“The blizzard will keep anybody from searching for us.”

When she turned toward him, he didn’t back away.

“I wanted you to know. I’m one of the good guys, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

She’d heard that promise before. Other men had assured her that they wouldn’t break her heart. The smart thing would be to step away, to put some distance between them. But they were awfully close. And he was awfully good looking.

In spite of her resolution to steer clear of dangerous men, gently, she reached up and rested her hand on his cheek. His stubble bristled under her fingers. Electricity crackled between them.

His hand clasped her waist as his head lowered. His lips were firm. He used exactly the right amount of pressure for a perfect kiss.

She pulled away from him and opened her eyes. His smile was warm. His eyes, inviting. Perfect! Of course! Guys like Cole—men who lived on the edge—made the best lovers.

“That was good,” she said.

“I can do better.”

About the Author

Though born in Chicago and raised in LA, CASSIE MILES has lived in Colorado long enough to be considered a semi-native. The first home she owned was a log cabin in the mountains overlooking Elk Creek, with a thirty-mile commute to her work at the Denver Post.

After raising two daughters and cooking tons of macaroni and cheese for her family, Cassie is trying to be more adventurous in her culinary efforts. Ceviche, anyone? She’s discovered that almost anything tastes better with wine. When she’s not plotting Intrigue books, Cassie likes to hang out at the Denver Botanical Gardens near her high-rise home.

Mountain

Midwife

Cassie Miles

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Here’s to my buddy, Cheryl.

And, as always, to Rick.

Chapter One

Some babies are yanked into the world, kicking and screaming. Others gasp. Others fling open their little arms and grab. Every infant is unique. Every birth, a miracle.

Rachel Devon loved being a midwife.

She smiled down at the newborn swaddled in her arms. The baby girl—only two hours old—stared at the winter sunlight outside the cabin window. What would she be when she grew up? Where would she travel? Would she find love? Good luck with that, sweet girl. I’m still looking.

Returning to the brass bed where the mom lay in a state of euphoric exhaustion, Rachel announced, “She’s seven pounds, six ounces.”

“Totally healthy? Nothing to worry about?”

“A nine-point-five on the Apgar scale. You did good, Sarah.”

“We did. You and me and Jim and …” Sarah frowned. “We still haven’t decided on the baby’s name.”

Voices rose from the downstairs of the two-story log house near Shadow Mountain Lake. Moments ago, someone else had arrived, and Rachel hoped the visitor hadn’t blocked her van in the circular driveway. After guiding Sarah through five hours of labor, aiding in the actual birth and taking another two hours with cleanup and postpartum instruction, Rachel was anxious to get home. “It’s time for me to go. Should I invite whoever is downstairs to come up here?”

“Jim’s mother.” Sarah pushed her hair—still damp from the shower—off her forehead. “I’d like a bit more time alone. Would you mind introducing the baby to her grandma?”

“My pleasure. If you need anything over the next few days, call the Rocky Mountain Women’s Clinic. I’ll be on vacation, but somebody can help you. And if you really need to talk to me, I can be reached.”

Sarah offered a tired smile. “I apologize in advance for anything Jim’s mother might say.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Let’s just say there was a reason we didn’t want Katherine here during labor.”

Rachel descended the staircase and handed the baby girl to her grandmother, who had positioned herself in a rocking chair beside the moss rock fireplace. With her bright red hair and sleek figure, Katherine seemed too young to be a granny.

After a moment of nuzzling the baby, she shot Rachel a glare. “I wasn’t in favor of this, you know. In my day, this wasn’t the way we had babies.”

Really? In your day, were babies delivered by stork?

Katherine continued, “Sarah should have been in a hospital. What if there had been complications?”

“Everything was perfect.” Jim Loughlin reached down and fondly stroked his baby’s rosy cheek. His hands were huge. A big, muscular guy, Jim was a deputy with the Grand County sheriff’s department. “We wanted a home birth, and Rachel had everything under control.”

Skeptically, Katherine looked her up and down. “I’m sorry, dear, but you’re so young.”

“Thirty-one,” Rachel said.

“Oh my, I would have guessed eight years younger. The pixie hairdo is very flattering with your dark hair.”

Her age and her hairstyle had nothing to do with her qualifications, and Rachel was too tired to be tactful. “If there had been complications, I would have been prepared. My training as a certified nurse-midwife is the equivalent of a master’s degree in nursing. Plus, I was an EMT and ambulance driver. I’m a real good person to have around in any sort of medical emergency.”

Katherine didn’t give up. “Have you ever lost a patient?”

“Not as a midwife.” A familiar ache tightened her gut. Rescuing accident victims was a whole other story—one she avoided thinking about.

“Leave Rachel alone,” Jim said. “We have something else to worry about. The baby’s name. Which do you like? Caitlyn, Chloe or Cameron?”

His mother sat up straight. “Katherine is a nice name. Maybe she’ll have red hair like me.”

Rachel eased her way toward the door. Her work here was done. “I’m going to grab my coat and head out.”

Jim rushed over and enveloped her in a bear hug. “We love you, Rachel.”

“Back at you.”

This had been a satisfying home birth—one she would remember with pleasure. Midwifery was so much happier than emergency medicine. She remembered Katherine’s question. Have you ever lost a patient? Though she knew that not everyone was meant to survive, her memories of victims she couldn’t save haunted her.

As she stepped outside onto the porch, she turned up the fur-lined collar of her subzero parka. Vagrant snowflakes melted as they hit her cheeks. She’d already brushed the snow off the windshield and repacked her equipment in the back of the panel van with the Rocky Mountain Women’s Clinic logo on the side. Ready to roll, Rachel got behind the steering wheel and turned on the windshield wipers.

Heavy snow clouds had begun to blot out the sun. The weatherman was predicting a blizzard starting tonight or tomorrow morning. She wanted to hurry home to her condo in Granby, about forty-five minutes away. Skirting around Katherine’s SUV, she drove carefully down the steep driveway to a two-lane road that hadn’t been plowed since early this morning. There were other tire tracks in the snow, but not many.

After a sharp left, she drove a couple hundred yards to a stop sign and feathered the brakes until she came to a complete stop.

From the back of the van, she heard a noise. Something loose rattling around? She turned to look. A man in a black leather jacket and a ski mask moved forward. He pressed the nose of his gun against her neck.

“Do as I say,” he growled, “and you won’t be hurt.”

“What do you want?”

“You. We need a baby doctor.”

A second man, also masked, lurked behind him in her van.

The cold muzzle of the gun pushed against her bare skin. The metallic stink of cordite rose to her nostrils. This weapon had been recently fired.

“Get out of your seat,” he ordered. “I’m driving.”

Fighting panic, she gripped the steering wheel. “It’s my van. I’ll drive. Just tell me where we’re going.”

From the back, she heard a grumble. “We don’t have time for this.”

The man with the gun reached forward and engaged the emergency brake. “There’s a woman in labor who needs you. Are you going to turn your back on her?”

“No,” she said hesitantly.

“I don’t want you to know where we’re going. Understand? That’s why you can’t drive.”

