Countdown. Heather Woodhaven

NSA.”

      Her forehead crinkled. “The NSA?”

      “National Security Agency.” James didn’t have time to explain his career history. “I have a contact there that I need to reach before complicating matters by going to the police.”

      “James.” Her voice came out as a plea, soft yet powerful enough to make his stomach flip. “Are you sure?”

      He hung his head. “No.” He raised his eyes to meet hers. “But do you really want to take the risk I’m wrong? Please close your windows and lock your doors. Get your stuff, and we’ll talk at my place.”

      He turned and left the way he came—out the back door—before she could ask any more questions. He stepped onto the lush grass, grabbed the top of the fence and lifted himself up and over into his own yard.

      “You could’ve used the front door.” Her voice reached him through the open windows.

      “Close your windows and pack,” he hollered back. He slipped the keys out of his pants’ pocket, unlocked his back door and went inside.

      “Ethan? Caleb?”

      “Daddy, can we have pizza now?” Ethan’s voice filtered through the secret door.

      His shoulders dropped and he smiled. They seemed fine, but for how long? He ran downstairs to hug his boys and tell them it was time to leave.

       FOUR

      Rachel’s home, once a comfort, now seemed empty and full of shadows. Her heart raced. The cops were long gone. The neighborhood grew quiet with only the hum of nearby traffic wafting through the trees.

      The NSA? Maybe she didn’t know her neighbor as well as she thought. Did she really need to get out her suitcase? Could she ignore him and live with the possibility that he was right?

      Another burst of wind through the windows prompted her into action. She’d already locked the front door. Of course, the back door had been locked, but James had made short work of that when he’d burst through to save her.

      While grateful, she saw it as a sign that she needed a dead bolt installed on the back door, as well. And without a car, the best she would be able to do in the way of security for the night would be to place a chair underneath the doorknob.

      Her hand froze over the kitchen window. How had the kidnapper gotten inside in the first place?

      She shoved and locked the windows, going as quickly as she could throughout the house. She stumbled in the hallway to a halt. The kidnapper’s knife had gouged her kitchen floor. The reality of what had almost happened made her heart race. Suddenly lounging alone on the couch sounded like the least appealing thing in the world.

      She forced herself to continue her walk-through. In her peripheral vision something seemed off. She placed a hand on the door frame of the bathroom. The window screen had been ripped from top to bottom.

      Her breathing quickened. She gulped and took short steps closer to the window. She lifted her chin and leaned forward to see outside. The flowering bushes below the window—something she used to find beautiful—now seemed like nothing more than a place for a man to hide.

      Her fingers drifted across the rough edges of the screen. So that was how he’d gotten inside. Had the kidnapper watched her from afar? Seen James drop her off? Seen her laughing with the boys about pizza and ice cream? A shiver ran down her spine. The familiar sensation she’d become all too accustomed to as a child returned—an instinct she’d promised herself she’d never ignore.

      She wasn’t safe.

      She shoved the window closed and ran down the hall. Rachel flung open the coat closet and grabbed a baseball bat. She lunged up the stairs, two steps at a time. She peeked behind each door and underneath her bed before she grabbed a backpack and filled it.

      While she’d promised herself she’d never trust or depend on a man, this wasn’t the same. James would take her somewhere safe... Although at the moment she couldn’t think of a place to go. Surely she would think of somewhere by the time they left.

      Five minutes flat and Rachel was ready to leave. She grabbed her purse and slung it diagonally across her torso on her way out the front door. Oh, how she wished her car wasn’t out of commission. Her jaw clenched. She should’ve insisted on a ride to a rental place before coming home, and then she wouldn’t have to rely on a man—a man that had a lot of explaining to do.

      Rachel opened the front door and peeked behind the bushes lining the porch. The sun hung low in the sky. Pale blues, pinks and violets outlined the clouds. She used to love this time of day, but now it created shadows underneath the trees. Were her eyes playing tricks on her, or were those really just shadows?

      She took a deep breath and darted behind the giant oak separating their houses. Squeezing past the lilac bush, she made it to his front patio. With a look over her shoulder, she rang the doorbell.

      A shadow crossed the peephole before the front door opened wide. James surveyed the area behind her. “You’re fast. Good. Come on in.” He’d changed into a soft-looking Henley the color of a night sky, faded jeans and sneakers. She’d never seen him look so...casual. Even on days she knew he worked from home, he at least wore tan pants and a collared shirt. His glance moved to the bat still in her hands.

      Her cheeks heated. “You made me nervous.” She shook her head. “Well, the kidnapper made me nervous, but you—”

      “I get it.” He nodded solemnly. “I wasn’t critiquing.”

      Rachel stepped past him into the living room. The warm muted colors on the walls made her think of a cabin in the woods on a fall day. A leather couch, a navy-cloth recliner, a thick wooden coffee table and a big-screen television furnished the living room. A décor fit for an all-male house. “Nice place.”

      He surveyed the room as if he hadn’t noticed. “Thanks, uh, yours was, too. I would’ve said something but—”

      She tried to smile but failed. “You were a little busy.”

      James closed the door and flipped the dead bolt. “So, have you figured out where to go?”

      She blinked. “Where to go?”

      “Do you have some family in town you can visit?”

      The very word—family—caused her jaw to clench. A family man like James probably didn’t understand the only reason she counted herself among upstanding citizens was that she’d escaped from her relatives. “Uh, no.”

      She slipped the bat into the opening in her backpack and crossed her arms. “I need you to tell me what’s going on before I decide where you’ll drop me off.”

      “Fair enough.” James looked over her head. She turned around to follow his gaze. Through the opening of the curtains she could see a nondescript black sedan pull to a stop. “Do you know anyone who drives a sedan like that?”

      “Uh, no.”

      His eyes narrowed. “I don’t, either.” James stepped to the intercom panel next to the door and pressed a button. “Boys, game time. Let’s see how fast you can get back down to my office. Remember to bring your backpacks. Ready?”

      He let go of the button. “Yeah,” little voices hollered through the speaker.

      James pressed the button. “Set. Go.” He crossed over to the bookshelves and put his hands on the middle shelf and pulled. “I have an important phone call to make before we talk.” The right side of the bookshelves swung open, revealing a stairway.

      Rachel’s jaw dropped. “That’s the coolest basement door I’ve ever seen.”

      The floor vibrated as a herd of elephants approached. Rachel spun around. How such little feet could make so much noise was beyond her comprehension.