by Rita Herron
As it began to ease, Merry recalled Bonner’s appearance in the precinct on the day of the lineup. She’d thought the evil smile he’d flashed her way had been meant for her, but Lawrence had turned deathly white at the sight of him.
Merry had naively thought Lawrence was concerned about her. But now she saw his reaction for what it really was. His pallor had been from fear that Bonner would talk. Fear for his own safety, not hers.
She screamed at him, venting all the anger and emotion building inside her. Her obstetrician had been right about how she would feel as the labor progressed. She was furious. If Lawrence were in the truck with her right now she’d rip him apart with her fingernails.
Merry discovered she had no trouble believing that he was capable of murder. She cursed him at the top of her lungs.
Feeling better, she rolled down the passenger window and forced herself to sit up enough to peek outside.
She saw the Hummer facing her as it slowly pulled itself out of the mud. She looked around desperately, but she couldn’t see Trevor anywhere.
Her heart turned to ice. What would she do if she lost him?
A second vicious round of rapid gunfire split the air. Then the gunning of the Hummer’s big engine. She saw bright headlights aimed directly at her.
He was going to ram the truck!
Her pulse hammered as adrenaline surged through her. She wasn’t sure she could move. Her mind, which only moments before had been crystal-clear, was becoming foggy. The pressure in her groin from the baby’s head was an all-consuming ache, a fierce need to push and push, to have her baby and hold him in her arms.
But in a few seconds, if she didn’t act, her life and her baby’s could be over. She had to do something. She had to try to save her baby.
She looked at the small gun Trevor had given her. It was useless against the armored metal of the huge vehicle. She had only one chance, and that was to get away from the truck.
But could she? Her limbs felt weak as a newborn kitten’s. Her baby was sucking all her strength.
If Trevor were here—her eyes stung with tears. But he wasn’t. There was no one to depend on but herself. Her baby’s only chance lay with her.
The dull green, armored vehicle started toward her, yawing awkwardly on its flat tires.
Merry opened the passenger door and clumsily slid out. Her feet touched the ground and her knees gave way. She couldn’t make it. She was too weak.
She wrapped her hands around her tummy and stared in horror at the oncoming headlights.
TREVOR HEARD the Hummer’s roaring engine, strained by the icy mud and its flat front tires. But still it advanced, eating up the terrain as it was designed to do, the flat tires no more than a minor annoyance.
Trevor pushed himself up, clenching his jaw against the pain in his leg, and hobbled over to a tree. Leaning against it, he scoped out the area. Just this side of the ditch the Hummer was in, there was some high ground. If he could make his leg work, he might be able to get close enough to get a shot at Lawrence through the passenger window.
Was Merry all right? A quick glance at the truck sent his pulse pounding in his ears.
Oh God! Trevor squinted, praying his eyes were deceiving him.
But no. Clearly outlined in the bright glow of the Hummer’s headlights was Merry’s dark head and the red-and-green pattern of her dress. She’d climbed out of the truck and sat huddled on the ground.
He had to get to her. Exposed as she was, she was a perfect target. The Hummer was bearing down on her.
“Merry, run!” he shouted, his voice hoarse with fear.
She raised her head, as if she’d heard him over the Hummer’s roar.
What could he do? He felt the same sick helplessness that he’d felt as he’d watched Lisa falling down the icy steps, too far away for him to catch.
He’d failed to save his baby that night. But he would not fail this time. His eyes stung as he shouted again for Merry to run.
What if she couldn’t?
God, he was too far away. He straightened, ignoring the shooting pain in his calf.
He had to get to her.
In that moment, he knew that he’d give his life if it meant she and her baby would be safe.
LAWRENCE WATCHED in fascination as Merry hauled herself to her feet. She looked hideous, with her hair wet and plastered to her head, her obscene, stretched belly, filled with his brother’s brat, and her wide, desperate eyes glittering in his headlights.
He gunned the Hummer’s engine, cursing the damn detective for shooting his tires. He was ruining his favorite vehicle by driving on the rims, but he couldn’t worry about that.
Once he got rid of Merry, he’d have money to buy a dozen Hummers if he wanted them.
The vehicle climbed out of the mud like a tank. This was why he liked it. It could go anywhere, handle any terrain.
With the crunch of metal rims on icy road echoing in his ears, he accelerated slowly, centering Merry’s small, fragile body in his headlight beams.
BLOOD WARMED Trevor’s cold leg as he pushed away from the tree. He grabbed an icy branch to help him keep his footing as he called upon the limits of his endurance to reach the Hummer before it gained enough traction to ram the truck.
He couldn’t see Merry. Was she still crouched next to the rear wheels of the pickup?
Merry! Run!
He knew the Hummer’s engine drowned out all other sound. All he could do was force himself forward, and pray.
