All The Stars In Heaven (26 page)

Chapter Forty-Eight

“Christa, call the police,” Jay said.

“I already have.”

“Then I
really
have to get out there.” Feeling a heightened sense of urgency, Sarah reached for the door. “If the police show up before I cross the street, he’ll take James.”

Jay put his hand over hers. “I’m coming too.”

“You’d only be a liability. It’s me they want.” She opened the door and stepped outside.

Jay followed. “There’s no way I’m letting you go over there by yourself.”

She turned around to face him. “You don’t have a choice.” She looked over his shoulder at Christa, who hovered in the doorway, tears streaking down her face. “Keep him here. Or James won’t be safe.”

Christa put her hand on Jay’s arm. “Please let her get him,” she begged. “Then you can go.”

“
Then
may be too late,” Jay said, but he allowed Christa to pull him back into the house.

“Thank you,” Christa called just before closing the door.

Don’t thank me yet.
Head held high and wobbly from all the curlers, Sarah walked across the street, zipping up her coat.

The man next to James straightened, and his eyes zeroed in on hers. At the house behind him, another child was being picked up from the party. Sarah slowed her walk, angling herself toward James. When she was halfway across the street and the mother and child had safely pulled away from the curb, she called out, “Send him home now.”

The man snickered. “You think I’m stupid?”

Sarah kept walking while at least part of her brain acknowledged that her sudden courage was being fueled by anger. That
was
stupid—and dangerous.

With hurried steps she reached James’s side. She knelt, pulling him forward in a hug. “It’s all right. You go home now—
run.
”

James tried to move, but the man still held his coat tight.

“I’m here,” Sarah said. “Let him go.”

The man’s gaze flickered behind her for half a second before releasing James, who took off as fast as his trembling three-year-old legs would go.

“Stand up and get in the car.”

Sarah started to rise, then fell backward, pretending to slip in the icy street. The man swore under his breath and reached for her.

Sarah recoiled. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed, looking up at him with hatred in her eyes. “I can get up myself.” She twisted to the side, crossing her legs, bracing her right hand on the street as she got up. There was no need to exaggerate her slow, awkward movements. Her arm was still badly bruised.

Rising sideways to the man, she put her left hand on the car hood when she was about three-fourths of the way up and her footing was sure. Her right hand slid into her pocket. It rested on the gun for a fraction of a second, then curled around the smaller object beside it. Pulling her pepper spray out, she turned on him, pushing the canister down with all her might.

He yelped, one hand going to his eyes, the other reaching out for the spray. Before he could grab it, Sarah whirled around—and ran straight into the barrel of a mini UZI. The same guy who’d accosted her in the alley stared down at her. She shuddered and stepped back, trying not to look at his face, which was covered with deep scratches—marks no doubt made by her fingernails.

Always watch your back.
Good advice. Too bad she hadn’t followed it.

“Clever, aren’t you, beauty queen?” His mouth curved upward as he appraised her.

Sarah couldn’t tell whether he was more amused by her curlers or her attempt with the spray. Behind her, his partner was still holding his eyes and cursing.

“Get in the car, Sid,” the machine-gun guy ordered. To Sarah he said, “We can do this easy, or I can go across the street and get the kid again. Or, there’s plenty of kids in that house right there.” He nodded toward the home where the party had been.

Sarah glanced at it and saw the trio of snowmen built in the front yard.

She shook her head. “I don’t want company.”
Any time now,
she thought, wondering what was taking the police so long. And she’d been worried they’d get here
too
fast.

“Hand over the pepper spray.”

Sarah dropped it, then kicked it under the car.
Never give your weapon to your enemy. If you’re forced to surrender it, drop it or throw it away. Don’t give them one more thing to use against you.
Her dad was starting to make a lot of sense. Sid would, no doubt, have loved the chance to get her back. She forced her lips into a thin line as she looked at machine-gun guy’s scratched face again.

“Get in back behind the driver’s seat,” he ordered.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Boss wants to chat with you. Otherwise I’d take care of things right here. You’ve been enough trouble.”

They call him Boss?
Her anger flared again. “My dad needs to learn to use the phone if he wants to talk to me.”

