A Baby Between Them

by Alice Sharpe

  Even from that distance, Simon could see the skin around Ella’s lips grow white.

  “Make up your mind!” Carl yelled, clasping her even closer to his body. “Drop your gun and stand up.”

  Decision time again.

  Who was he trying to kid? Making a decision implied options, and he had none, but still, the first rule of police work was never to surrender a weapon.

  “You win, Baxter,” he shouted, bending slowly, putting the gun down carefully, sliding it into view. As he straightened up, he kept his eyes on Ella. Every bone in her face seemed to push against her ashen skin.

  “Now you’re being reasonable,” Carl said, a smug smile playing over his lips. Raising his voice, he added, “Chopper, where are you?”

  The big man who had abducted Ella from the bus depot sauntered out of the building behind Simon. The only thing more imposing than the size of Chopper was the curved cold steel knife he held in one hand.

  “Where’s the other guy?” Carl demanded.

  “I found him hiding out by the old pier,” Chopper yelled.

  “Did you get rid of him?”

  “I’m not a killer,” the big man yelled. As his knife was one millimeter from severing Simon’s future, Simon was happy to hear it.

  Then he remembered Robert Connors found stabbed to death in his car.

  “Since when?” Carl quipped as though the same thought had occurred to him.

  “That’s different and you know it. I’m not the one who set off a bomb at the depot.”

  “We all serve our own gods, Chopper. So, the bottom line is you left someone free to do what he wants.”

  Chopper pulled a roll of gray duct tape from his pocket. “No, I took care of him. He isn’t going anywhere.”

  Simon hadn’t held out a lot of hope for his Spanish-speaking friend with the light eyes, but now it looked as though there was no hope at all. He swallowed hard as Chopper grabbed him by the upper arm and marched him down the ramp. The tip of the knife blade was so close to his spine he could feel it all the way to his belly button and found himself arching his back as he walked.

  Ella’s eyes widened as she got a good look at him. “Are you all right?” she asked, her voice slurred.

  “Couldn’t be better. How about you?”

  She managed a fleeting smile.

  Carl yanked her closer again, strangling her for a second. “Chopper, check his wallet.”

  “He doesn’t have one,” Chopper grumbled after none too gently patting Simon down. The slaps jarred Simon’s mincemeat back, causing shivers to shoot through his body. He was suddenly very glad he’d decided to leave his wallet in the car.

  “So, just who in the devil are you?” Carl asked as Chopper once again loomed right behind Simon.

  “A friend.”

  “Well, friend, you just bought yourself a load of trouble. If you’d left my wife at the motel last night, we could have wired her before she met the old guy today and none of this would have been necessary.”

  “Would that be before or after she fell to her death off the bluff?” Simon asked.

  Carl shook his head. “It doesn’t matter who you are. It’s obvious you’ve turned into Eleanor’s knight in shining armor. You’re going to wish you’d kept your nose in your own business.”

  “You don’t need to hurt her,” Simon said, his fists clenched so hard his blunt nails bit into his palms. “She’s not going anywhere, you know that. Loosen your grip. She’s just as innocent—”

  A bark of laughter escaped Carl. “My wife innocent. How quaint.”

  “I can’t be your wife,” Ella said, eyes gaining a little bit of the old flash. “I wouldn’t marry someone like you.”

  “I have the papers to prove it, sweetheart.”

  “You left me on a cliff to die and now you have a gun pointed at my head. Some marriage.”

  He smiled again. Putting his lips close to Ella’s ear, he added, “You’ve already told me everything I need to know about the next contact except where the meeting is to take place. Tell me that or I shoot your new friend.”

  “You’ll kill me anyway,” Simon said, still gazing at Ella.

  Carl’s voice dipped to a smooth, intimate tone, as he leaned in closer still. “Your friend is right, I probably will kill him anyway. But there are all sorts of ways to die, some a lot slower and more painful than others. How about it? Have you ever seen a kneecap explode?”

  She shook her head.

  “And whatever I do to him, I’ll do to your father when I find him. With or without your help, I will find him. You can make it easier on me and you can make it easier on your father. Your choice.”

