“What? How the hell did you get him to agree to that? What’s going on, Rachel?”
“He’s going to keep me as his hostage, and his daughter is remaining with him as well.”
She was careful not to piss Jennifer’s father off by suggesting that Jennifer, too, was a hostage. Even if that’s exactly what she was. In his own twisted way, he cared a great deal for his daughter, and if that love was called into question, who knew how he’d react? At this point, Rachel was doing nothing to jeopardize the release of her students. She just wanted it done as quickly as possible.
“Oh hell no, Rachel. You can’t stay there with him. Tell him you have to come out too.”
“I’m his hostage, and he’s releasing all of the students,” she said, stressing the fact that all of the children were being released. “In return, for this act of good faith, he wants his demands met immediately upon the release of the kids. If his demands aren’t met, he’ll kill me.”
Sean swore softly. “I don’t know how the hell you got him to do this, sweetheart, but we’ll take it. Tell him it’s a done deal. I’ll get some damn document from the judge and have him sign it. The wife is here, but we’ve kept a lid on her because it’s likely he’s going to kill her the minute he lays eyes on her.”
Rachel agreed but she remained silent. She wanted to ask Sean what was being done, but she couldn’t.
“Ethan’s here,” Sean said in barely a whisper. “Hang in there, honey. They’ll get you out.”
Bolstered by the news that Ethan and his brothers were on the scene, she lowered the phone and looked at Mr. Winstead.
“They’ve agreed to give you signed legal documents from the judge who issued the restraining order, and your wife is here now. Let the children go, and then they’ll talk to you again to make the arrangements.”
Once more she held her breath. He paused for what seemed like an eternity as he grappled with the decision. He glanced at his daughter and then back to Rachel. He leveled the gun at her once more, his hand much steadier, almost as if the longer this went on, the more comfortable he got with holding a weapon.
He dipped the barrel toward the door and then back at Rachel. “Get them to the door. Single file. Line them up. I’ll open the door and let them out. When the last one’s out, the door closes, and you and Jennifer stay with me.”
Then he motioned for Jennifer to go stand by Rachel.
Rachel hastily nodded her agreement. “Let me line them up but I’ll stay back. I promise. I can do it from the back of the room. Can I call to let the police know the children are on their way out so that no one gets hurt?”
Grudgingly, the gunman nodded, and Rachel turned her attention on her terrified students.
“Listen to me, boys and girls. I want you to line up single file. No pushing. I need you to remain calm. Line up quickly. Once you leave the door, go straight to the bus ramp exit. Someone will be waiting for you and tell you where to go from there. Do you understand?”
There was a mad scramble as desks were shoved out of the way and children sprung up to hastily form a line.
Rachel picked up the phone and hit Sean’s number.
“Talk to me, Rachel. What’s going on?” Sean asked.
“They’re coming out,” she said calmly. She nodded in Mr. Winstead’s direction.
He pointed the gun squarely at her as he opened the door. She leaned her hip into the desk, positioning herself between Jennifer and her father.
“Go now,” she told the children while she kept the line open. “Someone will be waiting at the bus ramp exit.”
“You got it,” Sean said. “We’ll have officers there to guide them out safely. You’re amazing, Rachel. Sit tight, sweetheart.”
Rachel hung up so she wouldn’t anger the gunman and watched the last of the children hurry from the classroom.
When the last child was through the door, Mr. Winstead firmly shut it and then turned back to Rachel.
The ceiling above them exploded, plaster pelting down over their heads. Men dropped down onto the floor, forming a barrier between her and the gunman.
The gunman’s expression turned from initial shock and befuddlement to one of fury as he realized what was happening.
“You fucking bitch! You lied!”
He raised the gun, and in that instant, Ethan took a step sideways, maneuvering himself in front of Rachel, and took the bullet right to the chest.
Chapter 12
“No!” Rachel screamed.
Sam and Garrett both dove for the gunman, taking him down hard. Jennifer screamed and tried to run to her father, but Joe swept her into his arms and turned, holding her so she wouldn’t see what was going on.
Rachel dropped to the floor, sobs welling from her throat in ragged, raw bursts. She covered Ethan with her own body, screaming for him to wake up, to be all right.
She wiped her hands frantically over his body, searching for the source of the blood she knew would be covering him. But her hands came away clean.
The scuffle went on around her. Jennifer’s sobbing rose with Rachel’s own. And then there was a gentle touch on her shoulder as Donovan moved in beside her.
“Rachel, honey, it’s okay. It’s all right. I promise.”
“No,” she sobbed. “He shot Ethan. Oh my God, he shot Ethan. Help him, Van. Please. Don’t let him die.” She pushed at Ethan again. “Please don’t die, Ethan,” she begged.
Please don’t die.
The cry welled from her very soul. Ethan let out a low groan, and relief blew wild and hot through her veins, making her light-headed in the process.
The door flew open, and the police poured in. There were exclamations, demands for answers, information. It all blurred into one insane litany. She didn’t care what else happened. She only wanted Ethan to live.
“Rachel, sweetheart. Listen to me,” Donovan said calmly. “He was wearing a vest. He took the bullet in the chest. He’ll be okay.”
She stared uncomprehendingly at Donovan, her eyes and mind blank. Then she gazed down in bewilderment at Ethan, whose eyelids fluttered open at that precise moment.
“A vest?” she echoed.
Donovan cut Ethan’s shirt open and pushed the remnants aside. His hands slid down the face of the Kevlar vest, and then he pointed at the bullet lodged in the middle.
“See?” he said to Rachel. “Vest did its job. He’s going to be bruised, and he’ll be sore as hell for a few days, but he’s fine.”
She threw her arms around Donovan’s neck and clung fiercely as her sobs poured out in one relieved, forceful rush.
“Oh God, I was so scared,” she whispered.
Donovan hugged her back, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down her spine.
“You were fierce,” Donovan said. “I’m so damn proud of you, Rachel. We were in the ducts planning to drop in, and then we heard you negotiate for the release of the children, so we waited until they were out of the room.”
“Mr. Winstead?” she asked fearfully as she still clutched at Donovan.
She didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to see what had happened.
“And Jennifer?”
“They’re taking the father away now, and Joe has Jennifer,” Donovan said in a low voice.
She sagged against Donovan, but then the sweetest sound she’d ever heard rose from her husband.
“Rachel?”
She pulled away from Donovan and pressed her body down over Ethan’s so her face was level with his.
“Are you all right?” she demanded. “Do you hurt anywhere?”
“I don’t give a fuck about me,” he said gruffly. “I want to know how you and our babies are.”
Her heart filled with so much love that she thought she might burst from it. Relief had weakened her until she bobbled and nearly toppled over on top of him.