The Firefighter’s Secret Baby Page 2

  “It’s me, sweetheart.” He flashed that bad-boy grin that had weakened her knees. There was worry there, too, and a world of questions swirling behind his forced confidence. “You sure know how to get a country boy’s attention.”

  Then he winked, God help her. A surreal giggle escaped her chest. A croaking cough followed. The kind of cough that old people made when they only had a few breaths left.

  Sam let the memories flood back. They were stronger than reality. Closer. Memories that reminded her how much she’d needed him over the last nine months. Memories of a strong, dark-haired man with deep brown eyes and a surprisingly gentle touch. Of how his playfulness had given way to a passion she couldn’t resist. Just like she couldn’t stop herself from gazing up at him now and clinging to the miracle of him being there.

  “Sam?” that voice from her dreams said.

  “Randy?”

  “You may be hurt badly, baby.” The car shifted around her. Then the magic of his touch was smoothing across her cheek, down to the pulse beating a tantrum at the base of her throat. “You have to hold still until we can free you from this mess. Stay with me, Sam. Do you hear me? Sam? Damn it, answer me!”

  “I…I’m here. My stomach…Ah!” She tried to draw her legs up against the next wave of cramps, but she couldn’t pull them close enough. “It hurts.”

  “I know. You have to hold still until we can stabilize your entire body.” He pulled away. Yelled something toward the footsteps she could hear outside the car. Then his handsome face reappeared above her. His helmet was gone. His hair was tousled and matted with sweat, even though Sam was freezing from the cold night air. He inched his body back inside, a little closer this time. “Does anything else hurt besides your belly? Does it feel like your water’s broken?”

  “How…”

  How could Randy be there, exactly when she and her baby needed him most?

  He’d asked her a question.

  Where did it hurt?

  Actually…

  “I…I can’t feel much of anything again.” The next contraction was weaker than the last. “The baby’s not moving as much…”

  “Just hang tight,” he said. “We’ll get you out of there.”

  Despite his assurances, Randy’s voice had tightened. He was pushing even further into the unstable wreck.

  “Help me,” she begged.

  “What the hell are you doing, Montgomery?” someone demanded. “You trying to bring the whole damn thing down on top of us! We don’t have this mess secured. Back off!”

  And that’s when Sam saw the truth in Randy’s eyes.

  “I’m dying, aren’t I?” she asked. “Because I didn’t wait for my security. Because I panicked. They don’t know where I am, and…and it’s too late, anyway. But the baby—”

  “Are you kidding me?” Randy flashed his killer grin again. “There’s no such thing as too late. Not on my watch. Losing you would ruin my rep. You’re not going to do that to me, are you? Keep talking until my guys can get me all the way in there, okay? Stay with me, Sam. Talk to me about something good. Tell me…Tell me about your baby.”

  Her baby. The only reality that mattered now.

  “It’s not just my baby…” Sam closed her eyes. The concern on Randy’s face, the shredded mess she’d made of the car. The memory of Gabby’s voice over the phone. It was all twisting together now. Pulling Sam in a million directions. Further away from Randy.

  No!

  Not until he promised.

  She forced her eyes open. She had to see his face. She had to tell him.

  “No matter what happens to me, take the baby,” she whispered. “Promise me you’ll protect her. Don’t let them hurt her….”

  “Let who hurt her?”

  Randy’s frown, the protectiveness behind his bewildered tone, pierced Sam’s heart.

  “Who are you running from?” he asked over the growing racket outside the car. “Is that why you weren’t there when I woke up that morning? Tell me who’s got you so scared, Sam. Let me help you.”

  This wasn’t about her. She had to make him understand.

  “No! Our daughter.” Sam shook her head. She could hardly see him now. “This baby…she’s yours. Don’t tell anyone that you know. Don’t trust anyone. But you have to protect her, Randy. Promise me…Don’t let him destroy our baby, too….”

