They scrambled to do as she’d asked.
Leah rushed outside. In less than a minute, Mason and Annie exited. A minute after that, a middle-school-aged version of Claire slipped from the house. Her skin was ashen, her mouth set. This must be Becca.
“He’s not going to let Claire leave,” Becca told Leah flatly.
“No?”
The girl gave an abrupt shake of her head—
Wes jerked open the door. His attention swept to the three children in the yard. His brow crimped. “You can take them, but not Claire. She’s grounded.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. She’s been struggling slightly with the concept of integrals, and the display does a great job of illustrating that in a way I think will help her understand.”
“She’s not going,” he said.
Claire would want her to take Becca, Mason, and Annie away. Yet everything in her was rebelling at the prospect of leaving Claire behind. Should she brave further entreaties?
No. Wes’s expression left no room for that.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll be back with these three shortly.” Or not. How was she going to handle this? She didn’t have the right to kidnap this man’s children.
The kids bundled inside her car. Three was better than none. She’d get them somewhere safe, discuss the situation with the police, then decide what to do about Claire. She executed a U-turn in order to leave the neighborhood.
“Wait,” Becca said as they drove back past the house. “There’s Claire.”
Motion caught Leah’s eye. Claire, climbing out one of the downstairs windows. Leah’s heart wadded in her throat. The girl’s head and shoulders were out, but when she tried to step through, something held her in place. She tugged but could go no farther.
“We have to help her!” Annie cried.
“I will. Just let me . . . let me park out of sight.”
Two houses down, she came to a halt. “Wait here.” She dashed toward Claire.
Claire was weeping silently when Leah reached her. The teenager strained forward. “My sweater’s caught.”
“I’ll help you.”
“No, you’d better go, Ms. Montgomery.” Making a ragged sound, she heaved forward again. It was like watching an animal trying to escape from a trap. Behind Claire lay a messy bedroom and a discarded window screen, but Wes wasn’t in sight.
“I’ll help you,” Leah repeated forcefully. The knit of Claire’s sweater had snarled in the crank handle. Leah wrapped her fingers around the threads and pulled. They began to give way. “Move to the side, Claire.”
The girl did so. Leah got a better grip and yanked with all her might. This time, they ripped. She supported Claire as the girl jumped down. They jogged, holding hands, toward the car.
They’d only gone a few yards when Claire’s dad stormed from the house, swearing. “Stop!” he yelled.
Claire wrenched to a halt, separating herself from Leah.
“What is this?” Wes glared at Leah’s car, then at Leah. “Are you stealing my children from me?”
“No, sir.” Her voice sounded thin. “As we were pulling away, we saw Claire trying to get through her window. I stopped to help her.”
“I told you that she’s grounded.” Another expletive hissed from him. “You didn’t think you were in enough trouble already?” he demanded of Claire. “So you decided to sneak out?”
Claire stared at the grass.
He turned away. Took a few paces toward the door. Rounded on them again. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Claire is not leaving,” he spat. “None of them are leaving.” He threw one of the metal chairs in their direction. They darted apart. The chair clattered between them, narrowly missing them both.
Wes charged to Claire, grabbed her forearm, and marched her toward the house.
“No!” Leah extended a hand. “I’m very sorry. I don’t want Claire to get in trouble—”
A blur shot past Leah. Then another. Becca and Mason launched themselves at their dad, trying to free Claire. He shoved them away.
“That’s enough!” Leah yelled. “Stop—”
Pattering footsteps neared. Leah turned to see Annie hurtling toward the mob. Leah intercepted her, wrapping her arms around the girl’s waist. Screeching in outrage, Annie flailed.
“You can help them best by going to get a neighbor,” Leah told her. “Any neighbor you trust who you think might be home.” She set the girl down.
Annie froze.
“Go!” Leah ordered. Annie sprinted away.
Leah moved toward Wes, who continued to grapple with his children. Hateful words roared from him as he thrust Mason to the ground and tossed Becca aside. Mason sprang back at his father. While Wes’s attention was on his son, Leah drew Becca away, then attempted to pry Claire from his grip. Just when she thought she might succeed, Wes’s elbow collided with her cheekbone.
The impact filled Leah’s vision with stars. She stumbled back. Her equilibrium tilted . . . the world dimmed . . . then slowly righted itself.
Wes was far stronger than any of them individually and maybe all of them collectively. Claire and her siblings were already hurt, and he’d hurt them more severely—
A figure barreled forward and entered the fray with the force of a silent and deadly wind.
Sebastian, she realized.
Sebastian.
He threw a punch at Wes that connected with the older man’s jaw. Wes’s head snapped to the side, and his hold on Claire released.
With quicksilver speed, Sebastian positioned the kids and Leah behind himself. “Get back,” he gritted out.
Leah steered the kids a safe distance away.
Wes stormed at Sebastian, his shoulders lowered so that he caught Sebastian in the stomach and drove him into the ground. They rolled, struggling. Wes rose on top, clobbering Sebastian with a fist to the temple. He pulled his arm back again—
Leah shoved Wes to the side. He fell and the two men wrestled, each landing blows to the other’s ribs.
A stranger—a muscular man in his fifties—entered the scene. He hauled Wes off Sebastian. Wes retaliated by swinging at the stranger, barely missing him.
Sebastian gained his feet. Together, he and the stranger worked to subdue Wes. It was like bringing down a thrashing bull, but they finally pushed him facedown on the grass and held him there.
Wes continued to swear and strain.
Leah’s pulse jangled. Her breath came hard. The children were breathing hard, too—all of them blinking and shell-shocked. “Is everyone all right?” Leah asked.
They nodded, though they didn’t look all right. Mason had a split lip. A red ring marked the skin of Claire’s forearm where her father had gripped her.
Annie hugged Claire. “I went and got our neighbor, Mr. Hawthorne,” the little girl whispered to Leah.
“You did very well.”
A police car arrived at the curb. A stout officer with a graying crew cut crossed to them. His name tag read Wagner. “What happened here?”
“He assaulted his children,” Leah said, “as well as these two men.”
“The children attacked me,” Wes sneered.
“The kids were trying to protect one another from him,” Leah said.