Betrayals of the Heart (11 page)

“Ryan’s already in position. He’ll be waiting for you. All we need now is for Steven to give us the rendezvous time.”

She wasn’t at all certain she wanted to see Ryan. The way he’d looked at her crushed her to the bone. He’d lied to her about almost everything, but she’d not only lied to keep her son safe but had been tricked into misleading children and killing innocent people. In her mind, the two offenses were worlds apart and could never be considered an even trade.

He might never want to see her again and she wouldn’t blame him. But what about Nicholas? They still had a son together and would still have to be civil for his sake. Only one outcome could change that and she prayed with everything inside her that’s not how this would go down.

Michael emerged from his bedroom for the first time since Nicholas disappeared and walked up to her. “Mom, I love you. You know that, right?” He reached forward and hugged her, a hug resembling that of a little boy more than a young man standing five foot seven.

“Yes. I love you too.” She often wondered just how much he remembered about their life before they’d escaped. She never stopped worrying about the fact he might be scared by what he saw his father do, what he heard him say about her. Although Michael never said a word, his nightmares told a different story. For some reason, they started when he turned eight. He’d wake up drenched in sweat, calling her name, begging for someone to stop.

The idea he might remember more than she thought tore at her heart even now as she stroked the dark hair from his mature face. He’d been so young then, so innocent. She’d fought to be brave and take her punishments in order to protect him. But the final straw came with lightning speed the day Michael’s tiny body went flying across the hard tiled floor of the kitchen. He’d only wanted more orange juice, but made the mistake of asking for it during one of Steven’s heated explosions.

As Michael lay crying, Steven held her roughly against the granite cabinet top to keep her from running to his side. Michael’s expression of shock and pain still made her break out in cold sweats at night. He’d only called for her twice before pulling himself to his feet and inching down the hallway to his room, his left arm cradled within the other. She could still hear his soft sobs echoing inside her brain, and that low satanic laughter of a man so cold he’d keep a mother from her injured child.

“His nanny will tend to him. That’s her job,” Steven had said, his eyes deadly slits as he dared her to disobey his wishes. “Your job is to take care of me.”

She ran her hand down Michael’s left arm as she held him, the memories still so fresh in her mind. The cast had looked so big on his tiny form. He’d worn it for six weeks and every time she looked at it, she gained strength in her decision to leave. He’d only been three years old. She couldn’t risk sticking around and giving Steven the chance to prove how evil he truly was.

“Michael, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.” Boy, did those statements sound familiar. She’d used the identical words over ten years ago. Two years of planning their escape turned out to be the longest two years of her life. She’d been so scared. One hint of her betrayal and their lives would have taken a drastic turn for the worse. If that were even possible. For Michael’s sake, she’d taken baby steps, made certain never to draw attention to the details of her preparations.

Michael pulled away first, but he said nothing. His hard features revealed more than she ever cared to know and her breath caught deep in her throat. His pain competed with her own. His memories surely stood out more vividly than any experience she’d suffered through. He’d watched. At least she’d been given the luxury of passing out at some point.

“Michael, we’re going to get Nicholas back. I promise.”

“This was my fault.” His eyes moist from withheld tears, he swallowed hard. “We have to.”

Those last words shook her to the core. The intensity of his anguish emerged with each word and dwelled deep within her soul.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t say that.” Makayla tried to embrace him once more, but he shrugged her off and bolted from the room.

“I’ll be back,” he yelled over his shoulder as the front door slammed behind him.

“Michael, no!” This couldn’t be good. She’d never seen him like this. The last thing they needed was Michael putting himself in danger. She had no doubt he’d left to search on his own. The fact scared her to death.

“Someone stop him!” She hurried to the door, swinging the door open to see Michael dodge two policemen before slipping into their neighbor’s backyard. The policemen took off after him, but she knew her son would getaway. He’d been running track and cross country for years.

Michael couldn’t be allowed to make it more than a few blocks. His very life depended on the officers now staking out their property. Why did that fact bother her?

Old feelings of distrust for law enforcement surfaced. Steven wouldn’t hesitate to pay off the local cops, FBI and whoever else crossed his path.

Reluctantly, she picked up the phone and dialed Ryan’s cell phone, unsure if he’d even answer. She needed to at least try to stop her son. Ryan would know exactly what to do.

***

The phone on Ryan’s hip shook as he shifted his weight. He’d just located a vehicle matching the description of the one a neighbor had seen on their block. Little doubt as to its owner floated in the air. The dark vehicle stuck out like a sore thumb in the tiny little suburb. Any limo seen driving down one of the main streets of town had a variety of cans trailing behind it and shoe polish across the back window with the words “Just Married.”

This one sat clean, free of cans, ribbons, and bows. He suspected that a speck of shoe polish had never come close to its spotless windows. The car idled on the side parking lot of an empty warehouse. Although the area was free of signs of life, his gut warned he wouldn’t have to wait long.

“Where are you hiding, you coward?” He gritted his teeth trying to ignore the irritating, but persistent vibration. Whoever dared to call him had a great deal of balls. What if he’d forgotten to switch the setting off? And that’s when it hit him. No one working the case would disturb him during surveillance unless something had gone terribly wrong.

He reached for the phone slowly. His hiding place in the parking lot across the street among a row of used cars for sale lacked the means to move too much without being seen. One slip and the gig was up.

He flipped open his phone on the seat beside him, recognizing the number immediately. His heart jumped to his throat as he pressed the speaker button.

