Kitabı oku: «Rescue Me!»
She couldn’t take her eyes off this hero
That sexy, muscular, masculine body who’d come to her rescue. When Cody bent to reach for his jeans, she said just one word.
“Please…”
The word sounded loud in the quiet of the motel room. He looked at her, disbelieving. Puzzled. But also desiring her. He couldn’t hide it any more than she could.
Jen held out her hand. She was acting on pure instinct, wanting to reaffirm life in the most primal way possible. Her throat felt dry, constricted with both fear and excitement.
He moved toward her on the bed, his eyes wide, his growing arousal evident.
She wanted to take him into her arms and offer him peace. It would be pleasant. No…Pleasant couldn’t begin to describe her sexual feelings toward Cody.
I want you, she thought, as I’ve never wanted another man in my life. With a single touch she knew she would set something in motion. Something that was always meant to be. Destiny. Kismet.
This was more than just sex.
Dear Reader,
When I looked up the word hero in my dictionary, there were several meanings, among them a mythological or legendary figure of great strength and authority. A man admired for his achievements and qualities, or a chief male in literary and dramatic work. Or perhaps a hero is a person who does brave deeds, like the main character in a movie.
There are many definitions, but we all know a hero when we see one. Someone rises to the occasion and becomes the best person he or she can be. The New York City firemen who displayed extraordinary courage in the face of absolute disaster that day in September. A best friend who keeps others going through tough times and despair. Or someone who hopes, and acts, against impossible odds.
Cody Roberts, the hero in Rescue Me!, is such a person. Faced with deadly odds, he chose to act. And in so doing, he changed the lives of three people, himself included, forever. I loved writing his AMERICAN HEROES story, and I hope you will all enjoy reading it, as well.
All my best,
Elda Minger
Rescue Me!
Elda Minger
To Nancy Cochran.
You are a heroine in real life, and this story is for you.
I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
1
CODY ROBERTS HAD SUFFERED through worse hangovers, but he couldn’t remember when.
His mouth tasted like the inside of a sewer. His eyes were gritty. He had to get to his job by noon, show up and convince everyone he could still do it. And he’d never felt less like going to work in his life.
But he had no choice. Especially not with his reputation. People he worked with depended on him. And more than that, he wanted to be able to depend on himself again.
Even though Cody wasn’t drunk, he drove carefully along the Arizona road, watching out for other cars. He wasn’t so hungover that he was a danger to others. No, if he’d been that wasted, he wouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel of a car.
As low as he’d gotten various times in the last seven years, he’d never sink that low.
Fortified by a cup of black coffee from a convenience store a few miles back, Cody drained the last of the surprisingly good coffee and tossed the empty cup into the back of the rusty old blue van. With just a little more caffeine he’d be ready to head back to work.
Up ahead, just as the sun began to break over the horizon, he saw the familiar logo of another chain convenience store. Though desert sunrises were spectacularly beautiful, painting the skies with lavenders, pinks and golds, Cody didn’t allow himself the pleasure of enjoying nature’s gifts. He had a cup of coffee to get and a job to finish up this October morning—in that order.
JENNIFER WHITNEY STARED AT the front of the convenience store, wondering if she had enough energy to walk inside.
She’d been driving most of the night. Now, just east of Phoenix, off Interstate 10, she had to decide if she was going to take a detour on her way to Los Angeles by way of Sedona. She wanted to see those red rocks and energy vortexes and the Indian ruins and had planned on making this detour when she’d first started out.
But now she was wiped out. Perhaps the wisest thing to do would be to forget the coffee, find the nearest motel, check in and sleep for a good twelve hours. She needed to rest. More than that, she needed the sanctuary of a motel room in order to forget her problems. And they were considerable.
The need for coffee won out. She stretched, then grimaced as she heard all the little cricks and pops of her protesting body when she moved. Determined to get some coffee and hit the road again, Jen stepped out of the car and went into the store.
CUTE BUTT.
That was Cody’s first thought as he pulled into the convenience store parking lot. He eased the van to a stop on the far side of the parking lot, needing the little bit of a walk to stretch his legs and get some air.
The petite blonde had caught his eye the minute she’d walked into the store. He observed her through the glass, enjoying the view as she headed straight for the coffee.
