Race Against Time

When the highway flattened out into a straightaway, she could see the same shaky headlights behind her, but he had not gained any ground. The farther she rode, the heavier the traffic had become. She was closer to safety, but her shoulder was on fire and she was getting weak.

The car was closer now as she rode into Las Vegas. She saw the shaky headlight in her rearview mirror more often, but he hadn’t gotten close enough to hurt her again. At the first stoplight she came to, she yanked out her phone and searched the address of the closest police station, then synced the directions to the mic in her helmet and followed them straight to the address.

There was a No Parking sign in front of the station, but she couldn’t go any farther, and she needed to make it inside before the gunman caught up to them. Her legs were shaking as she got off the bike, hung her helmet and checked on the baby. He’d slipped farther down inside her jacket, but she could feel him breathing. He was asleep, though it seemed crazy to her that he could rest after such an accident. He was probably in shock. After one quick glance over her shoulder she ran inside, requesting to speak to someone in Homicide.

The officer up front led her to a separate area where three detectives were working. One was on the phone and two were doing paperwork. They all looked up at the same time, but Nick Saldano was the first to move as he hung up the phone. He was already taking her measure as he started toward the tall, dusty redhead. She was dressed in leather biker gear, and she looked strung out and—from a quick glance at her round stomach—pregnant. But she blew his first read all to hell when she put one hand under her belly and began unzipping her jacket with the other.

“Help me,” she said.

All three saw the baby and the blood at the same time and bolted, running toward her as she began to fall.

Nick caught her and the baby before they hit the floor.

“Daniels, get the kid. Murphy, call 911.”

He had her jacket off and was checking for an entrance wound when she moaned and opened her eyes.

“Tried to kill me,” she whispered.

“Who tried to kill you!” Nick asked.

She grabbed his wrist so hard her nails dug into the skin.

“Help me.”

“We’ve got you, ma’am. You’re at the police station. What’s your name?”

“The baby?”

“Your baby’s okay,” Nick said.

“Not my baby,” she mumbled and passed out again.

“Daniels! Check for any kind of identification on the baby. She said he wasn’t hers,” Nick said, as he went through the pockets of the jacket they’d taken off of her. They were empty.

“I wanted this to be an easy end to this shift, but no. It’s nearly midnight and the Fourth of July. Who was I kidding?” Daniels muttered.

“Paramedics on the way,” Murphy shouted.

A few minutes later two medical teams came running into the room. One team headed for the sleeping baby while the other one began to assess the woman.

Nick stood off to the side watching them work, but every few seconds his gaze would go back to her face. He couldn’t shake the feeling he should know her, but he couldn’t think of her name.

He was still trying to place her when the medical teams loaded up both victims and headed for the ambulances.

“Hey! Where are you taking her?” Nick called.

“Centennial Hill Hospital,” one of them said, and then they were gone.

Nick ran back to his desk, got his handgun out of the drawer and slipped it in the shoulder holster beneath his jacket.

“Someone tell Lieutenant Summers what’s going down. I’ll follow to the hospital,” Nick said. “Maybe I can get some more of the story before they take her to surgery. Daniels, notify Social Services about the baby. They need to send someone to the hospital.”

“Will do,” Daniels said and headed for the phone.

Nick followed the paramedics down the hall and then out of the building. When he saw a big Harley parked in front of the precinct, he guessed it was hers. He called back to the office.

“Homicide.”

“Murphy, it’s me. There’s a big black Harley parked in front of the precinct. Have it checked for ID and then have it towed. Their crime-scene analysts need to run it for prints.”

“Will do,” Murphy said.

Nick jumped in his car and, despite the noise of the ongoing holiday celebrations, ran lights and siren all the way to Centennial Hill.

* * *

Because of his missing windshield, there was no way Dev could drive into the city without getting stopped by local police. He cruised past a couple of bars on the outskirts of Las Vegas until he found one with a classier clientele. He pulled into the parking lot, ditched his car and within a few minutes found one unlocked and a man passed out in the front seat. He dragged the man out of the car, propped him up against the back of the Lucky Joe’s Casino between two Dumpsters and took off.