“All right. I’ll sit in the back.” Her van was stocked with a number of medical supplies that could be used as weapons—scalpels, scissors, a heavy oxygen tank. “I’ll do what you say. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Get in the passenger seat.”

Still thinking about escape, she unfastened her seat belt and changed seats. Her purse was on the floor. If she could get her hands on her cell phone, she could call for help.

The man with the gun climbed into the driver’s seat. She noticed that his jeans were stained with blood.

His partner took his place between the seats. Roughly, he grabbed her hands and clicked on a set of handcuffs. Using a bandage from her own supplies, he blindfolded her.

The van lurched forward. Only a moment later, they stopped. The rear door opened and slammed shut. She assumed that the second man had left. Now might be her best chance to escape; she was still close enough to the cabin to run back there. Jim was a deputy and would know how to help her.

She twisted in the passenger seat. Before her fingers touched the door handle, the man in the driver’s seat pulled her shoulders back and wrapped the seat belt across her chest, neatly and effectively securing her into place.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

He said nothing. The van was in motion again.

She warned, “You won’t get away with this. There are people who will come after me.”

He remained silent, and her tension grew. She’d been lying about people looking for her. Tomorrow was the first day of a week vacation and she’d already called in with the information about Jim and Sarah’s baby. Rachel lived alone; nobody would miss her for a while.

The blindfold made her claustrophobic, but if she looked down her nose, she could see her hands, cuffed in her lap. Helpless. Her only weapon was her voice.

She knew that it was important to humanize herself to her captor. If he saw her as a person, he’d be less likely to hurt her. At least, that was what the police advised for victims of kidnap. Am I a victim? Damn, she hoped not.

An adrenaline rush hyped her heart rate, but she kept her voice calm. “Please tell me your name.”

“It’s Cole,” he said.

“Cole,” she repeated. “And your friend?”

“Frank.”

Monosyllables didn’t exactly count as a conversation, but it was something. “Listen, Cole. These cuffs are hurting my wrists. I’d really appreciate if you could take them off. I promise I won’t cause trouble.”

“The cuffs stay. And the blindfold.”

“Please, Cole. You said you didn’t want to hurt me.”

Though she couldn’t see him, she felt him staring at her.

“There’s only one thing you need to know,” he said. “There’s a pregnant woman who needs you. Without your help, she and her baby will die.”

As soon as he spoke, she realized that escape wasn’t an option. No matter how much she wanted to run, she couldn’t refuse to help. The fight went out of her. Her eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold. More than being afraid for her own safety, she feared for the unknown woman and her unborn child.

COLE MCCLURE concentrated on the taillights of Frank Loeb’s car. The route to their hideout was unfamiliar to him and complicated by a couple of switchbacks; he didn’t want to waste time getting lost.

The decision to track down the midwife had been his. It was obvious that Penny wasn’t going to make it without a hell of a lot more medical expertise than he or any of the other three men could provide.

Cole glanced at the blindfolded woman in the passenger seat. Her posture erect, she sat as still as a statue. Her fortitude impressed him. When he held the gun on her, she hadn’t burst into tears or pleaded. A sensible woman, he thought. Too bad he couldn’t explain to her that he was one of the good guys.

She cleared her throat. “Has the mother been having contractions?”

“Yes.”

“How far apart?”

“It’s hard to tell. She was shot in the left thigh and has been in pain.”

She couldn’t see through the blindfold, but her head turned toward him. “Shot?”

“A flesh wound. The bullet went straight through, but she lost blood.”

“She needs a hospital, access to a surgeon, transfusions. My God, her body is probably in shock.”

Cole couldn’t have agreed more. “She won’t let us take her to a doctor.”

“You could make her go. You said she was weak.”

“If she turns herself in at the hospital, she won’t be released. Penny doesn’t want to raise her baby in jail. Can you understand that, Rachel?”

“How do you know my name?”

In spite of her self-possessed attitude, he heard a note of alarm in her voice. He didn’t want to reveal more information than necessary, but she deserved an explanation.

“When I realized that we needed a midwife, I called the women’s clinic and pretended to want a consultation with a midwife. They gave me your name and told me that you were with a woman in labor.”

“But they wouldn’t tell you the patient’s name,” Rachel said. “That’s a breach of confidentiality.”

“Frank hacked their computer.” The big thug had a sophisticated skill set that almost made up for his tendency toward sadism. “After that, finding the address was easy.”

When they discovered that Rachel had been sent to the home of Sarah and Jim Loughlin, it seemed like luck was finally on Cole’s side. The cabin was only ten miles away from their hideout.

Frank Loeb had wanted to charge inside with guns blazing, but Cole convinced him it was better to move with subtlety and caution. Every law enforcement man and woman in the state of Colorado was already on the lookout for them. They didn’t need more attention.

“You’re the casino robbers,” she said.

“I wish you hadn’t figured that out.”

“I’d be an idiot not to,” she said. “It’s all over the news. How much did you get away with? A hundred thousand dollars?”

Not even half that amount. “If you’re smart, you won’t mention the casino again.”

He regretted dragging her into this situation. If Rachel could identify them, she was a threat. There was no way the others would release her unharmed.

Chapter Two

Though the blindfold prevented Rachel from seeing where they were going, the drive had taken less than twenty minutes. She knew they were still in the vicinity of Shadow Mountain Lake, still in Grand County. If she could figure out her location, she might somehow get a message to Jim, and he could coordinate her rescue through the sheriff’s department.

The van door opened, and Cole took her arm, guiding her as she stumbled up a wood staircase. Looking down under the edge of the blindfold, she saw it had been partially cleared of snow. The porch was several paces across; this had to be a large house or a lodge.

She heard the front door open and felt a gush of warmth from inside. A man ordered, “Get the hell in here. Fast.”

“What’s the problem?” Cole asked.

“It’s Penny. She’s got a gun.”

Rachel stifled a hysterical urge to laugh. Penny had to be every man’s worst nightmare: a woman in labor with a firearm.

Inside the house, Cole held her arm and marched her across the room. He tapped on a door. “Penny? I’m coming in. I brought a midwife to help you.”

As Rachel stepped into the bedroom, she was struck by a miasma of floral perfume, antiseptic and sweat. Cole wasted no time in removing the blindfold and the handcuffs.

From the bed, Penny stared at her with hollow eyes smeared with makeup. Her skinny arm trembled with the effort of holding a revolver that looked as big as a canon. A flimsy nightgown covered her swollen breasts and ripe belly, but her pale legs were bare. The dressing on her thigh wound was bloodstained.

“I don’t want drugs,” Penny rasped. “This baby is going to be born healthy. Hear me?”

Rachel nodded. “Can I come closer?”

“Why?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to help you have this baby.”

“First things first,” Cole said. “Give me the gun.”

“No way.” Penny’s breathing became more rapid. Her lips pulled back as she gritted her teeth. Her eyes squeezed shut.

Even wearing the ski mask, Cole looked nervous. “What’s wrong?”

“A contraction,” Rachel said.

A sob choked through Penny’s lips. Still clutching the gun, she threw her head back, fighting the pain with every muscle in her body. She stayed that way for several seconds. Instead of a scream, she exhaled a gasp. “Damn it. This is going to get worse, isn’t it?”

