by Misty Evans
Tick-tick-tick. His mind knew what his heart didn’t want to accept. They weren’t going to make it.
“Faster,” he shouted. “We’re out of—”
“I got it,” Sabrina’s voice called over their comms. “I defused the bomb!”
Hunter sent Connor a look that showed equal amounts of surprise and approval. “Nice.”
Connor slumped slightly with relief, but Beatrice’s body arched again and she cried out, and he and Hunter had to set her down.
The contraction racked her body, making her go rigid. Cal dropped Maria’s wrists and fell to the floor next to Beatrice as she started some funny breathing.
Cal was breathing funny too, as if he could barely get enough breath into his lungs.
Shock? Too much blood loss?
“We need to get both of you to the doctor,” Connor said.
Hunter stared at Beatrice’s hand, probably because, like Connor, he wasn’t sure where to look. “I called for an ambulance, but, um…”
Beatrice came up on her elbows, obviously bearing down.
“Um, what?” Connor asked. Something told him he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“It’s not going to get here,”—Hunter glanced at him and down at Beatrice,—“before the baby arrives.”
Everything in Connor went still. “What?”
Cal started to say something, but his eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped to the floor.
Out cold.
“Cal!” Beatrice yelled between breaths. She speared Connor and Hunter with a desperate look. “Do something!”
“I’ve got Cal,” Hunter said, jumping over Beatrice’s belly to kneel next to the man and check his pulse. “You handle the baby.”
“What?” Handle the baby? What the fuck did he know about babies?
And then, as he glanced down at his boss struggling to push while her injured husband lay next to her bleeding out, he sucked up his squeamishness and dropped to his knees next to her.
“I know zip about delivering a baby,” he confessed, “but I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”
“Unnnnggghhh,” was all Beatrice said, but she grabbed both of his hands and squeezed.
The pressure from that squeeze was like a hundred pound weight, making him grimace and nearly lose his balance.
Holy Jesus. “21 Pilots!” he said into his comm. “I need you.”
“Um, yeah, about that,” she said.
But her voice wasn’t in his comm. It was coming from…
His head snapped around, zooming in on the end of the hallway.
Fuck a goddamn duck. Could this night spin any further out of control?
There, at the end of the hallway, Sabrina stood staring back, Ebba Nielsson next to her with a gun pointed at Sabrina’s temple.
Chapter Eight
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SHE WAS GOING to die.
Even after she’d caused the distraction and defused the bomb, she was still going to die.
Worse, so was everyone else.
Connor, Trace, Maria, Cal, and Beatrice. The baby.
They’re all going to die because of me.
She’d heard the chatter on her comm, thought that Ebba had run off after Hunter had taken out her men.
“Surprise,” she said with false cheer to the group all staring at her and the woman holding her hostage. “I ran into a problem.”
“You bitch!” Beatrice yelled from her spot on the floor, where she was huffing and straining, and oh, my.
She was having the baby.
Like, right now.
Sabrina hoped B was calling Ebba the bitch and not her, but that was up in the air at this point.
Can’t blame her for being mad at me.
Connor, his face totally emotionless, held Beatrice’s hands. “What do you want?” he said to Ebba.
“Is that not obvious?” the woman said.
The barrel of the gun was cold against Sabrina’s very hot temple. Ebba’s body was hard and unforgiving against Sabrina’s back.
“You’re not getting the baby or Beatrice,” Trace said. His face was as emotionless as Connor’s. So was his voice. In fact, both men sounded completely cool and competent.
Sabrina wished she felt the same. Her knees were quaking, her stomach doing somersaults. “My father is a very rich man,” she said softly to Ebba. “Take me and leave the rest of them alone. You can get a very large ransom for me.”
The woman scoffed. “I have all the money I want. This has nothing to do with money. I want blood.”
Connor peeled his hands away from Beatrice and he rose slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Ebba.
Sabrina tried to catch his attention. To tell him, at least with her eyes, that she was sorry.
