In Protective Custody

“Whatever.” Max turned and headed for the elevator, praying that the baby hidden in the duffel continued to sleep until he got out of the hospital. He hoped no one looked too closely through the large gap in the duffel’s zipper he’d left open for air.

After he’d promised to take care of her son, Emily’s mood and condition had improved enough that her doctor and the baby’s pediatrician had both agreed to let her see her son. And Max’s sketchy plan began to take shape. He spoke to the pediatrician privately and convinced the man to sign for the baby’s discharge while the Rialtos attended Joe’s funeral.

During Emily’s visit with the discharged baby, they waited for his nephew to fall asleep. Now, careful not to jostle the boy in the vented bag, Max exited the medical center New Orleans natives fondly called Charity Hospital. He made his way across the divided street to the visitors’ parking garage.

Phase one of his mission complete, Max buckled his nephew in the car seat he’d bought on the way to the hospital that afternoon. When he slid behind the wheel of his Jeep Cherokee and cranked the engine, the radio blared from the rear speakers. Mick Jagger woke the sleeping baby, who tuned up and added his vocals to the Stones.

Max cringed and turned in the seat to try to comfort the infant. “Hey, easy, little guy.”

As he jiggled the baby’s seat, he spotted the Rialtos’ thug at the front door of the hospital. The man scanned the street then zeroed in on Max’s SUV. Reaching under his coat, the henchman started toward the parking garage. No doubt Mr. Thug kept something besides his wallet tucked inside his jacket.

“Hell!” Max had no time to do anything about the crying child. His first priority was getting out of Dodge. Fast. He might have the child with Emily’s permission, but the Rialtos made their own rules.

Max pulled out of the garage and darted into the evening traffic. Emily’s son continued to wail like a fire engine siren. The thought of the Rialtos’ armed guard on his heels kicked Max’s pulse up a notch. He zipped through a yellow light, anxious to put distance between himself and the gorilla at the hospital.

He thought of the wistful expression on Emily’s face as she’d kissed her son goodbye, and his throat clogged.

“I’ve done my part, Em. Now you fight, damn it!” He hated not being at her side. What if she got worse or…?

Don’t think that way. Visualize success. Make it happen. Wasn’t that what he told the kids he coached in the Pee Wee football league?

Max drew a deep breath and flexed his fingers on the steering wheel.

Focus. Focus.

But the baby’s cries reached a fervid pitch, and he couldn’t think, much less concentrate on the problems at hand. As he headed away from the hospital, he encountered a roadblock where a construction crew was fixing the street. A backlog of cars inched toward the detour.

Frustrated with his slow progress, Max zipped around a bus of tourists and turned down a side street. He crawled a few more blocks until he turned onto Canal Street headed toward the French Quarter. Snarled in traffic, Max flicked a glance to his rearview mirror. No sign of the armed henchman. But Max knew the thug hadn’t given up. He was still hunting him.

When a group of women dashed in front of him to catch one of the city’s famous streetcars, he stood on the brakes to avoid hitting them. The near miss sent an extra jolt of adrenaline through his already edgy system. By the time he turned on Baronne, headed toward the Crescent City Connection and his home in Belle Chasse, his nephew’s screams had completely frayed his nerves. What if the kid was in pain?

Remembering the pacifier he’d jammed in his pocket at the hospital, Max fished the little plastic device from his jeans and picked off the lint that clung to the nipple.

“Easy, little guy,” he crooned to the baby. “Here.” He twisted toward the backseat and fumbled to find the baby’s mouth. Tiny fists hit his hand as Max searched for his target. By now, the child’s screams could curdle blood.

He swerved to avoid a pedestrian who seemed more interested in the panhandling saxophone player on the corner than the traffic. Keeping an eye on the bumper in front of him, Max groped blindly across the baby’s face until he found his nephew’s mouth, opened wide in a deafening howl. The infant latched on to his finger and sucked hard.

“Try this instead.” He swapped the pacifier for his finger, and a blessed silence filled the car.

For about thirty seconds.

He heard the soft clunk when the pacifier fell out of the baby’s mouth, and Max braced himself.

