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Authors: Joleen James

Hostage Heart (2 page)

BOOK: Hostage Heart
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His eyes bore into hers and she saw no mercy there. Would he kill her now?

"Let me go," she pleaded.

He yanked her over to the drawer, removing the other knives. The cheese grater hit the countertop with a thunk. "Cook." He let go of her wrist. "Now."

Kristi did as he asked, putting the meal together. When the food was ready, he shoveled in the mac and cheese, barely pausing to chew and she wondered when he’d last eaten.

"Aren’t you going to eat?" he asked with a nod toward her uneaten meal.

She pressed a hand to her stomach. "I can’t."

"Suit yourself." He reached for her bowl, polishing off her portion.

Kristi couldn’t take her eyes off the blood staining his shirt. Was it her imagination, or did the stain appear redder, wet? Had their scuffle opened his wound? "You’re bleeding."

"So?" He set his fork down, his attention on her now.

"You need medical help."

"Are you a doctor?" he asked.

"Computer programmer."

He gave her a wry smile. "Fun job."

She frowned. His sarcastic tone mirrored her own feelings about her chosen career.

"What do you do?" she asked. "Let me guess. Bank robber?"

He smiled again. "Don’t you watch the news?"

"Not lately," she said. "Been too busy. Why, are you on television?"

"I killed a man," he said. "And it wasn’t self-defense."

She had trouble swallowing past the lump in her throat. "Why did you kill him?"

"I couldn’t let him walk, not after what he did," he said simply.

"What did he do?"

"Plenty." He stood, moving to the couch. He stretched out, the gun still in his hand. He patted his flat stomach. "You’re a good cook."

"Food is my passion."

"Yeah?" He gave her a quizzical look. "Why aren’t you a chef instead of a computer programmer?"

"Good question." She didn’t know what she was supposed to do now. The dishes? The thought struck her as funny and she smiled.

"What?" he asked. "If there’s some humor in this situation, I’d love to hear it. I could use a good laugh about now."

"Nothing, it just seems weird to talk about normal things while you’re holding a gun on me."

"Lady, nothing about this is normal."

"What’s your name?" she asked.

He stared at her so long she figured he wouldn’t answer, then he said, "James."

"How long are you going to keep me here, James?"

"As soon as I have a plan, you’ll be the first to know."

"Do you intend to bleed to death?" she asked, unable to help herself.

"Maybe. Might be the easy way out."

She didn’t know what to say to that. "Do you have a family, James? Are they worried about you?"

He scowled. "I have a son. He’s thirteen. Lives with his mother in Arizona."

"What about him? Don’t you want to live for him?"

"I don’t know him," James said. "Not really. I wanted to, but it was easier to let his mother control things. I was a rotten father and a worse husband."

"Oh, one of those." She glanced away, out the window. The sun had set, the sky now soft with purple twilight.

"Had one of those, a rotten ex?" He gave her his full attention.

"Yep. Got the final divorce papers today." She laughed, the sound brittle. "That’s why I’m here, to regroup, to figure out the rest of my life."

"Figured it out yet?" He smiled, but she could see the strain on his face.

His injury was taking a toll. She wondered if he’d pass out soon, allowing her time to escape. Hope began to beat within her.

"No," she said. "Basically, I hate my life. I thought things would be different, that I’d have kids, be a mom."

"What happened?" he asked, his eyes on her.

"Infertility, a dirty word," she said. "Too many disappointments and not enough celebrations."

"I know how that feels." He gave her a weak smile, but his eyes remained sad.

"Who did you kill, James?" she asked, more to keep him talking then because she wanted to know the truth.

"His name was Thomas Hill," he said.

"Thomas Hill?" she repeated. "He’s been all over the papers. He's accused of murdering all those boys. Brutal murders."

James looked away from her. "Accused is the word here. Nothing was ever proven, but I knew he was guilty. We all did. Hill was going to walk. I couldn’t let him walk, free, to hurt someone else."

"Wait, wasn’t there an eyewitness?" she asked. There’d been no DNA to match, she remembered that much. Hill had been clever, leaving behind nothing to link him to his victims. But at the end of his killing spree, he’d become careless. One of the boys had escaped.

"Not anymore."

"Not anymore?" she repeated, fearing the worst.

"The boy, Mason Benson, he couldn't take the shame, the hurt. They found his body this morning."

"Oh, no," she said. "I don’t understand. How?"

"Mason was going to testify today," James said, the words broken and filled with sorrow. "He didn’t show up for court. When we went looking for him, we found his body. He'd hung himself from the branch next to his tree house. He was fourteen years old. One year older than my son. He hung himself-" James broke off, clearly too upset to talk.

"That's terrible, tragic." Kristi’s heart broke both for the man she’d wanted to knife just minutes ago and a boy so filled with despair he hadn’t wanted to live.

