A stab of fear pierced Matt’s throat, but he managed to get a few words out. “You’re lying.’’
“No. I’ve got a special microphone pickup. I can hear her down there. She’s in bad trouble.’’
This time he recognized the voice. It was Marbella.
“Let us pass,’’ Matt shouted. “It’s over. You’ve lost.’’
Jed had already turned and started back up the incline at a trot—going for the helicopter, Matt knew.
“Give it up!’’ he shouted again, trying to angle himself into position to get the bastard. He was stopped by a spray of bullets.
Cursing, he ducked back around the rock.
“I never give up,’’ Marbella spit.
“Even when you’ve lost?’’ Hunter asked.
“Especially when I’ve lost! If I don’t get her and the kid, neither will you. And neither will Logan. If I have to go out, I’m going to take some satisfaction with me.’’
Raw acid churned inside Matt, eating away at his vital organs. Amanda was only a few yards away—but she might as well be at the center of the earth. Then a surge of hope coursed through him drowning out the acid. His own transmitter might be back in the SUV. But Amanda had one.
Dodging back several feet, he crouched low and pressed the transmit button on his walkie-talkie. “Amanda. Can you hear me?’’ he asked urgently. “Sweetheart, listen to me. Don’t waste energy answering me right now. You just have to help us out here. We’re at the entrance to the shelter. We’re coming in to get you. But Marbella is in the rocks above the entrance with a machine gun. He’s got us pinned down. We can’t get past him to get in there to help you. So you need to set off the charges above the shelter. That’s buttons eight and nine. Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you press buttons eight and nine for me?’’
He waited with his heart pounding. Then, unable to stand the silence, he pressed the transmission button again. “Amanda. Please. Help me. Amanda, what’s going on in there? Over.’’
She didn’t answer, and he closed his eyes, a prayer tumbling from his lips. “Please, God, please. Help her. Help her do it.’’
Seconds ticked by, each one a year of his life. “She’s too far gone to do it.’’ Marbella taunted from his hiding place.
Matt tensed, ready to make a run around the boulder. But he felt Hunter’s fingers tangle in his shirt—holding him back.
“Let me go,’’ he shouted.
“No. He’s got a clear shot if you go out there. You won’t be doing your wife any good by getting yourself killed.’’
In frustration, Matt jammed the transmit button again. “Amanda, for God’s sake, help me. Please. Press the buttons. Eight and nine.’’
He had given in to despair when the sound and shock wave of a blast hit him, knocking him back into Hunter, who grunted as he was flattened against the side of the cliff.
Debris was still raining down as Matt dashed forward. A chunk of mountainside hit his shoulder, but it didn’t stop him from leaping to the door. Frantically working the keypad, he cursed when he got the combination wrong. Then he forced himself to slow down and press the right sequence. When the lock clicked, he pushed the door open and bolted inside.
“Amanda?’’ he called. “Amanda!’’
The only answer was a low moan. Fear grabbed him by the throat as his eyes swept the dimly lit room and found her lying on one of the mattresses on the floor, her body rolling back and forth as she whimpered in pain. The walkie-talkie was three feet away. The controller was clutched in her hand.
Running forward, he knelt beside her, carefully prying her fingers loose and moving the detonator out of the way—removing the danger of more explosions.
“Sweetheart. We’re here. We’ve got you.’’
She looked up at him, her face contorted with pain, her eyes glassy. “Did I do what you wanted?’’ she whispered, raising her hand toward him. Like a piece of deadwood, it flopped back on the mattress.
“Yes!’’
“The baby’s coming. I tried to push,’’ she went on, her voice so low he had to lean forward to hear. “I kept pushing, but…but…something’s wrong…’’
Miguel came down on the other side of her. “Amanda, I’m Matt’s friend. Miguel Valero. I’m a doctor. I’m going to deliver the baby.’’
“Thank God,’’ she breathed, relief flooding her features as she turned the responsibility over to someone else.
Matt reached for Amanda’s hands, feeling her fingers clamp down on his so hard that he thought his bones might crack.
He talked to her, his voice low and reassuring, telling her everything was going to be okay. Miguel knew what to do.
From the corner of his vision, he saw the physician slipping on gloves. “I’m going to examine you now.’’
Matt held his breath, waiting to find out what was wrong. From the expression on his friend’s face, he knew the news wasn’t good.
When Miguel listened to Amanda’s abdomen with a stethoscope, his expression grew even more grim, and Matt felt the world contract around him. By an effort of will, he kept his own face from showing any of his fear.
