Desert Ice Daddy by Marton, Dana (best motivational novels .txt) 📗

The winding path snaked across Hell’s Porch, doubling back now and then, going in loops from time to time, probably cut by four-wheelers that were popular in the area. Ten o’clock rolled around, the heat outside oppressive enough to necessitate air-conditioning in the car by the time the phone rang again.

Taylor seemed to be whispering a short prayer before picking up. She listened then tucked the phone into her jean pocket.

“Stop the car and get out. You’re going to walk the rest of the way. Bring the money. If I see a single cop or a single weapon, the boy is dead.” She was about vibrating with nerves. “That’s all he said.”

“Breathe.”

She nodded and drew her lungs full of air. “I’m so nervous, my ears are ringing.”

“You’ll be fine. It’s almost over.” He pulled off the road, got out and strode to the back, silently cursing this latest demand. He grabbed the two briefcases that held the money. They weren’t going to be able to take anything else.

She was standing in front of the car by the time he walked back up there. He stopped in front of her, saw the desperation in her eyes and put the briefcases down to pull her to him, his intention of providing a distant sort of friendly assistance be damned.

She came willingly into his arms.

“Hey,” he said into her hair that smelled like green apple shampoo. “Almost there.”

He held her as long as she let him—a few seconds, tops; she was too nervous to stand still—then they walked down the dusty road together. Must have walked a full mile, each lost in their own thoughts, before they came to an area where boulders dotted the landscape, decreasing visibility, providing a good hiding place for anyone who was waiting for them. He scanned each rock and wasn’t surprised when a red pickup rolled out into the open from behind one of them.

The car stopped, facing them. Two men, wearing masks, sat up front. He didn’t see Christopher.

The man next to the driver got out and aimed his gun at Akeem. “Put the money down.”

He gave the briefcase that was in his right hand to Taylor instead. He wanted to keep his gun hand free. Despite their demands to come unarmed, he hadn’t thought walking into a situation like this without a single weapon would be a good idea.

“Let us see the boy first,” he called back.

After a stare-off that lasted a full minute, the man finally nodded and called over his shoulder, “Show him the brat.”

Another minute passed before a rail-thin man stepped forward from behind a boulder on the other side of the road, holding Christopher by the shoulders in front of him.

“Mom?” Christopher’s face was smudged with dirt.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m here,” Taylor said, then whispered, “That’s Jake,” to Akeem, moving that way already.

“Not yet. Stay there.”

She glanced back at him, confusion and anxiety on her face, but stopped.

“You—” The first guy indicated Akeem with his gun. “Stay where you are.” Then he indicated Taylor. “You bring the money to me and you can have the kid.”

Akeem hesitated, hating the whole setup. Another man appeared from behind another boulder, gun drawn and pointed at him. And he figured they must have more, at least one more, their ace in the hole.

The men were looking at each other, eyes darting in silent communication. Akeem watched them carefully, not liking the mood in the air. Something was up, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. And he had little leverage to bargain for time or anything else, as he was overwhelmingly outgunned, with Taylor and Christopher now smack in the middle of the crossfire should anything happen.

He needed a moment to assess and think, try to figure out what the men were playing for. But Taylor didn’t seem willing to wait any longer. She stepped back and grabbed the second briefcase from him before he could say anything, and was already moving forward again.

“Go slowly,” he called after her, keeping his voice low enough so the men wouldn’t hear what he said. “If anything goes wrong, just hit the ground. Use the briefcases for cover.” Then, because she looked like she needed to hear it, he added, “In a few minutes, you’ll have Christopher.”

But, in fact, that was not what happened.

The rumble of choppers drifted in from the distance, freezing everyone to their spots as they scanned the sky. The sound intensified, came nearer, and within a minute two police helicopters were swooping in, filling the air with dust when they dipped low.

And all hell broke loose on the ground.

Chapter Four

Akeem dived for Taylor, brought her to the ground, propped the metal-sided suitcases in front of them as bullets filled the air. Then had to get right on top of her to keep her there, since she was determined to get away from him and go for Christopher through all the hellish chaos.

Since some of the kidnappers had rifles and opened fire on the choppers, the cops had no choice but to shoot back.

“Stay down!” He had to shout to be heard over the choppers and the gunfire. “He’s going to need you alive.”

But instincts overtook common sense and any logic he could have used on her. She clawed at him. “Let me go!” Wild dogs couldn’t have kept her from her son.

But he had to, in order to keep her alive. Her lithe body writhed under him, but she wasn’t looking at him; her eyes were on her boy. Keeping her restrained took both hands, so he couldn’t go for his weapon. Which might have saved them. The kidnappers were focused on firing at the choppers and paid scant attention to the two of them, neither of whom they considered an immediate danger.

“They aren’t going to hurt the boy as long as we have the money. We need to get out of here,” he said directly in her ear.