The Firefighter's Secret Baby

“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.”