Eleven #2
Her face wrinkled up, and she started the blinking she always did before the tears.
“B,” I directed her as I felt the gun shoved hard against me, “run.”
She didn’t argue. She was feisty, my girl, but she understood what my tone meant, and the sound of my voice had left no room for argument.
She bolted away from me to go find Sam. The idea of my munchkin alone in a store would normally make my stomach hit the floor, but she started to scream.
I heard her—I was certain dogs all across the tristate area did too—as she began to wail for her father.
“Shit,” the guy muttered behind me.
I sent up a silent prayer, thanking God that kidnapping kids had not been on his agenda. I had no idea what I would have done to keep my baby safe.
The man grabbed my bicep tight and walked me away from the produce department and then out the front door, where a black sedan was idling halfway across the parking lot.
We were close to it, almost on top of it, when the back door opened.
I saw dress pants, but no one leaned forward so I could see a face.
“Freeze!” I heard Sam yell from behind me.
It all happened so fast.
“Drop your weapon and get on the ground!” His furious roar blew through me.
My kidnapper shoved me forward at the same time, and only then did a man with a gun lean out.
All I had was my own body to shield Sam with to make sure no bullets reached the man I loved.
“Drop!”
But the command hit me, and for once, I didn’t second-guess him or worry or even think.
Normally, I acted, but I was so used to him now, to our life, to a clear division in our home.
I did the everyday stuff; Sam did emergencies.
I handled homework; he handled people with guns.
It was our way. So, he gave me an order, and I obeyed it. I simply collapsed onto the asphalt.
There were shots and yelling. The car’s engine gunned, tires squealed, and there was a volley of gunfire. When I lifted my head just a little, the car fishtailed, and its back window exploded before it crashed into a parked car.
“Stay down!” Sam yelled as he pounded by me.
My kidnapper was dead beside me on the ground, and I turned my head away, not wanting to see him.
I watched Sam run up on the SUV, stop, crouch down on the side, and yell from where he was, pressed behind the back door on the driver’s side. Anyone who could get out of the car needed to do it right fucking now before he started blowing holes in it.
There were sirens and then a whole wall of sound. When I looked, I saw the driver’s door open.
A gun was tossed out before a man emerged; fingers laced together on top of his head. He went instantly to his knees before Sam ordered him to spread-eagle on the ground.
As soon as the man complied, Sam yelled at whoever was left in the car to come out. He didn’t rush forward; he didn’t throw open doors, just waited. After another moment, the back door opened, and a man fell out onto the ground. He was clutching his right shoulder, and there was a lot of blood.
Sam still didn’t move until there were police cars surrounding him.
Officers swarmed the car, Sam pointed, and they ducked down and came around the other side.
Doors were grabbed and flung open, and then I watched as a collective breath was taken and guns started being holstered.
An ambulance parked, and when I lifted, I saw the dead man again.
It was a blur as Sam came loping back to me and dropped down on one knee.
“You’re amazing,” he praised me as I caught my breath, beginning to shake. “Baby, you listened.” He smiled big, even as his voice cracked.
“For once, huh?”
“It was the perfect time to start,” he assured me as he eased me up off the pavement and crushed me in his arms, hugging me so hard that I thought my ribs would snap. “Okay, come on. You gotta move.”
He dragged me to my feet, threw me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and then yelled for help.
Two officers were there fast, parting the crowd, and I was back in the store, stopping right inside the front door, off to the left, where the shopping carts were. It was also where Kola and Hannah were.
When the kids saw me, they ran. As soon as Sam put me down, I was mobbed by little people. Sam ordered the officers to guard me and the kids and not let anyone near; he didn’t care who it was.
“I’m authorizing deadly force—do you understand?”
They did.
Sam was gone then, charging back out through the doors.
“Pa, what happened?” Kola asked me, sitting down beside me on the floor, holding my hand between both of his. “Hannah said there was a man, but I didn’t see him.”
“It’s okay; I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me,” I told my son before turning to my girl. “You did a good job, going to get Daddy, B. I’m so proud of you.”
She nodded, and I saw how puffy her eyes were then and guessed what had happened. As I pulled her into my lap, I looked back at my boy.
“Good job translating what she needed, Kola,” I told him. “I bet she was crying really hard and Daddy didn’t understand.”
His smile was huge. “He didn’t, but I did.”
I put a hand on his cheek. “Good job, love.”
He was beaming with pride, Hannah started hiccupping, and I clutched them both tight to me as chaos swirled around us.
As I listened to Kola talk to Hannah, tell her that when they got home, if she wanted, he would play Candy Land with her before bed, and felt her nod and start telling him who she wanted to be, the cold knot of fear in the pit of my stomach slowly started to unravel.
There would be time to sort out my head later.
Right this second, for the kids, I was their rock.
I was fine, so they were fine. It was how it worked.
Who would have guessed that, someday, I was going to be the grown-up?