  “What do you want my father for? What did he do to you?”

  “To me? Nothing. I just want to talk with him, that’s all.”

  “Before or after you blow up his kneecap?”

  Simon smiled internally. The old Ella was making a comeback.

  “Maybe a little of the hero’s blood will loosen her tongue,” Carl said, leveling his gaze at Simon. “Go ahead, Chopper, use your knife.”

  Chopper raised the knife to Simon’s throat, but he paused. “You want him dead, you kill him.” He lowered the blade and pushed Simon ahead of him. The pressure of his hand hitting Simon’s back felt like a million razor blades slicing through his skin.

  They came to a stop a few feet short of Carl and Ella. “I’m in this for one reason, and you know it,” Chopper growled. “I agreed to join up with you just to expedite my cause. That means I take care of the men who wronged me. They’re mine. Someone like this man? He’s yours.”

  “Why?” Simon asked. “And what is it you two want so much? I mean, besides spreading misery and mayhem, what is it you’re both after?”

  He was totally ignored as the two men glared at each other. Hoping to capitalize on their mutual animosity, he added, “You guys weren’t buddies on the cliff. You were trying to kill each other. That’s got to make trusting each other kind of tricky.”

  Carl cast him a withering look. Well, okay, it had been an amateurish attempt to play them against each other, but what other choice did he have? How could he possibly disarm both men? Carl might have relaxed his hold on Ella a little, but the gun was still positioned at her temple.

  Carl finally spoke. “We’re a team,” he told Chopper. “I’ll prove it. I’ll kill the Good Samaritan.” The clicking sound as he cocked the gun seemed to shoot through Simon.

  “Wait! Okay, okay, I’ll tell you,” Ella gasped. “The meeting is at the last restaurant leaving Storm Creek going north.”

  “What’s its name?”

  “The Red Barron. No, the Red Barn. That’s what it is, the Red Barn. Don’t hurt him.”

  Carl rocked back on his feet, grinning. “That’s my girl.” Addressing Chopper, he added, “The leftovers from the bomb-making material and the receipts for all the equipment are in the trunk. Get them. We’ll set the Samaritan up inside that building with all the evidence and stage a little suicide. That ought to take care of a couple of loose ends at once.”

  “But you said—” Ella began.

  Carl kissed the back of her neck. “Since when did you get so gullible, sweetheart?” Once again addressing Chopper, he added, “Use that tape you have to gag and bind my wife first. We’ll leave her in the car.”

  As Chopper once again began ranting about Baxter’s tendency to issue orders, Simon glanced at Ella. There was a cold, detached look creeping into her eyes. If Simon was a betting man, he’d lay odds she was a breath away from trying to break free from Carl. It might work. The man was so disdainful of her strength of will, he might underestimate her, and from his position, he couldn’t see the anger brewing in her face. He shouldn’t have made fun of her, shouldn’t have kissed her neck…

  Simon had no idea how far she would get, but that wasn’t the point. He was pretty sure Carl wouldn’t risk shooting her.

  Did she realize no one had picked his gun up from where he’d slid it? He didn�
�t dare turn around and look, but he knew it was there. Chopper hadn’t bent over to retrieve it. If she could make it to the ramp and remember the gun, she’d be armed.

  A roaring noise seemed to come from nowhere. Simon looked up in time to see the motorcycle burst out of the dilapidated building behind the car and fly over them, missing Carl’s head by less than a foot. The helmeted rider landed the bike with a jolt. Skidding, he turned the big machine and headed back, aimed at Carl.

  As Simon looked around for Ella, he saw her fling her head back hard, hitting Carl in the nose. Between the advancing bike and the sudden impact on his face, Carl’s grip loosened enough for Ella to break free. The two thugs dived for cover as Simon grabbed Ella’s good hand and dragged her up the ramp, retrieving his revolver on the way. His aching body was forgotten in the need to find something better to hide behind than rusty metal and rotting wood.

