Kitabı oku: «Missing In The Mountains»

Chapter Four

Sawyer watched in horror as the man in black pulled back his fist and shot it forward at Emma and her baby. At Sawyer’s baby. Fury burned in his veins, propelling him faster, erasing the final distance between them as Emma’s body began to wobble and fall. She uttered Sawyer’s name as his feet reached the curb only a yard from her side. The desperate, heartbreaking sound was nearly enough to land him on his knees.

Time seemed to stand still as her eyelids drooped shut, extinguishing the final glimmer of her awareness. Sawyer dove for them, catching Emma’s body in a hug as it went limp and pressing both her and Henry to his chest. “Call 911!” he demanded, turning to fix a pointed look on the gathered bystanders.

Sawyer gritted his teeth as the assailant pushed through a throng of pedestrians at the alley’s opposite end and escaped his wrath, for now, with Emma’s bag.

The soft whir of emergency sirens spun to life in the distance, barely audible over Henry’s cries.

Sawyer focused on the lives he held in his arms. He repositioned them, allowing Emma’s arms to fall to her sides, and getting a more comforting hold on Henry. “Shh,” he whispered to his son. The seething anger he felt for Emma’s attacker would have to wait. “I’ve got you, and you’re going to be okay,” he vowed, kissing the child’s head on instinct, cuddling him tighter. And he would return the man’s assaulting punch at the first opportunity.

Emma’s lids fluttered open. “Henry.”

“I’ve got him, and help is on the way for you.” Sawyer took a moment to evaluate the rising bruise on her cheekbone. Her assailant’s fist had been large enough to mark her from jaw to temple, and Sawyer felt his fingers curl once more with the need to return the hit. “The police and ambulance are almost here,” he assured her.

The sirens were loud now. Emergency vehicles would arrive at any moment.

Then Sawyer could plot his revenge on the man who’d done this to his family.

A SLOW AND GENTLE jostling roused Emma once more. The low murmur of a crowd and distant sounds of traffic pricked her ears. A cool and hearty breeze roused her with a snap. Suddenly, Emma’s muddled thoughts pulled together in a sharp and deeply horrific memory. A man had attacked her and Henry outside the credit union. He’d taken all of Sara’s things. Stolen the diaper bag from her hands. And hit her. “Henry!” Her eyes jerked wide.

“He’s here,” Sawyer answered. He appeared at her side, baby tucked safely in the crook of his arm. “He’s okay.”

Henry worked the small blue pacifier in his mouth. A broad grin stretched beneath the little soother when he caught her in his sight.

Emma sighed in relief. “Thank you,” she whispered, fighting tears and taking inventory of the changes in her situation. The assailant was gone. Sawyer was here, and she was strapped to a gurney. An EMT pressed cool, probing fingers to her wrist. “Did he get away?” she asked Sawyer, craning her neck for signs of a policeman with the lunatic in handcuffs.

“Yeah,” Sawyer answered. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “You saved Henry.”

The muscle pulsed in Sawyer’s jaw. His eyes were hard and cold. “The man who hurt you got away.”

Sawyer’s voice raised goose bumps over her skin. His calculating expression didn’t help.

“Your cheek will be tender for a while,” the EMT said. He explored the red-hot ache with a gentle touch. “Skin didn’t break,” he said. “There’s no need for a bandage or stitches, but I recommend ice for swelling and aspirin as needed for pain.” He flashed a blinding light into her eyes, and she winced. “Blurry vision?” he asked.

“No.”

“Memory loss?”

“No.” She frowned. That wasn’t completely true. “I don’t remember you arriving,” she said, “but I remember being cornered, robbed and assaulted by a man in head-to-toe black. He wore a scarf across the bottom half of his face.”

The EMT nodded, a small frown on his lips. “I’m sorry that happened to you and your baby.” He pocketed the light. “If you develop any nausea or unusual neck pain, go to the ER. Tell them about this.”

“Okay,” she agreed, eager to get off the gurney and avoid an ambulance ride she absolutely couldn’t afford. “I can go?”

He raised his attention to Sawyer, already moving into position so he could help her down. “You’ll drive her?” he asked.

Sawyer reached for Emma’s hand. “Yes.”

“Not so fast,” a vaguely familiar voice interrupted. The detective who’d come to her home to take the report of Sara’s abduction moved into view, pen and paper in hand. “I have a few questions, if you don’t mind. I’ve spoken to several witnesses, and I’d like to get your statement as well before the details become murky from time.”

Sawyer stepped between the detective and the gurney. His pale blue eyes locked onto hers. “You don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to. He can come by later, or I can take you to the station when you’re feeling better.”

Emma took a deep, settling breath and lifted her chin. “I can do it now,” she said, and then she slowly relived the second-worst experience of her life in vivid detail.

