4:00 p.m.
Grady prowled in front of the picture window, turmoil eating him alive. Sabrina had been in the kitchen for fifteen minutes—pre-tending she wasn’t crying. All he heard was scrubbing noises and water running in the sink, but he’d seen her eyes well up before she’d mumbled an excuse about cleaning and retreated.
Every teardrop fired a bullet into his heart.
He’d spilled his guts. They’d thrown their cards on the table. He should feel relieved. Instead, he feared he’d made the second-worst mistake of his life.
Dammit. He slammed his fists against the window, looked down at the city spread far below…and froze. What the—The building’s height and thick insulation blocked outside noise, and he stared down at a silent hell.
Riverside had gone insane.
Cars clogged the streets, people jammed the sidewalks and every bridge and overpass spanning the Willamette—except the top deck of the Madison Overpass, which was under construction—was stacked with bumper-to-bumper traffic. “Sabrina!” He lunged for the TV. “Get out here!”
He turned the television on as she hurried in. He jerked his gaze from her pink-tipped nose and damp, spiky lashes. He’d made her cry more during the past twenty-four hours than in his entire lifetime.
His throat tightened. But then, only Sabrina knew how many tears he’d caused her in the past.
“What’s going on?”
“Look at the city.”
She peered out the window. “Holy cats!”
On the TV screen, the local anchorman sat stiffly at his desk, his face grave. Grady cranked up the volume. “Some grocery stores are experiencing outages of bottled water and food staples. Please, as we’ve been repeating, do not attempt to travel and block roadways needed by emergency personnel. U.S. borders are closed, and all air traffic is grounded. The president and secretary of defense have assured us there’s no need for panic.”
Grady scowled. “And if you believe that…just honk.”
The grim news continued. “The Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta reports that small outbreaks of the mystery illness in Philadelphia, Houston, Denver and Riverside are under control, and the public is not at risk.”
Grady’s gut clenched, and he swore.
Sabrina gasped. “V-10 is in the population, nationwide! Do you think it is a terrorist attack?”
The anchorman shuffled papers. “Our elected officials in Washington, D.C., are safely sequestered and working to deliver a quick resolution. We’re told representatives of Serpens Pharmaceutical Corporation have been aware of this illness for some time and were awarded a federal grant to develop a vaccine.”
Grady turned to Sabrina. “It appears we have our answer.”
He tugged his buzzing TCU from his pants pocket. The call was from Con’s cell phone. Aidan would have passed the V-10 intel on to Con and Liam when the news hit the fan. “Yo, Con.”
“Grady.” Intensity edged his brother’s low, even tone. “I need your help.”
What had happened? Grady’s fingers tightened on the plastic casing. “You got it.”
“Bailey’s in labor. Mass pandemonium erupted on the way to the hospital and we’re trapped on the Madison Overpass. EMS can’t reach us.” Con’s words were calm, but anxiety thrummed in his voice “You’ve delivered babies. You have to get here.”
“Has Bailey’s water broken?” Grady was already shrugging on his leather jacket. Eyes huge, Sabrina spun, and he motioned her to follow. He yanked Zoe’s leather coat from the entry closet on the way out the door.
“Yes, an hour ago.”
He locked the door and they sprinted for the elevator. “How far apart are the contractions?”
“Four point six minutes.”
Leave it to Con to be exact. “Lay her down in the backseat on her left side. Keep her breathing on track.” As the floors flashed downward, he tossed Zoe’s jacket to Sabrina, gesturing for her to put it on. “Everything will be fine, even if I have to talk you through the delivery.” Several years ago, Grady had phone-coached Con through a birth during a hostage crisis. “We’ve done it before.”
“It wasn’t my wife and baby before!” Con inhaled rapidly, and his voice leveled again. “I need you. Here.”
“I’m already in transit.” The elevator opened, and he and Sabrina strode into the parking garage. “Give me your exact 20.”