Miguel put his hand on his shoulder and drew him away.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?’’ Matt asked urgently.
“Yes. Bad.’’ Miguel spoke rapidly. “The baby’s in a transverse lie. There’s a foot sticking down. If we were in the hospital, I would do a cesarean section immediately. But I don’t have any anesthetic.’’
“The helicopter,’’ Matt gasped. “We can get her to the hospital.’’
Miguel shook his head. “That will be too late for the baby. His heart beat is slow. He’s in distress.’’
“My God. What are you going to do?’’
“She’s fully dilated.’’ He swallowed. “I can grab the foot and do a breech extraction. That’s not going to be any picnic for her, either. I have morphine. That’s the best I can do for her.’’
“Do it!’’
Miguel’s face was drawn as he cupped Matt’s shoulder again, his fingers digging into the flesh. “I may not be able to save them both,’’ he said. “If I have to choose between Amanda and the baby, what do you want me to do?’’
Matt stared at him, hardly able to make his mind function. He’d heard stories of how the whole life of a drowning man flashed before his eyes. The same thing happened now. Only it wasn’t his whole life. It was the past few months—the precious minutes and hours he’d spent with Amanda. Falling in love with her. Watching her personality change and blossom as she outgrew the abuse of her past. Feeling the bond they’d forged strengthen every day. And his own bond with the unborn child, who had become as important to him as if he’d been the biological father.
Choose one of them?
The very thought made him physically ill.
“If I can only save one of them, tell me what to do!’’ Miguel’s voice penetrated his numb state of shock.
“Save them both,’’ Matt ordered, knowing he might be asking the impossible.
Miguel nodded tightly, then looked around the shelter. “Let’s get her up on the table so I have room to work. Position her with her hips a little over the edge. And you can support her feet with the chairs.’’
Matt bent over Amanda and picked her up, hearing her groan as he cradled her in his arms.
“That hurts,’’ she gasped out.
“I know, sweetheart. I know,’’ he told her, wishing he could take the pain into his own body. “You’ve been so brave. You only have to hold on for a little bit longer,’’ he added, hoping he was telling her the truth. “We’re getting you up where the doctor can work,’’ he explained as he laid her on the table, where Miguel had already spread a blanket.
Miguel was at her side then, talking to her. “The baby is turned sideways inside you,’’ he said. “That’s why you can’t deliver him. I’m going to try to turn him. I’m sorry; it’s going to be painful. But I can give you morphine.’’
“Please, don’t worry about me. Just save my baby,’’ she gasped, the plea choking off as a contraction seized her.
“I’ll do my best,’’ Miguel said, then reached into his bag and brought out a hypodermic.
Matt clenched his teeth, holding back the agony of fear that he knew he must not let Amanda see. He would give his heart’s blood for this woman. But all he could do was grab her hand and let her fingers dig into him again as the doctor administered the injection.
“Hold on, sweetheart. Hold on to me. Give the pain to me,’’ he whispered, knowing his voice would break if he tried to speak any louder. And knowing that what he was offering her was not nearly enough.
When he looked back at Miguel, he saw the doctor’s lips moving, heard low, rapid words in Spanish and knew that he was praying. Then he made the sign of the cross.
Until that moment, Matt truly hadn’t comprehended what he was asking of his friend. Now he felt his heart leap into his throat, blocking his windpipe.
The next few minutes were the longest of his life. He was afraid to watch what was going on, so he kept his eyes focused on Amanda’s face, wincing as her features contorted with pain. Every time she made a low, whimpering sound, he felt as if his heart were being torn from his chest.
Please, God, help Miguel do this. Please, he silently prayed, the words running together in his mind as the endless seconds ticked by.
When he heard a new sound, at first he didn’t understand what it was. Then he realized it was a baby’s tiny cry. When he turned and saw the perspiration on Miguel’s forehead and the look of relief on his face, Matt understood he had been present at a miracle.
“Is the baby all right?’’ Amanda gasped out, her words slurred from the morphine.
“Yes. You have a daughter. She’s good,’’ he answered as he suctioned the baby’s nose and mouth. When he laid her on Amanda’s chest, she cradled the tiny body and Matt circled them both while Miguel cut and clamped the cord.
“Bethany.’’ He whispered the name that Amanda had chosen. His sister’s name.
“Thank you,’’ he breathed—to God, to Miguel, to Amanda.
“We need to get both of you to the hospital,’’ Miguel said.
