Blind Run (7 page)

CHAPTER SIX

SYDNEY OPENED HER EYES
and lay very still, unsure what had awakened her. Then she heard it again, the same insistent buzzing that had pulled her from her dreams. Someone was at her front door. She sat up and checked the time. Five
A.M.

The buzzer sounded once more, three quick stabs of an impatient finger.

Warily, she climbed out of bed, slipped on her robe, and started toward the front of her apartment. Who could be at her door this time of the morning? She considered dialing nine-one-one but quickly dismissed the idea. With the night watchman at the desk downstairs, it had to be one of her neighbors or Charles. Though it wasn’t like him to show up unannounced in the middle of the night. Maybe there was a problem in the building, or someone with a medical emergency. She usually kept to herself, but several people on her floor knew she was a doctor.

As a precaution, she got her cell phone from her purse and slipped it into the pocket of her robe. At the door, she took a deep breath before saying, “Who is it?”

“Sydney, let me in.”

Her stomach tightened. The voice was low, masculine, and hauntingly familiar, a voice she hadn’t heard in three years. She must be imagining things.

“Who is it?” she repeated, pressing one hand to the wood frame while the other gripped the fabric at her waist.

A brief hesitation. “It’s me. Ethan.”

No. She wanted to say it aloud but simply shook her head and backed away. It couldn’t be.

“Sydney.” His voice was insistent, drawing her back to the door, though she wasn’t about to open it. She wasn’t even sure it was Ethan—or so she told herself. It had been three years, and voices could be faked, imitated. Couldn’t they?

Reluctantly, she looked through the peephole. On the other side, she saw the shape of her ex-husband, strangely distorted through the tiny glass. She pulled back abruptly, her heart pounding in her chest. “What do you want?”

“Open up. We need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” She managed to sound more in control than she felt. He had a lot of nerve showing up here after what he’d done. Did he think she would welcome him with open arms?

“I’m not leaving.” He pressed the buzzer again. “Now let me in before we wake the entire building.”

“Go away.” She pressed her hands against the door, hating him for doing this, for showing up on her doorstep after three years of silence.

“Sydney.” He pounded on the door.

Damn him!

“Stop,” she said, knowing he would keep on until he’d awakened everyone on her floor. “Give me a minute.”

She hesitated, slipping a hand into her pocket and closing it around her cell phone. One brief call and she wouldn’t have to deal with this, with him. It would serve him right to spend the night in jail after what he’d put her through. In the morning she’d visit him and find out what he wanted. Not that she cared. Hell, maybe she wouldn’t go see him at all. He could rot in prison for all she cared. She pulled out the phone, pressed three numbers, and listened for the ringing. Then she quickly hit the disconnect button as a sob caught in her throat.

She couldn’t do it.

Damn him, she thought again as she fought back her tears. She wouldn’t cry over him, not now. Not ever again. But she couldn’t have him arrested, either, and she hated herself for that weakness.

She shut off the alarm, released the dead bolt, and barely had time to back out of the way before he pushed inside and turned to relock the door behind him. He wasn’t alone. Two children, a girl and a boy, had hurried into the room ahead of him. But they barely registered in the wake of the man whose presence filled her foyer.

He looked a little wild, with his hair too long and at least two days’ worth of stubble on his chin. He wore dusty jeans, scuffed boots, and a faded denim shirt. Although he’d always leaned toward casual clothing, he’d been meticulously neat. Now, like his clothes, he appeared rumpled and well worn. His eyes, however, hadn’t changed. They were the same intense blue that he’d passed on to their son.

Nicky’s memory fueled her anger. “What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?” Her questions sounded absurd considering their history, but she didn’t know what else to say to him. “Who are these children?”

Without answering, he crossed to the sliding glass doors to her balcony and checked the locks. “Is there a back entrance?”

“Yes, but . . .” She followed him as he headed toward the kitchen and the back stairway. “Ethan, stop this and tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s no time.” His voice was brusque and commanding. “Get dressed. We have to get out of here.”