His nephew let out an angry wail. Max groaned. Escaping the Rialtos’ thug no longer seemed his biggest problem. What if he never got the little banshee to stop crying?

Max could enter a burning house with confidence in his firefighting skill and training, but knowing he was in charge of a tiny, needy, noisy life scared him spitless. What if he did the wrong thing and hurt the kid? What if he didn’t get the hang of it the way a new father was supposed to? If he failed this time, he’d let two people down, Emily and her son.

Sighing, he turned toward the backseat and fumbled in the car seat for the lost pacifier. When his fingers closed around the cool plastic, relief zinged through his blood.

He stuck the device in the baby’s mouth and glanced back to the traffic—just as his Cherokee plowed into the back of a white Camry with a nauseating crunch.

More screeching tires. Then the jarring crunch of another car hitting him from behind.

Max muttered a scorching curse.

The driver of the Camry climbed out and glared at him.

And his nephew lost his pacifier again.

Laura Dalton winced as she watched the black Cherokee ram into the Camry. Right after that, a pickup truck smashed into the back of the Cherokee. The crunch of the collisions skittered through her system, shooting adrenaline through her veins. Heart thudding, she pulled onto a side street and climbed from her Honda on shaky legs to see if she could help.

Please don’t let anyone be hurt. She could handle all the baby barf and dirty diapers that her job at the day care center doled out, but the sight of blood sent her into a panic.

She scowled, realizing none of the other drivers who’d witnessed the accident had stopped to assist or give their statements to the cops.

But Laura knew too well what it was like to need someone yet have no one to turn to. She couldn’t easily turn her back when she saw a chance to help.

The driver of the Camry climbed out and scowled at his crumpled fender, but he seemed unharmed. One down. As she approached the scene, the driver of the Cherokee, a tall, good-looking man with jet black hair, got out and stepped to his back door. While he leaned in the backseat of his car, Laura made her way to the pickup where the driver had yet to emerge.

She knocked on the truck’s window, and the blond teenage girl at the wheel rolled down the window.

“Are you all right?” Laura asked, searching the teen’s pale face.

“I…yeah. Oh, God…my dad’s gonna kill me!” The girl buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“But you’re okay physically? You’re not hurt?”

“No. I’m fine…thanks.” The girl flashed her a weak smile.

Laura returned a relieved grin. “Just remind your dad what’s important. You’re safe. That’s what matters. I have a cell phone in my car if you need to call your parents.”

“Okay. Thanks.” The girl gave her another timid grin, flashing a set of braces.

The familiar howl of a baby in distress called Laura’s attention away from the teenager in the truck.

The Cherokee’s driver pulled an infant, still strapped in a baby carrier, out of his backseat and set the carrier on the ground beside the car. Images of an injured child flashed through Laura’s mind, chilling her blood. “Oh, no.”

She hurried over to the raven-haired man who hunkered over the car seat, fumbling to unfasten the baby from the straps.

“Is she hurt?” Laura asked.

“It’s a boy. And he’s okay. I think.” The man added an obscenity as he struggled with trembling hands to free the infant from the straps.

“Here. Let me.” She nudged the man aside and mashed the release button that freed the baby of the seat straps. The infant’s cries wrenched her heart. He was tiny, like a newborn, and his face had turned beet red from bawling.

The man raked a hand through his black hair, leaving the thick waves rumpled. Taking his son from her, he awkwardly put the infant on his shoulder and rubbed the baby’s back. “Thanks.”

“Glad to help.”

Deep worry lines etched the man’s face as he surveyed his crumpled bumper and scanned the gathering crowd. Obviously shaken by the accident, he patted the baby’s back harder and began pacing. “Easy, fella. You’ll be all right. Shh.”

The baby’s howls didn’t abate, and the louder the baby cried, the more agitated the father grew.

Laura couldn’t blame him. The infant’s shrieks had her edgy too. She hated hearing a child in distress. At the day care center, she was always the first worker rushing to soothe an upset child.

She remembered too well what it felt like to be young, scared and all alone. No one to comfort you, no one to dry your tears, no one who even noticed you were there.

She fell in step with the dark-haired father as he strode anxiously back and forth beside his wrecked Cherokee, muttering.

