by Cassie Miles
“Is my baby okay?”
“Let’s check it out.”
Usually, there was an implied trust between midwife and mom, but this situation was anything but usual. As Rachel hooked up the fetal monitor, she tried to be conversational. “When is your due date?”
“Two days from now.”
“That’s good. You carried to full term.” At least, there shouldn’t be the problems associated with premature birth. “Is there anything I ought to know about? Any special problems during your pregnancy?”
“I got fat.”
Rachel did a double take before she realized Penny was joking. “Are you from around here?”
“We lived in Grand Lake for a while. I went to high school in Granby.”
“That’s where I live,” Rachel said. “Is your family still in Grand Lake?”
“It’s just me and my mom. My dad left when I was little. I never missed having him around.” She touched her necklace and rubbed her thumb over the shiny black pearl. “Mom gave me this. It’s her namesake—Pearl. She lives in Denver, but she’s house-sitting for a friend in Grand Lake.”
They weren’t too far from there. Grand Lake was a small village—not much more than a main street of shops and lodging for tourists visiting the scenic lakeside. “Should I try to contact your mother?”
“Oh. My. God.” Penny rolled her eyes. “If my mom knew what I was up to, she’d kill me.”
Her jaw clenched, and Rachel talked her through the contraction. Penny must have had some Lamaze training because she knew the breathing techniques for dealing with the pain.
When she settled back against the pillows, she said, “If anything happens to me, I want my mom to have my baby.”
“Not the father?”
“Mom’s better.” She chewed her lower lip. “She’ll be a good grandma if I’m not around.”
Considering a premature death wasn’t the best way to go into labor. Rachel preferred to keep the mood upbeat and positive. “You’re doing fine. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
“Do you believe in premonitions? Like stuff with tarot cards and crystal balls?”
“Not really.”
“My friend Jenna did a reading for me. Hey, maybe you know her. She lives in Granby, too. Jenna Cambridge?”
“The name isn’t familiar.”
“She’s kind of quiet. Doesn’t go out much,” Penny said. “Every time I visit her, I try to fix her up. But she’s stuck on some guy who dumped her a long time ago. What a waste! Everybody falls. The trick is to get back on the bicycle.”
Though Rachel wasn’t prone to taking advice from a pregnant criminal who didn’t trust the father of her baby, she had to admit that Penny made a good point. “Doesn’t do any good to sit around feeling down on yourself.”
“Exactly.” She threw up her hands. “Anyway, Jenna read my cards and told me that something bad was going to happen. My old life would be torn asunder. Those were her words. And she drew the death card.”
Her friend Jenna sounded like a real peach. Pregnant women were stressed enough without dire warnings. “The death card could mean a change in your life. Like becoming a mom.”
“Maybe you’re right. I have changed. I took real good care of myself all through the pregnancy. No booze. No cigs. I did everything right.”
Except robbing a casino. Rachel finished hooking up the monitor and read the electronic blips. “Your baby’s heartbeat is strong and steady.”
When Cole returned with the raspberry tea, Rachel moved into the familiar pattern of labor—a combination of her own expertise and the mother’s natural instincts. Needing to move, Penny got out of the bed a couple of times and paced. When she complained of back pain, Cole volunteered to massage. His strong hands provided Penny with relief. He was turning out to be an excellent helper—uncomplaining and quick to follow her instructions.
When the urge to push came, Penny screamed for the first time. And she let go with a string of curses. Though Rachel had pretty much heard it all, she was surprised by the depth and variety of profanity from such a tiny woman.
Cole looked panicked. “Is this normal?”
“The pushing? Or the I-hate-men tirade?”
“Both.”
“Very typical. I bet you’re glad you took the gun away.”
“Hell, yes.”
A mere two hours after Rachel had arrived at the house, Penny gave birth to an average-sized baby girl with a healthy set of lungs.
Though Rachel had participated in well over two hundred births, this moment never failed to amaze her. The emergence of new life gave meaning to all existence.
Postpartum was also a time that required special attention on the part of the midwife. Penny was leaking blood onto the rubber sheet they’d spread across the bed. Hemorrhage was always a danger.
Rachel held the newborn toward Cole. “Take the baby. I need to deal with Penny.”
Dumbstruck, he held the wriggling infant close to his chest. His gaze met hers. In his eyes, she saw a reflection of her own wonderment, and she appreciated his honest reverence for the miracle of life. For a tough guy, he was sensitive.
Her focus right now was on the mother. Rachel urged, “You need to push again.”
“No way.” With a sob, Penny covered her eyes with her forearm. “I can’t.”
She had to expel the afterbirth. As Rachel massaged the uterus, she felt the muscles contract, naturally doing what was necessary. The placenta slipped out. Gradually, the bleeding slowed and stopped.
Cole stood behind her shoulder, watching with concern. “Is she going to be okay?”
“They both are.”
Penny forced herself into a sitting position with pillows behind her back. “I want my baby.”
With Cole’s help, Rachel clipped the cord, washed the infant and cleared her nose of mucus. The rest of the cleanup could wait. She settled the new baby on Penny’s breast.