“Here’s the thing about natural childbirth,” Rachel said as she moved closer to the bed. “It’s important for you to be comfortable and relaxed. My name is Rachel, by the way. How far apart are the contractions?”

“I’m not sure. Eight or ten minutes.”

“First baby?”

“Yes.”

Experience told Rachel that Penny wasn’t anywhere near the final stages of labor. They probably had several more hours to look forward to. “Can I take a look at that wound on your leg?”

“Whatever.”

Rachel sat on the bed beside her and gently pulled the bandage back. In her work as an EMT, she’d dealt with gunshot wounds before. She could tell that the bullet had entered the back of Penny’s leg—probably as she was running away—and exited through the front. The torn flesh was clumsily sutured and caked with dried blood. “It doesn’t appear to be infected. Can you walk on it?”

Defiantly, Penny said, “Damn right I can.”

“I’d like you to walk into the bathroom and take a bath. Treat yourself to a nice, long soak.”

“I don’t need pampering.” Her raccoon eyes were fierce. “I can take the pain.”

Rachel looked away from the gun barrel that was only inches from her cheek. She didn’t like Penny, didn’t like that she was a criminal on the run and definitely didn’t like her attitude. But this woman was her patient now, and Rachel’s goal was a successful delivery.

“I’m sure you’re tough as nails, Penny.” Rachel stood and stepped away from the bed. “But this isn’t about you. It’s about your baby. You need to conserve your strength so you’re ready to push when the time comes.”

Cole approached the opposite side of the bed. “Listen to her, Penny.”

“Fine. I’ll take a bath.”

Rachel went to the open door to the adjoining bathroom. As she started the water in the tub, she peered through a large casement window, searching for landmarks that would give her a clue to their location. All she saw was rocks and trees with snow-laden boughs.

Penny hobbled into the bathroom, using Cole’s arm for support. As he guided her through the doorway, he deftly took the revolver from her hand.

“Hey,” she protested.

“If you need it, I’ll give it back.”

Hoping to distract her, Rachel pointed to the swirling water. “Do you need help getting undressed?”

Penny glared at both of them. “Get out.”

Before she left, Rachel instructed, “Leave the door unlocked so we can respond if you need help.”

With Penny disarmed and bathing, Rachel turned to Cole. “I need fresh bedding and something comfortable for her to wear. It’d be nice to have some soft music.”

“None of these procedures are medical,” he said.

She leaned toward him and lowered her voice so Penny couldn’t hear from the bathroom. “If I’d come in here and wrenched her knees apart for a vaginal exam, she would’ve blown my head off.”

He blinked. His eyes were the only part of his face visible. “I guess you know what you’re doing.”

“In the back of my van, there are three cases and an oxygen tank. Bring all the equipment in here.” She stripped the sheets off the bed. “And you can start boiling water.”

“Hot water? Like in the frontier movies?”

“It’s for tea,” she said. “Raspberry leaf tea.”

Instead of leaving her alone in the bedroom, he opened the door and barked orders. She tried to see beyond him, to figure out how many others were in the house. Not that it mattered. Even if Rachel could escape, she wouldn’t leave Penny until she knew mother and baby were safe.

She went to the bathroom and opened the door a crack. “Penny, are you all right?”

Grudgingly, she said, “The water feels good.”

“Some women choose to give birth in the tub.”

“Naked? Forget it.” Her tone had shifted from maniacal to something resembling cooperation. “Is there something else I should do? Some kind of exercise?”

Her change in attitude boded well. A woman in labor needed to be able to trust the people around her. Giving birth wasn’t a battle; it was a process.

“Relax,” Rachel said. “Take your time. Wash your hair.”

In the bedroom, Cole thrust the fresh sheets toward her. “Here you go.”

“Would you help me make the bed?”

He went to the opposite side and unfolded the fitted bottom sheet of soft lavender cotton. He’d taken off his jacket and was wearing an untucked flannel shirt over a long-sleeved white thermal undershirt and jeans with splotches of blood on the thigh.

She pulled the sheet toward her side of the bed. “We’re probably going to be here for hours. You might as well take off that stupid mask.”

He straightened to his full height—a couple of inches over six feet—and stared for a moment before he peeled off the black knit mask and ran his fingers through his shaggy, brown hair.

Some women would have considered him handsome with his high cheekbones, firm chin and deep-set eyes of cognac brown. His jaw was rough with stubble that looked almost fashionable, and his smile was dazzling. “You’re staring, Rachel. Memorizing my face?”

“Don’t need to,” she shot back. “I’m sure there are plenty of pictures of you on ‘Wanted’ posters.”

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Apart from kidnapping me?”

“I won’t apologize for that. Penny needs you.”

Rather than answering her challenge, he had appealed to her better instincts. Cole was smooth, all right. Probably a con man as well as a robber. Unfortunately, she had a bad habit of falling for dangerous men. Not this time.

“Don’t bother being charming,” she said. “I’m going to need your help with Penny, but I don’t like you, Cole. I don’t trust a single word that comes out of your mouth.”

He grinned. “You think I’m charming.”

Jerk! As she smoothed the sheets, she asked, “Which one of the men out there is the father of Penny’s baby?”

“None of us.”

Of course not. That would be too easy. “Can he be reached?”

“We’re not on vacation here. This is a hideout. We don’t need to invite visitors.”

But this was a nice house—not a shack in the woods. Finding this supposed “hideout” that happened to be conveniently vacant was too much of a coincidence. “You must have planned to come here.”

“Hell, no. We were supposed to be in Salt Lake City by now. When Penny went into labor, we had to stop. The house belongs to someone she knows.”

The fact that Penny had contacts in this area might come in handy. Rachel needed to keep her ears and eyes open, to gather every bit of information that she could. There was no telling what might be useful.

By the time Penny got out of the tub, Rachel had transformed the bedroom into a clean, inviting space using supplies from her van. The bedding was fresh. A healing fragrance of eucalyptus and pine wafted from an herbal scent diffuser. Native American flute music rose from a CD player.

Before Penny got into bed, Rachel replaced the dressings on her leg wound, using an antiseptic salve to ease the pain. In her work as a nurse-midwife, she leavened various herbal and homeopathic methods with standard medical procedure. Basically, she did whatever worked.

Though Penny remained diffident, she looked young and vulnerable with the makeup washed off her face. Mostly, she seemed tired. The stress of labor and the trauma of being shot had taken their toll.

Rachel took her blood pressure, and she wasn’t surprised that it was low. Penny’s pulse was jumpy and weak.

When her next contraction hit, Rachel talked her through it. “You don’t have to tough it out. If you need the release of yelling—”

“No,” she snapped. “I’m not giving those bastards the satisfaction of hearing me scream.”

Apparently, she was making up for her weakened physical condition with a powerful hostility. Rachel asked, “Should I send Cole out of the room while I do the vaginal exam?”

“Yes.”

He was quick to leave. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Alone with Penny, Rachel checked the cervix. Dilation was already at seven centimeters. This baby could be coming sooner than she’d thought. “You’re doing a good job,” she encouraged. “It won’t be too much longer.”

