Summer's Night (7 page)

Summer pulled back, panting for breath. "Wow."

His lips tilted upward. "Just the beginning, Yazhi."

Her head tilted. "Yazhi? What does that mean?"

"Little one." Night cradled her cheeks between his large hands, tilting her chin up for another meeting with his mouth.

This kiss rose like the tides of the ocean, swells and lulls, until both of them clung to one another as an anchor in the newly discovered depths of feeling.

A cold nose to his groin yanked Night back to reality. Glancing down, he found Murphy prying herself between them, her face planted in his groin.

Summer looked down as well, giggling at her dog. "She's jealous."

He shook his head, struggling to subdue the raging libido that one kiss prompted. Probably wasn't a bad thing they were interrupted as he'd lost all track of time, boundaries, and his intent to move things along slowly so as not to overwhelm her and potentially throw a monkey wrench in their budding relationship. Taking a few deep breaths, he watched Summer pet the large fluffy animal, unable to wipe the smile from his face as he spied her decidedly pink cheeks. Good to know she was just as affected as he.

"I better get going, anyway. Mother will be wondering where I've gotten off to."

"Oh. Okay." She looked up at him with a sultry expression that nearly had him wrapping her up in his arms and plundering that delicious mouth of hers once more.

Steeling himself, he stepped back, hoping distance would cool down his ardor.

She blinked, then spun back to the table. "Take the remainder of the chili with you. She won't have to cook." As she spoke, she plucked the lid off the stove, setting it on top of the large round pan. "It's still hot, so take some pot holders, too." Yanking a couple out of a drawer, she wrapped them around the handle, making sure to keep the large one on the underside of the metal.

Night easily accepted the burden, placing his hand under the large pad. "Thanks. I'm sure she'll love it."

Summer herded him to the front door, opening it wide until he passed through. She followed along, tugging the passenger door of his truck open so he could set the hot pan in the floorboard.

He stood up, peering into Summer's round face, noting her slightly swollen lips. Unable to resist, he covered his mouth over hers once more, this time a sweet, chaste kiss that ended before either of them could get carried away. "Thanks for the food."

"Thanks for all the help. And for…" She waved her hand encompassing the whole area. "For everything." She grinned up at him. "Perhaps we can… do something… soon?"

"I would like that."

Her toes kicked at the dirt. "Night?"

"Hmm?"

"I… I… really like you."

His heart fluttered with her declaration and a wide grin crossed his face. "Ditto." She appeared to sigh in relief, her stained cheeks brightening as she met his gaze. The coloring only added to her beauty. As much as he wanted to kiss her senseless, he held himself in check. They needed time and patience to learn one another. Good thing he possessed more than his fair share of patience, even if it meant more cold showers in his near future. Summer was worth it.

He strode around the truck, climbed in, and drove off with a crisp wave.

Already his mind worked on excuses to visit her again, have more time to chat with her, tease her, and pursue their physical attraction for one another.

Chapter 10

Gary knocked on the door to a modest house complete with tan siding.

He'd spent the night on the computer searching for Felina Kensington before finally making a hit. As soon as the rental car agency opened, he stood at their door, getting a car for a small road trip. That placed him at the old woman's doorstep firmly at nine am.

A young blonde woman with blue eyes opened the door, a squalling baby perched on her hip. "Can I help you?"

He blinked, looking up to double check the address. Verifying the numbers, he focused on the woman.
What in the hell?
He expected an old woman, not a young trick complete with screaming kid. "I'm looking for Felina Kensington."

"She moved out a year ago. I bought the house from her."

His lungs seized in near panic. He'd spent the past precious twenty-four hours of his three days searching for this woman only to come to a dead end. If he didn't get his hands on a lot of money soon, he'd end up floating face down in a river. A sudden idea struck. "Can you tell me where she moved to?"

She looked up at him, indecision apparent in her face. She bounced the baby a couple of times, the motion doing nothing to stop the crying.

