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The answer to that came quickly.
As John reached the street and signaled right, the van shifted into drive and began creeping out of its spot, keeping a respectable distance between themselves and John’s car.
“Okay, it looks as if we’re going to have company on the way home,” John told Shannon as he casually ad
justed the rearview mirror. “Don’t turn around. Just face front.” He made the turn and began cruising down the suburban street.
“Lisa’s apartment is only a few blocks away.” Shannon was freaking out again. “What happens when we get there?”
“The same thing that happened on our way out of Starbucks. I park. We walk. We chat. We go inside.”
“What if they follow us? What if they try to grab me? What if we can’t get away?” Shannon tried to catch her breath.
“I’ll take care of things, no matter what. They won’t lay a hand on you. I promise.” John studied Shannon in his peripheral vision. “Please, Shannon. You have to trust me. Don’t go to pieces on me now.”
“I do. I won’t.” Shannon clasped her hands tightly in her lap and waited.
Despite the pedestrian traffic, they reached the apartment in eight minutes. John took an assigned parking spot right beside the building.
“Whose parking space is this?” Shannon asked.
John shrugged. “Someone who’s not home.” He was watching the van pull into the lot behind them. “They’ve got more balls than I thought,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?” Shannon hadn’t heard John’s words, but she did see the expression on his face. “Where are they?”
“Behind us. Waiting.” He reached under his jacket and pulled his pistol out of its shoulder holster.
Shannon glanced over and went sheet white. “You have a gun?” A pause. “Of course you do.”
“Hopefully, I won’t need to use it,” John replied. “Remember, keep it together, wait for my signal, then walk beside me, and we’ll be safely inside in two minutes.” He paused, watching Shannon’s eyes, still fixed on the pistol. “It’s okay, Shannon. I’m coming around to get you now. Don’t unlock your side until I’m there.”
Before he could yank open his car door, the van swerved around and rammed into the driver’s side, effectively trapping John inside.
Realizing the game plan, John kept his eyes on the van’s occupants and ordered Shannon, “Keep your head down and your door locked.”
Instantly, she complied.
The van’s passenger door flew open, and the thug who’d been feeding the meter at Starbucks jumped out, whipping out his gun in an obvious attempt to blow John away and kidnap Shannon. The driver remained at the wheel, ready for a quick getaway.
Neither happened.
In a heartbeat, John lowered his window and aimed his pistol at the thug’s chest. The first shot would clearly be his—and it would be fatal.
Seeing this, the would-be kidnapper panicked. He leapt back into the van and slammed the door.
“Go, go!” he yelled to the driver.
The guy at the wheel jolted into reverse. He screeched backwards, then slammed into drive and took off like a bat out of hell.
John watched them until they disappeared from view. Then he turned to Shannon. “Are you okay?”
Her head still down, she nodded.
“They’re gone. Let’s get you inside ASAP.”
He shoved at his car door until it opened, then raced around and ushered Shannon out of the car and into the apartment.
Patrick was five minutes away when he heard from John. He listened closely, then immediately began scrutinizing the highway on the off-chance that the van was somewhere nearby.
