Nanny and baby on the run

A taut thriller in the True North Heroes series

When her boss’s wife is murdered before her eyes, nanny Daisy Hayward flees with her infant charge. But she can’t escape danger. Someone wants the baby and will kill Daisy to get him. In the Canadian wilderness, a paramedic saves them. But when Daisy is framed for murder and labeled a kidnapper, will Max Henry help her...or turn her in?

MAGGIE K. BLACK is an award-winning journalist and romantic suspense author with an insatiable love of traveling the world. She has lived in the American South, Europe and the Middle East. She now makes her home in Canada with her history-teacher husband, their two beautiful girls and a small but mighty dog. Maggie enjoys connecting with her readers at maggiekblack.com.

Also By Maggie K. Black

True North Heroes

Undercover Holiday Fiancée

The Littlest Target

True North Bodyguards

Kidnapped at Christmas

Rescue at Cedar Lake

Protective Measures

Killer Assignment

Deadline

Silent Hunter

Headline: Murder

Christmas Blackout

Tactical Rescue

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Littlest Target

Maggie K. Black

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08262-4

THE LITTLEST TARGET

© 2018 Mags Storey

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Her breath tightened in her chest.

She couldn’t believe her ears. Max had given her up to the authorities. Was this why he’d brought her here? To set her up?

“Daisy, I can explain.”

She pushed past him and ran outside, but Max stepped out behind her. “I called my brother because he’s an undercover detective. I want to protect you, Daisy.”

“I never asked you to protect me!”

“Fine.” He stepped back. “If you want to keep running, then go. But the baby stays with me. I won’t let anybody hurt him.”

“I don’t want to run anymore.” She grabbed his hand in both of hers. “I just want this nightmare to be over.”

“Then trust me.”

The irony wasn’t lost on her. She’d never trusted anyone, and he didn’t rescue people. Yet here they were.

Before she could respond, headlights swamped the porch and a voice barked, “On your knees, both of you! This time you talk...or you die.”

Dear Reader,

Thank you for joining me for my second book about the Henry brothers. When I finished writing Undercover Holiday Fiancée, I worried I’d never discover another couple I liked as much as Trent and Chloe. But Max, Daisy and little Fitz really worked their way into my heart.

Right now, I’m writing this by the window in my favorite coffee shop. Usually I work from home with my two little dogs. But about once a week, I like to write here to get a different view of the world. Often I’m surrounded by business meetings. Occasionally, I witness either sweet or disastrous first dates. But this coffee shop also gets a steady stream of people in uniform, especially paramedics. It’s not unusual for me to pop my head up and ask them random questions like, “Who gets to fly the helicopter?” or “What tools do you have on your belt?” I’m extremely thankful for their patience! All creative mistakes in this book are my doing, not theirs.

Thank you again to all the amazing readers who’ve got in touch with your thoughts, questions and suggestions. I really enjoy hearing from you! I’m sorry I’ve got behind in responding to physical letters, but I’ll take a trip to the post office as soon as this book is done. You can find me on Twitter at @MaggieKBlack or at www.maggiekblack.com.

Thank you all for sharing this journey with me,

Maggie

For thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat, when the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall.

—Isaiah 25:4

Thanks as always to my agent Melissa Jeglinski, my editor Emily Rodmell and the rest of the Love Inspired team who encourage authors like me and bring stories like these to life.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

ONE

Daisy Hayward brushed a kiss over nine-month-old Fitz Pearce’s tender head and gently lowered him into the crib, just as a deafening crash sounded through the darkened country house below. The baby’s eyes shot open. Fitz’s lip quivered. Tears filled his anxious gaze. Instantly, Daisy plucked her tiny charge from the crib and held him to her chest to rock him back to sleep. He nestled against her. The pervasive anxiety that seemed to fill little Fitz’s unhappy home tightened around her heart like a vise.

Lord, I feel so trapped in this miserable place. Sometimes, I don’t know how much I can take.

In the eight and a half months since she’d become Fitz’s nanny, there’d been moments when she’d almost felt like a prisoner in the remote Quebec countryside estate. Endless days of long, uncomfortable tension stretched whenever Gerald Pearce was away on business, only to then erupt into angry shouts and paranoid accusations between him and his young second wife, Anna, whenever he came home.

For Daisy, growing up in a small English village where jobs were scarce, being hired to care for the son of a wealthy Canadian computer developer had felt like a dream come true. It wasn’t until she’d arrived in Canada that she’d discovered the truth. Fitz’s mother, Jane Pearce, had died in childbirth. A hasty wedding to Anna, one of Pearce Enterprises’s lead graphic designers and almost thirty years Gerald’s junior, had followed. But despite being newlyweds, their relationship was fraught with shouted accusations and slamming doors, and even one late night visit from two police officers. None of which was helped by Daisy’s suspicions that Gerald’s paranoid and scattered mind was slipping.

She could hear things breaking now, as if Anna and Gerald had given up on shouting and decided instead to trash their expensive home. Fitz’s pudgy hand grabbed a fistful of her long blond hair and held it tightly. She slid a finger between his gums and felt the telltale bump of a new tooth getting ready to come through. He was teething.

Daisy tightened her arms around him.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

There was nowhere to go and reminding herself of that always helped somehow. The estate was in the middle of nowhere, and they didn’t need gates or fences to keep her there. In fact, Anna often told her with her smug little smile that she was free to leave on her days off and then wouldn’t let her use the car.

