Authors: Cait Jarrod
Kidnapped Hearts (8 page)
He nodded.
“How’d you find
out?”
He rubbed his
fingers over his jaw. “A birdy told me.”
At that moment,
Marge appeared, looking sheepish. Despite her guilty look, Pamela quickly
dismissed the idea that Marge was the birdy. By the time Marge had found out,
her dad would have already left
but she probably filled him in on the details. She glanced at the table. No one
there would have called him.
Her father put
an end to her guessing game. “The security company calls my cell as well as
yours. On the way, I called Fredericksburg Police Station. An officer I know
gave me the details.”
Pamela
hiccupped. Her dad had a lot of influence in
find out information. She looked over her shoulder. Surprisingly, Jake stood
just behind her. “Dad, this is…”
“I know who
this is,” Donald interrupted. “How are you, Jake?” He shook Jake’s hand firmly.
“I haven’t seen you in years. I see you cut your hair. Glad to see it. Did you
ever marry?”
Jake withdrew
his hand. “No, sir, I didn’t.”
“Humph, I
thought you had your sights on some girl you met in
Pamela looked
up at Jake. An odd expression crossed his features.
“Things didn’t
pan out, sir.”
Donald smacked
Jake on the back. “They rarely do.” Donald retrieved two chairs from another
table, one for him and one for Marge.
“We need food,”
Celine suggested as she looked around for Sue.
“I’ll get some.
Be right back,” Marge said, as she headed toward the kitchen. A few minutes
later, Marge and Sue brought out a tray with several plates of food, the
specials for the day.
The food
served, the friends along with Donald and Marge settled into a casual conversation.
Donald updated them about Grand Ann’s hip replacement and Grand Ben’s
restlessness. Pamela still couldn’t believe it had been a year since her
grandparents moved to
move and stayed to make sure they were okay. She missed all of them.
Pamela watched
Marge pat Donald’s arm after he made a joke. She smiled. The affection between
the two was unmistakable, and she wondered if Marge would ever become her
stepmother. She hoped so.
Her eyes landed
on Jake, sitting even closer to her. Her dad knew him, which when she thought
about it, made sense, but the fact that he was almost married didn’t settle
well with her. It was probably the wine talking. Two glasses and she was toast.
Pamela
hiccupped.
“You’re full of
surprises, Agent Gibson.”
Jake’s eyes met
hers over his glass. He set his glass next to the empty decanter. Next, he
added her empty wine glass to the collection. In a monotone voice, he said,
“It’s just Jake.”
She stared at
the empty glass and debated arguing to get it back. At that moment, she
hiccupped and gave up on the thought. She shifted her eyes, trying to focus on
Jake’s face. He was a little fuzzy, the effect of the alcohol.
“Too bad Steve
isn’t here,” Donald’s voice boomed, gaining the table’s attention. He leaned
back in his seat, stretching an arm on the back of Marge’s chair. “You’re still
at the Bureau, Jake?”
“Retired, sir.”
“Do you know
Steve Anderson?”
“Can’t say that
I do.”
“Steve would
find out what happened last night in short order.”
“Dad,” Pamela
started, then stopped, realizing she couldn’t tell him Jake was looking into
the situation. A hiccup exploded instead. “Darn it.” She slapped a hand over
her mouth.
Donald eyed his
daughter across the table. “You’ve had more than a glass of wine?’
Pamela lowered
in her chair, trying to hide from her dad’s parental glare, and waited for the
lecture.
“You can’t
drive home.” The lecture had started. “You blow a point eight, and the police
will lock you up, then what will happen to your café? I’ve told you time and
time again.”
“I’m driving
her home, sir,” Jake interrupted.
Donald eyed
him, then his half-empty glass, in the center of the table. He focused back on
Pamela. “Sorry.”
Pamela gave a
weak smile and tried not to jump out of her seat to kiss Jake for saving her
once again.
Donald’s
examining eyes landed on Jake. “You’re dating my daughter?”
“No, sir.”
Jake’s callous
tone squelched any thoughts Pamela had of kissing him.
“Last night,
after the Peeping Tom incident, I took Pamela home. I’ll do the same tonight.”
“Her car’s in
the back parking lot,” Donald said, as if that would make a difference if Jake
could take her home.
“I rode with
Paul tonight, so I’ll drive her car.”
“You’re pretty
presumptuous for a man not dating my daughter.”
“I—” Jake
stopped. His hand flew to his ear. In a fluid motion, Jake bolted out of his
chair, grabbing Pamela’s arm, and shouted, “Get inside! Everyone down!”
Pamela’s arm
jerked forward. Her body followed. Jake pulled her through the mass of people
into the dining room toward the bar. Men in suits barged into the café,
shouting orders. Jake’s hand clutched his ear again, and someone knocked her
onto the tile floor.
Screams and
cries hung in the evening air as people rushed inside the café. What was out
there?
“Everybody get
down!” Jake commanded. A hard body covered hers, from head to toe. “You’ll be
okay,” he whispered beside her ear.
Instantaneously,
a popping sound filled the air mixed with glass shattering. Pamela covered her
head with her hands. “Gunshots?” she whispered, but the question landed on deaf
ears. Nothing could be heard over the ruckus.
People on the
street screamed along with customers in the café as bullets sprayed. Sirens
blasted and, finally, the shattering sound diminished.
Jake moved off
her. “Pamela.”
Removing her
hands from the back of her head, she looked over her shoulder. Jake knelt on
one knee and held out his hand. Ignoring it, she bit her lip and pushed up on
her knees. Broken glass scattered along the white and black tile. Her eyes
skimmed over her customers. Most of them were okay, but others….
