Mountain Midwife

by Cassie Miles

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll distract them.”

  Going up against men with superior firepower wasn’t as dumb as it sounded. Cole had the advantage of higher ground. If he waited until they got close, he might be able to take out one of them before the other responded.

  “There’s something you haven’t considered,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Snow.”

  While they’d been climbing, the full force of the impending blizzard had gathered. The storm had taken on a fierce intensity.

  She grabbed his arm and tugged. “They won’t be able to see us in the blizzard. The wind will cover our tracks.”

  Great. He wouldn’t die in a hail of bullets. He’d freeze to death in a blizzard.

  “Come on,” she urged. “I need you. Goldie needs you.”

  He shouldered the pack again. Going downhill should have been easier, but his knees jolted with every step. At the foot of the slope, they approached an open area where the true velocity of the storm was apparent. The snow fell in sheets. His visibility was cut to only a few yards, but he figured they could cover more distance if they went straight ahead instead of weaving through the trees.

  When he stepped into the open, he sank up to his knees. His jeans were wet. His fingers and toes were numb.

  “Stay close to the trees,” Rachel said. “It’s not as deep.”

  At the edge of the forest, the snow was over his ankles. He trudged through it, making a path for her to follow. One minute turned into ten. Ten into twenty. Inside his boots, his feet felt like frozen blocks of ice. The snow stung his cheeks. So cold, so damned cold. If he was this miserable what was happening to Goldie? Fear for the motherless newborn kept him moving forward. He had to protect this child, had to find shelter.

  But he’d lost all sense of direction in the snow. As far as he could tell, they might be heading back toward the house.

  Trying to get his bearings, he looked over his shoulder. He doubted that the bad guys were still in pursuit. Any sane person would have turned back by now.

  As Rachel had predicted, the snows were already drifting, neatly erasing their tracks.

  He couldn’t tell how far they’d gone. It felt like miles, endless miles. Needing a break, he stepped back into the shelter of the forest. His chest ached with the effort of breathing. His eyes were stinging. He squeezed his eyelids shut and opened them again. Squinting, he looked through the trees and saw a solid shape. A cabin. He blinked, hoping that his brain wasn’t playing tricks on him. “Rachel, do you see it?”

  “A cabin.” Her voice trembled on the edge of a sob.

  “Thank God, it’s a cabin.”

  He helped her up the small embankment, and they approached the rear of the cabin. No lights shone from inside.

  The front door was sheltered by a small porch. Cole hammered against the green painted door with his frozen fist. No answer. Nobody home.

  He tried the door handle and found it locked. He was carrying lock picks, but it was too cold to try a delicate manipulation of lock tumblers. He stepped back, prepared to use his body as a battering ram.

  “Wait,” Rachel said. “Run your hand over the top sill. They might have left a key.”

  “We need to get inside.” He was too damned cold and tired to perform a subtle search. “Why the hell would anybody bother to lock up and then leave a key?”

  “This isn’t the city,” she said. “Some of these little cabins are weekend getaways with different families coming and going. Give it a try.”

  He peeled off his glove. His fingers were wet and stiff, but he didn’t see the whitened skin indicating the first stage of frostbite. When he felt along the ledge above the door, he touched a key. It seemed that their luck had turned.

  Shivering, he fitted the key into the lock and pushed open the door. He and Rachel tumbled inside. When he shut the door against the elements, an ominous silence wrapped around them.

  RACHEL DISCARDED HER GLOVES and hit the light switch beside the door. The glow from an overhead light fixture spilled down upon them. They had electricity. So far, so good.

  She unzipped her parka, glad that when she left the house this morning—an eternity ago—she’d been smart enough to dress for subzero weather. This jacket might have saved her life…and Goldie’s as well. She looked down at the tiny bundle she carried in the sling against her chest. The baby’s eyes were closed. She wasn’t moving. Please, God, let her be all right.

