Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
“ O kay, you hold that there…” Asher poked his tongue out as he wrapped the last strip of fabric around the bundle of springs he’d wound together. Pulling the material tight, he tied the final knot. “There.” It wasn’t perfect, but it would do some damage.
If he could get close enough. The taser pole had a longer reach. He’d just have to be quick and stay out of range as best he could.
“Let’s go work on those bolts.” Asher stood up, tucking the shiv into the back of his pants. He’d fashioned a hook earlier, but wanted to get both things done before he tried the hook tool.
At the top of the stairs, he slid the hook under the door. He’d bent the end, hoping it would give him a better angle of attack. All he needed was to get the bottom bolt out. He had enough mass and strength to bust through the top lock. He couldn’t do both. He’d tried before he started the shiv.
The twisted springs scraped the door, sometimes knocking into the bolt, but he couldn’t get the angle right to catch the latch. With a frustrated growl, he sat up. “I wish I knew what it looked like on the other side.” It would be useful to know the lock’s orientation. If he needed to push to open the latch rather than pull, he doubted he’d be able to open it.
Pulling the hook in, he added another bend higher up the twisted springs. The hook wasn’t flush enough with the door. Hopefully, he still had enough leverage like this to pull on the latch if he managed to hook it.
A distant voice reached his ears. It was a man, shouting.
“Fuck!” he muttered under his breath. They were out of time. “Back downstairs, Leah. Go!” He ushered the girl down, then shoved the hook under her mattress, out of sight. He left the shiv in the back of his pants. His shirt covered it.
“The costume!” She pointed to the tattered fabric they’d left lying on the floor.
Asher picked it up and rolled it into a ball, stuffing it in a corner by his bed. He couldn’t do anything about how it looked, but he could hide it as best he could. He also dragged the thin cotton blanket up over the ruined mattress. His hope was their captor wouldn’t look at the camera footage, assuming that since everything looked the same, they’d behaved while he was out.
With another quick look around the room, Asher backed toward Leah’s cot. Everything looked as it had when the man left.
The voice grew louder. But there was something new. A softer, higher-pitched voice. Then another joined in, rising over the other two. This one he recognized.
“Goddammit,” he whispered. What the hell was she doing here? If she’d let herself get captured to rescue them, they would have words later. Lots of words. She was a teacher; not a cop or a bodyguard or any other profession that lent itself to rescuing people.
The bolts holding the basement door in place clacked and scraped. A moment later, a shaft of light came down the stairs.
“You two.” Their captor’s voice carried down the steps. “Get up here. And don’t try anything.”
Leah looked at Asher with round eyes. “I don’t want to go up there.”
“I know, but we need to. This is our chance. Stay close and do what I tell you, okay?”
She caught her lip between her teeth and nodded.
He helped her off the bed, then took her hand, leading her toward the steps. Their captor stood at the top, a pistol clutched in his right hand.
Cautiously, Asher mounted the stairs. Two from the top, he paused. “You want to back up so we can come out?”
The man took a step to the side. “Move.” He flicked the gun.
Asher moved Leah to his other side, putting himself between her and the man as they cleared the doorway.
“Mom!” Leah broke free from Asher’s grip and dashed across the kitchen to the platinum blonde standing handcuffed next to Esther.
“Leah!” The woman looped her arms over Leah’s head. A sob ripped from her chest as she clutched her daughter.
Asher only watched them for a moment before turning his gaze to Esther. She looked no worse for wear. In fact, a low anger simmered in her bright blue eyes.
“That’s enough,” the man said. “Leah, come away from her.”
Leah shook her head and tucked it into Connie’s chest. She held Connie tighter around the waist.
“I said, come here.”
Again, Leah shook her head.
“You will listen to me! I am your father.”
Leah froze. Asher’s eyes widened. What? He’d considered the possibility, but not hard. Suddenly, many things made sense.
Slowly, Leah lifted her head to look at her mom.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Connie said, her voice cracking. “It’s true.”
“No. No, my daddy’s name is Rob.”
Connie’s hand fisted in Leah’s shirt, and she closed her eyes. A tear leaked free. “It’s complicated, sweetie. But Bradley’s right. He’s your dad.” She aimed a glare at him. “As much as I wish he wasn’t.”
The hammer cocked on the gun as Bradley drew it back. He pointed it at Asher. “Get her away from Lindy.”
A ball formed in Asher’s chest, pushing on his heart. He did not want to rip that girl away from her mother.
“You’re of little use to me now, Mr. Horn. I won’t hesitate to kill you if you don’t cooperate.”
Asher sent him a deadly glare. Two steps. That’s all it would take to put him within swinging range of Bradley’s face. But he couldn’t risk the man accidentally firing his gun. There were too many people in the confined space.
He turned to Leah and held out an arm. “Leah, honey, come stand with me. Just for a bit.” He looked at Connie, silently pleading with her to urge Leah to let go.
Choking back a sob, Connie lifted her arms and shifted. “Sweetie. Go with Asher.”
“No!”
“Please, honey. We need to do what Bradley says.” She framed Leah’s face and bent close, whispering something to her. Asher couldn’t make out what she said.
Whatever it was, it worked. Leah eventually nodded and backed away. Asher held out a hand, and she took it, latching onto his side with her other arm.
“What are we doing?” Esther asked. “You have all of us here. What do you want?”
A cold smile slid over Bradley’s face. His eyes turned as hard and flinty as stone. He shifted the weapon away from Asher, keeping it raised, but now pointed at the wall. “It’s simple, really.” He shrugged one shoulder, his nonchalance in direct contrast to the anger running through his expression. “I want the family I was denied.”