As mother and child cooed to each other, she turned toward Cole in time to see him swipe away a tear. Turning away, he said, “I’ll tell the others.”
“Whoa, there. You’re not leaving me with all the mess to clean up.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Rachel sank into a chair beside the bed and watched the bonding of mother and child. Though Penny hadn’t seemed the least bit maternal, her expression was serene and gentle.
“Do you have a name?” Rachel asked.
“Goldie. She’s my golden child.”
From the other room, she heard the men arguing loudly. Catching bits of their conversation, Rachel got the idea that they were tired of waiting around. Bad news for her.
When the gang was on the run again, they had no further need for a midwife. She was afraid to think of what might happen next.
Chapter Three
In the bedroom, Cole stood at the window and looked out into a deep, dark forest. Fresh snow piled up on the sill. He could hardly believe that he was considering an escape into that freezing darkness. He lived in L.A. where his only contact with snow was the occasional snowboarding trip to Big Bear Lake. He hated the cold.
A month ago, when the FBI office in Denver tapped him for this undercover assignment, he’d tried to wriggle out of it. But they’d needed an agent who was an unfamiliar face in the western states. The operating theory was that someone inside the FBI was connected to the spree of casino and bank robberies.
He stepped away from the window and began repacking Rachel’s medical equipment in the cases from her van. Both of the women were in the bathroom, chatting about benefits of breast-feeding and how to use the pump. As he eavesdropped, he marveled at how normal their conversation sounded. For the moment, Penny wasn’t a hardened criminal and Rachel wasn’t a kidnap victim. They were just two women, talking about babies.
And he was just an average guy—shocked and amazed by the mysteries of childbirth. He didn’t have words to describe how he’d felt when Goldie was born. He forgot where he was and why he was there.
Watching the newborn take her first breath had amazed him. Her cry was the voice of an angel. Pure and innocent.
In that moment, he wanted to protect Penny instead of taking her into FBI custody.
And then there was Rachel. Slender but muscular, she moved with a natural grace. Her short dark hair made her blue eyes look huge, even though she wasn’t wearing any makeup. He felt guilty as hell for dragging her into this mess. Top priority for him was to make sure Rachel escaped unharmed.
From the bathroom, he overheard her say, “Your body needs time to recover, Penny. You should spend time in bed, relaxing.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Will the men agree to let you sleep tonight?”
“They’ll do what I say,” Penny said airily. “They can’t leave me behind.”
“Why not?” Rachel asked.
“Because I’m the only one who knows where the money is hidden.”
Cole feared that her confidence might be misplaced. Frank and the other two were anxious to get going. No doubt, they could force Penny to tell them about the stash from five different robberies in three states.
Rachel seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “What if they threaten you?”
“They wouldn’t dare. My baby’s father is the head honcho. The big boss. If anybody hurts me, they’ll answer to him.”
Cole held his breath. Say his name, Penny. He needed to know the identity of the criminal mastermind who controlled this gang and at least five others. They referred to him as Baron, and he was famous for taking bloody revenge on those who betrayed him. Cole’s reason for joining this gang of misfits was to infiltrate the upper levels of the organization and get evidence that could be used against Baron.
Rachel asked, “Does he know about Goldie?”
“Don’t you remember? I told you all about Baron, about how we met. Damn, Rachel. You should learn to pay attention.”
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“He loves me. After this job, he promised to take me home with him, to raise our baby.”
“Is that what you want?”
“You bet it is.” Penny giggled. “Want to know a secret? A little while ago, I called Baron and told him about Goldie. He’s coming here. He ought to be here any minute.”
Not good news. Cole might have been able to convince the others in the gang to release Rachel. These guys weren’t killers, except for Frank. Baron was a different story; he wouldn’t leave a witness alive.
From the bathroom, he heard Rachel ask, “How does he know where you are? Cole said this house wasn’t a scheduled stop.”
“Simple,” Penny replied. “This is Baron’s house.”
That was all Cole needed to hear. He could find Baron’s identity by checking property records. As far as he was concerned, his undercover assignment was over. He reached into his jeans pocket, took out his cell phone.
This wasn’t an everyday cell. Though Cole didn’t need a lot of fancy apps, he’d used the geniuses at the FBI to modify his phone to suit his specific needs.
The first modification: he could disable the GPS locator. Unless he had it turned on, he couldn’t be tracked. His handler—Agent Ted Waxman in L.A.—wasn’t thrilled with the need for secrecy, but Cole needed to be sure his cover wouldn’t be blown by some federal agent jumping the gun.
Second, his directory of phone numbers couldn’t be read without using a five-digit code. His identity was protected in case somebody picked up his phone.
Third and most important, his number was blocked to everyone. Waxman couldn’t call him with new orders and information. Cole, alone, made the decision when he would make contact and when he needed help.
Now was that time. He activated the GPS locator to alert Waxman that he was ready for extraction. Response time was usually less than an hour. Cole intended to be away from the house when that time came.
He slid the phone into his pocket and called out, “Hey, ladies, I need some help figuring out how to pack this stuff.”