Daisy gritted her teeth and refused to let her eyes even consider forming tears. It wasn’t like there was anything good waiting for her back home either. Her stepfather was a drunk and a thief, her mother hadn’t put up much of a fight when Daisy had been first kicked out of the house seven years ago—when she was just sixteen—and now there were four tiny half siblings back home that her mother desperately needed Daisy’s pay to help feed.

Lord, if reminding myself of that is what keeps me here, then please don’t ever let me forget. Fitz needs me. I can’t imagine what would happen to him without me.

Anna screamed and her shrill voice rose above the noise, so clearly it was as if she was standing on the other side of the door. “No! Don’t shoot! Please!”

Then, before she could even blink, a sudden deafening crack seemed to split the air. Anna’s screams died. Fitz howled.

Daisy’s heart smacked inside her slender frame, telling her to move, even as her brain scrambled to think. She crossed the nursery, slid the door open and positioned herself in the doorway so that she could look out, while keeping the child in her arms still sheltered behind her. She glanced over the landing.

Two of Gerry’s business associates were tossing the place. Silent and hulking, with bald heads and cold stares, she’d always imagined that “Mr. Smith” and “Mr. Jones” had been carved from the same block of cement. She’d always wondered if those were their real names and found them almost indistinguishable except for the fact that Smith’s large nose was crooked and Jones had an ugly scar on his throat. Considering Gerry’s creeping paranoia, Daisy had always guessed they were some form of security. Now Smith was knocking over shelves and tossing glass and ceramics to the floor, while Jones took a knife to the furniture.

Then she saw Anna, lying still on the floor of the grand foyer, her long fair hair and dress stained from the dark pool of blood spreading out from what looked like a gunshot wound deep in her chest. For a moment, panic curled like smoke inside Daisy’s throat, choking out her ability to think or even move.

Then Smith grunted and said, “I’ll finish down here. You go do the baby’s room.”

Jones turned toward the stairs, knife in hand. Daisy ducked back into the nursery, closed the door and locked it. Then shifting Fitz to her hip, she wedged a chair under the door. She doubted it would hold long. Her eyes scanned the nursery, piled high with stuffed animals, model trucks, electronic gizmos and plastic toys, all meant for a child much older than Fitz. Gerry seemed to think that every weekend he came home required giving his son a gift.

She slid on the chest carrier and buckled Fitz in, then zipped her raincoat over them both, so that his head poked out the top. His cries faded to whimpers. She dashed into the walk-in closet that served as her room, grabbed the rucksack she’d brought from England and tossed in a change of clothes for herself, more clothes for Fitz, his blanket, diapers and bottles.

Unfortunately, her cracked cell phone hadn’t worked in days; not since it had died at the hands of Fitz’s obsession with pushing buttons and grabbing anything shiny and electronic he could get his hands on.

Footsteps sounded on the landing. Jones was on his way. Daisy yanked the nursery window open, swung her leg over the ledge, reached for the trellis and climbed down, praying with each step that it would hold their weight. She heard the crash of the nursery door burst open, then the sound of Jones cursing.

She hit the ground. Her feet pounded around the side of the house. A pair of headlights raced toward her. Her hands rose to block the glare. Then she heard an engine stop and Gerry’s befuddled voice. “Daisy? What are you doing out here?”

She stumbled toward the sound. “We need to call 911. Anna’s been shot.”

“What? Who?” He grabbed her arm.

She prayed his reaction was from shock. His memory gaps had been getting more frequent, even though she’d always assumed a man in his fifties was too young for dementia.

“Your new wife, Anna.” She blinked and her vision cleared. His gray hair and beard were an odd, sickly yellow in the glare of his sports car headlights. “Anna was shot, in your house, just now. Smith and Jones shot her. We need to call an ambulance and the police.”

“No, not Smith and Jones. They wouldn’t hurt Anna. They’re loyal to me.” His hand tightened its grip until she could almost feel bruises forming, then he dropped her arm as suddenly as he’d grabbed it. “I will call the police. I know which ones I can trust. But you—you have to stay away from the police, okay? There are some corrupt cops who are out to steal my work and they will hurt Fitz to do it. Two of them came to the house. They threatened me and tried to blackmail me. You have to promise me you won’t let them hurt Fitz.”

“Of course.” Panic crawled up her throat. She remembered those cops. There’d been two of them, one man and one woman. But could she really believe any of his ranting? “I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt Fitz.”

“Good.” Gerry blinked and she saw clarity return to his eyes. “Everything is going to be all right. I have an apartment in Sault Sainte Marie. Take Fitz there. Don’t stop. Don’t talk to anyone. I’ll call a cop I know I can trust and get them to meet you there. I have very powerful enemies who are trying to steal my work and they will use Fitz to do that. But you and Fitz will be safe at my apartment, and I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

He reached into the sports car and programmed an address into the GPS. There was a car seat buckled into the back seat and next to it a large wooden sailboat with a bright red bow.

Gerry pushed a cell phone into her hand. “Text me when you get there. I’ll take care of Anna. If I can find a police contact who I know isn’t corrupted, I’ll text you and send you to them. I can’t promise this line is secure, though, so be careful who you call. Trust me, Daisy, do what I say and everything will be okay.”

She didn’t trust him. Not fully. But Gerry was her boss. If she refused, then what? It wasn’t like running back into the house was an option.

Fitz whimpered. Gerry reached out, brushed a gentle touch over his head and leaned in toward his son. “You’re the best thing I ever made. We’ll play with your toys again soon.”

A shout came from behind them. Jones was running toward them, weapon drawn. Gerry yanked a gun from his belt.