The man snickered. “Your dad’s as much the boss as I’m the president of the United States.” He nudged her with the gun.

Sarah moved carefully in front of him, internalizing what he’d said. If her dad wasn’t in charge of Carl and these thugs, who was? A ripple of fear went down her spine. She reached the car door and hesitated.
Never,
ever
get in a car with a stranger.

“Open the door,” he ordered.

Unless he has a machine gun at your back and there are kids around? Does that count?
She pulled on the handle, plan B forming in her mind as she set one foot inside the car.

“Sarah!”

Jay. Oh, no.

Her abductor pushed down on her head, trying to shove her into the back seat. Her scalp tingled as the hundreds of hairs wound in the perm rods pulled. She kept one foot outside the car.

“Hey, wait!” Through the tinted glass she saw Jay charging down the walk, waving his hands. Her abductor turned away, gun trained on Jay.

No—not again.
Sarah threw her strength into pushing the door open. Her abductor lurched forward, and she jumped from the car. His gun was still aimed at Jay, who had reached the far curb.

“Get in or I kill him,” he said.

The wail of a siren pierced the air, distracting the man for the half second Sarah needed to get her finger around the pistol in her pocket and pull the trigger.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Sarah dropped to the ground and rolled behind the car. She wasn’t sure if she’d hit anything but knew it wasn’t wise to hang around to find out. The sirens grew closer. The engine started suddenly, releasing a puff of exhaust. Coughing, she crawled up on the sidewalk to avoid being backed over. Looking up, she saw Sid’s face in the passenger mirror. His bloodshot eyes met hers for a second before the car took off. A cruiser screamed around the corner, on its heels.

Sarah jumped up. “Go!” she shouted to Jay, shooing him toward the house. The cruiser slammed on the brakes, stopping at her side of the road. Sarah looked over and saw Kirk’s face, as wild and anxious as Christa’s had been. She pulled open the passenger door.

“James?”

“Safe,” Sarah gasped. “In the house.”

Kirk whipped his head around to the back seat. “Get Jeffrey out.”

Sarah closed the front door, opened the back, and pulled Jeffrey from the car. She’d barely closed the door when Kirk sped off. A few neighbors had come outside to see what the commotion was. Keeping her head down, Sarah carried Jeffrey across the street, into the house.

Christa sat in the rocker holding James, tears streaming down both their cheeks. “Thank you,” she said to Sarah. “Thank you for saving my baby.”

Sarah turned away. Thanks was the last thing she deserved when all of this was her fault. Leaving them, she went through the kitchen and downstairs, carefully locking the door behind her so the boys couldn’t come in.

Jay was waiting for her. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close. “Nice shot.”

“Did I hit something?” Sarah asked.

“His hand, I think, and the side mirror. Ought to make driving interesting.”

“When he got in the car, I was going to—shoot him from behind.” Sarah felt her stomach roil and a cold sweat break out across her forehead. The terrible realization of what she might have done—what she wasn’t sure she could do at all—hit hard.

Jay’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve got a bit of a violent streak I wasn’t aware of.”

She forced a weak laugh. “Desperate times.”

“Desperate measures,” he finished.

“Speaking of which,” Sarah said, “making yourself a target wasn’t exactly smart.”

“Bulletproof vest.” He leaned over, picking it up off the floor.

“Okay, not
quite
as stupid as I thought. But you could have been shot in the head or—”

“Why do you think I was running around?” Jay asked. “Moving targets are harder to hit.”

“He had an UZI,” Sarah said.

“Oh.” Their banter ceased suddenly, and Jay pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest. “Don’t
ever
do anything like that again.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“I know,” Jay said. “Just the same. Don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t.” She adjusted her head to a more comfortable position, and they stayed in their embrace, waiting as they listened to more sirens outside and footsteps on the floor above.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, a knock on the door startled them both. Jay was the first to get up off the floor where he and Sarah had been sitting. He held his good hand out, helping Sarah up.

“The timer went off.” It was Christa’s voice. “We’ve got to rinse your hair.”

Sarah opened the door. Christa stood on the bottom step, her red, puffy face beaming with gratitude. “Thank you,” she said in a hoarse voice.

