Amber Morn Read Online Free PDF

razored through Bailey’s body, shredding her thoughts. She could hardly feel, barely
think
. Couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood in her ears, the skid-pound of her heart.
    Frank. Paige.
    God, help us
.
    Brad reached into the open duffel bag on the floor.
    Bailey tore her eyes away. She couldn’t bear to see what was in there. Numbly she stared at the other two men with guns.
Remember their faces
. The thought pulsed like a dim light through the fog in her brain. Yes — remember. Victims of a crime were supposed to do that.
    She tried to focus.
    The man in charge was about six feet and beefy. Barrel-chested. Wide nose, close-set brown eyes. Heavy overhanging brow. He had an intense, almost predatory look. Thinning dark hair. Over fifty. His face was flushed. Angst and energy rose like steam off his big shoulders. Any minute now his impatient finger could jerk the trigger.
    Second man. Much Younger. Same height but skinny. Gaunt cheeks. Large ears, a mole on his left jaw. His pupils didn’t look right — way too large. His eyes darted this way and that. His tongue ran back and forth under his top lip, his torso rocking.
    She cut her gaze back to Brad. He looked like a young version of the first man. But the way he moved, the looks he threw at the man in charge… Brad was steely. Full of anger. Bristling with arrogance.
    Movement outside the front window caught Bailey’s attention. She flicked her eyes without moving her head.
    John
.
    He was trying to reach Frank. But a bullet could pierce that glass so easily.
    Oh, dear Lord, no.
She couldn’t lose John.
    She glanced at the two men with guns. Both were in profile to the front of the cafe, focused on their hostages. Brad’s attention was riveted to the duffel bag.
    Bailey’s eyes cut again to the window.
    Her husband crept forward.

FOURTEEN
     
    John’s leg muscles shook. He focused on Frank’s still body, screaming at himself not to look inside Java Joint. The terror of what he saw might freeze him.
    His head turned.
    The sight stabbed him. Three men, two with guns trained on everyone in the café. The Scenes and Beans crew huddled near the counter. Bailey stood alone on the serving side. Looking at him.
    John’s knees nearly gave way.
    Everything within him pulled toward Bailey. Right there — she was
right there
. His arm twitched to punch through the glass, rescue his wife —
    Some unseen hand shoved him forward.
    He reached Frank. John squeezed between the young officer and the wooden door, breathing hard. He was now out of sight through the windows. His wavering gaze fell on the white thing stuck in Frank’s waistband. Looked like an envelope. With the visible letters “ce Edwards.”
    Vince Edwards?
Kanner Lake’s chief of police.
    With trembling hands John grabbed the envelope and stuffed it in his pants pocket.
    He had to get Frank out of there.
    Which way? Up the street and around the corner?
    No, down to his car.
    John grasped Frank’s shoulder and turned him onto his back. Three red stains glared from his chest and stomach.
Dear God.
He was already dead.
    Rage shot through John. He couldn’t save Frank. It was
too late.
    His eyes stung. He would still get Frank out of here. He was not leaving the young man’s body to lie in the sun.
    John leaned forward, peered over his left shoulder through the window. The two men with guns hadn’t moved. He couldn’t see the youngest one.
    Now or never. Ten seconds, that was all he needed. Ten seconds to drag Frank past those windows…
    Energy burned his veins like a fast-catching fire.
One, two, three — go!
    John scuffled below Frank, grabbed his feet, and tugged with all his might.
    Movement through the window. John’s head swiveled. The youngest man was pulling something out of a duffel bag. His head jerked up.
    Their eyes met. The man’s motion stopped.
    I’m dead
.
    The split second stretched out. John didn’t slow.
    One of the gunmen spotted John and yelled something. The younger