by Valery Parv
"I know." He sounded hoarse and his eyes swam. He blinked hard and martialed some resource within himself. She suspected it would be needed to get them both through this. "What can we do?" he asked the officer.
"At the moment, wait."
Zeke's anger flared. "To hell with that, my son is in there."
"I know it's hard, but our negotiator is on the job. If the other lady's right, her husband loves the baby so he won't hurt it."
"You can't be sure," Tara said fiercely. Her heart ached and her arms did, too, with the need to hold her child, warm and alive this time, not … she wouldn't let herself remember the other time. Brendan was alive, hang on to that, her inner voice said.
"What are his demands?"
The officer looked relieved at being asked something he could answer. Only Tara sensed that Zeke's composure was no more than surface-deep, a result of years of journalistic experience. She felt his tension radiating along the arm he kept around her.
"He hasn't asked for anything yet," the officer said. "He keeps repeating that no one is going to take his baby away."
"Has he made any threats?"
"Only implicit ones. His wife doesn't think he's armed, but we aren't taking any chances."
Tara wrestled herself free of Zeke's grip. "Listen to yourselves. 'Is he armed? Has he made any threats?' This is my baby you're discussing so calmly. We have to do something."
"They are doing something." Zeke's cold statement cut through her mounting hysteria. "It won't help to fall apart now."
His statement had the desired effect. She wrestled herself back under control. "I can't just stand and wait."
"Doing anything else could put the baby at greater risk," the officer said.
She reined in the part of her wanting to rage and scream, and struggled to match Zeke's composure. It wasn't easy but she drew strength from him, wondering who he was supposed to draw strength from. From her, she realized. She had to be strong for him, and for her baby. She straightened. "There must be something I can do?"
"The negotiators will probably want you to talk to him over a loud-hailer."
"Why can't I go to the house?"
Zeke's expression swiftly vetoed any such idea. "The man is dangerously unpredictable."
"He was sane enough to organize a baby switching racket." She had never imagined that her child was one of his victims.
"He was an underling, paid to falsify records and keep his mouth shut. The real organizers probably held his past over his head to get his cooperation. Since they'd already left the country by the time Brendan was born, I don't think he was meant to be part of the scheme," Zeke said. "Ross's part in the switching scandal probably gave him the idea of stealing ours after his own was stillborn."
Tara had a sudden vision of the small, lifeless body she'd been given to hold and felt anger threaten to swamp her. She held on to Zeke's arm as if to a lifeline, knowing it was the only thing keeping her connected to reality. Without his presence, she would have stormed the house, regardless of the risk. All she could think about was snatching her child from the kidnapper's arms.
She made herself think rationally for Brendan's sake. "Let me talk to Ross."
The officer nodded. "I'll take you to the negotiators. They'll tell you what to say."
"I know what to say. I want my baby back."
"We have to let them guide us," Zeke said. "For the baby's sake."
It was what she'd told herself and she knew she would do what the experts recommended. She would do anything if it brought her baby back safely. She wasn't going to lose him a second time, she vowed silently.
The negotiator, a woman in her thirties, looked alarmingly unprepossessing. It was probably her job to do so, Tara accepted, but only remembering what was at stake stopped her from screaming at her to take immediate action. The woman sensed her hostility. "It's normal to want to rush in with guns blazing, but it's invariably better to talk your way out than to shoot your way in."
The woman's calm manner had the desired effect. "It's so hard."
"I know. If my baby was in there, I'd feel the same way."
Shaking, Tara let herself be led to a police car being used as a shield between the officers and the house. Zeke positioned himself at her side as if glued there. Crouching down and motioning them to do the same, the negotiator handed Tara what looked like a microphone. "Speak into this and you'll he heard inside the house."
Now that she was in the front line, Tara felt her throat close. "What do I say?"
"Tell him who you are. He's been asking for you."
Zeke had told her this. "What does he want from me?"
