Her Mistletoe Protector. Laura Scott
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Swallowing hard, she drew her cell phone out of the front pocket of her sweatshirt and pushed the preprogrammed number for Nick Butler. He’d told her to call day or night and, thankfully, seven-thirty in the evening wasn’t too late. She held her breath until he answered.
“Butler.”
“It’s Rachel. We’re being followed by a black truck license plate number TYG-555. We’re on Handover Road, just past Highway 12.”
“Mom? What’s going on?” Joey swiveled in his seat, finally realizing that something was wrong.
“Hang tight, I’m not far away. I’ll be right there,” Nick said in a calm, reassuring tone.
“Hurry,” she urged, before sliding the phone back into her pocket and returning both hands to the wheel. She increased her speed more, wondering why Nick would be so close, when suddenly, the truck rammed into her from behind, causing the steering wheel to jerk in her hands as the car swerved dangerously. She and Joey were wearing their seat belts, but she wasn’t sure the restraint would be enough to prevent them from being harmed. “Hang on, Joey!” she shouted as she fought to stay in control.
“Mom!” Joey screamed as the truck rammed into them again, and this time, she couldn’t prevent the car from slamming into the guardrail with a sickening lurch. She tried to ride against the rail, but the car spun out of control, doing a complete three-sixty before hitting the side rail again, thankfully on the driver’s side.
The impact caused the airbags to explode in their faces. Pain radiated through her face and chest. “Joey!” she shrieked, frantic to know her son was all right.
The car came to an abrupt halt, but the driver’s side door was bent inward to the point of pinning her left foot. She batted away the air bags as she frantically reached over for her son. “Joey? Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he said, between hiccuping sobs. “I think so.”
Coughing as air bag dust filled her lungs, she tried again to get her foot out from the twisted hunk of metal. When that didn’t work, she reached over to help Joey get out of his seat belt. “I need you to get out of the car, Joey. Run away and get help. Find Detective Butler. Do you understand me? You need to get away from here and find Detective Nick Butler.”
“Not without you,” he cried.
“I’ll be right behind you,” she said, even though she wasn’t sure she’d be able to wrench herself free. “Now go. Hurry!”
Somehow, Joey managed to crawl out of the passenger-side window, which was completely busted open. She pulled, gritting her teeth against the pain as she tried to yank out her pinned foot.
Through the open window she saw Joey stagger a bit before he managed to pick up his pace enough to run. She heard the distant wailing of a police siren and hoped that was Nick, as she shifted in her seat again, determined to find a way to get free.
But then she saw a large man dressed completely in dark clothing, recognizing him as the driver of the big black truck that had caused her to crash. Through the glow of her headlights, she saw him take off running after her son. “No! Joey!” she screamed, ripping her foot out of her shoe, finally gaining freedom. “No!”
Too late. The tall stranger easily scooped up her son and dropped a black hood over Joey’s head before taking off with him thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Joey struggled against him, but the guy never hesitated, ignoring her son’s kicks and punches.
“No!” she wailed, scrambling to get out of the crushed car. She threw herself across to the passenger seat and wiggled her way through the broken window. “Stop! Joey!”
But the moment she fell from the window onto the paved road, the big black truck engine rumbled to life and pulled away, tires screeching, with her son trapped inside.
TWO
Nick slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator, racing to Rachel’s location, his heart pounding in his chest. Earlier that day, he hadn’t been entirely convinced her stalker was really someone from the Mafia. But the threats had been enough that he couldn’t bear to leave her totally on her own, so he’d followed Rachel to her son’s basketball game without telling her he was nearby.
Now he realized his instincts had been right on. The panic in her tone gripped him by the throat and he couldn’t help feeling that this was his fault for not doing more to keep her safe. He saw Rachel and Joey leaving the school after the game, but at that moment he’d taken a call from his boss, questioning why he’d taken on Rachel’s stalker case. He’d explained about the possible mob connection, which had eased his captain’s concern. But in the time it had taken him to placate his boss, Rachel and Joey had disappeared from sight.
His fault for not telling her he was there. And if something bad happened to Rachel and Joey, he’d never forgive himself. As he drove, he silently prayed for their well-being.
Please, Lord, keep Rachel and Joey safe in Your care. Amen.
The closer he got to the location she’d given him, the more his gut tightened with fear and worry. And when he saw her mangled car wedged against the guardrail, his stomach dropped. He was surprised to see there weren’t any police cars or ambulances at the scene. As he pulled over, Rachel was there, limping and crying, making her way down the road. He bolted from his car and ran toward her. “Rachel, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“He took Joey!” She grabbed his arm in a tight grip. “You have to do something! Right now!”
“Which way did they go?”
“N-north.”
“All right, let’s go.” He took her arm since she was shaking so badly he was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stay upright. She managed to hang on long enough to climb into his car. He slid quickly into the driver’s seat.
As he drove he reached for the radio. “I have to call my boss, tell him to send a chopper. The truck will be easier to find from the air at night.”
“Wait! I have a text message.”
He froze, watching as she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her pink hoodie sweatshirt.
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
“What is it?”
“Don’t call the police or I’ll kill him.” She lifted her tortured gaze to his. “I knew it! I knew the mob was after me. And now they’ve kidnapped Joey!”
Every instinct he possessed told him to radio for backup, but Rachel had grabbed his arm again, squeezing so tight he winced as her nails dug painfully into his skin. “We have to find him. We have to get to Joey!” she sobbed.
“Rachel, I know you’re scared, but let’s calm down and think this through. We need to get the helicopters to go after that black truck.”
“If that guy sees the police he’ll kill Joey. You don’t know how ruthless the Mafia can be. Please don’t do anything that will hurt my son. Please!” Her green eyes implored him to listen.
He pressed harder on the accelerator, going well above the speed limit. He wished a cop would try to pull him over, because then they’d have their badly needed backup.
“This is all my fault. They have Joey and it’s all my fault,” Rachel moaned.
He glanced over at her, wishing there was something he could say to make her feel better. But he knew only too well what it was like to lose a child.
“There!” Rachel’s excited shout drew him out of his depressing thoughts. “That’s the black truck that hit me.”
He couldn’t believe they’d found the black truck here, on the side of the road. But as they came closer, it was clear that the vehicle had been abandoned. Was it possibly a different truck? No, the damage to the front bumper convinced