“Get out of here?” They’d returned to the living room, where the children had collapsed on her couch. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re in danger, Sydney.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She crossed her arms, tossing a quick glance at the children before turning back to him. “I think you need to leave.”

“We don’t have time to argue, just get some clothes on.”

It infuriated her,
he
infuriated her, storming in here like some kind of madman and issuing commands. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Ethan,”—she turned her back on him—“but I’m calling the police.”

He grabbed her arm, the contact disturbing her in a way she hadn’t expected. “This isn’t a game, Sydney, and I’m not playing. Now, you have two choices. You can come with me, or you can wait here to die.”

A sliver of fear slipped down her spine, but as she met his gaze, icy anger rose up to banish it and her troublesome reaction to his touch. He had no right to be here, to put his hands on her. He’d relinquished that privilege three years ago, the day he’d walked out on her.

“Let go of me.” Very purposely, she looked at his hand on her arm. And saw the gun.

Sydney froze.

As if shocked, Ethan released her and backed up. “I’m sorry.” He shoved the weapon behind him, into the waistband of his jeans. “It’s been a long night.” His hands visibly shook as he ran them through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “Look, Syd, I’m sorry if I frightened you, but this is real. You’re in danger.”

She tried a safe question, a rational question. “Who are these children?”

“I’m Danny,” the boy said. “And this is my sister Callie.”

Sydney forced a smile. “I’m Sydney.”

“We know,” the girl said with one of those beautiful smiles only the very young can produce. “Ethan was in a hurry to get here. He was worried about you.”

Sydney didn’t know how to respond to that. Why would Ethan be worried about her? It was a question she didn’t even want to think about, so she concentrated on the children. The girl was lovely, angelic even, with soft, sweet features. The boy was her counterpart, as dark as she was light, but just as beautiful in his own way. Who were they? And what were they doing with Ethan?

“Syd?” She turned back to Ethan. “We don’t have time for this.” He was calmer now, almost deliberately so. “I’ll explain everything later, but for now you have to trust me. There’s a man, a very dangerous man, on his way here. So please, get some clothes on, and let’s get out of here.”

Sydney realized she’d been wrong, not even his eyes were the same. There was something frightening about them, about him, an edge of danger she’d never seen before.

Deciding it was best, safest, to humor him, she nodded. “Okay, if you think that’s best.”

Doubt flickered in his eyes, and she worried that she’d acquiesced too easily. Of all people, Ethan knew she wouldn’t willingly go along with this insanity.

“Give me a couple of minutes to get dressed,” she said quickly, “and throw some things in a bag.”

Ethan nodded, although he didn’t seem convinced. “Hurry.”

Sydney walked to her bedroom, but when she went to close the door, Ethan grabbed it. “Leave it open.”

She glared at him, forcing down a sharp retort. Then, turning away, she moved about her bedroom gathering clothing. At the entrance to her bathroom, she looked back at him. “Do I have to leave this open as well? Or would you rather come in and make sure I don’t climb out the window or something?”

“Just make it quick, Sydney.” He retreated to the living room, his voice a low muffle as he spoke to the children.

Sydney shut the bathroom door and closed her eyes, conscious of her rapidly beating pulse and angry at herself as much as at him. He wasn’t the man she’d known, he was different, sick maybe, and definitely dangerous. Her response to him was insane. He was unstable, and the sooner she could get away from him, the better.

After turning on the faucet full force, she took out her cell phone. It took less than a minute to place her call, and her only regret was that she hadn’t done it before letting Ethan into her apartment. Once she hung up, she let the minutes stretch out as she cleaned up and dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a knit top. She had to give the police time to arrive. Back in the bedroom, she slipped the cell phone into her purse, then took down her overnight bag and started filling it with toiletries.

Ethan appeared in the doorway. “Come on, Sydney, you’ve had enough time.”

“Just give me a few more—”

Two quick strides and he was beside her, one hand taking her arm, while the other grabbed her jacket, purse, and half-filled bag. “We have to go. Now.”

He’d hustled her into the living room before she could stop him. “Take your hands off me.” She pulled free, her resolve to remain calm shattered. “I told you I’d come, you don’t have to manhandle me.”