  Outside, he heard shouting and the sound of an engine. They had almost reached the far end of the building when the motorcycle appeared in the sunlit opening on the end they were nearest to, the sound deafening as it tore up to within a few feet of them.

  Ella tensed as she stepped back against Simon. She was heaving. He knew exactly how she felt.

  Without turning off the engine, the rider tore off the helmet and looked at each of them, his gaze lingering on Ella.

  “Who are you?” Simon demanded.

  “The name is Jack.”

  “Do I know you?” Ella said.

  “No, cariño,” he answered after a brief pause. He handed the helmet to Ella and added, “Put this on.” Pieces of gray tape hung from his wrists and circled the hem of his jeans.

  “Get her out of here now,” Simon said.

  “I’m not going, you are,” Jack said as he slid off the big bike. He touched Ella’s arm and motioned her to climb aboard.

  She paused. “But what about you?”

  “I’m staying here.” He looked at Simon and added, “The very large man found himself an automatic, I guess in the car, so now they’re both armed.”

  “I can’t leave you—”

  “No time to argue,” Jack said.

  “Then take my gun.”

  Jack threw up his hands. “No, no gun. I don’t need that kind of grief.”

  Simon stuck the weapon in his belt. “I’ll call the police as soon as I get away from here,” he said.

  “No police.” The response was quick and adamant.

  What was it with everybody suddenly hating cops? “Listen,” Simon said, “those men are murderers. Then there’s the bomb—”

  “No police,” Jack repeated. “You heard Baxter, you heard him say Ella was involved in this. Until you find out how deeply, no cops.”

  “How do you know my name?” Ella asked. “Are you following me, too?”

  “No, mija, I’m following him.” He pointed at Simon; then his voice turned low and urgent. “Listen, both of you, there’s no time to argue. I’m not suicidal. I’ll keep them busy for a while, then escape via the water. Leave my bike on the same side of the street as your car, keys under the seat. Don’t worry about me, think about her.”

  “But—”

  “Vaya rápidamente. Tenga cuidado,” Jack said, and without a backward glance, ran toward the ramp where they could all hear the approaching footsteps of the enemy.

  AS ELLA HAD BEEN in a drugged stupor for the ride out of town, she had no clue how far they’d traveled. It came as a shock to discover they were only a few miles from downtown Tampoo.

  She was very careful not to touch Simon’s back as she sat behind him. The plaid shirt hid the torn flesh, but the dried blood and glittering glass shards embedded in the cloth suggested some slicing and dicing under the flannel. She’d seen the pain in his eyes as Chopper pushed him down the ramp.

  The traffic was still snarled in front of the depot that was now surrounded with police tape and emergency vehicles. Simon stopped short of their destination, guiding the bike to a parking spot a couple of blocks away. She took off the helmet as he turned off the engine, running a shaky hand through her hair. Once she was on her feet again and Simon had deposited the keys, she propped the helmet on the bike seat.

  She looked up at him, the world suddenly spinning. In a flash, he grabbed her arms and steadied her and she did what she’d been aching to do for hours. She leaned in against him, tucking her head under his chin, his strong heart thumping under her cheek, the warmth of his body stealing into hers, chasing away the chill. When she felt his lips against her forehead and the pressure of his arms around her, a sense of peace stole into her heart.

  The sound of a siren snapped her out of the moment.

  “Now what?” she said.

  He took her arm and hustled her down the sidewalk toward their car. “I don’t suppose you lied to Carl about the contact information?”

  “They gave me something. I told them everything.” She ran a hand over her face, wincing as she rubbed scratches and abrasions raw again. “Except for the last thing. I lied about the Red Barn.”

  “Then the meeting isn’t at a restaurant?”

  “No. It’s at a place called Thunder Lodge.”

  The corner of his lip lifted. “I could have sworn you were telling the truth.”

  “I hope my father doesn’t have to pay for what I did. I can’t believe I married Carl. Is it true he planted the bomb in the bus depot?”

