Protecting Her Child

by Debby Giusti

  Rubbing her stomach, she was rewarded with a fairly substantial kick to her inner abdomen.

  Thank You, God.

  The baby had come through the crash unharmed.

  Now to focus her attention on the next problem. How to untangle herself from the air bag.

  She pushed the yards of lifeless fabric to the side and reached for the car door as the sound of another door opening drew her attention.

  A steel-gray pickup with an extended cab and tinted windows sat on the side of the road. A man draped in shadow walked around the back of the truck.

  Clawing at her door, Meredith tried to push it open, then threw her full weight against the resistant metal.

  “Please,” she moaned. Currents of fear zigzagging down her spine.

  She unbuckled her seat belt and raised her leg to climb over the console. Surely the passenger-side door would open. But with the baby wedged against the steering wheel, she couldn’t move.

  Again, she pushed on the driver’s-side door, her eyes riveted on the man who walked resolutely toward her car.

  If she screamed, who would hear her? She needed to protect herself and her child.

  Her hand touched the knife in her pocket.

  Frantically, she opened the blade.

  Holding it in her right hand, she turned to face the door.

  The man stepped closer. Short black hair, wide eyes, stubble that lined his chin. Even in the shadows, she could see the sneer that tugged at his lips.

  Her heart pounded relentlessly against her chest, warning her of the danger. As if she needed a warning.

  He reached for the door handle and chuckled, a deep, maniacal sound that sent another bevy of chills rolling through her body.

  Meredith hid the knife in the folds of her sweater.

  “Looks like you were trying to run away.” He pulled the door open and reached for her arm.

  Meredith lunged. The knife slashed into his flesh.

  He cried in pain and drew back.

  She stabbed the air, hoping to force him away from the car so she could climb out and run for cover.

  Initially, her jab had caught him off guard. Now he was focused completely on her. His hand crashed into her shoulder. She screamed as pain slammed through her.

  He caught her wrist in a viselike grip, forcing the knife to drop from her fingers.

  Anger blazed in his eyes.

  He stooped, picked up the knife and raised his hand to strike.

  FIVE

  After Meredith’s hasty retreat on the beach, Pete grabbed his bag, left the motel room, climbed into his Jeep and headed north, following her car’s taillights. No telling where she was going this time of night.

  She’d claimed she needed space. In his mind that meant time alone to process the information he’d piled on her slender shoulders.

  If that’s what she wanted, so be it. He’d hang back, letting her think she was on her own, all the while keeping her car in view.

  Except he’d lost sight of her a couple miles back.

  Just so long as she didn’t turn off the main road.

  Surely, once he rounded the curve ahead, he’d catch sight of her again. At least, he hoped he would.

  Pete clutched the wheel and made the turn.

  His heart slammed into his throat. Meredith’s car sat nose down in a deep ravine. A man stood by the driver’s door, hand raised, ready to strike.

  Pete swerved to the side of road and sprang from the Jeep.

  “No!” he screamed. Adrenaline pumping, hands flailing, he raced headlong down the steep incline.

  The guy jumped back and scurried up the hill away from Pete.

  As much as he wanted to slam his fist into the guy’s jaw, Pete’s first concern was Meredith.

  The punk climbed into his pickup and drove out of sight.

  Pete neared Meredith’s car. His gut tightened as he spotted the deflated air bag spilling out of the open door, droplets of blood splattered across the fabric.

  “Meredith?”

  He saw movement, and relief swept over him.

  She was alive.

  “Pete?”

  He leaned into the car and touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  She grimaced and tried to smile.

  “What hurts?”

  “Maybe everything.”

  He worked his hands down her arms then checked her knees and ankles. “Anything broken?”

  “No. Really, I’m okay.”

  He dug in his pocket for his BlackBerry. “I’ll call 911 for an ambulance and the police.”

  She grabbed his hand, her eyes wide. “Don’t call anyone.”

  “But the baby?”

  “I felt movement after the crash.”

  He pointed to the splatter pattern. “There’s blood, Meredith. You’re injured.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not my blood. Now get me out of here.”

  Evidently, she’d fought back. Good for her.

  He spied the knife on the ground, stooped to retrieve it and placed it in her outstretched hand.

  “Any idea who that guy was?”

  She bit her lip.

  “Come on, Meredith. No more secrets. What’s going on?”

  “I…I’m not sure.”

  “You need the police.”

  She shook her head. “Please, Pete, believe me. Involving the police will just cause more problems.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Trust me. Okay?”

  “On the beach tonight, you said I didn’t know a thing about you. Now you’re asking me to trust you?”

  “I don’t have anyone else.”

  The truth in her words gripped his heart. Alone, pregnant, on the run. He couldn’t turn his back on her now. Besides, she was Eve’s daughter. Despite everything that had happened, Eve had been there when he’d needed someone growing up.

  Reaching across the wheel, Pete turned off the engine and pulled the key from the ignition.

  “Easy does it,” he cautioned, supporting her as she pivoted in the seat and dropped her legs to the ground.

  Her knees gave out when she tried to stand. He wrapped his arm more tightly around her shoulders. “There’s no hurry. Let’s take it one step at a time.”