“Center level of the overpass, a quarter of a mile past exit seventeen. Jammed between a million other stalled vehicles. We’re in Bailey’s new car, a champagne Camry.”
“ETA is less than thirty minutes. If anything changes, call. Hang tight, bro.” He disconnected and shoved his TCU into his jacket.
Sabrina panted beside him as he jogged past rows of parked cars. “No way will we get through that traffic.”
“There’s always a way.” He stopped beside Aidan’s black Ducati, pitched Zoe’s helmet to Sabrina and then tugged on Aidan’s.
He slung his leg over the motorcycle’s seat, and Sabrina clambered on behind. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Somehow, I doubt a note is going to cover this one.”
“Good thing drawing and quartering is illegal in this century.” Grady thrust in the key, kick-started the engine, and the bike roared to life. “Hang on. It’s gonna be a helluva trip.”
He gunned the motor, sped out of the parking structure and into nightmare traffic. Speeding on both sides of the road, he wound through car-choked streets. Until he hit an intersection blocked by a city bus on one side and a delivery truck on the other.
“Screw this.” He leaned on the horn, rocketed the bike over the curb and zigzagged down the crowded sidewalk. Pedestrians scrambled out of his way, tossing him startled looks, curses and, in a few cases, the bird.
“Yee, haw!” Grady swerved to miss a tree, then a mailbox and barreled past an outdoor café. He darted around a movie marquee by a razor’s edge, and veered through a street market, skimming between crated produce and a steel lamppost.
The powerful engine growled beneath him, wind slapped his face and adrenaline glittered through his veins in an intoxicating rush. “Damn, this is fun!”
Sabrina shrieked. Her arms clamped around him in a strangle-hold and she buried her face, helmet and all, in his back. “Yet you think commitment is scary!”
Yeah. Broken bones healed. And didn’t cause one-tenth the pain of a broken heart.
After a wild, exhilarating ride, they pulled into the lot outside Mercy Hospital’s emergency entrance. Every space was filled, many vehicles double-parked. Grady propped the Ducati in a flower bed. Grabbing Sabrina’s hand, he dodged an influx of people as he ran for the door.
“Why are we at the hospital without the parents-to-be?”
“No sidewalks on the overpass. Besides, we can’t transport Bailey and the baby on a bike.”
“Then what are we—” She groaned. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.” He skirted the ER, which was stuffed with panicked citizens. Every resident within a hundred miles suffering from an earache or sniffles was pouring in, afraid they were infected.
A throng surrounded the bank of elevators and Grady pulled rank. “Police emergency, coming through!”
The crowd parted. As the elevator bell dinged and the doors opened, three skinhead punk wannabes wearing tough-guy clothes and jittery expressions blocked his path. The front man flashed a gang sign. “We been waitin’ on this car forever, yo. Y’all’s don’t look like no heat.”
The doors were already closing, and waiting on another elevator would waste precious minutes. Grady whipped out his Glock. “This hot enough for ya, Eminem?”
“No hassle, man.” Palms up, the trio retreated, and the leader cocked his veed index and middle fingers. “Peace out.”
Grady steered Sabrina behind him and backed onto the elevator, keeping his gaze, and his weapon, trained on the punks. Nobody else got into the car.
The doors slid shut, and Grady shoved the gun into his waistband.
Sabrina’s gilded brows arched. “Dramatic much?”
“We don’t have time for tweaker crap.”
On the rooftop, they raced to the chopper. Grady buckled Sabrina in, then tore around and jumped inside. He donned headphones, tossed Sabrina a pair. Thank all the saints, medical distress calls rated precedence from air traffic control. He performed pre-flight in record time, throttled up, pulled pitch and the chopper leaped skyward.
The sky buzzed with aircraft. A Cessna 152 shot into his peripheral vision and banked too sharply to his left. “Dammit!”
Grady cranked and yanked, and Sabrina’s gasp echoed in his earphones. “Yikes! That was close!”