By the time he got back on the streets, he’d obviously lost his target. There was nothing he could do but keep moving down the main drag and hope for the best. One minute passed into another, and just when he was beginning to think he was done, he saw the motorcycle weaving through traffic at a fast clip.

The knot in his belly eased. Pissing Anton Baba off was never a good risk and not coming back with his son could be a deadly error.

He followed the biker through every twist and turn, hoping for a chance to get rid of her and grab the kid, but with the traffic he couldn’t get nearly close enough to them. He didn’t realize she was heading to the police station until it was too late to stop her, and she was inside by the time he parked. He picked a place where he could watch the front entrance, then made a quick call to Anton to let him know his son was still alive.

* * *

Ian pulled up to the gates at the Baba estate and keyed the number pad to let himself in. He could hear Anton’s woman kicking and screaming in the trunk and was somewhat worried that he didn’t have the kid, as well.

As the gates swung inward, he sped up the drive and around the mansion to the delivery entrance in back. He’d already called to let Baba know he was on the way and was not surprised to see the man himself standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the lights behind him.

* * *

“Well, where are they?” Baba asked, as Ian got out of the car and headed to the back of the car and opened the trunk.

Star had cried all the way into the city, so by the time the trunk was opened, her eyes were nearly swollen shut, her bloody back was visible, and she was screaming.

Anton was shocked at the condition she was in, and the fact that the baby was missing was even more troubling.

“Where is my son?” Anton shouted, but she wouldn’t stop screaming.

“Get her inside!” he said and strode back into the house.

Ian picked her up and followed his boss through the house to the library.

“Put her down,” Anton said.

Ian dropped her on the floor at Anton’s feet, ignoring her low moan of pain.

Anton looked at her in disgust.

“So she is here, but where is my son?” he asked.

Star was sobbing uncontrollably as she rolled over on her hands and knees and dragged herself upright.

“You killed our son!” she screamed and launched herself at Anton, hammering at his chest with her fists. “They shot at us over and over. We wrecked. Why? Why? If you didn’t want us anymore, why didn’t you just let us go?”

Anton reeled. Sammy was dead?

“No, no, that can’t be,” he moaned, then turned on Ian. “What did I tell you to do?”

“Find them and bring them back,” Ian muttered.

Star was playing the grieving mother to the hilt and nailed Anton again.

“Why do you care? You were going to sell me. I heard you! I couldn’t lose my baby, and then you let them shoot at us! Just because you didn’t want him doesn’t mean I didn’t either. He was my life! He was a part of you! I thought we mattered. I thought we were a family! If you hadn’t been such a miserable greedy bastard, none of this would have happened. I hate you, I hate you,” she sobbed and then collapsed at his feet.

For one of the few times in his life, Anton Baba felt regret. He knelt beside her.

“What made you think that?” he asked.

“I heard you! I heard you making the deal! I curse you, Anton Baba. Your evil, ugly world is going to fall down around your ears.”

She moaned, a sound so bereft and hopeless it cut to what conscience he had left. He put a hand on her back and then flinched when she screamed out in pain. He pulled his hand away covered in blood.

He looked up at Ian with a cold, emotionless stare.

“What did you do?” he asked.

Ian shrugged. “Only what you told us to do.”

Star shrieked and began scooting backward away from Anton.

“You told him to shoot at us? He shot out the tires. I was thrown out of the car when it began to roll,” she said. “I want to die. My baby died. I want to die, too.”

Rage washed through Anton in waves, but he was calm as he stood up and turned around.

“Why did you shoot at them?” he asked.

Ian should have been warned by the quiet tone of his boss’s voice.

“They were getting away.”

“Where’s Dev? Where’s Bergman and his men?”

“Bergman and his crew are dead. Dev and I found them in an alley.” He pointed to the floor at Star. “We followed her and your cook out of Vegas. I don’t know who the man was with them. Dev was behind them. He shot at their car. They shot out his windshield. And then their car skidded off the highway and into the desert. We tried to stop them. The car rolled and caught fire. I left him behind to clean up.”

