Midnight Hero (18 page)

Not Con's voice. Not Tony's, either. Her already jittery stomach pitched, and then bottomed out somewhere near her boots. Slowly, she turned, keeping her body between Nan and the stranger.

A rangy, sandy-haired man stepped out from behind the base of the three-story Christmas tree. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with an angular face and oddly pale eyes. He pointed a
handgun at her. Big. Black. With a long cylinder stuck in the barrel.
A silencer.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.”

She held herself very, very still while her heart pistoned in her chest like a jackhammer. She wasn't even sure she was still breathing. “Don't hurt us.”

The man's lips twisted in a terrifying smile. “Tony wants to handle that detail personally.”

Bailey's thoughts whirled.
Trapped! Doomed! Need a plan!
“Let's talk. Maybe…maybe we can make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

What would appeal to him the most? “If you let us go, I'll put in a good word for you with the D.A. Perhaps get the charges against you reduced.”

His glacier eyes narrowed as he appeared to consider the idea. A small flicker of hope lit the cold black void inside her.

He shifted his stance, bringing him nearer. She took a step back. He again moved forward. “Nah. Only worthwhile if we're caught. Which won't happen. Especially after we erase you from the picture.”

The flicker snuffed out as hope died an agonizing death.
Stall!
“Don't be so sure.”

He edged closer. She took another step backward. A cruel taunt curled his lip. He was stalking her. And enjoying it. “I like a woman with a strong spine.”

Her spine didn't feel all that sturdy as it collided with something—one of the Nutcrackers—and the wooden soldier wobbled. Her terrified gaze spun down the mall. Where was Con? She wanted him to charge to the rescue. No, wait. Maybe not. She wanted him to stay safe. She bit the inside of her cheek, fought not to give in to smothering fear. She wanted this threatening predator out of her face. Gone.

He leaned closer, so close she smelled onions on his breath. He stroked her cheek with the cold gun barrel, and she shuddered. “There is something else you can offer me.”

“Wh-what?”

He stroked the gun barrel downward, along her neck and over her breast. “You're a smart chick. Figure it out.”

Oh, God! Help!
Bailey swallowed a bitter surge of revulsion. “Not a snowball's chance in hell, mister.”

“I wasn't asking.” He pressed the full length of his body against hers.

“Get off me!” She tried to push him away. It was like trying to move Mount Hood. The Nutcracker at her back wobbled again, but her attacker didn't budge.

Nan shoved to her feet. “Leave her alone!”

Iceberg Eyes pointed the gun at Nan. “Sit, mama.”

Her face pinched with fury, Nan obeyed.

The robber's cold, merciless gaze locked on Bailey. He smiled his monster's smile. “Now, where were we?”

He reveled in her fear, toying with her like a feral cat tormenting a baby bird. She'd be damned if she'd give him the satisfaction. She tamped down terror and made herself stare him in the eye. “You were proving the only way you can get a date is at gunpoint.”

“Tony's right. You've got a sassy mouth. I want a taste.” His face loomed in her vision, and his hot, fetid breath assaulted her lips.

She wrenched her head to the side, avoiding the violation. He fisted her hair in his hand and brutally yanked her head back. Her abused scalp burned. She could not move. Could not stop him from taking what he wanted. She ground her teeth together to trap the scream bubbling in her throat.

Suddenly, her attacker's body rammed into hers. He arched like a bow and the gun went flying. Then he dropped to the floor, landing on his hands and knees.

Nan stood behind him, brandishing the dented office chair. “If you think
mama
will sit there like a trained poodle while you attack my friend,” she panted. “You've got another think coming,
creepazoid.
”

Stunned, the robber swayed on all fours. He fought to gain his footing, and Bailey grabbed Nan's hand and tugged. “Nan, run!”

Nan bent over, immobilized by another contraction. “Oooh. Not now.” She moaned. “Can't. Bailey, go!”

No way was she leaving Nan and the baby. She pushed her friend behind the Christmas tree. She had to stop the criminal from coming after them! Her frantic gaze careened around the
area.
Ah! There!
So, he liked women with a strong spine, did he? She'd show him a strong spine.