“Every news organization in the city is jamming airspace.” He’d rather fly rotor-to-rotor with gunships in a firefight than jockey through a fleet of vultures hell-bent on five-o’clock exclusives.
When the massive concrete overpass came into view, Sabrina shifted. “Um…Grady?” She stared at the gridlock far below. “Where are we going to land?”
He pointed. “In the only traffic-free zone in a sixty-mile radius.”
“It looks awfully…narrow.” She swallowed. “Ah…what about construction workers?”
He looked down at the jagged, half-finished Madison Overpass jutting over the Willamette River. “If any workers hung around after hearing the news broadcasts, they’ll move. People tend to haul ass when they see a three-ton whirlybird coming down.”
She moaned. “I can’t watch.”
“Piece of—”
She flung up her hand. “If you even mention food, your leather upholstery will become an endangered species.”
He chuckled as he maneuvered through strong crosswinds buffeting the river. The challenge was almost enough to make him forget what had happened between them earlier.
His humor fled.
Almost.
The skids kissed concrete, and Sabrina eased one eyelid open. “Are we…alive?”
“So far.”
She glanced around. “How do we get to Con and Bailey?”
Grady shut down the engine. “We’re gonna rappel over the side of the bridge.”
“No, seriously—” She stared as he yanked on his gloves. “You are serious.”
“As a major myocardial infarction.” He handed her a pair of gloves. “If the scenario goes FUBAR, I’ll need someone with a cool head and medical training.”
They climbed out of the chopper. River-driven wind shoved at Grady’s back as he uncoiled rappel cables and donned his harness and a backpack of medical supplies. When he buckled a harness on Sabrina, she was shaking. “Cold or scared?”
“B-both.”
“I’ve done this hundreds of times. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He drew her close. “Trust me, Sabrina.”
Her eyes locked on his, and the absolute faith in the glowing brown depths made his heart stumble. “I always have.”
“You won’t be on your own. We’re going to tandem rappel.” He steered her to the edge of the overpass and clipped their harnesses into the cable. “Remember, Bailey’s life—and the baby’s—are on the line.”
Sabrina’s chin firmed. “You can count on me.”
Grady couldn’t stop himself from planting a quick kiss on her luscious mouth. “I always have.”
He boosted her onto the ledge and climbed up beside her. Trembling violently, she stared at the choppy green waves far below. He cupped her cheek and brought her gaze back to his. “Wrap yourself around me and hold on tight. Our weight will make the descent fast, and it’ll feel like we’re free-falling. No matter what happens, don’t panic. And don’t let go of me, because you’ll skew us off balance. Got it?”
“Don’t worry.” She nodded slowly. “I’m not about to let go of you.”
“I won’t let you fall, Sabrina.” Braking arm braced on the taut cable, boots braced against the concrete railing, he suspended them backward over the precipice. “Ready?”
“Oh God.” She inhaled. “As I ever will be.”
“Rappelling.” He dropped over the edge. Sabrina gasped and tightened her grip. Even weighted by the sobering responsibility for her safety, hurtling through space at breakneck speed over open water sent a thrill up his spine.
At the middle tier of the overpass, he braked hard, letting their momentum and the wind rock them toward the ledge. “Nearly there,” he said into Sabrina’s ear. “We have to swing a little.” When his boots touched the railing again, he pushed off.
They swung out over the river, then back, soaring in perfect tandem. Sabrina’s arms clung around his neck, her legs around his waist, her body intimately plastered to him. Her heartbeats galloped against his chest, her warm, rapid breaths tingled down his neck. The rush was almost as exhilarating as their interlude in the closet.
Almost.
The third arc swung them over the railing into the overpass and he released more cable. His boots scraped asphalt, hit solid ground. He rubbed Sabrina’s back, then surrendered to the temptation to pat her bottom. “You can turn me loose, now, honey.”
She shakily gained her feet and looked at him. “You. Are. Irredeemable.” But she smiled.
