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“Sam!”

He was sitting on the concrete floor, propped against a wall, bound hand and foot, a gag in his mouth. His eyes were wide, dilated with terror. How long had the bastard left him sitting in the dark?

“Sam!” She was on her knees next to him, working the gag loose. “It’s all right, honey. I’ll have you loose in just another second.” She got the gag off him. “You okay?”

“Becca?”

A thin little voice, barely there, and she nearly wept. “It’s all right,” she said again. “Let me get you untied, then we’ll go upstairs and I’ll make you some hot chocolate and wrap you up in a real warm blanket.”

He didn’t say anything more, not that she expected him to. She got his ankles and wrists untied and lifted him in her arms. When she got back into the kitchen, she sat down with him and began rubbing the feeling back into his wrists and ankles. “It will be all right now, Sam. Do you hurt anywhere else?”

He shook his head. Then he said, “I was scared, Becca, real scared.”

“I know, baby, I know. But you’re with me now. I’m not going to let you out of my sight.” She carried him into the living room and wrapped him in an afghan. Then she went back to the kitchen, sat him down in a chair, the blanket firmly wrapped around him. “Now some hot chocolate. You hungry, Sam?”

He shook his head. “I want Rachel. My tummy feels weird. She knows what to do.”

“Mine would, too, if I’d been through what you have. I’ll tell your dad that you want Rachel.” While the water heated, she poured the cocoa mix into a cup. Then she held Sam close again, telling him how brave he was, how everything was all right now, how she would call his father. While Sam was drinking the chocolate, Becca, not taking her eyes off him, pulled out her cell phone and called Tyler. “I’ve got him. He’s safe.”

“Thank God. Where are you?”

“At home. Krimakov put him in the basement. He’s all right, Tyler.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Obviously they’d all heard her but had waited to see if Krimakov was going to show himself. But no longer. Sam was safe. Still, there wasn’t a sign of Krimakov. She’d forgotten to tell Tyler to get Rachel.

Adam came through the back door like an avenging angel. Then he saw Sam’s white face, saw that the little kid was all wrapped up in a pale-green afghan. He wanted to kill Krimakov with his bare hands.

He slowed down, pinned a big smile on his face. He came down on his haunches beside him. “Hi, Sam. You’re the youngest hero I’ve ever known.”

Sam stared at him for a minute, then he smiled, a really big smile. “Really?”

Adam was surprised to hear even that one short word out of him. “Really. The youngest. Boy, am I impressed. Do you think you could tell Becca and me what happened?”

Tyler came running through the front door. He stopped cold when he saw the three of them, but his eyes were on Becca first, then slowly he looked at his son.

He didn’t say another word, just scooped up Sam in his arms and sat down with him. He rocked him back and forth. Becca thought the contact was more for Tyler than to comfort his son. Finally, he raised his head and said quietly, “Tell me what happened.”

Becca told him, short, stripped sentences, no emotion in them, stark facts, no details.

“But why did this Krimakov take Sam when all he did was get you here then tell you he was here in the house?”

“I don’t know. Adam, did any of you see him? Did you see anything at all?”

Adam shook his head. “We’ve been looking, behind every damned tree.”

She wished then that she hadn’t reminded Tyler that Adam was here. His eyes narrowed, he hugged Sam more tightly to him. “You bastard, this is all your fault.”

“Get a grip, McBride. Your son is all right. Now, if you don’t mind, let’s see if Sam can tell us anything about the guy who took him. You know it’s important. You don’t want Krimakov to get Becca again, do you?”

Tyler said, “Sam rarely says anything, you know that.”

“He had a thick sock over his head. I never saw him. He gave me potato chips to eat. I was real hungry, but he told me to