He Can Fall (She Can... #4.5)(12)

“Shh,” Sean soothed. Sound traveled far and fast in the dry cold. “You have to be quiet. They could hear you.”

She lowered her voice to a sniffling whisper. “You can’t run away. Tanner is bleeding. You have to help him.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Tanner will die, and those men will hurt my grandpa.”

Sean wavered. Carrying Mia, he might be able to reach help in two hours. Then he’d have to call the authorities. By the time assistance arrived, it could be midday. The man with the gunshot would likely bleed out. All the hostages could be dead by then, including Amanda.

“All right,” he agreed. “Let’s get closer and check the situation out. Maybe I can think of something. Who’s Tanner?”

“He’s a chef. He makes the best spaghetti.” Mia rested her head on his shoulder. Her voice trembled.

They trudged through the woods, Sean keeping his eyes and ears open for sounds of pursuit. At the edge of the woods, he set Mia on the ground behind a fat oak trunk and peered around.

“I can’t see inside,” he said. The inn was too far away for a clear view of the kitchen. “We’ll go around. I want to try to get some stuff out of my truck.” Like his field glasses—and his Glock. He also had an emergency kit in the back. A couple of space blankets would help keep Mia warm. “Where were the men keeping the people?”

“In the kitchen,” Mia said.

Sean tried to conjure up an image of the inn’s floor plan from the installation of the security system. The kitchen was in the back and looked onto the parking lot. The criminals would see them get into the vehicle. Stealing the SUV was a possibility, but there was no way to sneak into it undetected. Once seen, he and Mia would have to bolt or risk getting shot. But running could mean the deaths of all the hostages. Once the gunmen knew Sean had gone for help, they’d eliminate loose ends and run. They might take hostages with them. He doubted they’d leave anyone behind alive.

No, Sean had to stop them here and now.

There was a sedan parked next to Sean’s SUV. “What does your grandpa drive?”

“A truck. It’s in the garage.”

Sean didn’t see another vehicle. He pointed toward the sedan. “Who owns that car?”

“Tanner.”

If Glenn’s vehicle was in the garage, where was the gunmen’s car? How did they get to the inn? Was there another man with a vehicle?

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“Their car.”

“They were really wet and cold. Maybe they don’t have one.”

Or maybe their vehicle broke down. Would a cop spot it on the roadside? Probably not. There weren’t many random or routing patrols in this area. The inn was too remote.

Something moved in the kitchen window. They were definitely watching. He couldn’t get to his SUV without being seen. Somehow, he’d need to get inside the inn and overpower three armed men without getting the hostages killed in the process.

He needed a look inside the house. With no access to his binoculars and weapons, he was going to have to wing it with two bullets and no eyes.

The squeak of wet hinges floated on the air. Sean froze. Instinctively, he pushed Mia behind him.

Someone was coming out of the inn.





Amanda worked her hands back and forth. The thin skin over her wrists felt wet as if she was beginning to bleed. Maybe if the string was wet, it would be easier to stretch. So far, the twine hadn’t given even a millimeter.

The back door opened with enough force to send the knob crashing into the wall.

She startled, her heart jumping inside her chest.

“Hey, Carl.” Win stuck his head inside. “Come out here for a minute.”

Carl walked out onto the back porch. With one eye on the kitchen, he talked with Lincoln and Win. Amanda couldn’t hear their conversation, but it seemed as if they were arguing. Win was pointing toward the woods, and Carl’s frown deepened. Lincoln swept his hands over his bald head as he paced. Frigid air poured through the open door, and Amanda’s bones quaked in a violent, whole-body shiver.

“Tanner.” The redhead cupped her husband’s cheek, leaving streaks of blood on his ever-whitening face. “Oh my God,” she cried in a soft voice. “He’s so white. He’s barely breathing, and there’s so much blood.”

“Keep pressure on that towel,” Amanda whispered, but the redhead was right. Tanner’s condition had definitely deteriorated. How long could he survive without medical help?

“He’s going to die.” The redhead looked up at Amanda with lost, hopeless eyes, one hand automatically straying to her swollen belly. Her body trembled hard in her nightie, the chill and despair clearly sapping her strength. “We don’t have a chance. We’re all going to die.”

Amanda glanced toward the door. The men were still arguing outside. The girl needed hope. She needed to stay calm. Hysteria could spark anger from the gunmen. Win was especially cruel and volatile, but Amanda could sense equally dangerous cold disregard from the others. Whatever decisions they made would be based on their own chances for escape and survival.

“No, listen.” Amanda dropped her voice to barely more than a breath. “My husband is out there. He was an army Ranger. He can help us. I promise.”

Hope glimmered in the redhead’s watery blue eyes. “Really?”