Grinning, he unhooked the cable and looked over at dozens of astonished gazes staring at them from gridlocked vehicles. “Tell me that didn’t give you a tingle.”
Her smile widened into a sparkling grin. “Maybe…one.”
“Well, all right, then.” He stripped off his gloves, stuffed them in his pocket. “Corruption has to start somewhere.”
Con and Bailey were six car lengths ahead. Grady opened the back door of their Camry. “Somebody here order a pizza?”
Con was sitting against the opposite door, cradling Bailey with his body. She was propped on her left side, with her cheek against Con’s chest. His brother smirked, but relieved gratitude warmed some of the worry from his dark brown eyes. “Extra sauce, hold the ham. Quite an entrance, bro.”
“Guaranteed to arrive in less than thirty minutes, or it’s free.” Grady shrugged off the backpack and passed it to Sabrina so he could climb into the car. “Hey, Bailey. It’s a beautiful day for a birthday party. A Gemini baby, just like Uncle Grady.”
His sister-in-law’s heart-shaped face was flushed, and damp strawberry-blond curls stuck to her temples. Her blue sundress clung to her body, the fabric limp with perspiration. She smiled at him. “Heaven help us.”
He motioned for Sabrina to get into the front seat with the backpack. “I’m going to take your vitals.” He took Bailey’s pulse. “How are you doing?”
“All right, considering,” she replied. “But I’d rather not give birth in my brand-new car.”
Grady accepted the blood pressure monitor from Sabrina, strapped the cuff around Bailey’s upper arm and pumped. “Seems my niece or nephew has an independent agenda. I warned you about O’Rourke genes.” He listened through the stethoscope Sabrina handed him, released the air and read the dial. And wasn’t reassured.
Keeping his expression neutral, he looked at Con. “How far apart are the contractions?”
“Three point four minutes.”
Bailey gasped. “Here comes another one.”
Grady placed his palm on her abdomen to gauge the strength of the contraction.
“Uh! I have to push!”
“Don’t,” he instructed. “The baby is too high up, and we don’t know how dilated you are yet. Don’t push.” He waited while Con helped his wife breathe through the pain.
“Good teamwork, guys.” He gently palpated her distended abdomen. Something wasn’t right. “Bailey, can you turn on your back for me?”
She complied, and he rechecked the contours beneath his hand. His fears confirmed, his mouth went dry. Dammit! Not here. Not now. His glance snagged on Sabrina’s and her eyes narrowed. She always had been able to read him too easily.
“I need to touch base with your doctor. It’s SOP. Be right back.” Avoiding the sudden alarmed questions that sprang into his brother’s face, he patted Bailey’s hand. “You’re doing great. When the next contraction hits, don’t push.”
Grady stalked to the rear of the car and kept going until he was out of Con’s visual range before tugging out his TCU. He couldn’t get through to the hospital. He couldn’t raise an operator to attempt to break into the line. And 911 was looping a recorded message that the system was overloaded. He swore viciously.
“What’s wrong?” Sabrina asked from behind him.
“Bailey’s BP is spiking, and the baby is breech. I can’t reach a doctor to coach me. It’s just me. Me!”
She touched his arm. “I’m here, Grady.”
He whirled. “Dammit all to hell! I can’t do this!”
“Take it easy. You’ve delivered other babies.”
“Not a breech birth, especially with complications!” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Not my brother’s child. A baby that shares my family’s heritage, my blood. A baby that’s too close to my heart.” Grady swallowed hard. “Bailey needs a cesarean. We’re in the middle of the freeway. No doctor, no ambulance, minimal equipment—”
“We’ll manage.”
“If I let my brother’s wife or child die—” he choked.
“They are not going to die.” Sabrina grabbed his upper arms. “I have faith in you. Con and Bailey have faith in you. You are the ace of improvisation.” She shook him, hard. “You can do this! Now get your ass back to the car and handle it!”
Sabrina’s confidence was a slap of cold water, dousing the inferno of fear. Gulping deep breaths, he sprinted to the Camry.
