Page 58 of Jenna's Threatened Sanctuary

He jumped onto the landing and darted forward. A burgundy curtain blocked his view from the muffled voices on the other side. He pushed it aside and stepped onto the main altar in the sanctuary. Terror tightened every muscle in his body as he searched for Jenna. His gaze traveled down the long aisle of the church and locked on Father Bowman with one arm hooked around Jenna’s waist, the other hand cupping her jaw.

Father Bowman spun around, keeping Jenna pressed against his body. His mouth slid into an evil smirk, his eyes narrowed and menacing.

Jenna’s eyes flew open and widened. Her skin was ashen and even from a distance he could make out a sheen of sweat coating her forehead.

Anger heated Calvin’s blood. He walked down the three steps, keeping his gaze locked on Jenna. “Let her go.”

Father Bowman released her jaw. He pushed his hand into the front pocket of his trousers and pulled out a switchblade. Aquick flick of his wrist released the sharp point. He pressed it against Jenna’s jugular. “I don’t think so.”

Calvin stopped. “Don’t do anything stupid. The cops are on their way. They know all about you. They know you were married to Tracey Mayfield.”

Father Bowman rested his cheek against the top of Jenna’s head and grinned. “I’m surprised these stupid small-town cops figured it out.”

Sliding one foot forward, Calvin kept his breathing steady and mind sharp. Something wasn’t right with Jenna. Her head bobbed up and down as if she continued to jerk herself awake.

Sonofabitch.

“What’s wrong with her? What did you do?”

Father Bowman snickered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. She doesn’t feel well. I told her we should go get help.”

Jenna’s body went limp. No tension set her muscles as Bowman kept her upright. Dammit. If Bowman didn’t do something stupid with the switchblade, whatever he’d used to drug her could kill her. Her eyelids fluttered. She lowered her lashes, her eyes closing briefly before they snapped open again.

“Did you drug Stella, too?”

Bowman laughed and used the point of the blade to scratch his chin before pressing it against Jenna’s skin again. “Why do you even care? She’s the reason you aren’t a cop, right? She destroyed your dream and ended your relationship with Jenna. You should be grateful I killed her.”

Calvin took a small step forward. Jenna’s face had turned a pasty white, her lips cracked. “Stella didn’t deserve to die.”

“Yes, she did,” Father Bowman snapped. “I spent so much time on her. Getting her clean. Grooming her. Planning on how to use her just right to hurt Jenna. First by taking back the stupid kid.” Bowman contorted his face and growled. He pushedthe point of the blade harder against Jenna’s flesh. “But Stella couldn’t close the deal.”

Jenna didn’t so much as flinch, even as a rivulet of blood dripped from her neck.

“Enough small talk,” Bowman snapped.

Calvin chanced another step. “You’re right. Enough talk. Just let Jenna go.”

“Why would I do that? She’s my ticket out of this place.” Bowman walked backward, dragging Jenna with him. “Besides, she took everything from me—her actions killed the woman I loved more than anything in this world. She doesn’t deserve to live.”

Jenna blinked rapidly, shifting her weight, her body lurching as if unable to control her movements.

Calvin took another step.

Bowman clicked his tongue. “Stop. Now. I see what you’re doing. Time is up. Jenna’s coming with me. If you take another step, I’ll slash her throat.”

Calvin tensed. His heart pounded in his ears. Where the hell was Cruz? He couldn’t let Bowman walk out of here with Jenna. He couldn’t lose her again.

Jenna struggledagainst the weights pulling down her eyelids. She tried to listen, tried to move, tried to do anything except sway on her feet. The words between Calvin and Father Bowman garbled in her ringing ears.

But she didn’t need to hear their exchange to see the fear in Calvin’s eyes.

Rough hands grabbed her and yanked her backward. She faltered over her feet, her limbs no use to her. She locked hergaze on Calvin. He stood rooted to the spot. His hands fisted at his sides. She shifted her weight on her heels, but the added pressure didn’t do a damn thing to stop her feet from being dragged along the burgundy runner on the aisle of the church.

“You won’t get far,” Calvin said. “Officer Sawyer is on to you. He’s on his way.”

The blade of the knife dug further into her tender flesh. A dull pain throbbed against the wound, the drugs at least lessening the pain.

But they wouldn’t do anything for her if Bowman escaped with her—or jammed the blade further into her skin.

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