"He thinks you're plotting to take his child away. He thinks if you tell everyone that the baby is his, we'll believe him."
The microphone dropped from her nerveless fingers. "I can't agree to give up my baby."
The negotiator retrieved the handset and wrapped Tara's icy fingers around it. "You don't have to agree. Just go along for now and let him do the talking. Are you up to trying?"
Tara felt Zeke's hand on her shoulder. She looked at him and he nodded encouragement. She took a shuddering breath. "I'm ready."
"Then go ahead, but try not to say anything to set him off. If you feel tempted, hit this button." She indicated a switch on the side of the handset. "It cuts off the loud-hail."
A sense of unreality overcame Tara but she gulped in air, then hit the switch. "Ross, this is Tara McNiven. What do you want from me?"
The negotiator gave her a thumbs-up sign and mouthed the word, "Good."
Across the street, the front door slowly opened and a man's thin face appeared briefly in the opening before he pulled back. "Come closer, where I can see you," he shouted.
Tara started to rise but the negotiator held her by the arm. "You're not going out there."
"You bet she's not," Zeke muttered under his breath. "If anyone goes out there, it will be me."
The negotiator touched Zeke's shoulder. "Nobody's going anywhere."
He shook off the restraint. "Then let me talk to him."
The negotiator nodded and Tara passed Zeke the handset He clicked it on. "Ross, this is Zeke Blaxland. I've been writing about the hospital."
"I've read your stuff. I didn't steal those babies."
"We know that," Zeke soothed. "That's why I want you to tell your side of the story."
Tara snatched the handset and rammed the off switch home. "What are you doing, taking his side?"
"He's doing exactly the right thing," the negotiator stated. "The aim is to get everybody out of this alive, whatever it takes."
Numbly Tara returned the handset to Zeke and he clicked it on. "Ross, did you hear me?"
"I heard you, but I'm not falling for it. I read the papers. You claim you're my baby's father."
"I never claimed to be Vaughan's father," Zeke returned, choosing his words carefully.
"Tell that to my wife and the police."
"I've already told them. What else can I do?"
"Ask your lady friend to tell them. Then get everybody out and leave me and my family alone."
"First you have to let the baby go, then we can talk," Zeke said.
"You're not taking my son," Ross yelled back. High-pitched wailing reached them through the open door and Tara choked back tears. Her baby was crying and she ached to go to him. Ten months of thinking she had lost him hadn't dulled her mothering instinct. She half rose but Zeke pulled her back down. "Can't you hear him?" she asked dazedly.
"I hear him." He clicked on the loud-hailer. "The baby sounds hungry, Ross. At least let us bring you some food for him."
"There's plenty of food here but it's cold. He won't eat it."
Making a cutting movement across her throat, the negotiator waited until Zeke turned off the handset. "He can't warm the food because we cut off the power."
Tara took the handset again. "Ross, you don't want the baby going hungry, do you? At least let us bring you some warm food for him."
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Zeke made a gesture of negation but she ignored it. "Ross?" she repeated, clenching her fists as the wailing grew louder.
"All right, since he won't eat the cold stuff. But just you, no one else. One more thing."
She braced herself. "What is it?"
"Have someone get you one of those statutory declaration forms from the news agent and write on it that Vaughan is my son and you have no claim on him. Sign it and get it witnessed and bring it with the baby food."
Tara's chest heaved with the effort of holding back sobs, and when she brushed a hand across her face, her cheeks were wet. He wanted her to sign a legal document denying her own child. Wasn't it enough that he had deprived her of the first few months of her baby's life? "I can't," she said.
"You'd better. I'm not giving up my son."
The implied threat was accompanied by a violent sound that made her recoil in horror from what she first thought was a shot, until she realized it was only Ross slamming the door shut. "Wait," she called, hoping he was still listening. "I'll do it."
The door cracked open. "Don't take too long. Vaughan's hungry."
