TAKE A CHANCE ON ME

  "Done. Meet you there."

  Beck was waiting on the other side of the car door, his face drawn in worry. Hairy was cradled in his arms.

  "I swear to God I'll bring them home," Thomas said. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

  "The hell you will!" Beckett ran around to the other side and jumped in shotgun. He tossed Hairy in the back. "We're all going. Now drive!"

  Thomas was soon back on the road, blue light flashing, keeping the line open with Reg. The Special Tactical Assault Team Element was already on the way. Troopers from the Prince George's County barracks were on site, awaiting orders. The motel manager was being interviewed. The rest of the motel and all nearby buildings had been cleared.

  "She's pregnant," Thomas said.

  The old man stared at him with startled blue eyes, then looked him up one side and down the other. He broke out into a wide smile. "And?"

  "And I'd like your permission to marry her, sir."

  Beckett howled with laughter. "Son, my Emma's a grown woman with a mind of her own, in case you haven't noticed. Now, I'm not saying I don't appreciate the old-fashioned courtesy, but it's her permission you need, not mine."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Congratulations," Beck said. His chin quivered. "Now let's go get our girls."

  Thomas pressed the gas, thanked God it was past evening rush, and let the whole mess whirl around in his head. The fear he felt was desperate, potent. And he realized that he'd only felt fear like this one other time in his life, when he was just a kid. When his mother had left.

  And it occurred to him that he'd spent the rest of his life making sure he never set himself up to be this afraid again, because obviously, this kind of fear was the flip side of love. When you loved people they became your whole life. And losing them became the worst fate imaginable.

  He saw their faces—Emma and Leelee and a baby that was probably no bigger than a pea but was already real to him, real to his heart.

  He refused to lose them.

  He'd just found them.

  Thomas swallowed hard. "Hang on, Pops," he said, putting the pedal to the metal.

  * * *

  Emma and Leelee were nicely trussed up again, this time sitting in the corner, back to back, wrists linked. There was no way she was going to get out this time, Leelee realized.

  The two goons scared her more than Aaron did. They'd obviously done this sort of thing before, whereas Aaron was an amateur. She should be glad to see Aaron shaking and crying as he sat tied on the bed, but she couldn't be glad about anything.

  She had a feeling she and Emma were really going to die.

  "If you'd just let me follow through with the plan…" Aaron tried once more.

  The ugly guy laughed again.

  Man, he was ugly.

  He had hair like Squiggy from Laverne & Shirley reruns. Leelee didn't think actual people wore their hair like that, but obviously she'd been traveling in the wrong circles. He was dressed in a mighty attractive yellow polyester golf shirt and a pair of those stretch pants men can order from the back pages of Parade magazine. He had more tattoos than the girls at the tractor pull, but fewer teeth. And he smelled bad.

  His skinny friend was obviously the assistant manager of their criminal enterprise. He did whatever the ugly one told him to do, including tying her and Emma together a moment ago.

  The last few minutes had been just full of surprises, and by this point, Leelee had put the whole twisted story together. Aaron had owed Scott Slick lots of money and Slick was tired of dealing with him, so he sold Aaron's debt to Goons Incorporated here for pennies on the dollar, and they'd started harassing Aaron to pay up. Aaron was royally pissed, and followed Slick home one night and tried to convince him to give him one more chance to pay his debt. Slick said no-can-do. They argued. Aaron snapped, he said, grabbed a kitchen blender, and whacked Slick in the head with it.

  He swore he hadn't meant to kill him.

  So there the three men were now, arguing about who they should kill and how they were going to get their hands on money.

  Leelee swallowed hard. Obviously, if the goons killed Aaron they wouldn't be getting any more money from him, right? So the Ugly One must be considering Aaron's plan to kill them. That had to be why the three men were now staring at Emma and her like they were juicy T-bones laid out on ruffles of Bibb lettuce.

  At least she hoped that money was the only reason they stared.

  Leelee started to shake. She shoved down the fear and started talking.

  "Hey, did you guys know that Scott Slick was actually an alias for a guy named Simon Slickowski, who lived in a trailer park in Smyma, Delaware, and was last year's World Canine Disco Dancing Champion?"

