The Cradle Mission

by Rita Herron

  The scents of salt water and fish assaulted her as they drove out of the downtown area along the coast, then crossed the bridge to Catcall Island, the first of the islands in the Coastal Island Research Park. A sliver of a moon flitted off darkened sandy beaches, only an occasional jogger braving the earnest wind rolling off the ocean. The screech of the wind outside reminded her of the legend of the island, and the reason for its name—Catcall. Locals claimed when the wind blew the tall sea oats, it sounded like the low mewling sounds of a cat calling out for help. The sound mirrored her own silent cries.

  How could she fight a conspiracy by the scientists involved in Project Simon when she didn’t know which doctors were involved and when she had no proof to back up her story? The articles in the newspaper hailing the center’s work made her look even more guilty.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Cain said.

  “I’m just worried about Simon.”

  Cain’s hand enveloped hers, stirring titillating sensations inside her as well as troublesome ones. He had stuck beside her through this entire ordeal and she had finally begun to trust him.

  But she couldn’t allow herself to give him her heart. If she found out Simon was healthy, she had to obtain a new identity and leave him behind.

  Cain cleared his throat. “Where’s Polenta’s office?”

  Alanna pointed out directions. Cain had checked over his shoulder a thousand times but hadn’t noticed anyone following them. They wound through the research park, then through the archway created by towering anoaks. Hopefully, they could sneak in and meet Paul, and she’d learn the truth about Simon’s health without anyone catching them.

  CAIN SWORE SILENTLY at the security he spotted around the research park, his instincts on alert for a setup. He’d watched for a tail the entire way to Savannah, even more so when they’d crossed onto the island, but saw nothing, which aroused his suspicions even more. Instincts warned him that someone had orchestrated this meeting to lure them back, yet he didn’t know how to circumvent the trouble; they had to know if Simon needed medical treatment. He’d considered calling for backup, but then he would have to expose Alanna. Even though he’d told Wakefield about Alanna, she had no idea Cain had taken the man into his confidence. Plus, bringing along cops would only draw more attention to them and force the issue of going public with Project Simon.

  “You need to phone Polenta.”

  Alanna nodded and punched in Paul’s number while he studied the shadows darkening the main hospital building.

  “Paul, it’s Alanna. We’re here.” She listened quietly for a moment, her hand trembling as she disconnected the line.

  “He’s going to meet us behind Building A. His office is inside. He can help us through security.”

  “How did he sound?”

  “Weak.”

  “Could you tell if he’d been drugged?”

  Alanna shrugged. “I’m not sure. He sounded…worried.”

  Pausing to cup her face in his hands, he met her gaze, interjecting as much confidence in his voice as he could. “It’s going to be all right.”

  She nodded, jutting up her chin in a show of courage that didn’t quite meet her eyes. Cain felt inside his jacket for his gun, praying he wouldn’t need it. Seconds later, he led the way, coaching Alanna to stay behind him with Simon so he could scope out the area. Wind howled from the distant marshland, the sounds of night frogs and crickets adding to the grating whine of the salty breeze.

  Weeds bent at their feet as they circled to the back of the building. Cain remained alert for night watch-men, grateful when the only visible one headed in the opposite direction, toward the tip of the island.

  “Shh, Simon, honey,” Alanna whispered over the sound of rustling leaves.

  Cain hesitated, ushering her beneath the awning of the building. The creak of a wheelchair broke into the night. Alanna clutched his arm, digging fingers into his jacket as they waited.

  “Paul?”

  He tried to hold her back, but the minute she saw the shadow of the man rolling toward her, his efforts obviously labored, his breathing ragged in the pungent air between them, she stepped from behind him.

  The man’s eyes were listless, his voice a mere croak when he finally spoke, “Simon.” Polenta tried to lift a thin-boned hand but failed.