The negotiator took the handset from Tara. "Good work. I'll have someone get the baby food and the declaration. As soon as they're ready, I'll take them in."
"You can't, he knows me," Tara said.
The negotiator paused. "How well?"
"He's the midwife who delivered my baby."
"Damn. Changing clothes with you won't help then." The negotiator thought for a minute. "Okay, but you'll wear a bulletproof vest, and you'll do exactly what we tell you."
She would do anything if it saved her baby, Tara knew. Anything was better than sitting here, wondering what was happening in the house.
Zeke watched her being fitted with the vest. "I should be doing this," he said through gritted teeth. If anything happened to Tara, he would never forgive himself. Exhausted as he was, he hadn't gone to sleep right away last night, as he'd told her he had. Instead he had lain awake wondering what in the devil he was doing.
Putting his mother's ring on her finger had felt more right than anything he'd done in a long time. Several times since then he'd been on the verge of saying he loved her. Why hadn't he? She had made it clear she wasn't about to give up on him, so it came down to whether or not he trusted her.
Why had it been so easy to walk away from Lucy, and so hard when it came to Tara? Because she held custody of his heart, he acknowledged. She wouldn't let him get away with anything less than a soul-deep commitment, and it terrified him.
So why didn't he accept what she offered and count his blessings? Because a casual relationship was no longer enough, he accepted, or he wouldn't have been so eager to show her his house and carry her over the threshold. The truth had been right in front of him all along. He was already committed to her in every way that mattered. All he had to do was tell her.
A police officer duck-walked up to the car with a bottle of baby formula and a document, handing both to Tara. "Should I sign it?" she asked, sounding so strained that it was all Zeke could do not to tear the form out of her hands.
The negotiator shook her head. "It's as legal as it's going to be."
Tara's relief that she didn't have to sign the document was palpable. She turned to Zeke. "Wish me luck."
He pulled her to him, the unaccustomed bulk of the vest under her blouse serving as a grim reminder of what she was facing. "I love you, Tara."
He felt her shock in the stiffening of her body, and her eyes sparked questions at him. Later he would take great pleasure in answering them, he promised himself. He set his jaw, telling himself there would be a later for them because there had to be. It took everything he had to let her go.
As she started to walk toward the house, he barely restrained himself from following her. The threat to his mate and his offspring aroused his most primal protective instincts and he knew the veneer of civilization had never been thinner.
He concentrated on the house. When she reached it, the door opened and Ross put his head around it. Seeing what looked like a baseball bat in the man's hand, Zeke's tension notched impossibly higher. His muscles bunched as the instinct to take on the world for her sake seized him.
He couldn't hear what was said, but she must have asked to see the baby. Amazingly, Ross brought the child to the door and Zeke felt rather than saw the officers around him snap to a new level of alert.
He ignored them, his whole focus on Tara. She reached for the child but Ross pulled the baby back. Her hand skimmed the blanket swaddling the baby then trailed slowly away. Zeke could almost feel how much she yearned to hold her child. He shared the feeling, wanting to hold them both so much that his arms hurt.
She handed Ross the paper and he scanned it eagerly. Tara leaned across him, apparently to point out some detail, and while Ross's attention was diverted for a split second, she acted, snatching the baby and spinning around in one fluid motion. Beside Zeke, the negotiator sprang to her feet. "What does that fool woman think she's doing?"
But Zeke was already up and moving, closing the distance between them with the speed of an Olympic sprinter. He saw Ross hurl the baseball bat after her in fury.
As if in slow motion, the missile arced through the air, aimed at Tara's back. Hunched over to protect the baby, she was defenseless. If the club struck her… Zeke lunged across the space between them, desperate to put himself between her and the missile.
He knew he was seconds too late, but his run managed to deflect her from her course, pushing her to one side so the club caught her shoulder. With a cry of pain that arrowed all the way to Zeke's heart, she went down.