Cute butt, he thought again. And a great car. The candy-apple-red Mustang sat in the parking lot, directly in front of the convenience store, the backseat piled high with boxes, blankets and what looked like a small table. He imagined that the trunk was crammed just as tightly.
She was moving. On the road.
He thought about talking to her, then realized he probably looked like the devil himself. After a long, lost weekend, he had a certain griminess about him, and certainly from the way his eyes were stinging and sensitive, they had to be bloodshot.
Hardly the best first impression to make on a lady.
And she was a lady. He’d registered that fact right away. The way she carried herself, the way she wore her clothing, even though she was dressed in jeans and a light pink sweater. He’d seen the slender gold bracelet flash on her arm in the early morning autumn sun.
For just an instant Cody wondered what a woman like that was doing alone on the road. Didn’t she have family to take care of her? A friend to drive with? The open road could be tough. Even dangerous. It wasn’t wise for a woman to travel alone, and she looked about as substantial as a cream puff.
Aw, so he looked like hell. He could at least go in, get that cup of coffee and wish that cutie a fine morning.
He smiled at that thought and reached for the door handle to the van. Cody was just about to step outside when a man, late twenties or very early thirties, dressed in ripped jeans, a black T-shirt and a jean jacket and boots, caught his eye. Long, stringy, dirty hair. Rounding the corner from behind the convenience store. He looked tired. Fed up.
And he was carrying a sawed-off shotgun.
JEN HAD JUST ADDED AN EXTRA packet of sugar to her coffee. Baby coffee, her friends in Chicago would have teased. She always liked to add a lot of milk, otherwise it tended to upset her stomach. She was sensitive to caffeine, so she knew that even with the small amount of coffee in the cup she’d get enough of a buzz to drive a little farther and find a room. Then finally she could crash.
She knew she must be really wiped because she was starting to have doubts about the wisdom of this entire trip. When she’d started out from Chicago, she’d been so confident that she was doing the right thing. But it got awfully lonely out on the road, and she’d had plenty of time since leaving home to question what she was doing.
She approached the counter, coffee in hand, eyeing the display of doughnuts nearby and wondering if she should go for broke and get one.
“Oh, go for it.”
She glanced up and smiled at the young man behind the counter. He had sandy brown hair, clear blue eyes and his face was sprinkled with freckles. Those eyes were amused as he gazed at her. He wore a faded gray sweatshirt and equally worn jeans.
She recognized a fellow optimist when she saw one. Still, he did seem awfully young to be in charge of the store.
“You’re the only one here?”
He seemed affronted, but in a kidding way. “Hey, Charlie couldn’t make it, so he asked me to cover for him.”
Well, that explained it. Jen couldn’t help smiling back at him. “How much are the dough—”
The front door exploded inward, and a man with long, greasy black hair yelled, “Get down, both of you! On the floor!”
And the nightmare began.
CODY HAD WATCHED AS THE MAN entered the convenience store. If there had ever been a sign from God for him to stop drinking, this was it. More than anything he wished he had a clearer head.
A girl with a gold bracelet and a kid behind a counter who looked as if he was barely out of high school—two people as good as dead unless he got in there and did something. He didn’t think scum like that would let either of them live, because then they’d be able to identify him.
Weighing his options, trying to come up with a plan to get everyone out alive, Cody stealthily moved across the parking lot.
“THE MONEY! HURRY UP!”
The cashier’s voice was shaking so badly, he could barely get the words out. “I can’t open the register, I can’t just—”
For one awful moment Jen thought the man was going to shoot the boy right where he stood.
“Ring up a bogus sale, asshole, before I blow your head off!”
Jen lay facedown on the floor. She’d dropped her coffee, flung it in a reflex reaction, and it had spilled all over the floor several feet away. She tried to breathe, tried to think, to remain calm. But it was so hard. Her heart was thundering in her chest; she could hear her blood pounding sickeningly in her ears. For a long, still moment, the longest moment, almost out of time, she had the strongest intuition she and this boy were going to die.
Right here. Right now.
Life over. Finished.
“Whoa, wait a minute.”
Everything within her stilled as the robber turned his attention toward her.
