Midnight Hero (19 page)

“Whoa!” He dodged just in time. “Uh, Doc? Is her head gonna spin all the way around and spew pea soup?”

Grady chuckled. “Even I heard that. She's getting close.”

Nan yelped, and Con winced. “How can I ease her suffering?”

“Afraid you can't. Childbirth isn't for sissies, bro. That's why women get the privilege. Encourage her. Tell her to relax and do her birth exercises.”

Con's throat was so constricted he could barely swallow. Relax.
Sure.
And panting in rhythm while squeezing something the approximate size of a Thanksgiving turkey out a keyhole. Definitely helpful pain relief.
Not.
If it were him…he shuddered…not enough drugs in the freaking universe.

Nan screamed, a high, inhuman keen, and the head emerged.
Holy Mary, mother of God.
And some men thought women were the weaker sex?

Kneeling at the foot of the chair, Con supported the baby's head. “Good job, Nan.” As Grady coached him, Con concentrated on easing out the tiny shoulders.

Finally, the baby slid into Con's hands. He carefully cleaned
the infant's nose and mouth with a dry towel. The baby was supposed to start breathing now. “Doc.” He turned his face aside and spoke quietly, so as not to alarm Nan. “It's blue. Not breathing.”

“They're all slightly blue when they're first born. Support its body with your hands. Turn it facedown, with the head angled slightly downward and slap the soles of the feet to make it cry.”

“He's out. Why isn't he crying?” Nan asked, her voice quivering. “Con?”

“Just a sec, Nan.” Con followed Grady's instructions. Whispered desperately into his mic. “Still not breathing.”

Nan tried to sit up. “Why isn't my baby crying?”

Bailey shot a horrified glance at him and then moved between them, blocking Nan's view.

Thank heaven for his smart, quick-thinking helpmate. He would never have survived this night without her. Without her, he wouldn't have a reason to.

Grady's calm tone urged Con, “Try rubbing its back. Slap the feet again.”

He did. No response from the tiny human. His pulse thundered in his veins. Sweat trickled down his back. “Nothing. Dammit, Doc, help me!”

“Okay, stay calm, bro. You can do this. You're going to have to give it a couple breaths. Two quick, tiny puffs. Be careful.”

“My baby's not breathing,” Nan sobbed. “Is he…”

Bailey held her friend and crooned in a soothing voice. Her scared blue eyes begged Con to succeed.

He wanted to—more than he wanted his heart to continue beating. More careful than he'd ever been in his life, he gave the unresponsive infant two small breaths.
Please, God, if you're listening…

The baby sputtered, coughed, and then began to cry lustily.

“Yee-haw!” Grady shouted over the headset. “Yeah, that's the bomb! You did it, bro!”

Everybody was crying. Nan. Bailey. The baby. Tears of gratitude streamed down Con's cheeks. Thank the Lord, the baby was wailing!

“Can I hold him now?” Nan begged.

“I need to tie and cut the cord first.” He propped the pink, wriggling infant gingerly on a clean towel. The simple but terrifying procedure was rendered much more difficult by the fact that his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Nan sniffled. “You saved my baby's life. I'm sure Brad will agree he should be named after you.” She wiped her eyes. “You
and
Bailey. Well, Bailey's dad.” She stretched out her arms. “Hand over Conall David Thompson.”

Bailey smiled at Con through her tears, and his heart turned over. She nodded at Nan. “Has a lovely ring to it.”

“That's quite an honor.” Con swaddled the infant in towels and placed the tiny, wiggly bundle into Nan's waiting arms. “I'm afraid she's gonna get teased on the playground, though.”

Nan stared at him, her dancing brown eyes incredulous. “
She?
It's a
girl?
”

“I'm pretty sure.” Con grinned at Nan, then Bailey. “Unless I broke something.”

Nan hastily unwrapped the towels to verify his claim. “Well, I'll be! The ultrasound was wrong. A girl, how fun!” She laughed, tears streaming down her face.

“Guess you'll have to rethink that name.”

Nan kissed the top of the baby's fuzzy head. “Constance Bailey Thompson. Welcome to the world.” She arched her brows at Con. “What time is it?”

