The Rookie

by Julie Miller

Rachel picked up the folder and pushed herself to her feet. She laid it on the desk and looked at the picture inside—in the clear light—to make sure she wasn’t mistaken. 93579. Daddy. The father of her baby was…

  “Curt Norwood.”

  Her head snapped up at the man’s voice from the doorway. “Curt!” Her gaze dropped just as quickly to the gun he held in his hand. “What are you doing?”

  He smiled. The face that had once been handsome now leered at her with a sick hatred that Rachel had never seen before. Had never wanted to see.

  “I’m taking what’s mine.”

  “WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME?”

  Aside from the nonchalant way he’d pulled the unconscious officer from his truck, or the way he kept his black steel pistol trained on her stomach as they drove through the night, Curt Norwood was every inch the charming intellectual she’d always known.

  “We’re going to school, of course. There’s a problem with a student I need to take care of.”

  “You mean Josh?”

  “He’s too young for you, Rache. He’s all wrong for you.” He lifted the gun and caressed her chin as if the weapon were the extension of a caring hand instead of the symbol of deadly control. “He’ll hurt you. Just as Simon did.” He flashed her a smile. “I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

  Rachel breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, willing herself to stay calm against the threat of such irrational violence. Keep him talking. Hadn’t she used that strategy before on stressed-out patients? Keep him talking. Keep him calm.

  “Josh hasn’t hurt me.”

  “He will,” Curt asserted. “He will.”

  “Why do you want to hurt me?”

  “I don’t.” He looked away long enough to steer the truck onto Volker Boulevard. “I’m trying to take care of you. I’ve always wanted to take care of you, Rache. But you wouldn’t let me.”

  “How is scaring me to death with those sick messages ‘taking care’ of me?” Another question popped into her head. “How is bringing Simon back into my life, and encouraging him to take my place at school, ‘taking care’ of me?”

  “I knew it would be difficult for you to see Simon again. To work with him. And I knew protecting your ‘miracle’ baby would make you desperate. I just wanted you to turn to me. I’ve loved you for so long, Rache.” He turned his tired eyes on her. “I just wanted you to need me.”

  “You’ve been my friend forever, Curt. I’ve always needed you.”

  His soft tone snapped and a vein pounded near his receding hairline. “But you never loved me! You fell in love with Simon instead. You should have loved me!”

  Maybe talking wasn’t the best way to go.

  Rachel shrank back into her seat, tightly hugging her belly. She kept her eyes glued to the gun. “Could you point that somewhere else? This is your baby, too. You don’t want to hurt her.”

  He actually obliged by putting both hands on the steering wheel, though the gun stayed wrapped in his fingers. “You never would have guessed that, would you? That I was the baby’s father. You wanted a baby so badly. I would have given one to you. I would have married you and laid you and given you that baby.”

  Not the most romantic proposition, even from a sane man.

  “How did you make sure I got your sperm and not someone else’s?”

  “Blackmailed Washburn.”

  “How?”

  Curt laughed and turned the truck toward campus. “You’re full of questions tonight. Sort of like that boyfriend of yours.”

  I know he’s a cop.

  So he’d said on the phone during his last threatening calls.

  “What are you going to do to Josh?”

  He laughed again. “You’ll see. That boy toy thinks he’s got it all, where the babes are concerned.”

  The gun waved toward her again and Rachel flinched. Curt saw the movement and laughed. He stroked the gun along her chin again, down her arm, toward Anne-Marie.

  Rachel swatted his hand away, risking Curt’s wrath to protect her baby.

  “I was supposed to rescue you that night. I was supposed to get your gratitude. But no, lover-boy showed up and beat the crap out of my kids.”

  “You set up David Brown, and Lance and Shelton, to attack me?”

  “Not to attack you. To threaten you. Your boy toy is the one who turned things violent.”

  “He was protecting me. He’s always protected me from you.”

  Curt’s mouth thinned into an ugly, unforgiving line. “I’m counting on that.”

  “What do you mean?” Oh God. He was using her as bait.

