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I didn’t know why but I backed away from the sink and the door. Everything that happened after that was reactionary. I dragged the couch from the wall and crouched behind it. The concrete wall was rough against my cheek. I huddled in the musty sliver of space I created. I had to cover my mouth with my hands when I heard two gunshots. It was hard to contain the scream that was pulled from my throat. The lock on the door had been destroyed just before a heavy boot kicked the door open.
I’d never been terrified before. There were times in my life when my father scared me. Threatened me. Wielded his power as a weapon to control me with fear. But terror? I’d never come close to the way my body was immobilized with paralysis. I forgot to breathe. Somewhere in the fog of fear I heard my name.
“Kennedy? Kennedy!” Kimble shouted.
“Kimble?” I croaked out.
The couch slid away from my body and he stood in front of me, gun drawn, pointed toward the ceiling.
The expression on his face told me how horrible I must have looked to him. He lifted me to my feet with one arm.
“Are you hurt?”
I shook my head. I was trying to process that he was here. He spun toward the door, shielding me behind his back.
“That’s good. That’s good news. Let’s go. You can walk okay?”
“Yes,” I whispered. It was the first time my bodyguard actually touched me. He squeezed my hand and led me through the door. I stared at it in amazement, afraid that once I crossed the threshold, I’d learn some horrible lesson. I’d be electrocuted or kicked backward as the door slammed shut, leaving me on one side and Kimble on the other. He had to tug me to the steps.
“It’s okay,” he assured me. “The house is cleared out. I can carry you.”
“No,” I replied. “I can walk out of here.”
I didn’t know who the bastards were who had kidnapped me, but I wasn’t going to let them have anymore power over me. I would walk out of my prison on my own feet.
Kimble reached for my hand again, but I waved him off. “I’m fine. I can walk.”
He took me out of the back of the house through the alley exit. His SUV was parked around the corner. His head swiveled back and forth the entire time we jogged to the vehicle. It was a fleeting thought, but I couldn’t help but remember all the times I’d tried to outsmart Kimble. All the times I’d lied to him. Hidden from him. Sneaked out of the house and caused him to search for me. I treated him like shit. Like trash. Like a stupid brute.
His palm gripped my shoulder as he held open the backdoor for me.
“Just stay down,” he instructed me.
I was brimming with adrenaline and a new awe for him. I nodded.
The door closed and Kimble slid behind the steering wheel. The gun rested in the console. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror.
“You sure you’re okay?” he repeated.
I fastened my seatbelt. “Other than desperately needing a shower, I’m fine.” My fingers trembled, making it hard to snap the belt into place. I had a thousand questions for him, starting with how he found me. I sat low in the seat.
“Does my father know you found me?” I asked. I wondered if he was worried. Had the nurse even tried to tell him I was gone? It was probably a terrible idea to inform a dying man his daughter had been kidnapped.
“Kennedy.”
My eyes met Kimble’s in the mirror.
“No,” I whispered.
He pulled over on the side of the road. We were somewhere where sugar can grew. He shifted the SUV to park and twisted in the seat.
“Mr. Martin, your father, he passed away last night. I’m sorry.”
I felt a lump in my throat. I nodded. “Thank you for letting me know.” I looked out the window. The sugar cane rustled in the breeze. “Was he alone?” I asked.
“The night nurse was with him,” he answered.
I bit the inside of my cheek. I was angry at myself for feeling sadness and pain. He didn’t deserve my grief. He’d done nothing but resent me my entire life. I’d barely made the cut to be his protégé. His own daughter, ineligible. I’d fought so hard for a place next to him and now he was gone. That place didn’t exist anymore.
