Riptide

Thomas said very slowly, “So that’s what McBride had to say to you. Krimakov kidnapped Sam and had McBride call the director to find you and have you call him.”

“No,” she said. “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Valium, she thought. She’d just killed Sam, just killed her father, God knew who else, all because of one damned Valium.

Adam was on his feet. “Where’s your address book? I’m going to call McBride, find out what’s going on here.”

“No,” she said, jumping up to grab his arm. “No, you can’t, Adam.”

“Why the hell not?”

25

The room was dead silent.

“No, you can’t have my address book.”

“Fine. I’ll call information.” Adam walked toward the phone. “We’ve got to know exactly what’s going on here.”

Becca didn’t say another word. She ran out of the living room, grabbed her purse from the table in the entryway, and made for the front door.

“Becca! Dammit, come back here!”

She heard Adam yelling but didn’t pay any attention. She heard her father’s voice, then Special Agent Cobb’s voice. She didn’t slow. She was out on the narrow front porch before Adam reached the entryway.

She heard all of them shouting at her, ru

There were no sidewalks in this very nice neighborhood, just big lawns, thick curbs, and the road. She hit the road. She was fast, always had been since she was on the track team in high school. She put her head down, turned off all the voices, and ran. She felt the breath pumping in and out of her lungs, felt herself filling with energy, with power, expanding, moving faster, faster. Her feet in Nikes were unbeatable.

She ran right into Sherlock. Both women went down.

Becca was on her feet in an instant. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

“Stop her!”

Sherlock grabbed her ankle and pulled. Becca went down on the edge of a lawn, hitting her hip on the curb. A shaft of sharp pain went through her, but she ignored it. She was ready to fight, ready to do whatever she had to, but Sherlock had somehow managed to straddle her, how she didn’t know, but she’d been fast, too fast, and now she was holding her arms down. How could she be so strong when she was so small, hardly anything to her at all? How did she get her in this position so quickly? Sherlock was leaning over her, her curly red hair bouncing against Becca’s face. “What’s going on here, Becca?”

“Get off me, Sherlock. Please, you’ve got to let me go. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me, so don’t even try. Tell me what’s happened.”

Becca started struggling, but then it just didn’t matter, and she stilled because Adam was there, not even panting hard, standing over them, staring down at her, his hands on his hips. “Thanks for bringing her down, Sherlock. That wasn’t very smart, Becca.”

Sherlock didn’t like this one bit. She looked at all the men ru

Becca looked at that slender white hand that was surely too strong, but she didn’t move. She just rolled over away from them, grabbed her purse, and was off again. A sharp pain went through her hip but she ignored it.

She got at least ten feet before two arms went around her waist and she was picked up, twirled around, and thrown over a man’s shoulder. She hit her chin against his back. “Hold still,” he said, and his voice was calm and quiet. Too calm, too quiet.

Sherlock was one thing. Having a big guy haul her over his shoulder was another. It was humiliating. “Bullshit,” she yelled, and jerked and pulled and kicked. “All right,” he said, and pulled her down. He brought her back up against him, wrapped his arms around her, and held on tight. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get free. He’d pi

Three hours, she thought. Time was ru

“I’ll tell you after you promise not to run away again.”

She leaned down and bit his hand, hard. He didn’t make a single sound, just jerked her around to face him and said, “I’m sorry, Becca,” and lightly tapped his fist against her jaw. It was the strangest feeling. It didn’t really hurt, but she saw a whole skyful of white lights, popping all over her brain, then it was as if someone switched off the lights. Just nothing. She slumped against him.

“She’s a fighter,” he said to Sherlock, who was standing beside him as he picked Becca up in his arms. He looked at the back of his hand. At least he wasn’t bleeding, but he could see the row of even teeth marks. That had been close, too close. But now he had her, thank God. She was too thin, he thought, as he carried her back. She didn’t weigh enough; well, he’d see to that. He’d force food down her gullet if he had to. He frowned as he realized she was a fast ru

“What’s going on here, Adam?” Suddenly Sherlock was right in his face, and she wasn’t going to move. He couldn’t very well clip her on the chin. She’d probably flatten him. Since she was married to Savich, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had a black belt, maybe two.

He said, “Krimakov kidnapped Sam McBride. Come on back to the house and we’ll let everyone know what’s happening. She promised McBride that she wouldn’t tell anyone. However, when Agent Cobb gave her some Valium to relax her so he could hypnotize her, she inadvertently spilled the beans. She did go under. Then it all came out.”

“This is insane,” said Sherlock. “That maniac kidnapped Sam? Let me get ahold of Savich. I can’t believe this. Is that guy everywhere?” She stepped away and pulled the cell phone out of her purse.

The agents who’d been watching the house were now standing next to Thomas and agents Hawley and Cobb.

They parted from his path and Adam carried Becca back into the house, not saying another word. He hoped no neighbors in this lovely neighborhood had seen this bizarre action and called the cops.

“I hope you didn’t hurt her,” Thomas said, right on his heels.

“She nearly bit my hand off,” Adam said.

“Yeah, but you brought her down.”

“No, that was Sherlock. I just clamped my arms around her.”

“You weren’t gentle enough.”

“Thomas, what did you want me to do, lie down and let her stomp on me before she ran another four-minute mile?”

“Yeah, Adam,” Agent Hawley said. “She got you good, but it’s not bleeding. Good straight teeth. Put her down on the couch.”

Thomas covered her with an afghan Allison had given him some seven years before. He didn’t realize it was quite hot, since they’d left the front door wide open and all the cold air had seeped out.

“I was careful,” Adam said, but he was sitting beside her, lightly touching her jaw where he’d hit her. “She shouldn’t even bruise. Listen, Thomas, she was going to run and run until we brought her down. She would have fought me until I might have hurt her by accident. She wasn’t thinking.”