Frantically, he searched for a logical reason to sway the girl into confessing what she knew. He lowered his voice to an appropriate solemn level and gave her a sad smile. "I really need to find her. You see, it's her ex-husband. He's on his deathbed and is asking for her. He wants to make amends before he passes."

She hesitated a moment longer before apparently making a decision. "She moved in with her son. They live in Crossroads."

"Thank you. I know she'll appreciate your assistance."

The woman shut the door as he spun and returned to his car. Crossroads. Luckily, it wasn't far and this time there would be no surprises. He would ensure it.

Chapter 11

A loud clang drew Summer's attention, almost like someone knocked something off a dresser in one of the bedrooms. Her gaze met Mrs Kensington's, wide open with surprise. "What was that?" Summer had arrived early that morning to start therapy as they were extending their session to include more walking and stairs.

The older woman shook her head. "I don't know."

"Night?"

"No. He's away this morning on business. It's just us."

Summer's heart picked up its pace, her breathing escalated as a tremor of fear sliced through her body. With no reasonable excuse for what they heard, she worried it meant trouble. Big trouble.

Setting the walker in front of her patient, Summer leaned over the sitting woman, patting her knee. "I'll just go check it out."

"I'm not sure. Maybe you should stay here." Worry laced Mrs Kensington's tone.

"Do what she says."

Summer stood upright, searching for the source of the hard male voice. A moment later she spied him, a lanky, blond man, just a few inches taller than her. Dark brown eyes wavered and shifted skittishly, as if he struggled with maintaining a firm setting on reality. Combined with his pinched face, thin lips, narrow nose, and jerky movements, his entire body shouted desperate and unbalanced.

Mrs Kensington gasped, her hands shaking as she clutched her chest. "Get out of here."

The man stalked forward slowly. "Not until I get what I want."

Summer stood still, sizing the man up, attempting to kick her mulish brain into gear. "What is it you want?"

"Your husband said he gave you jewelry and other gifts, valuable ones. A gold nugget and diamond necklace among other things. Give me those and no one will get hurt." He pulled a gun from behind his back, leveling it at the two women, backing up his menacing threat. "Stupid drunk told me all about you and your riches at the bar. Your loss. My gain."

"But… I…" Mrs Kensington stammered, panic written on her face.

"Tell me where they are!" He stepped closer, growling at the sitting woman.

"I don't know!" Tears began to form in the older woman's eyes.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" His attention flicked to Summer for a moment before snapping back.

Summer furiously scanned the room, searching for a distraction, a weapon, anything to defuse the intensifying situation. Finding nothing, she stuck by her patient's side, trying to offer as much support and protection as possible.

"My son. He stored them somewhere. Safe deposit box or something. Didn't want to leave them around the house." She managed to get out between pants.

"Take deep breaths, Mrs Kensington." Summer advised, concerned with the woman's physical distress. If she experienced a heart attack on the spot, things were going to get a lot worse.

"Where?" He demanded, reaching out to grab her arm, giving it a hard shake.

"I don't know!" Mrs Kensington covered her face as tears began to flow in earnest, great sobs wracking her small frame.

The man cussed a blue streak, gesturing wildly in agitation.

Summer leveled a glare at the man. Perhaps he would listen to reason. Anything was worth a try at the moment. "Stop it. She doesn't know and you're going to make her have a heart attack. If that happens, you won't get anything you came for."

He calmed marginally, brows furrowed in apparent concentration. "Fine. I'll take her with me. She can call her son. He gets the goods and I'll return her."

Summer gasped at this new plan. Breaking and entering, even robbery, seemed preferable to kidnapping. How many times did the victim survive? What emotional tolls did they live with for the rest of their existence if they did?

She glanced over to Mrs Kensington, who sat with her face buried in her hands, overcome with fear. Though strong and able for her age, the chances of the woman surviving being taken from her home by force and carted around the country until rescue arrived would be slim. Already, Summer worried she would work herself into cardiac arrest or a stroke. If that happened in the man's care, he would shuck her along the road and go on his merry way.