  “CAREFUL!” There was nothing about being on the outside of an extraction, looking in, that Randy had ever liked. But waiting was his job, once he’d scouted the wreck and his team was in place. Getting out of the way and letting the other guys work was the best thing for a victim. Except this was no ordinary victim his men were fighting to free.

  The last time—the only other time—he’d seen Sam, they’d slept together. Except what they’d shared went deeper. From the second he’d first seen her, he’d sensed she was different. Special. Now, nearly nine months later, she was pregnant and fighting for her life at an accident scene that was at the moment beyond Randy’s control.

  The storm raged on around them. Rain was showing no sign of letting up. The hydraulic drive of the Jaws of Life made a deafening sound as it did its dirty work. The cutters had already sliced through the crumpled roof and the car’s dash. The guys were readying the spreader and ram, techniques for opening and lifting the interior of a vehicle enough to clear space for EMTs to get in. That was, if they didn’t bring the whole mess down on top of the woman who’d said she was carrying Randy’s baby.

  The equipment started up again and the entire car shook. Randy felt the next crash in his bones.

  “Careful!” he snarled.

  “Easy, man,” Donaldson said beside him. He wiped his sleeve over his eyes to clear the rain splattering under the bridge of his helmet. “They got it under control.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Randy’s guys rocked. Each team member trusting the other was the key to saving a victim. Any delay he caused by distracting the other men could be the extra time the medical professionals needed to preserve life.

  Except this was Sam.

  Randy had to get to her. He had to talk to her. Ask her a million questions, especially about the baby.

  She’s yours, too. Don’t tell anyone that you know. Don’t trust anyone…Protect her. Promise me.

  What the hell had she meant, Don’t let him destroy our baby, too?

  An Atlanta police officer trudged through the storm and toward the impending temper tantrum Randy was going to have if Sam wasn’t free in the next five minutes.

  “Do we have an ID yet?” the officer asked.

  APD’s first priority was to secure the scene and reroute traffic. Only then did they worry about who was involved in the accident itself.

  “No,” Randy yelled over his team’s work. Had Sam really meant not to trust anyone? Even the police? “I didn’t get to anything personal while I triaged her. She’s delirious. Not making much sense. I’d recommend investigating the possibility she was run off the road. Sounds like there was another car involved.”

  Delirious or not, Sam had said someone was trying to kill her.

  “Yeah.” The officer motioned behind him with his thumb. “That federal marshal over there suggested the same thing. But we don’t have enough details from witnesses yet to classify it a hit-and-run. Did she say—”

  “She’s out of her mind in pain, and prematurely delivering her baby!” Randy caught Donaldson’s narrowed glance at his outburst. He sighed and gave the officer his full attention. “You’re going to have to wait until…Wait. What federal marshal?”

  A tall man had followed the officer. His dark business suit was unwrinkled and spotless, despite the water the storm was dumping on him. Everyone else at the scene looked like drowned rats.

  “I need whatever information you can give me about what happened here,” he said. “Tell me what the victim in that car has said to the first responders.”

  “You need to step back, sir.” Randy indicated to a spot well away from
the scene. His raised eyebrow asked the APD officer what was going on.

  “Yeah.” APD crossed his arms. “That’s what I was trying to tell him. But—”

  “I’m a deputy federal marshal.” The man pulled a wallet from his coat and flashed a badge. “The name’s Max Dean.”

  “Dean?” Seriously? It sounded like something out of a western. “Well, Marshal Dean. Your information is currently trapped inside a few tons of scrap metal. You’re going to have to step back and—”

  “I assure you I have the authority to conduct whatever investigation is necessary,” the man said.

  And Randy was going to keep everyone the hell away from Sam, until she was safe and could explain what was going on.

  “Your federal authority is real impressive and all.” Randy produced his slowest southern-boy smile. “But the security of this scene and everyone here is my call until EMT has my victim stabilized. You’re going to wait, sir. For your own safety, of course.”

  “We’re in!” Gibson shouted from the wreck.