“Is my baby okay?”

“Let’s check it out.”

Usually, there was an implied trust between midwife and mom, but this situation was anything but usual. As Rachel hooked up the fetal monitor, she tried to be conversational. “When is your due date?”

“Two days from now.”

“That’s good. You carried to full term.” At least, there shouldn’t be the problems associated with premature birth. “Is there anything I ought to know about? Any special problems during your pregnancy?”

“I got fat.”

Rachel did a double take before she realized Penny was joking. “Are you from around here?”

“We lived in Grand Lake for a while. I went to high school in Granby.”

“That’s where I live,” Rachel said. “Is your family still in Grand Lake?”

“It’s just me and my mom. My dad left when I was little. I never missed having him around.” She touched her necklace and rubbed her thumb over the shiny black pearl. “Mom gave me this. It’s her namesake—Pearl. She lives in Denver, but she’s house-sitting for a friend in Grand Lake.”

They weren’t too far from there. Grand Lake was a small village—not much more than a main street of shops and lodging for tourists visiting the scenic lakeside. “Should I try to contact your mother?”

“Oh. My. God.” Penny rolled her eyes. “If my mom knew what I was up to, she’d kill me.”

Her jaw clenched, and Rachel talked her through the contraction. Penny must have had some Lamaze training because she knew the breathing techniques for dealing with the pain.

When she settled back against the pillows, she said, “If anything happens to me, I want my mom to have my baby.”

“Not the father?”

“Mom’s better.” She chewed her lower lip. “She’ll be a good grandma if I’m not around.”

Considering a premature death wasn’t the best way to go into labor. Rachel preferred to keep the mood upbeat and positive. “You’re doing fine. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Do you believe in premonitions? Like stuff with tarot cards and crystal balls?”

“Not really.”

“My friend Jenna did a reading for me. Hey, maybe you know her. She lives in Granby, too. Jenna Cambridge?”

“The name isn’t familiar.”

“She’s kind of quiet. Doesn’t go out much,” Penny said. “Every time I visit her, I try to fix her up. But she’s stuck on some guy who dumped her a long time ago. What a waste! Everybody falls. The trick is to get back on the bicycle.”

Though Rachel wasn’t prone to taking advice from a pregnant criminal who didn’t trust the father of her baby, she had to admit that Penny made a good point. “Doesn’t do any good to sit around feeling down on yourself.”

“Exactly.” She threw up her hands. “Anyway, Jenna read my cards and told me that something bad was going to happen. My old life would be torn asunder. Those were her words. And she drew the death card.”

Her friend Jenna sounded like a real peach. Pregnant women were stressed enough without dire warnings. “The death card could mean a change in your life. Like becoming a mom.”

“Maybe you’re right. I have changed. I took real good care of myself all through the pregnancy. No booze. No cigs. I did everything right.”

Except robbing a casino. Rachel finished hooking up the monitor and read the electronic blips. “Your baby’s heartbeat is strong and steady.”

When Cole returned with the raspberry tea, Rachel moved into the familiar pattern of labor—a combination of her own expertise and the mother’s natural instincts. Needing to move, Penny got out of the bed a couple of times and paced. When she complained of back pain, Cole volunteered to massage. His strong hands provided Penny with relief. He was turning out to be an excellent helper—uncomplaining and quick to follow her instructions.

When the urge to push came, Penny screamed for the first time. And she let go with a string of curses. Though Rachel had pretty much heard it all, she was surprised by the depth and variety of profanity from such a tiny woman.

Cole looked panicked. “Is this normal?”

“The pushing? Or the I-hate-men tirade?”

“Both.”

“Very typical. I bet you’re glad you took the gun away.”

“Hell, yes.”

A mere two hours after Rachel had arrived at the house, Penny gave birth to an average-sized baby girl with a healthy set of lungs.

Though Rachel had participated in well over two hundred births, this moment never failed to amaze her. The emergence of new life gave meaning to all existence.

Postpartum was also a time that required special attention on the part of the midwife. Penny was leaking blood onto the rubber sheet they’d spread across the bed. Hemorrhage was always a danger.

Rachel held the newborn toward Cole. “Take the baby. I need to deal with Penny.”

Dumbstruck, he held the wriggling infant close to his chest. His gaze met hers. In his eyes, she saw a reflection of her own wonderment, and she appreciated his honest reverence for the miracle of life. For a tough guy, he was sensitive.

Her focus right now was on the mother. Rachel urged, “You need to push again.”

“No way.” With a sob, Penny covered her eyes with her forearm. “I can’t.”

She had to expel the afterbirth. As Rachel massaged the uterus, she felt the muscles contract, naturally doing what was necessary. The placenta slipped out. Gradually, the bleeding slowed and stopped.

Cole stood behind her shoulder, watching with concern. “Is she going to be okay?”

“They both are.”

Penny forced herself into a sitting position with pillows behind her back. “I want my baby.”

With Cole’s help, Rachel clipped the cord, washed the infant and cleared her nose of mucus. The rest of the cleanup could wait. She settled the new baby on Penny’s breast.

As mother and child cooed to each other, she turned toward Cole in time to see him swipe away a tear. Turning away, he said, “I’ll tell the others.”

“Whoa, there. You’re not leaving me with all the mess to clean up.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Rachel sank into a chair beside the bed and watched the bonding of mother and child. Though Penny hadn’t seemed the least bit maternal, her expression was serene and gentle.

“Do you have a name?” Rachel asked.

“Goldie. She’s my golden child.”

From the other room, she heard the men arguing loudly. Catching bits of their conversation, Rachel got the idea that they were tired of waiting around. Bad news for her.

When the gang was on the run again, they had no further need for a midwife. She was afraid to think of what might happen next.

Chapter Three

In the bedroom, Cole stood at the window and looked out into a deep, dark forest. Fresh snow piled up on the sill. He could hardly believe that he was considering an escape into that freezing darkness. He lived in L.A., where his only contact with snow was the occasional snowboarding trip to Big Bear Lake. He hated the cold.

A month ago, when the FBI office in Denver tapped him for this undercover assignment, he’d tried to wriggle out of it. But they’d needed an agent who was an unfamiliar face in the western states. The operating theory was that someone inside the FBI was connected to the spree of casino and bank robberies.

He stepped away from the window and began repacking Rachel’s medical equipment in the cases from her van. Both of the women were in the bathroom, chatting about benefits of breast feeding and how to use the pump. As he eavesdropped, he marveled at how normal their conversation sounded. For the moment, Penny wasn’t a hardened criminal and Rachel wasn’t a kidnap victim. They were just two women, talking about babies.

And he was just an average guy—shocked and amazed by the mysteries of childbirth. He didn’t have words to describe how he’d felt when Goldie was born. He forgot where he was and why he was there. Watching the newborn take her first breath had amazed him. Her cry was the voice of an angel. Pure and innocent.

In that moment, he wanted to protect Penny instead of taking her into FBI custody.

And then there was Rachel. Slender but muscular, she moved with a natural grace. Her short, dark hair made her blue eyes look huge, even though she wasn’t wearing any makeup. He felt guilty as hell for dragging her into this mess. Top priority for him was to make sure Rachel escaped unharmed.

