Chapter 34
We only want the woman.
Izzy’s heart sank. This wasn't about Andrew at all. He was just the bait.
From the driver's seat, another voice—younger, panicked: "This wasn't the plan. You said we grab her and go. Nobody said anything about—"
"Shut up." The gunman's hand shook worse now, the weapon wavering against Andrew's temple. "We grab the woman. That's it."
Classic amateur hour. Hired muscle with no real experience, their plan already falling apart. But amateurs with guns were often more dangerous than professionals.
In the van, Andrew squirmed, using the distraction of the argument to work his way toward the open door. His eyes met hers—wide with terror, but also calculating. Even terrified, Andrew was looking for an angle.
The gunman noticed too late. "Hey, stop—"
Andrew threw himself sideways, tumbling toward the door.
Izzy and Cory moved as one.
The van's driver had jumped out in the chaos, whether to help or flee Izzy didn't know.
Not that it mattered. She went low, catching him behind the knees in a classic takedown.
He hit the icy ground hard, air whooshing from his lungs.
She followed through with an elbow to his solar plexus, ensuring he'd stay down.
Behind her, she heard Cory's impact with the gunman inside the van, the meaty sound of bodies colliding. The confined space would make it brutal—no room to maneuver, just close-quarters violence.
The gun went off, deafening even from outside. The bullet punched through the van's ceiling, and then she heard the distinctive sound of breaking grip—Cory had the gunman's wrist. The weapon clattered across the floor.
Andrew tumbled out of the van onto the snow, still bound, making muffled sounds through the duct tape.
Ten seconds. Maybe less. All four attackers down.
"Clear," Cory said, already producing zip ties from somewhere. How did he always have exactly what they needed?
The attackers were already starting to stir. They needed to move fast.
The first guy who’d come at her was conscious and groaning, cradling his dislocated shoulder.
Cory crouched beside him while she kept watch. "Who hired you?"
"Don't... don't know." The man's face was gray with pain. "Got a call. Five grand each. Grab the woman."
"And then?"
"Never got that far. Payment first, then details." He gestured weakly at the van. "Burner phone in the console."
Cory retrieved it, checking the last number. "Blocked. Of course."
"We can't call this in," Izzy said quietly. "Too many questions we can't answer."
He nodded, already thinking. "We leave them tied up. Anonymous tip to the PD in ten minutes. They'll find four men with illegal weapons, attempted kidnapping gone wrong."
"And Andrew?"
They both looked at her ex, still bound and gagged, eyes wide with terror.
Ugh. She blew out a breath. "We can't let him go—he's a witness and a target."
"Get him in our vehicle," Cory decided. "We'll figure it out on the way."
Izzy hauled Andrew to his feet, not particularly gentle about it. He stumbled through the snow toward Cory's SUV, making panicked sounds through the tape.
Once they were moving, tires crunching through fresh snow as they descended the mountain, Izzy reached back and yanked the tape off his mouth.
He yelped then immediately started babbling. "They told me they were just going to grab you. Said it was just to scare you. Make you back off."
"Shut up, Andrew." She cut his wrist bonds with her tactical knife. No point in him being tied up in Cory's vehicle.
"That Sloane chick hired me." The words poured out like water from a broken dam. "Sloane Barnes-Something. Said I just had to file papers, make your life hard. Fifty grand to harass you, another fifty if I got custody. But then these guys grabbed me. Said if I didn’t get you to show up, they’d kill me. "
Cory made a noise. “They planned to kill you anyway genius.”
“What?” Andrew’s eyes widened. “No.”
Cory shot her a look. “I could take him back. Text that theory.”
“No!” Andrew shouted.
Izzy twisted in her seat to stare at her ex-husband, this pathetic man she'd once thought she loved. "You sold out your daughter for money."
"She said no one would get hurt." Andrew's voice rose to near-hysteria. "Just legal stuff, custody battles. But then that mechanic died..." He paused, swallowing hard. “They were gonna kill me, weren’t they?”
“Both of us, most likely,” she added. Not that he cared about anyone but himself.
"When did you meet with Sloane?" Cory pressed, navigating the dark mountain road.
"Bunch of times. Always at a casino in Reno. She'd give me cash and instructions." Andrew looked between them desperately. "I have records. Times, dates. Get me out of this stupid town and I'll give you everything."
Cory flicked her a glance. “What do you want to do with him?”
"I know a place in Reno," Izzy decided. " Off the grid motel by the airport."
Andrew would hate it. Just an added little bonus.
Twenty minutes later, they were heading east on Highway 80, snow falling harder now, Andrew huddled in the backseat like a scolded child.
"Where will I go?" Andrew's whine cut through the dark. "What about my job? I can't just disappear. I have a life."
No mention of Chantal. No concern for the daughter he'd been willing to traumatize for money. Just me, me, me.
"You should have thought of that before you took money to terrorize your family," Cory said, his disgust evident.
"It wasn't like that—"
"Wasn't it?" Izzy watched him in the rearview mirror. "Did you even think about Chantal? Even once?"
His silence was answer enough.
The motel by Reno airport was exactly what she needed—cash only, no questions asked. The kind of place that catered to people who needed to disappear. She registered Andrew under a false name while he cowered in the car, Cory on watch.
"Here." She handed him the room key and her last twenty. "Someone will contact you tomorrow morning."
"Who? How will I know them?"
"You'll know. Trust me."
"But what about money? My apartment in Florida? I can't just—"
"You'll figure it out." Cory stepped between them, and Izzy had never been more grateful for his presence. "You took money to terrorize the mother of your child. You're lucky she's helping you at all."
Andrew shrank back, finally seeming to understand the contempt they both felt.
Back in the parking lot, Izzy made it three steps before the weight of it all crashed down. She stopped, pressing her palms against her eyes.
"I can't believe I ever... What was I thinking?" Her voice came out thick with unshed tears. "I picked him. I actually picked that selfish—"
"Everything unfolds according to God's plan." Cory's voice was gentle, no judgment in it. "Even our mistakes. Even our worst choices."
She lowered her hands to look at him.
"Without Andrew," he continued, "there would be no Chantal. And the world would be a darker place without that little girl's light."
The tears came then, just a few, quickly wiped away. But she smiled through them. "When you put it that way...."
For a moment, they stood close in the falling snow, and she thought he might hug her. Wanted him to. But they both stepped back, not quite ready for that line to be crossed.
The drive home was quiet, snow falling heavier now, turning the highway into a tunnel of white.
"Where will your contacts relocate him?" Cory asked as they headed back west.
She shrugged. "No idea. But nowhere fun. Probably some place that needs dishwashers who don't ask questions."
Dark humor masking the weight of the day. They'd saved Andrew but the real enemy was still out there. Sloane Barnes-Nakamura.
The lights of Hope Landing appeared through the snow like a promise of safety. But as they pulled into Knight Tactical's secure bay, Izzy knew it was a false promise.
Tomorrow would bring new dangers. But tonight, they were alive. They were safe.
And Andrew—the mistake that gave her Chantal—would disappear into whatever new life her contacts arranged.
She'd saved the man who'd tried to destroy her.
Sometimes grace looked exactly like that.