Taken by Tuesday

Chapter Twenty-Nine



Neil and Rick sprang from the van before it rolled to a complete stop. Night vision goggles, heat-sensitive radar . . . they had what they needed to go in quietly and find their target. Good thing it was pitch-black outside or they would appear just as crazy as the guy who kidnapped Judy.

They started in the garage, found the entry to the adjacent building, and easily disabled the lock. In single file, and without words, they moved down the short hall before they found the stairs leading down. A Do Not Enter sign was plastered over the door, but it was obvious the door had been used recently. Someone had actually oiled the hinges, making the door silent as it opened.

Rick clicked on the night vision and the hall in front of him offered a green view of the empty basement. The sound of a fan blowing accompanied their footfalls. The first fork in the hall split them up. Without words, Neil took the right and Rick continued forward . . . closer to the noisy fan.

A door on his left made him pause. The rusty lock and unoiled hinges had him moving on. The corridor veered left. Without a direction, he took it, found a storage room filled with old chairs, desks, and various office supplies. The space was dusty from its obvious lack of use. The only thing there was evidence of was rats in the corners.

Back in the hall, he continued toward the fan.

In his ear, Neil said, “Moving northeast.”

“Copy.”

Each step in the basement met with disappointment. If Judy wasn’t there, where was she?

Rick pushed back the desperation inside him. C’mon, Judy.

He rounded what looked like the end of the building. An arrow pointed to the boiler room.

Judy’s piercing scream filled him with both dread and relief.

He ran now, switching the safety off his rifle.



  Judy wasn’t sure if pure adrenaline or unadulterated fear gave her strength, but when Mitch started back at her with the knife, determined to hurt her even more, she gripped the bar over her head and bent her elbows like she did when she worked out.

With bent knees, she connected with the man’s chest.

He stumbled back and she kicked both feet toward his face with a scream.

Mitch hit the floor, blood spilled on the side of his face.

The pipe above her started to give with her weight and she tried to bounce the rust free.

Mitch scrambled to his feet right as the bar gave way, dumping her on the ground.

Blood rushed to her arms with pins and needles.

A blurry mass rushed her, knocking her to the floor. “You’re going to regret that.” Mitch’s arms squeezed around her so hard she fought to breathe.

“Let her go!”

Judy almost didn’t recognize Rick’s voice.

Suddenly, Mitch pulled her in front of him, dragged her to her feet, his knife at her throat. Her hands gripped his to prevent him from killing her.
     



Rick had his weapon pointed directly at them, a lethal stare boring into the man holding her.

“I’ll cut her.”

Rick’s beautiful green eyes found hers. Her trust in him didn’t waver. “Shoot him,” she pleaded.

Mitch pulled her closer, ducked behind her head.

“Going to risk killing your own wife?” Mitch moved to the back of the room. She had no idea if there was an exit that way or not.

Rick’s weapon traced their movement. His eyes moved from hers and pinned on Mitch.

“Take the shot.”

The tension in Mitch’s hand was so tight she knew she wouldn’t survive the cut. The knife drew blood.

Noise behind Rick gave Mitch pause.

Judy pulled his arm, prayed her strength would hold, and twisted her head so it wasn’t blocking his.

Noise exploded inside the room. The man behind her fell to the ground, nearly dragging her with him.

Judy stepped out of the mess and directly into Rick’s arms.



Rick buried Judy’s head against his shoulder and held her.

Behind him, Neil and Detective Raskin stepped closer. From the look of Mitch’s body, he’d suffered more than one bullet.

Rick gently dislodged Judy from his shoulder and felt down both sides of her arms, her body. “Were you hit?”

She looked down at her mess of clothes and shook her head. “No.”

Thank God. He pulled her into him again and her arms gently wrapped around his waist.

“We need an ambulance,” he heard Raskin say into his phone. “And the coroner.”

Neil laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll call the family.”

“Tell them I’m OK,” Judy whispered. “Just a few cuts.”

Rick noticed more than a few. “Let’s get you out of here.”

They walked toward the corridor. Detective Raskin shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to Rick to place over Judy’s shoulders. Without words, Rick led Judy out of the basement, half carrying her away from her prison.



