Rescue on the Run

by Jaycee Bullard

  “Amen,” Cal echoed.

  He had always believed in the power of prayer. His faith had sustained him through the death of his wife, Shannon, and given him hope as he faced each new day. And they certainly needed divine help now more than ever.

  Especially as he remembered the complications involved in the birth of his now-ten-year-old nephew and a last-second decision to perform a Cesarean. What if Isobel’s case turned out to be similar? What if her baby was breech? He could think of way too many potential problems that could only be resolved in a hospital delivery room. He cast a glance in Abby’s direction. Her eyes were smudged with fatigue, and worry lines had appeared on her forehead.

  Maybe she wasn’t quite as confident as she had sounded. Normally, he was aware of a civilian’s sensitivities. But there was something about Abby that made him forget she was operating out of her comfort zone.

  Isobel groaned again and then collapsed back onto the couch, her eyes closed and her breathing steady. As impossible as it was to believe, it looked like she was about to sneak in another catnap between labor pains. Now was their chance to make a plan.

  “Are you holding up okay?” He turned toward Abby and forced a small smile.

  She nodded. “I am. But we need to get her out of here and to a hospital. I don’t understand it, but her labor seems to be proceeding at a fast and furious rate. I can keep her comfortable and even deliver the baby if it comes to that. But I’m worried about possible complications with the birth.”

  He was, too. A feeling of helplessness washed over him. He needed to do something, anything, instead of just standing around and waiting for the next shoe to fall. For a second time, he raked his eyes around the room, backtracking his gaze when he noticed a vent on the side of the wall.

  But before he could investigate, shouting drifted in from the hall.

  “Calm down. We need to wait.”

  “I say we kill them now and take our chances,” a woman’s voice said.

  Her partner was quick to respond. “No. The female hostage is a paramedic. We should keep her alive, at least for the time being, especially given Tomas’s injuries. But the cowboy is expendable and can be eliminated.”

  Cal sucked in a long breath and looked at Abby. She was bent over the couch, tending to Isobel, and it was hard to tell whether or not she had overheard any part of the conversation.

  He hoped she hadn’t. Abby needed to focus on Isobel without worrying about him. The question was how long did he have before the robbers decided to pull the trigger? One minute? Ten minutes? Would he have time to make a plan?

  His eyes pivoted back to the door, and pinpricks of awareness shot up his arms as he registered that the knob was slowly turning.

  Apparently, he wouldn’t have the luxury to weigh the options.

  The door swung open, and two of the perps stepped inside. There was no sign of the older man he had shot in the lobby, but the other two—Max and Martina—had their guns drawn, clearly intending to make good on their threat.

  A wave of apprehension flooded Cal’s body, and he clenched his fingers into tight fists as Max moved toward Abby. “What’s all the commotion?”

  Abby turned and looked him in the eye. “Our friend is in labor. She needs to be taken to the hospital and seen by a doctor immediately.”

  Max furrowed his brow. For a moment, it appeared that he was considering her suggestion.

  That’s right, Max. Go see what is happening with Isobel over there on the couch, Cal offered silent encouragement as a jolt of adrenaline surged through his veins. If Max moved just a few feet farther across the room, there was a chance of engineering an escape. The door was open, and it would only take a few seconds to reach the hall. And if he made it to the lobby, he might be able to retrieve a gun from the injured shooter, and after that... He flexed his fingers and kept his eyes glued to Max.

  Like a base runner on first calculating the odds of stealing to second, he edged another step closer to the door, and then—

  “Stop.” Martina raised her pistol and pointed it at his chest. “One more move, and you’ll be dead.”

  Max met his partner’s eye and nodded his head. “Go ahead and kill him, Martina. It’s time to put an end to this silly game.”

  THREE

  Abby stood stock-still as fear and anxiety paralyzed her limbs. If she didn’t act quickly, Cal would be dead. But what could she do? Without a weapon, she couldn’t stop Martina from pulling the trigger. Except... She thought back to the conversation she had heard in the hall. Maybe she wasn’t completely out of options. She pushed back her shoulders and looked past Martina toward Max. He seemed to be the one in charge. And he was definitely the less trigger-happy of the two.

  “If you shoot my friend, I won’t help you,” she said. “I won’t do anything you ask of me, and I won’t patch up your injured friend.”

  Max bent his lips into an angry sneer. “Who do you think you are? Don’t you know that you are the hostage here, and hostages don’t make demands of their captors? Whether or not you help us is your choice. But if you refuse to cooperate, we will kill all of you, including the pregnant woman. What do you think of that?”

  Abby pulled in a deep breath and held Max’s stare. Her senses raced on high alert as she tried to gauge whether Max meant what he said in the hall or if he was bluffing. It was hard to tell. His eyes were hard, and his hand holding his pistol didn’t waver. But his finger wasn’t on the trigger. At least not yet. “What do I think?” She returned his glare with a determined one of her own. “I don’t like it. But I’m a hundred percent serious about what I just said. You can threaten me all you want, but I won’t cooperate if you harm my friend.”