When it was over, she told Detective Rosen about Sara’s hidden notebook, and he promised to pick it up personally, after he’d finished with the current crime scene.

At home, she showered until her skin pruned up, attempting and failing to wash the feel of the man’s hands off her. Then, with Henry dozing in his crib, she cried herself to sleep in the middle of the afternoon.

She woke to an empty crib at her bedside and the tangy scent of barbecue in the air.

She was on her feet instantly in search of her son. The scents of her grill suggested all was well, that Sawyer was grilling, but she wasn’t sure she liked him nabbing Henry without letting her know. She crept down the hallway toward the kitchen warring with herself. Henry was his son, but surely common courtesy dictated that he at least let her know before taking him like that. No one else in her world would have dared. Maybe Sara. The thought clogged her throat.

Emma found Sawyer on the back porch, manning the grill as suspected.

He turned before she spoke, as if he’d somehow sensed her arrival. “Hey,” he said, his gaze lingering on her cheek. “Did we wake you?”

“No,” Emma said flatly, “but I wish you would have. Instead, I woke to find an empty crib. I didn’t like it.” Across from the grill, aligned with the porch swing she loved, Henry swung cheerfully from a red-and-yellow baby swing fastened to the rafters of the porch roof. “You put up the swing,” she said, unsure if she was doubly frustrated that Sawyer had helped himself to that too, or warmed by the gesture.

Sawyer opened the lid to her steaming grill and flipped a line of burgers with practiced skill. “I found it in the garage while I was double-checking the perimeter. I think I woke the little guy with your power drill, but he let me off the hook when I suggested he give the swing a try.” Pride tugged Sawyer’s lips, and Emma wondered if it was his handiwork or Henry that caused it. “If you don’t want the swing there, I can move it,” he said, brows dipping into a V. “Whatever you want.”

“It’s fine,” Emma said, drifting toward her son. “He clearly loves it.” She stroked Henry’s soft brown hair and kissed his head, inhaling the soft scents of sunshine and baby shampoo. She’d come so close to seeing him hurt today. Her fingers found the aching skin of her cheek on instinct, recalling the moment of impact with perfect, bone-rattling clarity. Then she’d been rescued by the man of her dreams. A man she’d long ago assumed had walked out of her life permanently, only to turn up and move in with her on the night of their strange reunion.

Last night.

Her stomach churned with the weight of all that had happened these last twenty-four hours. Nearly forty-eight, if she started counting from the moment her sister had been torn from their home. Her heart raced, and her mouth dried. It was just too much.

Sawyer closed the grill lid and watched her for a long beat before speaking. “Do you want to sit down?” He poured her a glass of ice water from the pitcher sitting on the little table she normally shared with Sara. “I planned to check in on you when the burgers were done. It’s been a long day. I thought you might want to eat.”

Emma curled one arm around her middle, attempting feebly to hold herself together. “You didn’t have to do this,” she said.

Sawyer gave his spatula a little spin. “It’s just burgers,” he said smoothly, as if that was true.

But it wasn’t just burgers. It was the attentiveness and compassion. The protection and security. It was all the things she’d missed so deeply when Sawyer had left, and it was like peeling the scab off a wound she’d worked very hard to heal.

Emma straightened her spine. “I meant you don’t have to watch Henry so I can sleep or hang swings or cook for me.” The gestures were clearly meant to be helpful and not intrusive, she decided, and she couldn’t be mad that he’d taken Henry from the crib when he woke. It was a fatherly thing to do. The swing. The burgers. All acts of kindness. But Emma’s gut still churned with anger. She didn’t need Sawyer’s help with those things. She’d been fine on her own all these months. Why should he get to walk back in and pretend he’d been here all along?

Sawyer narrowed his eyes. “It’s the least I can do, don’t you think?”

“No,” she said honestly. “I called Fortress Security because I needed help keeping Henry safe and finding Sara. You saved us from that lunatic today. That’s what I need from you. That and help finding my sister.”

Sawyer’s eyes went cold at the mention of the man in the alley. It was a new look on him. One she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“My face hurts,” she said. “I’m mad in general. I’m also thankful Henry wasn’t hurt.”

Sawyer took a step in her direction, hand raised as if he might touch her swollen cheek. He stopped short, clearly thinking better of it, and lowered his arm. He raised his attention from the bruise to her eyes. “I’m going to find the man who did this.”

“Good, because I think he was the same man who took Sara,” she said through a tightening throat, “and that man is a monster.”

“What?” Sawyer’s already aggravated expression darkened. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I recognized his voice. So, I can tell you from experience that Henry and I were lucky. I stood by and listened as he strangled Sara with his bare hands, held her down, made her bleed, then dragged her away.” The memory of mopping her sister’s blood off the living room floor rushed back to mind, and she stood, ready to run. She didn’t want to have an emotional breakdown in front of Henry. Or Sawyer. The day had been too difficult already. “Excuse me.”

