Page 50 of Noel Secrets
Ginny was the first to reach him, her hands cupping his cheeks, tilting his face this way and that. “Michael—oh, thank God. You’re bleeding, your head—you need a doctor.”
Ed’s hand was firm on his shoulder, steadying him. “Son, can you stand? Did they shoot you?”
“I’m fine,” Michael rasped, shrugging them off. His voice was raw, shaking. “It doesn’t matter. Jayda—she’s still in that car.”
He pointed down the mountain road, where the mobsters’ vehicle was only a shrinking blur against the white horizon. Panic twisted inside him like a blade. “They’ve got her. If we don’t catch up, they’ll kill her.”
Ginny grabbed his arm. “We’ve called the police. Let them handle this. Please, Michael—you’re hurt, and those men?—”
“No!” His shout echoed off the jagged rocks, sharper than he intended, but he didn’t care. He tore free of her grip, chest heaving. “The police won’t get to her in time. You saw how fast they’re moving. By the time anyone catches up, she’ll be gone. I can’t—” His voice broke. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. “I can’t let her be alone in this.”
For a moment, silence pressed between them, the snowfall filling it with a muffled hush.
Then Ed stepped forward, his gaze steady. “What do you want us to do?”
Michael blinked at him. The question was simple, but it hit deep, because it wasn’t just about Jayda. It was about everything—years of strained silences, of him never being sure if he was enough in his father’s eyes. And here was Ed, standing in the freezing wind, saying with his presence what he hadn’t always said with words: I’m with you.
Michael swallowed hard. His throat felt tight.
“You two have fought for Jayda for years,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking between them. “Even when she didn’t know it. Even when she didn’t want you to.” He looked at his father. “I knowyou pulled strings. Yale Law—that was you, wasn’t it? You used your connections. You got her in.”
Ed’s jaw tightened, his breath clouding in the air. Then he shook his head. “No, son. I told only the truth about her. That girl’s one of the hardest workers I’ve ever seen. Tougher than most of the lawyers I’ve sat across from. Justice needs people like her. She earned her way.” His gaze softened, though his voice didn’t. “Just like you earned yours as a writer.”
Michael stared at him, chest thick with emotions he hadn’t expected. For years he had believed he was living in the shadow of his father’s judgments, but here was the man saying he’d seen Michael’s worth all along.
His vision blurred for a second, but he blinked it away. There wasn’t time for this. “Then don’t stop fighting for her now,” Michael said, his voice steadier, sharper. “Your gift to her has always been fighting in secret. But she doesn’t need secrets anymore. She needs people who’ll stand up for her, right in front of her. She needs us.”
Ed studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Get in the cab. We’ve got a mobster to catch.”
Ginny’s eyes flashed with fear, but she pressed her lips tight and didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed Michael’s arm and half-dragged him back toward the cab, as though her own urgency couldn’t be denied either.
They piled into the backseat, slamming the doors shut. The cab driver, a wiry man with weathered skin and nerves of steel, had already seen the other car ahead. Without waiting for instructions, he floored the gas pedal, tires spitting snow as they lurched forward into the chase.
Michael’s heart thudded, every muscle tight. He leaned forward between the seats, eyes locked on the black car weaving ahead of them far in the distance. Jayda was in there.Somewhere between those tinted windows and steel doors, she was trapped—and counting on him.
“Faster,” Michael urged. His pulse kept time with the tires hammering against the icy road. “Don’t let them out of sight.”
The driver grinned through gritted teeth. “Buckle up. You want me to keep up with those animals, you’d better hang on.”
The cab shot forward, sliding dangerously on the next curve, but the driver handled it like he’d been born to these roads. Michael barely noticed. His focus was a burning tunnel on the car ahead, on Jayda.
Then the black car’s left rear window slid down.
For one suspended second, nothing moved. Then the muzzle of a gun appeared, gleaming even in the dim light.
“Down!” Michael roared, throwing his arm out across his mother as the first shot cracked through the air.
The windshield splintered with a spiderweb of cracks. Ginny screamed. The cab jerked as the driver swerved, narrowly avoiding the guardrail.
Another shot rang out.
Michael’s stomach turned to ice—but his resolve only sharpened.
He would not let up until Jayda was back in his arms.
Chapter Fourteen
The limo hurtled through the twisting mountain road, its heavy frame groaning as it swerved tight corners in the Rockies. The windows rattled with the force of the gunfire, glass trembling as one mobster leaned out, firing round after round at the yellow cab barreling behind them. Muzzle flashes lit the night like firecrackers, illuminating the jagged cliffs on one side and the abyss on the other. Snow whipped past the windshield, carried in gusts of icy wind that howled against the metal.
