“I’m on my way.”
“Not right away,” she said. “When you come for your sitting, see me first.”
She ended the phone call. I need him.
* * *
PETRA’S PHONE CALL LIT Brady’s fuse. Even though she’d used their code word, she didn’t want him there until one o’clock—less than an hour from right now.
It wasn’t enough time.
He’d compiled a significant amount of evidence. Research on Terabian indicated that the doctor was already wanted for trafficking in black market organs. His association with Lost Lamb was enough to shut down the place.
If that wasn’t enough, Cole’s visit to Mancuso’s office had produced a double set of books, similar to accounting ledgers. But this paperwork pertained to adoptions. Using a facade of legal birth certificates and adoption papers, Mancuso ran illegal adoptions that amounted to selling the babies.
For the past couple of hours, Brady had used every shred of his organizational skill to arrange for a two-pronged bust. In a simultaneous action, the FBI would take over the compound where Terabian had his clinic and Lost Lamb.
For the assault at the compound, Brady set up a team of FBI agents under the command of the ITEP task force. Because the guards at that location were armed and dangerous, they’d use a military strike. The chopper was on the way.
The arrests at Lost Lamb required more finesse. This was a potential hostage situation; they had to be careful not to let the pregnant women get caught in the cross fire. Brady had assigned Cole to lead the effort. Along with four other men recruited from local law enforcement, Cole would disarm Robert and the other men who worked there. And he would take Francine into custody.
She was the primary target. From the evidence, Brady knew that Francine was running the show. She was the spider at the center of the web.
Brady was waiting for Cole to get here. As soon as he arrived, they’d go over the details. The two-pronged assault would start. But Brady couldn’t wait. Petra needed him.
He checked his wristwatch. Six minutes had passed since the last time he looked. He paced through his studio, through the bedroom and onto the balcony overlooking the front of his house. Last night, he and Petra stood right here, caressed by moonlight, warmed by each other’s bodies.
He returned to his studio. His plan of attack was meticulously outlined on the whiteboard. Details were arranged. Possible obstacles were accounted for.
The bug in Francine’s office was on. If she had any suspicion of what was happening, he’d know it first. A hell of a lot of good it would do him if he was here while Petra was taken hostage.
Through the transmission from the bug, he heard Margaret complaining, and Francine telling her that she was a disappointment. When this was over, Margaret would be an invaluable source of information if she could be convinced to turn on the woman she called Miss Francine.
Under his bulletproof vest, his skin itched. He was protected, but Petra wasn’t. She was at the ranch, caught in the web. Three more minutes ticked by.
Brady placed the call to Cole. “I’m going in. I’m leaving the house right now.”
“Hold on,” Cole said. “I’m about twelve minutes away from your place.”
“It’s all arranged. You’re in charge.”
Brady couldn’t wait.
Petra needed him.
As he drove away from the house, he knew that he was behaving in an irresponsible manner. Protecting Petra wasn’t his primary objective of these arrests. But it was the only thought in his head. He had to keep her safe.
Even though he was early for his appointment, he knew Francine wouldn’t object. He’d stowed the canvas with her portrait in the back of the truck. That picture was his ticket inside. He had managed to turn Francine’s cruel, grasping nature into a cold beauty. She’d love it.
As he approached the entrance to Lost Lamb, his phone rang. He answered, “What?”
“I’m at your house,” Cole said. “Your plan is clear. I can take it from here.”
“Good.” Because there wasn’t a choice. Brady had to be at Petra’s side. “Start when you’re ready.”
“Take care of her, buddy.”
“I will.”
The only other time in his life when Brady had allowed his emotions to rule his actions was when he fought back against his abusive father to rescue his sister. It hadn’t been the smartest thing to do, but it was necessary.
He had to be sure Petra was all right. She was everything to him.
* * *
BRADY DROVE THE TRUCK past the main house toward the birthing suite at the rear. His undercover identity was pretty much blown, but he didn’t want to come across as a federal agent on an arrest mission. Still, he clipped his Beretta to his hip.
There was a horse standing outside the room where Petra was delivering Dee. What the hell was that about? As Brady left the truck, he heard music from inside.
Without knocking, he whipped open the door. A strange scene confronted him. Dee was on the bed, halfway sitting up and leaning forward. Robert was behind her, supporting her against his massive chest. And Petra was in position to deliver the baby.
Petra had been working hard, and he could tell. He saw the strain in her features. When she looked up at him, recognition flashed in her eyes. She whispered, “You’re here.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Good vibes,” she said. “Send out good vibes.”
If she’d asked him to strip naked and chant, he would have done it. He stepped back and watched as she did her job.
Staring at Dee, Petra said, “I can see the top of his head. You’re almost done. One more push.”
“I can’t,” Dee wailed.
Robert’s low voice rumbled. “You’re doing great. You’re going to have this baby.”
Brady had seen a baby being born once before. When his sister was in labor, he’d been in the delivery room with her husband. They’d been in a hospital with everything sanitary and sterile, but his sister matched Dee in intensity and strength.