  Randy’s crew was already disengaging their tools. They’d have the EMT team in place in under sixty seconds.

  “I need to get in there.” Dean tried to shoulder his way closer.

  Randy braced a forearm against the marshal’s chest.

  “Let my team work.” Randy curbed his own impulse to rush to Sam. “All it takes is one slip of our equipment. One miscalculated move. The victim was unconscious when I climbed down. Before that, she was talking nonsense. There’s nothing for you to do here, unless you’re trying to put her life in even more danger.”

  Randy studied the marshal’s reaction. There was nothing to see but the man’s growing irritation. Whatever Dean was doing there, he didn’t give a shit about Sam.

  A female EMT eased into the wreck. Her partner hunkered down and began feeding her equipment and supplies.

  “You spoke with the driver?” Dean wanted to know.

  Randy didn’t answer. He didn’t breathe. He narrowed his attention to what was happening in the car.

  “What exactly did you two discuss?” the marshal pressed. “I need to be made aware of everything that’s happened. Your victim is a principal in one of my operations.”

  Randy grabbed the man by his suit’s rain-soaked lapels, losing patience with every out-of-control thing swirling around him.

  “All you need to be aware of, is that your principal is most likely about to lose her baby, if not her own life!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  SAM SURFACED from the nightmare. She could hear Max’s voice. He was nearby. Separate from the fuzziness of her thoughts. What was Max doing in her bedroom? Why couldn’t she get her eyes to open?

  Other voices were clamoring around her. Above her. Someone reported on her condition. Very official. Something pinched her arm, then her hand. There was talk about IVs and leads. Beyond it all, Sam could still hear her federal marshal.

  Max sounded furious. But whatever was wrong, he would take care of it. And something was wrong. That was the one thing she was sure of. What had she done this time?

  Max was shouting at someone….

  Randy?

  Why was she dreaming about the federal marshal in charge of her protection arguing with a long-ago voice she refused to let herself think about anymore?

  Unless…

  Sam’s belly cramped. Rain flooded over her. A storm raged around her, beyond her, beating against her face.

  She hurt.

  Everywhere.

  “Ah!” she gasped, reality racing back.

  The vehicle chasing her…The accident! Randy being there when he shouldn’t have been, his deep voice and the concern in his eyes and his warm touch. It was real. It was all real.

  She’d told him to protect the baby. Their baby. She’d told him too much. She hadn’t told him enough. Now Max was there, and the two of them were arguing. What had she done?

  She tried to fight the pain and the weight pressing down on her body.

  Move!

  Warn Randy!

  “The APD is under my authority at this scene,” Max shouted. “You can’t keep me from interviewing her. And you wouldn’t want to if you knew what was at stake.”

  “Then fill me in,” Randy demanded. “Otherwise, medical attention is all she’s receiving. The hell with your interview.

  “Isolate her from all but essential personnel,” Max insisted.

  An incredulous laugh followed.

  “Okay,” he said. “Which of my team or the cops or the EMTs do you consider unessential?”

  “I can have you restrained, Lieutenant, if that’s what it takes to—”

  “Try it. You’re not isolating this victim from me, Marshal Dean. Not until I—”

  “You got her out alive.” Max’s voice held an edge Sam had never heard before. Or maybe it was the buzzing in her ears that was growing louder, washing over every word until she had to strain to hear. “Job well done. Now get the hell out of the way and let me do mine. Before…”

  “Before what?” Randy wanted to know. “What the hell is going on?”

  “We need to transport her,” another voice said. Something gripped Sam’s arm. Tight. Tighter. “Her pressure’s bottoming out. If we don’t get her and the baby to the hospital…”

  The pain and the fear and Sam’s need to tell Randy to listen to Max and get out before the danger got too close—it was all fading, along with the cramping in her belly that was her baby fighting for her life. The dream was there again, reaching for her.

