Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Jayda struggled against the leather glove over her mouth and the vice grip that held her arms so tight she couldn’t fill her lungs.
Stars flashed before her eyes, but somewhere off in the distance she could hear Michael calling for her.
She whimpered, wanting to call out to him for help, now that she couldn’t any longer.
As soon as she was carried out a side door, a black car waited for them.
It happened so fast her brain could hardly stitch the images together of the gleam of tinted glass before her and three men in dark coats moving as one. Their footsteps pounded the pavement, tossing her inside the vehicle. Before she could scream, she heard Michael shouting.
“Let her go!”
And then he was beside her, thrown to the floor.
“No!” Jayda cried, twisting against the wall of muscle that was the man who still held her.
The door slammed shut with a heavy, last sound of captivity, and the car lurched forward. Jayda strained toward the door, heart hammering. The train station blurred past—and in that quick streak of motion, she saw them.
Ginny. Ed. Caroline. Henry. The twins.
They were running after the car, faces tight with fear, with hands waving, voices shouting—though Jayda could barely hear through the sealed glass. They were no match for the accelerating vehicle. Within seconds, they slowed, the defeat in their postures breaking Jayda’s heart.
Then, just before the car turned the corner, Ginny pressed two fingers to her lips and whistled a sharp, commanding sound that carried even through the glass.
Jayda’s eyes widened as a yellow cab swerved into view.
Ginny pointed, yelling instructions as she and Ed jumped in the back, leaving the twins with Caroline and Henry.
The cab raced away from the curb, closing the gap between them.
Tears filled Jayda’s eyes at the sight, conflicted about the danger everyone was in because of her but never feeling so loved.
The crisp, unmistakable metallic click of a gun being loaded twisted Jayda back around. Her breath stilled at the sight, drying her eyes in an instant.
It was “Scar” who sat across from her. The same man from the law library. The man she’d tasered. His dark suit looked perfectly pressed, his hair slicked back, and the pistol in his hand pointed right at her would do more than her stun gun ever did to him.
“My turn,” he said, his voice a gravel chuckle.
Michael shifted instantly, sliding in front of her like a shield. “You want her, you go through me.”
Jayda’s throat constricted. “Michael, don’t.” She reached for him, her palm flat against his chest, meaning to push him back, meaning to protect him instead.
But then, from the other side, another man swung the butt of a pistol. The crack against Michael’s skull was sickening. His body folded to the floor before Jayda could shout, no.
“Michael!” Her scream tore out of her as she dropped beside him. His chest still rose and fell, but his eyes were closed, lashes dark against his cheek. A lump was already forming on his temple.
The man across from her leaned forward, pistol steady, eyes cold. “This isn’t his fight. It’s ours.”
Jayda’s mind raced, heart battering against her ribs. She swallowed hard, forcing herself upright, though her whole body shook. “I don’t want a fight with you,” she said quickly, firmly. Her voice surprised her—calm, even. Like she was already in the courtroom, standing before a jury.
The man tilted his head, amused.
Jayda pushed forward. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all.
I’m a law student. I…I tend to get caught up in the rules.
You were breaking the rules—taking that case file out of the library.
That’s why I reacted.” She nodded toward his gun.
“I would never have used my stun gun if you hadn’t pulled that on me first.”
His lips quirked. He was enjoying this.
Her hands trembled, but she clasped them tightly in her lap, steadying her voice. “The papers are gone. I can’t give you what you want.”
The man’s smile vanished. “Oh, you’ll give me exactly what I want.” He leaned closer, the gun now angled slightly toward Michael’s unconscious body. “You’re going to lead me straight to my sister.”
Jayda’s pulse surged. Veronica was his sister? Was this how he treated his family? He could take a lesson from the Blairs.
She schooled her face into neutrality, summoning every ounce of training, every courtroom rebuttal she’d practiced in mock trials. “I don’t know where she is,” she said flatly.
The silence that followed suffocated her, but she kept her expression still, taking slow breaths.
His eyes narrowed.
The muzzle of the gun dipped until it rested directly over Michael.
Jayda’s composure fractured. Her body moved before her mind could catch up.
She lunged forward, falling over Michael, her arms covering him, her face pressed against his chest. “Fine!” The word ripped from her throat, losing this battle so soon, but she had no other choice.
I’m so sorry, Veronica. “She’s in California. Just leave him alone!”
For a heartbeat, the only sound in the car was Jayda’s ragged breathing and the hum of the engine.
“San Fran? I should have known. Our traitorous mother’s hometown.”
Jayda dropped her gaze, knowing she gave more information away even without saying the city. Some lawyer she would have made.
Then a low chuckle rolled out of the man. Veronica’s blood relative, who was out for her blood, leaned back, relaxed again, the pistol shifting its aim back to Jayda. His smile was satisfied, almost tender in its cruelty. “I knew you’d see it my way. Get him out of here.”
“No!”
The car slowed, and the second man opened the door just enough to kick Michael to the curb. The door shut before she could see if he was all right. The car took off again, heading up the mountain pass, leaving Michael behind. Jayda could only pray Ginny and Ed would find him in time.
And that they would find her too. Right now, the only place Jayda wanted to be was home with her family.
The first thing Michael felt was cold. The icy wind bit into his skin, stole his breath, and scraped at his lungs.
His body ached as if it had been wrung out and discarded, every bone protesting as he stirred from a frozen snowbank.