Con was paler and sweating more profusely than his wife. “Grady…” His lips trembled and he clamped his teeth together. “What the f—”
“Your son or daughter threw us a curve ball. The baby is breech…which calls for a new game plan.” Grady explained what was about to happen. “Bailey, I know it’s really tough, but you cannot push. Just pant through the contractions, understand?”
Fear glimmered beneath the surface, but her mouth firmed. “Absolutely.”
“If—” Con swallowed hard. “Grady, are you positive—”
“A hundred percent. We have no other choice.” Grady looked at Sabrina, waiting for him outside the car. Then he held Con’s gaze, offered a silent vow. I know, brother. I know what you’re terrified you’ll lose. And I’ll give my life to ensure it doesn’t happen. “I promise, I will get you through this.”
He rested his palm on Bailey’s abdomen and leaned down. “Hey, kiddo, this is your uncle Grady. If you’ll please wait thirty minutes to arrive at the party, I’ll buy you a Ferrari.”
The baby kicked beneath his hand, and Grady smiled in spite of his anxiety. “Deal.”
He jogged back to the edge of the overpass, yanked on his gloves and clipped his harness into the cable.
Sabrina blew him a kiss. “Be careful.”
“Keep them calm, and keep Bailey from pushing.”
“I will.”
“I know you will.” He saluted her, pushed off and climbed back up to the helicopter.
When he reached the chopper, he hovered it above the bridge and sent down the rescue basket on its reinforced cable. Grady couldn’t fly and attend to Bailey. He couldn’t leave Sabrina unprotected on the freeway. And Bailey was going into surgery and needed her husband at the hospital to make decisions if she couldn’t. He had to scoop up all three.
A quick call between cell phones confirmed Sabrina was aboard the rescue basket and he winched her up. He pulled up Bailey next, and while Sabrina was settling Bailey in the back of the chopper, he retrieved Con.
Then he flew like never before. Grady listened in his headphones as his brother and Sabrina gave Bailey calm, focused support. It was the longest fourteen minutes in history.
He had aircraft control override Mercy’s communication system and radio ahead, and the instant the chopper settled on the helipad, a trauma team rushed out with a gurney.
They crowded into the elevator, he recited Bailey’s stats to the OB nurse and then he and Sabrina ran behind them to the surgical floor.
The big double doors swung shut behind his brother and Bailey. And then all Grady could do was wait.
And pray.
Stomach churning, he stalked to the window. Had he gotten them there in time?
Sabrina followed. “You okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not the one having the baby.” He’d been shot, knifed and had taken shrapnel from a rogue grenade…but damn…he’d delivered enough babies to know if given a choice, he’d never put himself through that hell.
“C-sections go pretty fast, but I’d like to check in on Dalton while we’re waiting.”
“No problem.” Given the situation, he couldn’t resent her concern. “Phone the nurses’ station and ask.”
She placed the call, then hung up, frowning. “Only family is allowed.”
“I’m sorry, Sabrina. I know you care about him.”
Moisture flooded her eyes. “I just can’t bear the thought…”
“Don’t.” He pulled her into a hug. “It won’t help him or you.”
She rubbed her cheek on his chest, melting his heart. He should resist touching her. But he couldn’t.
All too soon he’d never touch her again.
Avoiding crowded waiting rooms, they walked the halls, detouring downstairs to the cafeteria. Sabrina got coffee. Grady’s stomach was too jumpy.
When they returned to the surgical floor, he consulted his watch, and anxiety crawled up his spine. Almost two hours. They should have heard by now.
Sabrina peeked into the waiting room as they passed again. “Grady! Zoe’s on TV!”
They hurried inside.
“This is Zoe Zagretti, with an exclusive live report from Ethan Burke’s vacation home on Mt. Hood.” Zoe used her maiden name on camera to protect her and Aidan’s privacy.