She sprinted toward the Nutcracker. Running full out, she slammed her shoulder into it. The big soldier swayed. She planted her boot soles against the faux marble floor and shoved with all her might. The Nutcracker rocked on its platform.

The robber rose on his knees, looked wildly around for the gun. “I'll kill you bitches.”

A fireball of resolve exploded inside her. She could not let him gain his feet! She shoved harder. Screeching nails rent the air, lumber cracked, and the soldier toppled onto the robber. Her combatant lay facedown in the snow batting, motionless under the heavy wooden figure.

Panting, Bailey dropped to her knees. Resting her elbows on the broken wooden base, she cradled her spinning head in her hands. He wasn't dead. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did. He was unconscious, but menace still shivered in the air. He was still breathing. If she'd learned anything tonight, it was the human body's resilience.

She felt no regret. No shame. Just numb relief. She'd done what she had to. Heavy, silent moments passed, broken only by her raspy breathing.

“Bailey!” Con's arms wrapped around her waist. He turned her as carefully as if she were one of the fragile glass ornaments broken in pieces at her feet. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

She burrowed her face in his shoulder. Inhaled his familiar, reassuring scent. “N-no.”

He drew back slightly and cupped her face in his hands. “Let me see, baby.” His dark, concerned gaze traveled over her.

The implications of what she'd narrowly escaped walloped her with hurricane force. She started to tremble. Fought the urge to vomit. “He had a gun. He touched me…He tried to—”

Con spat out a curse. He seethed with fury, a volcano about to erupt. “I'll feed the SOB his own liver.” His taut muscles quivered, giving away his inner war to subdue his rage—even as he lovingly rocked her in his arms.

Finally his harsh, rapid breaths slowed, and he tenderly
brushed back her hair. “Look at me.” He held her gaze and she drew comfort from the steady warmth flickering in his eyes. From the respect stamped on his face. “You beat him, darlin'. You won.”

She ached everywhere. The battle had left bruises on her body. On her soul. She didn't want a rematch any time this millennium. “If this is what winning feels like, I'd hate to lose.”

He kissed her temple. “I should have been here to protect you. It's my job to keep you safe.”

She
despised
the thought of being another burden for him to bear. “Con, no. This is not your fault. Don't—”

“I'm sorry, baby.” A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw. “I got delayed neutralizing the suspect Nan left in the restroom. He came to and wanted a scuffle before he decided to take another nap. Then I had to secure him in the bookstore's storeroom.”

“Nan!” Abashed, she jumped to her feet. “Oh, no, how could I forget about her?”

With Con at her heels, she sprinted to the Christmas tree and circled the base.

Propped against a giant package, Nan squatted on the floor. One hand clutched her abdomen. The other brandished the broken chair arm. When she saw them, she dropped the makeshift weapon. “Thank God! Batman and Robin.”

Bailey's heart stuttered. She'd shoved her friend pretty forcefully. “Nan, are you hurt?”

“No. The contractions…are…ouch! Way close together, though.”

Con's assessing glance swept the perimeter. “Where's the gun?”

“I don't know. When Nan hit him, it flew into the mounds of batting.”

“Was it an Uzi?”

“No, a pistol. Huge. Black. Long cylinder attached to the barrel.”

He frowned. “Get Nan upstairs. I'll restrain and contain the suspect, and locate the weapon.” His frown deepened. “Too bad there's no dentist office in this mall. We might need running water, towels and scissors.”

Nan groaned. “Curl up…and die.”

Con helped Nan to her feet, and the puffing woman leaned against him. His arms tightened in a quick hug. “I know you're feeling rocky, but nobody will die. I promise.”

Nan's laugh was ragged. “Upstairs. Beauty salon. Curl Up and D-Y-E. Water, towels, scissors.”

Con nodded at Bailey. “Go. I'll meet you there.”

“Um,
guys?
” Nan's voice rose. “My water just broke.” She doubled over and would have fallen if not for Con's support.

After the contraction eased, Bailey managed to urge Nan up several stairs while Con riffled through mounds of batting. He came up empty-handed. “Damn, we need that weapon.”

Nan groaned again and had to rest. “This kid isn't waiting.”

