Sophie Oak - One to Keep

“I’m going to take her home now that the morning’s fun seems to be over,” Zane said, looking a little green himself. “Tell Nate where we are if you see him.”

“Sure thing. Where’s Jennifer? Max said she was with Callie and Rachel?” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice.

Zane shrugged. “Don’t know. They must have left while Callie was heaving half her body weight in the bathroom.”

“Gross.” She smacked Zane in the chest, but Stef didn’t miss the way she cuddled against him as though she could draw his strength into her body.

“If I see her, I’ll let her know you’re looking for her. You try her cell?”

“She’s not answering,” Stef replied. He turned and saw Stella at the counter. She was talking to his father. Zane and Callie continued out toward the parking lot. Stef stalked to the counter, pushing through the swinging doors, a restless feeling in his gut.

He didn’t fail to notice that Stella’s hand was in his father’s, their fingers entwined. He was happy for his father and Stella, but he couldn’t let that take precedence over his need to find Jennifer and that painting.

“Stella, where did Jen go?” Stef asked, well aware that his voice was gruff.

Stella’s face looked years younger as she turned to Stef. Her hand never left Sebastian’s. “She was here just a bit ago. She and Rachel went to find Holly.”

A deep voice spoke up from the end of the counter. “Holly came back?”

Stef glanced at the doctor, who was sitting at the end of the counter, sipping a mug of coffee, and it hit him. Who the hell else in this town would let Holly talk him into buying a painting for far, far more than it was worth right now? Stef knew Jen’s paintings would be worth more one day, but for now, it was only of interest to investment collectors. Holly couldn’t know that it was worth anything. Who would she sell it to? Who else but the man who had walked into town and promptly fallen in love with her? Oh, Stef knew Caleb hadn’t made a single move on her yet, but he brooded enough to let the world know he was crazy about her. As a man who had spent an enormous amount of time brooding over a female, he knew the signs and could diagnose the good doc’s disease.

“Where did you stash the painting?” Stef asked, unwilling to waste a ton of time.

Caleb sat up straight. “The painting? I don’t paint.” Stef bit back a moan of frustration. He’d already forgotten. “The one you bought from Holly?”

Caleb’s eyes suddenly found his coffee mug as though he was seeking something there. “Oh, that. Yeah, I loved that painting. So beautiful.”

“Cut the crap. Everyone knows you have a thing for Holly.”

“No, I don’t. I’m married.” Caleb shook his head, running his hand across his face. “I mean, I was married. I…it’s too soon to think about anyone else. Holly is just a nice girl.” Caleb’s wife had been dead for five years, but Stef wasn’t about to argue with him. “Where is it?”

He shrugged, as though content to put the other line of conversation behind him. “I put it in my office. It’s in a closet. I haven’t had time to put it up.”

It would have to do for now. “Good. Keep it there. Don’t let anyone into your office until I get Nate off the mountain. Stella, try calling him. If that doesn’t work, someone go down and wake Logan up. I have to find Jennifer and get her somewhere safe.”

“Didn’t Jennifer go down to the Sheriff’s Office?” His father had already pulled out his cell and passed it to Stella.

Stef heard a dog barking as the doors to the diner came open, and Rachel stumbled in. Everyone was on their feet in an instant. Stef managed to get to her just as she began to fall to the floor. Her face was red and covered in tears.

“Oh, god, not again.” She moaned as her whole body seized and pain contorted her face into a grimacing mask.

“Rachel, how far apart are the contractions?” Caleb knelt beside her, his hand finding her wrist. For all his tics and odd mannerisms, the minute he needed to, he became a cool, calm professional.

She shook her head. “No contractions. It’s just a little pain.” Stubborn. It described Rachel to a T. Stef tried to settle her down.

“Rachel, I see your stomach seizing. You’re in labor. I can tell, and I don’t have a medical degree.”

“I can’t have the baby now,” she said, her voice hitching with every breath.

“I don’t think he’s going to wait, Rachel.” Caleb put a hand on her belly. “I need to get you back to the clinic. I don’t know that we have time for a hospital. Besides, you have to have the baby. Your water looks like it broke. No turning back. I believe I explained to Max that it wasn’t like someone dumping a glass of water on the floor. He didn’t listen to me, hence the dog is still here. Come on, let’s get you to the clinic.”

“No!” Rachel forced herself to sit up. She held on to Stef. “I have to get back to Jen.”

Stef felt the air around him go cold. “What’s wrong with Jennifer?”

Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but her body wasn’t her own again. A low wail came out. “Fuck. I hate this. I hate this. Please, I want my husbands. Please.”

“Damn it.” Caleb cursed for a few seconds and got to his feet.

“Stella, we’re having this baby here and now. She’s probably been in labor all day and was too stubborn to admit it.”

“It’s too early. It’s too early,” Rachel said through her tears.

“Please, Stef. They have her.”

“Who?” Stef was trying to be patient. “Rachel, you have to tell me where Jennifer is and who has her.”

She gritted her teeth as she tried to get up. “Sheriff’s Office. We went to look for Holly, but the place was locked. I knew where the key was, and Alexei took Jen. He pulled her inside, but he let me go.

He was talking to someone. I don’t know how many are inside, but they have the building under their control.” Stef cursed inwardly. If only he’d walked around the front of the building, he might have seen Rachel and gotten to Jen sooner. Habit had brought him to the kitchen entrance. He’d come to Stella’s this way since he’d been a child.