“If you’d like, I’ll hold your son while you talk to the police.”

The man came to an abrupt halt, and his head snapped up. He pinned her with a dark brown stare. “What?”

“I work with children, and I’m good at calming them down, if you want me to—”

“The cops. Damn!” He squeezed his eyes closed, scrunching his face in frustration.

Laura tipped her head and studied the father, who seemed even more disconcerted now. A thin sheen of perspiration dampened his forehead, and a palpable tension vibrated from his square jaw. His concern seemed ridiculously out of proportion to the circumstances.

“Is there a problem, sir? I’d be happy to help if—”

He spun to her with an abrupt jerk. “Where’s your car?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your car. I need it.” He tore his dark gaze away and glanced nervously around the accident scene.

“My car? Wh-why?”

The man’s odd behavior set her on edge. She backed away from him a step, only to have him grab her arm. His touch sent a strange jolt through her. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched her. The sensation of his strong, hot hand on her arm was overwhelming. He balanced the baby with one hand while his long fingers tightened around her upper arm. The first inkling of panic fluttered to life in her chest.

“I’ve gotta get out of here before—” He clamped his mouth shut and sighed. “Where’s your car?”

The baby now screamed so hard Laura feared he’d hurt himself. Her stomach bunched with worry for the infant’s well-being. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to hold your baby just for a minute? I really think I could calm him down.”

The father gave her a wary look then glanced down at the hollering infant. Finally he released her arm and thrust the tiny boy at her. “I’m sure not having any luck. Go ahead.”

Laura cradled the wiggling infant against her chest and rocked him gently. “How old is he? He’s so small.”

“Huh?” The man pulled out his wallet as he surveyed the area. “Oh, he’s…uh, just a couple days old. Listen, I need your help.” He seized her arm again and guided her farther away from the bustle of people examining the damage to the vehicles.

She shrugged out of his grip, glowering at him. “Would you stop grabbing me like that? What is your deal?”

The man wiped a palm on the leg of his jeans and took a deep breath. Then, raising a hand and lowering his voice, he explained over the baby’s continued howling, “My truck is trapped and probably not driveable. I need wheels. Fast.”

She narrowed her gaze on him, eyeing him with suspicion. “Why? What’s the hurry?”

He opened his mouth as if to answer but then closed it again. With another sigh, he fished his driver’s license and some small cards from his wallet. “It’s…the baby. I have to get him home. Quickly.” He stepped closer, and his expression reeked of desperation. But desperation over what? His own situation or the baby’s?

“Go on,” she prodded reluctantly.

“He’s…sick.” The man’s black eyebrows knitted in a frown. He glanced away, huffed then pinned her again with a pleading look. “He needs his medicine. That’s why he’s crying.”

Laura’s breath caught. “Medicine? Oh, my God…what—”

“Will you help us?”

“I…of course. But what about your car? The police haven’t written up the accident yet and—”

“I can’t wait around for the cops to get here. Don’t you hear him screaming? He needs his medicine. Now!”

“But the other drivers…” Indecision and apprehension swelled in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. When she hesitated, the man grunted and jabbed his wallet back in his rear pocket. With long-legged strides, he stalked over to the driver of the Camry and shoved a business card in the other man’s hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotta get the baby home. I’ll be in touch about the insurance. Are you hurt?”

When the Camry driver shook his head, the dark-haired man hustled over to the pickup and poked a card through the window to the teenager, too. He drilled a hard look on Laura as he returned. “No one’s hurt, and they have my contact numbers. Now can we go?”

The sounds of the baby’s wailing tore at her heart. What if the child really was sick, and he suffered because she wouldn’t help? How could she live with herself? Then again, how could she trust that this jittery-acting man was telling her the truth?

The man’s gaze froze on someone or something in the crowd, and his expression hardened. “Oh hell, he’s here! We’re outta time. Where is your car?”

His tone brooked no resistance.

“I…the Honda over there.” She tipped her head, directing his gaze across the intersection.

“Good. Let’s move!” With his fingers wrapped around her wrist, he grabbed the baby seat in his other hand and hustled her toward her Honda.