“All charges have officially been dropped.” Dean delivered the news Monday afternoon.

Judy held Rick’s hand over the table and squeezed it hard. In the other rooms, her entire family moved about the Beverly Hills estate.

Judy didn’t want to discuss the kidnapping, or the man responsible for it, in front of her parents. All of it had been traumatic enough . . . for all of them.

“Do we know why he targeted me?”

She and Rick had their theories, but nothing had been confirmed.

Dean glanced at Rick, then to her. “How much of this do you want to hear?”

“All of it,” she told him. “He can’t hurt me now.”

No, Mitch Larson wouldn’t ever hurt anyone again.

“I’m sure Rick told you about the pictures.” She couldn’t imagine her image all over the man’s home, even after Rick told her about them.

“Yes.”

Rick offered a smile of encouragement.

“Along with the pictures were long-winded rambling narratives blaming you for his dishonorable discharge from the military.”

“But—”

Dean waved a hand in the air. “Of course you didn’t have anything to do with it. He also used your name and that of the female officer who his real grievance was with, interchangeably, in his letters. He had pages of notes from that online game. He had three accounts, including that of a woman you friended on Facebook.”

Judy pictured the profiles in her head when Dean listed the names Mitch Larson had used. The dots connected and linked him directly to her.

“So when I kicked his butt on the game, he found his target,” Judy concluded.

“It appears that way.”

She squeezed her eyes closed. “How stupid and naive of me.”

Rick brought their joined hands to his lips. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. But I made it easy for him.” She turned her attention to Dean. “How soon can I scrub my profiles from the Internet?”

“Detective Raskin is working with the Internet department to back up the files for their use. Shouldn’t be but a couple more days.”

“I want it all gone, everything I can get off the Internet. No more online games. Monopoly might be boring, but it’s safer.”

Dean pushed away from the table, shook Rick’s hand. “If you need anything . . . you know where to find me.”

Judy offered a hug. “Thanks for everything.”

“Be safe,” he told her before he left the house.



It took a month for her family to return to their normal lives. If it wasn’t for the promise of going to Utah for Thanksgiving and a week at Christmas, her parents wouldn’t have ever left.

Judy met with Debra Miller after the family dispersed.

They sat across Michael’s kitchen table, drinking coffee. “I’d like you to come back,” Debra told her.

Judy smiled into her cup. “I don’t honestly know if I can.” She was stronger than she thought she’d be, but walking back into the office . . .

Debra tapped a perfectly manicured nail against her cup. “I won’t pretend to understand how you feel. Get through the holidays before you give me your answer.”

“I’m just an intern,” she reminded her. “You don’t have to feel any guilt about what happened.”

Debra actually laughed. “I don’t. Misdirected guilt isn’t fueling this conversation, Judy. I like your designs . . . like your passion. José was promoted and we’re in need of someone to replace him, not to mention I’d like you around to help with the Santa Barbara project.”

“You’re offering me a job?”

“I’m offering you an opportunity.” Debra sipped her coffee. “Besides, I can’t help but notice the delicious men you surround yourself with.” She winked over her cup.

Debra Miller was a very attractive, put-together woman. Judy doubted she struggled for male companionship.

Judy walked her out of the house as Rick was pulling into the drive.

He removed his helmet and left it dangling from the handlebars of the Ducati. He shook Debra’s hand.

Debra glanced over her shoulder and lifted her eyebrows. “See what I mean?”

Judy laughed and Rick smiled, though she knew the joke was over his head.

“Call me after the first,” she said.

“I will.”

Judy and Rick watched her leave before moving inside. “What was all that about?”

She rinsed the cups and put them in the dishwasher. “She offered me a job.”

“Really?”

Judy gripped the counter, looked in the backyard. “Yeah.”

“What do you want to do?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I have until January to make my decision.”

Rick moved around the counter and pulled her into his arms, kissed the top of her head. “She’d be lucky to have you.” Rick was always saying stuff like that.

They’d fallen into a comfortable pattern of living. Meg had moved the offices back to the Tarzana house while Rick stayed at Mike’s with her. But Mike was wrapping up his latest film and would be returning home for a few months. It was time to consider where she and Meg were going to live.