When he opened his eyes, flakes of snow fell onto his lashes, and the world around him was white and spinning.
He was lying half on the frozen shoulder of a mountain road, half in a drift, the crunch of distant tires still ringing in his ears.
For a long, heart-stopping second, he couldn’t place where he was—or why. Then it all came back in a rush: the black car, the men, Jayda’s scream muffled under their grip, his own desperate attempt to shield her before something cracked against his skull.
Jayda.
The word was a shout inside his mind, louder than his pulse.
He pushed himself upright too fast, his head reeling.
He staggered, boots slipping on the icy gravel.
His hands fumbled for purchase on the guardrail.
The car—where was the car? He spun, his gaze sweeping the winding road.
The sound of an engine roared faintly in the distance, already climbing higher into the mountains, carrying her farther and farther away.
“Michael!”
The voice hit him through the haze, clear and frantic.
A yellow cab skidded to a stop on the icy road, brakes squealing.
Out tumbled his father, his overcoat whipping in the wind, and Ginny right behind, clutching her scarf.
They were both running to him before he could find his balance, their faces a mixture of fear and relief.
Ginny was the first to reach him, her hands cupping his cheeks, tilting his face this way and that. “Michael—oh, thank God. You’re bleeding, your head—you need a doctor.”
Ed’s hand was firm on his shoulder, steadying him. “Son, can you stand? Did they shoot you?”
“I’m fine,” Michael rasped, shrugging them off. His voice was raw, shaking. “It doesn’t matter. Jayda—she’s still in that car.”
He pointed down the mountain road, where the mobsters’ vehicle was only a shrinking blur against the white horizon. Panic twisted inside him like a blade. “They’ve got her. If we don’t catch up, they’ll kill her.”
Ginny grabbed his arm. “We’ve called the police. Let them handle this. Please, Michael—you’re hurt, and those men—”
“No!” His shout echoed off the jagged rocks, sharper than he intended, but he didn’t care.
He tore free of her grip, chest heaving.
“The police won’t get to her in time. You saw how fast they’re moving.
By the time anyone catches up, she’ll be gone.
I can’t—” His voice broke. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. “I can’t let her be alone in this.”
For a moment, silence pressed between them, the snowfall filling it with a muffled hush.
Then Ed stepped forward, his gaze steady. “What do you want us to do?”
Michael blinked at him. The question was simple, but it hit deep, because it wasn’t just about Jayda.
It was about everything—years of strained silences, of him never being sure if he was enough in his father’s eyes.
And here was Ed, standing in the freezing wind, saying with his presence what he hadn’t always said with words: I’m with you.
Michael swallowed hard. His throat felt tight.
“You two have fought for Jayda for years,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking between them. “Even when she didn’t know it. Even when she didn’t want you to.” He looked at his father. “I know you pulled strings. Yale Law—that was you, wasn’t it? You used your connections. You got her in.”
Ed’s jaw tightened, his breath clouding in the air.
Then he shook his head. “No, son. I told only the truth about her. That girl’s one of the hardest workers I’ve ever seen.
Tougher than most of the lawyers I’ve sat across from.
Justice needs people like her. She earned her way.
” His gaze softened, though his voice didn’t.
“Just like you earned yours as a writer.”
Michael stared at him, chest thick with emotions he hadn’t expected. For years he had believed he was living in the shadow of his father’s judgments, but here was the man saying he’d seen Michael’s worth all along.
His vision blurred for a second, but he blinked it away.
There wasn’t time for this. “Then don’t stop fighting for her now,” Michael said, his voice steadier, sharper.
“Your gift to her has always been fighting in secret. But she doesn’t need secrets anymore.
She needs people who’ll stand up for her, right in front of her. She needs us.”
Ed studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Get in the cab. We’ve got a mobster to catch.”
Ginny’s eyes flashed with fear, but she pressed her lips tight and didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed Michael’s arm and half-dragged him back toward the cab, as though her own urgency couldn’t be denied either.
They piled into the backseat, slamming the doors shut. The cab driver, a wiry man with weathered skin and nerves of steel, had already seen the other car ahead. Without waiting for instructions, he floored the gas pedal, tires spitting snow as they lurched forward into the chase.
Michael’s heart thudded, every muscle tight. He leaned forward between the seats, eyes locked on the black car weaving ahead of them far in the distance. Jayda was in there. Somewhere between those tinted windows and steel doors, she was trapped—and counting on him.
“Faster,” Michael urged. His pulse kept time with the tires hammering against the icy road. “Don’t let them out of sight.”
The driver grinned through gritted teeth. “Buckle up. You want me to keep up with those animals, you’d better hang on.”
The cab shot forward, sliding dangerously on the next curve, but the driver handled it like he’d been born to these roads. Michael barely noticed. His focus was a burning tunnel on the car ahead, on Jayda.
Then the black car’s left rear window slid down.
For one suspended second, nothing moved. Then the muzzle of a gun appeared, gleaming even in the dim light.
“Down!” Michael roared, throwing his arm out across his mother as the first shot cracked through the air.
The windshield splintered with a spiderweb of cracks. Ginny screamed. The cab jerked as the driver swerved, narrowly avoiding the guardrail.
Another shot rang out.
Michael’s stomach turned to ice—but his resolve only sharpened.
He would not let up until Jayda was back in his arms.