“Is James all right?” Sarah asked.

Christa nodded. “He’s napping now, and Jeffrey is watching a movie in my room. They’re fine. Kirk’s outside talking to some Cambridge officers. They didn’t catch the car.”

“How about you?” Jay asked, coming up behind Sarah. “How is Mom doing?”

“Don’t ask.” Christa attempted a smile. “You should stay down here a while longer. The officers will want to talk with Sarah and me.” She started up the stairs. “Come on. We need to hurry. I have an idea how we can hide your face.”

“I’ll be in the food storage suite if you need me,” Jay said, closing the door behind them.

Sarah followed Christa to the sink and leaned her head over, grimacing as the rods pulled at her scalp.

“Sorry,” Christa apologized. “This is the worst part.”

“You said that when you put the solution on,” Sarah reminded her.

“That’s usually true, but when the police come in I’m going to have you stay here. We’ll keep a towel over your face—to protect your eyes—and I’ll remove the curlers very slowly. You’ll be able to talk and answer questions, but the officers won’t see your face.”

“What do I tell them?” Sarah asked.

“Stick as close to the truth as possible; tell them you were trying to prevent a kidnapping,” Christa advised. “But don’t use your real name.”

“What about the note?” Sarah asked.

“If we show that to them, it will give you away.” Christa handed Sarah a towel and unrolled the first rod.

“Jay and I can’t stay here anymore,” Sarah said. “We’re too big a risk for your family.”

“It’s too big a risk for all of us.” Christa sighed as she glanced out to the living room where the Christmas tree stood. “We all have to leave.”

Chapter Fifty

Jay stretched out on the air mattress, his attempt at a nap cut short by the consistent thuds coming from the floor above—the cowboys were back in action. Jay wondered why it was that children seemed to have inexhaustible sources of energy as well as the ability to rebound quickly after a crisis. When he thought of James and then Sarah outside with those men this morning, he felt helpless, terrified, and angry all over again. But James, at least, sounded like he was well on his way to recovering from the ordeal.

Jay rolled to his good side and glanced at the travel clock on the floor. 2:36.
What in the world is she still doing up there?
He’d heard the police come and go, but no one had come downstairs to tell him what happened. He worried about that and about Sarah’s hair. What could possibly be taking so long? She was under a lot of stress right now, and he didn’t think doing something extreme would help. He tried not to think of her pretty blond hair falling to the floor in foot-long pieces. Jay rolled to his back again.
It’s her hair, her life,
he reminded himself. Trouble was, he wanted it to be
their
life.
Maybe someday . . .

A quiet knock sounded at the bedroom door. Jay tensed, then listened as the rhythmic pounding upstairs continued. Thump, thump. Thump, thump
—Jeffrey.
Thump, thump. Thud
—James tripping and falling to the floor in his too-large cowboy boots. Yep. They’re both still up there.

“Jay?” The door opened a crack. “Are you awake?”

He sat up too fast, wincing as the pain in his back reminded him that he’d not only been shot but had spent the better part of the past two days on an air mattress with at least a couple of leaks.

“I’m up. Come in.”

The door opened and Sarah stood in the doorway, a shy, uncertain smile on her face.

“Wow,” Jay said, his eyes goggling as he struggled to get up off the floor. “Come here.”

She stepped into the room.

He braced himself on the buckets of wheat and stood, heart thumping loudly as he took in her appearance. All thoughts of kidnappers and police fled as he gazed at the soft blond curls that framed her face and fell just above her shoulders. Her eyes, free of glasses now that she had her new contacts, seemed bigger and bluer than usual—and after a second Jay realized it was because she was wearing makeup for the first time that he could remember. It wasn’t a lot. But a natural pink tinged her cheeks, matching the inviting shimmer on her lips.

Her lips. Man, I want to kiss her.

She’d changed clothes too, and wore a plain, white t-shirt with a pair of form-fitting jeans. Bare feet with painted toenails peeked out from beneath the denim.