“Her Apgar score?’’ Amanda asked, referring to the tests that were used to evaluate a newborn’s condition. Her words were slurred from the drug.
“Six.’’
Her face contorted with anxiety. “That’s not good,’’ she whispered.
“Give her five minutes. We’ll try again,’’ Miguel said.
Matt felt Amanda’s whole being focused on Miguel as he worked on the baby.
Finally, he delivered his verdict. “She’s up to eight. That’s good!’’
“Thank you, oh, thank you,’’ Amanda breathed, and Matt saw that she was at the end of her resources.
“Just rest,’’ he whispered, watching her eyelids drift closed. He stared down into her face, relieved to see that the pain and the fear were over.
The sound of someone clearing his throat made Matt’s head jerk up. It was Hunter, who still guarded the doorway.
“Is everything all right?’’ he asked, his face anxious.
“Yes,’’ Matt told him, praying that it was true.
“Good. The rest of the invaders fled in their SUV,’’ Hunter said, then added, “Jed’s here. He can’t land, but we can lift them into the chopper.’’
Matt nodded, grateful that his friends were doing some of the thinking for him now. He helped Miguel wrap mother and child in blankets.
Miguel took the infant. Matt carried his wife, cradling her protectively against his chest, turning his head to give her a quick kiss on the cheek before carrying her outside.
Minutes later they were on the way to the hospital.
TIME WAS DISTORTED so that Matt wasn’t sure whether a million years had passed or only hours. But the clock on the wall said five o’clock, so he knew it must be early the next morning as he stood beside the bassinet gazing down at the tiny hand curled around his index finger.
He hadn’t left the hospital, but sometime during the night, his friends had brought him a change of clothing. Then they’d made him shower and get a few hours’ sleep, pointing out that he wouldn’t do himself or Amanda any good by falling on his face from exhaustion.
Now he marveled at the perfectly formed little fingers clamped around one of his. His daughter’s fingers. The child who belonged to him—because he claimed her as his own. As much his as any flesh of his flesh could be.
Mesmerized by the contact, he felt his eyes mist as he thought how easily he could have lost this precious new life. Or lost Amanda—the woman he’d fallen in love with before he knew what was happening to him.
He turned his head toward his wife, watching her sleep, wanting to take her in his arms and hold her close. He needed that contact. But he wasn’t selfish enough to wake her. She’d been through an ordeal that would have killed her and their daughter if he and Miguel hadn’t gotten to her in time.
So, much as he longed to tell her how much he loved her and how awed he was by her bravery, he stayed beside the bassinet, talking in low tones to Bethany, telling her all the good news he desperately wanted her mother to hear.
“The Light Street Detective Agency came through for us,’’ he said. “Randolph Security turned the Logan case over to them, with Hunter working as a liaison to one of their new partners, Hannah Dawson. She’s really something. One of the best investigators I’ve ever met.
“Thanks to her, Roy Logan’s in jail. And so are the members of the Las Vegas syndicate—the ones Logan didn’t knock off. It was the syndicate that raided Tim Francetti’s office, stole his records and had him killed. The Denver police have proof of that now. So we’re in the clear.
“Marbella was the head of the organization. He kept up a lily-white front, but he and his buddies were the ones who had Colin killed, too, because his L.A. drug connection would have contaminated their squeaky-clean operation—and the Nevada Gambling Commission might not have given them a license. So when Uncle Bud came to them trying to trade you and your mom for their safety, they thanked him for the information—then got rid of him, too.’’
He swallowed hard. “But the best news of all is about you.’’
“What?’’
It was Amanda who had spoken, of course, and Matt’s head whipped around. His heartbeat quickened when he saw that his wife was awake. Her eyes softened as they focused on him and Bethany.
“How long have you been playing possum?’’ he asked, carefully pushing the baby’s bed so that he maintained the contact with his daughter while he moved closer to his wife.
“I woke up when you started talking to her.’’
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.’’
“I know. But I don’t mind. I got to hear the news report.’’
“All good news.’’
“Yes.’’ She reached out a hand, and he linked his fingers with hers, so that he was holding on to the two people who mattered most to him in the world—the two people he had almost lost. Moisture stung his eyes, and he blinked to clear his vision.
“You said the best part was about Bethany?’’
Matt cleared his throat. “First of all, she’s fine. And second, she’s not Colin’s child.’’
Amanda’s face held a mixture of relief—and skepticism. “How could that be true? How do you know?’’
