Tess Gerritsen - Double Impact

The woman’s knock on the door snapped Ami from her fleeting fantasy.

She stood stock-still as the knock came again. No one stormed up the cellar stairs. No one came running into the room from some other part of the house. Nothing.

Anticipation soared through her. This could be her chance. The reminder of what had happened during her last escape attempt had dread, as well as the milk she’d drunk, curdling in her stomach despite the seed of hope sown by the anticipation. She couldn’t just stand there. Ami moistened her lips and summoned her courage. She walked straight over to the door, held her breath and pulled it open. No alarm sounded. She frowned, remembering the security system.

Before she could ponder that oddity further, recognition slammed into her.

Fran Woodard stood on the other side of the threshold, a pleasant smile stretched across her Katharine Hepburn good looks. “Good morning, ma’am,” she said in a strong Southern drawl that startled Ami almost as much as her unexpected appearance. The woman she’d met before had spoken alternately with an authentic French accent and a vague Midwestern twang.

“What’re you doing here?” Ami demanded, glancing quickly around her. Her heart thundered into overdrive, pushing a new blast of adrenaline through her veins and an unholy fear up her spine. Maybe the alarm was silent…most systems had that option, didn’t they? If Carlos or one of the others discovered this woman here-

Fran made a magnanimous gesture with one hand. “Darling, I’m a member of the Texas Christian Ambassador Program and I’m here to save your soul.” She kept that brilliant smile pinned in place as she added under her breath, “Invite me in.”

Ami jerked at the fiercely muttered order. She nodded and quickly stepped back. “Please,” she said, a little too loudly, a little too stiffly, “won’t you come in?”

“Don’t overdo it, honey,” Fran chided softly.

Ami nodded again, the movement spasmodic. “I’m not sure your program is for me.” Her voice quivered just the slightest bit, but she did manage to keep her own smile plastered in place.

“Well, dear, there’s a place for everyone at T.C.A.P.” She reached in her case and withdrew a brochure. “We believe that all people are God’s children.” She eased closer to Ami and opened the brochure as if to show off its colorful pages. “Arad has a mission in two days,” Fran whispered, nodding and pointing to the pages as if that were the subject of their hushed conversation. “Tanner has all the specifics already. All you have to do is lay low and then insist on going with Arad. Keep him distracted. Our people will take care of the rest.”

Ami’s heart beat violently. The blood roared deafeningly in her ears. This was it…her last chance.

“I can’t do this,” she admitted in a rush, despite her fear of what the admission would cost her. She couldn’t. She simply couldn’t do what they wanted. Tears filled her eyes and she prayed this woman would somehow understand. “You have to help me,” she pleaded, desperation mounting. “I need to get back to my son.”

Fran’s smile sagged just a fraction and the subtlest shift in her eyes told Ami that she sympathized at least to some degree. “They’re going to kill him,” she whispered gravely, confirming what Ami already knew. “There’s nothing any of us can do to stop that. His number’s up. They need him out of the way for whatever is next on the agenda.”

Ami clamped down on her bottom lip to hold back the cry of anguish that burgeoned in her throat. There had to be a way to save him. She grabbed onto her courage with both hands. “I won’t help them do it. I can’t.”

The older woman’s eyes searched hers for two long beats. “Well,” she finally said beneath her breath, “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Do what you have to.” She folded her brochure and manufactured that ten-thousand-watt smile once more. “I’m so sorry to hear that, sugar,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “We all turn to God sooner or later.” She moved toward the door. “Thanks so much for your kind hospitality.”

Ami followed her onto the portico, uncertain what to do next. Would she tell Tanner that Ami had refused to cooperate? What about her son? “Will you be back?” she asked, her voice shaking now. “What will they do?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be back this way, dear,” she said with exaggerated regret in that Gone With the Wind voice that would have made Scarlett herself proud.

Ami shook her head, unbearable desperation sucking at her ability to stay calm. “What about my baby? I don’t know what to do? Michal can’t be what they say he is.”

“Your child is safe,” Fran said quickly, glancing covertly from side to side. “As for the other.” She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a black, leather-bound copy of the Bible. “Study it, darling.” She thrust the book at Ami, smiling widely again. “There’s nothing better for the soul.” Her gaze latched onto Ami’s. “Read Revelation 19:11. The truth is there…seek and ye shall find.”

Ami stood rooted to the spot, too stunned to call out after her as she hurried away, too afraid that Carlos would be standing right behind her to move. She clutched the Bible close to her heart and prayed that Fran Woodard would stand by her word and keep her secret.

Ami couldn’t betray Michal.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Carlos jerked her back across the threshold, peering out, instantly noting the car leaving a trail of dust as it sped down the long, curving slope.

A new kind of fear roared through Ami’s veins. She stared up at the evil man manacling her arm and saw the sheer hatred in his eyes.

“A missionary,” she stuttered. “She…left me…this.” She held out the Bible, her fingers suddenly ice-cold.

The rest of the men filed out of the kitchen and into the entry hall where she and Carlos stood.

Ami looked from him to those passing through on their way to the great room and realization hit her like a physical blow. Carlos and the others-all of the others-had been in the cellar. With Michal gone there was only one reason why he would rally the men into a secret meeting.

“Planning a little coup?” she said, her tone openly accusing as fury replaced the fear she had felt only seconds before.

“Shut up, whore!” He shook her hard, sending a shard of pain through her middle, then kicked the front door closed, no doubt for deafening sound effects. “I have only one plan.”

Uneasiness slid through her again.

He yanked her closer and sneered down at her. “Getting the truth out of you.” He glared at the others. “Make sure the security system is activated this time, you fools.”

Leaving the rest of the men standing there in stunned silence, Carlos dragged her into the kitchen and shoved her against the table, sending a chair toppling over. Trying to catch herself, the Bible slipped from her hand and flew across the floor. She prayed Michal would return. Carlos had been looking for an excuse to hurt her…he would use the woman’s visit as the reason.

Ami braced herself against the table, buying time as she desperately searched for a weapon within reach. She suddenly wished there had been a weapon tucked in the Bible that Fran had given her. Her jaw hardened and a zing of something like anticipation went through her, awakening a primal survival instinct. She couldn’t just let him kill her, she had to stop him. Her gaze landed on the only thing within reach.

Before she could grab the coffee mug abandoned on the other side of the table, he jerked her around to face him. “Who are you working for?” he demanded, his fingers biting into the flesh of her arms.

She cried out before she could stop herself. Her pain only fueled his bloodlust. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The anger she’d enjoyed froze into absolute fear.