It was time to determine the longevity of her relationship with Rick. She loved the man but couldn’t risk telling him her feelings. After everything that had happened, they hadn’t had time to analyze their life together . . . or apart.

Emotionally, she wasn’t sure she was ready to consider life without him. To his credit, he hadn’t once alluded to wanting a different path than the one they were on.
     



Rick put her at arm’s length, kissed her briefly. “We’re leaving in half an hour.”

“We are?”

“Yep . . . a date. Nothing too fancy.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Well, I need to get ready then.”

Thirty minutes later, they left the house in Mike’s Ferrari. “You know . . . eventually my brother’s going to want his car back.”

Rick laughed. “I know. Means I need to get behind the wheel as much as possible while I can.”

They talked about traffic, her job offer, what was happening with Zach and Karen and the extra teen that made it into their home in the last month. When Rick pulled into the parking lot to the tram leading to the Getty, Judy actually clapped her hands like a kid. “You remembered.”

He put the Ferrari in park, came around to help her out of the low car.

“Don’t expect me to know any of the artists. Take me to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and I’m your man.”

She snuggled into him on the short ride to the top of the hill. “The art isn’t what makes this place special for me,” she told him. “It’s the building I love.”

And she did. Arched ceilings, verandas, and endless angles and curves that highlighted whatever art the museum wanted to display. She dragged him from one end to the other, pointing out everything her eyes saw that his didn’t.

The sun was starting to set and he pulled her toward a single table with two chairs that overlooked the city.

“What’s this?” she asked.

He pulled out one of the chairs, removed her purse from her arm, and set it down. “I might not have any idea about art, but I do have some class.”

“This is for us?” She looked around and saw a waiter standing close by. The sun was low, but not quite setting.

“We know some powerful people, babe. I for one am not opposed to asking them to pull some strings.”

The waiter approached and filled their glasses with sparkling wine.

Rick lifted his glass to hers. “To us.”

She smiled, clinked his glass . . . but didn’t drink. “Rick?”

He placed a finger in the air, quieting her. “It’s taken me all day to work up to this moment. So I need you to just listen.”

He was fidgeting and set his glass down.

She set her glass down, folded her hands in her lap. Rick nervous was a delight to watch. The man always had such confidence in everything he did. This side of him made her think of young boys handing apples to their favorite teacher.

His green eyes met hers. “I love you.”

The giddy smile on her face fell and tears welled.

“The thought of my life without you makes me ill. I’ve almost lost you twice and . . . I can’t. I can’t lose you again.”

She swiped a tear from her cheek, kept listening.

“I want my ring on your finger, and everything that comes with staying your husband for life. I want the good times, the bad times . . . though a few less bad times might be nice for a while. I want a mortgage and a family car. I want all of that with you.”

It took both hands to clear her vision. “Oh, Rick.” She walked around the table and sat in his lap, melded her lips to his, tasted her tears in their kiss. “I love you, too. After everything we’ve been through, not a lot scares me . . . but thinking of my life without you leaves me empty. I want to show you the ridiculously small town I grew up in, introduce you to all my crazy relatives.”

“Crazy?” he asked with a silly grin.

“Eclectic might be a better word.” She thought of her aunt Belle. “Well, maybe a little crazy.”

Rick laughed. “I’ve met your parents. I’m not scared.”

“Me either. Not with you . . . not about us.”

His arms wrapped around her. “Is that a yes?”

“Was there a question?” she teased.

“Marry me.”

“Still not a question.”

He found a sensitive spot on her waist and tickled her.

She squirmed in his lap.

“Will you marry me?”

With hands framing his face, she stared at her future. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

He tossed his head back and laughed, picked her up and swung her around before kissing her again.





Epilogue

Snowcapped mountains made a perfect backdrop for the sunny Saturday following Thanksgiving.

Hannah rushed into the room; her floor-length dusty rose gown hugged her model-perfect body like a second skin. The college boys wouldn’t stand a chance. “They’re all ready. Dad’s on his way up.”