  "What the fuck is that?" the Ugly One asked, frowning.

  "Be quiet, Lee," Emma whispered through clenched teeth.

  "It's where people wear funky costumes and dance around to disco music with their dogs—you know, Donna Summer, Rose Royce, Peaches and Herb."

  "I've always loved Peaches and Herb," the assistant manager said, then began singing, "'We're bumping booties, havin' us a ball…'"

  "This is messed up," the Ugly One said. "Everybody just shut up a minute while I think."

  "And Slick has a bunch of money stashed up in Delaware," Leelee added. "We can take you to it."

  The men began arguing again.

  Emma twisted her fingers around to clutch at Leelee's hand.

  "Lee! How in the world—? Were you listening in on a private conversation between Thomas and me? When?"

  Leelee rolled her eyes. This was no time for another lecture from Emma. "I just overheard you one night."

  Emma hissed and tightened her grip. "Well, just be quiet, would you?"

  "I can't! I'm so scared!"

  "It's going to be okay."

  Leelee grunted. "How?"

  "Thomas is coming for us," she whispered. "I can feel it."

  Leelee rolled her eyes—their knight in shining Audi! God, how she wished it were true! Thomas was great, but he wasn't exactly a hero. She knew better than to believe in heroes.

  "How much is up in Delaware?" the Ugly One asked.

  "Over half a million," Leelee said.

  "How in the hell did you know Slick anyway?"

  Uh-oh. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.

  "You're making all this up, aren't you, you little bitch?"

  "No! I swear! It's true!"

  The Ugly One took a step closer to them while looking over his shoulder at Aaron. "How much did you say the wife was worth, Kramer?"

  "Quarter of a million." Aaron slumped further onto the bed.

  "Okay. Everybody hold on a minute while I do the math."

  Leelee couldn't help it. "Don't hurt yourself," she said.

  Emma clamped down on her fingers.

  The Ugly One bent down, touched Emma's hair, then Leelee's. He chuckled. "Whatever we do, I think we're going to keep the little one alive."

  Emma whipped her head around and sank her teeth into the Ugly One's arm.

  "Ow! Shit! Fuck! Hell!"

  Things were really starting to disintegrate.

  * * *

  When they reached the scene, Thomas was told that sniper surveillance showed three men inside, one of them Aaron Kramer, and at least three weapons. The women were tied in the far southwest corner of the room, directly below the front window, Emma facing out. The hostage-takers seemed disorganized and the young girl had managed to keep them off balance by not shutting up.

  "Thata girl, Lee," Beckett said.

  The STATE team plan was simple: create a diversion and surprise them. Five men were poised at the motel room door, weapons at the ready. Two snipers were positioned in trees in the back. A remote-controlled explosive device—designed more for noise than destruction—was in place under the bathroom window.

  Thomas and Regina were right behind the STATE team, tucked into Kevlar vests. The rest of Thomas's team waited in a staging area on the service
road, along with five waiting ambulances and an assortment of state police and Prince George's County Sheriff's Department vehicles.

  Thomas knew from experience that tactical maneuvers like these could be over in seconds—it was possible that within moments he'd have Emma in his arms. That is, if she'd come anywhere near him.

  Snipers reported that Emma had just bitten one of the hostage-takers, and the instant of chaos that followed was all the STATE team needed.

  As the hostage-taker dropped his weapon and ran screaming to the bathroom, a loud explosion rocked the room. STATE officers crashed in the door. Two officers immediately covered the women while the other three tackled and cuffed the hostage-takers. The takedown was over almost before it had begun.

  The next few moments were a blur for Thomas—he watched as Emma and Leelee were cut loose and hugged each other, crying. A STATE team member led them to sit on the edge of the bed and called for the EMTs.

  They were alive. That's all that registered in his brain. They looked cut and bruised and beyond exhausted, but they were breathing.

  He hadn't lost them. Now he prayed he hadn't lost them.

  Emma slowly turned toward Thomas. His heart lurched. His eye squinted. And after a second that seemed to hold his entire world over his head, Emma offered him a soft smile.

  "I knew you'd figure it out," she said, and held out her hand.

  He got to her instantly, squatting down, his hands racing all over her body.

  "Are you hurt? Where did they touch you?"

  "I'm okay," she said, shaking her head.

  Thomas reached over for Leelee. "Are you all right, Lee?"

  She nodded, mute, her lips trembling. She had a shiner that was going to take up most of the left side of her face. Thomas took another look at Emma, and saw a swelling welt along her cheek and a split in her lower lip.

  What he really wanted to do was kill Aaron with his bare hands.

  What he did instead was open his arms, and the two women fell against him, sobbing with relief, shaking from the adrenaline crash, and all he could do was pull them tighter, kiss them both, tell them they would be all right—everything was going to be all right.

  Then he allowed himself to believe it, too.

  Thomas felt something worming its way between his feet, and Leelee pulled back enough that Hairy could jump into her arms. His little tongue licked her face and he yipped in joy, tail twirling like a propeller.

  "Hairy!" Leelee screamed. "Our hero!"

  Within a few moments, an EMT escorted Leelee to an ambulance and Thomas asked the crowd in the motel room for a few minutes of privacy. Once everyone left, he sat next to Emma and cupped her face in his hands.

  "We need to get you checked out, too." He drank in the sight of that sweet freckled nose, those shell-shocked blue eyes, the face of the woman he loved.

  She nodded. She sniffed. In a very small voice she said, "I'm glad you didn't give up on us."

  Everything inside of Thomas clenched. "Forgive me, Emma. There's no excuse for the things I said to you. I went crazy. It's just … well … I'm not very used to believing in miracles, you know? It's kind of a challenge for me."

  She smiled.

  "I acted like a conflicted idiot."

  "You did."

  "But I'm a conflicted idiot who loves you with everything I am—an idiot who trusts you completely."

  "I'm glad to hear that."

  "And God, here's the deal, Emma—you can do whatever you want to me now—poison my cornflakes—"

  She was already laughing.

  "—put a bomb under the hood of my car, or ground glass in my popcorn, or booby-trap the basement steps, and baby, I'd never see it coming because I love you so much it's killing me."

  Emma finished laughing and kissed his cheek. "Or, I could just put all that creative energy into loving you—did that ever occur to you, Thomas?"

  He raised her scraped wrist to his lips and kissed tenderly. "It does now."

  "I'm glad we've got that cleared up."

  "I'm going to do my best, Emma." Thomas's voice went rough and his gaze held hers. "I might screw up again, but I'll always do my very best for you and our family."

  She looked into those tortured silver eyes and knew that was all she could ask. It was all she needed—all she'd ever needed.

  "I don't think love is perfect, Rugby Boy." Emma pulled his big hand to her heart and held it there. "It's messy and confusing and complicated, but what else is there? What else is there besides love?" She grinned, clutched his hand tighter. "I'll take my chances with you if you'll take yours with me."

  He pulled her to him, and Emma felt herself relax, curve into his sturdy body, safe and complete.

  "I want to love you every day for the rest of my life, Emma Jenkins."

  She moved his hand to her belly and pressed it close. "I think we're free."

  "Tommy?"

  Regina Massey stood in the doorway, smiling. "I'm sorry, but we need to get back in here. We also need to get the doctor and her daughter to the hospital."

  He walked Emma to a waiting ambulance, got her settled, and kissed her softly. "I'll be back in a minute. I've got a few loose ends to tie up."

  Leelee sat on a stretcher, back straight, chin steady, holding a cold pack to the side of her face with one hand and clutching Hairy with the other. Two EMTs busied themselves around her in the ambulance bay.

  She turned toward him, letting the cold pack fall away. She grinned.

  "Hey, Thomas."

  He smiled, propped a foot on the ambulance fender, and leaned toward her.

  "I hear you gave the bad guys a hard time in there."

  "Nerves. I talk a lot when I'm nervous."

  "Thank you, Lee." She turned away.

  Thomas met the gaze of one of the EMTs, and they both hopped down from the vehicle to give him a moment alone with the girl. He nodded in gratitude.

