Protecting Her Child

by Debby Giusti

  Run! She stepped over his sprawled body. The harsh glare of the overhead light blinded her. Hesitating for an instant, she gathered courage to climb the stairs and face Hank, who still barred her escape.

  Behind her Javier moaned.

  No time to delay.

  Meredith raced to the stairs.

  Something touched her shoulder.

  She turned, hands fisted, ready to strike.

  “Pete?”

  THIRTEEN

  Black hair tumbling around her shoulders, Meredith let out a yelp of surprise. The shock Pete initially saw on her face was replaced with relief as she stepped toward him.

  He pulled her into his arms. His heart crashed against his chest with joy as he felt the softness of her skin and inhaled her womanly scent. He pulled her even closer, his lips caressing her hair.

  “Oh, Pete,” she moaned.

  “It’s okay, honey. I’ll get you out of here.”

  She dropped her head onto his shoulder.

  He wanted to hold her forever. Gratitude filled him.

  Thank God he’d found her.

  But she was still in danger. They needed to get to the Jeep and head for safety.

  Pulling her back, Pete stared into her eyes. “We’ve got to hurry.”

  She nodded and slipped her hand into his.

  Fingers entwined, he was stirred by the sense of completeness he felt whenever they were together. Connected at last, he guided her behind the stairwell and tapped the palm of his free hand along the wall until a section pushed open, exposing the narrow tunnel cut into earth.

  “I’ll lead and you follow,” he said.

  Meredith pulled her hand back. “I…I can’t.”

  He drew the Maglite from his pocket and played it over the walls. “It’s safe. There’s a little moisture from the rain, but the walls seem stable. We don’t have far to go. The tunnel leads out back.”

  She shook her head, her eyes wide. “Don’t ask me to go in there.” She pointed to the second floor. “Hank’s the only guy upstairs. He’s Javier’s partner. You can take him.”

  “He may have a gun, Meredith.” With the rickety basement steps and Meredith’s unbalanced gait, a surprise attack would be unlikely.

  “I’ll go first.” Pete stepped toward the opening.

  Something rustled behind them. They glanced in the direction of the sound.

  Rubbing his head, the Latino stumbled from the darkness. He stopped abruptly.

  Pete grabbed Meredith’s arm.

  She struggled to break free. “You don’t understand. My adoptive father—”

  Pete remembered the closet and pantry.

  “He locked you up, didn’t he?” If Pete ever came face-to-face with Collins, he’d smash him to a pulp. “Don’t let him win, Meredith.”

  “I…I can’t.” She shook her head, refusing to budge.

  “Hank,” Javier yelled. “We got trouble.”

  Pulling his .45 from his waistband, he fired, hitting the wall next to Pete.

  The overhead door opened, and footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  “Come on, honey.”

  Meredith’s eyes were wide with fear, but she didn’t move. Pete lifted her into his arms.

  Hank fired from the stairwell.

  Holding Meredith close to his heart, Pete raced into the tunnel.

  “No!” she screamed, hiding her face in the small of his neck.

  A third shot exploded into the beam that shored up the earthen walls. The sound reverberated through the passageway.

  Meredith whimpered.

  “We’re almost there,” Pete mumbled. Shining the light ahead, he knew the men were right behind them. Even if they made it to the end of the tunnel, the two goons would overtake them outside.

  A rumble sounded, then picked up momentum.

  Dust billowed around them.

  The roar grew louder.

  Pete glanced over his shoulder. His heart crashed against his chest.

  The earthen walls were imploding, like a chain reaction of falling dominoes.

  He pushed on, seeing the opening dead ahead. He had to save Meredith.

  Ten feet, eight…

  Fissures on the sides of the tunnel grew wider, whole sections caving in.

  Four feet to freedom. The air too thick to breathe.

  Holding Meredith with one arm, Pete reached out with the other to where he’d seen the ladder only seconds ago. Now he could see nothing.

  His fingers wrapped around the wooden rungs. He started to climb.

  The earth groaned and, in one last shudder, crashed down around them.

  His muscles strained, his lungs cried for air. He summoned every bit of strength to move forward and upward.

  The top half of his body broke through the trapdoor. He hoisted Meredith onto the floor of the tiny shelter.

  The earth caught his feet and sucked him down like quicksand. With one final surge, he pulled free and crawled onto the floor next to Meredith.

  Gasping, he inhaled the sweet night air.

  Pete touched her arm, feeling something warm and sticky.

  He aimed the light.

  Blood.

  Darkness surrounded her. Meredith gasped for air, then coughed repeatedly to clear the dirt she’d inhaled in the tunnel.

  “Are you okay?”

  Pete’s voice. She blinked her eyes open and saw his face close to hers.

  “I didn’t think I’d see those eyes again,” he said.

  “I’m…okay.” She rolled onto her side and tried to rise, then moaned and fell back to the floor.

  “Easy does it. A bullet grazed your arm.”

  Pete put his hand under her shoulders and helped her sit up.

  “My Jeep’s stashed in the woods. We need to get out of here.”

  With Pete’s help, she managed to stand.