“You’re stalling.” He shoved her jacket into her hands.

She slipped it on, the supple leather reminding her that he’d given it to her for their third wedding anniversary. Paper, cotton, leather, fruit, wood, and candy: the traditional gifts for the first six years of a marriage, and he hadn’t missed one. A true romantic, or so she’d thought until he’d walked out on her.

“I was just getting my things together.” She had a hard time keeping the anger out of her voice.

He eyed her the way he did when trying to see past her words, then motioned to the children. “Come on, we’re getting out of here, with or without Dr. Decker.”

A knock on the door stopped them.

He looked at her, a spark of anger in his eyes. “Who’d you call?”

She backed away from him, her hands raised. “It’s okay, Ethan, they’re here to help. You’re not well.”

“Shit.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Danny, take your sister down the back stairs and wait there for as long as you can. If things start going bad, get out. Head for the
Dallas Morning News
and tell them your story. Understand?”

Danny nodded, took Callie’s hand, and headed for the kitchen.

“No, wait.” Sydney blocked their way. “You can’t just go off by yourselves.”

“Dr. Decker.” The booming voice came from outside her apartment. “Police. Open up.”

The children slipped past her.

“Wait,” she said, but they didn’t even slow down.

“Dr. Decker, are you in there?”

Unable to stop the children, she started for the front door, but Ethan caught her hand. “They can’t protect you, Sydney.”

She looked into his eyes, and it was as if time itself stopped breathing. Once she would have followed this man to hell and back without question. Now she wasn’t sure. Yet an eerie sensation crept up her spine, a certainty that he spoke the truth. “Can you, Ethan? Can you protect me?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “Maybe.”

She frowned, tugged her hand free, and backed away.

The door burst open, and two uniformed officers scrambled into her apartment, guns extended, finding and aiming at Ethan. “Hands where we can see them.”

He obeyed, slowly. “You’re making a mistake, officers.”

“Are you okay, Dr. Decker?” One of the men stepped to her side.

Sydney kept her eyes on Ethan, who seemed remarkably calm considering the circumstances. And dangerous. “Yes, I—”

“Tell them you made a mistake, Sydney,” Ethan warned. “Explain that I’m your husband and have been out of town. I surprised you this morning and that’s why you called.”

The officers appeared uneasy. “What’s going on here, Dr. Decker?”

Sydney hesitated, torn. Part of her wanted to trust him, to put her faith in the man who’d been her husband, the man she’d promised to love, honor, and cherish. Another part, the rational part, balked. Three years ago he’d abandoned that oath, and now he’d all but broken into her apartment, brandishing a gun and talking about someone coming to kill her. How could she trust him?

“I’m fine,” she said to the uniformed man at her side. “But this man isn’t my husband. Not anymore.”

Ethan went very still, the shift subtle but frightening. With her denial of their relationship, he’d grown calmer and more alert, ready. Had the others sensed it? She glanced at the police officers, realizing they hadn’t noticed, and felt a chill ripple through her. Ethan had no intention of allowing these officers to arrest him.

Then she remembered the gun. “Watch out, he has—”

Behind her a muffled creak, and Ethan spun toward the sound, a weapon already in his hand. “Get down!”

His words had barely reached her when she heard a soft thud, and a bright crimson rose blossomed on the chest of the officer at her side. Sydney jerked backward, a scream caught in her throat. The young man tumbled to the floor, eyes wide.

Gunshots exploded and glass shattered as Ethan shoved her to the floor, the impact forcing the scream from her throat. The second officer went down, his gun hand jerking upward without pulling the trigger, a grunt of surprise escaping his open lips.

Reflexively, she moved toward him, but Ethan had her pinned, covering her as he fired toward the balcony. One shot. Two. And the panel erupted outward, showering glass fragments on a dark figure as it disappeared over the railing.

Then Ethan was off her, moving to first one officer then the other, checking for life. Sydney scrambled to help, going to the young man who seconds earlier had stood by her side. Before she could do more than press trembling fingers to the pulse point in his neck, Ethan grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet.