Acceptable Risk - Lynette Eason Page 0,66

and Gavin coughed. “What’s your name?”

“Jonathan.”

“We want to help too,” a young man said, pointing to himself and a girl who looked to be the same age.

“We need to notify the hospital,” Gavin said. “Do you have a picture?”

“Yes, yes. On my phone.” Jonathan snagged it from his back pocket and tapped the screen. A redheaded Opie look-alike popped up. His gap-toothed grin tugged at Sarah’s heart.

“Okay,” Gavin said, “show it to the security guy and let him know what’s going on.” He turned to the teens. “You guys start going room to room.”

They left and Jonathan beelined for the security officer who was at the exit, directing people down the stairs.

“Stay with me, please,” Gavin said. “I’m not feeling good about this whole thing.”

Gavin wasn’t kidding when he said he was antsy about the fire. It was too much of a coincidence that he and Sarah were in the hospital when it broke out, but he couldn’t just walk away from helping a father look for his child. He and Sarah followed the man to the security officer, who directed them to the stairs.

Jonathan flashed the phone at the man. “Did you see this kid come this way?”

The officer leaned in to take a look while the father looked straight at Sarah. All of Gavin’s alarms clanged warning signals. He’d had that happen way too often in Afghanistan to ignore. He gave Sarah’s hand a squeeze and motioned to her to back away. She frowned, but something in his eyes must have signaled her and she nodded.

Two steps back and the man named Jonathan stumbled, went to his knees.

With Sarah behind him, Gavin reached down and grabbed the guy’s bicep. The man jerked, throwing Gavin off-balance at the top of the stairs. He shot over the guy and the first step, his shoulder hitting the edge. Pain radiated. A kick to his ribs stole his breath. Someone screamed. Sarah? More cries from those around him. Hands reached to help, but he was rolling bowling-ball style down the stairs, crashing into those unfortunate enough to be in his path.

He finally came to a painful stop at the bottom of the stairs and for a moment lay there, stunned and hurting, mentally yelling at himself to move. He noticed a young woman beside him, bleeding from a gash on her head.

Sarah. Gavin rolled to his feet and glanced at the top of the stairs. She was gone.

And so was the father of the missing child.

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

The gun pressed into her side, and while fear was very present and real, anger burned a path through her gut. She was very tired of being shot at, kidnapped, held hostage, and threatened.

When Jonathan had given Gavin a kick in the ribs and sent him tumbling down the stairs, Sarah had started after him, only to have the man yank her back by the arm and jam the weapon into her still-healing side.

When he pulled her away from Gavin and she realized he had the weapon, she struggled for a brief moment until he twisted her arm hard enough to make her gasp.

“Try to get away and I won’t shoot you, I’ll shoot someone else. Understood?”

“Understood,” she said through gritted teeth.

They’d slipped away from the security guard and he’d led her back onto the floor, past the nurses’ station, down the hall, and to the next stairwell also flooded with people.

Sarah decided it was either a genius move or a brilliant color of stupid she wasn’t familiar with. Unwilling to risk him being serious about hurting someone, she didn’t try to resist, but one thing she was certain of—she wasn’t leaving the hospital with him. “How did you know we’d be here?” she asked, dodging a young mother and her toddler.

“We’ve been watching you for a while. We know everything about you. It was only a matter of time before you showed up to visit Wilmont in the hospital. Now, keep going.”

We? The firm grip on her upper arm didn’t hurt, but sure had the potential to do so. She was more worried about the weapon pointed at the base of her spine—and keeping her terror under control so she could think. “So, Wilmont was working for you?”

“No. He was just an idiot in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“But how do you know him?”

“Because of his association with you.”

Her association with him? Her only association with him was when he held her hostage and put a gun to her head. Who were these people?

“If

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