The Stolen Girl (16 page)

One of the SWAT officers noticed that I was holding a gun, and he stepped forward and, still holding up his rifle with one hand, used his other hand to reach out and snatch the gun from me. This caught me a little by surprise, as I was half-expecting to be knocked to the ground and put into handcuffs. But then, a blonde-haired woman, wearing a pair of slacks, a button-up blouse, and an FBI windbreaker, stepped into the front living room of the house, and her next words helped to clarify what was going on.

“Elizabeth Sterling?” she asked, walking over to me as she holstered her own pistol back at her hip.

Stunned and not sure what to do, I nodded in affirmation.

“Excellent,” the woman said in a satisfied tone. “My name is Carol, and I’m very glad to see that you are safe and sound. We received some photos of you earlier this morning; they were sent from an anonymous address, but we were able to trace them back to here through their data network.” She reached out and gently patted me on the arm. “Relax, dear,” she said in a softer tone. “You’re safe now.”

I tried to take a deep breath, to relax, but the air simply came out in a series of short gasps. I was definitely not relaxed. While I tried to ride out the surge of adrenaline coursing through me, I studied this woman standing next to me. She was petite, not much taller than I stood, but her lithe and limber frame seemed to exert a natural sense of confidence. Her blonde hair was trimmed short, above her shoulders, and her icy blue eyes were in constant motion as they surveyed the scene before her in the room. Those eyes thawed slightly as they checked on me, but they were immediately frozen again when they roamed over the bikers.

After giving me a short but warm grin, the woman turned to the armed officers in the room, still standing with their weapons at the ready. “Cuff them and take them away,” she ordered.

As the officers began forcing the bikers to turn around and place their hands behind their backs, a group of the armed men dashing upstairs to search for any other gang members who might be hiding, I took a deep breath, the first breath I could remember taking in minutes. But then, as I looked up, that breath froze in my throat. “No, wait!” I shouted, dashing across the room.

Both Carol and the other police officers looked up as I threw myself in front of Roads, shielding him from the officer who had been attempting to arrest the biker. “Excuse me?” Carol said, stepping closer.

“This man shouldn’t be arrested!” I insisted fervently, pressing myself up against Roads. “He’s the only one who’s been on my side! He’s fought against this from the beginning!”

For a brief instant, the female FBI agent looked annoyed, rather than jubilant. “Well, we will take that into account after they have been booked,” she said. “But for now, he’s going to be under arrest - he was involved in this kidnapping, and he’s not leaving this place unless it’s with us.”

I shook my head. “No,” I announced. “I won’t let you!”

Carol definitely looked exasperated now. But as she opened her mouth to respond, a new voice cut her off. A voice that I instantly recognized. “Elizabeth?” a man called out from outside the house.

My heart skipped a beat. “Dad?” I responded, my voice filled with hope. Could it really be?

A moment later, my father walked in through the front door of the house, and I bolted across to throw myself at him. My dad staggered for a moment as I collided heavily with him, the energy of my charge managing to stagger his big frame, but he merely chuckled as my arms squeezed as tightly as I could manage around his waist. His own arms came up, gently rubbing and patting my back. “Hello, my love,” he whispered down to me in tones filled with emotion. “I’m so glad to see that you’re safe.”

My face was pressed into his stomach, my tears probably staining his suit and clothes, but I didn’t care. “Dad, you have to do something,” I finally said, tilting my head back. I turned and pointed towards Roads, still standing with his hands raised in surrender. “You have to stop them from arresting that man!”

My father’s gaze followed my pointing finger, but for an instant, I saw anger flash across his face. “Elizabeth, honey, these men kidnapped you,” he said. “They committed a crime, and they have to be punished for that!”

“No!” I shouted back at him. My finger stabbed out to point at Slammer, still on the ground, who was now growling as a couple of medical personnel examined his gunshot wound. “That man kidnapped me! It was all his idea! But this other man, he was the one who kept me safe and fought for my release!”

My father was still shaking his head, but I took a step back, away from him. “I’m not leaving him!” I shouted, my voice rising up higher. And when I could see that I still wasn’t getting through to my rescuers, I threw myself back across the room at Roads, flinging my arms around him.

The sudden movement made the police officers jerk slightly, their hands shifting back towards their weapons, but I didn't care. As I grabbed at Roads, I caught a glimpse of Carol's face. Strangely, she didn't look surprised. Instead, she had a considering expression on her face. It was gone in an instant, but I still saw it.

I clung to this man, tears once again flowing down my face. But after a moment, I felt a big, comforting hand on my shoulder. I looked up, still sobbing, and saw Roads gazing down at me. His expression was filled with care and compassion.

“Don’t worry, Beth,” he said, his comforting rumble soothing my ears. “I’m sure that everything will be fine.”

Roads’ big hands gently but firmly removed mine from around him, detaching me. He moved slowly, making no sudden movements to provoke the armed police officers around him. And once he was free, he turned so that his back was to the nearest police officer, and calmly held his arms out behind him so that they could be cuffed.

I knew that I wasn’t going to win this. “Fine,” I agreed hesitantly. “But I want to hear from you the moment they let you free!” And then, suffused with sudden boldness, I darted forward towards him. Rising up on my tiptoes, I threw my arms around his neck, tugging his head down into reach. And as it came close, I planted a passionate, open-lipped kiss on his mouth.

When I finally released him and turned around, I could see surprise and shock on both my father’s and the FBI agent’s faces. “Okay,” I told them, feeling sudden weight descend down onto my shoulders. “I’m ready to go home now.”