  Cole hovered beside her, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

  Rachel slipped out of her jacket. Carefully, she braced the baby in her arms and adjusted the sling. Please, God.

  Goldie’s eyes popped open and she let out a wail.

  Rachel had never heard a more beautiful sound. “She’s okay. Yes, you are, Goldie. You’re all right.”

  Looking up, she saw a similar relief in Cole’s ruddy face. He’d torn off his cap and his hair stood up in spikes. His lips were chapped and swollen. Moisture dripped from his leather jacket. In spite of his obvious discomfort, he smiled.

  Grateful tears rose behind her eyelids, but she couldn’t let herself fall apart. “Are we safe?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “Tell me what Goldie needs.”

  The interior of the cabin was one big, open room with a couple of sofas and chairs at one end and a large wooden table at the other. The kitchen area formed an L shape. A closed door against the back wall probably led into the bedroom. The most important feature, in her mind, was the freestanding propane gas fireplace. “See if you can get that heater going.”

  She held Goldie against her shoulder, patting her back and soothing her cries. The poor little thing had to be starving. There was powdered formula in the backpack of supplies, but they needed water.

  In the kitchen, Rachel turned the faucet in the sink and was rewarded with a steady flow. This simple, little cabin—probably a weekend getaway—had been well-prepared for winter. No doubt the owners had left the electricity on because the water pipes were wrapped in heat tape. The stove was electric.

  Cole joined her. “The fireplace is on. What’s next?”

  He looked like hell. Hiking through the blizzard had been more difficult for him than for her. Not only did he go first, but his jacket and boots also weren’t anywhere near as well-insulated as hers. She wanted to tell him to get out of his wet clothes, warm up and take care of himself, but she didn’t want to insult his masculine pride by suggesting he wasn’t in as good a shape as she was.

  “Help me get stuff out of the backpack.”

  Near the cheery blaze in the propane fireplace, they dug through the baby supplies and put together a nest of blankets for Goldie. When Rachel laid the baby down on the blankets, her cries faded. Goldie wriggled as her diaper was changed.

  Cole frowned. “Is she supposed to look like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like a plucked chicken. I thought babies were supposed to have chubby arms and legs.”

  “Don’t listen to him.” Rachel stroked Goldie’s fine, dark hair. “You’re gorgeous.”

  “Yeah, people always say that. But not all babies are beautiful.”

  “This is a golden child.” She zipped Goldie into a yellow micro-fleece sleep sack. “She’s beautiful, strong and brave—not even a day old and she’s already escaped a gang of thugs and made it through a blizzard.”

  The baby’s chin tilted, and she seemed to be looking directly at Cole with her lips pursed.

  He laughed. “She’s a tough little monkey.”

  “Newborns are surprisingly resilient.” She held Goldie against her breast and stood. “I’m going to the kitchen to prepare the formula. Maybe you want to get out of those wet clothes.”

  “What about you?”

  Her jeans were wet and cold against her legs, and her feet were cold in spite of her lined, waterproof boots. “I’d love to take off my boots.”

  “Sit,” he ord
ered.

  Still holding the baby, she sank onto a rocking chair. The heat from the fireplace was making a difference in the room temperature. She couldn’t allow herself to get too comfortable or she’d surely fall asleep. This had been the longest day of her life; she’d attended at two birthings, been kidnapped and escaped through a blizzard.

  Cole knelt before her and unfastened the laces on her boots. He eased the boot off her right foot, cradled her heel in his hand and massaged through her wool sock. His touch felt so good that she groaned with pleasure.

  “Your feet are almost dry,” Cole said. “Where do I get boots like this?”

  “Any outdoor clothing and equipment store.” Anyone who lived in the mountains knew how to shop for snow gear. “You’re not from around here.”

  “L.A.,” he said.

  This was the first bit of personal information he’d volunteered. She’d entrusted this man with her life even though she knew next to nothing about him. “What’s your last name?”

  “McClure.” He pulled off the other boot. “And I’m not who you think I am.”