Pamela gasped.
Blood spread across several faces. Oh my god, oh my god… It looked like a war
zone. She scanned the numerous people on the floor, crying, clutching parts of
their body, and then, her eyes found her dad. His large frame was huddled over
a body lying on the floor. She shifted to see better.
“No!” She
climbed to her feet. “Marge!” she screamed as tears fell down her face. Pamela
raced to her father’s side. Jake beat her to him. Her dad’s hands pressed on
Marge’s neck. Blood covered them.
“Get me a
towel,” Jake ordered to Sue standing nearby, looking flustered. She left and
returned quickly. Jake pressed the towel on Marge’s neck.
“I pulled the
piece of glass out of her neck.” Donald sat back on his haunches, tears in his
eyes. “I knew better.”
Pamela didn’t
know what to do, console her father or Marge. Jake’s soothing voice broke
through the internal panic rushing through her body. “Pamela, Marge will be
fine. I need you to keep pressure applied to the wound, so I can check on the
others.”
She nodded.
He guided her
hand onto Marge’s neck. “Keep pressure on it. The ambulance will be here
shortly.”
She stared at
Marge’s neck. “Okay.” Pamela pressed on the already blood soaked towel and
looked at Marge’s pale face.
“Sweetheart.”
“Don’t talk,
Marge. You need your strength.”
“Pamela, I love
you.”
Pamela
swallowed an exploding sob. She had to be strong … for Marge. “Marge, don’t
talk that way. You will be okay.”
Marge moved her
hand until it touched Pamela’s leg. “Honey, where’s your father?”
She broke her
gaze away from Marge and glanced over her shoulder. Donald sat on the floor
beside Marge, holding her hand in a daze. Pamela sucked in another sob. Marge
couldn’t feel her dad touching her. This wasn’t good. She pinched her lips,
swallowed, and in her strongest voice said, “Dad, Marge has to keep her head
straight. She can’t see you. Lean your head forward.”
Donald leaned
up on one knee and looked into Marge’s eyes. “Love, you will be okay.” He
leaned down and kissed her lips. “I love you.”
“I love you,
dear.”
The sob that
Pamela tried to hold back burst through. A loud noise vibrated from her chest,
and her nose ran. “Where’s the fucking ambulance?” Pamela screamed.
Someone touched
her back, then another pair of hands touched her. She felt like she was in the
middle of a human sandwich. She heard the sniffles to her right and knew it was
Celine. To the left, soothing words were trying to comfort her, Paul. Another
pair of hands joined, resting their hands on top of the towel with hers.
“Jake,” she sobbed. “This is my fault.”
Warm lips
touched her temple. “Nonsense.”
“EMTs are
here,” Paul announced, backing out of the way. Celine followed, but not Jake.
He stayed with her.
Several members
of the Emergency Medical Team walked through the scattered glass, carrying
stretchers. A young man crouched beside her. “I’ll take it from here. You’ve
done great.”
Pamela shook
her head, wiped her nose, and stood.
Two more men
supported Marge’s back then slipped her onto a stretcher. After strapping her
to the board, they raised the stretcher. “We’re taking her to
said, and disappeared out of sight. Her dad followed.
Pamela drew in
breath. Air wheezed inside her tight lungs as she took in the chaos. Paul and
Celine walked around helping people while Sue swept the pieces of glass. Agent
Lever, along with several men in suits, swarmed the dining room. Her café was a
disaster. Worse, people were hurt because of her. Devastated, she fell
backwards.
Hands grasped
her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and
reached her hand under her butt to pull out whatever it was that stabbed her.
She figured it’d be a piece of glass. It wasn’t. Instead, she held a rock the
size of a fist. A rubber band held a note to it.
She looked at
Jake kneeling beside her. Air escaped her lungs, sounding like a balloon
leaking. This was all her fault. Marge was in the back of an ambulance,
fighting for her life because of her. Against her better judgment, she removed
the rubber band and read the note.
You
were warned.
The hard, crushing fact that a terrorist put family, friends,
and her business into a blood bath shook her to the core. Her body trembled,
tears streamed, and her vision blurred.
“She’s in
shock. Get an ambulance over here,” a male voice said. Was it Steve? Paul?
“Stay with me,
sweetheart.”
Warm lips
sealed hers.
The lights went
out.
Chapter
Six
Jake paced the
waiting area of the Emergency Room, waiting for the go ahead to see Pamela. One
hand in his pocket, the other hand slid across his forehead as he tried to
understand how the Black Scorpions had breached the FBI’s secured area. Through
the chaos, he had heard agents were down, but hadn’t been told officially.
He stopped pacing in front of the double
windows and stared into the parking lot. When he had seen Pamela not moving, he
had thought the worst. Another woman he let down came to mind. Though in
Pamela’s case, she was innocent. At least, he wanted to believe that. He had
had the same thoughts about Jennifer. When he started dating her, he hadn’t
dreamed she’d be mixed up with a terrorist. Damn, he knew better than to get
involved with any woman while working a case. Not exactly FBI protocol, but he
had done it, and now, he faced being attached to another woman.
He hit his palm against his forehead.
You dumb shit
.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, son.”
His former boss and mentor stepped up
behind him. “Sir.”
“How’s Pamela?”
“She has a lump the size of an egg on the
back of her head. I haven’t heard anything else. Did Donald call?”
“Celine called for him. She’s waiting
with him until I get there, then she’s heading to Pamela’s bedside where Paul
is standing vigil.”
Jake shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I hate sitting by idly.”
Hal jammed his thumb toward the door.
“Then get back there.”