“You look—great.”
Great
was an understatement for the transformation. There had to be a better word. He wracked his brain for it.
Beautiful—obviously. Gorgeous—that too. Come-here-before-I-die-just-looking-at-you. Closer. Let-me-run-my-fingers-through-those-curls-and-taste-that-flavor-on-your-lips—yeah, that’s it.

“Jay?” Sarah’s brow wrinkled with concern. “I did wake you. I’m sorry.” She started to back out of the room.

He caught her hand, pulling her closer and pushing the door shut behind them. “I’m plenty awake.” He lifted his free hand to her hair. “May I?”

She nodded.

He wrapped a curl around his finger. “Soft.” He leaned forward. “Smells good, too.”

“Surprised?” Sarah asked.

“Kind of. The smell upstairs worried me. What were you doing up there so long?”

“Christa gave me a permanent. I showed her a picture with curls and asked if she could teach me how to do my hair like that. She thought a perm might be easier than styling it every day.”

“You mean these are going to last?”

“You don’t like them?” Worry reflected in the deepest blue of her eyes.

“I
love
them,” he said. “You look sensational. Your hair, your eyes—your lips.” He let his gaze linger there. “You look hot in those jeans, too.”

She giggled. “No one ever told me I look
hot
before.”

“Well, you do.” He let go of her hand and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “There hasn’t been a day I didn’t think you were beautiful. But right now you look—amazing. You’re gonna turn heads, I’m afraid.” He frowned, worried she would do exactly that.

“There’s only one head that interests me.”

“Oh?” Jay raised his eyebrows.

“May
I . . .
” Hesitant, she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, then rested both her hands at the back of his neck.

“Are you intending to kiss me, Sarah Morgan?”

She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know how.” She broke their gaze, her eyes cast down toward her bright toes, which were scrunching and unscrunching against the carpet. “Another thing I’ve never done before.”

“That’s a problem, isn’t it?”

She nodded but didn’t look up.

“But then, there used to be quite a few things you weren’t certain you could do. We’ve had success with all of them—taking the subway, riding a bike, dancing . . . Of course, kissing is a bit . . . different.”

Jay knew the pink creeping up Sarah’s cheeks had nothing to do with her makeup. He grinned, thoroughly enjoying the moment. “I’m thinking we should start with a very basic kiss. Maybe lip to cheek.”

She shrugged and continued to blush.

He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “I’ll show you,” he whispered, all teasing gone from his voice. He leaned in, placing a chaste kiss on her left cheek.
Her skin feels incredible.
Reluctantly he leaned back. “Well?”

She looked up at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “That was nice.”

Nice?
Jay thought.
I’m barely controlling myself here, and she thinks it’s
nice. “Your turn.”

She took a deep breath, fixed her gaze on a spot on his cheek, and leaned in. The tiniest whisper brushed his face.

“That’s it?” he asked, disappointed.

“That’s all you did.”

“Hmm.” Jay’s mouth twisted as if he were considering some great dilemma. “Guess this means you’re ready for a more advanced lesson.”

“I suppose.”

He looked down. Her toes were still curling, and her hands trembled where they rested on his shoulders. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her waist. “Think you’re up for it?”

“Ja-ay, please.” Sarah’s eyelids fluttered shut. “No more teasing. Just kiss me.”

“My, my. This new haircut is making you bold.”

“
You
make me bold.” Sarah sighed. “Now please give me my first kiss.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“I’ve wanted it for a very long time. I’ve dreamed about it. I’ve—”

“You’ve dreamed about kissing me?”

“Yes.” She didn’t even blush as she admitted it.

“Tell me,” Jay whispered, leaning closer so their foreheads touched. “Tell me what you dreamed.” He reveled in the heady feeling of knowing she wanted him.

“I will . . . later. But first I want to know if what I imagined was right.”

“If you’re sure.” His breath touched her lips as he spoke. Her eyes closed again, and he angled his head to the side, his lips reaching out to hers, warm and inviting.

“Jay. Sarah.” Sharp knocking followed Kirk’s voice.

They jumped apart, Sarah blushing once again, Jay leaning his head back with a sigh of frustration. He glanced at her before opening the door. There was no mistaking the keen disappointment written on her face, and it buoyed his spirits.

“Later,” he whispered. “And that’s a promise.”