Christmas Conspiracy. Susan Sleeman

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      He commanded an emergency response team, leading them into some of the most volatile and dangerous situations law enforcement deputies could encounter, but a baby, let alone one whose cry gave emergency sirens a run for their money, brought more fear to his heart than the toughest spots he’d been in.

      He hadn’t had any experience with babies since he’d lost both of his siblings when he was a mere kid himself, but he figured she wanted to be held. Or changed. Once they got inside, he’d hold her. But the other? No way. He wasn’t about to attempt that.

      To comfort her, he gently swung the carrier as he walked, each swing like a knife to his chest, but the motion served to slow the crying to a whimper. Inside, he found the director still unconscious on the floor. He hurried over to her, set down the carrier and knelt next to her. He released the carrier to lay two fingers on her wrist. Her pulse beat hard but her breathing seemed shallow.

      “So, Rachael Long,” he mumbled. “What did the guy inject you with?”

      He wished Darcie Stevens, the team medic, had been with them. She possessed the training needed to enter a volatile situation and would already be tending to the director. Other medics didn’t have such skills. They were required to wait until the suspect no longer posed a threat to their safety before treating Ms. Long.

      Jake adjusted his mic. “Are there medics standing by, Cash?”

      “Affirmative.”

      “Send them in as soon as you’re sure it’s safe.” Jake rocked the carrier as he looked at Rachael.

      The heater kicked in, sending a whiff of her sweet perfume wrapping around him and temporarily overpowering the antiseptic odor of bleach permeating the air. About five-five, she was small compared to his six-foot-two frame. She appeared fit, had curling, shoulder-length hair and freckles peppered high cheeks. She seemed sweet, almost innocent. Exactly what he’d expect of a child care director.

      She wore a wedding ring, but preliminary information gathered as the team raced toward the scene told him she’d lost her husband in a car crash about four years ago, and she hadn’t remarried.

      Now she lay there. Near death? He wanted to do something to help.

      He jumped to his feet and retrieved a few child-sized blankets from the cribs. He returned to cover her, then turned his attention to Kelly, whose cries had escalated. He ripped off his tactical gloves and took off his helmet, figuring it might be scaring her. Then he released her restraints and lifted her into his arms. The steel plates of his vest weren’t likely comfortable, so he lowered her and held her slightly away from his body while he rocked back and forth.

      “Shh,” he whispered and listened to the chatter on his comms unit to keep updated on the chase.

      The kidnapper had disappeared from Brady’s view, so Cash had called in a search dog. Jake didn’t get his hopes up, though. Since most properties were fenced in the city, and dogs often lost the scent at fence lines, odds were against them in locating the kidnapper.

      Jake continued to listen while rocking the baby until she settled down and drifted to sleep. The front door opened, and the sound of gurney wheels finally echoed down the hallway.

      Two men entered. The thin guy who stepped in first wore a Santa hat. The other guy was bald and tough-looking, and Jake suspected he’d never worn a Santa hat in his life.

      Jake stepped back to give them access to Rachael. “You up to speed on the incident?”

      The guy with the hat knelt on the floor next to Rachael. “The woman was injected with something and is unconscious but breathing.”

      “Exactly,” Jake replied.

      “Dog has lost the scent,” Brady said over Jake’s earbuds, then reported his exact location.

      “Widen the perimeter and stand ready,” Jake replied. “We’ll have to hope 911 receives a call reporting the kidnapper’s movements.”

      And hope he doesn’t harm anyone as he makes his escape.

      “Roger that.” Disappointment lingered in Brady’s tone.

      Suddenly weary beyond his thirty-five years, Jake ran a hand over tense muscles in his neck and watched the medics do their thing. Once they had an IV going, they loaded Rachael onto the gurney.

      An overwhelming desire to protect her and Kelly from additional harm rose up and caught him off guard. He worked each callout with the thought that he would do everything he could so he didn’t have to live with regret, but he’d never taken a personal interest in the people he rescued.

      Until right now. But why?

      Could have to do with losing his infant sister and six-year-old brother, he supposed. When he’d just turned thirteen, they, and his parents, perished in a bombing, leaving him with a soft spot in his heart for children in danger and the special people who cared for them. And a burning desire to see anyone who threatened them pay for their actions.

      He glanced at Ms. Long on the gurney as the medics strapped her in, and her eyelids fluttered.

      Lord, please. I know you decide who lives or dies, but please let this woman live. Please.

      Jake crossed the room and stood over her. She blinked a few times and seemed almost lucid.

      “Who are you?” she asked, her voice sounding thick and heavy. Then her eyes widened. “Kelly!”

      “She’s fine and right here.” Jake held the baby up for Rachael to see.

      “Thank you, sweet Jesus,” Rachael whispered, her words slurred. “You were looking out for us.”

      Her lips tipped up in a sweet smile, and Jake’s heart hesitated. Despite the medics standing by, he couldn’t seem to pull his gaze from hers.

      “We should get her and the baby transported,” the medic said, ruining the moment.

      “We’re going with you.” Jake reluctantly pulled away and settled Kelly in her carrier, then glanced back at Rachael. He wasn’t sure if Kelly or Rachael looked more vulnerable.

      Didn’t matter, now, did it?

      There was no way he’d let anything bad happen to either of them. He’d make sure they were both protected until he was certain that neither of them remained in danger.

      * * *

      Rachael saw the light flashing over her head before she opened her eyes. Bright fluorescent tubes wavered in and out of her view in squiggly lines. She concentrated harder and battled the residual fog from the drug.

      She heard rushed, hurried voices in the distance. Smelled the antiseptic of the hospital, reminding her she lay in a hard bed in the ER. She’d woken thirty minutes ago and talked to the doctor, but the drug’s effects kept pulling her back under. She had to try harder to stay awake so she could talk to Pam and see Kelly.

      She blinked hard and made an effort to clear her vision.

      “She’s awake,” a deep male voice said from across the small room.

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