All the color faded from Anton’s face.

“You left my son.”

“The car was burning. There was nothing we could—”

The roar that came out of Anton Baba was nothing short of terrifying as he pivoted and grabbed the daggerlike letter opener from the desk behind him.

At that moment, Ian knew he was done. He turned to run but was a couple of seconds too late. Anton leaped forward and stabbed the letter opener into the back of Ian’s neck, cutting the spinal cord and the blood supply to his brain. He dropped without making a sound.

Anton pulled the little dagger out and wiped it on the back of Ian’s shirt before dropping it back on his desk, then looked down again at the woman on the floor, at the blood and dirt on her body and the grief on her face.

“This should not have happened,” he muttered, then reached for his cell phone and punched in the number to the wing where his hired guns stayed.

His call was answered on the first ring.

“Yes, sir?”

“Luis, I need the cleanup crew in the library.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” Luis said.

Anton disconnected, looked at Star one more time and then made another call. The phone rang several times before it was answered.

“Dr. Fuentes, it’s Anton Baba. I need you.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Anton disconnected and dropped his cell back in his pocket and then went back to Star. The moment he picked her up in his arms, she cried out from the pain.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly and then carried her out of the library and all the way up to their bedroom. He could not put into words what he was feeling, but there was a pain in his heart and a roaring in his ears. His son was dead.

Anton laid her on the bed. He’d never seen her like this. Before, she’d been so passive, doing everything he demanded. He’d never looked beyond what she could do for him. But this woman...shattered, bloody, filthy, and so very broken in her grief. He saw her power and her rage and had never been attracted to her more.

His phone rang.

He took it out of his pocket, glanced at caller ID and then answered.

“Hello.”

“Boss, this is Dev. Is Ian there?”

Anton thought of the dead man in his library and the blood spreading over the Persian rug beneath his body.

“Yes, he is here,” Anton said.

“Okay, then you know what went down. I was still on site when a biker saw the fire and rode off the highway to where the car was burning. The moment the helmet came off I could see it was a woman. And then I saw her run toward the fire, and when she ran back toward her bike she was carrying the kid. I followed her to—”

Anton gasped.

“What did you say?”

“I said I followed her to—”

“No, no! You said someone took my son! He is alive?”

“Yes. I saw the biker pick him up and zip him up into her jacket. I tried to stop her but she got away. I followed her into Vegas but lost her in the traffic. When I caught up with her again she was already inside the police station.”

“Where are you now?” Anton asked.

“Outside the police station waiting for her to—Oh, hell.”

“What?” Anton shouted.

“Two ambulances just rolled up to the police station.”

“What does that mean?” Anton cried.

“I shot at the woman as she was riding away. I might have hit her.”

“She was holding my son in her arms and you shot at her?”

Dev realized what he’d just said.

“What do you want me to do?” Dev asked.

“Did she see you?”

“I don’t know. It was dark. I doubt it.”

“You doubt it? You fucking doubt it? Here’s what I want you to do. I don’t want a witness left who can identify you. Get rid of her and bring me my son.”

Anton knew he’d just assigned an impossible task. One that would probably get Dev killed. He didn’t care.

“Yes, sir,” Dev said and disconnected.

Anton slipped his phone back in his pocket, sat down beside Star and took her hand.

“Star, Star, can you hear me?”

Star moaned.

He reached out, then drew back, uncertain of a safe place to touch.

“Sammy is not dead. Someone found him and took him to the police department. I will get him back for you. Do you hear me? I will get him back.”

She opened her eyes.

“You lie.”

He frowned. People did not accuse him in such a manner.

“I do not lie.”

“You lied to me. You told me Sammy and I would always be safe with you, and then you made a deal to sell me. I will hate you forever.”

He had no response to that.“I will find Sammy and bring him back. You will see,” he said.

“Stop talking, Anton. Your words mean nothing to me anymore. I just want to die so that all of this will be over. I can’t bear any more pain. I can’t bear any more heartache. I’m sorry I didn’t die. I’m sorry Sammy didn’t die. Then we would both be free of you,” she said and closed her eyes.