As sweaty and exhausted as if he'd run the Boston Marathon with his leg shackled to an armored car, he consulted his watch. “Eleven fifty-nine, and counting.”

12:00 Midnight

“H
appy New Year!”
Bailey whispered along with Con and Nan. Grady echoed the sentiment over the headset.

Bailey hugged Con and gave him a kiss. “To new beginnings.”

A wondering expression crossed his face. “Excuse us, Nan. Cover wee Constance's eyes.” He turned Bailey, bent her over his arm and kissed her. His warm, silky tongue teased and tantalized. Caressed and plundered. He staked a possessive claim, consuming her. Branding her as his. Her breath evaporated and her head spun. Her bones melted. Bright spots danced before her eyes.

He eased back and flashed her a wicked grin. “Have to kiss my girl properly, and start the new year right.”

“Looked kind of improper to me.” Nan chuckled and bussed her newborn daughter's cheek. The baby gurgled and waved her fists in the air like a miniature prizefighter. “The best kind.”

“Absolutely,” Bailey woozily agreed. She couldn't have felt fizzier and warmer had she consumed too much celebratory champagne. High on the miracle of life. High on Con.

“Party's over.” Con clapped his hands. “We need to get these ladies hidden and wrap up this incident so we can all go home.”

Bailey crashed to earth. They had a lot more work to do before the miracle of life could triumph over evil and death.

Con propped open the door to the employee lounge. “I'll carry Nan to the sofa.”

Nan offered Constance to Bailey. “Want to hold your namesake?”

Bailey accepted the precious bundle. The baby was much
lighter than she'd expected. Fragile and helpless. Dependent on them to protect her. “She's so small.”

Nan laughed. “Yeah,
now!
She didn't feel small a while ago!”

Constance stared up at Bailey with wide, dark eyes spiked with long lashes, and her alert expression asked,
Who are you?

Bailey caught her breath in awe. “She's beautiful.”

Con winked at Nan. “In a few years, she'll have the boys eating out of her hand.” He carried Nan into the lounge.

Bailey followed with slow, careful steps, and then handed Constance to Nan. Nan hugged the infant close. “Her daddy might have a thing or two to say about that.”

Bailey straightened. Her gaze locked with Con's, and her heart flipped over.

Emotions shimmered between them. Hope. Love. A thousand unspoken promises. His gorgeous brown eyes glowed with visions of the future. “The first time I saw you,” he whispered, “I saw my unborn children in your eyes.”

Her heart ached with longing. Con's babies. Would she have the chance to rock them in her arms? Nurture them as they grew. Shower them with the love she and Con shared.

He held her gaze a moment longer. Between one breath and the next, the shimmering connection dissolved. Regret shadowed his handsome face before he turned away. “I'll scout around and figure out how to secure this place.”

Bailey tucked away the beautiful memory. One of the most important lessons she'd learned tonight was to savor every moment. You never knew when—or if—you'd get another chance. The time had come for her and Con to separate. Not knowing if they'd see one another again.

Just as she'd tucked away the pleasure, she set aside the pain. Both would wait for later. She needed a clear head and uncluttered focus. “Are you leaving me with Nan and Constance?”

“No. I've modified the plan. Since Nan escaped, the suspects will be furious, their reactions unpredictable. I'll station you with Syrone. He has a weapon, and you'll be my eyes and ears on the first floor as the incident comes to a head.”

Surprise, mingled with validation, washed over Bailey. In
stead of stuffing her into a hidey-hole as if she were a timid little rabbit, he was keeping her in action. He might not want her on the front line, but he
did
trust her to back him up. She nodded, smiled at him. She would not let him down.

Con used the red walkie-talkie to update Syrone. “Syrone says you can't beat that woman-power.” Grinning, Con hurried out front.

Bailey plumped pillows behind Nan's back and tucked hand-warmer heating pads around mother and baby. She covered them with a purple knitted afghan she'd found draped over the sofa and the Polarshield blanket. “Warm and cozy. Anything else I can do?”

“I'm super thirsty. And starving.” Her face radiant, Nan grinned. “Having a baby is hard work!”

“Especially without anesthesia. Yikes!”

