The Firefighter's Secret Baby

“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.