Rachel came out of the bathroom. Right away, he could see the change in her demeanor. No longer the self-assured professional, she had a haunted look in her eyes. Beneath her wispy bangs, her forehead pinched with worry. She whispered, “What’s going to happen to me?”
Now would have been a good time to flash a badge and tell her that he was FBI, but he wasn’t carrying identification. “I’ll get you out of here.”
Her gaze assessed him. During the hours of Penny’s labor and the aftermath, a bond had grown between them. He hoped it was enough to make her cooperate without the reassurance of his credentials.
She asked, “Why should I trust you?”
“You don’t have much choice.”
Penny swept into the room and went to the travel bassinette where her baby was sleeping. “Be sure that you put all the baby stuff in the huge backpack so I can take it with me.”
“Like what?” Cole asked.
“Diapers,” Rachel said. “There’s a sling for carrying newborns. And you’ll need blankets and formula.”
“But I’m breast-feeding. My milk already came in. Does that mean my boobs are going to get small again? Jenna said they would.”
“Your friend Jenna doesn’t have children. She doesn’t know.” Rachel’s hands trembled as she sorted through the various baby items. “I don’t have a car seat I can leave with you. You’ll need to buy one as soon as possible.”
Cole saw an opportunity to get Rachel alone. He wanted to reassure her that help was on the way. He asked her, “Don’t you have a baby seat in your van?”
“I want it.” Penny climbed onto the bed and stretched out. Her pink flannel robe contrasted her wan complexion. “Get it for me.”
Rachel said, “I need that car seat for emergencies. If I have to transport a child to a hospital or—”
“Don’t be stupid, Rachel. You’re not going to need that van anymore. You’re coming with me. I need you to help me with Goldie.”
Rachel recoiled as though she’d been slapped. “I have a job.”
“So what? You’ll make more money with me than you would as a midwife.” Penny propped herself up on one elbow. “Come here and help me get these pillows arranged.”
Rachel did as she’d been ordered, then she turned toward Cole. “I’ll help you get the car seat out of the van. The straps are complicated, and I don’t want you to break it.”
From the bed, Penny waved. “Hurry back. I want more tea.”
He grabbed Rachel’s down parka from the bedroom closet and held it for her. She hadn’t said a word, but he knew she’d made a decision to stick with him. Not surprising. Trusting Penny to take care of her would be suicidal.
* * *
RACHEL DIDN’T HAVE A PLAN. Trust Cole? Sure, he’d shown sensitivity when the baby was delivered. The whole time he was helping her, he’d been smart and kind, even gentlemanly. But he also had kidnapped her and jammed a gun into her neck.
All she needed from him was her car keys.
When they stepped outside through the side door of the house, he caught hold of her arm and pulled her back, behind the bare branches of a bush and a towering pine. Edging uphill, he whispered, “Duck down and stay quiet. Something isn’t right.”
The night was still and cold. Snowflakes drifted lazily, and she was glad for the warmth of her parka and hood. Behind them was a steep, thickly forested hillside. Peeking around Cole’s shoulder, she saw the side of the house and the edge of the wooden porch that stretched across the front. Since she’d been sequestered in the bedroom with Penny and hadn’t seen the rest of the house, she hadn’t realized that it was two stories with a slanted roof. To her right was a long, low garage. Was her van parked inside? She couldn’t see past the house, didn’t know if there was a road in front or other cars.
Through the stillness, she heard the rumble of voices. There were others out here, hiding in the darkness.
She whispered, “Can you see anything?”
&
nbsp; “A couple of shadows. No headlights.”
Mysterious figures creeping toward the hideout might actually be to her advantage. She prayed that it was the police who had finally tracked down the gang. “Who is it?”
“Can’t tell.” His voice was as quiet as the falling snow; she had to lean close to hear him. “Could be the cops. Or it could be Penny’s boyfriend.”
“Baron.” He sounded like a real creep—much older than Penny and greedy enough to want his pregnant girlfriend to participate in a robbery. “Penny said this was his house. Why wouldn’t he just walk inside?”
“Hush.”
For a moment, she considered raising her hands above her head and marching to the front of the cabin to surrender. It was a risk, but anything would be better than being under Penny’s thumb.
Gunfire from a semiautomatic weapon shattered the night. She heard breaking glass and shouts from inside the house.
She wasn’t a stranger to violence. When she was driving the ambulance, she’d been thrust into a lot of dicey situations, and she prided herself on an ability to stay calm. But the gunfire shocked her.
Shots were returned from inside the house.
There was another burst from the attackers.
She clung to Cole’s arm. “Tell me what to do.”
“We wait.”
The side door they’d come through flung open. Frank charged outside. With guns in both hands, the big man dashed into the open, firing wildly as he ran toward the garage.
He was shot. His arms flew into the air before he fell. His blood splattered in the snow. He didn’t attempt to get up, but she saw his arm move. “He’s not dead.”
“Don’t even think about stepping into the open to help him,” Cole whispered. “The way I figure, there are only two shooters. Three at the most. They don’t have the manpower to surround the cabin, but they have superior weapons.”
Though her mind was barely able to comprehend what she was experiencing, she nodded.
He continued, “We’ll go up the hill, wait until the shooting is over and circle back around to the garage.”
