The Welcoming

cars. She was smart, he told himself. Charity was a smart, sensible woman. She wouldn’t panic. She wouldn’t do anything stupid.
    Oh, God, she must be terrified. He lit a cigarette from the butt of another, but he didn’t find himself soothed as the harsh smoke seared into him.
    “Where’s the goddamn phone?”
    “Nearly ready.” Royce pushed back his hat and straightened from where he’d been watching a lineman patch in a temporary line. “My nephew,” he explained to Roman with a thin smile. “The boy knows his job.”
    “You got a lot of relatives.”
    “I’m lousy with them. Listen, I heard you and Charity were getting married. That part of the cover?”
    “No.” Roman thought of the picnic on the beach, that one clear moment in time. “No.”
    “In that case, I’m going to give you some advice. You’re wrong,” he said, before Roman could speak. “You do need it. You’re going to have to get yourself calm, real calm, before you pick up that phone. A trapped animal reacts two ways. He either cowers back and gives up or he strikes out at anything in his way.” Royce nodded toward the inn. “Block doesn’t look like the type to give up easy, and Charity sure as hell’s in his way. That line through yet, son?”
    “Yes, sir.” The young lineman’s hands were sweaty with nerves and excitement. “You can dial right through.” He passed the damp receiver to Roman.
    “I don’t know the number,” Roman murmured. “I don’t know the damn number.”
    “I know it.”
    Roman swung around to face Mae. In that one instant he saw everything he felt about himself mirrored in her eyes. There would be time for guilt later, he told himself. There would be a lifetime for it. “Royce, you were supposed to clear the area.”
    “Moving Maeflower’s like moving a tank.”
    “I don’t budge until I see Charity.” Mae firmed her quivering lips. “She’s going to need me when she comes out. Waste of time to argue,” she added, “You want the number?”
    “Yes.”
    She gave it to him. Tossing his cigarette aside, Roman dialed.
    Charity jolted in the chair when the phone rang. Across the table, Block simply stared at it. He had had her pile everything she could drag or carry to block the two doors. Extra chairs, twenty-pound canisters of flour and sugar, the rolling butcher block, iron skillets, all sat in a jumble, braced against both entrances.
    In the silent kitchen the phone sounded again and again, like a scream.
    “Stay right where you are.” Block moved across the room to answer it. “Yeah?”
    “It’s DeWinter. Thought you might be ready to talk about a deal.”
    “What kind of deal?”
    “That’s what we have to talk about. First I have to know you’ve still got Charity.”
    “Have you seen her come out?” Block spit into the phone. “You know damn well I’ve got her or you wouldn’t be talking to me.”
    “I have to make sure she’s still alive. Let me talk to her.”
    “You can go to hell.”
    Threats, abuse, curses, rose like bile in his throat. Still, when he spoke, his voice was dispassionate. “I verify that you still have a hostage, Block, or we don’t deal.”
    “You want to talk to her?” Block gestured with the gun. “Over here,” he ordered. “Make it fast. It’s your boyfriend,” he told Charity when she stood beside him. “He wants to know how you’re doing. You tell him you’re just fine.” He brushed the gun up her cheek to rest it at her temple. “Understand?”
    With a nod, she leaned into the phone. “Roman?”
    “Charity.” Too many emotions slammed into him for him to measure. He wanted to reassure her, to make promises, to beg her to be careful. But he knew he would have only seconds and that Block would be listening to every word spoken. “Has he hurt you?”
    “No.” She closed her eyes and fought back a sob. “No, I’m fine. He’s going to let me fix some food.”
    “Hear that, DeWinter? She’s fine.” Deliberately Block dragged her arm behind her back until she cried out. “That can change anytime.”
    Roman gripped the phone helplessly as he listened to the sound of Charity’s sobs. It took every ounce of control he had left to keep the terror out of his voice. “You don’t have to hurt her. I said we’d talk about terms.”
    “We’ll talk about terms, all right. My terms.” He released Charity’s arm and ignored her as she slid to the floor. “You get me a car. I want safe passage to the airport,