A Groom Worth Waiting For. Crystal Stovall

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СКАЧАТЬ clerk behind the checkout counter instantly looked up and said hello. An easy-to-read name badge identified him as Hank.

      Amy returned his friendliness with a smile and then shook her arms and shoulders as if she were part feline. Rubbing her upper arms with her palms, she attempted to warm herself. While the hooded sweatshirt and fleece pants were comfortable, they weren’t quite warm enough for the cold front that had moved through the city the night before. However, her warmer clothes were in storage, and since the chilly weather wasn’t expected to last more than a day or two, it hadn’t seemed worth the trouble to retrieve her coat.

      Realizing she was the only customer in the store, Amy said, “It looks like the construction has hurt your business.”

      “Not really,” Hank said. “You just missed the morning rush. We’ve been here for years. Our customers won’t let a little inconvenience scare them away.”

      “That’s great,” Amy said. “Where do you stack today’s paper?”

      “In the aisle to your right.” Hank watched as she selected a newspaper, turning away only to answer the telephone.

      With the paper tucked under her arm, Amy headed for the back of the store, intending to grab a soda until she spotted a cappuccino machine. Even though she wasn’t crazy about convenience store coffee, the thought of drinking something hot cheered her. At the same time she set an empty to-go cup in the machine and pushed the proper sequence of buttons, the front door opened and the loud buzzer sounded again. As Hank had with her, he looked up from his paperwork and greeted the stranger.

      “Hello,” he called, watching the man in the tailored suit just as he’d observed Amy.

      Making his way down the aisle with hurried strides, the confident-eyed man asked, “How fresh is the coffee?”

      “The pot just finished brewing and the bagels were delivered first thing this morning,” Hank assured him.

      It wasn’t until the tall stranger turned the corner that Amy realized he was headed straight for her.

      “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff,” he said, pointing to the coffee, milk and sugar mixture that streamed into her cup. Picking up a glass coffeepot, he poured himself a cup of regular coffee and selected a sesame seed bagel.

      Amy shrugged, thinking that if the man really wanted to strike up a conversation, he could have opened with something a little more friendly. Removing the steaming coffee cup from the machine, she took a sip and smiled at the stranger as if this were the best cappuccino she’d ever tasted.

      But it wasn’t, and Amy turned away to hide her grimace just as the door buzzer sounded again and two men dressed in gray work uniforms entered. As the clerk called out his greeting, Amy felt a measure of safety knowing Hank was alert and observant. It only took one more sip to convince her she couldn’t finish the drink. Like the handsome stranger had said, it was awful. But it was warm. Pressing the paper cup against the side of her neck, she enjoyed the warm print it left on her skin. For the first time all morning, she felt a moment of relief.

      Everything will work out, she told herself. Somehow, she would put her life back together. She’d find another job and an even better apartment. But as for men, it would be a long time, if ever, before she trusted her heart to anyone.

      Moving the cup across her forehead and down her cheek, Amy reveled in the heat. Sensing the stranger beside her move, she stepped to the left to avoid a collision. Before she could look up, she felt the man’s hand cover her mouth at the same instant he yanked the coffee cup from her hand and tossed it to the floor.

      From the front of the store, she heard someone call, “I’ll check the rest of the store to make sure we’re alone.”

      Held tightly against the stranger’s chest, she didn’t have time to think as he pulled her around the pyramid of motor oil cans, just missing a perfectly balanced stack of cheese crackers.

      She struggled, making little impact against the man’s grip. With his hand clamped across her mouth, he pinned her head against his hard chest. When she tried to scream, she found she could barely open her mouth enough to breathe, let alone to bite him.

      The last thing she glimpsed as he backed through the vertical blinds that hung in the narrow opening between the retail space and the storeroom was her newspaper and cappuccino splattered across the beige tile floor and a man at the front of the store pointing a gun at the clerk who’d been so nice to her.

      Though the man in the suit continued to hold her firmly, Amy didn’t stop struggling. If only she could break free. If only she could make a run for the door.

      Oh, God, she prayed, help me. Protect me. Please, Lord, let me get out of this alive.

      The storeroom was dim and cool, and the stranger who’d preferred his coffee black and fresh steered her to a back corner.

      “You can trust me,” he whispered.

      Amy didn’t move a muscle. Not even to breathe.

      Trust him? She didn’t trust any man, let alone someone who’d just abducted her. And how did she know he wasn’t part of the plan? That he wasn’t a foil for the man holding the gun?

      In an instant, Amy recalled every talk show and news story she’d ever seen that had given tips on how to survive a threatening attack. Listen to your instinct. Fear is your built-in radar detector, she remembered a safety expert saying.

      Amy believed that the inner radar detector was really God’s voice. However, for the last month she’d been so mad at God she’d given Him the silent treatment. She wasn’t too sure she could depend on His help. And besides, her heart was beating so loudly she didn’t know if she could hear His voice even if He shouted at her.

      “You have to trust me. It’s our only chance,” the man whispered as he quietly guided them along the back wall. He moved with a certainty that suggested he knew where he was and where he was headed.

      Amy had no choice but to move with him. Together, they stumbled a few steps, and when her feet didn’t move in unison with his, he lifted her and pulled her into a tiny closet.

      No sooner had they reached the hiding place than the light in the storeroom flashed on and they heard the squeak of rubber shoes on the tile floor. Doors were flung open, but in his haste the man overlooked the narrow closet door. Then the light flashed off and they heard the squeaky-soled man yell, “No one in the back.”

      Though darkness engulfed them, Amy’s eyes adjusted quickly to the lack of light. The square closet was cramped and filled with mops, brooms and pungent cleaning products. Because the stranger had backed in first, Amy faced the door, which was open just a crack. The only light, a narrow beam, came from a high, tiny barred window on a far wall.

      “If you promise not to scream, I’ll remove my hand.”

      Amy swallowed hard. Blood raced through her veins and perspiration dripped from her brows. Could she trust this man?

      Something deep inside her said yes.

      Besides, what choice did she have?

      The more time elapsed, the more she became convinced the stranger who held her tightly was as much a victim as she was. Nodding slowly, Amy silently promised she wouldn’t yell for help.

      Hesitantly, СКАЧАТЬ