Luke
blew on his hands for the fortieth time as he scanned the landscape
around them for any signs of life. He and Lucky had followed the
stable master, Yuri, up the county roads to a small town a bit upstate
from Port Chuck. It had taken eons for them to reach this godforsaken
place buried in a fresh blanket of ice and snow. Now he and Lucky
had hunkered down in a thick grove of trees. Plenty of cover. But,
Luke thought, they were far enough out in the woods for him to be
uncomfortable. If Helena had a group of her minions planted out
here, and they spotted him and Lucky, there’d be nowhere to
run and no one to hear their calls for help.
They’d tracked Yuri to this covered bridge. The man had gone
into it twenty minutes back. Since then, there’d been nothing.
“He couldn’t have Kristina in there, Dad,” Lucky
said now. “What the hell is he doing?”
“Waiting. So we’ll wait, too.”
It was only a short time later that Luke stood straight up and pointed
towards the bridge. “A guy just went in there. Around thirty-ish,
ponytail. Perfect model for a Helena boy toy. Let’s go.”
The two of them hustled off toward the bridge, their boots crunching
softly across the new snow. About halfway to their destination,
they heard yelling. A voice demanded, “Where is the little
girl? Where are you keeping her?”
The other voice was muffled and sounded more than a little fearful.
There were the sounds of a scuffle and then a muted explosion.
“Gun,” Lucky muttered and they froze in their tracks.
“Well, who d’ya think bought it: our guy or the new guy?”
Luke whispered as both he and his son took cover to see who emerged
from the bridge intact.
It was the new man, the one with the ponytail. Lucky cursed under
his breath and drew his gun from his side holster.
“What are you doing?” his father demanded.
“He shot Yuri. I gotta bring him in. Call for help. Get him
questioned.”
“Who are you? Taggert?”
“Dad, I can’t ignore an attempted murder.”
“I aint askin’ you to ignore it, just to play this smart,
Cowboy. For Kristina’s sake. Yuri’s a kidnapper. We’ll
get him help later if there’s anything left to help. Right
now, let’s follow the only guy we got to see if he leads us
to Helena or the kid.”
Lucky quickly assessed the situation. He knew he may regret it later,
but his father had a point. So as the shooter began a trek up a
nearby snow bank towards a lonely looking cottage, so did the Spencers.
It was all Sonny could do not to destroy every piece of furniture
in the Great Room when he got back to Wyndemere from his meeting
with Carly. Nikolas had just informed him that his men had turned
up nothing and that Luke had not called. He felt like an old man
as he dragged himself to the sofa.
Emily swept in with a tray of food and drinks. “I heard the
launch and got you some dinner, Sonny.”
Sonny leaned back on the couch, his face toward the ceiling and
sighed deeply. “I can’t eat, Em, but thanks.”
“No, that’s not gonna work twice,” the young woman
said. “You probably haven’t eaten since yesterday. You
need your strength. So sit up. It’s only light foods: soup
and sandwiches.”
Sonny smiled a weary smile and flicked his gaze to Nikolas. “Anybody
ever tell you you married a five star general?”
“Yep,” Nikolas replied with a smile on his handsome face.
“She’s tough.”
Sonny tried some of the soup, found it flavorful and warming after
the long cold journey back to the island. He tucked into it and
then ate the turkey sandwich with gusto after his first few tentative
tries. Emily giggled when he handed her an empty tray a few minutes
later. Every crumb of food and sip of liquid was gone.
“Did Alexis eat?” Sonny asked.
“Yeah, she had a little something earlier. I forced her, too.”
“Good girl,” Sonny said.
“I’m afraid her mood wasn’t any better though,”
Nikolas added. “It’s like hearing from Helena just sapped
the hope right out of her. She stayed in her room most of the day.”
Sonny sighed again and then lugged his exhausted form off the sofa
and towards the stairs. He knocked on the outer door to Alexis’
suite of rooms, hearing her say to come in a moment later. When
he entered, he espied her curled up on the couch, her legs tucked
under her, and a blanket around her shoulders. She looked as if
she was wearing her nightclothes underneath, though it was only
a little past seven.
Quietly he sat down beside her on the little sofa. She looked at
him but didn’t quite meet his eyes. In the dimness of the room,
he could not read her expression at all. But even if he couldn’t
see her, he sensed the wall that had come down in her mind, shutting
out all sunlight, blocking out all hope. He knew that wall well…it
was the same protective fortress that existed in his own head. When
trouble came, he retreated behind it, too. But it never helped anything,
never took the pain away. So he wasn’t about to let Alexis
use it to hide from him now.
Presently, he reached out to brush a strand of her hair back behind
her ear and was startled to see her flinch and turn her head away.
Dear God, he’d just had his heart laid bare and impaled on
the heel of one of Carly’s stilettos. His marriage was as done
as the ash at the bottom of the fireplace. And all he wanted was
to grab Alexis, bury his face in the silky strands of her hair,
hold her close to him, and tell her how much he needed her. But
as she turned away from him now, the words dried up in his throat.