She couldn't allow that to happen. Summoning her failing courage, she lifted her chin.

"Take me, instead." Summer heard a gasp from her right but plunged ahead. "She just had knee surgery. Not only will she slow you down to a snail's crawl, she'll be easily remembered. Everyone who sees a little old woman with a walker will open the door, offer to help her, and remember that they did. I'm your best option." She pleaded her case, begging for him to leave her patient at home.

He seemed to ponder the idea for a moment before making a decision. "Okay. You come with me. But no monkey business." Pointing a finger, he warned Mrs Kensington, "Call your son now. Tell him he has eight hours to come up with the goods I want or I will kill her."

"No. Leave her out of it. She has nothing to do with this." Mrs Kensington railed at the man, her face growing red with exertion.

The man's gaze locked on the older lady. "You must care for her or you would have let me take her without a peep. You'll make sure your son will trade for her."

Summer bit her lip, trying to keep her wits. "It's a bank holiday. They won't reopen until tomorrow morning at eight am. He'll be unable to access the safe deposit box until then."

The man's face clenched in obvious rage. "Twenty-four hours, but not a minute more!"

Winning that minor battle, Summer thought about her animals. Looking at the older woman, she implored, "Please, call my neighbor, Masie. Tell her there's been an emergency and I need her to look after my animals for… for…" She clamped her mouth shut, uncertain how long this nightmare would last. "Here is her number." Hastily jotting down two numbers on a slip of paper, she thrust it in Mrs Kensington's hands.

The older woman looked up to her, trails of tears running down her dark cheeks. "I will. And, I'll call Colton…"

The man grabbed Summer's upper arm tightly, dragging her toward the door. "Now, lady. Or she dies. I'll call you in twenty-four hours to set up the exchange. If he gets those things, I'll trade for her. If not…" He grinned wickedly, putting the gun against Summer's head.

Not waiting for an answer, he tightened his grip on her arm, placing enough pressure to bruise, and pulled her to the front door.

Summer protected her side, the one where her oversized scrub top covered the cell phone holder and cell phone. Maybe they could track her through the GPS on her phone. If they thought of it. It was why she wrote her cell phone number on the paper along with Masie's. Thankfully, she'd charged it fully the night before. A good thing since at the moment it appeared to be the only way to find her before the deadline arrived.

He glanced back at the house once more then shoved Summer in front of him, keeping a firm grip on her. Together they headed toward a newer model sedan, Summer struggling all the way.

"Don't even think about it," he ordered.

"About what?" She drug her feet a bit more, anything to slow him down and allow an opening for her escape.

"Fighting. Trying to escape." He jerked hard on her arm. "Even if you manage to get away, I'll just go back in that house and drag that old woman along. She may be slow, but she won't escape and I have no reason to keep her alive if she gives me problems." His beady eyes bored into hers.

Summer shuddered at the message, her dilemma sinking in. If she escaped, he would march back into the house, grab Mrs Kensington, and take her hostage, a situation the older woman might not survive. If she went along with the maniac, Mrs Kensington would be safe. She could call Night, and line up the cavalry for a rescue.

She hoped.

With a long sigh, she stopped resisting, obediently climbing into the car as instructed, her heart pounding and sinking at the same time. Terror flowed through her veins as she contemplated what the future might bring.

Chapter 12

"What in the Hell do you mean 'she was kidnapped'?" Night growled into his phone, fear raging inside him. The thought that someone had broken into his house, threatened his mother, and driven off with Summer in tow sent his blood boiling. Nearly home when his mother called, he sped the remaining distance as if the hounds of Hell nipped at his heels.

Shoving his truck into park and cutting the engine, he ran for the front door, finding his mother sitting in her recliner, tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks. He drew her into his arms, holding her tight, whispering soothing words in Navajo.