"I was there when they found him. When his mother saw him." James stared straight at her. "I’ve never heard a sound like that come from a human being. I can’t get the sound she made out of my head. I still hear her, even now."

No matter what James had done, his anguish was real, cutting deep into Kristi’s soul. "All things fade, James. Time will blur your memory of her."

"I don’t want my memory blurred." He frowned. "I want to remember every twisted, sick thing Hill did."

"He can’t hurt anyone, anymore," she reminded him. "You need help, James, a professional who can help you sort through what’s happened."

"Are you trying to counsel me?" He smirked. "Lady, it’s too late for me, don’t you get it?"

"It’s never too late."

"For me, there’s no going back. My life as I knew it, is over."

She had to agree he was probably right. No matter that Hill’s crimes were atrocious; James wasn’t justified in taking the man’s life. No one had the right to play God.

"How did you get injured?" she asked, steering the topic away from Hill and the boy who’d died today.

"My own partner shot me." He blew out a breath. "He was trying to stop me from shooting Hill. My partner's a coward. Should have killed me. Would have made it easier for all of us."

"Your partner?" Suddenly everything he'd told her made sense. Thomas Hill had been his case. "You're a cop?"

"I was." He shook his head. "I’m pretty sure I’ve been fired."

"Wow." Surprise filled her. She hadn’t seen this coming. James was a man who’d taken an oath to protect and serve. She couldn’t begin to imagine the depth of his hatred for Thomas Hill. James knew better than most what Thomas Hill was capable of. Now, she understood James’s anger, his need to protect other boys from suffering the same fate.

"There’s no good ending for me," he said. "I snapped. I killed a man. My career is over. Do you know what they do to cops in prison? I do, and I still chose to shoot Hill."

She watched him, not sure what to say. He didn’t need a lecture on taking a man’s life. His misery was written all over his face. Did he want to die? Maybe, but right now she wasn’t willing to let him go. Something about him had touched her heart, her soul. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cared that deeply about anything or anyone. For years she’d been dead inside. No wonder her husband had left her. He’d been married to a living corpse, a shell of a woman. Funny she could see that now and in some ways an odd peace tumbled through her.

"Let me look at your wound," she said. “You’re bleeding again."

His eyes narrowed. "So?"

"There has to be another way," she said. "You don’t see it now, but your son needs you. You could plead insanity. If I were on the jury, I’d be sympathetic to you. I’m sure others would, too. Hill was a monster."

"I’m not going to find out," James said. "I’m not going back. I just need to hide out for a few days, get my strength up. Then I’m going to hop on my Harley and ride outta here."

So he didn’t want to die. He had a plan. "Where will you go?"

"Mexico? Hell, I don’t know." He closed his eyes. His jaw tightened as if he were working through pain. "Maybe I’ll get a job bartending in a resort bar on an exotic beach. Warm tropical air. Beautiful women in bikinis. A simple life, surrounded by people who just want to have a good time. Sounds damn good right now."

"That does sound good," she said. "We all need to escape from life from time to time."

"Yeah."

"Please, let me check your wound," Kristi said again. "If I don’t you may not make it to Mexico."

"Why do you want to help me?" he asked. "I’m holding a gun on you."

"I don’t know," she admitted, not sure she understood her own reasons. "I keep thinking about your son and how all of this is so unfair to him. You have what I want most, a child. Squandering the parent-child bond goes against everything I believe in. Let me help you for your son’s sake."

His brow furrowed. "Fine. Suit yourself."

Kristi dragged her chair over beside the couch. She unbuttoned his shirt, moving the fabric aside. He’d covered the wound. She removed the blood soaked bandage. An angry skid mark marred his flesh, but it didn’t appear that the bullet had gone inside him. To Kristi, this looked like a flesh wound, not a life threatening injury.

"See? It’s just a scratch," he said.

"I'd say your partner is a good shot," Kristi said. "He gave you a warning, not a life-threatening injury. You’re lucky. I still believe you need a doctor, but you're right; this wound will heal."

"No doctor. Just slap another bandage on me and call it good."

"I need the first aid kit," she said. "May I get it?"

"No tricks."

"I promise." Kristi retrieved the kit from medicine cabinet. Her supplies were limited. She cleaned the wound with hydrogen peroxide before slathering the area with antibiotic ointment. She touched him gently, noting the sharp intake of his breath when her fingers grazed his stomach. Then, using rolled gauze, she bound him up tight, hoping that the pressure would stop the bleeding for good.

Finished now, she sat back in her chair and found his eyes on her, his stare probing, intense.

He placed his hand over hers. "Why are you helping me? I could be lying to you to gain your sympathy. Have you ever seen a photo of Thomas Hill? We share a lot of the same characteristics. What if I’m not who I say I am?"

BOOK: Hostage Heart
4.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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