She pushed. And pushed. Petra encouraged her, and she pushed again.
He saw the baby, saw as the infant took his first breath and made a cry that sounded like a hiccup.
As Petra cheered and Dee sobbed, he and Robert stared at each other in amazement. There was no greater miracle. Brady was stunned.
He watched as Petra did her job, cleaning the baby and sucking mucus from the nostrils. Red-faced, the tiny boy squalled. His arms and legs jerked and wiggled. He was perfect.
Petra looked to Robert. “You washed your hands, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Have you ever held a baby before?”
“Yes.” Brady was touched when he saw the big man’s eyes fill with tears.
“Get over here,” Petra said. “Put this blanket over your sleeve and take the baby while I finish up with Dee.”
Brady moved to stand beside Robert. In a few minutes, he could be arresting this man, but for right now they were the same. When Petra placed the tiny bundle in Robert’s arms, both men stood in awe.
Returning to Dee, Petra kept up a soothing dialogue while she cut the cord and delivered the afterbirth. She was gentle and efficient at the same time. He couldn’t help but admire her skill.
Someday, he thought, this might happen for them. He and Petra might become parents. He wanted that for her.
After she cleaned up and got Dee settled on the bed again, Petra took the baby and held him to her breast.
“Be healthy,” she whispered into the tiny ear. “Be strong. Be wise.”
Brady was overwhelmed with emotions. He could almost see the light from the good vibes she was always talking about. The world was, indeed, a beautiful place.
He gently wrapped his arm around her waist. “You’re going to make a great mom.”
She shook her head. “This won’t happen for me. I can’t have children.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Alone at the house, Petra locked the front door, climbed the staircase and collapsed on the bed she and Brady had shared last night. She stared up at the ceiling and replayed that terrible moment when she’d told Brady that she wasn’t physically capable of giving him a child.
His gaze had turned inward, and his gray eyes had gone blank. There had been no mistaking his shock. After he’d drawn in a sharp intake of breath, he’d tried to reassure her and tell her that it was all right. He’d done his best to cover his disappointment, but she’d seen how he felt. That moment would be forever branded in her memory.
He wanted a normal life with a little ranch house and a couple of acres. He wanted a dog. And babies. He hoped for twins, and she couldn’t make any promises.
Everything else that happened at Lost Lamb was a blur. There had been a lot of shouting and police officers with guns. Brady had drawn his Beretta and pointed it at Robert.
“I have to arrest you,” he’d said. “I’m sorry.”
The big man hadn’t resisted. He’d merely shrugged his giant shoulders. “I guess I knew this was coming.”
“How much do you know?”
“Francine is running some kind of scam with the babies. She’s got that lawyer and the doctor working for her. They aren’t decent folks.”
“Why didn’t you quit?”
“I was going to.” He’d looked at Dee and grinned. “Then she showed up, and I couldn’t just leave her here.”
Lying back on the pillows, Dee had gazed at him with tenderness that surprised Petra. Giving birth just might have been the best thing that had ever happened to the diva. In the space of a few hours, she’d matured. When she’d promised Robert that she’d wait for him, Petra had believed her.
After that, the birthing suite had been invaded by uniformed deputies and patrolmen. As soon as Petra had been certain that Dee, her baby and the other women were safe, she’d left. Cole had arranged for one of the officers to drive her here. Brady had stayed behind.
Their arrests at the Lost Lamb hadn’t been an unqualified success. Two people had escaped—Francine and Margaret.
Brady had, of course, blamed himself. “Lack of organization,” he’d said to her.
“You’ll find them.”
“Margaret will turn up. One of the officers is taking care of her son. I don’t think she’ll leave the boy behind.”
But Petra hadn’t been so sure. She’d seen Margaret’s dark side in the way she treated Dee. Quiet, little Margaret had been willing to turn over the newborn to some dangerous third party. A woman like that was capable of just about anything.
Rolling over on the bed, Petra buried her face in the pillows. She smelled Brady on the sheets. She remembered their passion and a shiver went through her. Their lovemaking had been special. More than passionate, he had touched her in unimaginable ways. I need him. Those three little words had never been part of her vocabulary when it came to relationships.
She’d always been the caretaker, the one who made things work. That didn’t happen with Brady. They shared and compromised. Needing him wasn’t a sign of weakness; it was strength. They were stronger together than apart.
But she couldn’t give him the normal life he wanted. Long ago, she’d made her peace with not being able to get pregnant. After delivering dozens of babies, Petra was happy with adoption as a viable alternative. She wouldn’t mind using a surrogate—not a forced surrogate like Dee who agreed to that contract for all the wrong reasons. Monitored surrogacy through legal channels was a good thing…if Brady agreed.
As she found herself drifting in that more positive direction, the phone rang. It was Brady.
His voice was low and concerned. “How are you doing?”
She wanted to tell him that she hadn’t meant to drop that emotional bombshell on him while he was in the midst of an operation. She wished that she could have been more controlled and rational. All she said was, “I’m okay.”
