Countdown

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Rachel extracted herself to stand. “Where?”

Crash!

James grimaced and swung his backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s focus on getting out of here first.” He pointed to the white door behind the staircase. “This office used to be part of the garage before we remodeled. Boys, time to go.” He led the way in case one of the boys slammed the door open, drawing attention to their location. He cracked the door open and trained his eyes on the set of steps connected to the kitchen.

All clear.

Rachel followed behind.

He waved them closer but kept his eye on the other door into the house. “Remember, no noise, boys. Quiet game.”

Rachel placed Caleb in his booster seat while Ethan jumped into his. James shoved the backpacks the boys had discarded underneath their feet.

“We can buckle them in later,” she whispered.

James grabbed the seat belt to Ethan’s left. That was not a risk he was willing to take, no matter how short the ride. “No. We buckle them in now.”

Her wide eyes met his for half a second before she nodded and buckled Caleb.

“Lift the handle as you close it,” Rachel whispered, but it came out more like a hiss. Closing the doors still made some noise. James hoped the chaos the men were creating inside would mask their movements.

A moment later they were all inside the Charger. Rachel held her purse against her chest like someone clinging to a flotation device pictured on an airplane safety pamphlet, and her backpack sat between her feet. “You, too,” he said softly, his eyes drifting to the unbuckled seat belt.

She raised her eyebrows and looked at him. Confusion lined her forehead. James shook his own seat belt as he clicked it into place with his left hand.

“Oh.” She followed his example as he turned the key in the ignition with his right hand. The door to the house burst open.

“Stop,” a man in a black suit hollered. He whipped a gun out from the holster underneath his suit jacket and aimed the weapon at the windshield.

FIVE (#ulink_10553401-d1d1-553a-9bd2-e4e127f2f122)

Rachel’s heart went into overdrive at the sight of the weapon. Her body stiffened and her fingernails dug deep into the sides of the leather seat. The man kept the gun level at the driver’s side of the windshield.

“Shift to Reverse.” James spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “While he’s focused on me.”

He had to be joking. Rachel stared at the gun. One move of the trigger finger and James would be shot. The man took one step down the garage steps, but his weapon remained on target.

The man narrowed his eyes and yelled, “Hands up.”

James slowly began to lift his hands. “Rachel.” His voice sounded like a plea.

“He’s a bad man, Daddy!” one of the boys cried.

The little voice was her undoing. So much could go wrong, but the alternative meant being in the gunman’s control. She’d had more than her share of interactions with arrogant, adrenaline-filled crooks with guns. It never ended well.

Rachel slipped her left hand to the gearshift and shoved it down into Reverse.

The car shot backward. Her head bounced off the headrest as the car smashed against the garage door. The screech of aluminum filled the air as the garage door buckled. James must have floored it.

His hands snatched the steering wheel as the car shot into the street. He swung the car around, and her hands hit the dashboard as he shifted into Drive.

Shards of the left mirror exploded and bounced off the driver’s-side window. It mimicked the sound of hail during a thunderstorm. An involuntary scream tore out of her mouth as the wheels squealed and the car sped down the street.

The boys’ screeches overpowered hers. “Were you hit?” She turned to find the boys petrified in their booster seats. Little teardrops rolled down their cheeks, but they fell silent. No sign of blood or injury.

James said nothing, but his face paled.

Rachel peeked in the right-side mirror. Were they still shooting? Two men in suits were running to the black sedan in the cul-de-sac.

She flung her gaze back to James. “Call the police. Have you called the police?”

“I wish we could, but we can’t.” James zigzagged through the roads out of the subdivision. “Did you hear them? They have fake badges. They shot at us.”

She unzipped her purse, hunting for her phone in the unorganized mess. “All the more reason to call.” If he wasn’t going to do it, she would.

“No. Rachel, we’re dealing with people who are trying to launch a weapon in the sky.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “Imagine what kind of resources they have at their disposal. I won’t trust anyone with the safety of my sons until I hear from Derrick.” He lowered his voice so softly she almost didn’t hear him continue. “I’d die before I let one of those goons close enough to touch them.”

Her fingertips found her phone at the bottom of the bag, but she hesitated to dial. She’d seen firsthand how much he loved his sons and his words only confirmed it. Her finger hovered over the screen. Her heart beat so loudly in her ears she struggled to think straight. “Is Derrick the contact you mentioned? The one from the NSA?”

“Hold on.” He took a turn at a diagonal. “Yes. I need to speak with him, and I need to focus now. I’m driving straight to the police station to drop you off, but I’m begging you... Do not bring us into this. Please.”

Rachel dropped the phone in her lap. She grabbed the handle on the ceiling and pressed her back into the seat. She needed her bearings. He took another curve. Ah, she knew where they were now. She pointed to her right. “Turn here.”

“That’ll take me away from the main road.”

She looked in the side mirror. So far she didn’t see the black sedan in view. That didn’t mean much, though. They could be only half a block away. “You want me to wait to call the police? Fine. But we need to do the unexpected. Trust me.”

James glanced at her before he turned the wheel at the last second. Rachel’s head slammed into his strong shoulder from the momentum.

“Sorry.”

She strained to sit upright. “Drive through the community area.”

He released an exasperated groan. “There’s no road.”

Her hands itched to take the wheel herself, to be back in control. “I know. Drive through it. I’ve sat on that bench and watched teens do it. I called the police, but the point is it can be done.” She shoved a hand past his face, pointing. “Dart through there and you can get to a different exit out of the subdivision. They won’t see where we went. They won’t be able to follow us.” She spoke so rapidly she wasn’t sure if James caught it all.

James shook his head. “Who’s ready for a roller coaster?” he asked drily.

The car dove down the sudden decline and past the basketball court to the left. The whimpers in the back seat morphed into a strange mixture of crying and giggling, as if they didn’t know which emotion was called for at the moment.

He didn’t decrease the acceleration as they went back up the hill and out onto a new street.

“Take a right,” she said. She turned around to get a better view. No sedan in sight. Rachel turned back around. Her stomach roiled as she fought back a sudden rush of motion sickness. “I don’t think they saw us.”

“Because they don’t believe I’m insane.”

“Oh, but backing up through a garage door at gunpoint is perfectly reasonable?” Snarky comebacks came naturally, but she’d grown good at holding her tongue...until now. “Sorry. In times like these, instinct is your ally.” If only she didn’t know it to be true.

He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“Another time.” She exhaled, not willing to expound. They reached the main road, and he took a right, barely squeezing between two cars. The final signs of daylight disappeared as streetlights began to glow. Only the remaining light pink hue hung on the western horizon. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“Whichever way is fastest to blend into traffic. After that, I’ll take you wherever you want.”

“Wherever I want?” Rachel couldn’t believe he said it with all the nonchalance of a cab driver. “You just told me that those men—possibly part of a terrorist plot—are out to get me, and you’re glad to take me wherever I want?”

He darted a glance to the back seat. Rachel cringed. She didn’t want to scare the boys but hopefully they didn’t know what the word “terrorist” meant.

“I thought that’s what you wanted. The police station—”

“I’m sorry. I took it the wrong way. I’m just stressed out. If you think Derrick is the key to safety, I’ll wait until you call him.”

James shoulders sagged. “I can’t apologize enough for getting you involved in this.” He turned onto a main drag and headed for the freeway. He merged into the fastest lane and reached into his pocket to pull out his phone.