From the bathroom, he overheard her say, “Your body needs time to recover, Penny. You should spend time in bed, relaxing.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Will the men agree to let you sleep tonight?”

“They’ll do what I say,” Penny said airily. “They can’t leave me behind.”

“Why not?” Rachel asked.

“Because I’m the only one who knows where the money is hidden.”

Cole feared that her confidence might be misplaced. Frank and the other two were anxious to get going. No doubt, they could force Penny to tell them about the stash from five different robberies in three states.

Rachel seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “What if they threaten you?”

“They wouldn’t dare. My baby’s father is the head honcho. The big boss. If anybody hurts me, they’ll answer to him.”

Cole held his breath. Say his name, Penny. He needed to know the identity of the criminal mastermind who controlled this gang and at least five others. They referred to him as Baron, and he was famous for taking bloody revenge on those who betrayed him. Cole’s reason for joining this gang of misfits was to infiltrate the upper levels of the organization and get evidence that could be used against Baron.

Rachel asked, “Does he know about Goldie?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you all about Baron, about how we met. Damn, Rachel. You should learn to pay attention.”

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“He loves me. After this job, he promised to take me home with him, to raise our baby.”

“Is that what you want?”

“You bet it is.” Penny giggled. “Want to know a secret? A little while ago, I called Baron and told him about Goldie. He’s coming here. He ought to be here any minute.”

Not good news. Cole might have been able to convince the others in the gang to release Rachel. These guys weren’t killers, except for Frank. Baron was a different story; he wouldn’t leave a witness alive.

From the bathroom, he heard Rachel ask, “How does he know where you are? Cole said this house wasn’t a scheduled stop.”

“Simple,” Penny replied. “This is Baron’s house.”

That was all Cole needed to hear. He could find Baron’s 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 forest. Behind them, gunfire exploded. Anybody living within a mile of this house had to be aware that something terrible was happening. The police would have to respond.

Crouched behind a snow-covered boulder, Cole paused and looked back. “We’re leaving tracks. They won’t have any trouble following us. We need to go faster.”

Her survival instinct was strong. She wanted to make a getaway, but there was something else at stake. “We can’t leave Penny here. Or the baby.”

A sliver of moonlight through clouds illuminated his face. In his eyes, she saw a struggle between protecting the innocent and saving his own butt. “Damn it, Rachel. You’re right.”

Sadly, she said, “I know.”

They retraced their steps to the house. Instead of using the door, Cole went to the rear of the house. He stopped outside a window. Inside, she saw the bathroom where she and Penny had been talking only a little while ago.

He dug into his pocket, took out her car keys and handed them to her. “If anything happens to me, get the hell out of here. Hide in the forest until you can get back to the garage.”

The car keys literally opened the door to her escape. Her purse was in the van. And her cell phone.

When he shoved the casement window open, she said, “All those windows were latched.”

“I opened it hours ago,” he said. “I expected to be escaping from the inside out. Not breaking in.”

Walking into a shoot-out was insanity. But the alternative was worse. She couldn’t leave a helpless newborn to the mercy of these violent men.

Cole slipped through the window, and she got in position to follow.

“No,” he said. “Stay here.”

There wasn’t time to argue. He needed her help in handling Penny and the baby. She hoisted herself up and over the sill.

As soon as she was inside, she heard the baby crying. In the bedroom, Cole knelt beside Penny’s body on the floor. She’d been shot in the chest. Her open eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

Rachel reached past Cole to feel Penny’s throat for a pulse. Her skin was still warm, but her heart had stopped. There was nothing. Not even a flutter. Penny was gone. After her heroic struggle to bring her baby into the world, she wouldn’t live to see her child grow. Fate was cruel. Unfair. Oh, God, this is so wrong.

From the front of the house, the gun battle continued, but all she heard was the baby’s cries. If it was the last thing she ever did, Rachel would rescue Goldie. Moving with purpose, she took the baby sling from the backpack. When she snuggled Goldie into the carrier, the infant’s cries modified to a low whimpering.

Cole grabbed the backpack filled with baby supplies. They went through the bathroom window into the forest.

They were only a few steps into the trees when he signaled for her to stop. He said, “Do you hear that?”

She listened. “It’s quiet.”

The shooting had ended. The battle was over. Now the attackers would be coming after them.

Chapter Four

Cole went first, leading Rachel up the forested hill and away from the house. The cumbersome backpack hampered his usual gait. He hunched forward, moving as quickly as possible in the snow-covered terrain. Even if there had been a path through these trees, he wouldn’t have been able to see it. Not in this darkness. Not with the snow falling.

His leather jacket wasn’t the best thing to be wearing in this weather, but he wasn’t cold. The opposite, in fact. He was sweating like a pig. Though breathing hard, he couldn’t seem to get enough wind in his lungs. After only going a couple of hundred yards, his shoulders ached. His thigh muscles were burning. This high elevation was killing him. He estimated that they were more than eight thousand feet above sea level. What the hell was a California guy like him doing here? His natural habitat was palm trees.

He picked his way through the rugged trunks of pine trees and dodged around boulders. After he climbed over a fallen log, he turned to help Rachel. She had the baby in the sling, tucked inside her parka.

She ignored his outstretched hand and jumped over the log, nimble as a white-tailed deer.

“Careful,” he said.

“I’m good.”

Her energy annoyed him. Logically, he knew that Rachel lived here full-time and was acclimated to the altitude. But he wanted to be the strong one—the protector who would lead her and the baby to safety.

Hoping to buy a little time to catch his breath, he asked, “How’s Goldie?”

Rachel peeked inside her parka. “Sleeping. She’s snuggled against my chest and can hear my heartbeat. It probably feels like she’s still in the womb.”

They needed to find shelter soon. It couldn’t be good for a newborn to be exposed to the cold.

“I have a question,” she said. “Why are we going uphill?”

“Escape.”

“If we go down to the road, we’ll be more likely to find a cabin. Or we could flag down a passing car.”

He looked down the hill. The lights from the house were barely visible. “We’re going this way because we can’t risk having the guys who attacked the house find us. They’ll be watching the road.”

“They’ll be looking for us? Why?”

If the gunmen worked for Baron, they wouldn’t leave without the boss man’s baby. If they were Baron’s enemies, the same rationale applied. Goldie was a valuable commodity. “It’s not us they’re after.”

Her arm curled protectively around the infant. “The police ought to be here soon. Somebody must have reported all that gunfire.”

It was too soon to expect a response from his GPS signal, but he trusted that the FBI was closing in on this location. “Nothing would please me more than hearing cop sirens.”

“You can’t mean that.” Her earnest gaze confronted him. “You’ll be taken into custody.”

He’d almost forgotten that she still didn’t know his identity. As far as Rachel was concerned, he was the guy who kidnapped her at gunpoint. An armed robber.

“If I got arrested, would you be heartbroken?”

She exhaled a puff of icy vapor. “No.”

“Maybe a little sad?”

“Let me put it this way. I wouldn’t turn you in.”