  “Paul, you have to tell me if Simon is really sick

  “…showed me bloodwork—”

  The man never finished the sentence. Suddenly all hell broke loose. A gunshot pierced the air, two hulking security guards jumped Cain from the rear, two more grabbed Alanna. She screamed, crying out in anguish, as they tore Simon from her arms.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cain fought off the attackers and reached for his gun, but another man fired, and a bullet slammed into Cain’s chest. His body flew backward, and blood gushed from his lower shoulder. He pressed a hand to his chest, shooting off a round from his gun. But he missed the shooter when the man ducked behind the building. Alanna fought and kicked, trying to hang on to Simon, but one of the men jerked the baby from her hands, then pinned her arms behind her. A third man pushed a gun toward Polenta’s temple and wheeled him away. The man holding Simon turned to follow him, but Alanna screamed out and clawed at the man. He turned and slammed the butt of his gun against Alanna’s head and sent her flying to the ground.

  Cain struggled to get up, to save her and rescue Simon, but his head spun and he swayed. Taking quick advantage, the beefy guard slammed his fist into Cain’s injured shoulder. White-hot pain seared through Cain, and he saw stars. Another blow caught him in the gut, the next one connected with his nose. The squeal of tires on pavement punctuated the air, as if someone had just driven up and screeched to a halt.

  He threw his hand up to ward off another blow, but the attacker punched his face again. He heard the crunch of bone just before blackness engulfed him.

  ALANNA HAD NO IDEA how long she’d been unconscious, but slowly, as the dim light from an outside bulb heightened the pain behind her eyes, reality returned. The stark agony of realizing they had taken Simon knifed through her.

  Cain.

  Dear God, she tried to sit up but a wave of nausea wreaked havoc with her equilibrium, and she struggled for composure. Then she saw Cain lying in a pool of blood. So much blood, gushing from a chest wound. The dark red blood had soaked his shirt all the way to his stomach.

  Tears pooled in her eyes as she struggled to crawl to him.

  Please don’t let him be dead.

  Inch by inch she dragged her aching body across the dirt, her pulse clamoring at the sight of a pair of headlights shimmering from the parking lot. Someone was watching them, their beady eyes trained on her. Who was in the car? Someone coming back to finish the job?

  Panic seized her, but she scrambled over the rocks, the sharp points tearing at her hands, ripping the skin raw. She spit out dirt and fought a sob at the sight of more blood gushing down Cain’s chest. He was so still. So pale. Where had he been hit?

  She checked Cain’s pulse, grateful to find one, although it was weak and thready and his breathing was shallow.

  Her gaze cut across the property. Where had they taken

  She wanted to run after her baby, to search the facility until she found him and took him back in her arms.

  But she couldn’t leave Cain here to die.

  He’d been hurt trying to save her and Simon. And Eric was already dead….

  She peeled back his jacket and checked the injury. The bullet had pierced his left shoulder, slightly above his heart. She prayed it hadn’t gone into his lung. Knowing she had to stop the bleeding and get him to a hospital, she jerked off her sweater, then the T-shirt below, then firmly pressed the shirt onto his wound while she pulled the sweater back on to cover herself.

  “Cain, can you hear me?”

  Applying pressure to the bleeding, she searched the shadows for more attackers. “Cain, please wake up. We have to get out of here.”

  A low groan erupte
d from his throat, so she shook him gently again. “Please, Cain. Come on, I don’t think I can lift you by myself.” And dammit, she couldn’t call the cops.

  His eyes finally fluttered open, and seemed to focus on her face. Wind rustled the leaves around her and she spun her head around to see if someone was coming, but saw only darkness.

  “They have Simon,” she said in a strangled whisper. “But you’re bleeding pretty badly. We have to get you to a hospital.”

  He shook his head, but Alanna slid an arm beneath his good shoulder and tried to pull him up. “Come on, I’m not arguing with you. Losing your brother was bad enough. I’d never forgive myself if you died because of me, too.”

  The grunt that followed echoed with pain and stubbornness, but together they finally stood and she half dragged, half pulled him to his Jeep.