  Her head dropped against him, her hair spilling over his chest. Her closeness stirred him.

  He rubbed her shoulder, continuing to hold her. “You should see a doctor.”

  “Who’d have to notify the police. I told you, I don’t want them involved.”

  Pete grumbled under his breath. “At least let me check the baby’s heartbeat. I worked as a medic for a while in the army and keep a first aid kit in my Jeep.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand then pointed back to her car. “Would you mind grabbing my purse, and there’s a tote bag in the trunk.”

  Pete retrieved both, then helped her up the hill and eased her into the passenger seat of his Jeep. Once she was settled, he pulled the first aid kit from the rear and held the stethoscope to her belly, hearing the rapid beat of a healthy fetus. “Baby’s heart sounds fine.”

  She dropped her head against the seat rest and sighed. “Thank God.”

  Noting her pallor, Pete grabbed a bottle of water from behind the seat, twisted off the cap and offered it to her.

  Meredith took two long swigs before glancing up, her brow raised. “So why’d you follow me?”

  He smiled. “I don’t give up when something’s important.”

  “You probably thought I was running away.”

  “Weren’t you?”

  “Maybe, but not from you.”

  “Eve can help, Meredith. Don’t let your pride get in the way.”

  As soon as the words escaped his mouth, he was struck by a sense of déjà vu. Veronica had said the same thing yesterday in regard to his funding.

  “Pride has nothing to do with it, Pete.”

  “Talking might help.” Not that he practiced what he preached.


  Meredith stared at him for a long moment, then placed the water bottle in the console.

  “When I was eleven, I told my adoptive father I wanted to be with my real mother.”

  “And his reaction?”

  “He took off his belt and beat me, which was his usual response to opposition.”

  She swallowed hard. “As much as the belt hurt, his words stung more. He said she lived in a beautiful house with servants and pretty clothes and she could do anything she wanted because she didn’t have me.”

  Meredith studied her hands. “That night, I decided if my mother didn’t want me, then I didn’t want her either.”

  “What he said was a lie, Meredith. Your mother wanted to keep you, and she wants to reconnect with you now.”

  Meredith looked up at him, and her troubled eyes cut through to his heart. “Then why’d she wait so long to try to find me?”

  “Because she thought you were in a good place.”

  Before he could say anything else, Meredith gasped. He followed her gaze. Headlights stabbed the night, coming toward them.

  “He’s back,” she whispered.

  Pete glanced at her auto, angled into the ditch. Anyone passing by would probably notify the police.

  Not what Meredith wanted.

  “We need to get out of here.” Pete slammed the passenger-side door and rounded the Jeep. Sliding behind the wheel, he started the engine and made a U-turn heading back to Refuge Bay.

  “I saw a turnoff about a quarter of a mile down the road.” He hoped his voice belied the growing concern that rumbled through his gut.

  A deserted road at this time of night. Did the headlights belong to the guy in the pickup?

  Better not to take any chances, especially when it came to Meredith.

  Pete needed to find a place to hole up where she would feel safe. Maybe then he could convince her to come with him to Atlanta. As far as he knew, nothing tied her to Refuge Bay except an abandoned bungalow and a part-time job at a quilt shop.

  Eve could offer her a new life, security, even love.

  If only Meredith would be more forthcoming about the man who’d run her off the road.

  Meredith tried to focus on everything that had happened, but she couldn’t get past the gut-wrenching dread that settled over her. The thug had come after her once again and tried to do her harm.

  This time, too close for comfort.

  All she wanted was peace and quiet and a chance to catch her breath.

  She glanced at Pete. His hands clenched the steering wheel, and his eyes flicked back and forth from the road ahead to the reflection of the approaching vehicle in the rearview mirror.

  Meredith looked over her shoulder. The headlights continued to draw closer, but with Pete at the wheel, she felt more secure.

  His attentiveness to her needs and his concern for her child eased some of the questions she’d had about him earlier.

  Pete seemed like a genuinely compassionate guy. Decisive. Strong-willed, but in a good way. With a take-charge attitude that she liked. As if he could handle any problem.

  Something she hadn’t felt with her husband.

  Ben had been her saving grace after she’d run away from her adoptive father. Compared to the life she’d been living, being with Ben seemed like paradise. Free of the oppression and abuse, she’d been renewed with hope that her life would continue to improve.

  But seven months ago, Ben had made a foolish mistake that changed everything. Shortly thereafter, he’d been murdered, and she’d been on the run.

  At the next intersection, Pete turned inland. A row of cottages edged the road. The last house sat dark, a FOR SALE sign in the front yard.

  He pulled onto a gravel drive that led to the backyard, where he cut the lights, turned off the engine and lowered the window.

  The sound of a car engine, gaining speed along the main road, filtered in with the night air. Wheels screeched, signaling that the car had taken the curve at an accelerated rate, followed by another gear shift and more acceleration until the sound faded into the distance.

  Only then did Pete let out the breath he’d evidently been holding and turn to face her.