“Daisy!” he shouted. “Go! I’ll hold him off!”

She yanked the back door open and buckled Fitz inside, then she climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The car purred beneath her. She glanced at the GPS. It told her she was facing a ten-and-a-half-hour drive to Sault Sainte Marie across northern Ontario.

A hail of bullets sounded in the darkness. She put the car in Reverse and glanced in the rearview mirror. Her eyes fell on Fitz’s startled face through his tiny car seat mirror. One hand clutched the yellow sail of his new toy boat. “Don’t worry, Fitz. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

Just as soon as she figured out how to do that.

Lord, I don’t know where this place is that I’m going or what it is I’m doing. I wish for once, there was someone, somewhere, I could count on not to throw my entire life into chaos. All I know right now is that I need to run.

More bullets sounded, mixed with shattering glass. She gunned the car backward, spun on the driveway and drove off into darkness. She followed the tiny blue line on the GPS, as the Pearce country estate exploded in a ball of fire and flames behind her.

* * *

“At least one body has been recovered from the remains of an apparent gas explosion around six thirty last night at the home of computer developer Gerald Pearce, outside Montreal. Fire crews remain on the scene hours after the explosion, battling to keep flames from spreading to the surrounding trees. Despite the rain being forecast, skies remain clear as a column of smoke and flame—”

Max Henry leaned across the cab of the rapid-response emergency vehicle and switched the radio off. His eyes darted to the clock. Was it after midnight already?

It had been three hours since he’d left University of Ottawa, where he’d given a talk to students on why they should consider careers as rural community and wilderness paramedics. He’d stuck around for an extra couple of hours to listen in on a talk from the air-ambulance pilots. They’d teased him about the fact that although he’d learned to fly, he’d never got around to getting his license, which meant he was always stuck in the back of the helicopters.

Now the night fell deep and heavy around him as he drove through the narrow, winding rural roads that would lead him through the Ontario woodlands back home to Huntsville.

The story about the Pearce mansion fire had been at the top of the news ever since he’d got in the vehicle. He’d heard of the Pearces of course. Probably most people had. Not that he knew much about them beyond seeing the pictures of their small but lavish wedding splashed all over news a few months back. Newly wealthy, reportedly brilliant and quite conventionally attractive, Anna Pearce had made quite a few glossy magazine covers since then. But Max didn’t care about the gossip. Instead, every time the news story played, he couldn’t help but map the emergency-response scenario out in his mind. A rapid-response unit like his would’ve got there first, he guessed. Followed almost immediately by police, who would secure the scene. Then ambulances and fire trucks and eventually news crews.

Silence filled the truck, punctuated only by the drone of the engine beneath him. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and tried to figure out how long it would be until a good radio music station would be in range. The temptation to turn the emergency scanners on niggled at him like an itch he couldn’t reach between his shoulder blades.

He ran his hand over the back of his neck, feeling the telltale curl that told him that his dark shaggy hair was overdue for another haircut. He chuckled. He might technically be off shift, but when he left the conference, he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his uniform into civvies.

There’s supposed to be more to life than work, Max. A voice floated in the back of his mind. It sounded suspiciously like his dad’s new favorite topic. You don’t want to look up from work one day and realize you haven’t actually lived.

But why not? He argued back against the voice. And what qualified as living? Time off? A family? A white picket fence? A beautiful wife? A life spent speeding to accident scenes and leaping out of helicopters to save countless lives was hardly a waste.

Besides, it was all Trent’s fault for putting these thoughts in their folks’ heads. For as long as he could remember, the four Henry brothers had an unspoken pact to remain bachelors for life. Jacob, Nick and Max had all stuck to the deal.

Then his detective brother had the audacity to bring fellow detective Chloe home at Christmas. The next thing they knew, the couple’s engagement cover story was the real deal—sweet romance and all.

Something rumbled behind him. His green eyes narrowed as he looked in the rearview mirror. The sports car behind him was gaining on him too quickly.

His lips set in a grim line and for a moment, he felt tempted to switch on his emergency lights just to slow them down. There was nothing worse than a reckless driver. Usually just the sight of an emergency vehicle on the road would be enough to make even the worst driver reduce speed. But either the sports car driver hadn’t seen him or was in too big of a hurry to care. He nudged his truck over to the side of the road.

The sports car passed. Max turned and his eyes met the driver’s for barely an instant. Then she sped away and was gone, leaving the afterimage of the brief glimpse he’d got of her in the glow of the dashboard lights seared on his mind.

It had been a woman. She’d been in her early twenties, he guessed, with long blond hair, huge eyes, a slender frame and a tight grip on the steering wheel. Questions as to what her story was filled his mind as he watched her taillights speed away ahead of him. She had looked terrified and determined, and there’d been something captivating about her that he couldn’t put into words.

Then the telltale flicker of blue and white lights flashed in his rearview mirror. A sedan sped up behind him now—dark, plain and unmarked except for the LED flights flashing through the windshield. Well, whoever she was, she wouldn’t get far with that unmarked police car on her tail.

He slowed his rapid-response vehicle to let the police car pass. It didn’t even signal. Instead, it whipped around so close it would’ve clipped him if Max hadn’t swerved.

A prayer for God’s mercy thudded in Max’s rib cage. A police officer should know better than to drive like that. Yet he watched, helpless and almost incredulous, as the unmarked car sped toward the blonde in the sports car. It nudged closer and closer to her, until it was tailgating dangerously. Cop or not, anyone driving that dangerously at speeds like that was flirting with disaster.