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

T
he next few days became a blur of frenzied activity. I had to go to a doctor to be examined, had to read off of pre-printed cue cards about my experience in front of a gaggle of reporters with flashing cameras and microphones thrust out towards me, and had to talk to several different federal agents to give my story.

Over and over, I told them how Slammer had kidnapped me from my room, how Roads had argued against this course of action every step of the way and had done his best to make me comfortable and keep me from harm. I explained how Slammer had tried multiple times to rape me, and how Roads had always been my savior, stepping in to stop the deranged gang leader. I explained how I had taken the gun from Slammer and had shot him just before the police had come charging in. I talked and talked, signed statement after statement, until I could no longer think of anything else.

Even after the police had finally acceded, had finally left me alone, after the media had moved on to the next hot story of the day, I still felt downtrodden. I began sitting around at home, refusing to leave my room for long stretches of time except for meals. Even those would pass in silence, with me sitting across from my father and mechanically shoveling in my food until my plate was clean and I could return to my bedroom.

I could see the concern in my dad’s actions, but I didn’t know what to tell him. How could I explain what I had gone through? How could I justify to him the depth of emotion that I had developed for this total stranger in less than a week? I didn’t have an answer to that, so I kept myself secluded and away from the world.

Finally, a week later, I heard a tentative knock at my door.

“Beth? Can I come in?” Without waiting for an answer, my dad turned the knob and stepped into the threshold of my bedroom. He gazed down at me as I laid on the bed, my computer open in front of me. “Honey, can I talk to you for a moment?”

I pulled my eyes up to him for a moment, but made no move to get up. “Fine,” I said in a monotone.

My dad was used to speaking in public. I had seen his speeches dazzle crowds, and he was known to be a great orator. But now, as he stepped into the room and took a seat on the edge of my bed, he seemed hesitant and unsure. “Look, I can see that you’re really hurt over what happened,” he began, speaking slowly as if carefully considering each word.

I pulled myself up onto my elbows. “It’s not that!” I snapped. “But there was just one person who stayed with me for it all, who was always on my side - and now he’s been taken away by the police and I can’t even thank him!”

After this outburst, my dad gazed down at me for a long minute. “What would you want to say to him?” he finally asked.

I opened my mouth to respond, paused, and then violently shrugged. “I want to thank him,” I said finally, dropping my eyes. “I want to thank him for seeing me as a person, for always respecting me, for standing up for me and putting my concerns first, even when it directly contrasted with everyone else. I want to tell him that he did the right thing by stepping in to defend me, even at the cost of all of his gang’s plans.”

My father nodded along with this, and his gaze softened. “That’s very mature,” he complimented me when I finished.

Waves of my hair fell around my face as I shook my head. “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter,” I griped. “He was taken away by the police - when would I see him ever again?”

Putting his hands on his knees, my dad rose up from the bed. “You’d be surprised,” he said softly, walking back towards the door. “When someone gets a testimonial from a powerful political figure, it’s quite surprising how fast charges can be dropped.”

I looked up at him in confusion. “Huh?”

Instead of responding, my father merely gave me a little smile, and then stepped through the door of my bedroom and around the corner. And a moment later, someone else came around the corner into view.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, as Roads came into view. The big man was dressed in blue jeans and a simple, plain white tee shirt, but there was a big grin spread across his face. That grin only widened as I leapt up from bed and charged across the room, throwing myself into him and flinging my arms around his waist.

When I finally released the biker from my tight hug, I saw my dad with his head poked around the door frame, smiling back at me. “This whole ordeal has taught me one thing,” he observed. “This tragedy showed me how much you mean to me, Beth. And because of that, I want to make sure that you’re always going to be safe and protected. And if I want to be sure that you’re protected, I should pick a bodyguard who cares just as much about you as I do.”

It took me a minute to figure out what my father was saying. “Wait, so do you mean that…” I lapsed off, my eyes flicking back and forth between the biker and the senator.

My dad nodded. “I had a long talk with Mr. Rhodes before he was released,” he said, nodding towards the other man. Roads returned that nod with respect. “And I truly believe that he cares about you and will keep you safe.”

For a moment longer, my dad lingered, his eyes solemn despite his wistful smile. But then, shaking himself off, he patted the door frame. “Well, I always have more reading to attend to,” he said, starting back down the stairs. “I’ll let the two of you catch up, let Beth do her thanking.”

Before he could get away, however, I called out after him. “Dad, wait!” Releasing my arms from around Roads’ waist, I ran out of my bedroom to catch up with my father.

He turned and looked down at me, his expression inquisitive. “Yes?”

I wasn’t at all sure about what I was saying, but something about our recent visits to the FBI had given me an inkling of what might be going on. “Dad, it’s been a long time since Mom passed away,” I told him. “If you want to see someone else, that’s okay with me. I think that’s the right thing to do.”

It was a little gratifying to see my father’s mouth drop briefly open. Very few people ever got to see Senator Leonard Sterling caught off balance. “How… what… when did you figure it out?” he sputtered, his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised in shock.

My grin spread across my face. “I didn’t, until you just confirmed it,” I confessed. “But when we had to keep going in and giving statements, I saw you looking after that FBI agent who was working with us, and you kept on falling behind to chat with her. I took a guess - and apparently I was right!”

For a few seconds, my father’s mouth merely opened and closed. Despite his impressive stature and well-respected nature, I couldn’t help but be reminded of an oversized goldfish. The thought alone made me giggle.

“Okay,” my dad finally admitted, after getting his surprise under control. My grin must be infectious, as it was spreading across his face as well. “Carol and I have grown a little close over the course of the investigation. I hope you’ll like her - if anything happens. Not to say that it will!”