Stranded with the Suspect Page 15

  “I think we’re both still catching up from the past few days,” Simon said. He stood and offered her a hand. “Come on. Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow will be another full day.” He hoped it was the day the Rangers captured Daniel Metwater and Victor.

  She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the lips. “You’re too good to me,” she said.

  “I’m not that good,” he said. Though she certainly made him want to be better.

  She smiled and took his hand. “I’ll be the judge of that, Officer.”

  * * *

  ANDI WOKE WHILE it was still dark, the room cold, though she was warm under the heavy quilts. Her heart pounded, as if she had been running—or awakened in the middle of a nightmare. What had her feeling so panicked? She couldn’t remember.

  She reached out a hand and felt Simon’s solid, warm bulk at her side. Reassurance filled her, and she snuggled back down under the covers and closed her eyes.

  Thump! She opened her eyes, heart racing once more. What was that sound?

  Creeeak. She tried to tell herself the noise was merely the old cabin settling, but instinct told her otherwise. It was as if the air around her had shifted—she was sure there was someone else in the cabin.

  “Simon!” She put her mouth next to his ear, her whisper urgent. “Wake up!”

  “Mmm.” He rolled over and reached for her.

  She pushed against his chest. “Wake up! Someone is in the cabin.”

  He lay still, tensed. There was a sound like something scraping against the floor. Simon sat, pushing back the covers. He took his gun from the nightstand. “Stay here,” he said. Then he slipped out of the room.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Simon eased the door to the bedroom shut behind him, careful not to make a sound. Then he stood still for several minutes, forcing his breathing to slow.

  And he listened. His ears strained to hear anything other than the pounding of his own heart.

  Scrape. The sound of something being dragged across the floor—not in the cabin itself, but outside, on the front porch. It was a sound effect out of a horror movie, and all the more chilling in real life. Slowly, carefully placing each step, Simon moved toward the front window.

  Moonlight illuminated a black-and-white world of snow and shadows. Far to the right of the cabin, in the darkness cast by the building itself, a vehicle hunched—an SUV of some sort, tall and boxy. Footsteps clearly showed in the snow, leading from the vehicle and up the front steps to disappear in the deeper shadows of the porch.

  The scraping noise came again—someone prying at the front window, just on the other side of where Simon stood. He moved to the door, hand on the knob. Opening it would probably make enough racket to announce his presence—though he could still likely catch whoever was out there off guard. If the cabin had a back door, he might try to go out that way and sneak up behind the person on the porch, but the only way out the back was through the bedroom window.

  The scraping continued, followed by a grunt and a wrenching sound as the intruder succeeded in forcing up the window. Time for Simon to make his move. He started to step forward, when a second shadow emerged from the trees at the edge of the driveway. It skirted past the front of the house without stopping, moving swiftly behind the building and out of sight. The figure at the window gave no indication that he had noticed the newcomer. Was this an accomplice, heading around to cover the back of the house?

  This definitely complicated things. It was two against one now, and too much distance separated the intruders for Simon to take them both out at once. He would have to eliminate them one at a time. And he’d need to move quickly.

  He eased open the front door and stepped out onto the porch. “Freeze!” he shouted, aiming both his gun and his flashlight at the shadowy figure.

  Daniel Metwater squinted into the light, one hand to his eyes to shield them. He fired the pistol he carried in his other hand, the bullets tearing into the wood of the door frame as Simon dove for cover behind the firewood stacked at the end of the porch.

  * * *

  ANDI HUDDLED IN BED, covers pulled tightly around her, as the sharp report of bullets shattered the midnight silence. She strained her ears, listening for cries, but heard nothing more. Moonlight poured through the window to her left, illuminating the room’s sparse contents. Her gaze fixed on the bulletproof vest that hung from the bedpost. She should have insisted that Simon put it on before he left the bedroom.

  She should have asked him to give her a gun too, so that she could help defend them. She hated sitting here, helpless.

  All this fretting over what she should have done wasn’t going to help anyone. She eased out of bed and pulled the fur coat over her gown, then sat on the side of the bed to pull on the boots. Maybe they weren’t the most practical footwear for evading bad guys in the wilderness, but they were the only shoes she had with her, and they were warm.

  She winced and rubbed at her lower back, trying to ease the cramp that tightened her muscles. The Braxton Hicks contractions she had been experiencing on and off for the last two months had started up again. Another sign her body was getting ready to deliver her baby, the women in camp had assured her.

  Wait a while longer, little one, she said silently, sending a message to the infant in her womb. Mommy isn’t ready just yet.

  She stood and tiptoed to the bedroom door. Simon had ordered her to stay put, but she had to find out what was going on.

  Another blast of gunfire shook the cabin and she stifled a cry, heart pounding painfully. Frantic, she looked around for anything to use as a weapon. Her mind flashed on the old toolbox her uncle kept under the kitchen sink. There would be something in there—a hammer or a big wrench or something she could use to strike out at an attacker. Something to make her feel less helpless.