Then it happened, with a crunch of metal and a screech of tires. The unmarked police vehicle clipped the sports car. Max’s heart lurched as he watched the blonde’s vehicle spin. She was going to crash, right there in front of him, and all he could do was pray and try to steer his way clear.

He yanked the wheel hard to the right, pressing down on the brake as much as he dared without risking locking the brakes. Gravel sprayed beneath his tires. Trees spun past the windshield. From somewhere beyond him, he heard an agonizing screech of metal reverberating through the morning air. The sports car had smashed into something.

God, keep me from crashing into her!

The rapid-response truck slammed to a stop and he felt the back corner hit a rock with the kind of crunch that had him guessing he’d be looking at a new bumper and a little bit of bodywork when he got back home.

He looked up through the windshield. The sports car wasn’t as well-off. The front end was embedded in a thick pine tree and the airbag had deployed. He just hoped the driver was all right.

No signal on his cell phone. He grabbed his CB radio and clipped it to his shoulder, ready to call in backup the second he assessed the scene and coordinated with the lead officer. As first on the scene, it was the cop’s job to make the call.

Max grabbed the bright red jump bag that held all his basic medical necessities, slung it over his shoulder and ran toward the accident. The police car had stopped. In the dim headlights, he watched as a large man with a bald head ran toward the sports car, reached it first and yanked the driver’s door open.

“My name is Max Henry, and I’m an Ontario paramedic!” Max shouted. “Stay back and let me assess injuries!”

The man didn’t even turn. Instead he reached into the car, grabbed the driver and pulled her out. She screamed. The man threw her to the ground and forced her down onto her knees. A baby’s wail filled the air. Max’s heart stopped. There was an infant in the car!

“Get back in your truck and let me handle this!” the bald man thundered at him. “This woman is a dangerous criminal and I’m taking her into custody for murder and kidnapping!”

“He’s lying!” the blonde yelled. Her accent was British, the kind that made him think of royalty and the Tower of London. She was kneeling down on the ground with one palm pressed into the pavement. Strength battled the vulnerability in her face. But it was the defiance in her eyes that made his breath catch.

The wail of the baby grew louder. Max listened carefully. It was the strong and hearty yell of an infant who was several months old, and definitely a howl of anger, rather than a whimper of pain or distress. Thankfully.

Max raised his hands and took a step forward. “Please, Officer, I’m not trying to get in your way, just let me make sure the baby and driver are both okay.”

“Max, listen to me!” The sound of his name on the young woman’s lips seemed to shake something inside his chest. “I’m not kidnapping this baby, and I didn’t kill anyone. I promise. I’m his nanny. This man’s name is Smith. He’s not a cop. He’s a killer. He murdered the baby’s stepmother—”

Her words were swallowed up in a cry as Smith cuffed her hard on the back of her head. Max’s jaw set. This stopped here and now.

“Step away from her with your hands up!” Max shouted. “If you really are a cop, I demand you show me your badge, although I’m pretty sure that despite the pretty flashing police lights on the car, which I now presume you’ve stolen, you don’t have one.” He grabbed the CB radio from his shoulder. “I’m calling this in.”

Smith reached around his back. A Glock flashed in his hands so quickly Max barely had time to process what had happened. But there it was, with its barrel focused on Max’s face.

“Drop the radio and get down on the ground now,” Smith ordered. “Hands behind your head. Or I will shoot you where you stand.”

TWO

Max froze. Okay, Lord, now what do I do? He’d faced more than his fair share of criminals without the benefit of a weapon or bulletproof vest. In fact, he’d just finished telling an auditorium full of fresh-faced university students that paramedics were attacked and injured more often than those in any other lifesaving career, and that he’d personally taken more blows to the jaw, punches, kicks and attempted stabbings than he liked to remember. But a bullet? This would be a first.

“I said, let her go.” Max’s voice rose. Gun or not, there was no way he was backing down now. “I will not let you hurt them.”

Even if it meant fighting to his dying breath. The nanny’s right hand darted behind her back. Smith aimed the gun at Max’s head. Something cold glinted in his eyes and suddenly Max knew with crystal clear certainty this man would kill him without a moment’s hesitation.

Oh, Lord, I really need Your help right now!

The nanny yanked a pair of scissors out from behind her back and plunged them into Smith’s leg. He swore. The gun fired, its bullet flew high into the sky.

Max dived into a front roll, feeling the heavy fabric of his uniform take the impact as his body hit the pavement. The woman slipped from Smith’s grasp and ran for the car.

Max charged, throwing himself at Smith and locking his own hands around the weapon before Smith could get off another shot. They wrestled for the gun, rolling on the ground, as Max battled to hold his own against a man twice his size. He heard the sound of a car seat carrier unclicking from its base, a car door slamming and footsteps in the trees. The baby’s cries faded into the distance.

The good news was it sounded like she’d got the baby safely out of the car. Bad news was it sounded like she was running.

The gun flew from Smith’s grasp. Max sprang to his feet, only for Smith to level a sucker punch to his jaw that filled his eyes with stars. Smith darted for his vehicle. Max stood frozen for a second, uncertain which direction to run. But even before he heard the unmarked police car’s door slam, he knew his answer. It wasn’t his job to stop criminals. It was his job to save the lives of anyone who needed him.

Max took off running through the woods, following the sound of the nanny’s footsteps and the baby’s angry wail. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the night around him. A woman and a baby alone in the woods, what did she think she was doing? Where did she think she was going?