“Sit up and take off that bracelet. And keep those hands where I can see them.”
She sat up as slowly as she dared, hoping perhaps the young clerk could press a silent alarm button or something while he wasn’t being watched. But he didn’t have a chance. This man had done this sort of thing before, his dark eyes feverish as his glance darted back and forth between them.
He was drunk or high or both. And that was bad for the two of them, making this man all the more unpredictable.
“Take it off!”
She did.
“Throw it here.”
The oddest memory, considering her circumstances, surfaced. Her high school graduation and her father handing her the small, beautifully wrapped package. The happiness on his handsome face when she’d opened his present and he’d seen her joy.
She tossed the robber the bracelet carefully. She’d considered hurling it so he’d have trouble catching it, but she didn’t want to do anything to make matters even worse. This was real life, not some action movie.
“Nice.” The robber studied it briefly, then shoved it in his jean-jacket pocket. “Now the sweater.”
She felt nauseous as his meaning became clear.
“Hurry it up!” He glanced toward the clerk. “Get that money out, asshole!” Then back at her. “The sweater, babe. Now!”
Looking down the barrel of a loaded shotgun didn’t give her much of a choice or any sense of false modesty. Jen started to pull the pink cashmere sweater over her head. Slowly. Slowly. Thinking the entire time that she would rather die than have this man touch her.
CODY HAD TO MAKE SURE THIS guy was alone. That took a few minutes, but he hadn’t heard any gunshots yet, so he still had hope.
While he’d sneaked out in back of the convenience store, he’d formulated a plan.
Help me out here, okay? he prayed silently. At least let the two of them live. If this is the way you want my sorry ass to go, I accept it. But those two in there, they don’t deserve it—
Taking a deep breath, he kicked the front door open.
SHE’D JUST PULLED THE SWEATER over her head, still had her hands entangled in its sleeves, when she heard the noise.
Someone else—
“Hey, you!” the slurred, masculine voice said. “Whadda I have ta do ta get a cuppa—” He stumbled into the robber, causing him to turn.
Causing him to take the shotgun off her.
A drunk. Great.
Then the drunk moved so he was between her and the robber, then he turned, pretending to sneeze. His face angled so the robber couldn’t get a look at his expression, this crazy stranger gave her a look so full of fierce command, she almost shrank back. He inclined his head ever so slightly toward the counter, the movement miniscule.
And Jen realized he was no drunk.
The unspoken command in his eyes was unmistakable.
Get behind that counter. Now.
She did, crabbing back on her hands and knees, moving sideways over the slick linoleum floor, trying her best not to make any noise as the “drunk” continued to talk.
“Okay, okay! Hands up, I get it!” The stranger backed away from the robber, and Jen noticed he was doing an excellent job of keeping the man’s shotgun pointed toward his midsection—away from her and the young clerk. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Goddamn it, I said up! Up in the air, you bastard.”
What happened next went down so fast, she didn’t see all of it. The stranger moved so quickly, butting headlong into the robber and blessedly avoiding the shotgun. The gun flew up and fired, and chunks of the ceiling rained down, clattering against the linoleum. Jen got behind that counter in no time, and the young clerk threw himself down on top of her, covering her, then putting his hands over his ears, his wiry young body shaking as hard as hers was.
Then the sounds of fists.
One punch. A grunt. Two punches.
Then silence.
The clerk was crying, and Jen smoothed his short hair back from his face, offering comfort. She used her cashmere sweater, still tangled around her arms, to wipe his eyes. And hoped to God that their stranger was the one still standing.
She had the sobbing boy cradled against her as she looked up. The stranger leaned over the counter and smiled, his split lip bleeding.
“Guess I can’t ask him if he has any rope.”
“By the—by the car stuff, the oil and stuff,” the clerk gasped, then continued to cry. Jen’s eyes stung as she held him closer.
“Great. Be right back after I tie our friend up.”
She heard each decisive step as he strode across the store, paused, then walked back. Heard him unwinding rope. Then she almost started to cry herself as she pictured him tying up the man who had almost taken all of their lives.
“I’m okay,” the clerk gasped. “I’m okay.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’ve gotta call my boss.”
