Chapter 24 #3
“I’m sorry. I would never hurt her. I’m sorry.
” He sucked in his breath and his next words chilled me to the bone.
“The police officers are dead, Val. They were murdered.” Now his goddamn voice held the same cold and calculating tone as I’d heard the day I’d caught him with his fucking pants down, high as a kite and determined to kill me.
My body began to shake.
“What are you talking about?” The question was the only one I could manage to utter, my mind foggy as the fear threatened to paralyze me. I was whispering when there was no reason. “What did you do? Tell me.” Now I was becoming frantic.
When the lights and television shot off, my heart slammed into my throat. The bright sun did nothing to eliminate the shadows. Spinning around, I rushed from the kitchen heading to the one window where I could see clearly outside the front.
One of the police cruisers’ car doors was wide open. And… And…
I pressed my hand against the window, straining with the tears forming in my eyes to understand what I was seeing.
The officer was down and… He was bathed in a pool of blood.
“Just do as I say. Get out of the house. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Bruno was insistent, almost as frantic as I’d become. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.
I ended the call, shoving the phone in my jeans pocket as I raced toward the half bath.
Hudson’s words played firmly in my ears.
“You need to listen to me. If anything happens, the keys to my Range Rover are in left hand kitchen drawer just before the garage. A lot of steel in that baby.”
“What are you saying?”
“I just want to ensure you’re safe. Nothing to worry about. There’s plenty of gas.”
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Bella shrieked when I grabbed her hand, yanking her arm hard enough I knew I’d terrified her.
When she started crying, I cringed deep inside.
Oh, my God. I snagged the bags I’d already packed, glancing over my shoulder.
They were dead. What the hell had Bruno meant? What had he done?
“We’re fine, honey. Just a little change in plans.”
Bang.
The sound seemed amplified. Someone was trying to break in through the front door. I didn’t stop, jerking open the drawer. The panic attack almost rendered me useless. No. No. No! Calm the fuck down.
Bam!
I snagged the keys just as I heard a horrible cracking sound. There was no time to waste.
Yanking her into my arms, I flew out the garage door, barely able to breathe.
The flight or fight moment slammed into my system and I put her down long enough to toss several boxes onto the garage stairs.
But I was quick, able to keep my shit together long enough to get Bella strapped in, the bags tossed and jumping into the driver’s seat in a few seconds.
My hand was shaking so badly I almost dropped the keys. Please, God. Please. Get me out of here. My silent prayer was about to go unheeded or flat-out ignored. I’d forgotten the power was off. Fuck.
With the doors locked, I started the engine and glared at the closed garage door, pressing the button on the console clipped to the visor even though I knew there was no power to force it to operate.
What the hell was I supposed to do, wait?
I had my answer seconds later when a flash caught my eye. A man holding a weapon was coming through the garage door, which meant he’d gotten into the house. He tripped over the boxes, but his fall would only give me but so much time.
“Hold on, baby. Please. Just hold on.” The terror crawling through me was as if I was wrapped up in plastic, incapable of moving, but the subtle cry of my daughter cut through the suffocating film.
I jammed my foot on the accelerator and did some additional praying as I yelled through clenched teeth. One ram didn’t do it so I backed up.
And did it again.
Just as the motherfucker managed to grab onto the handle of the back passenger door where my daughter was sitting.
“Get off, you motherfucker.” My hiss rang in my ears.
He pounded on the window.
Bella squealed.
“It’s okay, baby.” With my teeth gritted, I rammed the door again.
The garage door cracked, one side beginning to cave in.
She screamed.
I screamed.
Then I became furious. “No, you don’t, you motherfucker.” This time I wasn’t stopping for anything or anyone. I slammed my foot on the accelerator, finally able to crash through the broken door. He was forced away, immediately trying to lunge forward. Poor baby. He tripped and fell.
The other two goons with guns in their hands hadn’t expected me to burst from the garage. Facing the other way, they barely managed to turn and jump out of the way before I yanked the steering wheel, the tires screeching when I threw on the brakes to avoid hitting one of the patrol cars.
Barely missing it, I swerved and jammed my foot on the gas, flooring it down the driveway just as the bastards managed to stand, the third already chasing me. I swerved back and forth, anticipating gunfire.
There was none.
They had an easy shot if they wanted to incapacitate the vehicle. Or me.
That meant one thing.
They hadn’t come to kill me.
They’d come to capture me.