  “As a diversion to cover snatching you.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Thankfully it was just me and a kid near the door, and he seemed okay. I’m not sure about anyone else. It must have been a pretty small bomb, but it did a hell of a lot of damage.” He rubbed his jaw. “Listen, did you ask the contact any of the questions we talked about? You know, like what the hell is going on?”

  “Of course I did. He wouldn’t tell me a thing. He actually made the man in Rocky Point seem talkative.”

  Simon looked away at once.

  “Just who is Jack?” she asked.

  “I was hoping you could tell me. He seemed to know you.”

  “Everyone seems to know me,” she said, and not without some exasperation. “But he said he was following you. Where did he come from?”

  “Literally out of the blue. Let’s hurry, I don’t want to be caught standing on the street if…”

  His voice trailed off, but she knew exactly where he was going with it. If Carl and Chopper defeated Jack. If they came looking…

  The car was clear of most of the commotion. The knot in Simon’s jaw as he looked back at the police directing traffic and the emergency crews investigating the scene tugged at her conscience. What had aligning himself with her cost him? Both personally and professionally, she was sure he was paying an awful price.

  Why would a man give up so much of who and what he was for a complete stranger?

  The answer seemed very clear—he wouldn’t.

  But he said he was.

  She got into the passenger seat. Within minutes, Simon had circled the block, driving in such a way his back didn’t touch the seat. He took the nearest on-ramp to the freeway, which happened to be one heading south, but at this point it didn’t seem to matter that much where they went, just that they went. Maybe going the wrong direction for a while was a diversionary tactic.

  With a million questions needing answers, they both fell silent, wrapped in their own thoughts.

  Ella’s eyelids kept closing, her head falling forward until she’d jerk awake. In those few seconds of stolen slumber, dreams pummeled her brain. In an effort to stave off sleep, she stared at Simon. For the first time since meeting him in the hotel lobby, he looked worse than she did. His face and hair were streaked with dried blood, his clothes covered with plaster and dust.

  “We’ve been going southeast for almost an hour,” he said. “It’s time to loop back around and head north. We need a map. I know where Idaho is, but I don’t know where Storm Creek is.”

  “I don’t, either,” she said. He
r voice sounded thick. For a second, she was back in the depot, heading for the door, anxious to talk to Simon, and then someone had collided with her and she’d turned, and just as she recognized Chopper without a beard, she’d felt a pinprick in her arm and her legs go limp….

  She rubbed her arm now, realizing there was a small irritated patch of skin six inches above her elbow. Man, would she like the opportunity to give Chopper a little of his own medicine!

  Simon eventually found a gas station, filled the tank and disappeared into the men’s room. When he emerged again, his face and his hair were cleaner, several cuts now bright red against his face. He obviously hadn’t tried to take off his shirt, and the spring in his step was subdued. Only the fire in his eyes revealed the anger she sensed inside him.

  She’d bought a map and huge cups of coffee while he was gone. As he slid into the car beside her, she showed him the tiny speck in Idaho’s panhandle that represented their next destination.

  “It’s practically in Canada,” he said.

  “Yes,” she agreed, taking small sips of the hot, bitter brew.

  They stared at the dot until Simon said, “First things first. The attendant in the station told me where we can trade in this car.” He drained his cup as Ella refolded the map, then drove them a mile or two farther, pulling off at an exit promising an airport ahead. Before reaching the airport, he turned off at yet another car rental place. They traveled the rows of cars for a few moments until Simon hit the steering wheel and grinned. “Look,” he said.

  She looked. “You mean the dark blue truck with the tinted windshield?”

  “Yes, but it’s not the windshield I’m thinking about, it’s the license plate. I was hoping this close to the Washington/Idaho border we might find a vehicle with Idaho plates, and there she is.”

  “So we won’t stand out when we get to Storm Creek.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Good plan.”

  He was gone for almost an hour, but when he reemerged, it was with the keys for the truck. They moved their few careworn belongings, but before he inserted the key in the ignition, Simon paused. “The woman at the counter said Storm Creek is about six or seven driving hours from here,” he said. “Before we go another mile, we need to consider the possibility that it may be time to stop this mad chase and turn things over to the police.”