  Stumbling against the side of the car under Cain’s weight, she opened the Jeep’s door and heaved Cain inside. He fell into the passenger side with a moan and lay his head back against the seat, while she ran to the other side, jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Her own head throbbed from the blow she’d sustained, but she ignored the pain, knowing it didn’t compare to the ache in her heart from having Simon ripped from her arms.

  Cain groaned and passed out again and she hit the gas. She’d drive him to the hospital, then she’d come back for Simon.

  PHYLLIS DROVE AWAY from the research center, worry gnawing at her. She almost had everything she needed to claim Simon. She’d thought it would be easier to take him away from Alanna than the doctors at the research center. But when she’d lost track of them after the fire, she’d nearly panicked. Then she’d seen Polenta’s plea on TV and she’d known Alanna would return to CIRP. She’d driven here and waited. And waited.

  But now Alanna had lost the baby.

  Hadn’t the little fool known she was walking into a trap? She’d thought the cop would have better sense. Of course, he was probably one of those macho guys who thought he was invincible.

  Well, he hadn’t been and they’ the doctors get her son.

  What should she do now?

  She had to get that file. Prove Simon belonged to her.

  She drove to a pay phone and checked the home address for the OB-GYN who’d delivered her baby. Five minutes later, she turned onto the small Isle of Hope and wove past the different street signs until she located the sign for the doctor’s street. Three houses down, she parked along the street and strode toward Dr. Forrester’s small cottage, relieved at the sight of lights glowing inside. No doubt, he would be surprised to see her.

  Determination filling her, she knocked on the door, tapping a high heel impatiently when he didn’t immediately answer. Her agitation mounted. She pounded the wooden door, noting the fading chipped paint and weathered hardware, frowning at the fishy scent of the ocean drifting in with the late-night breeze. One hand patted the outside of her leather purse, folding over the security of her .22 resting inside.

  The door creaked open, and the elderly white-haired doctor appeared, rubbing the bridge of his nose with pinched fingers. “Yes, what…” Recognition dawned in his eyes. “Ms. French, what can I do for you?”

  “I want all the files about Simon’s birth, including his birth certificate. It’s time everyone learned that he’s my baby.”

  “But you had a miscarriage. Simon—”

  Phyllis slid the gun from her purse. “I know what you told me. I also know that you and the other doctors at the fertility clinic lied to me and that nurse you hired to take care of Simon.”

  ALANNA PACED the waiting room of Savannah Hospital’s surgical wing, her mind replaying the terrifying moments just before Cain was shot, when Simon had been taken from her. Aching and empty now, she curled her arms around her middle, grieving for the void his absence caused.

  Her only consolation was that if Simon did have special medical needs, the team of doctors responsible for Project Simon, whatever the hell project meant, would take care of him.

  But would she ever see the baby again? Would they ship him off to some remote lab and isolate him from the world? Would he ever have a normal life?

  “Miss, you’re the woman who brought that police officer in?”

  “Yes.” She glanced up at the doctor, praying he didn’t recognize her. When she’d dragged Cain in with a gunshot wound, he’d given her a suspicious look, as had a couple of the nurses, but Cain had managed to stay awake long enough to identify himself as a detective and to offer a cover for her.

  Legalities necessitated the doctor report the incident, so Cain had begged him to call his partner in Atlanta instead of the locals, and not to inform the press of his injury. The doctor had reluctantly agreed. Cain had claimed Alanna was a witness under protective custody, and that leaking the story to the press would jeopardize her life and blow a major undercover investigation. It wasn’t really a lie, but would they believe the story if someone recognized her from the photo that had been plastered all over the newHe’s out of surgery now and resting, if you’d like to see him.”

  A huge sigh of relief escaped her, which felt far more personal than she wanted to admit. “How is he?”

  “A little uncomfortable and weak from blood loss, but he’ll be fine. The bullet went into his shoulder but thankfully missed his lungs and heart. I’d say he was pretty lucky.”