Her response surprised him. He had her pegged as a strictly law-abiding citizen who’d be delighted to see any criminal behind bars. But she was willing to make an exception for him. Either she liked him or she had a dark side that she kept hidden.

He turned to face the uphill terrain. “We’ll keep moving until we know we’re safe. Then we can double back to the road.”

The brief rest had allowed him to recover his strength. He slogged onward, wanting to put distance between them and the men with guns. In spite of the burn, his legs took on a steady rhythm as he climbed. Coming through a stand of trees, he realized that they’d reached the highest point on the hill. He maneuvered until he was standing on a boulder and waited for Rachel to join him.

“This is a good lookout point. Do you see anything?”

Together, they peered through the curtain of trees. The snowfall was thick. Heavy clouds had blocked out the light from the moon and stars.

“There.” She pointed down the hill.

The beams of a couple of flashlights flickered in the darkness. They weren’t far away. Maybe eighty yards. He and Rachel were within range of their semiautomatic weapons.

He ducked. She did the same.

The searchers were too close. His hope for escape vanished in the howling wind that sliced through the tree trunks. He and Rachel had left tracks in the snow that a blind man could follow. Peering over the edge of the boulder, he saw the flashlights moving closer. There was only one way out of this.

He slipped his arms out of the backpack. “Take the baby and run. Get as far away from here as you can.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ll distract them.”

Going up against men with superior firepower wasn’t as dumb as it sounded. Cole had the advantage of higher ground. If he waited until they got close, he might be able to take out one of them before the other responded.

“There’s something you haven’t considered,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“Snow.”

While they’d been climbing, the full force of the impending blizzard had gathered. The storm had taken on a fierce intensity.

She grabbed his arm and tugged. “They won’t be able to see us in the blizzard. The wind will cover our tracks.”

Great. He wouldn’t die in a hail of bullets. He’d freeze to death in a blizzard.

“Come on,” she urged. “I need you. Goldie needs you.”

He shouldered the pack again. Going downhill should have been easier, but his knees jolted with every step. At the foot of the slope, they approached an open area where the true velocity of the storm was apparent. The snow fell in sheets. His visibility was cut to only a few yards, but he figured they could cover more distance if they went straight ahead instead of weaving through the trees.

When he stepped into the open, he sank up to his knees. His jeans were wet. His fingers and toes were numb.

“Stay close to the trees,” Rachel said. “It’s not as deep.”

At the edge of the forest, the snow was over his ankles. He trudged through it, making a path for her to follow. One minute turned into ten. Ten into twenty. Inside his boots, his feet felt like frozen blocks of ice. The snow stung his cheeks. So cold, so damned cold. If he was this miserable what was happening to Goldie? Fear for the motherless newborn kept him moving forward. He had to protect this child, had to find shelter.

But he’d lost all sense of direction in the snow. As far as he could tell, they might be heading back toward the house.

Trying to get his bearings, he looked over his shoulder. He doubted that the bad guys were still in pursuit. Any sane person would have turned back by now.

As Rachel had predicted, the snows were already drifting, neatly erasing their tracks.

He couldn’t tell how far they’d gone. It felt like miles, endless miles. Needing a break, he stepped back into the shelter of the forest. His chest ached with the effort of breathing. His eyes were stinging. He squeezed his eyelids shut and opened them again. Squinting, he looked through the trees and saw a solid shape. A cabin. He blinked, hoping that his brain wasn’t playing tricks on him. “Rachel, do you see it?”

“A cabin.” Her voice trembled on the edge of a sob. “Thank God, it’s a cabin.”

He helped her up the small embankment, and they approached the rear of the cabin. No lights shone from inside.

The front door was sheltered by a small porch. Cole hammered against the green painted door with his frozen fist. No answer. Nobody home.

He tried the door handle and found it locked. He was carrying lock picks, but it was too cold to try a delicate manipulation of lock tumblers. He stepped back, prepared to use his body as a battering ram.

“Wait,” Rachel said. “Run your hand over the top sill. They might have left a key.”

“We need to get inside.” He was too damned cold and tired to perform a subtle search. “Why the hell would anybody bother to lock up and then leave a key?”

“This isn’t the city,” she said. “Some of these little cabins are weekend getaways with different families coming and going. Give it a try.”

He peeled off his glove. His fingers were wet and stiff, but he didn’t see the whitened skin indicating the first stage of frostbite. When he felt along the ledge above the door, he touched a key. It seemed that their luck had turned.

Shivering, he fitted the key into the lock and pushed open the door. He and Rachel tumbled inside. When he shut the door against the elements, an ominous silence wrapped around them.

RACHEL DISCARDED HER GLOVES and hit the light switch beside the door. The glow from an overhead light fixture spilled down upon them. They had electricity. So far, so good.

She unzipped her parka, glad that when she left the house this morning—an eternity ago—she’d been smart enough to dress for subzero weather. This jacket might have saved her life … and Goldie’s as well. She looked down at the tiny bundle she carried in the sling against her chest. The baby’s eyes were closed. She wasn’t moving. Please, God, let her be all right.

Cole hovered beside her, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

Rachel slipped out of her jacket. Carefully, she braced the baby in her arms and adjusted the sling. Please, God.

Goldie’s eyes popped open and she let out a wail.

Rachel had never heard a more beautiful sound. “She’s okay. Yes, you are, Goldie. You’re all right.”

Looking up, she saw a similar relief in Cole’s ruddy face. He’d torn off his cap and his hair stood up in spikes. His lips were chapped and swollen. Moisture dripped from his leather jacket. In spite of his obvious discomfort, he smiled.

Grateful tears rose behind her eyelids, but she couldn’t let herself fall apart. “Are we safe?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Tell me what Goldie needs.”

The interior of the cabin was one big, open room with a couple of sofas and chairs at one end and a large wooden table at the other. The kitchen area formed an L shape. A closed door against the back wall probably led into the bedroom. The most important feature, in her mind, was the freestanding propane gas fireplace. “See if you can get that heater going.”

She held Goldie against her shoulder, patting her back and soothing her cries. The poor little thing had to be starving. There was powdered formula in the backpack of supplies, but they needed water.

In the kitchen, Rachel turned the faucet in the sink and was rewarded with a steady flow. This simple, little cabin—probably a weekend getaway—had been well-prepared for winter. No doubt the owners had left the electricity on because the water pipes were wrapped in heat tape. The stove was electric.

Cole joined her. “The fireplace is on. What’s next?”

He looked like hell. Hiking through the blizzard had been more difficult for him than for her. Not only did he go first, but his jacket and boots also weren’t anywhere near as well-insulated as hers. She wanted to tell him to get out of his wet clothes, warm up and take care of himself, but she didn’t want to insult his masculine pride by suggesting he wasn’t in as good a shape as she was.

“Help me get stuff out of the backpack.”

Near the cheery blaze in the propane fireplace, they dug through the baby supplies and put together a nest of blankets for Goldie. When Rachel laid the baby down on the blankets, her cries faded. Goldie wriggled as her diaper was changed.

Cole frowned. “Is she supposed to look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like a plucked chicken. I thought babies were supposed to have chubby arms and legs.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Rachel stroked Goldie’s fine, dark hair. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Yeah, people always say that. But not all babies are beautiful.”

