Countdown. Heather Woodhaven
to make sure she was okay. She seemed to understand his unasked question because she nodded, her lips in a tight line. She crossed her legs, sat on the ground and the boys jumped onto either side of her lap. She whispered into their ears, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. He trusted she was attempting to soothe them as she’d done earlier.
“Maybe they’re onto us,” the other man said. “I found a car in the garage, but it’s empty.”
“Or they got picked up by that neighbor girlfriend of his.”
James turned in time to see Rachel roll her eyes.
“So we’re going to check there, too?” the other man’s voice responded. “I heard she’s a spitfire.”
“I’ll go. She won’t give me problems.”
The other man laughed, a sickening chuckle. “Just because you hide behind your NSA badge.”
“Hey,” the man yelled. The sound of shuffling feet rattled the bookshelf door upstairs. James flinched. If they were thorough, it wouldn’t take them long to figure out there was no wall behind it.
“I wouldn’t be here if your team hadn’t messed up,” the second man said, his voice seething. “So get to work finding the guy’s computer. Grab any electronics you see like a hard drive or something.”
James glanced at the backpack at his feet where he’d stuffed his laptop. Even if they got their hands on it, he felt sure they wouldn’t find anything of use. He’d wiped all evidence of his work from it.
“Trash the place?”
“Whatever it takes to get the job done.”
James’s heart dropped. He shoved the phone back in his pocket. NSA? This wasn’t how the NSA acted, so either the agent was a fake or crooked, but either way, the police wouldn’t do him much good if one of the men had an NSA badge to flash.
But now he knew what they were after. They’d confirmed his suspicions. This was about Launch Operations, and Derrick was the only one he could trust. He clicked the intercom volume off before the boys could understand their toys were in danger of being smashed. “I think it’s time to go.”
Rachel extracted herself to stand. “Where?”
Crash!
James grimaced and swung his backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s focus on getting out of here first.” He pointed to the white door behind the staircase. “This office used to be part of the garage before we remodeled. Boys, time to go.” He led the way in case one of the boys slammed the door open, drawing attention to their location. He cracked the door open and trained his eyes on the set of steps connected to the kitchen.
All clear.
Rachel followed behind.
He waved them closer but kept his eye on the other door into the house. “Remember, no noise, boys. Quiet game.”
Rachel placed Caleb in his booster seat while Ethan jumped into his. James shoved the backpacks the boys had discarded underneath their feet.
“We can buckle them in later,” she whispered.
James grabbed the seat belt to Ethan’s left. That was not a risk he was willing to take, no matter how short the ride. “No. We buckle them in now.”
Her wide eyes met his for half a second before she nodded and buckled Caleb.
“Lift the handle as you close it,” Rachel whispered, but it came out more like a hiss. Closing the doors still made some noise. James hoped the chaos the men were creating inside would mask their movements.
A moment later they were all inside the Charger. Rachel held her purse against her chest like someone clinging to a flotation device pictured on an airplane safety pamphlet, and her backpack sat between her feet. “You, too,” he said softly, his eyes drifting to the unbuckled seat belt.
She raised her eyebrows and looked at him. Confusion lined her forehead. James shook his own seat belt as he clicked it into place with his left hand.
“Oh.” She followed his example as he turned the key in the ignition with his right hand. The door to the house burst open.
“Stop,” a man in a black suit hollered. He whipped a gun out from the holster underneath his suit jacket and aimed the weapon at the windshield.
Rachel’s heart went into overdrive at the sight of the weapon. Her body stiffened and her fingernails dug deep into the sides of the leather seat. The man kept the gun level at the driver’s side of the windshield.
“Shift to Reverse.” James spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “While he’s focused on me.”
He had to be joking. Rachel stared at the gun. One move of the trigger finger and James would be shot. The man took one step down the garage steps, but his weapon remained on target.
The man narrowed his eyes and yelled, “Hands up.”
James slowly began to lift his hands. “Rachel.” His voice sounded like a plea.
“He’s a bad man, Daddy!” one of the boys cried.
The little voice was her undoing. So much could go wrong, but the alternative meant being in the gunman’s control. She’d had more than her share of interactions with arrogant, adrenaline-filled crooks with guns. It never ended well.
Rachel slipped her left hand to the gearshift and shoved it down into Reverse.
The car shot backward. Her head bounced off the headrest as the car smashed against the garage door. The screech of aluminum filled the air as the garage door buckled. James must have floored it.
His hands snatched the steering wheel as the car shot into the street. He swung the car around, and her hands hit the dashboard as he shifted into Drive.
Shards of the left mirror exploded and bounced off the driver’s-side window. It mimicked the sound of hail during a thunderstorm. An involuntary scream tore out of her mouth as the wheels squealed and the car sped down the street.
The boys’ screeches overpowered hers. “Were you hit?” She turned to find the boys petrified in their booster seats. Little teardrops rolled down their cheeks, but they fell silent. No sign of blood or injury.
James said nothing, but his face paled.
Rachel peeked in the right-side mirror. Were they still shooting? Two men in suits were running to the black sedan in the cul-de-sac.
She flung her gaze back to James. “Call the police. Have you called the police?”
“I wish we could, but we can’t.” James zigzagged through the roads out of the subdivision. “Did you hear them? They have fake badges. They shot at us.”
She unzipped her purse, hunting for her phone in the unorganized mess. “All the more reason to call.” If he wasn’t going to do it, she would.
“No. Rachel, we’re dealing with people who are trying to launch a weapon in the sky.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “Imagine what kind of resources they have at their disposal. I won’t trust anyone with the safety of my sons until I hear from Derrick.” He lowered his voice so softly she almost didn’t hear him continue. “I’d die before I let one of those goons close enough to touch them.”
Her fingertips found her phone at the bottom of the bag, but she hesitated to dial. She’d seen firsthand how much he loved his sons and his words only confirmed it. Her finger hovered over the screen. Her heart beat so loudly in her ears she struggled to think straight. “Is Derrick the contact you mentioned? The one from the NSA?”
“Hold on.” He took a turn at a diagonal. “Yes. I need to speak with him, and I need to focus now. I’m driving