  Curt seemed to read the understanding in her eyes. “He’ll piece together the trail soon enough. The cop I knocked out at Washburn’s. Washburn himself. It was amazingly easy to convince him to put his gun in his mouth. Taylor will see the blood and my file. He’ll know you were there.”

  How could she fix this? How could she warn Josh?

  Because she had no doubt that he would come charging to her rescue. Only, this time his strength and charm and determination to do the right thing wouldn’t be enough to save her. They wouldn’t be enough to save him. This time, the consequences could be deadly.

  Curt pulled the truck into the faculty parking lot and shut off the lights and engine. “When Washburn called me and said he had a guilty conscience about the deal we made and was going to tell you the truth, I got the idea for the perfect way to get your annoying little boy toy out of my way.”

  “If you think I’m going to somehow fall in love with you after this—”

  “You’re the mother of my child!” he barked, leaning across the seat, pinning her against the door.

  Trapped with his hand on her hip, his gun at her breast and his hot, wet breath in her ear, Rachel fought the urge to gag.

  Now his voice was just a whisper. “If we can’t be together, then you can’t be together with her. I’ll take her. She’s mine. And since I told Dean Jeffers about your illicit relationship, I know I’ll get the promotion. I’ll have everything and you’ll have nothing. Nothing but that shallow boy toy who ruined your life.”

  Rachel’s breath came in shallow gasps. Her heart thumped in her chest. She could feel her blood racing, charging ahead of the fear that nearly consumed her.

  “I’ll do whatever you want, Curt. Just don’t hurt my baby.”

  “Our baby,” he corrected her. But the promise appeased him. For now. He opened the door behind her and pushed her out of the truck. His rough grip on her arm kept her from falling.

  Then he shoved her along beside him, toward her classroom. To set the bait in the trap that would lead Josh to her.

  The trap that would get him killed.

  “CAN’T YOU DRIVE any faster?”

  Under any other circumstances, Josh would have marveled at A. J. Rodriguez’s skill and precision behind the wheel. The man was one cool customer, taking the streets of downtown Kansas City at eighty-plus miles per hour.

  But not these circumstances.

  “Rachel needs me.”

  “Backup’s five minutes behind us, amigo. We don’t want to get there too soon.”

  “We have to get there before he hurts her.”

  If he hadn’t already.

  Josh had always felt like a grown man around Rachel. But he’d never felt old.

  Tonight, in the Fourth Precinct’s interrogation room, when David Brown told him that he was Curt Norwood’s right-hand man, Josh had felt world-weary.

  The pieces suddenly fell into place. A criminal studies professor who knew the in’s and out’s of police procedure. Who had access to hundreds of students who needed money. Who wanted drugs. He’d set up a covert empire built on the blood and death of innocents like Billy Matthews and Kevin Washburn.

  Norwood wanted David to hire Josh. Hire the cop. Bring him into the game so he could keep an eye on him.

  His brother Mac had been the first on the scene at the Washburn place. He didn’t think it looked like cu
t-and-dried suicide, judging from the position of the gun. Mac had told him about the folder.

  About 93579.

  About Daddy.

  Curt Norwood was using Rachel to get to him.

  He would purposely hurt Rachel—or her baby—just to hurt him.

  “We’re almost there, man.” A.J. checked the twin sidearms strapped at either side of his waist.

  Josh checked his. He’d added an extra ammo clip in his pocket. Put a knife in his boot. Strapped on a flak vest. He cracked his knuckles beneath his taut leather gloves.

  One way or another, Curt Norwood was going down. A.J. spared a glance at Josh as he turned off the flashing lights and slowed to turn into a parking space on the street. “Are you sure he’d bring her here?”

  “Positive. He’s king here. He owns these kids. He’s in line to get a promotion from the dean.” Josh smiled. A smile of knowledge. A grim-eyed smile that held no humor. “He wants me to come to him as a student. Someone inferior in age and status.”

  A.J. shut down the car. “Does he know you want to tear his heart out?”

  “If he hurts Rachel, he’ll be tearing out mine.”

  “CURT, DON’T DO THIS. Please don’t do this.”

  Rachel twisted her wrists against the rope that tied her to the desk in the second row, but the bonds held fast.