Judy adjusted the half sleeve of her wedding gown and tugged on the gloves that ended at her elbow as she stood. Meg pulled the train out behind her and Rena handed her the flowers.

Her mother kissed her cheek. “You’re lovely.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I’ll see you down there.”

From the looks of the packed parking lot, everyone in Hilton, Utah, was packed into the pews below. She did love her hometown, couldn’t imagine getting married anywhere else . . . but living there wasn’t something she wanted. Thankfully, Rick wanted to stay in LA for a while, see where it took both of them. Secretly, Judy knew Rick was hoping she’d take the job at Benson & Miller Designs. Judy wanted to wait for the new year to make that decision. Right now, she wanted to exchange real vows with the man she loved in front of everyone important in her life.

“Are you nervous?” Hannah asked.

Judy placed a hand over her stomach. “Excited.”

“I almost fainted when Joe and I got married,” Rena told her.

“Don’t tell Aunt Belle that, she’ll really think you were pregnant when you said I do.”

A knock on the door made her stomach flutter. Maybe she was a little nervous.

Her father, dressed in a sharp black tux, his hair combed back and his chest puffed out like the proud man he was, entered the room. One look at her and some of that pride shifted. She saw tears behind his eyes and had to open hers wider to avoid tears of her own.

Meg handed her a tissue. “None of that. Oh, jeez. Stop.”

Judy fanned her face and blinked away the moisture.

Sawyer moved to her side, took the tissue from her hand, and patted the corners of her eyes. “Guess this means my little girl is all grown up.”

Judy offered him a smile. “Yep.”

Sawyer tossed the tissue aside, offered his arm. “That sucks.”

She laughed, leaned into him. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too.” The wedding march filled the hall and the girls lined up in front of them.

The good people of Hilton loved a good party, and weddings were at the top of their list.

Rick stood in a formal black tux, his parents, who she’d met over the Thanksgiving holiday, sat in the front row to watch the ceremony. They’d welcomed Judy with a wariness to them that she was determined to overcome.

Judy looked past her in-laws and found Rick’s gaze as she walked toward him. In front of the minister, she kissed her dad’s cheek before taking Rick’s hand.

“Wow,” Rick said under his breath when he stepped next to her. “You’re beautiful.”

“You clean up well yourself, babe.”

Rick laughed at the nickname. “A lifetime of calling you babe. Love it.”

“I love you,” she said with a never-ending smile.

“Love you back.”

She nudged him and Neil lifted an eyebrow. “You two ready to get this going?” Neil asked.

Rick and Judy both chuckled and turned their attention to the minister.
     







Acknowledgments

It is time, once again, for me to thank those who helped me get to this point in a novel.

For my online gaming friends who enjoy a good war without taking yourselves too seriously . . . you know who you are.

For my fellow boot campers who keep me motivated to move more than I ever would on my own. Love you guys.

Let’s not forget my street team and your never-ending support of everything I write. I absolutely cannot go without mentioning Ashlea, who has already dubbed Rick her book boyfriend.

For my critique partner, Sandra . . . yes, yes, I know . . . Michael needs his HEA. Just hang in there, babe!

My editor, Kelli, who laughs at all my jokes. To the entire Montlake team. You guys rock.

As always, to Jane Dystel and everyone at Dystel & Goderich Literary Management. I couldn’t ask for a more supportive team. xoxo

Let me round my way back to the woman I dedicated this book to . . . Aunt Joan. I’m not sure you know how special you are to me. When I first moved to California, your support and presence in my life was completely unexpected and never more appreciated than in that difficult time. You love unconditionally and with your whole heart, and I’m blessed you’re in my life.

I love you.



Catherine





About the Author





Photo by Lindsey Meyer, 2012

New York Times-bestselling author Catherine Bybee was raised in Washington State, but after graduating high school, she moved to Southern California in hopes of becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban emergency rooms. She now writes full-time and has penned the novels Wife by Wednesday, Married by Monday, Fiancé by Friday, and Single by Saturday in her Weekday Brides series and Not Quite Dating, Not Quite Mine, and Not Quite Enough in her Not Quite series. Bybee lives with her husband and two teenage sons in Southern California.