11:47 A.M. (LOCAL TIME)
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
Stepping sideways, getting further behind the backhoe to shield his eyes from the sun that had peeked out from a dark cloud, Randall squinted at the scene playing out inside the home.
The tall man ended a call, slid the phone into a pocket, and shoved Faith.
She tripped and landed face first on a couch.
Devlin: “Talk to me, Randall. What’s happening?”
The shorter, stockier man approached Faith from behind.
“Are they letting her go?”
The man curled fingers into the waistband of her shorts and wrenched the loose-fitting garment off her body.
“I don’t...” Randall drew his Walther, “think...” He set his jaw. They’re going to rape her. “I have to go.”
“Rand—”
He clicked off and raced to the back of the house, his mind formulating a hasty plan that involved a surprise attack through the back door.
*******
Staring at her firm butt, Linebacker balled up her shorts and tossed them aside.
Completely nude, Faith flopped onto her back, brought knees to her chest, and thrust her heels into Linebacker’s groin.
Bowing, covering himself with both hands, he backpedaled before rearing up and reversing course. “You,” he cursed. “I’ll—”
Mason planted a hand on the other man’s chest, stopping him. “I told you. You get what’s left over...after I’m done with her.”
The men exchanged heated glances before Mason jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Go bring the car around. I want to be gone as soon as we’re done here.”
Still holding his smarting testicles, Linebacker glowered at Faith and stormed out of the room a beat later.
Alone with his prey, Mason drew closer to Faith.
She kicked out her legs.
He redirected them and pounced onto the sofa, landing on her and pinning her to the furniture.
Her hands still tied behind her back, her long frame curled up into a ball underneath him, she fought back.
He gained the upper hand, bent the bound woman over an arm of the couch, and stood behind her.
Panting, near exhaustion, her energy reserves drained from lack of nourishment, she heard a zipping noise come from her six o’clock. I can’t believe this. She let her body go limp.
“That’s right. Don’t fight it.”
How could you let this, her inner voice trailed off.
“Just relax, Ms. Mahoney.”
This is all your fault, Faith. Bracing for the inevitable, her right cheek laying on the seat cushion, she shut her eyes. You should’ve fought harder.
*******
The hairs on the back of his neck rising at the sight of a wide-open back door, Randall inspected the thick woods behind the house before creeping through the doorway.
Once inside, he noted steps to his left, steps leading to a basement. No time to clear it. He faced forward. Faith needs you.
Fearing a surprise assault from behind, his stomach muscles contracting, he advanced through a vacant mudroom and dining room before stopping at an archway. Glancing up a flight of carpeted stairs on his port side, he listened before squinting down a darkened hallway on his three o’clock and spying closed doors on both sides.
“Who knows?”
Randall whipped his head toward his twelve o’clock, toward a man’s voice.
“You might even enjoy this.”
Recalling what he had witnessed from the front yard, that Faith was moments away from being violated, he gripped his gun tighter, crossed the hallway, zigzagged through an empty room, and crept down another hallway.
“I know I will definitely enjoy it.”
Coming to a wide entrance on his right, Randall slowed. His mind making calculations, he estimated this was the room he had been peering into from outside—the living room—the location where the assault was taking place. His gun up and close to his chest, he sidestepped left to see into the space. His mind still expecting a blow to the back of the head, or something worse, he shot a look to his right and faced forward again.
“I’m not sure there’ll be anything left over for my friend, though.”
With each lateral half pace, Randall got a better view of the forthcoming sexual crime.
Facing him, her eyes closed, her head on a cushion, her hands tied behind her back, Faith was hunched over the sofa’s padded arm. Behind her, a man was preparing himself for the attack.
Randall glimpsed the woman, and his heart sunk. Until now, she had only been a photo with a name, an assignment. Now, seeing her up close, noticing the uncanny resemblance to someone he did know, someone he cared about, Devlin, he saw Faith Mahoney in a new light. And, seeing one of Devlin’s family members in this condition, made his temperature rise, made him clench his teeth.
He raised his Walther higher and lined up the front sight with the aggressor’s left ear. Thinking of the report the gun would make, and not knowing the second criminal’s whereabouts, he moved his finger from the trigger back to the frame and inched forward.
*******
Sensing another presence in the room, expecting to see Linebacker waiting for his turn with her, Faith opened her eyes and hope rushed into her soul.
Mason clutched her hips, his nails digging into skin.
Her spirit getting a surge of renewal at the sight of a man in a suit pointing a weapon at her soon-to-be rapist, she twisted her wrists against her restraints. Help yourself out of this mess, Faith. Help HIM help you.
Mason pulled her toward him.
She went with the motion, arched her back, stood up, and lunged forward. As the top of her right thigh hit the armrest, she twisted her upper body counterclockwise and threw out her left leg, delivering a vicious donkey kick to the predator’s genitalia.
Groaning, grabbing himself, he staggered backward.
Landing on her face and chest, unable to move, her legs hanging off the armrest, Faith lay on her stomach thinking of the man in the suit, hoping she had given him an edge in the coming battle.
*******
Recognizing an opportunity, Randall charged and hit Mason with a left cross to the head.
Stunned, Mason backed into a wall. Shaking free the cobwebs, he absorbed a punch to the gut and doubled over before spotting and grabbing the other man’s gun.
Still not wanting to fire his weapon and alert anyone else, Randall lowered his elbow three times onto the deputy marshal’s back.
Mason spun Randall around, drove the intruder into the wall, and pummeled his midsection.
Fending off the blows with his free hand, Randall eyed a couch pillow on the floor.
One of Mason’s fists penetrated the other man’s defenses.
The air leaving Randall’s lungs, he grunted while glimpsing his gun. This is nuts, Noah. You’re fighting with one arm tied behind your back. Another punch found his ribs, sending a shock wave of pain up the left side of his torso. Time to end this. He curled his left arm around Mason’s neck, getting him in a front headlock, and forced him to his knees.
Mason cocked his right arm.
Hooking the arm with his left elbow, Randall rolled his opponent, did a one-eighty, straddled the man’s chest, and pistol-whipped him twice, opening a two-inch gash on the kidnapper’s temple.
Blood sprayed the floor and speckled Randall’s suit coat.
Randall grabbed the pillow he had seen earlier, covered Mason’s face, touched the Walther’s muzzle to the cushion, and worked the trigger twice.
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
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