  The lecture hall was completely dark. Curt was here. Somewhere. She could hear him breathing. But he didn’t speak.

  He was positioned so that he had a clear shot at any door, he’d said. Positioned so that he had a clear shot at her.

  True to form, when Rachel needed her to be quiet, Anne-Marie tossed and turned up a storm. The baby was sitting square on Rachel’s bladder. She didn’t think she could be more uncomfortable.

  But she barely noticed the pain and pressure.

  Josh was coming for her.

  And Curt was waiting.

  JOSH SILENTLY COUNTED to twenty, giving A.J. the time he needed to get into position at the main entrance to the lecture hall. He was going in the back way. By now his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He figured he’d have about half a second once they broke in, to spot Rachel and Norwood.

  Then he’d pray that he chose the right one to shoot at. The right one to protect.

  Seventeen… Eighteen.

  Josh took a deep, steadying breath and prayed.

  Twenty.

  A.J.’s shout came first. “Give it up, Norwood!”

  “Rachel!” Josh pushed the latch and shoved the door open with his shoulder. He dove for the floor of the lecture stage and rolled as all hell broke loose.

  A flash of gunfire from the far side of the seats. A.J. returned fire from his position up top. Shouts. Curses. More gunfire.

  “Josh! No! Get out of here!”

  “Rachel!”

  He climbed to his feet and threw himself toward her husky cry. He fired to the right, knowing his shots would go wide of their target. But he could pin Norwood down. Shut him down. Keep him from hitting Rachel with any stray bullets.

  “Dammit, Josh! He wants to kill you.” She was sobbing now.

  He reached her and swore. She was trussed up like some damn sacrifice. Forced to sit upright. Centered in the room in the line of fire from almost any direction.

  “Shut up, Doc.” He ripped the knife from his boot and slashed at her bonds while A.J. laid down a line of fire that kept Norwood busy. He cut her free from the chair and wrapped his arms around her. “By the way,” he whispered. “I love you.”

  “Get away from her!”

  Crack. His shoulder burned. “Damn.”

  “Josh!”

  “Now, Taylor!”

  He rolled to the floor, taking Rachel with him.

  The doors burst open from every corner and light flooded the room. Lieutenant Cutler and Ethan Cross and every other cop in Kansas City, it seemed, charged into the room.

  In a matter of seconds, it was over.

  Josh never moved, never eased his grip on Rachel. He shielded her with his body, past the last gunshot, past the command to surrender, past the announcement that the suspect was dead.

  He lay there holding Rachel and her baby until A. J. Rodriguez tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Do you know you’re bleeding, man?”

  “Josh?” Rachel’s hands were still tied, but she moved those magic hands together, touching his face, his neck, his chest, his arm.

  “Ow!”

  “Josh, you’ve been sho—”

  He silenced the ragged concern in her voice by claiming her mouth with his kiss. He stamped his mark on her. Laid claim to her heart. Offered her his.

  When he came up for air, she was smiling. A beautiful, kiss-me-like-that-again smile. But her words stopped him short.

  “I love you, Josh.”

  He grinned. “I’m glad you finally realized that.”

  “And Josh?”

  “Yeah, Doc?”

  “My water broke.”

  SWEAT RAN INTO HER TEMPLES and pooled between her breasts.

  “You’re doing fine, Rachel,” the shift nurse praised her. “Now relax and breathe.”

  Rachel dropped her head back against the pillow and looked around the sterile birthing room. She saw the nurse, the cart with the blood-pressure monitor. The long tube that was anchored to Anne-Marie’s scalp, monitoring her baby’s heart rate.

  It was too soon. Her baby was coming too soon.

  The doctor had checked her once, announced she’d dilated to seven centimeters, and promised that everything was progressing normally, even if Anne-Marie was three-and-a-half weeks premature.

  But now she was alone. Except for the kind nurse whose name she couldn’t remember. And the soft balloon sculpture on the wall. And the intense pain that invaded her abdomen and forced her to sit upright.

  “Ow-w!” She breathed out, rapidly. Hoo-hoo’s and hee-hee’s.