  Chapter Five

  Rachel gazed down at the top of Cole’s head as he removed her other boot. Much of his behavior didn’t fit with what she expected from an armed robber. He was too smart to be a thug but dumb enough to get involved with killers. Who is he? In the back of her mind, she’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Literally, this was the moment.

  He’d said that he wasn’t who she thought he was. What did that mean? Did he have super powers? Was he actually a millionaire? She refused to be seduced by excuses or explanations. Rachel knew his type. He was a tough guy—dangerous, strong and silent…and sexy.

  “You know what, Cole? I don’t want to hear your life story.”

  He sat back on his heels. “Trust me. You want to know.”

  “Trust you?” Not wanting to upset Goldie, she kept her voice level. Inside, she was far from calm. “You don’t deserve my trust.”

  “That’s not what you said when I was saving your butt.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help.”

  “Come on, Rachel. I could have left you in the middle of a shoot-out. I’m not a bad guy.”

  “If you hadn’t hidden in the back of my van and kidnapped me—” she paused for emphasis “—kidnapped me at gunpoint, I wouldn’t have been in a shoot-out.”

  “There were circumstances.”

  “Don’t care.” Right now, she was supposed to be on vacation, relaxing in her cozy condo with a fragrant cup of chamomile tea and a good book. “I want this nightmare to be over. And when it is, I never want to see you again.”

  “Fair enough.” He stood and stretched. “Take care of Goldie. I’m going to make sure we’re secure.”

  “Go right ahead.”

  COLE OPENED THE CABIN DOOR and stepped onto the porch. The brief moment of warmth when he’d been inside the cabin made the cold feel even worse than before. The blizzard still raged, throwing handfuls of snow into his face. The icy temperatures instantly froze his bare hands. In his left, he held his gun. In his right, the cell phone. His intention was to call for help. Shivering, he turned on the phone. His power was almost gone. He had no signal at this remote cabin. Holding the phone like a beacon, he turned in every direction, trying to make a connection. Nada. Damn it. He hoped the GPS signal was still transmitting his location to his FBI handlers.

  The wind-blown snow had already begun to erase their tracks. Drifts piled up, nearly two feet deep on one side of the log cabin walls. In this storm, visual surveillance was nearly impossible. He couldn’t see past the trees into the forest. All he could do was try to get his bearings.

  In front of the house was a turn-around driveway. Less than thirty feet away, he saw the blocky shape of a small outbuilding. A garage? There might be something in there that would aid in their escape.

  The wide front door of the garage was blocked by the drifting snow, but there was a side entrance. He shoved it open and entered. The interior was unlit, but there was some illumination from a window at the rear. The open space in the middle seemed to indicate that this building was used as a garage when the people who owned the cabin were here. Under the window, he found a workbench with tools for home repair. Stacked along the walls was a variety of sporting equipment: cross-country skis, poles and snowshoes.

  He’d never tried cross-country skiing before, but Rachel probably knew how to use this stuff. She was a hardy mountain woman. Prepared for the snow. Intrepid. What was her problem, anyway?

  He’d been about to tell her that he was a fed and she had no more reason to fear, but she’d shut him down. Her big, beautiful blue eyes glared at him with unmistakable anger. She’d said that she didn’t give a damn about him.

  He didn’t believe her. Though she had every reason to be ticked off, she didn’t hate him. There was something growing between them. A spark. He saw it in her body language, heard it in her voice, felt it in a dim flicker inside his frozen body. Maybe after they were safe and she knew he was a good guy, he’d pursue that attraction. Or maybe not. He had a hard time imagining Rachel in sunny California, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to move to these frigid, airless mountains.

  Leaving the garage, he tromped along the driveway to a narrow road that hadn’t been cleared of snow. No tire tracks. Nothing had been on this road since the beginning of the storm.

  He looked back toward the house. Though the curtains were drawn, he could still see the light from inside. If anyone came looking for them, they wouldn’t be hard to find.