“This is a golden child.” She zipped Goldie into a yellow micro-fleece sleep sack. “She’s beautiful, strong and brave—not even a day old and she’s already escaped a gang of thugs and made it through a blizzard.”

The baby’s chin tilted, and she seemed to be looking directly at Cole with her lips pursed.

He laughed. “She’s a tough little monkey.”

“Newborns are surprisingly resilient.” She held Goldie against her breast and stood. “I’m going to the kitchen to prepare the formula. Maybe you want to get out of those wet clothes.”

“What about you?”

Her jeans were wet and cold against her legs, and her feet were cold in spite of her lined, waterproof boots. “I’d love to take off my boots.”

“Sit,” he ordered.

Still holding the baby, she sank onto a rocking chair. The heat from the fireplace was making a difference in the room temperature. She couldn’t allow herself to get too comfortable or she’d surely fall asleep. This had been the longest day of her life; she’d attended at two birthings, been kidnapped and escaped through a blizzard.

Cole knelt before her and unfastened the laces on her boots. He eased the boot off her right foot, cradled her heel in his hand and massaged through her wool sock. His touch felt so good that she groaned with pleasure.

“Your feet are almost dry,” Cole said. “Where do I get boots like this?”

“Any outdoor clothing and equipment store.” Anyone who lived in the mountains knew how to shop for snow gear. “You’re not from around here.”

“L.A.,” he said.

This was the first bit of personal information he’d volunteered. She’d entrusted this man with her life even though she knew next to nothing about him. “What’s your last name?”

“McClure.” He pulled off the other boot. “And I’m not who you think I am.”

Chapter Five

Rachel gazed down at the top of Cole’s head as he removed her other boot. Much of his behavior didn’t fit with what she expected from an armed robber. He was too smart to be a thug but dumb enough to get involved with killers. Who is he? In the back of her mind, she’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Literally, this was the moment.

He’d said that he wasn’t who she thought he was. What did that mean? Did he have super powers? Was he actually a millionaire? She refused to be seduced by excuses or explanations. Rachel knew his type. He was a tough guy—dangerous, strong and silent … and sexy.

“You know what, Cole? I don’t want to hear your life story.”

He sat back on his heels. “Trust me. You want to know.”

“Trust you?” Not wanting to upset Goldie, she kept her voice level. Inside, she was far from calm. “You don’t deserve my trust.”

“That’s not what you said when I was saving your butt.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Come on, Rachel. I could have left you in the middle of a shoot-out. I’m not a bad guy.”

“If you hadn’t hidden in the back of my van and kidnapped me—” she paused for emphasis”—kidnapped me at gunpoint, I wouldn’t have been in a shoot-out.”

“There were circumstances.”

“Don’t care.” Right now, she was supposed to be on vacation, relaxing in her cozy condo with a fragrant cup of chamomile tea and a good book. “I want this nightmare to be over. And when it is, I never want to see you again.”

“Fair enough.” He stood and stretched. “Take care of Goldie. I’m going to make sure we’re secure.”

“Go right ahead.”

COLE OPENED THE CABIN DOOR and stepped onto the porch. The brief moment of warmth when he’d been inside the cabin made the cold feel even worse than before. The blizzard still raged, throwing handfuls of snow into his face. The icy temperatures instantly froze his bare hands. In his left, he held his gun. In his right, the cell phone. His intention was to call for help. Shivering, he turned on the phone. His power was almost gone. He had no signal at this remote cabin. Holding the phone like a beacon, he turned in every direction, trying to make a connection. Nada. Damn it. He hoped the GPS signal was still transmitting his location to his FBI handlers.

The wind-blown snow had already begun to erase their tracks. Drifts piled up, nearly two feet deep on one side of the log cabin walls. In this storm, visual surveillance was nearly impossible. He couldn’t see past the trees into the forest. All he could do was try to get his bearings.

In front of the house was a turn-around driveway. Less than thirty feet away, he saw the blocky shape of a small outbuilding. A garage? There might be something in there that would aid in their escape.

The wide front door of the garage was blocked by the drifting snow, but there was a side entrance. He shoved it open and entered. The interior was unlit, but there was some illumination from a window at the rear. The open space in the middle seemed to indicate that this building was used as a garage when the people who owned the cabin were here. Under the window, he found a workbench with tools for home repair. Stacked along the walls was a variety of sporting equipment: cross-country skis, poles and snowshoes.

He’d never tried cross-country skiing before, but Rachel probably knew how to use this stuff. She was a hardy mountain woman. Prepared for the snow. Intrepid. What was her problem, anyway?

He’d been about to tell her that he was a fed and she had no more reason to fear, but she’d shut him down. Her big, beautiful blue eyes glared at him with unmistakable anger. She’d said that she didn’t give a damn about him.

He didn’t believe her. Though she had every reason to be ticked off, she didn’t hate him. There was something growing between them. A spark. He saw it in her body language, heard it in her voice, felt it in a dim flicker inside his frozen body. Maybe after they were safe and she knew he was a good guy, he’d pursue that attraction. Or maybe not. He had a hard time imagining Rachel in sunny California, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to move to these frigid, airless mountains.

Leaving the garage, he tromped along the driveway to a narrow road that hadn’t been cleared of snow. No tire tracks. Nothing had been on this road since the beginning of the storm.

He looked back toward the house. Though the curtains were drawn, he could still see the light from inside. If anyone came looking for them, they wouldn’t be hard to find.

CRADLING THE BABY on her shoulder, Rachel padded around in the kitchen in her wool socks. She heard the front door open and saw Cole stumble inside. He locked the door and placed his gun on the coffee table. And his cell phone.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a phone?” she asked.

“It’s almost dead. And I can’t get a signal.”

Warily, she approached the table. “Who were you trying to call?”

“Somebody to get us the hell out of here.”

“Like who?” She wasn’t sure that she wanted to be rescued by any of his friends. Out of the frying pan into the fire.

“I’m not trying to trick you.” He tossed the phone to her. “Go ahead. See if you can get the damn thing to work.”

She juggled the phone and waved it all around while he went through the door to the bedroom. He hadn’t been lying about the lack of signal, but that didn’t set her mind at ease.

Returning to the kitchen, she focused on preparing the formula—a task she’d performed hundreds of times before. Not only was she the third oldest of eight children, but her responsibilities at the clinic also included more than assisting at births. She also made regular visits to new moms, helping them with baby care, feeding and providing necessary immunizations.

The water she’d put into a saucepan on the stove was just beginning to boil. Since she had no idea about the source of this liquid, she wanted to make sure germs and bacteria had been killed. Ten minutes of boiling should be enough. A cloud of steam swirled around her. From the other room, she heard doors opening and closing. She hoped Cole was changing out of his wet clothes. He looked half-frozen.

His well-being shouldn’t matter to her, but she’d be lying if she told herself she wasn’t attracted to him. All her life, she’d been drawn to outsiders and renegades. There was something about bad boys that always sucked her in.