  When the contraction passed, the nurse scurried out and Rachel leaned back. She was so thirsty. So tired. So alone.

  She and Josh had been taken away from the campus in separate ambulances and she hadn’t seen him since.

  He’d been bleeding. His blood had soaked his sleeve and the back of her tunic where he’d held her tight—putting himself between her and Curt Norwood’s bullet.

  Oh God. If she had any energy to spare, she’d cry out at the unjust irony of the past few hours. This was Curt’s baby she was bringing into the world. Obsessed, murderous, evil Curt Norwood was the father of her baby.

  How could she ever explain to her little miracle that her father had tried to kill her?

  “Oh God.” Her despair was barely a whisper as she gathered strength for the next contraction.

  “Josh?” She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. She desperately wanted, needed, his strength right now. She needed to apologize. She needed to know he was all right.

  She needed him, period.

  “Hey, Rachel.” Another nurse had replaced the first. Mac’s wife. Her kind eyes and gentle smile were a welcome sight.

  “Hi, Julia.” A tall blond man came up behind her. Rachel tried to hide her disappointment. “Hi, Mac.”

  “How are you feeling?” he asked in that distinct raspy voice of his.

  “Like I’m having a baby.” Did they have something to report? “How’s Josh?”

  Julia smiled as she wet a washcloth and pressed it between Rachel’s parched lips. “The doctor just got done stitching him up. The wound was clean and superficial. They’ll put him on antibiotics just in case.”

  Rachel sucked on the washcloth before Julia removed it, nodding her thanks for both the good news and the drink. “Thank God. I saw the blood on him and—Ow-w!” Another contraction seized her.

  When she was breathing normally again, she noticed that Mac had made a discreet exit.

  Rachel felt the next contraction coming and looked away, concentrating on her breathing and ignoring the impossible-to-ignore pain.

  “Where’s Josh?” Rach
el panted.

  “I’ll go see,” Julia said.

  As she left, Dr. Conway hurried into the room, followed by the shift nurse who’d been with Rachel since she was admitted to the hospital.

  The nurse propped Rachel’s feet onto a set of stirrups while the doctor set up shop between her legs. “Ten centimeters.”

  Rachel burned inside. But she was so tired. So alone. So afraid that Anne-Marie was coming too soon.

  “Are you ready to push, Rachel?” The doctor sounded like that was a good thing.

  Rachel could only nod.

  “You’re not having this baby without me, are you, Doc?” The tall, bronzed giant with the wicked grin and deep, sexy voice stood in the doorway smiling at her.

  “Josh!”

  She reached out to him and he came to her. He bent down and kissed her full on the mouth. She dug her fingers into his hair and kissed him back, drinking in his strength and love.

  She only came up for air as the next contraction hit her.

  With one arm bandaged in a sling, Josh sat behind her and propped her up on the bed as she pushed. He fed her chipped ice and wiped her damp forehead and whispered words of love and encouragement into her ear.

  And together they brought her bright, bellowing baby girl into the world.

  “Josh?” Rachel could barely breathe. She could barely see through her tears. “Oh, Josh, how is she?”

  She blinked and saw the tears shining in Josh’s eyes. He kissed her soundly, stealing her breath and healing her heart. “She’s gorgeous, Doc. Absolutely gorgeous.”

  “Would you like to cut the cord, Mr. Taylor?”

  Cocky, confident Josh Taylor’s mouth dropped open in stunned surprise. He looked down at Rachel, doubt clouding the azure depths of his eyes. Rachel reached up and brushed a tear from his cheek and smiled. She’d trusted her life to this man. She’d trust her baby to him as well. “Go ahead.”

  Minutes later, the nurse laid the baby on Rachel’s stomach and Josh Taylor kissed both his girls.

  His charming persona, tempered by the love shining in his eyes, was back in irresistible force. “You and Anne-Marie are my family. She’s the daughter of my heart just as you’re the woman of my dreams. Will you two marry me?”

  Secure in the love of this strong man, Rachel no longer saw the differences in their ages. She saw his strength. His humor. His fiercely protective nature.