Why wouldn’t he look at her?
Then she saw his gun come up. It was pointed right at her.
No, not me. Ebba.
“The only blood that’s going to be spilled in the next minute is yours,” he said to the woman.
Sabrina’s already parched mouth went desert dry. Connor’s hand was steady, his stance solid, but the hall was barely lit and Ebba was standing partially behind Sabrina, using her as a shield.
Cal groaned from the floor, as next to him, Beatrice huffed and swore. Maria lay unconscious, blending into the shadows.
Trace sidled up next to Connor, shoulder to shoulder, blocking Beatrice and the others from Ebba. He, too, sported a handgun with the ugly black opening of the barrel pointed at Sabrina and Ebba. “Drop the weapon.”
Two against one. Ebba had to know she wasn’t going to win this.
Didn’t mean she wouldn’t take Sabrina—and possibly Connor or Trace—down with her.
Do something!
But what? An elbow to the woman’s ribs? A stomp on the top of her foot?
All of Sabrina’s self-defense moves seemed critically inadequate with a bullet only mere centimeters from her brain.
“My backup is already here,” Ebba said. Her accent seemed thicker in Sabrina’s ear. “They are waiting outside for my command. Did you really think I wouldn’t have more?”
“Yeah, about that…” a man’s voice came from behind Sabrina. So did the cock of a gun. “Your boys are a bit tied up at the moment.”
Sabrina knew that voice. Colton Bells, aka Shinedown. He was a crazy, cocky, SOB from what Sabrina had learned from the other SFI members, with a lazy Oklahoma drawl.
Ebba stiffened and jerked Sabrina closer. God, the woman was built like a brick wall.
Finally, finally, Connor took his gaze off Ebba and looked at Sabrina. His eyes met hers as a cocky smile spread over his face, even as he spoke to Colton. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”
Trace was smiling too. “You’re back.”
“Emit sent me and Zeb to handle the office right after you guys left,” Colton said. From Sabrina’s peripheral vision, she could see him leaning against the wall. Was he…cleaning his fingernails with a pocket knife? “Boss man thought you might need some help. Looks like he was right.”
The cold end of Ebba’s gun jammed harder against Sabrina’s temple as the woman tried to turn her and back away. It was clumsy and Sabrina purposely let her feet tangle with Ebba’s, but the woman was so very strong, her chest incredibly wall-like against Sabrina’s back. She kicked Sabrina’s calf and didn’t lose her balance.
Connor motioned with his free hand for Sabrina to get down and he held three fingers pointed at the ground, folding them one at a time.
A message.
Three.
Two.
One.
Drop.
Sabrina let her legs go slack, plunging straight to the floor where she purposely shoved Ebba against the wall.
At the same moment, Beatrice screamed, high and guttural.
Bam-bam-bam, gunfire echoed through the hallway, Connor’s boots growing closer in Sabrina’s view with every shot he fired at E
bba.
Cal rose like a phoenix from behind Trace with a fierce look on his face, his gun pointed at Ebba as well. He shoved Hunter aside and fired.
The report in the narrow hallway from all of the gunfire was deafening. Sabrina threw her arms over her head and went fetal.
Ebba’s body spun in a pirouette, bullets riddling her chest and back as they pinned her against the wall. They tore at her shirt, shredding it in places, and that’s when Sabrina realized why Ebba had felt so solid.
She was wearing a bulletproof vest.
Connor had almost reached her. He held out a hand to grab her and pull her away from Ebba.
“She’s got a vest!” Sabrina screamed just as she saw Ebba raise that awful black weapon again.
Time seemed to slow. She saw the gun point at Connor. Saw his free hand reaching for her, even as the hand with his gun rose to fire at Ebba one more time.
The bullets that had hit Ebba might not have penetrated her body, but she was still in pain and barely able to draw breath through her bruised ribs. She tilted sideways, her finger on the trigger and an evil grin on her face.