Sawyer was on his feet instantly. “Hey.” He caught her in his arms and pulled her against his chest. The strong, familiar embrace felt so much like home, so much like everything she’d been missing for far too long. “I know I wasn’t here for you before,” he said, “but I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone, Emma.” He stroked her hair, and her heart gave a heavy thump.

She tried not to read into his promise. He wasn’t going anywhere for now, but he’d be gone again when Sara came home. He would stay in Henry’s life after that, but not in hers. Not really. Not the way her twisting heart wanted. Tears pricked her eyes, and her chest grew heavy with the need to cry.

“Excuse me,” she blurted, bobbing free of him and running back inside.

Tears streamed over her cheeks with every footstep down the long hall to her room.

SAWYER KNOCKED ON Emma’s door a few minutes later, then swung it open. The en suite bathroom door was ajar. “Emma?” he called. “Everything okay?”

She stepped out of the bathroom with red-rimmed eyes and blotchy skin. “Sorry. I needed a minute.”

Sawyer set Henry in the crib beside her bed, a fresh cocktail of anger and regret mixing in his gut. “Feeling better?”

“No.” She blew out a shaky breath, checking the corners of her mouth with her fingertips. “Not much. How’s Henry?”

Sawyer gave his son a quick look. “He conked out in the swing. I wasn’t sure it was good for him to sleep with his head tipped the way it was.”

“Thanks.” She moved toward the crib, toward Henry, and the urge to pull her against him was nearly too much.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You know that what happened to Sara isn’t your fault,” he said. “You couldn’t have fought that guy and protected Henry at the same time. You did the only thing you could do. You were smart, quick thinking and brave.”

“I don’t feel like any of those things,” she said, dragging her gaze from Henry to Sawyer.

He understood. Better than she could know. “Well, do you feel like a burger?”

Emma nodded, and Sawyer led her to the kitchen, where he’d set the table in her absence. She took a seat and downed the glass of ice water he’d poured for her. “How’d everything look when you checked the property?”

“Could be better,” he said, hoping to sound less frustrated than he had been at the sight of the inadequate security measures protecting two single women and a baby. “Your locks are old. The windows are old. There are no security cameras. No alarm.” He ran a heavy hand over his head and gripped the back of his neck. “I’ll replace the locks and see what I can do to better secure the windows.”

Emma set her empty glass aside and frowned. “I’d hoped to raise Henry on a farm, not inside a fortress.”

“We all hope for a lot of things,” Sawyer said stiffly. “But we have to adapt to the situations at hand, and right now, you need a fortress.”

Emma placed a burger on her plate and covered it in mushrooms and onions, going through the motions, he assumed, but forgoing the bun.

Sawyer made his burger and bit into it, keeping one eye on her. He’d grilled burgers for her a dozen times during their monthlong whirlwind romance. In fact, some of his favorite memories with Emma had a grill in the background.

He’d been given a thirty-day leave last year after a particularly intense and dangerous mission, and he’d only expected to sleep in and veg out. Instead, he’d met Emma at a bonfire near a lake where he’d been fishing. He’d marched over to her, introduced himself. They’d hit it off, and he begged for her number when it was time for her to leave. He called her as she walked away. Invited her to fireworks in the park the next night. They’d spent nearly every day together from there. Until he had to go back.

Emma pushed the veggies around with her fork. “What if we don’t find her?” she asked, pulling his thoughts back to the present.

Sawyer paused, the burger partway to his lips. “We’ll find her.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s what I do. I search and rescue. I find people who don’t want to be found, and I bring folks who are desperate to be found home.” Images of his last mission flashed into mind. He’d taken his men on a rescue mission with bad intel. He’d assessed the risk, and he’d been dead wrong. He walked them into a trap, and that had cost five good men their lives. It darn near cost Sawyer his sanity.

“What if we find her and it’s too late when we do?” The quaver in Emma’s voice opened Sawyer’s eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d shut them.

Sawyer put the burger down. “We’re going to find Sara, and she’s going to be okay when we do,” he promised. “Meanwhile, I’ll be here to make sure no one gets near you or Henry again while we figure out what was going on. Okay?”

Emma shook her head, looking half-ill and pursing her lips.

“What?” he asked. They’d just covered her safety, Henry’s safety and Sara’s safe return. What else could make her look that way?

“I let go of the bag,” she said. “I had everything from Sara’s desk in that bag, and I let him have it.”

“You didn’t let him have anything,” Sawyer argued. “I watched you fight him for it while holding a baby.”

Emma shook her head. “Now he has what he wanted, and he doesn’t have a reason to keep her alive anymore. Letting go of that bag might’ve killed my sister.”

