Take the Lead

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  Copyright © 2020 by Shelley Shepard Gray

  E-book published in 2020 by Blackstone Publishing

  Cover design by Alenka Vdovič Linaschke

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced

  or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission

  of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental

  and not intended by the author.

  Trade e-book ISBN 978-1-982658-57-1

  Library e-book ISBN 978-1-982658-56-4

  Fiction / Romance / General

  CIP data for this book is available from the Library of Congress

  Blackstone Publishing

  31 Mistletoe Rd.

  Ashland, OR 97520

  www.BlackstonePublishing.com

  For my editor, Ember.

  Thank you for loving Shannon, Traci, and Kimber as much as I do.

  Every author should be blessed to have so much support.

  “If you’ve got nothing to dance about,

  find a reason to sing.”

  Melody Carstairs

  “Let us read, and let us dance; these two

  amusements will never do any harm to the world.”

  Voltaire

  Letter to Readers

  In the middle of writing this book, it happened again. Instead of worrying about hitting my page count for the day, I found myself worrying about all the characters in my book—just like they were real people. When I was walking the dog, I’d wonder if Gwen was going to be okay. I’d stop in the middle of washing dishes and smile about Traci and Matt learning to waltz. Then there were Shannon and Dylan and Jennifer and Kimber! Each one of them had found a little place in my heart as well.

  By now, after watching me write for so many years, my husband seems to have a sixth sense about this switch. He’ll start asking me how my people are instead of how the book is going. That’s usually all I need to launch into some story about what’s happening to them. My sweet husband doesn’t even remind me anymore that everyone is made up.

  I hope you, too, connected with some of the characters in the series. The trilogy will end with Save the Last Dance, which is Kimber’s story. In it, Kimber steps away from modeling, meets a mechanic named Gunnar, and even gets talked into learning the cha-cha from Shannon—all during the month of December. LOL, I guess all the characters in Kimber’s book have become “real” to me too.

  Thank you for giving Take the Lead a try, it truly means a lot.

  With my best, Shelley

  CHAPTER 1

  Thursday, April 11

  “I need some help, here!” Officer Traci Lucky announced, one arm wrapped around Gwen, her barely coherent burden. Gwen Camp was a dangerously skinny woman—who was probably in her twenties but who already looked closer to forty—with blue eyes, long dishwater-blond hair, and pasty skin. And she was pregnant.

  Traci had found Gwen curled in a ball on the floor in the back of a house that she and her partner, Dylan, had just raided on suspicion of being a meth lab. That tip turned out to be wrong—there was no meth lab—but they’d found enough drug paraphernalia for Dylan to call in reinforcements.

  Unfortunately, as Traci had gotten on her phone to call for an ambulance, Gwen had surged to her feet and started freaking out. Even hopped up, it seemed that Gwen didn’t want to incur the expense of an ambulance. After a couple minutes of arguing, she and Traci had come to a compromise. Gwen agreed to go to the hospital if Traci would take her in her police cruiser.

  That was how Traci ended up here now, walking into Bridgeport Hospital’s emergency room with one of her hands wrapped around Gwen’s upper arm so she wouldn’t either collapse on her feet or change her mind and run back out into the street. The poor girl really did need some help.

  Unfortunately, Traci’s urgent call for assistance was being ignored.

  That hadn’t happened before.

  Bridgeport’s usually sleepy emergency room was currently a hotbed of action. Easily thirty people filled the waiting area. Over in the reception area, nurses, attendants, and support staff were running around like they’d been transported to the middle of downtown Cincinnati.

  Instead of the usual security guard, Emerson, one of Traci’s coworkers in the Bridgeport Police Department, was standing off to the side talking on his phone.

  What the devil was going on?

  Gwen pulled on her arm, bringing Traci right back to the job at hand. “I wanna go now.”

  “No way. You’re getting checked by the doctors.”

  Gwen frowned as she tugged on her arm again. “Can I at least sit down? I’m so tired.”

  It was nearly two in the morning. Though Traci felt sorry for the girl, she was feeling tired, too. It had been a really long shift. “Are you ready to listen and sit where I tell you, Miss Camp?”

  Gwen’s already disgruntled expression darkened. “Yeah, but I told you I don’t need to be here.”

  “And I told you that you need to be examined. Your baby needs to get checked out.” Yes, her voice was wicked sharp and her tone brooked no argument. But this girl was beginning to get on her last nerve.

  It took a second, but Traci’s words eventually settled in. “Oh,” Gwen said. A little bit after, Gwen got that vacant look on her face that Traci knew too well. This momma-to-be was either high as a kite or coming off something and was about to crash.

  Traci gritted her teeth. She loved being a cop. Loved it. Few things—the hours, the craziness, or even the paperwork—got to her anymore. However, out of everything she saw in her line of work—and in all the years in Cleveland, she’d seen a lot—pregnant mothers who also happened to be drug addicts was her kryptonite. She hated it. Hated it.