Connor threw himself over Sabrina, his gun and Ebba’s both going off at the same time.
Sabrina felt his solid weight fall on top of her. Felt his body go rigid for half a second, then soften.
“No!”
The scream tore through her head, out her throat. Wrapping her arms around him, she rolled them both over.
And came face to face with Ebba, her wide, dead eyes staring back at Sabrina as blood trickled from the bullet hole in the center of her forehead.
Colton leaned down over the woman. “She’s dead, Cal. You got her.”
“Um, someone want to help me over here?” Trace said as Beatrice screamed and Sabrina heard a gushing liquid sound.
“Connor’s hurt,” Sabrina cried, crawling off the man who’d just saved her life. His eyes were closed, blood flowing from a wound she couldn’t find. His black vest showing a hole in the left chest.
Oh, God. The vests could handle a lot, but a close range .40 cal slug?
“Connor!” Sabrina cried, shaking him as Colton leaned over and felt for a pulse at his neck. “Open your eyes, goddammit!”
Colton peeled the vest off to reveal Connor’s chest. Or maybe to perform CPR, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that her body shook with fear. She’d just found someone she really liked and on their first date—that’s what she was calling it, anyway—she’d managed to get him killed.
She grabbed his face between her fingers and thumbs and waggled it. “Don’t you dare die on me, you fabulous man. I have plans for you!”
Bending over, she planted a kiss on his lips, soft and gentle, a tear falling on his cheek.
SOMEONE WAS CRYING.
Squalling was more like it.
The baby!
Connor sat straight up, drawing a huge breath, and…
Shit, that hurt.
His chest was on fire. So was his neck.
“Whoa, there, cowboy.” Colton Bells knelt beside him, holding a balled up dishtowel to Connor’s neck. “You took a couple rounds, one to the chest and a graze to your neck. You’re bleeding all over Beatrice’s floor, so keep this on your wound.”
Connor wrapped an arm around his ribs. Or at least tried to. The fire in his neck seemed to make his arm useless. All it wanted to do was hang limp at his side.
And he was damn woozy. There were three versions of Bells floating in front of him.
“When you dove to save Sabrina,” Bells explained, pointing at a dent in the wall behind them, “you hit your head on the corner. Knocked yourself loo-loo.”
“Sabrina,” Connor croaked, using his good arm to hold the towel at his neck. “Is she…?”
“She and Hunter went to get the helo. We have a bunch of you to get to the hospital and the fastest way is with that pretty bird.” He lifted his head as they heard the thump-thump-thump of the rotors in the distance. “Sounds like your carriage approaches, Cinderella.”
Someone had restored the electricity and the lights were on. Connor blinked to clear his vision.
Ebba and her soldiers lay where they had fallen. Maria, Cal, and Beatrice were nowhere in sight.
“Where is everyone?”
Bells helped him to his feet. “Bedroom. Beatrice and the baby are fine, as you can probably tell from all the caterwauling you hear. Cal’s lost a lot of blood, but the bastard’s a tough SOB. He won’t let us touch him, he’s so enamored with that new baby. The midwife took a bullet too, but she’ll be okay once the surgeon fixes her up.”
Competing with the noise of the helicopter, Connor heard sirens approaching. “I’m fine,” he insisted as Bells walked him to a chair. “Take care of the others.”
“Yeah, that’s the same song I’m getting from everyone.” Bells shoved him into the chair and patted his knee. “Sit tight.”
He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, Sabrina was shaking him awake, her beautiful face contorted in a deep frown. “Connor?”
God, she was beautiful. Her red hair was a wild, glorious mess around her face, her hands shaking as she felt his forehead. He reached to touch her, but his right arm still wouldn’t work and his left hand was covered with blood.
He let his bloody hand drop, his vision once again going a bit wonky. Seeing three Sabrinas, though, was far better than three of Bells’ ugly mug any day. “You okay?” he asked her.
She smiled sweetly. “You saved my life. Of course I’m okay.”
