Mountain Midwife. Cassie Miles
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identity by checking property records. As far as he was concerned, his undercover assignment was over. He reached into his jeans pocket, took out his cell phone.
This wasn’t an everyday cell. Though Cole didn’t need a lot of fancy apps, he’d used the geniuses at the FBI to modify his phone to suit his specific needs.
The first modification: He could disable the GPS locator. Unless he had it turned on, he couldn’t be tracked. His handler—Agent Ted Waxman in L.A.—wasn’t thrilled with the need for secrecy, but Cole needed to be sure his cover wouldn’t be blown by some federal agent jumping the gun.
Second, his directory of phone numbers couldn’t be read without using a five-digit code. His identity was protected in case somebody picked up his phone.
Third and most important, his number was blocked to everyone. Waxman couldn’t call him with new orders and information. Cole, alone, made the decision when he would make contact and when he needed help.
Now was that time. He activated the GPS locator to alert Waxman that he was ready for extraction. Response time was usually less than an hour. Cole intended to be away from the house when that time came.
He slid the phone into his pocket and called out, “Hey, ladies, I need some help figuring out how to pack this stuff.”
Rachel came out of the bathroom. Right away, he could see the change in her demeanor. No longer the self-assured professional, she had a haunted look in her eyes. Beneath her wispy bangs, her forehead pinched with worry. She whispered, “What’s going to happen to me?”
Now would have been a good time to flash a badge and tell her that he was FBI, but he wasn’t carrying identification. “I’ll get you out of here.”
Her gaze assessed him. During the hours of Penny’s labor and the aftermath, a bond had grown between them. He hoped it was enough to make her cooperate without the reassurance of his credentials.
She asked, “Why should I trust you?”
“You don’t have much choice.”
Penny swept into the room and went to the travel bassinette where her baby was sleeping. “Be sure that you put all the baby stuff in the huge backpack so I can take it with me.”
“Like what?” Cole asked.
“Diapers,” Rachel said. “There’s a sling for carrying newborns. And you’ll need blankets and formula.”
“But I’m breast-feeding. My milk already came in. Does that mean my boobs are going to get small again? Jenna said they would.”
“Your friend Jenna doesn’t have children. She doesn’t know.” Rachel’s hands trembled as she sorted through the various baby items. “I don’t have a car seat I can leave with you. You’ll need to buy one as soon as possible.”
Cole saw an opportunity to get Rachel alone. He wanted to reassure her that help was on the way. He asked her, “Don’t you have a baby seat in your van?”
“I want it.” Penny climbed onto the bed and stretched out. Her pink flannel robe contrasted her wan complexion. “Get it for me.”
Rachel said, “I need that car seat for emergencies. If I have to transport a child to a hospital or—”
“Don’t be stupid, Rachel. You’re not going to need that van anymore. You’re coming with me. I need you to help me with Goldie.”
Rachel recoiled as though she’d been slapped. “I have a job.”
“So what? You’ll make more money with me than you would as a midwife.” Penny propped herself up on one elbow. “Come here and help me get these pillows arranged.”
Rachel did as she’d been ordered, then she turned toward Cole. “I’ll help you get the car seat out of the van. The straps are complicated, and I don’t want you to break it.”
From the bed, Penny waved. “Hurry back. I want more tea.”
He grabbed Rachel’s down parka from the bedroom closet and held it for her. She hadn’t said a word, but he knew she’d made a decision to stick with him. Not surprising. Trusting Penny to take care of her would be suicidal.
RACHEL DIDN’T HAVE A PLAN. Trust Cole? Sure, he’d shown sensitivity when the baby was delivered. The whole time he was helping her, he’d been smart and kind, even gentlemanly. But he also had kidnapped her and jammed a gun into her neck.
All she needed from him was her car keys.
When they stepped outside through the side door of the house, he caught hold of her arm and pulled her back, behind the bare branches of a bush and a towering pine. Edging uphill, he whispered, “Duck down and stay quiet. Something isn’t right.”
The night was still and cold. Snowflakes drifted lazily, and she was glad for the warmth of her parka and hood. Behind them was a steep, thickly forested hillside. Peeking around Cole’s shoulder, she saw the side of the house and the edge of the wooden porch that stretched across the front. Since she’d been sequestered in the bedroom with Penny and hadn’t seen the rest of the house, she hadn’t realized that it was two stories with a slanted roof. To her right was a long, low garage. Was her van parked inside? She couldn’t see past the house, didn’t know if there was a road in front or other cars.
Through the stillness, she heard the rumble of voices. There were others out here, hiding in the darkness.
She whispered, “Can you see anything?”
“A couple of shadows. No headlights.”
Mysterious figures creeping toward the hideout might actually be to her advantage. She prayed that it was the police who had finally tracked down the gang. “Who is it?”
“Can’t tell.” His voice was as quiet as the falling snow; she had to lean close to hear him. “Could be the cops. Or it could be Penny’s boyfriend.”
“Baron.” He sounded like a real creep—much older than Penny and greedy enough to want his pregnant girlfriend to participate in a robbery. “Penny said this was his house. Why wouldn’t he just walk inside?”
“Hush.”
For a moment, she considered raising her hands above her head and marching to the front of the cabin to surrender. It was a risk, but anything would be better than being under Penny’s thumb.
Gunfire from a semiautomatic weapon shattered the night. She heard breaking glass and shouts from inside the house.
She wasn’t a stranger to violence. When she was driving the ambulance, she’d been thrust into a lot of dicey situations, and she prided herself on an ability to stay calm. But the gunfire shocked her.
Shots were returned from inside the house.
There was another burst from the attackers.
She clung to Cole’s arm. “Tell me what to do.”
“We wait.”
The side door they’d come through flung open. Frank charged outside. With guns in both hands, the big man dashed into the open, firing wildly as he ran toward the garage.
He was shot. His arms flew into the air before he fell. His blood splattered in the snow. He didn’t attempt to get up, but she saw his arm move. “He’s not dead.”
“Don’t even think about stepping into the open to help him,” Cole whispered. “The way I figure, there are only two shooters. Three at the most. They don’t have the manpower to surround the cabin, but they have superior weapons.”
Though her mind was barely able to comprehend what she was experiencing, she nodded.
He continued, “We’ll go up the hill, wait until the shooting is over and circle back around to the garage.”
Taking her gloved hand, he pulled her through the ankle-deep snow into the surrounding