  “Ha!” Max spit out the word like a bad seed. “You think you can bargain to save your worthless companion’s life. Well, you are wrong.”

  Dread snaked up Abby’s spine. Max was calling her out. If she was going to take a stance, it was now or never. She lifted her foot to plant herself between Cal and the robbers, but before she could take a single stride, Max’s lips turned up in a cruel smile as his finger closed around the trigger.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  The pistol fired three times.

  Isobel’s scream pierced the air as the bullets whizzed rapid-fire in quick succession, splintering through the drywall, inches from Cal’s head.

  Thank you, God. Abby’s fingers shook as she bent over and squeezed Isobel’s hand. “Stay calm, Iz. He missed. Cal’s okay.”

  “Shut up,” Max replied. “I didn’t miss. I aimed at the wall on purpose. You don’t know who you are dealing with here. If there are any further problems, we will shoot all three of you without a second thought. Come, Martina. Stop glaring at the cowboy. You can kill him later. We need to go and check on Tomas.”

  Max turned and followed Martina out of the room.

  As the lock clicked in place on the door, Abby’s eyes darted toward Cal, who was still standing motionless in the middle of the room. His face was a mask of controlled emotion, which made it impossible to tell what he was thinking. But how could he not be shaken and afraid? Had he thought it was the end? She had. The impossibility of the situation suddenly hit her hard. They were hostages in a bank heist with a pair of ruthless robbers who had already killed once. Was it a just a matter of time before Martina got her way and eliminated all three of them?

  “Cal.” Her voice shook as she met and held his glance. “I thought you were dead,” she finally choked out. The rest of her words dissolved in a flood of tears.

  He reached toward her and touched her arm. “Don’t cry, Abby. You did good. It was incredibly courageous the way you stood your ground in the face of their threats. You didn’t back down. You were tough, and they saw that. You saved my life.”

  “But I—” She was suddenly speechless. What Cal had just said might have been one of the nicest things anyone had ev
er said to her.

  Isobel sat up on the couch, fear darkening her countenance. “Why are they doing this? Scaring us with bullets and threats. Why don’t they just take what they came for and let us go?”

  “I don’t know, Iz,” Abby said. Once again, she looked at Cal. His eyes held hers as he shook his head. None of this made sense. But at least for the moment, they were all still alive.

  “Oh. Aggh.” Isobel turned on her side and grasped her stomach. “It’s happening again. Abby, help me. It hurts.”

  Abby swiveled around to look at the clock on the wall, silently computing the time in her head. Isobel’s contractions were less than five minutes apart. Which meant that her labor continued to progress at an accelerated rate.

  “Okay, Iz. I’m going to count to ten, and I want you to take small breaths and follow along with me. Ready? It’s just like you learned in Lamaze class. You took Lamaze, right?”

  Isobel nodded.

  “Good. Concentrate on working through the pain, not fighting against it. One, two, three,” Abby counted, as Isobel made an effort to control her breathing.

  Abby’s stomach clenched with trepidation. Isobel’s pains were getting stronger—and closer together. If her calculations were correct, the baby would be born within the hour. And it would be up to her to make sure that mom and baby were both okay.

  She struggled to calm her racing heart. Cal said she was brave. But she wasn’t entirely sure that she was up to the challenge of delivering a baby in the break room without any of the proper supplies. The last time she helped a pregnant woman give birth, the mother-to-be was in the back seat of a Volvo, parked in front of a Dollar Store. Compared to those cramped conditions, the situation in the break room was almost luxurious. But what they gained in roominess was lost when factoring in the lack of sterile gauze, clamps or a bulb syringe. For this delivery, none of those items were available. But so far, Isobel was holding her own, though at the moment her face was pink and overheated. Of course, her blood pressure could spike at any moment. The baby could turn. Who knew what difficulties lay ahead of them?

  And even if the birth took place without complications, the baby would simply become the littlest hostage.

  “You doing okay, you two?” Cal moved across the room and began opening and closing the cabinets next to the sink.

  “We’re doing great. Isobel’s a champ.”

  Cal stood still for a moment and then took a deep breath as if to shake off the panic of the past few minutes. He nodded and then reached up and pulled a mesh bag of oranges from a shelf above the counter. “Hey, look at this. Not the most balanced meal, but they’ll do for our supper.”

  “Supper?” She supposed she ought to be hungry since it was well past the dinner hour. But eating was the last thing on her mind, especially after Cal’s near-death encounter with Max and Martina.

  Cal selected an orange from the bag and tossed it in the air. “These remind me of last June when I went deep-sea fishing in the Keys. It was a trip of a lifetime. I could have stayed there forever. Clear skies. Perfect weather. Water that sparkled in the sun.”

  Huh? Cal’s trip to Florida last summer was an odd subject to be discussing under the circumstances. But he seemed so pleased with himself that it was easier to roll with it. Maybe he was just trying to ease the tension that lingered in the air.

  “Yeah. I remember when you took that trip. Sounds like it was quite a vacation.”

