Czytaj książkę: «Rescue Me!»

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.