His leg threatened to give out on him, the bullet sending paralyzing cramps shooting through his calf. He lurched forward unevenly, gauging the progress of the vehicle. It was hurtling toward the pickup like a deadly weapon.
Suddenly the moon forced its way through the layers of clouds. Blinking clammy sweat from his eyes, Trevor caught a glimpse of the driver’s face.
He knew that dissolute profile. It was the man who’d been with Merry at the precinct that day. It was her brother-in-law, Lawrence Randolph.
“Hold it!” Trevor shouted, knowing his voice had no chance of carrying over the Hummer’s roar.
“Halt! Police!” Propelling himself forward by sheer will, he raised his weapon and shot without aiming toward the open passenger window.
The roar lessened for a split second and he heard a faint yelp. Triumph surged through him. He’d hit his mark.
The vehicle slowed and slid sideways.
Trevor spared a glance toward the pickup, but he couldn’t see Merry.
Please let her be all right.
Maybe she’d crawled away from the truck. As adrenaline gave him a bit more strength and he caught up to the vehicle again, his brain fed him a picture of her writhing in the icy undergrowth at the side of the road, having her baby alone.
Hold on, Merry. He growled and fired again. This time his shot ricocheted off the door frame.
Then he lunged at the vehicle, grabbing hold of the passenger side door handle.
“Give it up, Randolph!”
“Screw you!” Lawrence screamed, and wrenched the steering wheel to the right. Trevor lost his grip and scrambled out of the way as the Hummer angled further away from the road’s shoulder and stopped.
His leg quivering with weakness and pain, Trevor waited, poised for anything. He gripped his weapon in both hands.
Was Lawrence getting out?
He saw a flash of light on metal and dove to the ground just as a salvo erupted from the vehicle.
As soon as the barrage stopped and the engine began to roar again, Trevor jumped up.
He had to get to Lawrence. If he hesitated even a fraction of a second, Lawrence would cut him down with that machine pistol, just as he had Bonner.
So Trevor ignored the door. He ran, clutching his gun in his right hand, and used his good leg to vault toward the open passenger window. It was a last-ditch effort, but one way or another, he had to stop Lawrence.
His leg and his body screamed in pain as he dove through the window, his abdomen landi
ng on the hard edge of window glass. It knocked the breath out of him for a second.
Before he could recover enough to reach for Lawrence, the other man swung the butt of his gun at Trevor’s face, slamming him in the temple.
Dazed, Trevor slapped at the hot barrel and pushed it aside.
“I’ll kill you!” Lawrence shrieked.
Trevor wriggled through the window, hanging on to his pistol with all his strength.
His brain noted the blood staining Lawrence’s sleeve just as his foot stomped on something solid. The edge of the door frame. He used it to propel himself forward.
Lawrence twisted, jerking the machine pistol up, but Trevor shouldered the barrel aside and butted Lawrence in the shoulder with his head.
A pained scream told Trevor he’d hit Lawrence’s wounded shoulder.
Lawrence fought to hold on to his gun and wrestle the steering wheel of the slowly rolling Hummer.
As Trevor turned his gun on Lawrence, the other man let go of the wheel and fumbled with the driver’s side door handle.
The door flew open and Lawrence dove out and rolled on the ground, leaving Trevor scrabbling to right himself and stop the still-rolling vehicle.
The Hummer’s weight and momentum were enough to propel it up onto the road’s shoulder, aimed directly at the pickup.
Trevor wrenched the steering wheel, hoping to avert its path from the pickup. Still, the front of the armed military vehicle crashed into the front bumper of the pickup with a bone-jarring thud and the screech of tortured metal. The angle of impact caused the mud-caked tires to slide sideways and smash the driver’s side of the Hummer into the passenger side of the pickup.
Trevor’s heart stopped cold.
“Merry!” he shouted. Where was she? Had she been hit? He couldn’t stop to search. Lawrence still had the machine pistol.
He had to stop him.
The driver’s door was smashed against the pickup, so Trevor crawled out the passenger door, and came face-to-face with Merry’s brother-in-law.
Lawrence’s face was a distorted mask of anger as he aimed his gun. “Where is she?” he shouted.
Relief mingled with sharp caution in Trevor’s gut. Lawrence hadn’t found Merry.
Trevor eyed the machine pistol Lawrence clutched, knowing at this range one squeeze of the trigger would unleash a spatter of bullets that would cut him in half. His brain focused on his empty hands. He’d dropped his gun when he grabbed the steering wheel. It was in the Hummer.
Lawrence braced himself to fire.
With no other choice, Trevor dove under the gun, slamming into the man’s shins as gunfire sprayed near his ears and hit the Hummer’s chassis.
Lawrence fell backward with a shriek, and Trevor crawled up over him, wrenched the machine pistol from his hands and tossed it aside.
