I’m an innocent man. The cops
dropped all the charges.” He scanned the crowd of cops standing in front of the
station and smiled when he spotted Summer and Dean. “As far as what happened to
Officer Demure, I’m sure she had it coming to her. I’m just sad I didn’t get to
be a part of it.”

Dean couldn’t believe the bastard
had the balls to say something like that—and in front of all the reporters and
cameras, too. He let go of Summer and took a step toward John Scott, feeling
her latch onto his hand.

“No, Dean! Don’t do it,” Summer
said. “That’s… exactly what he wants.”

“You son of a bitch!” Dean walked
right up to him, seeing the flashes from cameras reflecting in the glass front
of the station. “How dare you speak to my wife like that! I know you’re guilty
and I know you’re behind Sabrina’s kidnapping, too.”

A phone began ringing in the
distance, but Dean could barely hear it as the blood was pounding in his ears.
He’d never been so mad as he was right now, standing inches from the bastard
who’d ruined his life. He wanted to reach out and smack that stupid grin right
off his face, but he knew he’d fall flat on his own face in his current
condition if he even tried.

John Scott leaned in close to
Dean and whispered, “What’s the matter? She too loose for you now?”

Something snapped. He could feel
his arm moving, but couldn’t control it if his life depended on it. The pain in
his stomach was excruciating as his fist connected with John Scott’s swollen
jaw, but it was worth it. The punch felt so satisfying, but he wished he wasn’t
injured so he could continue the fight until he’d ripped the bastard’s head
right off, but instead he’d lost his balance and toppled down to the concrete,
doubled over in pain.

The feeling of satisfaction
lasted only briefly. John Scott recovered and gave a swift kick to his stomach
as Dean landed on the concrete. The shot felt a hundred times worse than any
normal kick should have and the bright flashes of light behind his eyelids
didn’t seem right. Dean rolled onto his back, reeling in pain and felt the gun
digging into him.

“Maybe your daughter will get the
same treatment as your w—”

Dean opened his eyes and saw the
last words from John Scott being cut off by the massive right hook from Nate.
He was so grateful that Nate was there to defend Summer while he was down for
the count.

Bracing himself on his elbow,
Dean reached behind his back and pulled the gun from his waist band. He knew
there was no way he could let John Scott walk away from here. Could never
chance him getting his hands on Sabrina. He raised the gun in the mist of all
the confusion and aimed it at John Scott’s head.

The look on John Scott’s face was
priceless. It was as if he never expected to see Dean with a gun—let alone a
gun trained between his eyes. There was a moment of satisfaction knowing that
John Scott wasn’t immune to fear. That he could be manipulated like the rest of
mankind.

Every police officer drew their
weapon, training them on Dean’s body.

“Drop the gun, Dean!” Nate
yelled, taking a step closer to where Dean was lying.

A phone continued to ring in the
distance as Dean lined the sight up with John Scott’s nose. He knew at this
range, he’d never miss the shot and John Scott would be dead before his body
hit the concrete.