  She eased the door open farther and prepared to move into the front room as more shots sounded from the front of the house, coupled with the noise of shattering glass behind her. Disoriented, she turned and stared at the broken glass scattered across the bed and the floor. Had someone shot out the window? Then she saw the rock, as big as a man’s head, that rested in the middle of the bed.

  Right about where she had been sitting only moments before.

  A man’s head and shoulders appeared in the window, and then Victor hoisted himself up over the sill. Andi turned to flee, but he was on her faster than she would have thought possible, his hands holding her roughly.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his lips brushing the top of her head. “You’re mine now, and this time, I’m not going to let you get away.”

  * * *

  FROM BEHIND THE WOODPILE, Simon returned fire, but his shot went wide as Metwater retreated around the corner of the house. Metwater’s accomplice would have been alerted by now. Simon thought if he hadn’t heard Simon’s shout, anyone within a mile would have heard those shots. He hoped Andi had the sense to stay put in the bedroom and not go investigating. He glanced over his shoulder, to make sure no one was moving in behind him, then turned back toward where Metwater had disappeared. “Give up!” he called. “I won’t let you leave here alive.”

  Metwater’s answer was another volley of shots into the woodpile, sending chunks of wood flying. Simon crouched there, his face pressed against the rough logs, the smell of pine mingling with the sting of cordite. He cursed his choice of cover. He should have retreated into the cabin, where he would be closer to Andi. As long as Metwater had ammo, it didn’t matter if he actually hit Simon or not. All he had to do was keep him pinned here while his accomplice got whatever he was after.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that might be. Andi was the only thing in the cabin worth having. Now she would pay for Simon’s poor judgment.

  The best he could hope for was to keep Metwater distracted and look for an opening to get to him. “How did you find us
?” he called.

  “Asteria used to talk about this cabin,” Metwater said, using the name he had given Andi. “She even talked about bringing me here to visit someday. I knew she wouldn’t get this close without stopping by.”

  “Why are you here?” Simon asked. “What do you want?”

  “I want Asteria.”

  “Why?”

  “She has something that belongs to me.”

  “What’s that?” Was he talking about the necklace, or the key inside it or something else entirely?

  “I’m tired of talking. Send her out and I’ll let you go.”

  “Never.” He emphasized his point by aiming where he thought Metwater’s head might be and firing.

  “He’s not the one you need to deal with now.” The Russian’s accent revealed his identity even before Simon turned to see him step from the side of the house. He had one arm around Andi, who was wrapped in the fur coat, wearing her boots. At least Victor had allowed her to dress before bringing her out in the cold.

  In the other hand, Victor held a small pistol, the barrel of it pressed to Andi’s temple. “Either of you make a move, I’ll kill her,” he said. “Now throw out your guns.”

  “Go ahead and shoot her,” Metwater said. “It will save me the trouble.”

  Andi flinched. Victor pulled her more tightly against him. “Now the question I ask myself is—are you serious, or are you bluffing?” he said. Andi didn’t make a sound, though her gaze remained fixed on Simon, pleading, her face paper white in the moonlight, eyes huge and dark.

  Sweat slicked Simon’s hand as he tightened his grip on his gun.

  “Don’t even think about it, Officer,” Victor barked. “Drop your weapon. Now!”

  Simon tossed the gun onto the porch. It bounced on the floorboard, then skidded to rest against one of the posts.

  “Your turn.” Victor addressed Metwater.

  Metwater fired, at the same time Andi brought her foot down hard on Victor’s instep, driving the stiletto heel of her boot into the top of his foot. With a roar of rage, he grappled to hold her, but she lunged free.

  Simon dove for his gun and came up firing. But Victor had already retreated behind the SUV. Andi had disappeared—Simon hoped somewhere well out of the range of gunfire. He had taken cover behind a large pine tree, halfway between the cabin and the SUV. He was safe for now, but trapped between his two opponents. He leaned against the tree, trying to catch his breath, the cold seeping through his clothes as he listened for sounds of movement from Metwater or Victor.

  It was too quiet. Simon worried one of the men—or both—had left and gone after Andi. He focused on the side of the cabin where Metwater had been, unable to detect any movement in the dim light. Somewhere nearby, an engine roared to life. Lights flared on, and a vehicle pulled from the trees farther up the driveway.

  “My car!” Victor shouted. He climbed into the SUV and started the engine. Simon aimed for the vehicle, but he only managed a single shot before Victor sped down the driveway.

  The rumble of engines and crunch of tires on gravel and snow faded, leaving a ringing silence. Simon stepped out from behind the tree. “Andi!” he shouted.

  “I’m right here.” She emerged from behind the outhouse.

  Simon ran to her and she fell into his arms. He held her tightly for a long moment, unable to speak.

  “What happened?” she asked after a long moment.

  “They came in two separate cars. Victor left his parked up by the road—probably with the keys in it so he could make a quick getaway if he had to. Metwater’s SUV was in the driveway. He took Victor’s car and now Victor has his.”

  Andi frowned. “Did they come here together?”

  “I don’t know. I’m beginning to think not.” Reluctantly, he released her. “Come on,” he said. “We have to get out of here.”

  “Yes, we need to leave,” she responded.