The camera panned back to show a spacious lodge living room. Ethan Burke, a charismatic, fortyish politician, sat on a leather sofa beside his polished, blond wife and seven-year-old son. “The esteemed attorney and high-ranking presidential adviser was in town to chair a regional conference on children’s welfare when the current crisis arose.” Zoe turned to Burke. “Mr. Burke, why have you chosen to remain in Riverside, rather than return to the capital?”
“Riverside is one of the cities affected by this tragedy, and I’m here to offer the cabinet’s full support, with the president’s blessing. We want to assure our citizens the danger is minimal, and my presence proves that.” His steady blue gaze looked directly at the viewers. “Stay off the roadways and remain calm. I’m not running scared, and neither should you.”
“Or maybe the entire city is quarantined,” Grady muttered. “And the president doesn’t want the possibility of infection anywhere near D.C.”
Sabrina elbowed him. “Cynic.”
Burke smiled into the camera. “I’m working closely with the White House, and we’re preparing a press conference to announce the latest developments. We’ll deliver breaking news to you as soon as possible.”
Zoe asked a few more questions, signed off, and then the screen switched to the local news anchors.
Sixty seconds later, Grady’s TCU buzzed with a call from Zoe’s cell phone. He hit the connect button. “Just caught your latest exclusive.”
“There’s a lot more stuff I can’t say on camera…yet. I’m on the move and this has to be fast, so listen up,” Zoe said, rapid-fire. “I touched base with Aidan, and he’s collected statements from other foster parents that jibe with the Purcells’. Three months before Senator Vaughn died, he refused a hefty donation from lobbyists pushing for less restrictions on pharmaceutical research. Guess who didn’t turn them down?”
“Ethan Burke?”
“Nope, not Burke. He raised the banner for children’s causes again after Senator Vaughn died, and he’s been open and cooperative.” Her voice lowered. “It goes much higher. Directly to the vice president. Deeper digging uncovered a major Serpens stock-holder…also the vice president.”
“Then we’re outgunned with money and manpower.”
“Oh, it gets better. Before I went on air, I received a call from a senior agent with Homeland Security. He ordered me to drop the investigation or face arrest.”
“Dammit, Zoe, this is dangerous territory. Be careful.”
She snorted. “Look who’s talking. Gotta go. I’ll call with updates.”
Grady stared at his blank TCU screen as dread filtered through him. He’d once skied down Mt. Hood barely ahead of an avalanche. The ominous, heavy rumbling at his back felt much the same. He steered Sabrina into the corridor and filled her in. “This is getting hairier by the second. I’m gonna call Riverside PD and secure that safe house for you.”
Her eyes flashed amber fire. “While you, Zoe and Aidan endanger your lives? This is my fight…more than any of you. Those monsters killed Lord knows how many defenseless children. They killed a little boy I cared about. Killed my grandfather.”
“Sabrina…”
“No! My personal safety doesn’t mean squat when men we’ve elected into office—men who are supposed to represent ‘We the People’—are getting away with murder!” She stabbed his chest with her index finger. “I don’t care how powerful they are. We have truth, right and good old American justice on our side.” Her eyes blazed, her cheeks flushed and her body trembled. “Dirty money and dirtier politicians can bite us!”
Grady’s hands fisted against the urge to grab her and kiss her speechless. Damn, he loved it when Sabrina got fired up with righteous fury.
He loved her loyalty. Loved her fearless dedication to truth and fairness. Loved her intelligence, humor and the soft vulnerability she revealed only to him.
The breath slammed out of him.
He loved her.
He’d known he loved her. Had always known. He’d just never acknowledged his feelings. Never given them form, or voice.
Sabrina had been dead-on accurate…he hadn’t run only to protect her.
Grady stared at the girl he’d known most of his life, at the woman he loved beyond all reason, and his heart turned over. He had a huge decision to make. Did he keep his emotions barricaded and save himself?
Or did he lower his shields, battle his terror and fight the armies of hell for the woman his soul was empty without?