He had known he should have killed the son of a bitch. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He would kill the Russian as soon as he could, and if he could make it painful, it would be for the better.

Rachel doubled over and screamed in pain. Quigley whined and tried to lick her face, offering the only comfort he could. Stef reached over to a table that appeared to have been recently vacated, picked up the half-full glass of coke, and dumped it on the floor beside the dog.

Quigley immediately took off, his huge body easily pushing through the swinging doors.

“There, Rach,” Stef said. “Q will go get Max if we can’t get him on the phone.” He turned to the doctor, who was running antibacterial gel all over his hands and forearms. “I have to go.” Caleb nodded and took Rachel, helping her to stand. “I know. I can’t leave her. Stella is calling Nate, and she’ll call Zane back if she can get him. You’ll have backup.”

Stella rushed forward. “Don’t you dare go after her without this.”

Stella passed her Colt .45 to him. He felt better just having the weight of the gun in his hand. He checked the chamber and pocketed the extra ordnance she gave him. Stella went on her toes and kissed his cheek lightly.

“You come back with her. You understand me? You come back safe,” she said tightly, her eyes glazed with unshed tears. “You’re my boy. I don’t care who gave birth to you. You’re my boy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, a wealth of love for her filling his heart.

She’d been his mother in every way that counted.

His father stepped forward. “Stefan, I’ll come with you.” Stef looked at his father. His frail father was willing to go into god knows what with him. Jennifer had been right. It was past time to forgive him. Sebastian had made mistakes, but he was trying to fix them. One day his father wouldn’t be here, and Stef wouldn’t be able to work anything out. The time to fix things was now. He put his arms around his father. “I appreciate it, Dad. I do, but I’ll move better on my own. Stay here. I’ll come back. Dad, lock the doors after me. Shut the blinds. Unless you know the person, don’t let anyone in. Stella’s is closed for the day.”

Stef nearly ran out the door. In the distance, he could see Max and Rye running down the street from the park, but he didn’t have time to wait and wasn’t sure he should. Their son was about to be born. He couldn’t wait for Nate and Zane. He had to get to Jennifer, and he had to do it fast.

His mind racing with a thousand horrific scenarios, he tried to narrow his focus as he jogged between Stella’s and the gallery beside it. He crossed the street and went behind the town hall to get to the alley behind the buildings. He couldn’t go in the front door. It didn’t make a lick of sense to grab the painting and try to negotiate. The mob didn’t negotiate. And how exactly would he negotiate? No, he had one option and one option alone.

Kill them all.

Stef slowed as he reached the Sheriff’s Office. He thought about the building. Nate’s office was closest, and there was a small bathroom attached. The window was supposed to be permanently shut, but Rye had broken the lock years before during a summer heat wave when the air-conditioning had gone out. On quiet feet, Stef moved toward his destination. What had already happened to Jennifer? What had she gone through?

He forced himself to quell his panic. Rushing in and getting himself killed wouldn’t help Jennifer. He wasn’t sure how many were in the building, but they would all have guns. Mobsters had guns, probably more than one apiece. He would have to be careful and hope that Nate was careful, too. To that end, he quickly pulled out his cell and sent a text. God only knew if Nate would get it. The only sure way to get a hold of him while he was working was to call on his police radio, and the equipment for that was currently surrounded by the mob.

But he doubted they had all the bases covered. They could lock the front and back entrances, but he knew how to work this particular entrance. As quietly as he could, Stef pressed in on the lower pane of the window. His ungloved fingers were bitten by the cold, but he had to move with great care or he might make a sound that would alert them. Jennifer was counting on him. Slowly, surely, he pushed the window open and gripped the sill. It was tight, but he fit, lowering himself to the tiled floor of the bathroom. He could hear someone in the office. Adrenaline pumping through his system, Stef eased the safety off the Colt and listened at the door. He could hear people talking, but couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying. He gently turned the doorknob and opened the door slightly, wincing at the little creak.

Nate’s desk had been trashed. His pictures and files were tossed carelessly to the floor to make way for the body that lay atop it. Bile rose in his throat when he realized the body was in a bloodstained khaki uniform with a silver star on the chest.

Logan.

His chest rose just barely, as though only a thread of life remained.

Stef’s hand tightened on the gun as the outer door opened.

He shrank back, waiting for the perfect time to pounce.

Alexei followed Luka into the small office, his every nerve vibrating with tension. He’d begged Holly to stay calm, whispering into her ear, promising her he would save her. How was he going to save her? Any way he looked at it, he lost, and that meant she would lose as well. The minute he revealed himself to be less than the perfect soldier, he would be killed, and his “woman” would be fair game. If they had time, they would rape her before slitting her throat.

If they did not, then a bullet through the brain would end her very quickly.

Three against one. He had to find a way to even up the odds before he took the chance.

And then Pushkin had thrown it into his lap. He’d told Luka to kill the deputy.

No one would know that Alexei had killed Luka until he walked out of the office, guns blazing. It would give the women time to run.

It would give them a chance. That was all he could ask.

His heart was racing, his hand trembling. He had to do this right, or he would let them down.

“The boy was utterly useless,” Luka said in Russian as he approached the body on the desk.

The deputy’s hands had been bound with the telephone cord. His long legs dangled off the edge of the desk. They were still, so still it scared Alexei. Was the deputy already dead? His face was a bloated mess, seemingly just a mass of blood and bone and tissue with nothing to animate it. Alexei had seen this before, but now it made him sick. This man had done nothing to deserve his pain.