“I've already forgotten the pain.”

“If you say so.” Brows arched in disbelief, Bailey raided a small refrigerator. “You're in luck. Bottled water, and a fast-food salad one of the stylists must have left behind.”

Once Nan had sustenance, Bailey scrounged hand towels and hair clips to function as makeshift diapers. Who knew how long the siege would drag on, and Constance needed to be kept warm and dry. Thank heaven they didn't have to worry about feeding her.

Bailey also gave Nan a squirt bottle of bleach, a straight razor and big, sharp scissors. “I hope you won't need weapons, but just in case…” She added scissors and a razor to her own backpack, and tallied the recent acquisitions in her notebook.

Nan's expression grew lethal. “Anybody who tries to lay a finger on my daughter will lose it.”

“After your attack on the robber with the office chair, I have no doubts.” She and Nan exchanged silent communication, friend to friend. “Thank you.”

Nan's dark eyes conveyed her empathy over Bailey's close escape from a woman's ultimate horror. “Anytime, girlfriend.” She shuddered. “For a while, I was beginning to wonder if I would escape from that bank alive. To make an awful situation worse, the robbers are fighting amongst themselves.”

“About stuff going wrong. Yes, you mentioned that before.”

“Well, they're also arguing because one of the guys accused Tony of working in cahoots with you to get rid of them.”

Bailey's jaw dropped. “Why on earth would they think that?”

“Letty's egging them on. She's the one who brought it up.” Nan's grin bounced back. “She said, ‘Interesting how every time he sends someone out, they don't come back. How nice for Tony. Less ways to divide the money.' Tony was gnashing his teeth.”

“Hmm.” Bailey tapped her chin with a forefinger. “Wonder if there's a way to use that against him?”

“Oh, and maybe this will help, too. Tony's men have orders to bring you in alive, if possible. He's boiling mad over the accusations. He wants to prove that he's not in league with you.” Her eyes widened. “And exact his revenge in person.”

More of Tony's brutal brand of
satisfaction?
Shivers crawled up Bailey's spine. “I'm glad you told me. I'll fill Con in. If there's a way to turn it around on the robbers, he'll know.”

“Be careful, girlfriend. Tony is dangerous, and you've been messing with his head.” Nan's brows creased in worry. “They're all dangerous. The one who attacked you…he won't care if Tony wants you alive. In fact, most of them probably won't. You've kept them from taking the money and splitting.”

“Don't worry. Just take care of yourself and Constance.”

Con returned. “Time for ‘Auld Lang Syne.'” He and Bailey said reluctant farewells to Nan and Constance, and headed out.

Outside the beauty shop, Con jumped up and grabbed the security gate. With the computerized system out of commission, only brute force could budge it. Hanging from the edge, he dragged the gate partially down.

Bailey added her weight. Gears grinding, the cage lowered slowly to the floor. He smashed the control panel and upper tracks with the baseball bat, and then wedged the bat in the lower track. “Should do the trick. Anyone on the hunt will assume the cage descended on its own like some of the others. Even if they suspect someone is inside, they'd have to expend a buttload of time and energy to wrestle it back up.”

“Which will warn Nan and give her the opportunity to fight.”

“That's the plan.” He grabbed her hand and they strode down the mall.

She hid inside an electronics store while he headed downstairs to find the pistol and restrain the man who had assaulted her. They planned to contact Tony afterward and use Con's latest brainstorm to stall him about the chopper.

Shivering in the dark, she waited between shoulder-high shelves lined with computers. The hair rose on the back of her neck with the creepy feeling that someone was watching her. She whirled. The blank-eyed monitors stared menacingly.
Put a lid on that wild and crazy imagination, girlfriend.
Her imagination had been a comfort during her lonely adolescence, and come to Con's aid a number of times tonight. But right now, it could take a nap.

For distraction, she fantasized about what would happen after the ordeal was over, and she and Con went back to his apartment. She imagined a lovely, endless night of tender lovemaking. Thought about how incredible it would feel to wake up in his arms.