With nothing left to lose, he charged the doorway, ramming his foot into the opening as Ross Fine tried desperately to close it. With a war cry, he grabbed the man and slammed him against the door so hard it bounced on its hinges. Zeke pulled his right fist back.
Someone locked on to his arm and held it in a grip of iron. Zeke fought the hold until he became aware that it was one of the police officers. "That's enough, let us do our job now," he said. Still, it took all his strength to pry Zeke's left hand loose from the man's shoulder.
Zeke spun around, bracing himself for the sight of Tara and his son on the ground, injured or worse. To his astonishment, he saw her stumble to her feet, assisted by the negotiator. She held the blanket-wrapped baby against her body as if she never meant to let him go.
The baby was crying but seemed unhurt, and Zeke offered a silent prayer of thanks as he raced to her side. She must have cushioned the baby's fall with her own body. "Tara, my love. I thought he'd hurt you."
"Only my shoulder," she insisted.
He didn't miss the pain dulling her gaze or the odd way her left arm hung. "Your shoulder's dislocated. Somebody get her an ambulance."
"It's already here," the negotiator said. "Although by rights, we should put both of you in the wagon. What kind of stunt was that?"
"The hero kind," Tara said with an incandescent look at Zeke. "If you hadn't pushed me aside…"
Her indrawn breath of pain wrenched at him. "You're the hero, not me, although your heroics almost got you killed."
"Once I saw Brendan, I didn't care what happened to me. I only wanted him to be safe. Oh, Zeke, he's our baby. I knew it the moment I set eyes on him."
He peeled back the blanket and looked into eyes as dark as his own. Any doubts that his son lived were swept aside as he recognized traces of his own features in the small face. It was screwed up with crying right now, but the sound was music to his ears. His throat began to close. "I'll take care of him while the paramedics do their stuff," he said huskily, not sure if she would let him.
To his surprise, she passed him the baby without demur. "Brendan, this is your daddy," she said softly, her eyes filling.
His tears weren't far behind as he took the squirming child, feeling all thumbs. Someone handed him a spare bottle of warmed formula. On instinct he offered it to the baby who began to drink hu
ngrily. At the sight, a door to some emotional wellspring cracked open deep inside him, and he knew he would never be able to close it again, or want to.
He kept one arm around the baby and put the other around Tara's undamaged shoulder, well aware that only willpower kept her on her feet. "I love you," he said again, finding that it got easier with practice.
"I love you, too," she said hoarsely, having trouble believing she had heard him. Zeke had always made love to her, but had never said he loved her. But there was no mistaking the way he looked at her now. As she swayed the negotiator motioned the paramedics forward with a stretcher. She looked at it with distaste, but pain overrode her reluctance and she let herself he helped onto it, moving stiffly, on her last reserves of energy. When she was settled, she gave Zeke and the child a look of fierce determination. "You're coming with me to the hospital."
He gave her a thousand-watt grin. "Just try and stop us."
* * *
Chapter 15
« ^
Lillian McNiven was the first visitor. She regarded her daughter with concern as she sat up in bed with Zeke on one side, protective of Tara's damaged shoulder, now reset and nestled in a sling. On her good side, she cradled Brendan as if she never meant to let him out of her sight again. He'd fought sleep for as long as he could but succumbed at last, tired out by all the excitement.
Lillian tiptoed to the bedside. "How's the patient? The doctor said you're recovering nicely."
Tara gave a tired smile. "I'm fine. Come and meet your grandson."
"I don't want to disturb him." But Lillian leaned over, her gaze softening as she looked at the sleeping infant.
Zeke rolled his eyes. "A brass band wouldn't disturb him right now."
As had most of the country, Lillian told them, she had watched the hostage drama unfold on national television, and had sat with her heart in her mouth as her daughter walked into the line of fire. Until Zeke called her from the hospital, Lillian hadn't known that the child was her own flesh and blood. She still couldn't believe that the baby Tara had thought she'd lost was alive and well. It was a miracle.