He began enumerating the facts he’d been bursting to tell her. “Colin’s blood type was A positive. We got that from the records of the Highton clinic. The hospital did blood work on you and Bethany after they admitted you. Your blood type is O positive. Hers is AB positive.’’ He felt his throat tighten painfully. “Like mine,’’ he finished.
Amanda stared at him. “Like yours,’’ she repeated softly, her features suffused with wonder.
“Yeah. So she can’t be Colin’s. Francetti made a mistake. Or he made it up, so he could offer you and Bethany to Logan.’’
“Oh, my God,’’ she breathed, her eyes shifting to the baby, who must have sensed that her mama and papa were talking about her, because she stirred, turned her head and started to cry.
“I think she’s hungry. Would you give her to me?’’ Amanda asked.
Matt carefully lifted the tiny bundle from the bassinet and placed her in his wife’s arms.
“Can you crank up the bed a little?’’ she requested.
He complied, then watched Amanda open the front of her gown, and lift the baby to her breast. After a few moments Bethany found her mother’s nipple and began to suckle.
Matt moved closer, awed by the connection between mother and child—so simple yet so complicated.
“She knows how to do it,’’ he whispered.
“Our daughter is a smart little girl.’’
“Our daughter,’’ he repeated. “I can still hardy believe it. AB is the rarest blood type. And hers, too.’’
“I’m glad,’’ Amanda answered, holding out her free arm. “Come up here and hold me.’’
“Do you think it’s allowed?’’
“I think I earned the right to have my husband’s arm around me.’’
“God, yes!’’ he answered, easing onto the bed beside her and cradling her close, stroking his lips against her cheek as she nursed the baby. “I’m in awe of you.’’
“It’s not that hard to nurse a baby.’’
“I’m talking about holding off an invading army.’’
“I think I had a little help.’’
“Don’t be modest, sweetheart.’’ He let his fingers slide through her beautiful blond hair. “I love you,’’ he murmured. “Have I told you that recently?’’
She snuggled against him. “You can tell me anytime you want. As long as you’re willing to keep hearing the same thing from me. Matt, I love you so much.’’
He felt his eyes mist again and struggled to get control of his emotions, aware again of how much this woman had given him—of how much he needed her and their child. Without them, he’d been living only half a life.
She turned her head toward him. “Is everything you said really true? Are we safe?’’
“It’s all true!’’ He laughed. “And Randolph Security has been holding my back pay, so we can use it for a down payment on a house outside of Baltimore. All the Light Street women are chomping at the bit, waiting to meet the woman who snared the notorious bachelor, Matt Forester. They’ve already started organizing a baby shower. And Hannah Dawson, the P.I. who worked on the case, is anxious to fill you in on the details of the investigation.’’ He stopped, realizing that he was babbling. “I mean…I guess I’m getting ahead of myself,’’ he amended. “We never talked about where we’re going to live—whether you want to go back to the ranch.’’
“I want to live in Baltimore, where your work is,’’ she answered promptly. “Where your friends are. You’ve told me so much about them, I feel like I know them already. I’m going to sell the ranch. Then we’ll have enough money for an estate. Unless you’re too macho to let your wife help out with the finances,’’ she amended.
“I’m not too macho.’’ He swallowed. “But do you really want to sell the property that’s been in your family for generations?’’
“Living with you convinced me I don’t want to go back to Crowfoot. I want to be where it’s convenient for you. Because I can be happy anywhere. She looked down at the child nursing at her breast, then back at Matt. “Being Bethany’s mom and your wife, making a home for the two of you…’’ She paused, and her voice softened. “And…and maybe a sister or brother for her.’’
“I’d like that,’’ he answered.
“One more or two?’’
“You’re ready to go through that again?’’ he asked remembering the agony on her face when he’d burst into the shelter and then when Miguel had turned Bethany so he could deliver her.
“No.’’ She managed a small laugh that ended in a wince of pain. “I figure nothing can top that. A nice normal delivery in a hospital will be a piece of cake.’’
“Oh, yeah.’’
“And the next time I think I’m going to have a lot more fun getting pregnant,’’ she whispered, dipping her head.
He crooked his finger under her chin and brought her face back to his. “You can’t be thinking about that.’’
“Well, it’s a little soon…but I know I will be.’’ The flush he loved so much spread across her cheeks. “See what you did? You turned a little virgin country girl into a woman.’’
“My woman.’’ His arm tightened around her.
“Your woman,’’ she agreed. “For as long as you want me.’’
“Forever. Definitely forever,’’ he answered as he tightened his arms around his wife and child, thanking God for the twists of fate that had brought them both into his life.