Daring Rescue E-Book

Ann Omasta

• Herausgeber: More Happily Ever Afters
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

He owes her. She needs him. He’ll save her… no matter what.

Imagine you are waiting in line at the bank. It’s the most boring, normal thing in the world until a band of armed robbers arrives and wreaks havoc.

Becca Nickles was biding her time in line watching a lovely little girl and her handsome father communicate with each other through American Sign Language (ASL). 

When the robbers invade, Becca becomes an unwitting hero by volunteering to be their hostage, in the place of the frightened child.

Cade Tanner owes his little girl’s life to seemingly fearless Becca, and he will do whatever it takes to liberate the brave woman from the criminals.

The rescuer needs to be rescued. Will Cade and Becca be able to save each other in this suspenseful tale of robbery versus romance? Find out NOW in Daring Rescue.

DARING DESIRES:
1. Daring the Neighbor
2. Daring his Passion
3. Daring Rescue
4. Daring her Captor
5. Daring the Judge

Daring Rescue is part of the Daring Desires set. You can meet these sexy heroes in any order. They smudge lipstick, never mascara. Meet them now!

Leseprobe

Daring Rescue

Daring Desires

Ann Omasta

Contents

FREE Book!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Daring her Captor Sneak Peek

HOT Reviews

About the Author: Ann Omasta

Let’s stay in touch!

FREE Book!

Escape into the enchanting Hawaiian Islands by reading Leilani's heartwarming tale of friendship, love, and triumph after heartbreak.

Free when you join the author's VIP reader group. We value your privacy and never spam. Just tell us where to send your free novella.

Get Aloha, Baby!

1

To an outside observer, it probably would have seemed like a perfectly normal, possibly even boring, day at the Stonebrook Savings and Loan Bank. The stuffy, recirculated air smelled like a mixture of lemon-scented industrial cleaning supplies and old money.

With nothing better to do, I gazed around at the other people in line. Most of them were older, likely refusing to use the ATM, preferring instead to have the personal interaction of a teller. I was just the opposite. If I could have taken care of my banking business with a machine or automated system, I would have gladly chosen that, rather than standing in line to speak to a real person.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like people. In fact, the truth was just the opposite. I fiercely loved the few carefully selected people who were in my life, but I was a classic introvert. Social interaction in unfamiliar situations or in groups of people drained me. I liked to spend time alone or with my chosen few. Anything outside of that set my nerves on edge.

The man in the business suit, who was holding two zipped and locked embroidered pouches that proclaimed the name of a local jeweler, caught me looking at him. I immediately averted my gaze to stare at the sterile white and gray marble floor tile.

It wasn’t lost on me that my behavior made me seem awkward and shady, despite the fact that I had done nothing wrong. During my teen years, I always assumed I would grow out of my constant self-conscious mousiness and somehow turn into a confident and beautiful swan, but the time for that had passed and my transformation hadn’t yet occurred.

The movement of their hands caught my attention. They were standing in the next line over, just ahead of me, so I was able to watch them communicate without being noticed. The man was muscular, but not to the point of being bulky. I liked watching his back muscles and shoulders ripple as he used his hands to talk to the girl beside him.

The young lady, presumably his daughter, was adorable. She was tall and lanky with bright red hair and a smattering of freckles. While I wasn’t overly familiar with kids, I would guess her age to be somewhere between eight and ten.

I watched their hands, which were moving impossibly fast as they argued. Even though a crush on the American Sign Language instructor in college had convinced me to take several ASL classes, I was a bit rusty on the skill and had to struggle to pick out some of their words.

By laser focusing on the two of them, I was able to deduce that they were having a disagreement about the best ice cream flavor. Being so intent on their hands, I didn’t notice that they had seen me watching them and were now both looking back at me.

Feeling incredibly awkward at being caught staring, I did the first thing that came to my mind. Using my hands, I stumbled through the signs to indicate that I agreed with the girl and that chocolate chip was superior to strawberry, but only if it was mint chip. At least, that is what I hope I signed.

My message must have gotten across, because she beamed at me, revealing a missing canine tooth, obviously thrilled to have someone take her side. I couldn’t help but giggle at her happy dance as her father rolled his eyes over her victory.

The man lifted his fingers to his lips with his hand flat and then pointed them towards me to thank me. I wondered if he was being sarcastic and if sarcasm was even a thing in ASL, but then he beamed a huge smile at me. It was so similar to his daughter’s gap-toothed grin, yet the shock of having the brilliance of his perfect white smile aimed at me nearly bowled me over.

At that moment, I couldn’t have remembered the proper sign for “you’re welcome” if my life had depended on it, so I merely nodded, grinning and turning my gaze back down to the pristine marble flooring where it was safe.

I could feel my face burning with heat and figured that my cheeks had probably flared red extending all the way down to my neck. There was simply no hiding my lack of social graces when my complexion announced it to the world.

My line moved forward, so I was now standing slightly ahead of the handsome man and his daughter. I could feel their gazes occasionally glancing in my direction, but I kept my head down, not wanting to make even more of a fool of myself.

Trying not to think about them only made them more front and center in my mind. I was curious which one of them was deaf, or if they both were. I wondered if there was a mother / wife in the picture. I wanted to know their story, but since I would never be brave enough to ask, I figured I could make up one of my own.