Ahead of him he could hear her crashing through the trees. Behind him, the police car’s engine roared and then faded back along the highway. Smith was leaving.

“Hey! Wait! It’s okay!” Max called. “He’s gone! You’re safe!”

Then he could see her, dim in the moonlight, as she darted through the trees ahead of him with a bag on her shoulder and the baby in the car seat carrier clutched to her chest. He was gaining on her and so close that in another minute or two, he’d be able to touch her shoulder. She stopped, set the baby carrier down at her feet, spun back and raised the scissors.

“Stop! Right there!” she said. “Not another step! Or I’ll stab you! I’m not kidding. I will not let you hurt Fitz.”

“Oh, I totally believe you would stab me.” Max froze. “And while I have more than enough gauze and bandages in my jump bag to patch myself up again, I really don’t want to.”

The corner of her lips twitched. His hands rose higher as his eyes ran over the baby. To his relief, the child looked fine and more surprised than hurt or scared. Still, a visual examination wasn’t as accurate as a physical one would be.

“I promise, I only want to help, and Smith is gone,” he said. “However he got his hands on an undercover cop car, I really don’t believe he was an actual cop. You have nothing to fear now. It’s just us three.”

Cold March wind flickered between the trees. The baby whimpered softly. The woman reached down, tucked him deeper into the blankets and pulled the hood up over him. Where did she think she was going? The closest town was over an hour’s drive away. She had no wheels, no shelter, nothing.

Nothing but him.

“I’m just reaching for my flashlight, okay?” he said. “It’s on my belt. I just think this might go a bit easier if we can see each other better. All right?”

She nodded. He reached with one hand, clipped the light from his belt, switched it on and set it on the ground. A warm, yellow glow spread through the trees, casting the underbrush and branches in a maze of shifting shadows.

They both stepped forward into the light and his eyes scanned her slender frame. Her hair tumbled loose and wild around her shoulders. Her eyes were large, dark and luminous. Once again, the thought of British moors and royalty crossed his mind. It was like something out of one of those books his mother read, about beautiful and plucky countesses who escaped their captors, slipped from their prisons and ran with the royal heir.

Only, he was no fairytale hero. And whatever danger this woman was in that had her tearing through the woods and clutching a pair of scissors out in front of her like a weapon was all too real.

“I’m really not a criminal,” she said again. “I didn’t steal this baby and I didn’t kill anyone.”

“I hear you,” Max said. He even had a hunch she was telling the truth. But that didn’t mean he was about to let his guard down. He gestured to the badge on his shoulder. “I’m not a cop. Like I told you, I’m just a paramedic and I don’t have the power to arrest anyone. It’s my job to help people—even if they are criminals. I’m just like a doctor, only with a lot more time spent working in the rain and getting covered by mud.”

“Forgive me, but the fact you’re in a uniform and waving a badge around doesn’t immediately mean I’ll trust you,” she said. “I’ve met too many people like you who couldn’t figure out the real truth of a situation if someone had smacked them on the head with it.”

Something in the quiver of her chin told him there was a story there, and it wasn’t a good one. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll do my best to pay close attention to anything you hit me with.”

Was it his imagination or had that very slight smile curled a little more at the corner of her lips?

“Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate what you did back there. I really do. You probably saved our lives. But I don’t want your help and I don’t want you getting involved. Just tell me how to get to the next town and rent a car, and I’ll take it from there.”

He nodded slowly. “Why?” he asked.

“What do you mean why?” Her arms crossed and the scissors dropped to the ends of her fingertips. Okay, now they were getting somewhere. “I need a car, because the one I was driving is now wrapped around a tree.”

“I mean, why won’t you let me help you?” he asked. “It will take you hours to walk to the next town. It’s supposed to rain eventually, even though the weather guys seem a bit late on that one. You’re going to have a hard time finding anyone who’ll rent you a car for at least nine hours. And something tells me you’re not about to just hitchhike with some stranger.”

“You’re a stranger,” she said.

Max felt a grin spreading across his face. He had to admit, weird as this was, he almost liked her. Sure, she was aggravating, stubborn and still might stab him. But there was something impressive about her, too. She had gumption as his dad would call it.

“Good point,” he said. “Then let’s get acquainted. As I shouted earlier while running toward a gunman, my name is Max Henry. I’m a paramedic from Huntsville, Ontario. I have three brothers—two older and one younger—and no pets. Now, would you like me to toss you my wallet so you can check my ID?”

She smiled. “No, that’s okay. My name is Daisy. This is Fitz. Like I said before, I’m his nanny.”

He waited to see if she was going to tell him anything more. The wind picked up, sending trees dancing with a sound like brushes on a steel drum. She pressed her lips together and stared him down. Guess that was all the info he was getting for now.

“It’s nice to meet you, Daisy,” Max said. “Who’s Smith?”

Her slim shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t know his full name. He worked for Fitz’s dad until I’m guessing he double-crossed him. Fitz’s dad warned me not to let him or anyone else near the baby and to take Fitz to Sault Sainte Marie.”

Max whistled. “That’s a long drive. You said he killed Fitz’s mother?”

“Stepmother actually, but yeah,” she said. “His mother died in childbirth.”

Max felt an eyebrow rise. Dying in childbirth did happen, true, but it was very rare in Canada. Not to mention Fitz was less than a year old. Had Fitz’s parents split up when she was pregnant? How quickly had Fitz’s father remarried?

And was he going to learn any of these people’s real full names?