Con possessed innate athletic confidence and grace, which made him superb at anything physical. He was also tuned in to constant awareness of her moods and feelings. The combination would surely make him a spectacular lover. Goose bumps of anticipation tingled over her skin. She sighed in longing. Both her body and her heart would be safe in his keeping.

“Heads up, cupcake!” The furious growl had her spinning around again.

A long, heart-shaking moment of ice-cold horror crawled by before she realized the voice had spoken over her headset. She flipped the switch to transmit. “T-Tony?”

“Who were you expecting, jolly old Saint Nick? Where's my friggin' chopper?”

“On the way,” she lied. Too bad Con hadn't shared his stalling idea with her before he left. He'd thought they had plenty of time. “The storm caused a slight delay, but it will be there. They're…deicing it now.”

“It better be. Where's my hostage?”

She feigned innocence. “What hostage?”

“I'm getting real tired of this game, cupcake. The missing hostage. The pregnant one. Where is she?”

“Sorry, I don't know anything about a renegade hostage. But, hey, look at it as one less problem to deal with.”

“Yeah, right. And I want my missing crew!”

“Did you misplace some men, too? Careless of you.” She forced her words to ooze nonchalance, though she felt anything but. “Another silver lining. Fewer ways to split the money.”

“You bitch,” he growled savagely. “When I get my hands on you, and whoever you're working with—”

“Let's not go there, because it won't happen.”

“Unless my chopper and missing crew show up at the multiplex, and soon…” Tony sounded ready to chew the furniture. “I am going to start shooting.”

She covered her gasp by clearing her throat. “You don't want to do that. You'll lose the ground you've gained. Listen, how about I tell the police you willingly released the hostage? Gain you some goodwill.” Of course, she'd do no such thing. But the lie might chill him out some. “Nobody will give you anything, including a chopper, if you kill—”

“I don't have to shoot to kill. Taking out Grandma's kneecap would cripple her, though. And it might finally shut her up.”

She closed her eyes, fighting nausea. He was just a threatening voice on the headset. Con had everything under control. SWAT was outside, ready to storm in on a moment's notice. “If you hurt anyone, the police will—”

Her words broke off mid-sentence as wide, masculine hands settled on her shoulders. The low, male voice rumbled, “Who are you talking to?”

Her eyelids flew open. She knew that voice. Recognized the familiar scent.

Onions.

Her stomach flip-flopped in terror. She didn't want to turn around. Didn't want to see him, and make the nightmare a reality.

Because
if
he was here, that meant Con was…
Oh, my God!

Con!
Her shattered heart cried out in agony.

Her thoughts whirling, body numb, she slowly turned.

Scratches marred Glacier Eyes' angular face, and a diagonal cut gashed his right cheek. The greenish black bruises mottling both pale, emotionless eyes made them look even paler. Scarier. The big, black pistol rode in a scarred leather holster across his chest. He smirked. “I'm gonna rip your wings off, Fairy.”

Her brain's frantic shouts finally kicked in and her stunned body moved. She took a step back. Then another. She pivoted to run.

“Don't leave.” The robber grabbed her by the hair. Searing pain made her eyes water. The sudden jolt tore off her headset, and it dangled from her belt. “The party's just getting started.”

Tony will think I hung up on him.
The disembodied thought didn't seem to belong to her. Strange how the mind reacted to fear by enhancing insignificant details.

“Where's your friend?”

For a moment, she thought he meant Con. No. He knew where Con was. Anguish stabbed her heart, the only organ in her body with feeling. He meant Nan.

“She had to leave.” Even her lips were numb. Good. Then it wouldn't hurt as much when he shot her. “She hates parties.”

“So, we're all alone.” His harsh mouth twisted, and she read his intent in those bone-chilling eyes.

He was going to kill her. But he was going to hurt and degrade her first. No way could she stop him. She had scissors and a razor in her pack, but he was twice her size. Even if she could reach the weapons, he outweighed her by at least eighty pounds. Even if she knew how to fight, hand-to-hand combat was futile.

Best case scenario: she'd delay the inevitable.

She firmed her chin. But she could, and
would
fight to the death rather than submit to rape. Heat surged into her frozen limbs. As he dragged her toward him, she reached out, snagged a dangling cord and tugged a monitor off the shelf.