  “Absolutely. Trolling off the coast for bluefins. Eating conch. Running my toes through the sand. On the way home, I even made a stop at Cape Canaveral. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I was glad I did it. I’ve always been fascinated by the space program, especially the stories of the early flights. Alan Shepard. Scott Carpenter. John Glenn. Want one?” He peeled the orange and sectioned it into pieces and then held out a slice.

  She shook her head, biting at a fingernail. It was an old, bad habit. Something she hadn’t done in years. But the lighthearted tone of Cal’s story was confusing, and she didn’t cope well with situations she didn’t understand.

  “So, what do you know about John Glenn?” Cal asked, his eyes suddenly serious. “Apart from the fact that he was an astronaut and a senator. Did you know that when Glenn was seventy-seven, he volunteered to go back into space for one last mission? And here’s a surprising fact few people recall. In 1962, he testified before a House subcommittee in favor of excluding women from the space program. After that, not one woman flew for NASA until Sally Ride.”

  Aha. Her lips tightened. Cal had always been supportive of females in the department, so she wasn’t sure where his story was going. But she was prepared for an unexpected twist in the tale.

  He popped two sections of the orange in his mouth and chewed them thoughtfully. He waited as she helped Isobel through another hard contraction and then he continued. “Of course, Glenn changed his mind and went on to support the careers of a number of women in the program. He showed the world how he learned from his mistake and how he was determined to make amends.”

  “Uh-huh.” From the knowing pleat at the corner of his mouth, it was clear that there was going to be an additional punch line to hammer home the moral of the story just to be sure.

  “The important part of the learning curve is what comes afterward.” He dropped his gaze to meet hers. “The unexpected opportunity to reset the scene and start again. Like with the two of us.”

  Well, she hadn’t seen that coming. A flush of heat crept up her neck. Was Cal referring to the awkward vibe that had existed between the two of them since their disastrous attempt at a first date? The story about John Glenn was certainly a roundabout method of opening the discussion, but she appreciated the effort.

  Because the way it had all gone down bothered her, as well. She certainly hadn’t handled the situation with finesse or grace at any point in its unfolding. It had taken months dodging matchmaking attempts by mutual friends before she had reluctantly agreed to meet Cal for dinner.

  Their so-called date happened a year-and-a-half ago, but her cheeks still burned at the memory of how she had left Cal waiting at the restaurant when she called at the last minute to cancel. She hadn’t even offered a credible excuse. It was bad form on her part, but here was Cal, suggesting that they ought to “reset the scene and start again.”

  If it was only that easy.

  She pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was her opportunity to explain her reasons for bailing on him that night. But that would mean telling Cal about the adoption.

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t show up that night for our dinner. The truth is, I was about to leave for the restaurant when I got a call from Children and Family Services about Davey Lightfoot.”

  “Davey Lightfoot?” Cal’s eyebrows shot up. “I know him. Tough family situation. Great kid, though.”

  “I agree.” Abby beamed. “And—” She hesitated. But she had gone this far, so she might as well present Cal with the whole unvarnished truth. “I had just begun the process of trying to adopt him, and I was hitting all the usual roadblocks along the way. As you know, his Mom passed away about two years ago, and his father died in a boating accident before he was born. His grandparents knew they couldn’t handle raising a small child on their own, but they weren’t certain if foster care was a better solution. For a while, it looked like the adoption wasn’t going to happen at all. The night of our date, I got a call that they wanted to meet with me and Davey’s social worker to talk about the next step in moving the process forward. I had to go. I couldn’t say no, but I should have explained what was going on.”

  “So?” He raised an interested brow. “It’s been over a year. Has the adoption been approved?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. That call I missed when I dropped my phone outside on the stoop might have provided an answer to that question. I can only hope and pray that it was good news and when and if
we get out of here, I can start making plans to bring Davey home.”

  “I hope so, too.” Cal’s grin was wide and warm. Really, his face was transformed when he smiled. His eyes crinkled at the edges, and his features softened just enough to hide the gruffness of his outward demeanor. “I’m glad you told me, Abby. It’s not something I generally talk about, but I’m adopted, too. And I was blessed to be raised by two of the most wonderful parents in the world. So I really admire what you’re trying to do for Davey. And to your other point, I assure you that we are getting out of here, so you need to start organizing your to-do list to get ready to bring Davey home to live with you.”

  She smiled back at him. It was kind of Cal to focus on the positive and not remind her—at least not directly—that she was mostly to blame for the awkwardness between them. Kind. That was what he was. But just because Cal was being cordial didn’t change the fact that their date had been a mistake. Neither one of them had been looking for a relationship. She had only agreed to meet him for dinner as a way of silencing the matchmakers. Romance had never been part of her long-term plan. Besides, she was all in on adopting Davey. And Cal still seemed the same grieving widower he had been when he arrived in town. He never spoke of his late wife, but his silence suggested a deep pain.

  “I really appreciate the support, Cal. And I’m glad for the chance to clear the air by telling you about Davey.”

  There was a sound of shuffling from the couch, and Abby turned her attention back to her patient. Isobel’s eyes blinked open as she turned and faced Abby. “Do you really think I am going to have my baby tonight?”

  “Maybe. But right now, you have to listen to your body and stay as relaxed as you can.”