He’d never met anyone so determined to tell him as little information as humanly possible, like she was slipping tiny scraps of it to him through the bars of a prison window.

“We need to call this in and let police know that a woman is dead,” Max said as gently as he could.

“They know,” she said. “It was on the news and I saw a police car fly past me as I was leaving.”

Really, he couldn’t remember hearing about any murders on the radio and a murder tended to be at the top of the news. There’d been a major fire reported in Quebec. But nothing that had involved a baby or a murdered woman. He clenched his jaw and fought the urge to dig.

WIN. The acronym he’d heard and used himself hundreds of times filled his mind. What’s Important Now.

As fascinating as whatever murder mystery she was caught up in might be, it wasn’t the most important thing right now. The most important thing was convincing her to get in his vehicle and let him take them to safety. Prying was tempting. But prying would also probably spook her and the last thing he needed was for her to run.

His arms crossed. Time to negotiate.

“Well, Daisy. You want to get to the nearest town and to get a vehicle. I want to double-check that Fitz is okay and give you a ride—”

“I also don’t want the police involved.” She cut him off. “Not until I’m convinced that I can trust them. Right now, all I know is that some cops want to hurt Fitz, and I don’t know which cops I can trust.”

He ran his hand through his dark shaggy hair. “Would you talk to a trustworthy and honest cop?”

“Yes, but when and how I do is a decision I get to make.”

She was impossible. He had three cops in his family—Trent and his fiancée, Chloe, and his eldest brother, Jacob. Plus, his youngest brother, Nick, was in the military, which meant all four Henry brothers were in some form of uniformed lifesaving work. He pressed his lips together, debated telling her that and decided against it for fear it would spook her even worse.

“Well, I have to call the accident in,” Max said. “What if someone else comes along and hits it? You think your boss wants you to leave his very expensive sports car wrecked at the side of the road?”

“You think he wants me to risk his baby’s life for the sake of reporting a crashed car?” Her voice matched the volume of his. “He’s got plenty of cars. He’s only got one son!”

Okay, maybe she had a point with that one. But Max was also pretty sure that her boss was a crook, which made her an accomplice to who knew what kind of crime. He ran his hand over the back of his neck. The frustration that burned there was less at her and more at Fitz’s father and Smith and whatever dishonest and crooked things they were involved in that had cost Fitz’s stepmother her life and had left Daisy out here alone, in the woods with a baby to protect.

The wind grew sharper. Fitz’s whimpers turned to cries. Daisy leaned down and rocked him gently. Max could tell the baby was about to howl and was positive Daisy could tell that, too.

He ran his hand over his jaw and asked God to help him choose his words carefully.

“Look, you’re obviously in trouble,” he said, “and I obviously want to help. I’ve got a vehicle. It’s plenty warm and comfortable. If you let me give you a ride to the next town, I promise I won’t call 911, try to take you to a police station or pry anymore into your life. My responsibility is to make sure you’re both okay, no matter your story. Now, please, will you let me do my job and help you?”

* * *

Silent prayers filled Daisy’s heart, even as she could feel it beating like a drum. He had no idea how tempting his offer was, how long the last hours of driving had dragged on her limbs and just how much she wanted to be somewhere safe, away from the cold and the fear.

But she couldn’t let her guard down. Smith had somehow found her and the fact that he’d also somehow got his hand on a police vehicle didn’t do much to sway her concerns about Gerry’s warning not to trust the cops. Plus, when she’d grabbed her bag and Fitz’s car seat out of the wrecked remains of Gerry’s smashed car, she’d found a brand-new prepaid burner cell phone and two envelopes of hundred-dollar bills that she guessed totaled at least a few grand on the floor of the back seat. She’d grabbed the phone on impulse in case anything happened to the one Gerry had given her and had stuffed the cash in her rucksack, figuring she’d need some money to take care of Fitz. It had been a split-second decision she’d made without thinking. Now, that the world was quiet again she wondered if it’d been the right one.

Could a burner phone be traced like a regular cell phone could? The phone looked like it had never even been activated. Would using it be more or less safe than using the phone Gerry had given her? She had no idea.

Max was still staring at her, waiting for her to say something. Her eyes roamed over him as if searching for answers to questions she couldn’t even think to ask.

He was tall with broad shoulders and arms that hinted he was able to carry a lot more weight than his slender build implied. His dark hair was soaked with sweat, slightly messy and curling just a little at his neck. His blue paramedic uniform radiated reassurance and authority.

But then again, so had all the uniforms of the men who’d stood in her living room and listened to her stepfather’s lies, while he denied he’d ever lost his temper and hit anyone, pressured her mom to say she was clumsy and branded Daisy hysterical.

Daisy’s eyes met Max’s again. They were green, with a look in their depths that spoke of protection, security and warmth. Suddenly she realized she was holding the scissors so loosely he could’ve probably knocked them from her fingers and taken it at any time. Her grip tightened. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I will not let you hurt Fitz.”

“Understood,” he said. “I just want to take a look at him to make sure he’s okay. He looks fine from here but I won’t know for sure until I can take a more thorough look. Let’s start by walking back to my vehicle where the light is better. Then we can stand and argue there if you’d like. Judging by the look of the accident, the state of the car seat and his type of cry, I’m pretty sure he’s not injured. But I still need to check.”

She felt her lips curl into a smile again. He had this way of talking that her aunt would have referred to disparagingly as “a bit of cheek.” But it wasn’t rude. Not at all. It was more like he was constantly trying to lighten the mood just enough to reassure her that she didn’t have to be afraid. It was comforting.