“Whoa.” Sawyer raised his hands into a T for a time-out. “Look. You don’t know any of that. Not his motivation. Not his endgame. You don’t even know if what he wanted was in that bag. If he wanted the notebook with the numbers, the joke is on him because we had that and Detective Rosen picked it up an hour ago as promised.”

Emma lifted hopeful eyes to his. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he said.

She nodded, steadying herself. “You’re right.” She forked a stack of mushrooms, studying them, her thoughts clearly somewhere else.

“Spill it,” Sawyer said, wiping his mouth and then pressing the napkin to the table. “I’ve been gone awhile, but I know that face. You’ve got something to say. So, say it. It’s better to clear the air than try to work through the smoke. Heaven knows we’ve got little fires burning everywhere.”

She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “How did you get through the things you went through overseas? I know you’re trained. You’re smart. You’re tough. That’s not what I mean.”

Sawyer bit into his burger, locked in her gaze and wishing she knew it was memories of her that had gotten him through the worst things imaginable. “Hope.”

Emma pushed a forkful of mushrooms into her mouth and watched him curiously. She nodded. “I can do that.” She chewed, swallowed, had some water, still scrutinizing Sawyer until he itched to get up and move. Her gaze shifted quickly away before returning to meet his. “I spent a lot of time over the past year wondering if you ever thought of me,” she said, cheeks reddening.

He could see the honesty cost her. So, he would be honest right back. “I did. Often. I used to think of the things we’d done together. Now I’m just thinking about all the things I’ve missed.” He clamped his mouth shut and did his best to look less vulnerable than he suddenly felt. Things were complicated enough between him and Emma without him getting emotional. This wasn’t the time for heart-to-hearts and personal confessions.

The mission was to find Sara and protect Emma and Henry at all costs. He took another angrier bite of burger.

Emma stood and left.

Sawyer groaned. He used to be a people person. He made people comfortable, at ease, even happy. Lately, he could clear a room with a look and a greeting. He hadn’t particularly minded the change until now.

Emma returned several minutes later with a scrapbook. She set it on the table beside his plate. “Sara made this for me.”

She returned to her seat and lifted her fork to finish dinner.

Sawyer examined the big blue book. Henry’s name and newborn photo were glued to the cover and framed with red ribbon. A photo of Emma in a ponytail and “baby on board” T-shirt was positioned just below the first. Her beautifully round belly was tough to look away from, and it hit him again. She’d been pregnant. Delivered their child. Brought him home. Got to know him. Learned to care for him, and Sawyer had missed it all.

He opened the book and turned the pages with reverence, poring over every detail. Every photo. Every inscription. He admired the proud smile on Emma’s face in each photo.

“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, resting back in her chair. “You look furious.”

“No.” He closed the book. A swell of pride and gratitude expanded his chest. “Thank you,” he said softly.

She quirked a brow. “You can’t keep that. Sara made it for me.”

“No.” He laughed. “Not for the book. For Henry.”

Emma’s cheeks reddened again. “It’s not like I made him on my own.”

“No, but you did everything else on your own,” he said. “I can’t imagine how frightening it was to learn you were going to have a baby. Especially one whose father was literally MIA.” He thought again of the monsters who’d taken those months and his men from him, but forced the images aside. He curled his fingers around the book’s edge, grounding himself to the present. “You could’ve chosen so many other ways to deal with your pregnancy, and I swear I never would’ve judged you, whatever you’d decided, but—” he cleared his thickening throat “—but because you made these choices—” he lifted the scrapbook in a white-knuckle grip “—I’m a father, and whatever you think of me now, I am irrevocably indebted to you for this.”

Emma’s mouth fell open, then was slowly pulled shut. “You’re welcome.”

Sawyer’s aching heart warmed at her acceptance of his apology. It was a step in the right direction. “What was it like?” he asked.

“Scary at first, then pretty amazing,” she said, forking a bite of bunless burger into her mouth. “I got really fat.”

Sawyer let his gaze trail over her, indulging himself in the admiration of her new curves. “Agree to disagree.”

“I’m working on getting back in shape now,” she assured him. “It feels good but getting chubby with a purpose was fun too.” Her lips twitched, nearly accomplishing a smile.

By the time dinner was done, and Sawyer had cleared the table, some of the smoky air between them had cleared, as well. Emma joined him at the sink in companionable silence as they washed and dried dishes by hand before putting them away. It was dangerously easy to be with Emma when she wasn’t looking at him as if he might be the one in need of protection from her. Easy to let himself think there could a future for them, that he could somehow make up for his absence when it had counted most.

But Sawyer couldn’t afford to think that way. Couldn’t afford to get distracted until he brought Sara home safely as promised. Only after he’d proved himself worthy of Emma’s trust would he allow himself to dream of more. Until then, he had work to do.