The man turns his full attention to me. Natalia finally quiets down in my numb arms. “But I had been following him. I watched him come and go from your place several times, and it wasn’t until a few days ago that I really pieced together the fact that your kid was his. Suddenly, I realized I had a nice little insurance policy. A bargaining chip, if you will.”
When he steps towards me, I see a shadow fall momentarily over the window before quickly disappearing. I try to not look, keeping my eyes focused on him as much as possible so that I don’t tip him off. But in my peripheral vision, I see movement. My heartbeat picks up to near stroke level, but I do everything I can to school my facial expressions.
“I have a feeling Blake is searching for us right now. Hell, I’m counting on it,” he says with a malicious smile. He doesn’t point the gun at me, but he holds it firmly in his right hand.
I take slow, deliberate steps backwards as to not draw attention to the fact that I’m moving. “How long are you going to keep us here?” I ask. Keep him talking. Keep his focus away from the window, away from the door.
“Who knows? Could be an hour, could be a day. Hell, it could be a week before the big bad FBI finally get their thumbs out of their asses long enough to find the girl of one of their own.”
Movement behind the man catches my attention. The doorknob is moving. The air practically crackles with anticipation and nervousness. My entire body is alive with fear as I tuck Natalia as closely to my chest as possible. She actually passed out a few minutes ago, and her dead weight is wreaking havoc on the deadened muscles in my arms.
My leg bumps into a small engine on a stand. It’s not much, but I should be able to shield my daughter and most of myself behind the engine when things go down. And I can practically feel it in the air. Things are about to go down. The man before me must sense it too because suddenly, the gun is being raised. I don’t think, I just move. Just as I get Natalia and myself tucked behind the hoisted car part, the door blows apart. Smoke fills the garage quickly as shouts echo off the walls. While I can’t make out what they’re saying over the wails coming from my suddenly awake daughter and the men filling the garage, I know one thing for certain: this man isn’t going down without a fight.
A single gunshot fills the air causing me to inhale quickly. I tuck Natalia under my chin and try to shush her with a soothing tone. But I’m sure at this point there is no soothing my fifteen-month-old daughter. Another gunshot rings out a second later followed quickly by several more. My heart is practically exploding out of my chest as the tears stream down my face; mostly from the smoke bomb released inside the confines of the garage. The whole scene feels like the longest moments of my life, but in reality, it all happens in a matter of seconds.
Suddenly I’m being picked up from my crouching position. The green eyes that stare at me, along with his build, are the same as Blake’s, but I know instantly that it’s not him. His scent is wrong and the way his hands wrap around me feels foreign, but friendly.
“Keep your head down,” he orders. The voice is familiar. Not because it belongs to the man I love, but because it belongs to his brother. I remember him from the night I met Blake.
I do as I’m told and am carried outside and into the setting sun. Natalia cries loudly against my chest as Luke carries me towards the back of a big SUV. “Are you all right?” he asks, setting me down only long enough to open the doors.
Luke deposits me on the hard surface, instantly checking me over for injuries. “I’m okay,” I mumble through coughs.
“Talk to me, Carly. Natalia. Is she okay?” he asks me urgently. His green eyes are wide with concern.
“I think so,” I tell him as I begin to check over my daughter. She appears completely fine except for a small red bump on the front of her forehead. When I jumped behind the engine, I think I might have hit her head and my arm on the unforgiving hard surface.
Luke tries to touch Natalia’s head, but she pulls back. “Is she alright?” he asks.
“I think so. It’s just a little bump.”
“We’ll have her checked out as soon as the ambulance gets here. And you? How’s your arm?” he asks, indicating to the red, scraped flesh on my right forearm.
“I’m sure it’s fine. It looks like just a scrape.”
“You’ll get checked out too,” he says before turning and looking towards the garage.
“Where’s Blake?” I ask as I follow his gaze to the garage. Men are filing out, but the activity appears to be high energy.