“Call the police first.”
The boy was in no shape to do anything. Gently disengaging herself, Jen stood up, reached for the phone behind the counter and dialed 911.
“Where are we?”
“Don’t worry,” the clerk said, then blew his nose. She recognized the signs of masculine embarrassment in his eyes. “The address will come up on their screen.”
He glanced up as the stranger approached and placed a large cup of black coffee on the counter, then selected two raspberry doughnuts from the display and put them in a waxed paper bag.
He set the bag next to the coffee and smiled wearily at them. “Just tell ‘em there’s been a robbery and their man is right here, all hog-tied and waiting for them.” He reached into his back jean pocket and took out his wallet.
“I really don’t think—” Jen began.
He threw down a ten-dollar bill. “That should cover the rope, the coffee and the doughnuts. How’s he doing?”
“Okay, but—”
He walked over to a display, plucked down a small, travel-sized packet of tissues, then leaned over the counter, making eye contact with the clerk on the floor.
“You did real good, son,” he said, handing him the tissues. “You didn’t lose your head.”
The boy simply nodded.
The stranger picked up his coffee and bag of doughnuts, then started toward the door.
“But—” Jen said. “The police are coming. Aren’t you going to stay and—”
He held up his hand. “I’ve got to go. People are depending on me.”
“But—”
He smiled, then grimaced in mild pain as the expression pulled his split lip taut. “Darlin’, I wish I could stay, but I can’t. You’d better get dressed—the police should be here shortly.”
Jen glanced down. Clad only in a delicate, lacy demibra, she might as well have been topless in front of him. But it didn’t bother her. Not now. She’d almost been killed.
“Wait!” She pulled her sweater over her head, flipping her long hair out of the neckline. “Wait! I don’t even know your name or how to thank you or—”
“You don’t want to know me,” he said and walked out the door.
2
REACTION SET IN AS CODY pulled out of the parking lot.
His hand—his right hand holding his coffee—started to shake. Setting the cup down in the van’s drink holder, he concentrated on driving. If the van lurched along at a slightly slower pace than was normal for this stretch of road, that was all right. The sun wasn’t very high in the sky and there wasn’t much traffic.
Two black-and-white police cars whizzed by, lights flashing, sirens screaming, racing toward the convenience store. Cody watched their progression in his rearview mirror, then turned his attention back to the desert road.
He couldn’t have stayed. The press would have had a field day. He could see the headline in the tabloids now: Washed Up Action Hero Makes a Real Rescue. Or worse. No, he wanted no part of it. He’d seen firsthand how the media destroyed people’s lives.
Hell, he’d been one of their supreme achievements.
He drove until he reached a shopping center, complete with grocery store, drugstore, dry cleaner, pet shop, a bagel shop, a health-food store and a Mexican restaurant. Feeling as if he were operating the van in slow motion, he guided it into the parking lot, where he chose a parking space on the far side of the stores. Turning off the ignition, he sat in the driver’s seat, staring ahead, seeing nothing.
Talk about a wake-up call. Today had been nothing short of a sharp smack to the side of his head.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, but finally he shook his head and reached for the bag of jelly doughnuts. He ate first one, then the other, then drank some of the strong, warm coffee. Just the ordinary feel of eating something, just the everyday smell of coffee, the taste of powdered sugar and raspberry jelly, was enough for him right now.
It comforted him.
Cody closed his eyes, then opened them quickly as he saw brief flashes of the robbery in his mind. Better to see what was actually out there. He focused his gaze on a cactus on the side of the parking lot and took a few deep breaths.
He’d been scared to death going into that store. But all he’d known was that he couldn’t let those two people inside die. Both of them so young and filled with promise. Both thinking they had all the time in the world when he knew that wasn’t true at all.
Older and wearier—but not necessarily wiser—he knew better than to take an optimistic attitude to life.
He checked his watch. He didn’t have to report to the set until noon, so he could afford to take a short nap. Even though he knew he probably wouldn’t sleep, he needed to breathe, to feel, to close his eyes and center himself. He could still feel the adrenaline buzzing through his bloodstream.
