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“He’s a Bernese Mountain dog.”
At her confused look, he clarified. “He’s a large dog. He’s trained, but I don’t want to take any chances. If he were to jump on you, he’d knock you off your feet.” Once he’d taken a minute to greet his furry friend, he grabbed a cookie knowing it would encourage him to willingly get in his crate. “Good boy.”
He returned to the front door and held the door for Becky to enter. “We can talk after we’ve both gotten cleaned up.” He showed her to the guest room. “I don’t have any women’s clothing, but I might be able to scrounge up a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt you can wear until you have a chance to wash your clothes. There’s a bathroom down the hall. Take your time. I’ll cook up some dinner. Once you're settled, we can let Titan out, so you can get to know each other.”
Once he was inside his own bedroom, he shut the door and leaned his head against it. He glanced at his bed longingly before moving into the adjoining bathroom. A shower was a must before he could relax. When he set his phone on the counter, he noticed a text from Cate asking him about getting together for dinner. It must’ve come through when he was changing clothes at the office.
Malachi: Sorry I missed your message. If you’re still in town, maybe you could come by the house for dinner. There are some new developments I’d like to share.
He waited several minutes, but when no response came, he set down his cell. Five minutes later, he finished toweling off and threw on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt then grabbed his cell, flopped down on his bed, and stared at the ceiling. A quick glance at his phone showed there was still no response from Cate.
Malachi: You there, Cate?
He stared at his phone for a good two minutes. No answer. After checking his email, he looked to see if she’d responded. Nothing.
Malachi: If you can answer me, please do. I’m worried.
A bark reminded him he’d left Titan in his crate, so he headed to the family room to let him out. Becky sat on the sofa. Oddly enough, Pixie was curled up in her lap purring. His cat didn’t take to many people, so he wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“I’m going to need to let Titan out. Are you afraid of dogs?”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t voice any fears. He spoke calmly to the dog and opened his crate. Titan sat in front of Becky, clearly expecting the same reception he’d received from Cate, but that wasn’t going to happen. Becky tentatively held her hand out for him to sniff, but then quickly jerked it back and once again buried her fingers in the cat’s fur. Satisfied that the introduction had gone as well as could be expected, he headed into the kitchen with Titan at his heels.
Maybe cooking dinner would prove to be the distraction he needed. The search for ingredients to put together a decent meal was rewarded with chicken and vegetables. Twenty minutes later, the smell of honey-garlic chicken stir fry sizzling on the burner brought Becky into the kitchen.
“Something smells good.”
He set out plates for three, in case Cate showed up, then scooped some rice onto two of the plates and topped it with the stir fry. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Who is the other plate for?” Becky asked.
“My girlfriend.”
“That redhead girl I saw in the park office a couple of weeks ago?”
“That’s her. Yes.”
“She’s pretty. Does she live here with you?”
He clenched his jaw tight. Cate was none of her business, but saying so would be rude. “Yep, she is pretty. She has her own place in State College, but she’s working near here today.” After silently asking God to help him be the man he’d created him to be, he said Grace. Becky’s demeanor made it clear she was uncomfortable with prayer, but they were in his house. And in his house, God reigned supreme.
They ate the remainder of the meal in silence. When he finished eating, he glanced at his phone again. Still no response. Her phone may have died.
He could check with her brothers. Heaven knew those two kept close tabs on her. He didn’t want to appear overbearing and overprotective when he knew she had enough of that in her life. But, on the other hand, if she was in some kind of trouble, he wanted to help. However, if she was held up at work and he made a huge big deal of it, she wouldn’t take his overreaction well.
If he was smart, he’d focus on what he was going to do about Becky instead of worrying so much about Cate. But his internal alarms were shouting a warning. Something was wrong, and he couldn’t ignore it.
The stranger had eyes like ice. Cold and distant. She assumed he was Reece Mclean aka Maurice Moretti. He used two lengths of rope to bind her ankles and wrists then stuffed her into a tent. “Scream, and I’ll shoot you.”
The fact that he didn’t gag her told her nobody who would care would hear her screams even if he hadn’t threatened her into silence. None of her self-defense courses or shooting range time prepared her for someone sneaking up behind her and pointing a gun at her skull. When she’d been held captive the last time, she hadn’t been able to save herself, but a voice inside told her that if she wanted to survive this, she’d need to find a way to do just that.
Once Reece was gone, she sat up and scooted around. She could move, albeit not easily.
Positioning herself so she could see through the crack in the tent door, she watched the people milling about. Very few people spoke, and she assumed those brave enough to talk were the ones in charge. They looked like they were preparing for war. Men loaded guns into a camper. Women carried boxes to a truck. She couldn’t tell what the boxes contained, but she highly doubted it was used clothing destined for Goodwill.
If she managed to get herself out of the tent, someone would notice. And, she’d likely get herself shot. She’d been hoping to sneak away while they slept, but it looked like they were leaving in a hurry. The question was would they kill her first, take her with them, or leave her behind. None were great options, but she preferred the last. Unlikely they’d leave her. Her death wouldn’t mean much to a man who killed people for a living. One of her classmates had done a presentation about the Moretti family a few years back. From what he’d said, the younger Moretti was trained by his father. Having had a supportive and loving family, she couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea of a father who would teach his young son how to take the lives of other human beings for profit.
But her emotional response to his upbringing was a concern she needed to set aside. Now it was her life at stake, and she needed to find a way to survive.