"She offered herself in my place. He was going to take me until Summer pointed out how I would slow him down." She began to cry in earnest. A couple of minutes later, she regained her composure, sitting up straight. "I have to call her neighbor to care for her animals. She gave me a couple of numbers."

Night spied the paper on the table, grabbing it for a closer look. "Why two numbers?"

His mother blinked. "I don't know. That's just what she wrote down before he took her out of here."

The numbers both appeared to be cell numbers and from different base locations indicated by the dissimilar area codes. Pulling out his cell phone, he punched a button, impatiently waiting for his call to be answered. "Spoon. Condition Alpha. I need you to trace these phone numbers now." He rattled off both, tapping his toe as he waited. The answer gave him a semblance of hope. "GPS on the latter line?"

He looked over at his mother. "Tell me again what he said."

"He said he would call. You had twenty-four hours to get the jewelry, the gold nugget necklace, or he would kill her." Her last words tapered off as if it broke her heart to repeat them.

"You got that, Spoon? I'm at home. Hell, yes, I'm going to track that bastard. Rendezvous in two hours."

Slapping the phone closed, he kneeled down in front of his mother. "We'll get her back. I promise." Seeing her watery eyes full of worry, fear, and misery broke his heart. He wrapped her up in his arms and held her tight. She needed a distraction. "Can you call her neighbor? It's the first number."

His mother nodded. "It's the least I can do."

"Good. I need to get going."

"Bring her home, Hayaazh."

She rarely called him son in her native language these days. That she did so now, touched him and at the same time, gave him the ammunition needed to pursue the rabid son of a bitch that stole a woman under his protection. A woman adored by his mother and one he thought highly of himself.

He kissed her cheek, then moved to his bedroom, packing a large duffle bag with clothes and weapons, preparing for the arrival of his men.

* * * *

Promptly two hours later a black SUV entered Night's driveway. He jogged out to meet it, duffle bag in tow. Once he climbed into the passenger seat, he glanced at his team, all with concern written on their faces. As luck would have it, all the men lived fairly close, making the two-hour window doable.

"What do we know?" Dillon asked from the backseat, perched in the middle seat between his brother, Cale, and Spoon. Loco handled the driving. The farthest backseats had been put down in order to make room for their gear, allowing the men more legroom.

Night rambled off what few details his mother gave him, seething in fury at the fact his father had sold him and his mother out to an opportunistic thief turned kidnapper. Shock didn't describe his reaction when his mother said the intruder cited his drunken father as the primary culprit for endangering her life. He could only hope that was where the line remained. If this man tipped into murder, his body would never be found. His father would be dealt with later, after they returned Summer to her home.

Summer. The fact she'd traded her life for his mother's humbled him as nothing else had, even as it sent cold fingers lancing through his gut. He dared not think about the possibilities and what she suffered even as they planned. No. He shoved all emotional distractions to the back burner narrowing his focus on the task at hand, just like he'd learned in the military. You can't go into battle hyped up on panic and fear. Cool heads won the day. Rescue Summer. She was all that mattered.

When did she become so important to him? Somehow in the few days since she'd entered his life, she'd snuck into a corner of his heart, made herself at home, as if planning on living there for a lifetime. Why was it only now, when some bastard stole her away, that he realized her meaning to him?

"I want her back now. No way is that son of a bitch getting twenty-four hours with her," he growled the words out between clenched teeth.

The other men exchanged a look.

"No worries. I've got a strong beacon on her GPS. If we push the speed, we'll be right on their tails soon," Spoon said, his fingers flying over a laptop keyboard.

"What's the plan? Wait for him to go to ground? Try to take him while on the road?" Cale asked, his blue eyes meeting Night's.

Scenarios raced through Night's head. He automatically sorted them, discarding the worst, logging the most likely to have a positive outcome in a priority position. "We need to have plans in place for both options."

"Do you think he'll be suicidal if cornered, especially in a car?"