* * *

Nick followed the ambulances to the hospital. By the time he located the redhead in ER she was on an examining table, naked, bloody and unconscious. He could hear the baby crying a couple of doors down, but a toddler couldn’t tell him anything he needed to know. He just had to wait, hoping the woman would wake up enough to tell him what the hell happened to her. And if that baby wasn’t hers, who did he belong to?

* * *

Quinn woke up to bright lights and chaos, bathed in a pain she could feel all the way to her bones. Someone was trying to turn her over and someone else was talking in loud, staccato syllables. A part of her sensed the urgency in the voice, which was not a reassuring sound.

Where was she?

What had happened to her?

Was she going to die?

Someone was yelling in her ear. A woman.

She frowned. Why were they yelling? She wasn’t deaf.

“Honey, can you hear me?”

Quinn moaned, struggling to pull herself out of the pain-induced fog.

“Yes.”

“What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” the woman asked.

Quinn was struggling to stay conscious.

“Quinn.”

“Thank you, Quinn. Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital.”

“Yes,” the woman said. “You’ve been shot.”

Quinn felt someone running a hand across her midriff, pressing into the taut flesh. She reached out, trying to grab it.

“Police. Need police,” she mumbled.

Nick’s heart skipped.

“Here! I’m here,” he said, as he moved to the foot of the bed. “Detective Nick Saldano, Las Vegas Homicide.”

“The car...on fire. Two dead inside. Found baby there.”

“Where?” Nick asked. “Where did you see this?”

“93...”

Nick frowned.

“Highway 93?”

Quinn shuddered as a ripple of pain rolled through her and reached toward her shoulder.

“Ma’am? Quinn? Highway 93?” Nick asked again.

Her eyelids fluttered. The word came out on a sigh.

“Yes.”

“Who shot you?”

“Don’t know. Someone...in the desert.”

“Did you see what they were driving?”

But Quinn didn’t answer. She was unconscious again.

“That’s all for now, Detective. She’s still bleeding. Must have nicked a vein. She’s going to surgery.”

Nick backed up and watched as they wheeled her out of ER. Something terrible had happened out in the desert, and he had a hunch Quinn was a witness someone had tried to kill. The fact that she was still breathing put her in danger all over again.

“Go with God,” he said and left the examining room. He needed to call his lieutenant about the reported murder, and get a guard on this woman ASAP. And then check and see if someone from Child Welfare was here for the kid.

* * *

Quinn woke up again as they were moving her to the operating table. The simple act of moving her from the bed to the table was excruciating. Tears welled.

“Hurts. Please don’t,” she mumbled.

Someone patted her arm.

“I’m sorry, dear. We’ll get you comfortable soon. Take a deep breath.”

She didn’t see the anesthesia going into her IV but she felt it. A fleeting thought went through her mind that if she died today, there would be no one to grieve her passing, and then she felt nothing.

* * *

The county authorities who were dispatched to find the crime scene drove several miles north on Highway 93 watching for signs of a fire off in the desert.

What they saw instead were floodlights and smoke. They drove up on a chopper parked near what was left of a smoldering car and a large number of vehicles parked a safe distance away.

Sheriff Baldwin frowned as they pulled up and parked. What in hell had they come up on?

Two men separated themselves from the crowd around the burned-out car and came to meet them.

“I’m Sheriff Baldwin,” he said. “We’re here to investigate a report of a car fire. Who are you and what are you doing with my crime scene?”

The man nodded at Baldwin, then flashed his badge as he introduced himself.

“Sheriff, Federal Agent Carl Gleason and this is my partner, Federal Agent Lou Powers.”

Baldwin was noticeably surprised by Feds on the scene as Gleason continued.

“The victims in the burned-out car are two of our own, so we’ve taken control of the crime scene.”

Baldwin frowned.

“Then you might like to know that the biker who reported this also found a survivor. The witness was shot leaving the scene but made it to the Las Vegas police precinct before she collapsed.”

Gleason’s pulse shifted gears.