  Though she knew the reason why—her mother had taken in her fair share of alcohol and drugs while pregnant with Traci. Because of that, Traci had been born an addict and had spent most of her life trying to overcome that stigma.

  She was an adult now, of course, and she had a good job and a good life. But sometimes those old wounds hit hard. All she saw when she came in contact with a pregnant woman on drugs was a lifetime spent making up for nine months of a mother’s neglect.

  When she noticed Gwen curve a hand around her belly, Traci knew she couldn’t wait any longer. Still afraid to deposit Gwen in a chair—especially since there wasn’t an empty seat to be seen—Traci approached the crowded reception desk with Gwen in tow.

  “Excuse me.”

  The harried receptionist, who had been scanning something on her computer screen, took in Traci’s uniform and Gwen’s condition, and froze. “Yes?”

  Traci pushed her way through “We need some assistance please. This woman needs an obstetrician.”

  The woman looked over Gwen curiously. “Is she in labor?”

  “No,” said Gwen.

  “What’s the emergency, then?” Sharon asked.

  Well aware of the number of people listening, and that Gwen’s relatively calm state was nearing its end, she said, “Do we really need to discuss this here?”

  “I’m sorry, but—”

  Putting a bit more force into her voice, Traci continued. “Look, we need to see someone as soon as possible. “Where can I go? You got an empty room back there?” She gestured to the partitioned triage area.

  “Well, I’m not sure,” the receptionist said, just as if they were talking about the chances of rain. “As you can see, we are very busy now . . .”

  �
��She can’t just come in here and take a spot. We’ve been waiting for an hour,” a man standing to Traci’s right interrupted.

  In another life, Traci might have agreed with him. She knew she was absolutely using her uniform to get her way. But she knew that if she didn’t push this, Gwen would disappear back into the woodwork of the town and this baby would be born without a lick of care. And, well, if that happened? Traci didn’t know if she would be able to handle that.

  “She needs to be seen stat. I have to get back to work.”

  The man folded his arms over his chest. “Well, I do too.”

  There was no way she was going to get into an argument with folks in line. “Sharon, where can we go?”

  Looking as if she knew she was fighting a battle she couldn’t win, Sharon gestured to a nearby orderly. “Chris, take this woman to five,” she said to an orderly. “I think it just opened up.”

  “Thanks,” Traci said.

  “Hey, wait!” the man grumbled. “That’s not fair. I’ve been waiting—”

  Traci ignored him as she shuttled Gwen through the electronic gate and to a set of double doors. The doors swung open, revealing a beehive of well-organized activity.

  Gwen got quieter with each step, and almost seemed to grow younger as well. Her eyes widened as she took everything in. Within seconds, two nurses took charge of Gwen. After getting her weight, they escorted Gwen to a curtained room.

  Traci stood outside the curtain, half listening to the nurses’ questions and Gwen’s mumbled half-coherent replies. Everything she heard made her cringe and ache to leave. Why had she gotten saddled with this girl, anyway? It felt too personal and too hard.

  “Who are you here for?”

  Traci looked up and blinked. There, standing right in front of her, was a movie-star handsome man in light-blue scrubs and a white lab coat. A stethoscope hung around his neck.

  Getting to her feet, Traci pointed to the closed curtain. “I escorted that woman.”

  He pulled down the chart. “Gwen Camp?”

  “Yep. She’s obviously pregnant.”

  “How far along is she?”

  “I don’t know. I found her on the floor in a house we just raided. I’m guessing she’s on a number of drugs.”

  He was writing notes. “Any idea what she took?”

  “No. My guess is meth, but it could be opioids.”

  “Okay.”

  “Um, she looks malnourished too. She’s really skinny.” When he looked up again, she held out her hand. “Sorry. I should have done this at the beginning. I’m Traci Lucky.”

  “Good to meet you, Officer,” he replied as they shook hands. “Matt Rossi.”

  “Good to meet you too.” She lowered her voice. “Just to let you know, Gwen isn’t exactly here willingly. She’s a flight risk.”

  Worry instead of disdain filled the doctor’s eyes, which made Traci feel even worse. She should have more compassion for the girl. And, she was a girl. Definitely younger than she’d initially thought, probably not yet twenty-one.

  Her feelings of guilt ratcheted up. Honestly, where was her compassion? Obviously something awful had happened to put Gwen in this situation.

  “Officer, are you going to be here for a while?”

  She nodded. “I’m staying until you give me an idea of what I should do with her. I’m pretty certain if I walked out now she’d run.” Plus, she’d promised Gwen that she wouldn’t leave her.

  “Okay, then.” He turned and walked through the curtain, greeting Gwen as he did.

  Not wanting to hear any more, Traci took a few steps to the right, finally ending up leaning against the closed door of a supply closet. And as the orderlies, doctors, and nurses passed by, she reminded herself that Gwen’s life was not her mother’s. Gwen’s baby was not going to be Traci.

  Every child born in such a heartbreaking situation didn’t end up growing up in a succession of mediocre foster families before eventually ending up in a group home. Some, no doubt, did just fine.