Thankful that the van only possessed its two front seats, while the rest of the vehicle was used for hauling equipment around, Cody got out of his seat and maneuvered himself into the back of the van. Someone had left an old sleeping bag there, and he unzipped it and spread it out, knowing it would offer his back some cushioning against the metal floor of the van. He stretched out on top of the thick material.
And thought about the blond woman. He wondered how she was feeling, where she’d been going, what was going to happen to her now. He wondered what would have happened if there had been no robbery this morning and if he’d been able to talk to her while she’d made her purchases.
Something about her had pulled at him. A flare of attraction. But something else.
He sighed. Stretched. Closed his eyes. Tried not to replay the robbery in his mind. Thought of his father’s ranch in Texas, the way it had been. The creek. Quarter horses grazing. The wind singing through the trees, the green tops and silvery undersides of the leaves making that subtle contrast in the sun. The smell of the earth. The feel of that sun on his shoulders.
It worked. Slowly but surely it worked. Despite the odds, he found a measure of peace.
JEN DIDN’T FEEL ANYTHING until she saw the young cashier’s mother enter the convenience store. An attractive brunette in her late thirties, she strode right over to her son, enfolding him in her arms.
“Oh, Johnny, are you all right?” Jen heard as the concerned female voice floated out from behind the counter. And as she watched mother and son, her eyes filled.
Her own mother had died when she was seven. Cancer had taken her quickly. Her father had provided Jen with every material comfort, except for the things she had really craved—love, understanding, acceptance and his time. Now, in this convenience store, if her father had come to help her, the first words out of his aristocratic mouth would have been blame. He was a master at assigning blame and instilling guilt. Something along the lines of What did you do?
She wondered if the clerk—Johnny—knew how very lucky he was.
She answered all the questions put to her by the police officers as best as she could. Concerned for Johnny, Jen sensed he felt the robbery was somehow his fault, or at least he didn’t believe he’d handled it as well as he could have. Needing to reassure him, perhaps as much for herself as for him, she approached the back of the store, where mother and son were now sitting.
Johnny had told the officers his full name was John McGann. Jen directed her attention to the young man’s mother. She didn’t think Johnny was in any shape to hear what she wanted to say.
“Mrs. McGann?” she said.
The clerk’s mother glanced up, her skin pale, her hazel eyes worried.
“I just wanted you to know your son was very brave. When—when we were behind the counter and we couldn’t see what was going on, he used his body to protect me. He would have—” She didn’t have to go on. All three of them knew what would have happened.
“Who was this man?” Mrs. McGann whispered, obviously referring to the stranger who had subdued the robber. “Why didn’t he stay?”
“I don’t know. But—but I thanked him. I—”
I don’t even know your name or how to thank you or—
Actually she hadn’t. She’d tried to, but she hadn’t.
“Well, he was an angel, protecting the two of you,” the older woman said. She eyed Jen. “Are you all right, hon? Would you like to come back home with us and have a cup of coffee or something? Maybe talk about it a little?”
When Jen didn’t answer, she said, “Do your folks live nearby? Is there anyone I can call to come and be with you?”
Another employee had arrived, ready to take over, as Johnny was clearly being given the rest of the day off. Jen hesitated. There had always been that part of her that had yearned for a mother, and Mrs. McGann was obviously a very good one, offering nurturing and support to her during the aftermath of this crisis. But Jen had a sudden intuition that if she didn’t get back on the road immediately, she might lose her nerve altogether and hightail it back to Chicago and the life her father wanted for her.
“That’s very kind, but I have to be in Phoenix later this morning.” Which was a lie. She had no one waiting for her in Phoenix. No one at all.
“I understand,” Mrs. McGann said, but Jen had the feeling she saw much more than she commented on. Funny how most mothers had that funny little sixth sense that clued them in to what was really going on. “But if you need to talk or anything, here’s my number. I’ll give you both home and work. And my cell. You can call me anytime. Anytime at all.” She scribbled the phone numbers on a piece of paper and handed it to her.
“Thank you, Mrs. McGann.”
“Laura. Call me Laura. And thank you for staying with Johnny until the police arrived. Until I arrived.”
“Of course.”
