Her Mistletoe Protector
“Get down,” Nick urged.
Someone was shooting at them! She instinctively dropped low, ducking behind a tree while covering Joey’s body with hers, protecting him the best she could.
They waited motionless for what seemed like an hour but was likely only a few minutes. There was no further gunfire and she wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad.
Was the kidnapper tracking them through the woods right now?
“We need to split up,” Nick whispered, his mouth close to her ear.
“No! We need to stick together!” she whispered back.
“Listen to me.” Nick’s tone was harsh. “We need to get help. You and Joey are going to take my phone and head southeast. When you’re far enough away, call 911.”
“I don’t even know where we are,” she murmured anxiously.
“The address here is 472 and Highway MM.”
She silently repeated it to herself, committing the address to memory.
“I’m going to draw the gunman away from you and Joey. So you need to get moving, now.”
“I still think you should come with us,” she whispered again. She couldn’t help remembering the last time she’d tried to save her son by sending him out of the mangled wreck of their car only to watch him be captured and kidnapped. What if the same thing happened to Nick?
“Go!” he said, and he turned and fired in the direction from which the gunshot had originated. “I’ll hold him off long enough for help to arrive.”
She hesitated, torn between two impossible choices. She desperately wanted to get Joey to safety, but she also didn’t want to leave Nick, unable to bear the thought of anything happening to him. Yet she knew her son was depending on her so she did as Nick asked, staying low and easing back into the cover of the trees, keeping Joey close to her side.
Joey must have understood the acute need for silence since he didn’t say a word as they made their way through a particularly thick grove. When they’d gone about twenty yards, she crouched behind a large tree and took out Nick’s phone. She unzipped her coat, using the edges of her jacket to help hide the unmistakable glow of the phone screen as she called 911. The operator seemed to take forever to answer, and when she finally did, she hoped she remembered everything correctly.
“Please send help,” Rachel said urgently. “Someone is shooting at us and he’s also started a fire. The address is 472 and Highway MM.”
“Are you hurt?” the dispatcher asked.
“Not yet, but please hurry!” There was another loud crack followed by a cry of pain and she instinctively clutched Joey close, using her body as a shield to cover her son’s.
Even though she’d dropped the phone, she could still hear the dispatcher’s voice talking. She frantically searched the ground with her fingertips. The snow was cold, making her fingers numb, but she eventually found the phone and powered it off.
“Are you all right?” she asked Joey softly, fearing that the kidnapper had seen them despite her efforts to keep the screen hidden from view. “He didn’t hit you, did he?”
“No, I’m not hurt,” Joey whispered. “I’m scared.”
Her heart ached for him. “I know, but remember what Nick taught us? God is watching over us. God will keep us safe.”
Joey nodded solemnly. “I’m going to keep praying.”
Tears pricked her eyes. “Me, too.” She gave her son a quick hug and then glanced back over her shoulder searching for Nick. Panic swelled in the back of her throat when she couldn’t see him. What if he’d been hit? The orange glow from the fire was brighter, indicating that it was beginning to spread.
Dear Lord, please keep Nick safe! Please keep us all safe!
“I smell the bad man,” Joey whimpered.
Since all she could smell was smoke, she didn’t necessarily believe him. But at that moment, a bright spotlight illuminated the woods, blinding her. The light was only forty feet away! She shoved Joey behind her and tried to edge closer behind an evergreen tree.
“Stay right where you are, Rachel!” a voice shouted. “If you move, I’ll keep shooting.”
She froze at the familiar voice. Gerry? Abruptly, all the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Gerry Ashton always wore strong aftershave, very similar to the kind Joey had spilled in the cabin. And now she clearly recognized his voice.
Her mind wrestled helplessly with the truth. The man she’d trusted more than anyone else in the company had been the one who’d hired Morales to kidnap Joey. Had Gerry also kept her son locked up in his basement? The thought made her furious. To think she’d played right into his hands by begging him to buy her shares of the company. Had he sent the letters, too, pretending to be part of the Mafia?