“You sick jerk!” Trevor slammed his fist into the streaked, panicked face, relishing the pain that shot up his arm as he heard bone crunch.
Lawrence mewled in pain and pushed at Trevor’s shoulders.
“She’s carrying your brother’s child,” Trevor roared. “Your flesh and blood.”
Lawrence screamed for help.
“Now you know how she felt, how those women felt. Helpless, hopeless. Knowing they were going to die.” Trevor reared back, ready to smash Lawrence’s nose into his brain.
A sound penetrated his rage. A scream from the other side of the pickup.
Merry. The baby.
The sound of her pain streaked through him like lightning, scorching the tattered remnants of his heart.
He had to get to her. She was the most important thing.
He looked down at the bloody, broken face of the weasel who had tried to kill her, sickened by the idea of touching him for one more second.
Shaking his bruised fist, Trevor rose and yanked the handcuffs from his belt. He hauled Lawrence up, ignoring his whimpers about police brutality, and dragged him over to the passenger door of the Hummer.
“Lawrence Randolph, you’re under arrest for attempted murder at the very least. We’ll get to the specifics later.”
Merry screamed again.
His heart hammering with worry, he cuffed Lawrence’s left wrist. “You have the right to remain silent—” He rapidly recited the litany as he jerked the cuffs through the open passenger window and wrenched Lawrence’s other wrist up to slap the cuff on it, leaving him dangling by his hands.
“You’re killing me!” Lawrence blubbered through the blood that flowed from his nose. “You can’t prove anything. I’ll have your badge.”
Trevor quickly assessed Lawrence’s position. He was secure. “You’re an idiot, Randolph. We’ve got Bonner’s body.”
Certain that Lawrence was immobilized, Trevor limped around the two vehicles, searching for any sign of the red-and-green Christmas dress against the icy landscape.
“Merry!” he shouted, shaking his head to clear it. Something was happening to his vision. It was going black on him.
“Merry! Answer me!” He swept his forearm across his eyes, fear churning like bile in his gut. He glanced down at his leg. The right leg of his jeans was black with blood.
Looking down sent dizziness spinning through his head. He staggered.
“Merry, please. Answer me.” His voice gave out. He had to find her before he lost too much blood. Before he passed out.
“Merry!” he shouted hoarsely.
“Trevor—” Her panting, exhausted voice sounded like an angel’s song.
“Where are you?” he croaked, relief and worry mingling to twist his vocal chords into knots.
“Over here.”
She sounded so weak.
“Keep talking,” he rasped.
“Trevor, hurry!”
He followed her voice to the other side of the road.
And there she was, propped against a tree, her small, pale face red with effort, her hair soaked, and those amazing green eyes gleaming at him.
“You have to…help me,” she gasped. Then she threw her head back against the tree trunk and groaned loudly as she pulled her knees up.
“The—baby’s here.” She puffed, her face growing redder as she bore down. “Now!”
Trevor stared, his entire body poised for flight. Dodging automatic weapons fire was a picnic compared to this.
“I can’t,” he whispered, shame and self-loathing crawling up his spine like a serpent. “If he dies—”
“Dammit!” Merry yelled, her voice thready and hoarse. “Get your butt over here! This—baby—is—not—going to—die! You can do it.”
Trevor was certain he couldn’t move. He stood there, rooted to the ground, anticipating the awful, unbearable pain of failure. He couldn’t go through it again.
Tendons strained in Merry’s neck and sweat poured down her face as she pushed. “He’s—crowning. Dear God, Trevor, don’t you care?”
On legs that quivered so much he was afraid he’d crumple, Trevor slipped and slid across the wet, icy road and knelt in front of Merry. With tears blurring his eyes, he pushed her dress up over her knees.
“Okay, hon,” he said brokenly. “I’m here. We’ll do this together.” He gently placed his hands on her knees and spread them apart.
Somewhere a part of his brain registered a faint high-pitched wail in the distance, like a siren, but he didn’t have the time or the interest to think about it.
His entire being was focused on the brave, beautiful woman in front of him and the child that was so determined to be born. The child he would not lose.
“I see him,” he whispered, so afraid and so awed that he could hardly breathe. He was watching a miracle.
“There he is. Come on, Merry.” He blinked away tears. “I can’t wait to see this little guy. Push for me, Merry. Push!”
Merry screamed and pushed.
Chapter Seven
Merry dodged the gloved hands that wielded a cold, damp cloth. She was in an ambulance, speeding toward Woman’s Hospital. The emergen
cy medical technicians had arrived just as Trevor had shouted in triumph that the baby was a boy.
Exhausted, she’d hardly noticed the EMTs surrounding her.
She barely remembered being lifted into an ambulance, where they’d cut off her dress and wrapped her in a soft white gown.
