Double Exposure. Lenora Worth

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СКАЧАТЬ “Hispanic. Short. Stocky. Wearing a light gray hoodie. He has the hood up.”

       The train’s automated voice announced their pending stop and they slowed to a crawl.

       “I see him,” Ethan said. “When the doors open, I’ll come forward and I want you to run out and get behind me. Okay?”

       “Yes.”

       “I’m gonna hang up now to keep my hands free.”

       She nodded her understanding and slid her phone into her pocket. His hands came to rest at his sides, as he settled into a centered stance, clearly poised and ready for anything. Probably an unconscious habit from years at the FBI.

       She was so thankful for his law-enforcement training. Despite the years they’d been apart, it was immediately obvious how strong and capable he was. He’d probably been a wonderful agent—just as she’d always known he’d be. She wasn’t surprised when she read in the paper that Ethan and his four siblings followed through on their high-school pact. They’d decided to serve in law enforcement to show their appreciation and respect for their adoptive dad, who was a retired cop.

       She was surprised, shocked really, when she read the rest of the article about an intruder murdering their adoptive parents. The local police department couldn’t solve the case so the five of them left their jobs to hunt down the killer and then stayed together to form the Justice Agency.

       If someone wanted to hurt her, she could think of no better allies than Ethan and his siblings.

       Brakes squealed as the train slowed even more. This was it. Time to escape this creep.

       Her palms grew moist. She scrubbed them over her jeans, stained and sooty from the six-alarm fire. She glanced back to check on her tail. He was on the move. Slowly inching toward her.

       “C’mon, open, open, open,” she whispered to the doors, but kept her eyes on him.

       His hand came out of his pocket. Something slid through his palm and between his fingers. Looked like a knife. A switchblade. Closed. But easily opened with a flick of his fingers. He took a few more steps.

       The train jerked to a stop. She lost her balance, wobbled and worked to regain her footing. She braced for the attack she feared was imminent.

       His footfalls thumped slowly across the metal floor.

       Close now. Too close.

      Please, God, please! Let me get to Ethan before this guy hurts me.

       The doors whooshed apart, but not before she heard a click. Not any click, but the distinctive snap of his switchblade opening a whisper of a space behind her back.

      * * *

       Ethan bolted forward. He saw the thug move toward Jennie as she stepped off the train and merged into the crowd. A steady stream of passengers kept Ethan separated from her. The hooded guy kept pace with her.

       “Jen, he’s right behind you,” Ethan yelled as he shoved through the people rushing at him.

       She looked back.

       Everything seemed to unfold in front of Ethan in slow motion.

       The riders’ chatter, their footfalls on concrete were merely a fog of noise as he bumped through them like a pinball in a machine. But he didn’t have the speed of a pinball. He couldn’t move fast enough.

      Please, God. I need to get to her.

       The guy’s hands shot out. One held a knife, the blade glinting in the sun.

       “No-o-o,” Ethan screamed and felt a chill despite the blazing summer sun.

       The guy grabbed her camera bag, worn cross-body. A flick of his knife and he sliced clean through the strap. He gave a powerful tug. Jennie wrapped the strap around her hand and hugged the bag to her chest. They struggled.

       “Stop,” Ethan yelled.

       The guy glanced up. Hard, black eyes warred with a decision. He let go of the bag and bolted away.

       Jennie lurched back and plummeted toward a concrete planter, her head inches from serious injury.

       Ethan sent his body airborne, diving toward the sidewalk. He hit the ground on his side, his breath exploding on impact. He reached out to cradle her body and protect her head, his shoulder sandpapering along rough pavement.

       “Ethan,” she said, her voice soft and vulnerable.

       The planter bit into his back and the sidewalk tore the flesh on his upper arm. He felt the wet flow of blood across his skin as pain screamed into his body. He ignored the sting, clamping his hands on his forearms and holding fast to Jennie.

       Her body rotated as he slid. She groaned.

       A few more feet of his skin burning on concrete and they came to a stop, her back pressed to his chest, his arms circling her waist.

       “You okay?” he whispered, his breath stirring her hair. The sweet scent of fresh coconuts unleashed a flood of memories from the summer they’d shared at the beach.

       “Yes.”

      Thank You, Father.

       A crowd surrounded them, chattering, speculating, her attacker missing in the sea of faces peering down. Ethan released her, coming to his feet in one fluid move to search the crowd for her assailant.

       He spotted him boarding the train just before the doors closed with a solid thud. Keeping him in view until the train eased away, Ethan committed details to memory for the police report. He turned back to Jennie. She’d come to a sitting position, eyes wide. Still frightened. Maybe heading toward shock.

       He wanted to scoop her into his arms. Hold her close, push away her fear and promise to protect her. He fisted his hands instead. Given the way she’d left him that summer between his junior and senior year of college, touching her would likely have the opposite effect of the soothing one he intended. Plus, if he was going to protect her until they located her assailant, he needed to keep things on a professional level.

       He squatted down next to her and kept his tone soft. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

       “Is he gone?” Her gaze tracked up and down the sidewalk.

       “He’s on the train.”

       She shuddered, and her face relaxed a bit.

       “Can you stand?” he asked, hoping to move her out of the curious crowd and inside, away from danger.

       “I think so,” she said, but he could hear doubt in her voice.

       He stood, his body screaming in protest as the adrenaline started to wear off and pain set in. Stifling a groan, he held out his hand, smiling to help ease the terror lodged on her face.

       Icy fingers slipped into his, her other hand still clutching the camera case. Their eyes met. Ten years melted away to that balmy summer night at his family’s beach house in Seaside and his parents’ СКАЧАТЬ