  The world shifted. She collapsed against him, feeling his strength as he held her close.

  “I’ll carry you.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Give me a second. I can walk.”

  “We don’t have time.” Once again, he lifted her into his arms, careful not to jostle her injured arm.

  Stepping through the doorway, he glanced back at the farmhouse.

  She followed his gaze. “Where are Javier and Hank?”

  The sound of an engine revved into life.

  Headlights illuminated the clearing behind the house.

  “In the truck headed this way,” he said.

  Her heart raced. Fear swept through her.

  Pete carried her along the back edge of the clearing. For an instant, the headlights caught them in their glare. He turned onto a narrow path that wound through the undergrowth.

  “They must have seen us,” she said, hearing the quiver in her own voice.

  Head against his chest, Meredith felt Pete’s pounding heart. She clutched his shoulder, grateful for this caring man who put her needs before his own. If only she weren’t such a burden.

  With every step he took, pain seared her arm.

  Her baby? Oh, dear Lord, protect this child.

  Pete pushed on, his breathing labored. Branches scraped against them. He angled his body, protecting her from the dense underbrush that pulled at his clothes and slapped against his arms.

  A thorny limb sliced across her leg. She held back a moan. Pete was doing so much to save her.

  Meredith glanced over his shoulder.

  Hank and Javier followed close behind them in the pickup. Their headlights flickered through the brush.

  A shot sounded.

  Pete stopped short. She turned and saw the Jeep.

  In one swift movement, he threw open the door and laid her in the front seat. “Get down,” he warned.

  Slamming the door, he raced to the driver’s side and slipped behind the wheel, key in hand.

  Please, God, she prayed again.

  A bullet pinged off the front bumper.

  Pete turned the key and stepped on the gas.
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  The groan of an engine sounded behind them.

  Meredith raised her head and glanced out the window. The pickup had caught in the clutches of a fallen tree.

  The doors swung open. Javier and Hank jumped to the ground, guns in hand.

  The wheels of the Jeep spun in the soft, wet earth. Pete eased up on the accelerator. The tires grabbed and pulled free.

  They moved forward, out of the glare of the pickup’s headlights.

  Meredith wrapped her good arm around her belly, feeling every bump in the path.

  The road dipped. Her stomach roiled. “Oh,” she cried, unable to help herself.

  With a jolt, the Jeep climbed onto the pavement.

  “We’re clear,” Pete said. He increased their speed, the road under them smooth.

  Meredith let out a sign.

  An intersection loomed ahead.

  Sirens sounded in the distance.

  Police!

  She grabbed his arm. “Don’t let them find me.”

  “Meredith, you need help.”

  “Not the police.” They hadn’t believed her when she was a child, when she had reported her adoptive father’s abuse of her mother. They wouldn’t believe her now.

  The sirens neared, heading straight toward them.

  “Please,” she begged.

  Pete hung a sharp left. The tires screamed in protest.

  He hit the gas. Rubber burned as the Jeep lurched forward, putting distance between them and the squad car.

  “We need to talk,” was all he said. His hands gripped the wheel, eyes trained on the road.

  She’d have to tell him.

  But not now.

  Her wounded arm lay on her lap, the coppery smell of blood reaching her nose.

  A dark spot soaked her shirt.

  Raising her good arm, she rubbed her fingers over her stomach.

  How long had it been since she’d felt movement?

  Everything she cared about had been taken from her.

  Not my baby.

  Oh, dear God, not my baby, too!

  FOURTEEN

  Pete drove west, staying on the deserted roads and isolated stretches where few other cars traveled.

  At least the night had cleared. He could see the North Star and the Big Dipper and knew they were headed away from the farmhouse and the maniacs who had captured Meredith. And away from the police she feared.

  He glanced at her. He’d been so focused on the immediate danger that he hadn’t noticed the tears that glistened on her cheeks.

  The sense of relief he had felt shattered. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her close. But they had to keep moving.

  He rubbed his hand across her arm.

  She cringed at his touch. He raised his fingers into the light from the dash.

  Blood.

  His gut tightened.

  Getting away from the police had been his primary concern. He hadn’t realized the severity of her injury.

  “How much blood have you lost?

  “It’s just a flesh wound,” she mumbled.

  Why did she always try to be so strong?

  “Did you ever consider telling me the truth? You can trust me.”

  “I’m okay, really.”

  But he knew she wasn’t. Glancing down at her lap, he saw the wet mark that darkened her blouse.

  Anger welled up within him. At the men who had done this to her. But even more at himself for ignoring her need for first aid.

  Above all else, he had wanted to protect her from the men in the farmhouse, and he had succeeded. Now another danger threatened her.

  Where could he pull off the road to tend to her wound?

  Pete turned onto an unpaved path and stopped behind a dilapidated, abandoned cabin that would shield them from anyone driving along the main road.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, rising in the seat. A moan escaped her lips, and she fell back against the headrest.

  Oh, yeah, she was in a lot of pain. Not that she’d readily share that information with him. She didn’t share much of anything…not the reason her husband had been killed or what had happened in her past that caused her to be so fearful of the police.