  The one where her daughter would be okay no matter what happened to Sam. Because Randy was there. He was smiling. Promising her he’d protect their child. Inside the dream, Sam could believe in promises and happily-ever-afters.

  “My baby…” she finally managed to say out loud.

  His touch stroked down her hair. She felt him lean closer. “You and the baby are going to be okay.”

  “Protect our daughter, no matter what,” she whispered to him. She’d spent nine months telling herself she had to let the ridiculous fantasy of being with Randy go. Now, it felt as if he was the only thing standing between their child and the danger Sam had brought into their lives. “Never should have happened…All my fault. But you have to—”

  “Everything’s fine, Robyn,” Max reassured her. He was closer, too. “We’re going to get you—”

  “Robyn?” Randy asked.

  “Robyn Nobles. That’s your victim’s name.” There was a silent pause. “Or is there something else you need to tell me?”

  “I don’t need to tell you a damn thing!”

  “Please stop,” she begged them both. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  She fumbled for Randy’s hand. She could barely feel it in her own.

  Maybe it was the weakness stealing through her. Maybe it was having Randy there. But it finally felt safe. She could let the fear and the fight go. There was nothing else to do. There was only this moment. It had all come down to this. Even if she didn’t make it, there would be someone there for her daughter.

  “Promise me.” She squeezed Randy’s hand. “Take care of our baby….”

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, it’s too early to tell?” Randy had been badgering Atlanta Memorial’s top pediatric nurse for ten minutes.

  He was being an ass, but his head was too full of pointless questions. He needed answers, and Kate Rhodes had been a family friend for years. As soon as she’d gotten wind that he’d ridden along with Sam’s ambulance and staked out the O.R. waiting room, she’d found him and stayed glued to his side, no matter how much he growled.

  “Emma will be here soon,” she said. “I’m sure she headed over the second you called her. Once she’s here, I’ll find your victim and get more information. Her injuries looked surprisingly minor, considering what I’ve heard about the accident. But her pregnancy puts her at greater risk for complications—”

  “I don’t need you to hold my hand until my big sister gets here. I need to know wh
at’s going on. Go—”

  “Not while you’re making the kind of scene that’s going to get you tossed off this floor.”

  Kate dragged him to a chair. She was a tall woman, but Randy still towered over her. She got him to sit, regardless, then settled beside him. The room was silent around them. They were alone, at least for the moment. He was still soaking wet and filthy from the scene. And Kate was right—he was punch drunk, reeling from everything that had happened.

  “Why are you so hung up on this victim?” she asked. “You’re usually thrilled to be the hero who walks off into the sunset. Not that anyone you’ve saved has ever complained. But it’s not like you to let the job get personal, Randy.”

  No, no one complained. And no one ever got close enough to mess with the calm Randy had carved out for his life. That’s how he wanted his career. That’s how he wanted his relationships outside his family. Except for the chaos his brothers and sister supplied in a steady stream, Randy just wanted peace. A peace that had been unsettled for months by his bizarre attachment to a woman he barely knew. And now…

  Don’t let him destroy our baby, too…

  Your victim is a principal in one of my operations….

  “Who is she?” Kate asked.

  Randy managed a careless shrug. “A pregnant twentysomething who’s banged up and giving birth.”

  “Yeah. I could have read that off the EMT’s report. But who’s she to you? Where are her people? It’s been hours since the accident. You’re the only one here waiting to see what happens.”

  Randy nodded, even though he was certain Federal Marshal Max Dean was ruthlessly asserting his authority somewhere nearby. Which only added to Randy’s determination to get some answers. He had no reason to believe that Sam’s child was really his, or to feel responsible for their well-being. But there had been cold deliberation in Dean’s eyes. Randy couldn’t shake the unreasonable compulsion to protect Sam from the man and whatever had her so terrified.

  Reason was how his world of fire and rescue worked. Except fear had taken control when he’d surprised his team and insisted on riding in Sam’s ambulance. Fear had kept him pacing at Atlanta Memorial ever since.