  Thomas cleared his throat. Emma had been right—Leelee was never an easy crowd to work. "Do you know what I'm thanking you for?"

  That got her attention. She looked down at him warily. "Sure I do. Emma got out of there alive."

  He shook his head. "That's not all."

  Leelee tried hard to cloak her expression in her all-purpose bored look, but was failing miserably. Her shoulders were starting to shake and her fingers trembled as they stroked Hairy's skin.

  "What, then?"

  "Thank you for being the smartest and bravest kid I know. Thank you for loving Emma as much as I do."

  "Sure." She shrugged.

  "I have something I'd like to ask you."

  Leelee sighed and rolled her eyes to the ambulance ceiling. "I know. You want to marry Emma. I know she's pregnant. Nice going, by the way. Ever hear of a condom? So whatever. Go ahead. I don't care."

  Thomas chuckled. "That wasn't what I wanted to ask you."

  Leelee gazed down at him, shocked by the tender look in his face, the affection she saw there. And it wasn't a creepy kind of affection at all—it was just nice. Just warm and nice, and it was the weirdest thing, but the hole inside her was being filled up—filled up with whatever it was she saw in this man's eyes.

  "Do you think Emma can learn to share?"

  "Share what?"

  Thomas grinned, raised a hand and began to fiddle with one of her errant blond curls. He let his fingers stray to her cheek. "You, Elizabeth. I was hoping Emma might be willing to share you. I was hoping you might be willing to become my daughter when Emma becomes my wife—kind of like a package deal."

  There was nothing Leelee could say, because this was the single most wonderful moment of her life. Of all the men in the world who could have been her father, she'd wound up with Thomas.

  She'd somehow ended up with the best.

  "So what do you say, junior?"

  She felt herself smile, despite her best efforts. "Sure. Whatever." Then she tossed Hairy to the stretcher and flung her arms around Thomas's neck.

  * * *

&nb
sp; Epilogue

  You Make Me Feel Like Dancing

  « ^

  "So where are we eating?" Rollo asked.

  "Bayside Stella's." Thomas ushered everyone out into the convention center parking lot to the three waiting cars, his arms laden with costumes.

  "Yeah? Well, I sure hope you called ahead." Pam threw him a scowl as she herded Petey and Jack into their minivan. "We'll be waiting hours otherwise."

  "I called ahead," Thomas answered patiently, then nodded toward Franco. "Outside table for ten with a high chair and the okay to bring two lapdogs."

  "He thinks of everything," Franco laughed. "You'd have made a great wedding planner, Thomas."

  "I think he should stick to coaching and teaching, don't you, honey?" Beckett squeezed Mrs. Quatrocci's hand.

  "Absolutely," she said, smiling up at him.

  Sigh.

  What a motley crew we are. I can hardly remember the days when it was just Slick and me. It seems like another lifetime—I guess it was.

  Uh-oh. Quiche Lorraine, that little minx, just winked at me again. Can't you see I'm exhausted, woman?

  Females. What can you do?

  "Dadda! See goggy!"

  "Yes, T.J., I see the dog. It's Hairy."

  "Goggy! My!"

  Nope—not even Thomas Jenkins Tobin is going to ruin my good mood today. Because of all my victories, this one was the sweetest.

  The instant we stepped into the competition ring and Leelee's eyes latched onto mine, I knew that Junior Freestyle trophy was ours.

  Sometimes, you just know it's going to be good.

  "We'll see everyone at the restaurant!" Emma yelled, waving.

  It was the finest performance of my career, no question. That instant of magic with the piano intro. Then: "At first I was afraid. I was petrified…"

  Left paw out, around in a dramatic sweep to my side. Repeat on the right, while Leelee did the same with her hands.

  Then the pound, the soul-rocking beat, and we were on our way—one, two, stop, turn. One, two, stop, turn. Fabulous!

  "Come on, champ, get in the car." Thomas grinned down at the little dog, sitting on the asphalt, staring off as if deep in thought. Then Hairy looked up at him, and damned if he didn't smile.