“So the baby survived?”

“How did you know the survivor was a baby?” Sheriff Baldwin asked.

Gleason didn’t answer. He just asked another question.

“Was there any sign of the mother?” Gleason asked.

“No one else was mentioned to me when they called this in,” Baldwin said.

“Where is the baby now?” Agent Gleason asked.

“I have no idea, but why all the secrecy?”

“The kid is Anton Baba’s,” Gleason said. “The rest is on a need-to-know basis.”

Baldwin frowned.

“This is my county, and I need to know why someone shot at a woman and a baby as they were leaving this wreck, understand?”

Gleason thought about it a moment and then decided he could let Baldwin in on this...to a degree.

“My agents had taken the woman and her baby into protective custody and were on their way to a pickup site. When they didn’t arrive as scheduled, we started looking for them and found this. We assumed Baba took them back, but if you’ve got a witness on the scene who has the baby, then maybe there’s still a chance to save him. We have to get to the kid before Baba does or he’ll take that woman out for sure. For all we know, she may already be dead.”

“Bad deal all around,” Baldwin said. “You need to call the Homicide Division at the Vegas police department. They’ll be able to fill you in with the details on the witness.”

Gleason was already on the phone to the Las Vegas police as the sheriff and his deputies drove away, but Baldwin wasn’t upset about losing this one to the Feds. He and his men had dodged a bullet by not being in charge of that crime scene. The last thing he wanted to do was start digging into the business dealings of Anton Baba.

* * *

Detective Saldano was in the hospital lobby getting an update from Summers.

“We’ve been contacted by the FBI regarding the woman and kid. This whole incident has taken on a darker, more dangerous aspect.”

“How so?” Nick asked.

“Anton Baba is the father of the baby. They don’t know where the mother is for sure, but they assume she’s back in Baba’s possession. The two victims in the car fire were Feds, and the FBI has taken over the crime scene and the case.”

“Holy shit,” Nick muttered.

“Exactly. The Feds already took possession of the child from Social Services and are actively looking for the mother.”

“What about the biker who found the kid? The one who was shot?” Nick asked. “Are they going to protect her, too?”

“They say they will interview her when she is able to be interviewed. If she has nothing new to add to their case, they’re cutting her loose.”

Nick frowned.

“Baba won’t be that generous,” Nick said. “Her life is in danger, sir.”

Summers sighed.

“You’re probably right.”

“Are we going to put a guard on her? If they want her dead, they’ll come to the hospital and try and finish the job,” Nick said.

“I don’t have the manpower to put round-the-clock guards on her.”

Nick’s frown deepened.

“Sir, if the man who shot her comes to finish the job, maybe we could link him to Baba and take him out of circulation that way.”

“The criminal justice system has been trying to find a way to connect to that man and his crimes for years and hasn’t done it yet,” Summers said.

“There’s always a first time,” Nick said.

When his boss didn’t answer, he feared the PD was going to leave Quinn hanging, too, and then Summers spoke.

“I’ll get the guards set up. But once she leaves the hospital, she’s on her own. We do not have the budget to put someone in a safe house who has no real bearing on a homicide case that we’re not even working.”

“Thanks,” Nick said. “If it’s okay, I’ll stay here for the rest of the night. She went through a lot to get that little kid safe. I think we owe her, sir.”

“Agreed. And there will be an officer there to replace you by eight tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Nick said and disconnected.

His stride was long and hurried as he moved through the hospital lobby. By the time he got to the surgery wing, more than an hour had passed since he’d last seen the injured woman. He notified the nurses at the surgery desk that he was there on behalf of Quinn O’Meara and headed for the waiting room.

There was only one other person there when he walked in, a thirtysomething guy with curly black hair hanging well below his shoulders. He obviously spent more time in the gym than in the barbershop. The man looked up at Nick as he walked in, nodded and then looked back down at his phone.

Nick got a coffee from the coffee machine, a honey bun from the food dispenser, and sat back down to wait. He sent a text to his lieutenant to let him know he was on site and then opened the honey bun and took a bite.