Sworn To Protect

Too many.

And, there was never any answer. Never any clear direction as to how she could be all of the things the baby would need.

“You don’t look like you know it,” Ivy replied. She had aged since Jordan’s death; lines that had not been there before bracketed her mouth and fanned out from her eyes. She was a beautiful woman. Strong. Determined. But, losing her son had cost her.

“Like I said, I’m tired. It’s hard to sleep with this one kicking me in the ribs all night.” She patted her belly. No fake smile this time. She was too tired to try.

“I remember those days,” Ivy said with a soft smile. “Jordan was especially prone to keeping me up. It’s not surprising that his child is the same.” She reached out and laid her hand on the swell of Katie’s abdomen.

When she pulled away, there were tears in her eyes. “He would have loved this.”

“Yes, he would have.”

“And, he would have been a great father. He was always so good with children.”

“The kids at school loved him,” Katie agreed.

Jordan had been born and raised in Queens, and he had had a passion for mentoring the youth there. He had often visited schools with his K-9 partner, Snapper. He had also taught self-defense classes at the local YMCA. He had been Katie’s instructor when she had moved to New York and taken a self-defense class. Just in case.

A year later, he had visited the school where she was teaching. They’d bumped into each other in the hall. The rest had happened fast. Long conversations. Walks in the park. Jokes. Laughter.

Love.

Marriage.

They should have had their happily-ever-after.

Instead, Katie was alone. Getting ready to give birth to their baby.

“I wish I’d asked the nurse to bring me something to drink,” she murmured, her throat tight with emotion.

“They have water in the waiting room. And, coffee. Would you like me to bring you something?” Ivy offered.

“Would you mind? I’d love a cup of water.”

“Of course, I don’t mind. Should you stay here alone, though? The boys would have my head if they thought I’d left you unattended even for a minute.”

“I’ll be fine, Ivy,” Katie assured her. “Don’t worry. You’ll be back in five seconds.”

Ivy looked unsure, but then stood and hurried from the room.

Just as Katie had hoped she would. She didn’t want to talk about Jordan. Not now. Not when she felt exhausted and emotional. She wanted to keep focused on the birthing plan, on staying safe, on making sure she did what her brothers-in-law and the police asked her to. Since Martin’s escape, the Jameson brothers had been escorting her almost everywhere. Today, though, they were attending a training seminar in Manhattan. They’d asked fellow K-9 officer Tony Knight to run patrols past the medical clinic. They’d told her to be careful and aware. To stay close to their mother. To listen to her gut.

Right now, her gut was saying she was exhausted. That she needed to sleep. That she didn’t want to think about the danger or the tragedy.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she called, bracing herself for the meeting with Dr. Ritter.

The door swung open and a man in a white lab coat stepped in, holding her chart close to his face.

Only, he was not the doctor she was expecting.

Dr. Ritter was in his early sixties with salt-and-pepper hair and enough extra weight to fill out his lab coat. The doctor who was moving toward her had dark hair and a muscular build. His scuffed shoes and baggy lab coat made her wonder if he were a resident at the hospital where she would be giving birth.

“Good morning,” she said, feeling unsettled. She had been meeting with Dr. Ritter since the beginning of the pregnancy. He understood her feelings about the birth. He probably suspected a lot of the fear and trepidation she tried to hide. She never had to say much at her appointments, and that was the way she liked it. Talking about the fact that Jordan wouldn’t be around for his daughter’s birth, her childhood, her life always brought Katie close to the tears she despised.

“Morning,” he mumbled.

She could see his forehead and his brows but not much else. That seemed strange. Usually, doctors looked up from the charts when they entered the exam rooms.

“Is Dr. Ritter running late?” she asked, uneasiness joining the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“He won’t be able to make it,” the man said, lowering the charts and grinning.

She went cold with terror.

She knew the hazel eyes, the lopsided grin, the high forehead. “Martin,” she stammered, jumping to her feet.

“Sorry it took me so long to get to you, sweetheart. I had to watch from a distance until I was certain we could be alone.”

“Watch?” she repeated.

“They wanted to keep me in the hospital, but our love is too strong to be denied. I escaped for you. For us. And, I’ve been so close to you these past few weeks. It’s been torture.” He lifted a hand, and if she had not jerked back, his fingers would have brushed her cheek.

He scowled. “Have they brainwashed you? Have they turned you against me?”

“You did that yourself when you murdered my husband,” she responded and regretted it immediately.

He grabbed her arm and dragged her the few feet to his side. “We’re leaving here, Katie. We’re going to a quiet place where we can be together.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she replied, trying to yank her arm away, but his grip was firm, his fingers digging through the soft knit fabric of her sweater.

“Katie? I brought juice and water.” Ivy appeared in the doorway, a paper cup in each hand.

Her eyes widened as she saw Martin, her gaze dropping to his hand, then jumping to Katie’s face. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Martin responded, pulling a gun from beneath the lab coat.

The cups dropped from Ivy’s hands, water and juice spilling onto the tile floor, her screams spilling into the hall.

“Shut up!” Martin screamed, yanking Katie forward as he slammed the butt of the gun into the side of Ivy’s head. She went down hard, her body limp, eyes closed.

Katie clawed at Martin’s hand, trying to free herself and get to her mother-in-law. She had taken self-defense classes. She should know how to do this, but panic and pregnancy made her movements clumsy and slow.

“Stop!” he said. One word. Uttered with cold deliberation. The barrel was suddenly pressed into her stomach. She could feel the baby wiggling and turning.

She froze.