“Who did you see? Who’s here?” She stumbled to keep up with his long strides and struggled to keep a safe hold on the baby.

He cut a sharp glance toward her without slowing his pace. “Never mind. Just get us out of here!”

“I h-have a phone if you’d rather call your wife to have her bring the medicine here.” They reached the passenger side of her Accord, and he opened the back door. “That way you could take care of the paperwork for the accident—”

“No.” He put the baby’s car seat in the back then faced Laura. “That won’t work. My wife…isn’t home.”

When she made no move to get in, he opened the front door and pushed her toward the seat. “Get in! I’ll drive.”

“But—” Her legs bumped the frame of the car. She lost her balance, dropping clumsily into the passenger seat while clutching the baby to her chest. In the seconds it took her to gather her wits, the man ran around to the driver’s door.

A flash of panic crashed down on her. Everything was happening so fast. Too fast. She needed to think, to reason with him or… Get out. Take the baby and run.

But he’d already cranked the engine. With a squeal of her tires, they sped away.

Chapter 2

Laura grabbed the armrest to steady herself as her abductor took a corner too fast.

Abductor. The word rattled through her brain with an ominous ring. Was he really kidnapping her? Had he kidnapped the baby, too?

He didn’t seem to have a weapon. He’d never threatened her. But his edginess rattled her. That and his no-questions-asked bullying.

She studied the rigid set of his jaw. “A-aren’t you going to put the baby in the car seat?”

“Can’t take the time now.”

“But it’s not safe!”

He silenced her with a dark glare. “Just hold him for now and sit tight.”

As he hurtled them around another corner, she spotted her cell phone in the console under the radio. But how could she get it without alerting her abductor?

She felt the man’s eyes on her and glanced up just as his gaze shifted to the phone. She held her breath. Prayed.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he growled. Snatching the phone from the console, he jammed it in the map pocket of the driver’s door. Out of her reach.

Her stomach sank to her toes. So much for secretly dialing 911. Swallowing her disappointment and fear, she searched for another option.

She glanced down at the infant, the helpless little baby who still screeched for all he was worth. His tiny fingers had clamped around one of her long blond curls, so she gently worked to free her hair from the baby’s fist. When she cuddled him closer to her breast, an eerie prickle crept up her spine.

“This baby’s not really sick. Is he?” Her voice trembled, as did her hands, her stomach.

He met her gaze, and the hard determination setting his jaw softened. His coffee brown eyes held a measure of guilt and remorse, but he turned back to watch the road without answering.

Her thudding heartbeat counted the tense seconds. While the baby’s cries filled the dearth of conversation, she studied the man’s profile. Warring emotions played across his rugged features. A muscle jumped under his square, stubble-covered jaw. His narrow nose looked as though it had been broken once, leaving a slight bump near the bridge. Sweat trickled from a high forehead, dampening wisps of his thick black hair and leaving wet stains at the armpits of the blue golf shirt he wore with his jeans.

He caught her gaze again, and the intensity of his dark eyes unnerved her, accelerated her already rapid breathing.

“No. He’s not sick.” His tone was flat, grave.

His admission caught her off guard. She blinked her surprise, uncertain how to respond.

Turning away again, he squeezed the steering wheel.

While his confession spun her thoughts in a hundred directions, a maternal instinct surged inside her.

Protect the baby.

She drew the infant even closer to her body and eyed her kidnapper warily.

He gave her another quick look and muttered a curse. “Don’t look at me like that. I won’t hurt you.”

Laura raised one eyebrow skeptically to let him know what she thought of his promise. “Why should I believe you?”

He had the audacity to look offended.

“I wouldn’t—” He snapped his mouth shut without finishing.

“Did you kidnap this baby?”

He shot her an exasperated look. “No! Of course not!”

His defensiveness intrigued her. What was he hiding?

She studied the baby’s features, looking for similarities. Same dark hair, same narrow nose. But with newborns it was hard to tell.

The infant’s screams had tapered to mewling whines. She stroked his small pink face, and her heart melted like ice cream in the sun. She’d trained herself not to grow emotionally attached to the children at the day care, a self-defense mechanism she’d mastered growing up, shuffled from one foster family to another. Yet somehow this tiny life chipped at the walls she kept around her heart.