Bailey bit her lip. “I doubt I can get her up three flights alone.”

Con forcefully exhaled, strode to meet them, and then swept Nan into his arms. “I'll get her situated and double back.”

As the group climbed, the unconscious man came into view. Nan grinned. “Smack down! Go, Bailey!”

Bailey looked at her fallen assailant. No triumph sang in her veins. She hadn't wanted to hurt him, and took no joy in it. Sadly, he'd pushed her to that decision. The bank robber had forced her to chose. She'd chosen survival. Chosen to save Nan and the baby. She would do it again, without hesitation.

They continued the long ascent and Con shot a concerned look over his shoulder. She held his gaze, mutely assuring him she was maintaining. A shimmer of understanding passed between them. She'd received a crash course about living in his world. About standing between evil and the innocent. Her dragon had roared in outrage and helped her protect Nan and the baby.

Not such a tough moral dilemma after all.

Upstairs, Bailey quickly detoured into Outdoor Outfitters to grab a camping stove. With Con still carrying Nan, the trio arrived at the beauty salon.

Con deposited Nan in a gray vinyl shampoo chair and covered her with the Polarshield blanket. He tugged the lever to raise the footrest, so she could semi-recline. “I've got to return to the scene and secure the perp.”

Nan clutched his sleeve. “No! Don't go! The baby's coming!”

That was all he needed. “Listen to me.” Desperate, he grasped her shoulders. “You cannot have that baby. Not here. Not now.”

The pretty brunette scowled. “Don't think there's much choice.”

He wrestled down a tsunami of panic. “Tell the kid this is not a good time to show up.”

“You think I haven't? He's not paying attention,” Nan moaned. “Not born yet…and already disobeying his mother.”

Bailey touched Con's forearm. “Everything will be fine. You're trained in first aid.” Her anxious expression said,
Please assure me I'm right.

He wished to hell he could neutralize her fears. Along with his own. He was out of his element…by a galaxy. Or six. “
Combat
first aid. Bullet holes. Burns. Missing limbs.” He scrubbed an unsteady hand over his bristly jaw. “SWAT teams deliver high-risk warrants. Not babies!”

Bailey gnawed her lip. A habit she employed when upset. Well, he didn't feel like the king of the world, either. She squared her shoulders. “Guess there's a first time for everything.”

Right. But why did his first time have to be here? Tonight?

He accessed the red walkie-talkie. “Command, this is the Nutcracker. Get the medic,
stat.
Over.” His heart pounded so loudly in his ears, he hoped he could hear the response.

Bailey draped the Polarshield blanket more securely over Nan. “You need to remove your undergarments. I'll find towels and scissors.”

“Hey, Nutcracker.” His brother Grady's amiable voice spoke in his ear. “Doc Holliday, here. About to have yourself a little peanut, huh?”

“This is
so
not funny, Doc,” Con murmured.

“I know it isn't.” Grady's voice grew serious. “There's a buttload of things that can go wrong. So pay attention.”

Watching Bailey light the stove and assemble equipment, Con digested Grady's instructions. He stared at Nan in disbelief. “Say again, Doc? You want me to look
where?
And do
what?
”

Grady repeated his tutorial.
Good Lord.

Con washed his hands in the sink beside Nan. He returned to
the foot of the chair and gingerly raised the blanket. “Sorry, Nan, but I have to…uh…”

“Like I give a flying fig.” Nan was grunting now, straining to push. “Just get this kid out of me.”

More queasy than he cared to admit, Con did what had to be done.
Hoo boy.
If he passed out, the team would never let him live it down. “Doc, we definitely have a head in sight.”

Bailey set a stack of clean towels on the chair next to him. “I put the scissors on to boil. Anything else?”

Con consulted Grady. “Medic says to find something to tie the cord with.”

Bailey found some hair ribbons in a drawer. She handed them to Con as she moved beside Nan and took her hand. “Breathe, Nan. Remember the pattern.”

“My son, wearing hair ribbons.” Nan panted in rhythm.

“He won't mind.” Con patted Nan's foot. “Doing good.”

“You
man!
” Nan hollered in a guttural tone, kicking out at him. “What would you know about it? This is all your fault!”