Her first serious boyfriend had owned a motorcycle shop and had tattoos up and down both arms. He definitely hadn’t been the kind of guy she could bring home to meet her stable, responsible, churchgoing parents, which might have been part of her fascination with him. She’d loved riding on the back of his Harley, loved the way he’d grab her and kiss her in front of his biker friends. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. He’d called her “baby doll” and given her a black leather jacket with a skull and a heart on the back.

On the very day she’d intended to move in with him, she’d discovered him in bed with another woman, and she’d heard him tell this leggy blond stranger that she—the blond bimbo—was his baby doll.

Even now, ten years later, that memory set Rachel’s blood boiling. Before she’d departed from motorcycle man’s house, she’d gone into his garage, dumped gasoline on her leather jacket and set it on fire.

After that ride on the wild side, she should have learned. Instead, she’d gone through a series of edgy boyfriends—daredevils, rock musicians, soldiers of fortune. Like an addict, she was drawn to their intensity.

Cole was one of those guys.

True, he had risked his life to rescue her and Goldie. He wasn’t evil. But he wasn’t somebody she wanted to know better.

Using a dish towel, she wiped around the lid of the container before she opened the powdered formula. There was food for Goldie, but what about them? Searching the kitchen, she found a supply of canned food and an opened box of crackers. There was also flour and sugar and olive oil. If they got snowed in for a day or two, they wouldn’t starve to death. A day or two? The idea of being trapped with Cole both worried and excited her.

One-handed and still holding the fidgeting baby, she measured and mixed the formula. “Almost done,” she murmured to Goldie. “You’ll feel better after you eat.”

One of the reasons Rachel had moved to the mountains was to get away from sexy bad boys who would ultimately hurt her. As a midwife, she didn’t come into contact with many single men and hadn’t had a date in months. Fine with me! She preferred the calm warmth of celibacy to a fiery affair that would leave her with nothing but a handful of ashes.

Bottle in hand, she returned to the living room just as Cole stepped out of the bathroom, drying his dark blond hair with a towel. He’d changed into a sweatshirt and gray sweatpants that were too short, leaving his ankles exposed. On his feet, he wore wool socks.

“Did you take a shower?” she asked.

“A hot shower. They have one of those wall-hanging propane water heaters.”

She gazed longingly toward the bathroom. “Hot water?”

He held out his arms. “Give me the baby. I’ll feed her while you shower and change out of those wet jeans. There are clothes in the bedroom.”

That was all it took to convince her. She nodded toward the rocking chair. “Sit. Do you know how to feed an infant?”

“How hard can it be?”

“You haven’t been around babies much, have you?”

“I was an only child.”

Another piece of personal information she didn’t need to know. “Here’s how it’s done. Don’t force the nipple into her mouth. Let her take it. She’s tired and will probably drop off before she gets enough nourishment. Gently nudge with the nipple. That stimulates the sucking reflex.”

She placed Goldie in his arms and watched him. His rugged hands balanced the clear plastic bottle with a touching clumsiness. When Goldie latched onto the nipple, Cole looked up at her and grinned triumphantly. He really was trying to be helpful. She had to give him credit.

“What did you find when you went outside?” she asked. “Is it safe for us to stay here?”

“The men who were after us must have turned back. If they were still on our trail, they would have busted in here by now.”

“The blizzard saved us.”

“They won’t stop looking. Tomorrow, we’ll need to move on.”

She turned on her heel and went into the bedroom. There was only one thing she needed Cole for: survival. The sooner he was out of her life, the better.

Like the rest of the cabin, the bathroom was well-equipped and efficient. Quickly, she shed her clothes and turned on the steaming water. As soon as the hot spray hit her skin, a soothing warmth spread through her body, easing her tension. She ducked her head under the hot water. One of the benefits of short hair was not worrying about getting it wet. She would have liked to stand here for hours but wasn’t sure what sort of water system the cabin had. So she kept it quick.

As soon as she was out of the shower and wrapped in a yellow bath towel that matched the plastic shower curtain, Rachel realized her logistical dilemma. No way did she want to get back into her damp clothes. But she didn’t want to give Cole a free show by scampering from the bathroom to the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel.

Her hand rested on the doorknob. I can’t hide in here. Rachel prided herself on being a decisive woman. No nonsense. She did what was necessary without false modesty or complaint. And so she yanked open the bathroom door and strode forth, decisively. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

As she walked the few paces in her bare feet, she boldly gazed at him. In his amber eyes, she saw a flash of interest. His mouth curved in a grin.

She challenged him. “What are you staring at?”

“You.”

Her bravado collapsed. She felt very, very naked. He seemed to be looking through the towel, and she had the distinct impression that he liked the view.

Despite her determination not to scamper, she dashed into the bedroom, closed the door and leaned against it. Her heart beat fast. The warmth from the shower was replaced by an internal flush of embarrassment that rose from her throat to her cheeks. If he could decimate her composure with a single glance, what would happen if he actually touched her?

In spite of the burning inside her, she realized that the temperature in the bedroom, away from the propane fireplace, was considerably cooler than in the front room. The double bed was piled high with comforters and blankets. Would she sleep in that bed with Cole tonight? As soon as the question formed in her mind, she banished it. Sleeping with the enemy had no place on her agenda.

Inside a five-drawer bureau, she found clothing—mostly long underwear and sweats—in several sizes. It was easy to imagine a family coming to this weekend retreat for cross-country skiing or ice skating or snowmobiling. When this was over, Rachel fully intended to reimburse the cabin owners and thank them for saving her life.

After she slipped into warm sweats and socks, she eyed the bedroom door. Cole was out there, waiting. Physically, she couldn’t avoid him. But she could maintain an emotional distance. She remembered motorcycle man and the flaming leather jacket. Any involvement with Cole would lead inevitably to that same conclusion.

She straightened her shoulders. I can control myself. I will control my emotions.

She opened the door and entered the front room. Cole was still sitting in the rocking chair. Without looking up, he said, “I think Goldie’s had enough milk.”

“How many ounces are left in the bottle?”

He held it up to look through the clear plastic. “Just a little bit at the bottom.”

“Did you burp her?”

“I do that by putting her on my shoulder, right?”

“Give me the baby,” she said.

When he transferred the swaddled infant to her, their hands touched. An electric thrill raced up her arm, and she tensed her muscles to cancel the effect.

He took a step back. His baggy gray sweatsuit didn’t hide the breadth of his shoulders, his slim torso or long legs. His gaze assessed her as though deciding how to proceed. Instead of speaking, he went to the front window and peered through the gap in the green-and-blue plaid curtains. “It’s still snowing hard.”

“This morning they predicted at least a foot of new snow.” A weather report wasn’t really what was on her mind.

“It’s mesmerizing. I didn’t actually see snow falling from the sky until I was nine years old.”

“Not so pretty when you’re caught in a blizzard.” She did a bouncy walk as she patted Goldie on the back.

“I never want to do that again.”

“Tomorrow morning, we shouldn’t have to walk too far. All we need to find is a working telephone.”

Then they could call for help. She and Goldie would be safe. Cole was a different story. When the police came to her rescue, he’d be taken into custody. Would he turn himself in without a fight? Or would he run?

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