“Come on, cowboy.” Bells was suddenly hauling him out of the chair. The red and blue of police lights swirled past the windows. An ambulance screamed to a stop by the front door. “Let’s get you into your carriage.”
Connor grimaced as Bells took his arm and threw it over one of his shoulders. “Take the others in the helo,” he said to Sabrina as they started walking him toward the back door. “Bells can drive me to the hospital.”
Sabrina put an arm around his waist to hold him up. “The ambulance is for Beatrice and the baby, and of course, Cal’s riding with them. I’m taking you and Maria to the hospital.”
Hunter passed them, giving Connor a friendly slap on his face. “You did good for a rookie, Irish.”
“Did you really just call me a rookie?” he demanded.
“Until you’re on my Shadow team,” Hunter said, “you’re a rookie in my book. We’ll talk after you’re stitched up.”
“About what?”
Hunter gave him a duh look. “Joining my team and losing your rookie status.”
“Your Shadow team?”
Hunter kept walking. Colton continued to move Connor to the back door. “Think you can handle Hunter for a boss?”
A Shadow team. He’d just been offered a slot on the elite soldier’s SFI unit. Could he handle it?
It was an honor just to be asked. He’d have to give it serious consideration. His PTSD was one thing; finding his replacement to run the office was another. Add to that, being on a paramilitary team would cut into the hours he had available to hunt down 12 September.
Hunter went to the front door and opened it for the EMTs who hustled in with a gurney. As Connor and the others hit the back door, Hunter was showing them into the bedroom. The baby had quieted, and Connor heard Beatrice laugh.
The sound was so good, so unexpected, he smiled right through his pain and dizziness. No one but Cal ever made Beatrice laugh. Maybe the baby would do that too.
A moment later, Sabrina and Bells loaded him into the helicopter. Maria was already inside, one bloody arm thrown over her eyes as she slouched in the rear seat with her eyes closed.
Bells strapped him into the seat next to Sabrina as she ran around to the pilot seat and hopped in.
The horizon was brightening with the sunrise, and Connor eased back in the seat and closed his eyes as the bird lifted into the air.
Chapter Nine
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SABRINA FLEW FAST through the morning air, dipping down through the valley, racing above the interstate, and rising up over the city. She’d radioed ahead to the hospital and they’d given her permission to land on their helo pad, the giant red X coming into view as she neared.
She should have felt relief, but both her passengers were out cold. From blood loss? From their concussions? From shock?
Do not panic. Any or all could be the reason. All she knew was that she had to get this bird down and get Connor and Maria into the hands of the professionals.
Please don’t die on me. Please don’t die.
The refrain swam through her head, over and over again as she chanced a glance at Connor, slumped in the seat next to hers, his face ashen. She’d tried shaking him, yelling at him, pinching him. Nothing had worked. The pulse in his neck beat so slowly and erratically, she’d barely been able to find it. All she could now was fly for all she was worth.
Because she was flying for his life.
Her hands shook, and her breath was tight in her chest. She’d just lived through a situation that had rivaled the bombing in Antwerp. That night, with all the injured, many of them her friends and colleagues, she’d flown flight after flight back and forth from the bomb site to the nearby hospitals.
Men and women had died in her helicopter.
She’d almost died when the perpetrators had sent a surface-to-air missile at her while she was in the air.
That impact and explosion still happened nightly in her dreams. The sensation of falling, falling, falling…
Connor coughed beside her, a ragged, burbling sound. Sabrina steeled her nerves as she stuck the landing, bringing the bird down swiftly but as gently as she could. A team of nurses and doctors ran out the door to meet her.
By the time she shut down the helicopter and jumped out, they already had both of her patients on gurneys and were headed for the building. Sabrina ran after them.
A burly male nurse stopped her before she could follow Connor inside. “Get that helicopter off the pad. The med copter is inbound with another patient.”
“What? But I have to stay here with him,” she argued.
