The Firefighter's Secret Baby

The body was covered in voluminous, bloodstained material. White cotton. Arms and legs, neither noticeably broken. The victim was lying on her side. Seat belt clipped into place and still attached. Sandals. One still on, the other lying close enough for Randy to reach.

“It’s a woman.” He cleared the delicate shoe from the field, along with whatever debris he could, transferring them down to waiting hands.

From the size of the body curled in on itself, the victim appeared larger than average weight. Except large didn’t jibe with the slender ankles and calves and arms and wrists he could see better as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. She groaned and shifted, rolling off her side. The car objected, rocking against the stabilization his men had added from the outside.

“Hold still, miss.” Randy kept his voice reassuring. It was good that she could move. There wasn’t as much blood as he’d originally thought. But—“You could have a spinal injury. There’s glass and metal everywhere, and—”

She settled onto her back, still out of it, probably not hearing a word he said. But her protruding belly spoke loud and clear.

“Holy hell, she’s pregnant!” He stretched his arm as far inside as he could, but he couldn’t reach her. “Third trimester, if I had to guess.”

In response to his raised voice, the victim’s head gave an agitated jerk. Her features stayed hidden from him by a wealth of dark hair.

“Ma’am, where do you hurt?” He stared at the way her hands were gripping her stomach. “Are you in labor? Ma’am, can you hear me?”

Randy controlled the instinct to push deeper inside. Forcing a tenuous position would only put his victim at more risk. But a mother in danger—nothing got to Randy faster.

And this mother…

Something about her seemed familiar, even if he couldn’t put his finger on what. He fought the urge to rip his way into the wreck. He forced himself to scan the parts of her body he could see, looking for anything he’d missed. Hair raised on the back of his neck.

His subconscious was trying to tell him something.

What?

“Ah!” the woman cried out, louder than before. “Help me…”

Randy’s trained gaze catalogued each potential injury. It tracked up her torso and arms and shoulders, over the ebony hair framing the face that was finally uncovered.

A lover’s face, not a stranger’s.

“Oh, my God. Sam?” Randy’s focus jerked back to her swollen belly. He’d last seen her in his hotel-room bed in Savannah nine months ago…. “Oh, my God.”

CHAPTER TWO

SAM TRIED TO RUN. She wouldn’t give up. She had to keep fighting, even though a part of her knew that she couldn’t move. There was something precious she had to save. A miracle she wouldn’t let go of.

What was it…

And there was that voice again. The one from her dreams.

She’d run from the voice before, back to the U.S. marshal in charge of her protection. She’d pulled herself together and regrouped. Hidden the memories of her lover and her reckless weekend in Savannah, so she could start over. Again. But the voice…It was so close now. Which meant so was the danger. The men chasing her. Had they found her?

“Sam?” the voice asked. “Can you hear me?”

No! her mind screamed.

Her name wasn’t Sam anymore. Sam was being hunted. She couldn’t be found. Not even in her dreams.

What was her name now?

“Robyn…” she insisted. “I’m Robyn Nobles.”

Two years ago, Sam Gianfranco had left behind everything and everyone she knew. Even her baby sister. It had been the only way.

Except Sam had caved and called Gabriella that morning, before her security could tighten and she lost her chance. Her teenage sister had cried at the sound of Sam’s voice. She’d begged Sam to come home. Too bad Gabby hadn’t been the only one listening on the line.

They’d found Sam so quickly. One TV program. One phone call. One strange car parked outside her apartment…

Pain low in her belly jerked her away from the memories. Where was she? What had happened?

“My baby. Please, save my baby!”

“Sam?” the voice asked.

Her dreams had tormented her with that voice, night after night. She wanted Savannah back so badly. She wanted the precious life they’d created, more than she’d ever let herself want anything. She had to wake up! She had to keep fighting. Keep running.

“Get away from me,” she whispered, terrified.

“Try to relax,” the voice coaxed. “Trust me. We’ll help your baby. We’ll get you both out of this. Tell me where you hurt.”

“Leave me alone!”

She tried to make her eyes open. To move.

Pain sliced through her. Reality came into blurry focus. She was lying on what used to be the side of her car, pinned against the shattered window. Totally helpless. Except she’d be damned if she’d just give up. Not while she could feel her daughter moving inside her again, fighting to live.

“You bastards,” she gasped as another contraction took hold. “I won’t let you hurt my baby. I’ll kill you first.”

Rage cleared her vision. But what she saw as she gazed up convinced her that she was still delirious. Because the face looking down at her belonged in her dream. Her baby’s father was wearing a fire rescue uniform, not the metal band T-shirt he’d looked so sexy in on Savannah’s River Street.

Was it real? His voice. Her terrifying need to trust him…

“Hold still, baby,” he cautioned. “No one’s going to hurt you. But you’ve gotta hold still, for your and the baby’s sake.”

“It—” The next contraction cut her in two. So did the concern in his gaze. “This isn’t possible. You can’t be—”

“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!”