Midwife Cover. Cassie Miles

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      She wanted to go after him and provide the kind of backup he’d need in facing an armed-and-dangerous suspect. But her first concern was protecting the infant.

      Petra scrambled over the center console and got behind the wheel. There were two bullet holes in the windshield. The shooter hadn’t been kidding around. He wanted them dead.

      More gunshots split the air. She heard a high-pitched scream. Where was Cole? Where were the other deputies?

      There wasn’t room on the road to turn around, so she flipped the SUV into Reverse. As she backed up, her headlights lit up the scene that played out in front of her. She braked to a stop and took her gun from the holster.

      Brady was facing a gunman who held a woman carelessly around her waist. Her hands were fastened behind her back, and she was yelling in Spanish. Ayudame. Help me.

      Both men dodged behind tree trunks. Even though Brady was returning gunfire shot for shot, she knew he wasn’t taking aim. He wouldn’t risk hitting the hostage. Nor would she.

      But Petra might provide a distraction. She buzzed down her window and fired her weapon into the air.

      The gunman swung toward her. With his arm outstretched, he aimed at the SUV and fired. Bullets smacked against the hood. In the backseat behind her, the baby continued to cry.

      She ducked, barely peeking over the dashboard, and she saw Brady make his move. With one running step, he mounted a rock that was the size of an ottoman. Using that height, he launched himself through the air toward the gunman. It was the boldest, bravest, stupidest thing she’d ever seen in her life. But it worked. Brady knocked the gunman off his feet.

      Her breath caught in her throat. The two men struggled on the ground amid the brush. She couldn’t tell what was happening. Desperately, she wanted to help, to leave the SUV and go to Brady’s aid.

      Another vehicle rumbled toward her. She recognized her truck. Cole was coming back toward them from Doc’s house.

      In the glow of her headlights, she saw Brady stagger to his feet. He held the woman against his chest. His gun was aimed at the suspect on the ground.

      Relief washed through her. And pride. Brady might think of himself as someone who would never break the rules, but she was pretty sure that his diving leap at an armed suspect wasn’t standard FBI procedure. He’d taken a risk, a big one.

      She wriggled in her seat, wanting to rush toward him. But she knew the protocol. Until she was one-hundred-percent sure it was safe, she needed to stay in the car with the baby whose cries had faded to a whimper.

      With gun drawn, Cole went toward Brady and the woman. They talked for a moment. Cole took custody of the suspect on the ground. Brady freed the ties that bound the woman’s hands behind her back and helped her toward the SUV.

      Leaning on Brady’s arm, the dark-haired woman limped forward. She had bandages on both forearms. Her clothes were spattered with blood, bruises marred her face and her long dark hair hung in a tangled mass. Still, she dragged herself toward her baby.

      Petra got out of the SUV and opened the back door. In seconds, she freed the baby from the carrier. Holding the tiny bundle, she went toward Brady and the mother whose arms were raised, reaching desperately.

      When Petra handed her the child, the woman gasped. She sank to her knees on the ground, cradling her infant to her breast. She rocked back and forth, holding him and quietly sobbing.

      Before Petra could compliment Brady on his rescue, he said, “She told me there were only two men. The guy in custody and Escher who we already know is dead. Ask her again. I need to be sure.”

      Petra hunkered down beside the woman. “He’s all right. Your baby is all right.”

      Her exhausted eyes sought Petra’s face. “Mijo es bueno.”

      “Si, muy bueno.” She smiled and gently rested her hand on the woman’s trembling shoulders. “What’s his name? ¿Cómo se llamo?”

      “Miguel.”

      “And your name?”

      “Consuela.”

      In Spanish, Petra asked if there were any other bad guys. Consuela replied that there were only the two, and Escher wasn’t a bad man. He had tried to help her and to save Miguel.

      Petra rose and faced Brady. “She says it was just the two of them.”

      “I’ll take her word for it.”

      She heard police sirens approaching and glanced toward Cole. He had the suspect sitting on the ground with his hands cuffed behind his back. “What about Doc and the deputy? Are they okay?”

      “Cole entered the clinic and found them both tied up. The deputy had been knocked unconscious. Doc is taking care of him.”

      “I’m surprised this guy didn’t kill them.”

      “He’s not stupid enough to kill a deputy.”

      Through the trees, she saw the red and blue lights of an approaching ambulance and a police vehicle. As soon as they all arrived, regular police procedure would take over, and she’d be shunted out of the way.

      She’d probably never see Brady Masters again, which shouldn’t have bothered her. The uptight fed wasn’t her type. If they spent more time in each other’s company, they’d surely drive each other crazy. Still, she felt a twinge of regret … and a bit of curiosity.

      “I have a question, Brady. How did you know I’m afraid of fire?”

      “Are you asking me to give away my profiler secrets?”

      “I am.”

      He took her elbow and pulled her aside, creating a bubble of privacy as the ambulance parked. He leaned close. His gaze rested gently on her face, and his voice was just above a whisper as he confided, “When we were at the clinic, you blew out the candle before you left the room. Since you’re a rule-breaker, that precaution seemed out of character, unless you have a fear of fire.”

      “Very observant.” When she smiled at him, he did the same, and she noticed a dimple on the left side of his mouth. “And how did you know I’m from San Francisco?”

      “That was easy. There’s a beat-up orange-and-black Giants baseball cap on the file cabinet nearest your desk.”

      “Of course,” she said. “I wear it so often I don’t even notice it anymore.”

      “I noticed a lot about you, Petra.” As an SUV with the Grand County sheriff’s logo on the side parked behind the ambulance, he stepped away from her. “I might need to contact you again. I have some questions of my own.”

      “You know where to find me.”

      He strode toward the other officers and the paramedics who were helping the mother and baby. Immediately, Brady took charge, issuing orders that nobody seemed to question.

      She wondered if they’d meet again. They seemed to connect СКАЧАТЬ