Maybe they are here withdrawing money from the bank for a fun daddy-daughter excursion to the art museum or for pizza and a movie. Or they could be getting ready to take a trip and wanted cash in small bills to tip drivers and porters. Perhaps the girl recently had a birthday, and she had a check from grandma to deposit into her savings account.

The man’s clean cut, classic look made me think he was a responsible person, so I would guess that he would suggest to his daughter that she save part of her birthday money and only take a small portion of it in cash to blow on something fun.

I shook my head at myself, still looking down at the floor tiles. What kind of person makes up scenarios about the lives of random people in line near her? I can answer that for myself. It’s the kind of person like me, who has no social graces… someone who has to make up stories about strangers because she’s too scared to reach out and get to know them in real life… someone who is so frightened of leaving her comfort zone that she misses out on new experiences that could make her life exceptional… someone who is doomed to live an ordinary life.

Well, this boring soul’s life was about to get extraordinary. As I thought about what I was about to do, I felt the unfamiliar sensation of cool sweat dripping down my sides inside my purple silk shirt. I was not normally one to sweat profusely, but my nerves had suddenly kicked into high gear. Silently praying that the drops wouldn’t pool and make unsightly pit stains on my favorite blouse, I clamped both arms down against my body in an attempt to curb the perspiration trail.

Summoning all of my courage, I looked up and over at the intriguing pair in line next to me. It was so out of character for me to boldly stare at a gorgeous man, but something about his carefree interaction with his daughter drew my eyes like magnets.

The girl’s loud laughter echoed throughout the vaulted ceilings in the staid financial institution. It was obvious that she had no idea how her voice carried in the somber room. The joyous sound of her laugh was contagious. Her father chuckled with her, but the volume of his laugh was much more contained and muted. I knew now that the girl was the one who couldn’t hear, but her father apparently could.

It impressed me immensely that he didn’t attempt to shush the girl or quiet her down. He obviously wasn’t embarrassed by the outburst and didn’t want her to feel ashamed either.

The short, stout woman with silvery-blue pin curls that was just ahead of them in line turned her head to the side in the classic passive-aggressive maneuver that lets others know they are bothering you.

Seeing her, but obviously not letting it annoy him, the father said loud enough for the old bitty to hear, “Might as well have some fun, since we’re all stuck waiting in line.” He signed as he spoke, so his daughter wouldn’t have to read his lips. It was clear that signing his words came naturally to him. His crisp and flawless hand movements as he spoke made the skill appear to be effortless.

Obviously having heard the subtle reprimand, the older woman lifted her nose in the air, but faced forward unwilling to take on the protective father. I felt like cheering for him. It was refreshing to see a father who was willing to stand up for his child, without resorting to yelling or violence.

Slinging a casual arm around the girl’s tiny shoulders, the man leaned down to plant a sweet kiss on his daughter’s shiny red hair. She beamed up at him like he was a superhero. It was a lovely moment to witness. I just wished there was a way to insert myself into that picture, but at this point, the chances of me finding that kind of close-knit family seemed remote.

As if sensing my open scrutiny, the man locked eyes with me. I had been so dazzled by his smile earlier that I hadn’t noticed his piercing blue eyes. They were absolutely mesmerizing and framed by the kind of long, dark lashes that mascara commercials always promise, but never quite deliver. What I wouldn’t give to wake up every morning to a loving gaze from those ocean-blue stunners.

I couldn’t do anything but stare at him, shocked that we were sharing this intimate moment in line at the bank. While it probably didn’t mean anything to him, I was certain that I would daydream about this interaction for months to come––possibly years.

The teller had evidently been calling me forward to the desk because the man behind me tapped my shoulder to pull me out of my trance. Startled and embarrassed over being caught gawking at a total stranger, I shuffled forward to beg forgiveness for my car loan payment that was three days late.

If they assessed a penalty for it being tardy, I would end up having to pay interest on that because I had been forced to count my loose change to come up with enough for the payment this month. I hated being late or owing anyone anything, but my waitressing job usually barely provided me with enough income to scrape by. This month’s tips had been exceptionally light, so I had been eating Ramen noodles and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for weeks.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that the man and his daughter were now also moving up to the teller counter. I didn’t want him to overhear my money woes conversation from the next station, so I angled my body away from them.

Anxious sweat was pouring off me as I gave my teller a brittle smile, “Hi,” I started, licking my parched lips and feeling exceptionally nervous. I had never done anything like this before.

The impossibly loud “BANG!” of a gunshot startled us all. I froze, unable to move or even breathe as I watched plaster fall down onto the bank’s pristine floors from the hole that had just been shot into the ceiling.

“This is a holdup!” a loud voice yelled. “Everyone on the ground, NOW!”

2

My legs fell out from underneath me as if they were no longer willing or able to support my weight. I scrabbled on the floor trying to get as far from the men with guns as possible, but since I was blocked by the teller stand, I couldn’t move much.

I was vaguely aware of frightened screams and a flurry of terrified movement around me, but it felt like I was underwater in a very bad nightmare. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as my pulse pounded wildly in my head.

Almost involuntarily, my head turned to the side. My panicked eyes were frantically rolling in their sockets, but I still noticed the father’s complexion as he sat beside me. What had been a healthy tan was now deathly pale as he moved his body to shield his daughter. Even in this moment of absolute terror, I felt drawn to him.

The thieves were yelling and flailing their guns around. Things were happening quickly, but my mind felt like it was trying to trudge through quicksand. It couldn’t keep up with everything that was going on around me.