  She followed the doctor into the recovery area, a small space surrounded by sterile sheets and filled with the strong scent of antiseptic and other hospital smells that had once been a part of her daily routine. Though she was a nurse and the steady beep of the IV and the other tubes and paraphernalia didn’t shock her system as it often did regular patients, her stomach rolled at the sight of Cain’s ashen face. His dark hair looked mussed and stuck to his head where he’d sweated, rough beard stubble darkened his wide jaw, and his lips looked parched and dry.

  She moved toward him slowly, knowing the doctor was watching, although she heard him slip away, obviously to offer her some privacy. For a moment she simply stared at Cain, memorizing his features, the strong set to his stubborn jaw, the slant of a nose that had been broken before and was swollen now, the sooty-black lashes that curled down on normally bronzed skin that had lost its color. He was devastatingly handsome and the strongest, most honorable man she’d ever known. He had put his own life and career in jeopardy to protect her and Simon while grief stricken over the loss of his brother.

  He did it all to find his brother’s killer, a little voice in her head whispered.

  Only she remembered the heated kiss and hunger in his eyes and wondered…

  No sense fantasizing over things that could never be. If she found Simon again, she would disappear and never see him again. She had to in order to protect him.

  “Cain? Can you hear me?” She gently lifted his limp hand in hers, smiling as his rough, callused palm enveloped hers.

  A low moan escaped him as if he was fighting to come out of the anesthesia.

  “Thank God you didn’t die.” The tears she’d been fighting rose to the surface and spilled over. His other hand found its way into her hair and he opened his eyes, the regret and sorrow so strong that it broke her heart. “I’m so sorry, Alanna.”

  Then, in spite of his injury, he pulled her down to his chest and held her while she cried.

  IGNORING THE THROBBING in his arm, Cain stroked the base of Alanna’s neck to comfort her, knowing her emotional release had been long coming. He was grateful she had held herself together long enough to get him to the emergency room. But she had lost the baby she loved and her heart was breaking.

  He couldn’t believe he had failed her and the little boy. Just like he had failed to protect Eric.

  Guilt pressed against raw emotions, fear for the baby boy he had come to care about twisting like a knife in an already sore gut. Dammit, what was he going to do now?

  He sure as hell couldn’t stay here in the hospital.“Your head?” he murmured, his throat so dry it felt like
sandpaper. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded against his chest and her soft hair tickled his chin, the sweet scent of her shampoo arousing his senses, obliterating thought of the pain in his shoulder. “We’ll find Simon,” he heard himself promise, although he had no idea how. He needed help, and a phone to call his partner and his buddy from the FBI.

  A sob escaped her, but she slowly lifted her face, her tearstained big blue eyes luminous with sorrow. “I’m sorry I got you involved in this, Cain. S-so sorry you got hurt.”

  Ah, God. He raised a shaky hand and threaded it through her hair. “Shh, I’m a cop, remember? I’ve been shot before.” He gritted his teeth, fighting the ache in his shoulder as he tried to move. “Will be again. Goes with the territory.”

  Her raised eyebrow said that it didn’t matter, because this time he’d been shot because of her.

  “I’m going to find Simon and protect him, so stop blaming yourself,” he said in a gruff voice. “Now, see if you can find my cell phone.”

  She sniffed and wiped her tears, her courage once again earning his admiration. “You can’t use it in the recovery room.”

  “Then help me get out of here.”

  “Cain—”

  He gripped her chin in his hand. “I don’t intend to lie around in this bed when we have to find Simon.”

  Her look of concern pulled at emotions deep inside him, awakening them from a long-dormant sleep. How long had it been since a woman had actually cared about him? Even his mother had put herself before her sons.

  “You forget that I’m a nurse, Cain. I can’t allow you to leave when it could be dangerous for you. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

  “I’ll do it with or without your help.”

  She sighed and pressed a hand to his cheek, the gesture so tender that again his heart tripped over in his chest. “Every second counts, Alanna. I lost Eric. I don’t want Simon to be lost, too.” He brushed a tendril of hair from her forehead. “Eric would want me to help Simon.” And you, he added silently. He probably would have fallen in love with you, too.