  CRADLING THE BABY on her shoulder, Rachel padded around in the kitchen in her wool socks. She heard the front door open and saw Cole stumble inside. He locked the door and placed his gun on the coffee table. And his cell phone.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had a phone?” she asked.

  “It’s almost dead. And I can’t get a signal.”

  Warily, she approached the table. “Who were you trying to call?”

  “Somebody to get us the hell out of here.”

  “Like who?” She wasn’t sure that she wanted to be rescued by any of his friends. Out of the frying pan into the fire.

  “I’m not trying to trick you.” He tossed the phone to her.

  “Go ahead. See if you can get the damn thing to work.”

  She juggled the phone and waved it all around while he went through the door to the bedroom. He hadn’t been lying about the lack of signal, but that didn’t set her mind at ease.

  Returning to the kitchen, she focused on preparing the formula—a task she’d performed hundreds of times before. Not only was she the third oldest of eight children, but her responsibilities at the clinic also included more than assisting at births. She also made regular visits to new moms, helping them with baby care, feeding and providing necessary immunizations.

  The water she’d put into a saucepan on the stove was just beginning to boil. Since she had no idea about the source of this liquid, she wanted to make sure germs and bacteria had been killed. Ten minutes of boiling should be enough. A cloud of steam swirled around her. From the other room, she heard doors opening and closing. She hoped Cole was changing out of his wet clothes. He looked half-frozen.

  His well-being shouldn’t matter to her, but she’d be lying if she told herself she wasn’t attracted to him. All her life, she’d been drawn to outsiders and renegades. There was something about bad boys that always sucked her in.

  Her first serious boyfriend had owned a motorcycle shop and had tattoos up and down both arms. He definitely hadn’t been the kind of guy she could bring home to meet her stable, responsible, churchgoing parents, which might have been part of her fascination with him. She’d loved riding on the back of his Harley, loved the way he’d grab her and kiss her in front of his biker friends. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. He’d called her “baby doll” and given her a black leather jacket with a skull and a heart on the back.

  On the very day she’d in
tended to move in with him, she’d discovered him in bed with another woman, and she’d heard him tell this leggy blond stranger that she—the blond bimbo—was his baby doll.

  Even now, ten years later, that memory set Rachel’s blood boiling. Before she’d departed from motorcycle man’s house, she’d gone into his garage, dumped gasoline on her leather jacket and set it on fire.

  After that ride on the wild side, she should have learned. Instead, she’d gone through a series of edgy boyfriends—daredevils, rock musicians, soldiers of fortune. Like an addict, she was drawn to their intensity.

  Cole was one of those guys.

  True, he had risked his life to rescue her and Goldie. He wasn’t evil. But he wasn’t somebody she wanted to know better.

  Using a dish towel, she wiped around the lid of the container before she opened the powdered formula. There was food for Goldie, but what about them? Searching the kitchen, she found a supply of canned food and an opened box of crackers. There was also flour and sugar and olive oil. If they got snowed in for a day or two, they wouldn’t starve to death. A day or two? The idea of being trapped with Cole both worried and excited her.

  One-handed and still holding the fidgeting baby, she measured and mixed the formula. “Almost done,” she murmured to Goldie. “You’ll feel better after you eat.”

  One of the reasons Rachel had moved to the mountains was to get away from sexy bad boys who would ultimately hurt her. As a midwife, she didn’t come into contact with many single men and hadn’t had a date in months. Fine with me! She preferred the calm warmth of celibacy to a fiery affair that would leave her with nothing but a handful of ashes.

  Bottle in hand, she returned to the living room just as Cole stepped out of the bathroom, drying his dark blond hair with a towel. He’d changed into a sweatshirt and gray sweatpants that were too short, leaving his ankles exposed. On his feet, he wore wool socks.

  “Did you take a shower?” she asked.

  “A hot shower. They have one of those wall-hanging propane water heaters.”