“Okay. Just don’t try anything funny.” She straightened her rucksack on one shoulder, slid the scissors into her belt and picked up Fitz’s car seat with the opposite hand.

Max reached to pick up the flashlight and she saw the curve of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She followed him back through the woods to his paramedic vehicle. Max ran the light over the back of it. The right rear fender looked like a giant hand had punched it.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can give you some money to cover repairs and to pay for gas.”

“Please don’t worry about it,” he said. “Now, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to double-check that Fitz is every bit as healthy as we both think he is.”

She nodded and set the car seat down. She hadn’t managed to salvage the toy boat Gerry had thoughtfully bought his son. But Fitz had somehow managed to pull the soft yellow fabric sail off and now clutched it to his cheek like a blanket. “Max is going to take a quick look at you and make sure you’re okay. Nothing to worry about.”

She wasn’t sure if she was reassuring Fitz or herself. Either way, she stepped back and watched as he approached, crouched down and gently brushed his fingers along Fitz’s pudgy limbs. Fitz looked up at Max. His huge baby blue eyes filled with wonderment. Yeah, she knew how he felt.

“You’re okay, aren’t you, buddy?” Max said, softly. He reached into the car seat and carefully pulled Fitz out and into his arms.

Daisy’s breath caught in her throat. Every muscle in her body tensed. The only other person she’d ever seen hold Fitz were those moments she left him and Gerry alone to open and play with whatever new toy he’d brought. Not even Anna had shown any interest in holding her stepson. Daisy always figured she needed time to warm up. Now she never would.

“Can you hold him?” Max asked. Without missing a beat, he slipped Fitz into her waiting arms even as she felt her hands reach out instinctively to take him. “I find with a child this small, a lot of caregivers are more comfortable if they hold him during an examination.”

She watched and waited while Max carefully checked Fitz’s eyes and ran his hands over his limbs. Fitz chortled, and his laughter made something catch in Daisy’s throat.

“He’s teething,” she said. “Lower gum on the right side. He’s been fussing more than usual and has a slight fever that comes and goes.”

“All very normal.” Max nodded seriously. Then he stepped back and checked the car seat over. “Everything seems fine. No sign of injury, trauma or distress. The fact the car seat didn’t sustain any damage is a good sign. Still, you shouldn’t reuse a car seat after it’s been in an accident. But the rental place should have one and I do have a spare one in my vehicle we can use for now. Now, how about you? Any pain from the accident? How are you feeling?”

He looked at her pensively, like she was a bomb he needed to defuse or a problem he needed to solve.

“I’m fine,” she said. “A bit stiff and sore, but I’ll live. Now, tell me, why are you doing this?”

He paused. There was no smile on his face now. But even with a slight frown, there was still something soft about his face. “I told you. You’re in trouble and you need help.”

The moon disappeared behind the clouds. A shiver ran down her back. “I told you I didn’t want your help.”

“I know,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

The rain fell suddenly, in just a few scattered drops like the splattering of a garden hose. Fitz screamed. Daisy wrapped her arms around him and ran for the shelter of the truck. Max opened the back door for her, and she climbed onto the back seat and held Fitz on her lap while Max ran back around to get the car seat.

She looked around the vehicle. She’d thought it was a police vehicle when she’d first passed it. Now she saw it was actually a truck, with both a front and a back seat. The covered truck bed was filled with brightly colored and neatly stacked bags of medical equipment, with labels like Primary Response, Secondary Response and Pediatric. The front of the unit had a laptop, a huge screen and some kind of radio device.

Fitz squealed happily and tried to lunge between the seats to push the shiny buttons. She caught him. “I think Fitz wants to play with your toys.”

Max laughed. “I don’t blame him. I’ve got some pretty snazzy gadgets.” He leaned in the opposite door and strapped the car seat in.

“What is this thing you’re driving anyway?” she asked. “I thought it was a police vehicle at first.”

“A rapid-response unit can do everything an ambulance can do except transport an injured person to hospital,” Max said. Raindrops brushed the strong lines of his jaw. He clipped the seat belt in place around the car seat, then pulled it carefully, checking each strap in turn. “Think of it like this, if you get into an accident, a rapid-response vehicle will probably get there first, then an ambulance if needed. Or, if neither can reach you, we’ll send in an air-ambulance helicopter, which happens a lot around here.”

“Do you ever fly the helicopter?” she asked.

“I fly in the helicopter, but I don’t pilot it,” he said. “I do know how to fly a helicopter, though. I’ve taken enough piloting lessons. I’ve just never tested for my pilot’s license.”

“Why not?” She felt her nose crinkle. “If I could fly something, nothing would stop me.”

He stepped back as if something about her comment surprised him.

She slid across the seat and buckled Fitz in. Then she ran around to the passenger-side door as Max opened it for her. Now she could see there was a full computer keyboard mounted between the two front seats and a whole lot of red-and-brown takeout coffee cups on the floor.

He blushed and quickly swept the trash into a black garbage bag that he yanked out from somewhere under the seat. He waited until she got in and closed the door behind her, before running back around and getting in the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition and pulled back onto the road.

“Usually people ask me the opposite question. Why did I train to fly a helicopter, considering paramedics aren’t pilots?” he said after a long moment, and she wondered how much he’d been playing her question around in his head.

“What do you tell them?” she asked.

“I tell people it’s because I’ve got two older brothers,” he said. “Trent and Jacob are eight and ten years older than me. I grew up chasing after them and trying to prove I could do whatever they could do, while always suspecting they looked at me like the annoying little brother who couldn’t keep up. Sitting in the helicopter while some other man or woman flies me around irked me. It felt too much like getting my brothers to drive me around places in the family car. I have this weird independent streak.”