He replayed his mother's words, not finding any indication either way. "I don't know. He's desperate for money, I know that. Anyone who would listen to a drunk man in a bar, then go on a wild goose chase in the hopes of stealing jewelry, is damn desperate. Who knows what he might do when cornered. Let's hope we don't find out."

"We have authorization on this?" Dillon asked, shifting his wide shoulders uncomfortably in the limited space afforded him between two other equally large men.

Night's jaw ticked. "I called. My contact isn't happy that we didn't call in the local authorities and the feds, but he won't stand in the way."

"He knows better, huh?" Loco grinned at him.

"We're the best chance she has." His soft tone dared anyone to disagree with the absolute surety in his words. He understood the fact to be true, just as the other men would. Too many times federal government officials and local police sat on a kidnapping case, hoping to talk the criminal out, exchanging promises for the release of victims, only for one or more of the innocents to end up injured or dead.

His team, the Wind Warriors, specialized in many areas from their years of high-level military careers. He personally went through several months of intense training in not only reconnaissance, but also the tactics of rescue. The others all had similar instruction and real life exercises, making them well versed in not only what they were truly dealing with, but more than capable of stealthily moving in, separating the victim from the target, and ending the standoff quickly and successfully. If only other groups could plow through proper protocol and justice concerns like they did. A luxury, one that benefited them greatly in this situation.

"How is your mother taking it?" Spoon asked before directing Loco to take the next turn.

Night shrugged. "As well as she can, I think. She called a friend to come sit with her so she wouldn't be alone. I jacked up security, just in case. Not even a mouse should be able to get into that house without everyone, including the Marines, getting a red alarm."

"Your mother scares me." Cale commented, his gaze constantly watching the road and other cars around them.

Dillon, his brother, cocked an eyebrow at him. "Huh?"

Cale grinned. "You haven't met her. That is one warrior woman if I ever met one. Give her a bow and arrow, put her on a galloping horse, stick a few feathers in her hair, and I guarantee she'll do more than count coup."

Night snorted, his tension lessening for the moment with the byplay. "Wrong tribe, Cale. You're thinking Plains Indians. She's Navajo. Not so much nomadic buffalo hunters as much as stay at home farmers."

"Maybe she was born to the wrong tribe, then. She has more balls than most men." Cale shrugged.

"What would you expect from the daughter of a Navajo Code Talker?" Spoon tossed out.

The brothers blinked, while Night grumbled. "I swear. None of you can keep a secret."

"Not one as good as that."

"Well that explains everything." Loco agreed.

"It does?"

"Yep. With that genetic makeup, Night had no choice but to inherit stalking skills, a straight aim, and a temper to rival an Irish man."

"What about his love of frog legs?" Spoon asked.

"There's no accounting for taste." Loco answered.

"He's stopped." Spoon announced, his eyes fixated on the computer screen.

"Destination?"

With great speed and precision, Spoon pounded on the keys, bringing up the information in quick fashion. "Motel. Just on this side of Clairmont."

"ETA?" Night spit out the words, the bantering forgotten.

"Twenty-five minutes."

"Shit." He ran his fingers through his unbound hair. As long as the perpetrator drove, Night felt he couldn't do much harm to Summer. Once he found a place to hole up and dragged her inside, all bets were off.

"Is Summer the kind of woman to run any chance she gets? Fight? Or simply follow orders?" Loco asked.

"She took my mother's place, snapped back at the man, and talked him into changing his plans. I think she will have the brains and courage to flee at the first opportunity or fight to defend herself." From everything he'd seen and heard about Summer, the analysis rang true. "Smart, too. Made sure she kept her phone on her and wrote down her phone number to make it easier for us to track."

"It's broad daylight. Set up surveillance, move in at dark?" Spoon looked up from his computer.

"No. We're moving in immediately. I'm not giving that bastard a chance to rape Summer, or worse, while we're biding our time." The very thought of that scenario sent cold chills surging down his spine. "One of us can flash a government ID at the desk clerk, find out which room he's in. We'll scope it out, fine tune the plan, then let the gates of Hell admit another soul."