After making sure the police didn’t want her to remain for any more questioning and taking their card and giving them her cell number, Jen poured herself a large cup of coffee. She laced it with plenty of milk and sugar, took two of the glazed doughnuts, paid for her purchases over Johnny’s protests and walked outside to her Mustang.
The sage-scented desert air stung her nostrils as she breathed in deeply, and for one long moment she thought she was going to cry. There had been that moment, inside the store and on the floor, when she’d thought she’d never take another breath, and it felt so wonderful to still be alive. The sky, the air, the coffee—everything felt unbearably new, almost shimmering with life.
I’ll never take it for granted again.
Though little more than an hour had passed since she’d first entered the convenience store, Jen felt as if she were entering another lifetime. Though she was profoundly grateful to be alive, something crucial had been lost.
She’d realized how easy and inconsequential it was for some people to take a life, and that dark knowledge made her exhausted to her bones, to the depths of her soul.
And afraid.
As she unlocked her car, she thought of the man who had come to their rescue. He’d been tall and strong, and those blue eyes had been so intense when he’d silently ordered her behind the counter. And she’d obeyed, recognizing his strength and responding to it.
He’d been a hero in the true sense of the word. He’d acted in a heroic way with no thought for his own safety. He hadn’t had to come into the convenience store; he could have driven on or even considered himself a Good Samaritan by calling the police on his cell.
But he’d been a hero—her hero. And she couldn’t stop thinking about him; her memories of this man were so incredibly vivid. She felt as if they’d been etched on her soul, she’d been so touched by his selfless actions.
Jen knew she was being unreasonable, thinking of this man, spinning thoughts about him, wondering if…Most likely he had a family, a wife and a couple of children. She wondered if they all knew how lucky they were to have a man like that in their lives to protect them.
For an instant, as she slid into the driver’s seat and put her coffee and doughnuts down, she wished he was with her. She had a feeling if she could just lean on him for a few minutes, feel his arms around her, she wouldn’t feel so afraid.
But that was impossible.
CODY KNEW HE HAD TO LEAVE the parking lot, but he couldn’t seem to get his body in gear.
He was worn out. Perhaps weary was a better word. Soul sick, as his father would have said. He hadn’t had a whole lot of energy when he’d started out this morning, and the robbery had finished him off.
But he knew he had to get to work, so he set himself a limit of ten more minutes. Then he opened the van’s sliding side door and sat on the van’s floor, facing outside with his booted feet on the cement. He took in deep breaths of the cool, morning desert air. It felt fresh and open. Vast and timeless.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt glad to be alive.
JEN PULLED OUT OF THE PARKING lot, tried to take a sip of her coffee and found that she couldn’t. Her hands were shaking that badly.
Setting the takeout cup in the Mustang’s drink holder, she concentrated on driving through the small town, passing the first shopping center, driving by businesses and smaller, outlying houses surrounded by cacti and rock gardens. Trying to keep her attention on the road when her eyes were rapidly filling with frightened tears.
Aftershock. The shock was wearing off and she was starting to feel. And she didn’t want to. At least not while she was driving.
She was in no shape to be on the road.
The motel she finally spotted was on the far side of town, a small, pale pink stucco affair with a tiled roof. The neon sign, complete with a cactus, was turned off. But all Jen cared about was the black-and-white Vacancy sign prominently displayed.
She pulled into the parking lot, went into the main office and got a room, then drove a few more spaces down so she was parked in front of door number seventeen. Taking her coffee, the doughnuts and her overnight bag, she locked her car, then unlocked the motel room’s door and let herself in.
It was no resort, but the small room was pleasant. The queen-size bed had a clean, colorful green-and-cream-striped spread, and the room smelled fresh.
Locking the front door behind her, she dragged a ladder-back chair from the small table in front of the window and wedged it beneath the doorknob.
She knew this wasn’t normal behavior on her part, but she found herself suddenly scared, wanting to make the room secure, not wanting to be caught off guard. And she also knew exactly where those fears were coming from and that they were very normal after what she’d just experienced.
Jen sat on the bed. She forced herself to sip her warm coffee, then take bites of the doughnuts, chew and swallow. Automatically. Again and again, even though she didn’t really taste anything. She knew she had to go through these simple motions of living until she felt better again. Or at least until she got her blood sugar up.
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