On the job, she could indulge her love for children without forming deep bonds. Emotional bonds served only to wound her when they were inevitably broken. She’d already suffered a lifetime of shattered relationships, broken promises, lost loved ones. Her aching soul could take no more. Yet that same painful childhood fueled a fierce protectiveness in her, a desire to see no other child suffer the same fear and isolation.

“Look, he belongs with me.” The man’s statement called her attention back to the problem at hand. His tone said he knew she needed convincing.

“Where’s your wife?”

The muscle in his cheek jumped again. “The baby’s mother is still in the hospital. She…she’s not doing well and—” His voice grew quiet, and his dark expression reflected too much emotion to be faked.

His obvious grief grabbed her and rattled the cage where she’d locked her own grim memories of loss. “I’m sorry.”

He acknowledged her sympathy with another lingering gaze and quick nod before turning his attention back to the road.

Laura swallowed hard, shoving down the painful specter of grief that had shadowed her throughout her childhood, followed her from one foster home to the next.

The car bounced over a large pothole, and she turned her gaze to the scenery out her window. She didn’t recognize anything about the cypress-dotted flatlands and the isolated road they traveled.

Apprehension prickled her neck again. “Where are we?”

“Near my house.”

“Could you be more specific?”

He started to answer but then seemed to reconsider. “Once you drop me off, you’ll just get back on this road and follow it out the way we came, until you reach the highway into town. It’s simple.”

Laura gaped at him. “You mean you’re letting me go?”

“Of course I am.” He scowled at her. “I hadn’t wanted to involve you at all, hadn’t wanted to come back to my house. But with my Jeep trapped at the accident, I didn’t have a choice.” He exhaled sharply. “I have an old truck at home I can use. Once you drop me off, you’ll be free to go. With my gratitude.”

The news should have elated her. Instead, she puzzled over his strange behavior. If the baby wasn’t really sick, then why the hurry? “You know that leaving the scene of an accident is against the law, don’t you?”

He winced. “Yeah, I know. But I couldn’t hang out until—” Again he snapped his mouth closed and frowned.

“Until?”

“Never mind.”

“You’ve already admitted the baby’s not sick. So what had you spooked? You said, ‘He’s here.’ Who is he?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I think considering that you dragged me into—”

“Hey! Do you hear that?”

Laura paused and listened. For what, she wasn’t sure. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly. He quit crying.” The man craned his neck to see the baby better.

Glancing down, she found the infant in her arms sleeping with his thumb in his mouth. Her heart squeezed then expanded. Tears puddled in her eyes. Maternal yearnings clambered over dark memories and defensive walls.

“He’s so sweet,” she whispered. Her fierce protective instinct reared its head again with a vengeance, plucking at her conscience and warming her soul. The little babe in her arms couldn’t do a thing for himself, couldn’t be more precious if he were her own child. Painful longing twisted inside her.

Drawing a deep breath, she shook off the bout of sentimentalism. Don’t get attached. In a minute, you’ll hand him to his father and be on your way. No looking back. As always.

“Thank you.” The deep male voice roused her from her tangential thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“For your help with the baby. For lending me your car—”

“Lending my car? Is that what I did? Seems to me you gave me no choice.”

A sheepish grin tugged the corner of his mouth as he slowed to turn in at a gravel driveway. “Sorry if I bullied you. I really do appreciate your help.”

Laura took in the ranch-style house nestled in a copse of cypress trees. The red brick and white siding structure had a hominess about it that appealed to her.

He pulled to the back of the house next to a battered pickup truck loaded with split firewood. Though neatly kept, the lawn lacked much landscaping other than live oak and cypress trees which littered the ground with needles. Rusted wrought-iron lawn chairs sat on his back porch next to a well-used grill.

Certainly the home didn’t have the appearance of a criminal hideaway. Was that what she’d been expecting?

“Well, this is home. Thanks again for your help.” He gave her another grin, this one more rakish, and her pulse stumbled.

While he climbed out and circled the car to the passenger door, she gazed down at the baby. What would happen to him?