“I wanted to give you an update on what happened at the compound we uncovered last night. Our guys closed in. There was a firefight with the guards, but they surrendered pretty quickly. The FBI apprehended Terabian.”
“Were you right about him? Was he harvesting organs?”
“Yes.”
Brady was terse, and she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know the details. “What about the surrogates?”
“Terabian was handling that, too. They found frozen embryos at the compound.”
Sadness trickled through her. These two medical procedures—in vitro fertilization and organ transplant—should have been used for good. Instead, they’d been horribly corrupted by Terabian and the human traffickers.
“What about Mancuso?” she asked.
“Under arrest,” Brady said. “The only real screwup in both operations was mine. It’s my fault that Francine and Margaret escaped.”
Because he’d rushed to her side. “You’ll find them.”
“I know.” He paused. “Petra, I want you to know that…”
“Stop,” she said. “I don’t want to talk about anything important over the phone. I need to see your face.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, probably in an hour or so.”
An “I love you” poised on the tip of her tongue, but she held back. Those words should be spoken in person. “Bye, Brady. Be careful.”
“You, too.”
She inhaled a deep, cleansing breath and slowly exhaled, releasing the tension from her muscles. There were a million things to think about, but this had been an exhausting day and her throat was sore from belting out show tunes. She closed her eyes, intending to rest for just a minute or two.
When she wakened, Petra wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep. More than a minute, that was for sure. Was she even awake? A sense of dread hung around her. There was a nightmare feel in the air.
She smelled the fire and saw the smoke. Blinking furiously, she tried to clear her vision. This wasn’t happening; it couldn’t be.
She staggered to her feet. Looking down, she saw the gray tendrils clinging to her legs and whisking across the hardwood floor. On the landing, she spotted the primary source of the fire. Bright orange flames leaped from Brady’s studio, reaching toward her with fierce claws. She had to escape. But the staircase was already burning. There was no way down. No way out.
She stood like a statue, terrified and paralyzed. Her thoughts reached out toward Brady, telling him all the things she’d never have a chance to say. Brady, I love you. She loved him. She wanted to be with him. I need you.
Her worst fear was coming true. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d been scared of the fires her father investigated. When she told him, he’d laughed and said she had nothing to worry about unless she was a witch who’d be burned at the stake. That comment was probably the main reason she’d never fully embraced Wiccan practices.
The floor beneath her boots was steaming. The heat of the fire in the studio seared her skin. Her lungs were burning from the smoke. She had to escape.
Forcing herself to move, she returned to the bedroom. She and Brady had gone over this before. He’d made a plan, and she knew the balcony was the best way to get out of the house. The moment she stepped outside, she heard a gunshot.
Petra dropped to the floor of the cedar balcony. She heard a loud voice.
“Might as well stay inside,” Francine yelled. “You’ll be unconscious from the smoke in a few seconds.”
Petra coughed. Francine was correct. The smoke was already poisoning her breath. “You won’t get away with this.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. This is how I’ll get away. The fire will destroy any evidence Brady has against me. Without evidence, I’ll claim I didn’t know what Mancuso and Terabian were doing.”
Through the bedroom door, she could see the fire moving closer, consuming everything in its path. “Let me go. You don’t need to kill me.”
“That wasn’t my intention. You fall under the category of collateral damage.
You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Petra scrambled to her knees, and Francine fired at her again. Petra sank flat. “Let me get out. We can talk.”
“If I see your face, I’ll shoot.”
The flames crackled like dry laughter. The fire was coming for her. “Somebody is going to come. They’ll see the smoke.”
“September is a bad time of year for wildfires,” Francine said. “Lots of people will be up here to respond. The fire department and the volunteers, they’ll be all over the place. Nobody will notice me slipping away.”
Her plan was horrible in its simplicity. She’d probably get away with it, and there was nothing Petra could do to stop her. She was trapped by the flames. I won’t die like this. She’d rather be shot.
Raising her head, she peered through the railing. At the edge of the driveway leading to their house, she saw a figure on horseback. It couldn’t be Robert because Brady had arrested him.
Margaret! Quiet, unassuming, little Margaret had been watching her and Brady. She’d been following them. She’d as much as admitted it.
Margaret raised a rifle to her shoulder and aimed at Francine. “Drop your gun.”
Francine whirled. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to put an end to you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Francine said. “We can work together. I’ve got plenty of money tucked away in an off-shore account. We’ll be fine.”
“I’m not like you, Mother.”
“Actually, that’s true.” Francine sounded smug. “You’re not like me. You won’t be able to pull that trigger.”
Francine turned her gun at Margaret. Before she could aim, Petra’s truck crashed into the yard. Brady leaped out. Gun in hand, he charged toward Francine. He was so dominant, so fierce that he didn’t even have to speak.
The instant Francine saw him, she tossed her weapon to the ground and raised her hands over her head. The officer accompanying Brady kept her in his sights as he approached.
Brady kept coming until he stood directly below her. “Come on, Petra. You’ve got to climb down.”
“I know.” The smoke was making her dizzy.
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