Justin Duma had been following Nicole Closs, just as Kris had requested. He watched as she made it look like she was entering Santaland, but circled around to ambush Collins. Well played … except that she should have paid more attention to her children.
When Duma saw the predator making a move for them, he made a mad dash. But he was too late. So he did the next best thing—trying to cut off her path to the escalator.
“Get out of my way,” she warned.
“Sorry, Jacqueline … looks like you’ve brought a knife to a gunfight. Let them go and I’ll let you walk out of here in one piece.”
“No need for a gun when a scarf will do.” She slid her scarf off and wrapped it around the neck of the scared-looking, redheaded boy named Peter. “If you’re still standing there when I count to three, I’m going to snap his neck.”
Duma didn’t move. During his career as an NFL defensive lineman he used to obsessively study his opponents, to the point that he could predict their next move before they even made it. And the common trait embodied by all the great running backs he went up against was patience. They would take that extra second or two to wait for their blockers.
In this case, the extra seconds gave Wintry the time she needed to get to the woman, and she hit her with a perfect form tackle. They fell to the ground, with Wintry’s granny wig falling off in the process.
Wasting no time, Duma moved in. He grabbed the children and slung them over his shoulders. He rarely got to carry the ball during his playing days, but now he was on offense and heading for the goal line. He gripped on tight—he wasn’t going to fumble.
He glanced back to see Agent Falcone of the FBI arrive on the scene. But he got too close to Wintry, and she hit him with the classic stripping move—whipping her leg around him and pulling him into a straddle with her impressive lower-body strength. She pretended that they’d accidentally got their legs entangled as she struggled with Jacqueline. Like most of the dancers she oversaw at the club, she wasn’t a very good actor.
But it gave Duma enough time to make it to the escalator. He pushed his way through the crowd. Most people looked frightened by the oncoming train in a Santa suit, but the kids in his arms had gotten over their initial shock, and their smiles said they were now enjoying the ride. The boy, especially.
With the end zone in sight, he took one last look back to make sure he was in the clear. He then ran for the goal line.