  Cool air swept past him, carrying the faint scent of his aftershave. “Whoever it was stayed on the main road headed south. Might be a good reason to drive north. We can pick up I-95 in about ten miles and get something to eat, fill the car up with gas, maybe later get a couple of rooms in a motel to hole up in for the night. Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

  “That sounds fine.”

  Pete turned the key in the ignition and retraced their route. When they passed her car, still angled into the ditch, he said, “You’ll have to call a repair shop in the morning.”

  She sighed. “I should have thought of that earlier. My neighbor in Refuge Bay moonlights out of his garage as a mechanic. He might be working tonight.”

  Pulling her cell from her pocket, she tapped in the digits and waited until the call went to voice mail. “Larry, it’s Meredith. My car ran off the road.” She gave the location. “I’m okay, but I need a tow. If you’ve got room, park it in your garage. I don’t want the police asking questions.”

  “Everyone in your neighborhood against the cops?” Pete asked once she disconnected.

  “Just Larry. I’ll try him again in the morning.”

  She settled back in the seat. “Thanks for helping me.”

  “Happy to be of service, ma’am.”

  She couldn’t resist the urge to smile. “So we get to I-95 and then find food?”

  “I’ll bet you skipped dinner.”

  And lunch, she failed to add, pulling the water bottle to her lips again. “If it were just me, I’d pass. But I need to think of the baby.”

  His eyes settled ever so briefly on her protruding abdomen. “When are you due?”

  “In eight weeks.”

  His eyes widened ever so slightly. “That soon, huh? You got it all worked out? The doctor, hospital, that sort of thing?”

  She shook her head. “I travel light. In fact, I don’t have baby clothes or diapers or a car seat to take the baby home from the hospital.” She laughed ruefully. “At this point, I don’t even have a car.”

  “You’ve still got time,” he said, seemingly with conviction, which she appreciated. But they both knew he was just trying to reassure her.

  Babies were needy creatures. Clothing, diapers, car seats. A stable home life. None of which she could offer her child.

  Eight weeks. Saying it out loud made the time loom even closer.

  And what about Pete? Would he be long gone by then? Or helping some other woman who needed a knight in shining armor?

  Meredith couldn’t rely on him. She’d handled situations in the past on her own. She would handle them in the future as well.

  Besides, she’d asked God to help her.

  She rubbed her hand over her belly. Hopefully, He wouldn’t let her down.

  SIX

  They picked up I-95 exactly where Pete had said and headed north for twenty miles before he felt a bit more confident that they could let down their guard.

  Meredith said little, but every time he glanced her way, a feeling welled up within him. A mix of protectiveness and need that filled his heart with an overwhelming desire to safeguard the innocence he saw in her eyes and knew she carried in her womb.

  In the distance, an all-night roadside café sat on the top of a knoll next to a gas station where he could fill up. He pulled into a parking spot at the side of the restaurant and held the door for Meredith as they entered the outer alcove and stepped toward the dining area.

  “Be with you in a minute, folks,” the waitress behind the counter said in greeting.

  They passed up the window seats and headed for a booth in the rear. Meredith sank into the bench seat, weariness evident in her eyes when she looked at Pete from across the table.

  “Breakfast sound okay?” he asked.

  “Hot tea and toast will be fine.”r />
  Pete ordered a three-egg omelet, hash browns, biscuits and gravy and a slice of Virginia ham.

  He nodded toward Meredith. “Bring the lady a bowl of fresh fruit, orange juice, scrambled eggs and biscuits and ham.”

  His lips eased into a smile when the waitress left. “You need something substantial. Doctor’s orders.”

  “Doctor?” The corner of her mouth twitched. “I thought you worked in a lab?”

  He winked. “Even lab techs know the importance of good prenatal nutrition.”

  She didn’t argue and ate ravenously once the food was served.

  “I’ll pull the car up to the gas pump,” Pete said after he downed his third cup of coffee. “Finish up, and we’ll meet outside.”

  “Sure you want to leave me alone?” she said, a hint of a tease in her voice. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll run away?”

  He was glad to see the spark of levity, a good sign, and he played along. “I trust you, okay? Besides, you can call me on my cell if you run into a problem. You know my number.”

  She stabbed another bite of ham and shoved it into her mouth. Then she flashed a see-I’m-doing-what-you-said smile that had him chuckling as he paid the bill and drove to the gas pumps.

  After he filled the tank up, his BlackBerry rang.

  Not a voice mail, but a photo. Pete punched the prompts and the picture downloaded across his screen.

  He laughed. Meredith must like to play games.

  She’d taken a photo of her empty plate.

  Still chuckling under his breath, he checked the oil and washed the windows, taking his time.

  Evidently, Meredith was doing the same.

  Perhaps she was walking around a bit to get her circulation going. Not a bad idea at seven months.

  Pete paid the attendant and eyed the restaurant. A pickup sat out front. The same make and model as the truck that had run her off the road.

  His mind told him not to be concerned, but his heart didn’t get the message.

  Suppose something had happened? Her pregnancy, possible VHL, add adrenal tumors and a close brush with death to the list.

  His muscles tensed.

  Pete ran toward the restaurant, pulled open the door and stepped inside, his eyes darting back and forth. Where was she?