  And then, because she was alone and no one could see, she closed her eyes and said a little prayer for that baby.

  Almost forty minutes later, the doctor came out.

  Traci strode forward. “How is she?”

  “Struggling.” He sighed. “You were right, she is badly malnourished and on something. Her blood pressure is elevated and she complained of some light cramping. After we got some blood, we did an ultrasound.”

  “Yes?”

  “I thought she might be around four months pregnant. Based on the size of the baby, I’d say she’s at least five months. Maybe closer to six.”

  “That far along?” The girl was such a little thing.

  “My main concern is the low amount of amniotic fluid and that elevated blood pressure. She needs to be admitted.”

  “All right.” Honestly, that was for the best. If Dr. Rossi had released her, Traci didn’t know where she’d place the girl.

  The doctor continued. “As I said, we took some blood and ran a couple of tests. Her baby’s heartbeat seems strong but I’d still like to know what’s in her system before we go any further.” He ran a hand through his hair, making the short dark strands stand up on end. “I’m going to recommend she get some more tests. We need to see some of those results before we decide anything else.”

  “So, it’s likely she’ll need to be here at least twenty-four hours.”

  He nodded. “I’m going to recommend she remain hospitalized at least until Saturday. But, like I said, we need some more answers until you can get her someplace better.”

  Until she found someplace better for Gwen.

  Though a part of Traci had known this was the likely outcome, the responsibility hit her hard. For the near future, she was in charge of Gwen Camp.

  It seemed no good deed ever did go unpunished.

  But instead of reacting, she kept up her professional demeanor. “Thank you for seeing her so quickly, Dr. Rossi.”

  “It’s what I’m here for.” His gaze was warm as he suddenly smiled. “Hey, good job on getting her here.”

  Maybe it was because he was so nice. Or he cared so much and was making her want to be better, too. But whatever the reason, she found herself smiling back. And, feeling a little bit better about the world.

  “I’ve got to go. I’ll say goodbye but be back tomorrow.”

  He looked surprised. “Really? Do you make follow up visits for everyone you bring in?”

  “No, but I’m committed now. Plus, I’ve got some personal reasons for getting so involved.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “I hope so,” she replied before she caught herself. After all, this wasn’t some meet-cute. She was doing her job and so was he. They were working.

  “Dr. Rossi, we need you,” a nurse called out.

  “I’ve got to go. See you, Officer Lucky.” He smiled again before walking down the hall.

  Traci stayed where she was and watched him disappear. But as she turned to walk back to Gwen, she realized that the future didn’t feel as bleak as it had just an hour ago.

  Huh.

  CHAPTER 2

  waltz: This is the most commonly thought

  of dance when someone mentions ballroom dancing. It is twenty-eight bars per minute,

  done in a 3–4 time, and can be fairly romantic.

  Monday

  “Officer Lucky’s down the hall, Dr. Rossi,” Marissa, the head nurse on duty announced as Matt arrived on the obstetrics floor.

  “Has she been there long?” Matt asked.

  “Over an hour.”

  “And our patient? Miss Camp?”

  Marissa scanned through her computer screen. “She’s been stable. Her baby is hanging in there, too.” She read out loud the latest results from the blood tests.

 
; Matt sighed in relief. The numbers were almost normal. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Anytime, doc,” she said before turning to a nurse who’d just approached the station.

  Though Matt usually would have been only thinking about his patient, as he walked down the hall, he could only seem to think about Officer Lucky. He’d barely met her, but she’d left a huge impression. She could be described as about five-six, a hundred fifteen pounds, with brown hair and brown eyes. But those characteristics did little to accurately describe the way Traci was. No, she was an athletic fireball with a good dose of vulnerability thrown in for good measure.

  And, it seemed, tenacity. Or, maybe it was loyalty. He wasn’t sure yet.

  Whatever her reasons, even three days later, Traci was still sticking to her promise. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. In his experience, most cops were overworked and underpaid. They didn’t have time to continually visit a woman in the hospital. Especially a woman who was never happy to see them.

  But Traci Lucky was proving that she wasn’t like anyone else.

  He wasn’t the only person who thought that, either. The woman would probably be shocked to hear it, but she had quite a following around the hospital.

  Matt wasn’t surprised. Traci had an aura about her that caused everyone in her path to do a double take. She was assertive, athletic, and attractive, with her long brown hair poorly contained in a ponytail. But beyond all of those attributes, there was a whole other part about her that reeked of vulnerability. It made a guy want to step in front of her and shield her from the world—at least until she pushed him aside with a tersely uttered, “I’ve got this.”

  He walked down to Gwen’s room, tapped on the door lightly, and then entered. Traci was sitting in a chair next to her. She looked as uncomfortable as he would feel sitting in a cell at the county jail.

  Looking grateful for the interruption, Traci jumped to her feet. “Dr. Rossi, hi. We were just talking about you.”

  “Yeah?” He winked at Gwen. “Let me guess. You were wondering what time I was going to be making my rounds this morning?”