“I left home at sixteen and had hiked around most of Britain and Europe by the time I was twenty-one,” she said. “I think I can beat you when it comes to independence.”

“I didn’t think it was a competition, but if it is, then you win!” He laughed and ran his hand over his head. “I don’t have a good answer as to why I never got my pilot’s license. Maybe because I’m very happy with how my life is right now and don’t want someone getting the bright idea I should make a career shift. Or maybe I’ve just always hated tests and competitions. Like, really hated them. Turning things from fun to serious ruined them for me.

“When I was a kid, my dad built this huge shooting-and-paintball range in the woods behind our house. We all learned to shoot. Both Trent and my little brother, Nick, went on to enter competitions and win trophies and medals. I just shot for fun. Or maybe I was too clumsy and hated being showed up by my overly confident little brother. Nick’s four years younger than me and he’s got the cute-baby-of-the-family thing going for him. I didn’t have that advantage.”

Oh, she didn’t know about that. Max seemed plenty cute from where she was sitting. He cut her a sideways glance, a casual and slightly wry grin slid across his mouth and something in his eyes sparkled.

She felt a sudden heat rise to her face. None of this was personal. He was only making conversation to ease her fears. He had to be. Yet, for a moment she caught a glimpse of the man he could be when there wasn’t a gunman or crisis at hand. It was a nice look.

“No sisters?” she asked.

Then just as suddenly as it appeared, the light faded from his eyes. He turned and stared ahead through the windshield, his hands tightened on the steering wheel at exactly ten and two. A frown crossed his mouth and his head shook slightly.

Okay, so she’d take that as a no.

Or at the very least, a no comment.

Silence filled the vehicle, punctuated by the occasional squeak of the windshield wipers as they wiped away the intermitted sprays of rain.

“As you’ve probably guessed, I’m English,” she said, after a long moment. “This is my first trip to Canada and I’ve done absolutely no sightseeing. Literally all I’ve seen is Fitz’s house and some highway. But I’ve traveled all around Europe and the UK. Even a bit of the Middle East and northern Africa. I grew up in this really tiny town where everybody knew everybody. I have four half siblings, but they’re all a lot younger than me. My stepfather and I never got on, so I left home at sixteen and moved in with my aunt. I finished school early, got a childcare diploma and traveled a lot. Then I started working for a temp agency. Turned out being a nanny was a great job to have for someone who liked traveling.”

She wasn’t quite sure why she was telling him all that. Maybe it was because she wanted him to know that there was more to her than some helpless person he’d picked up from the side of the road. She was tough and, yeah, she was probably a couple of years younger than he was, but she’d lived.

Not that it really mattered what he thought of her. He’d be gone from her life in an hour.

She waited until he seemed lost in thought, slid her rucksack open and ran her thumb slowly over the stack of hundred-dollar bills, tilting her bag so Max couldn’t see in. They were wrapped together so tightly she could barely wiggle one out with her fingers. Why would Gerry have that much money just lying around in his car? Was it emergency money? Did he know she’d have to run with Fitz?

She pulled out the cell phone that she’d found with the money and turned it on. It asked for a password. She turned it off again, dropped it back in the bag and leaned back against the seat. So much for her idea of using it as a backup phone.

Gerry had texted exactly twice on the phone he’d given her when she’d fled. The first was a very long text, telling her that Anna had died, but that he was fine and recovering from smoke inhalation in a Montreal hospital. He added that she should be very cautious but that he was hopeful he’d get a good and trustworthy cop to meet up with her en route. His second text was just two words long: How’s Fitz?

At the time, she’d texted back that he was fine and that she was making good time. But that was before the accident. Now she wasn’t sure what to tell him or when.

It was almost two o’clock in the morning now. Surely, Gerry would be asleep. Either that or dealing with enough other worries. But the guilt of worrying him with the news that his son had been in an accident was less than the guilt of not telling him. Her phone was down to just one bar of cell signal that kept flickering in and out.

She wrote him a very short text, with the bare minimum of information and the repeated assurance that Fitz was fine. The message-sending symbol circled before finally giving her a bright red alert that the text hadn’t gone, but the phone would try to send it again when it got a better signal.

She leaned her head back against the seat and prayed she’d be able to text him that they were back en route soon.

She glanced at Max. His brow was crinkled.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“Fitz’s mother,” Max said. He frowned. “I’m sorry, it’s an occupational hazard. Your comment raised a medical question, and now I want to know an answer. I promised I wouldn’t pry and I mean it. But you told me that she died in childbirth. And the statistical likelihood of that happening is about one in ten thousand babies born in Canada. I’ve delivered my fair share of roadside babies, and I’ve never lost one yet. So I’m wondering what her specific complications were or if they’re congenital.”

“I have no idea,” she admitted. The phone Gerry gave her buzzed. She glanced at the screen. It was a new text from an unknown number.

Hello, Daisy.

A friendly word of warning. Do not underestimate the people who are out to steal Fitz or what they’ll do to get their hands on him. Trust no one. Anna Pearce intentionally sabotaged your work-visa paperwork. That means you’re here illegally. If you go to police, you will be arrested; you will be deported; Fitz will be taken and you’ll never see my little boy again.

Jane.

Daisy’s hand rose to her lips as horror swept over her heart. Jane was Fitz’s birth mother.

And she was dead.

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