  “I don’t think they’ll come back, but they might,” he said.

  “I’m not worried about that,” Andi said. “We need to leave because I think I’m going into labor.”

  Simon stopped and stared at her. “Are you sure?”

  She rubbed her belly. “I’ve been having pains for a while now,” she said. “Then, just now, my water broke.” She opened the coat to reveal her soaked gown. “Ready or not, I think I’m going to have this baby.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Don’t be afraid, Andi told herself as another pain rocked her as soon as she and Simon stepped into the cabin. When he looked at her, she forced a smile. “I’m sure we have plenty of time,” she said.

  “I’ll get the luggage,” he said. “You wait here.”

  As soon as he was out of sight, she steadied herself with one hand on the back of a chair. Should she insist they stay here in the cabin, with the fire and bed and shelter? Did cops know anything about delivering babies? Was that part of their training?

  But the thought of having her baby out here all alone terrified her. She wanted doctors and nurses and bright lights, sterile sheets and painkillers if necessary.

  Simon emerged from the bedroom, suitcases in hand. He wore his coat now, and when she hugged him, she felt the reassuring hardness of the bulletproof vest. “I’ll bring the cruiser around,” he said. “You wait here.”

  Waiting. It seemed that was all she had been doing lately. She leaned back against the porch post and closed her eyes. Had it really only been eight months ago that she had discovered she was pregnant? At the time, she had been nervous but happy, looking forward to building a family with the man she loved—of making a new life of her own that wasn’t dependent on her father’s wealth or his plans for her future.

  But her lover hadn’t been so happy, and she had been horrified to learn that he was married, with two other children she had had no idea existed. Her father had been equally unsupportive, offering to pay for an abortion, more concerned with keeping the scandal a secret than worrying about his daughter’s feelings.

  So she had run away. She hadn’t called it that, of course. She had been “moving on” and “striking out on her own,” but all she had done was retreat into the wilderness, change her name and become involved with a handsome, charismatic man who was as false as all the other men she had met in her life.

  “Lean on me.” Simon’s arm encircled her and she opened her eyes and looked into his weary, concerned face. She saw strength in his eyes, not scorn or impatience or any of the other emotions she had too often seen in other men’s eyes. “Watch your step,” he said. “It’s icy.”

  “Bet you’re glad I wore these silly boots now,” she said as he helped her to the car.

  He squeezed her arms. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you don’t have guts,” he said.

  He shut the passenger door, then returned to the cabin to retrieve the bags and load them in the back. Seconds later, he was guiding the cruiser down the snowy driveway.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. “I have no idea where the nearest hospital is.”

  “It’s probably in Breckenridge,” Simon said. “But all we need is to get back in cell phone range, and we can call for an ambulance.”

  “Good.” She spoke through clenched teeth as another burst of pain rocked through her.

  Simon reached over and took her hand. “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I’ll be fine. Just...let’s get out of here.”

  He hunched over the steering wheel, gaze shifting back and forth, searching, she realized, for any sign of Daniel or Victor. “You don’t think they’re waiting for us, do you?” she asked, anxiously searching the woods closing in on both sides of the road.

  “Their tire tracks are headed the same direction we are.” Simon indicated the crisp tire tread imprints in the snow on the road. “I think Victor is chasing Metwater.”

  “I
think Victor would have killed me and not thought twice about it,” she said. “Daniel wouldn’t have cared, either. I’m nothing to them.” The knowledge sent a wave of nausea through her.

  “They don’t have the capacity to care about anyone but themselves,” Simon said.

  She wanted to ask him if he cared, if he would ever abandon her that way, but the words stuck in her throat. Protecting her was his job, one he was good at. He had admitted he had feelings for her, but clearly duty came first to him. How could she ever fit into his rigid, law-and-order world?

  Another pain hit and she was unable to stifle a cry. The car swerved, then righted once more. “Are you all right?” Simon asked.

  “Stop asking me that! I don’t know if I’m all right. I’m having a baby.”

  “How far apart are the pains?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He glanced at the clock on the dash. “Tell me when the next one hits.”

  “Okay.” She scooted to the edge of the seat, the safety belt straining across her torso, and they both waited in tense silence. She gripped the dash as another pain tore at her. “Now,” she gasped.

  The lines between Simon’s eyes deepened. “About four minutes,” he said. He pulled out his phone and frowned at the screen.

  “Do you have a signal?” she asked, fighting a wave of panic. What if they didn’t make it in time?

  He shook his head. “But we’ll be in range soon. We’ll get an ambulance.”

  She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, every sense focused on her body, on the tension and the pain and the child shifting inside her. This was really happening. And she wasn’t ready.

  The sound of the tires changed as they turned onto pavement, and she opened her eyes again. The highway stretched out in front of them, empty and snow covered, wind stirring up eddies of snow that rose and swirled at headlight level like dancing ghosts.

  Simon pulled to the shoulder of the road and took out his phone. “This is Agent Simon Woolridge with the Ranger Brigade, and I’m on highway 285 south of Fairplay,” he said. “The woman with me is in labor. Her pains are four minutes apart.”