Christmas Captive. Liz Johnson
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looked for a strategic place to make a stand. She’d have turned and fought. She’d have disarmed first and asked questions later.
But right now there was no place to stash Elaina where she would be safe. And the girl’s protection was all that mattered for the moment. Making a stand would put the girl at risk, so it wasn’t an option.
As they rounded the corner, Amy caught sight of the man chasing them. She couldn’t make out his features at this speed, but his wide shoulders stretched out the same black suit she’d only glimpsed before. And he charged after them, his big feet eating up the passageway as if he were an angry bull. There was something in his hand, something big and deadly stretched out in their direction.
He did have a gun.
Speed was still crucial, but she also concentrated on remembering to dodge and weave. She swooped to the left then returned to hugging the wall.
Anything to keep him off center and ensure that if he shot, his bullet would miss.
Dodge and weave.
Her mantra matched the speed of her footsteps as she flew down the hall.
They just had to keep running faster than the man behind them until they lost him. Or found someone who could help.
But the corridor seemed to be deserted, every cabin door shut tight.
Suddenly Elaina’s whole body jerked, her grip around Amy’s shoulders nearly breaking as she cried loudly. Amy swallowed the scream that rose in her throat as the shift in balance nearly tripped her, forcing her to come to a momentary stop. Tears filled Elaina’s eyes, and between trembling gasps she said, “My hand slipped. Sorry.”
Amy dismissed the apology with a wave, hoisting the girl higher on her hip and holding on tighter. But in the moments it took to get moving again, Amy glanced back at their pursuer. He’d stopped, planting his feet shoulder-width apart and raising his gun at arm’s length.
Her heart leaped to her throat, and she stumbled as she flew toward the end of the hall and a glowing red exit sign, always keeping herself between Elaina and the gun.
Please. Please. If they could just make it through that door, they might find help.
Amy crashed against the metal handle, shoving it open and tumbling against Elaina as the telltale whistle of a bullet fired through a silencer zipped toward her back.
“Go. Go. Go.” She cheered herself on, forcing herself to watch her feet and cling to the banister with her free hand.
Her shoes clanged loudly down the metal stairs. But there was no time to worry about silencing them.
That man was willing to take a shot when one of the cabin doors might have opened up at any moment. He either knew something she didn’t that made him believe he wouldn’t get caught, or he had nothing to lose.
Or both.
Probably both.
Her head spun as they sailed around a turn and another set of clanging footsteps joined hers.
He was gaining on them. He’d reach them long before she could get Elaina to safety.
Dear God, help us. It was the only prayer she could manage as her heart kept up a steady tattoo. Go. Go. Go.
And then another whistle, so high-pitched that she felt rather than heard it, sailed past. The shot splintered the corner of the door frame as they barreled through it. Elaina screamed.
Good. She could scream all she wanted now. Anything to gain some attention.
But the deck was empty, and the sound was lost on the wind as they rushed into the open.
Where was everyone? Had the entire ship migrated to the lido deck for more fun with Neesha and Rodney?
She whipped around to see how close their pursuer was. The clanging of his feet against the metal steps gave him away. He wasn’t visible yet, but he was closing in. And she couldn’t risk leading him to the party. There were too many innocent lives there. People she loved. But she and Elaina were sitting ducks out here.
Where to go? Where would they be safe?
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the closed door of what looked like a small storage closet. But as she turned toward it, she ran directly into an unmoving chest.
Large hands clamped on both of her shoulders, surrounding Elaina and stopping her midstep. “Amy? Are you all right? I thought I heard someone screaming.”
She had to peer all the way up into his face to get a good look at Jordan, but even then her eyes wouldn’t quite focus on him. Her shoulders twitched as she tried to check behind her.
“Amy.” His tone was clipped, his eyes darting from her to Elaina and back. “What’s wrong?”
Everything in her melted. She hadn’t even known she’d wanted his help, but now that he was here, she recognized him as exactly what they needed. “Someone’s chasing us. Shot at us.” Her words came out on a pant, but she flung her finger out behind her and met his gaze for a brief second.
If he needed to think through his actions, it took him only a fragment of a second. He grabbed them both, shifting them out of the line of view of the stairwell. “Stay right here. Don’t move.”
And then he ran toward the doorway. But instead of going into the stairwell, he slipped to the side, his back against the white outer wall, his ear pressed in.
She took a step to follow him, but stopped as Elaina let out a small sob. “It’s okay, honey,” she said, cuddling her niece close. Everything inside her cried out to help Jordan take care of this guy, but she couldn’t possibly carry Elaina into that kind of situation, and leaving her behind was equally impossible, so she held her position with watchful eyes.
Their pursuer had reached the bottom of the stairs, and the pace of his clanging steps had slowed.
But it didn’t calm the tantrum of her heart. Or loosen the way Elaina’s skinny arms squeezed around her neck. Pressing Elaina’s face against her shoulder, Amy tried to hold her tight enough to keep both of them from falling apart.
But she couldn’t look away from Jordan, whose shoulders rose and fell in a steady rhythm. His face was a mask of calm, and he closed his eyes for a long second.
She wanted to scream at him, to tell him to pay attention. He was going to miss it all, and she and Elaina would be easy pickings for their pursuer. But she bit her lips until they stung and she tasted the coppery tang of blood.
And suddenly the entire world seemed to explode. Everything happened at once. A wicked Glock 23—silencer attached—came through the entrance, their pursuer holding it straight out and ready to fire. But before the rest of him could make it through the doorway, Jordan squeezed his hands together, raised them over his head and brought both of his arms down on top of the other man’s. There was a sickening crack, and the gun flew across the deck as the man groaned and swore. But before he could do anything more, Jordan landed an elbow to his sternum.
The man in black crumpled to the floor.
Years of training told Amy to secure the weapon, but when she tried to put Elaina down so she could grab the gun, Elaina whimpered and refused to let go. So she took her with, racing for the gun, scooping it up and pointing it at the still man on the ground.
“Are you all right?” Jordan asked, his hands swiftly moving up and down the beefy arms and legs of their pursuer, searching for additional weapons. Suddenly he stopped and stared hard at her. The gentleness he’d displayed with his cousin earlier in the evening was gone. Replaced by something that could only be called his mission face. It was all hard angles and firm planes. The teasing smile that he so often used had disappeared. Even the little cleft in his chin seemed especially dark.
And she was so busy studying his face that she nearly missed his repeated question. “Amy, are you all right? Were you hurt?”
“What? No.