“Makayla, what’s wrong?” Even though he whispered, it seemed to echo loudly within the small space. He scanned the warehouse, keeping close tabs on the vehicle not thirty feet away.

“Michael’s gone.”

What do you mean gone?” His brain struggled to decipher the information. Had Steven been able to get his hands on Michael as well? Impossible. What about all the cops?

“You just let him leave? Why…”

Gunfire ripped through the air across the street. The phone made a soft click as he closed it with his forefinger, his focus glued to the building. Everything inside him wanted to continue the call, find out where the devil Michael took off to. That and he knew his tone was way too rough.

But something was going on in the warehouse and whatever it was wasn’t good. Two men exited the building, carrying a heavy plastic bag. Their cautious body movements were all the proof he needed. He’d hit pay dirt.

The taller of the two men appeared to be taking orders from the shorter muscular man. They made their way around the car to the passenger side where the taller man opened the door as if wanting to put the bag inside.

The next sight disturbed Ryan. The smaller of the two slammed the door, appearing to curse the taller one. Then they walked to the back of the car, scanning the surroundings as if sensing someone watching.

Ryan slumped further in his seat and held his breath.

After several torturous seconds, the men finally turned their attention to the trunk, tapping it three times before it opened. They placed the bag inside and pulled it shut. Then the taller man nodded, making his way to the driver’s side door where he slid behind the wheel. The shorter man just shook his head and then headed back inside the warehouse.

“What the hell?” The car slowly eased out of the gravel driveway and headed back to town, leaving Ryan more confused than ever.

His mind raced. Should he follow? Call Special Agent Harrington? It was risky. They had no idea how many suspects were a part of the kidnapping. The video only showed the girl at the front door and the limo in the driveway. The fact Steven had the gall to actually park in the driveway during the kidnapping really infuriated him. Of course he doubted Steven was in the vehicle, so getting caught didn’t concern this scum. In fact, Ryan believed that is exactly what he wanted. He wanted there to be no doubts about who had taken Nicholas. All the clues he’d planted were for one purpose and one purpose only. To terrorize Makayla.

His finger twitched at his gun in its holster. But common sense held him back. He’d let the FBI follow the limo and wait for backup.

***

Makayla stared at the phone, the disconnection buzz ringing in her ears. Had Ryan hung up on her? Or had something gone wrong? She cringed at the thought that her phone call might not have been such a great idea. Her heart pounded in her ears. Where was her husband?

That settled it. She needed to find Michael, to try and head him off before he made the most dangerous mistake of his young life—confronting his biological father.

Lifting her keys from underneath a stack of unsorted mail, she prayed McCoy wouldn’t notice. The key to the storage unit stabbed into the palm of her hand as she pictured the motorcycle Ryan had bought several months back. She’d never been so thankful for learning to ride the beast. Even though she fought Ryan tooth and nail, he’d insisted she at least try, and try she did. But even after several attempts, the heavy machine still had its way with her when she stopped. Balance had never been one of her strong points anyway.

“Bills or friendly mail?” McCoy asked. He’d come out of nowhere and shocked the feeling right out of her toes.

“Oh. Mostly bills.” She smiled politely and eased herself past him toward the bedroom. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to rest for a while. I’ll take care of these later.” She hated deceiving him and hoped Ryan wouldn’t be too mad at his friend when he found out she’d left on his watch.

“Sure.” He nodded sympathetically. “I’ll hold down the fort. You’re safe here.”

Safe here. Those two words bolted through her mind like a frightened street mouse. But what about out there? Alone. With a maniac wanting nothing more than to end her pathetic life.

Once again, she had no choice. She needed to find Michael and she had a pretty good idea of just where he’d headed.

The McDuffs.

The next phone call Ryan received brought him up and out of his hiding place like his pants were on fire. On foot now, he managed to get within twenty feet of the building undetected.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Raking his hands through his hair, he crept away from the building and the coward holding up inside, who he presumed to be Steven.

At that moment all concern turned to Makayla. She’d gone against his wishes again. This didn’t look good. The FBI still had their doubts about her involvement.
Damn it, Makalya
. Let them do their job.

What now? Everything inside him wanted to charge the building. Get his son out. Put an end to this madness. Steven was there. But no indications Nicholas was anywhere on the premises had been verified. All a dumbass action like that would do was cause more trouble and probably get him killed.

That settled it. He couldn’t just sit and do nothing. As long as the lunatic remained inside the warehouse, he had time to find Makayla.

A car pulled around the corner, slowly making its way toward him. Backup arrived right on time. He motioned for them to take over, knowing strict instructions were given not to let anyone enter or leave the building without notifying Agent Harrington first. Everyone was to stick to the plan. No matter what.

Ryan eased open the door to his F150 pickup and had it started before he pulled both legs under the steering wheel. Adrenaline coursed through him like rattlesnake venom, his control suspended in thin air.

He’d stick to the plan, all right. After he found his family, he’d kill Steven without a second thought.

Shuddering at his barbaric thoughts, he reached for his phone and dialed Makayla’s cell phone. This had gone on long enough. He wanted to assure her of his love in person, but time was running out. She needed to know his feelings for her hadn’t changed. That he still wanted to spend his forever with her.

Dammit.
No answer. She either didn’t have it with her or refused to suffer through anymore of his insensitive conversations.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a motorcycle flying down a wrong way street. The strangest part about the image wasn’t the improper direction, but the long dark hair flapping out the back and sides of the helmet.