  “We’re stopping so I can check your wound. I’ll get the first aid kit in the back. Stay put.”

  He climbed out, unlatched the back door and grabbed the kit. The basic supplies would provide immediate triage for her wound.

  Rounding to her side of the Jeep, he opened the passenger-side door. The overhead light snapped on.

  Pete sucked air through his teeth.

  Nothing superficial about this wound.

  The bullet had cut a hole deep into her flesh.

  He clamped down on his jaw. After he got Meredith to safety, he’d track down the thugs who had done this to her, wherever they tried to hide. If it were the last thing he did, he’d make sure they paid for hurting Meredith.

  Those men needed to be knocked against a brick wall and pummeled until they couldn’t walk.

  Not that Pete believed in violence. But logical consequences were another thing entirely.

  Pulling the Maglite from his pocket, Pete loosened the barrel until the powerful beam played over her wound.

  Meredith glanced down and gasped.

  “It’s okay, honey,” he assured her.

  But it wasn’t okay. Loss of blood and infection were the two biggest worries.

  He grabbed a vial of Betadine to clean the wound. “This might hurt.”

  He poured the antiseptic solution over the wound. Her good hand clutched the armrest, but she didn’t make a sound.

  His heart went out to her. She was one strong woman.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Ripping open a sterile gauze packet, he dabbed the four-by-four square against the wound, cleaning out the dirt and debris that clung to the raw flesh.

  She turned her head away, clutching the armrest even tighter.

  “Almost done.”

  His probes opened the wound more, and a new flow of bright red blood poured forth.

  Not what she needed or he wanted.

  Pete passed over the latex tourniquet used for drawing blood and pulled an ACE bandage from the kit instead. Ripping open the plastic covering, he wrapped the stretchy gauze around her upper arm and pulled it tight.

  She moaned. The sound cut right through him.

  He hated causing her more pain, but the flow of blood had to be stopped.

  At least the gauze would be more comfortable long-term than the narrow strip of latex.

  Grabbing more four-by-fours, he squirted a gob of antibiotic ointment over the squares, then positioned them on the wound and taped the gauze in place.

  If only the ointment was strong enough to retard the growth of bacteria. She didn’t need an infection on top of everything else.

  What she needed was medical care. Although the police would have to be notified. Not what Meredith wanted.

  “I’ll find the nearest hospital,” he said when he slipped behind the wheel again and picked up his BlackBerry to do a map search, relieved to see the cell power up.

  Surely even in this forsaken part of Georgia there had to be a medical facility.

  If only he could get her there in time.

  Meredith was worried, not so much about the wound but about the baby.

  Pete was right. She needed to get to a hospital where a doctor could examine her.

  When was the last time she’d felt the baby move?

  At least Pete had rescued her from the farmhouse basement. Gratitude swelled within her, along with a growing awareness of his goodness and her own desire to stay with him. She glanced his way.

  Focused on the road, his brow was drawn tight. His eyes searched the night, as if willing a hospital to materialize in the darkness.

  “Any idea where we are?” she asked.

  He glanced her way. “South of Augusta and east of Atlanta.”

  Having grown up in Augusta, Meredith said
, “The Medical College of Georgia and its affiliated hospital are in Augusta.”

  “I’m hoping we can find something closer. The map search listed a community hospital not far from here.”

  She looked down at her arm. “The bleeding stopped.”

  “Good. What about the baby?”

  “No movement.”

  “A change of position might help,” he suggested.

  “Whenever I sew, I bend over the fabric and usually get a solid kick in the side.”

  Pete tilted his head. “Want to give it a try?”

  He helped her slide forward in the seat. The movement sent pain screaming down her arm.

  She held her breath until the pain eased.

  “You okay?” His eyes flicked back and forth from the road to her.

  “Yeah. Just a reminder that I’ve got a hole in my arm.”

  “Check the blood flow.” He turned on the interior light for a moment.

  She examined the bandage. “It’s okay.”

  The headlights cut through the night as they continued to drive along the back roads.

  Meredith placed her good elbow on her knee and rested her head on her hand, putting pressure on her stomach. Hopefully, it wouldn’t further distress the tiny life growing within her.

  Right now, she needed some sign that the baby was all right.

  “Mind if I sing?”

  Pete looked at her, brow raised.

  “I make up lullabies while I work. They seem to soothe the little one.”

  He had to smile. “You want the baby to move, Meredith. Not sleep.”

  “Yes, but usually I get an initial kick, as if she—or he—likes my singing.”

  “It’s worth a try.”

  She sang about a mother’s love and how she’d never let anything happen to her baby.

  Tonight, the words caught in her throat. Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked to clear them, then swiped her hand over her face as they broke free and rolled down her cheeks.

  Hopefully, Pete wouldn’t see her show of emotion. He’d done so much for her, and she could feel the concern in his gaze.

  “I’m not sure this will work,” she finally said with a sniff.

  “The song was nice. Kind of got to me, if you know what I mean.”

  Yeah, she did know. Neither of them had known their mothers, which was hard for a child. And while Pete’s dad hadn’t been abusive, per se, he had made Pete’s childhood less than the nurturing time it should have been.