Holding his Hostage - Amy Gamet Page 0,2

fingers locking painfully around her upper arm.

“Let go of me!” She yanked her arm, but he kept his hold.

“Money that needs to be returned.”

Her eyes shot to the spot where the police detective had been standing, but he’d walked to the winding cemetery road and was getting into an SUV. There were no mourners left, Bannon and Joanne the last ones around, and she wondered where McKenzie had gone. She swallowed against her dry throat. “How much money?”

“Two-point-three million.”

She gasped. “I don’t have it. I don’t know anything about any money.”

“He didn’t take it with him, which means it’s somewhere on this side of the great beyond. I need your help to find it.”

“You don’t understand. We were getting a divorce. He didn’t share money with me. We didn’t share anything.”

“Except your children.” He turned her so she faced the vehicle. “Look at them. It would be such a shame if anything happened to one of them.”

A trickle of fear ran down her spine. “Are you threatening me?” His clawlike fingers dug into her flesh. April stared back at her with wide, worried eyes, the yellow of Lucas’s coat just barely visible behind her.

“I prefer to think of it as motivating you to do the right thing.”

“You wouldn’t hurt them,” she whispered.

“Like I didn’t hurt your husband?”

Her mouth fell open, her stare fixed on the dilated pupils of his eyes, wolflike and predatory. Was this the last thing David had seen? This monster of a man bearing down on him, demanding money? David had been shot, his body burned beyond recognition as his hunting cabin went up in flames around him.

If Bannon killed David, he was capable of terrible things. The vision changed, Bannon now holding young Lucas in his clutches, and her heart skipped a beat as terror flooded her nervous system.

“You have one week, Joanne.” He lowered his voice. “You get me my money, or the oldest one dies.”

The detective’s SUV rounded the corner, heading toward them. Bannon looked from her to the vehicle and back again and growled, “You go to the police or the feds, and I’ll kill all three. You got that?”

He released her. She watched helplessly as the detective passed her minivan and drove away.

“We’ll be watching you, Mrs. Regan. Now go find my money.”

2

Joanne gripped the steering wheel tightly, the slick snow-covered roadway glowing in the dim light of dusk as they got close to home. Her skin prickled, dry air from the heating vent blowing in her face, and she was sure she would never be warm ever again.

Lucas and April bickered, but she wasn’t listening. Fear was a funny thing. It had the power to immobilize you, or to force the weakest muscles into profound action worthy of an Olympic athlete. She was waiting to see which reaction would prevail.

She’d grown up in a house of fear, never knowing what the day would bring. Times like these, when fear tucked itself tightly between her collarbone and heart, she relied on her upbringing to fuel her race to safety.

But this was different. How the hell was she going to find that money? For nearly four hundred days, she’d been painstakingly untangling her life from David’s, a slow and difficult process that couldn’t be undone.

“Who was that man?” asked April.

“Someone your dad worked with.”

“He grabbed your arm.”

“He was upset.”

“Why?”

“Who knows why people do things, April? It’s a difficult time for us all.” She drove by the police station, wishing she could walk inside and find safety, but she knew in her heart all safety was gone.

“I think he’s following us.”

Their eyes met. Joanne adjusted the rearview mirror. She hadn’t been paying attention, and she cursed herself. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She turned onto a two-lane road that led to her property outside of town and sped up, watching as the car behind her followed suit. Her hands broke out in a sweat. “Just the man, or the woman, too?”

“I don’t know.”

I’ll be watching you.

This man had killed David; now he was after her. She needed help, her mind desperately searching for anyone she could turn to and coming up empty. Perhaps the police could protect them, but would they even believe her? That detective seemed to think she was a murderer. That definitely wasn’t a chance she could take.

Jo turned onto their street, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard it was difficult to move the wheel. She couldn’t catch her breath, the anxiety that was her constant companion now spiraling into a full-fledged