Close Range Christmas

by Nicole Helm

  How was she supposed to handle that? Go along with what they had to say? “I suppose they were.”

  She was gratified when he nodded. He crouched down next to her, seemingly at ease with the situation. But there was a gun in his hand, and he pointed it at her head.

  “I’m here to offer you an opportunity, Sarah. A chance. A test.” He frowned at her stomach. “This does put a wrench in the plans, though.”

  “Maybe you could come back later.”

  He laughed. Threw his head back and laughed and laughed. Sarah tightened her grip on the gun. He was too close now for her to maneuver the gun and get a shot off, but eventually someone would come to save her. She’d be able to shoot him if he turned around to fend off anyone who came in.

  As long as a contraction didn’t roll through her.

  “Did you... Did you know your parents?” Sarah asked tremulously.

  “Yes. I lived with our mother for a time. But she didn’t understand me. She didn’t try to understand me. She tried to mold me into so much less.”

  “C-could you tell me about our mother?” Sarah didn’t have to fake the shake in her voice. The emotion. It was both fear and longing. And a desire to reach past his words into something real inside of him.

  “She was stupid,” he spat. “And selfish. She thought she was better than what Ace could give her. I showed her.”

  Sarah winced as another contraction began to steal over her. “You... What does that mean?”

  “She thought she was sending me away to ‘fix’ me. An institution, Sarah. What mother sends their child to an institution? But Ace knew I was better than that. Ace knew. Sadly, even he outlived his use. He had to die for me to reach my full potential. They all did.”

  Sarah tried to blink away the tears, but they were falling too fast. “I don’t. My baby doesn’t have to die. I’ll help you with whatever you need, Anth.”

  “That’s exactly what she said. Our mother. Exactly the way she said it. You look just like her.” Anth raised the gun, his face marred with a horrible sneer.

  There was no humanity there. No hope of reaching something in his heart. If he’d ever had any compassion or sense of right or wrong, it had long since been twisted into this.

  “I killed her,” Anth said. “I had Ace killed. Killing you would be full circle, wouldn’t it?” He glanced at her stomach again. “But there is the baby to consider. I know you’re having a boy, Sarah. A boy who shares his blood with me. He could be mine.”

  “You need me alive to get him.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  Sarah knew she had seconds at best. She wouldn’t be able to get a shot off, but with the right leverage she could smack him in the face with the gun. She’d have to be quick—really quick before the contraction consumed her completely.

  “Did you hear that?” she whispered, looking toward the kitchen.

  He didn’t lower the gun, didn’t look toward the kitchen, but his eyebrows drew together. “No.”

  “Oh. Well then. Good.” Sarah tried a fake smile. The contraction was tightening, tightening.

  And slowly, oh so slowly, Anth inclined his head toward the kitchen ever so slightly. On a deep breath, Sarah used all her strength to lift the gun, blanket and all, and ram it into his face.

  There was a sickening crunch, a scream of pain, but her own pain was overpowering. She lost her grip on the gun and it clattered to the floor.

  * * *

  DEV HAD CRAWLED his way across the snow toward the house. It was pitch black, so Anth must have cut the power. He made it to the back door, knowing he didn’t have the strength to fight Anth—and didn’t have a gun to shoot him with. He was shaking—both from being cold and wet and likely from blood loss.

  But if he could get inside, there were guns. There was help. Surely the women inside could fight off one man. Had he really only been one man?

  A man who was deluded enough to think he could take them down single-handedly. He couldn’t. Couldn’t.

  Dev heard something, a scuffle or breath expelled. Something...odd. Off. He climbed for the stairs of the porch leading to the mudroom, leading to Sarah.

  But he felt something in the snow. A body. “God.” He reached out and felt what he could in the dark.

  There was a low guttural swear.

  “Brady?”

  “Knocked us out,” Brady rasped, then swore again. “Tied us together. Sarah’s in labor. You don’t have time to untie us. Go.”

  It felt all wrong to leave Brady tied up in the snow, but Sarah was in labor and there was no way to get them out of their bonds in the dark. He felt the body next to Brady and found what he’d hoped. Liza’s cell phone.

  “Is she going to be okay?” he asked Brady.

  “I don’t know, but I am, so that’s a good sign.”

  Dev placed the phone in Brady’s hands. “If you can get some kind of SOS message—”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Go!”

  Dev didn’t hesitate. He moved for the house. Every ounce of his body hurt. He was so cold he wasn’t sure he’d survive this. But he couldn’t die until he knew Sarah and the baby were safe.

  In labor. Labor. Too much of a distraction. Too easy for Anth to infiltrate. Dev managed to make it to the mudroom door. Based on what he could feel in the dark it had been kicked open, splintered.

  Dev felt his way through the mudroom, then the door to the kitchen, which had been given the same kicked-in treatment.

  He could hear the sound of voices. Sarah’s and... Anth’s. If she kept him talking, and Dev had enough strength, he could maybe sneak into the living room and tackle Dev. He probably wouldn’t win, but maybe he’d give everyone in the house a chance to help.

  There was a scream of pain—a man’s scream of pain. Followed by a woman’s keening moan. Dev stumbled forward into the living room. There was a beam of light barely illuminating the far corner of the living room.

  Anth was holding his face, screaming, and Sarah was writhing on the couch.

  Anth turned toward Dev. Blood was gushing out of his nose—which was pointed in the wrong direction. His hand shook as he aimed the gun at Dev. But as long as he was aiming it at Dev again, he wasn’t focusing on Sarah.

  “I survived, Anth,” Dev said. His vision was blurring and he wasn’t sure his legs could hold him up much longer. But if he could talk, maybe Anth wouldn’t shoot. “Isn’t that a sign? Ace would have said I was meant for more to survive getting shot. To get back here.”

  “Ace was a fool,” Anth said. He spit blood on the floor, then got to his feet. “You’re a fool.”

  “You should have listened to Ace. You needed a lot more than just you to take us down. You can shoot me, Anth, but you won’t make it out alive.”

  “You could have been better. You could have been—”

  A gunshot exploded from behind Dev. Dev couldn’t see who’d done it in the dark shadows, but Anth went down with a thud without another word.

  Dev rushed forward. “Sarah.”

  She was crying and she grabbed on to him. “You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay. The baby’s coming. Is he dead?”

  “I think so. We need to get you to the hospital.”

  “Ambulance coming. But it’s snowy and...” Sarah wiped her nose with her sleeve then frowned at him. “Dev, you’re bleeding.”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine. I have to go get Brady and Liza. I have to... Who shot Anth?”

  “I did.” It was Grandma Pauline’s voice. Frail and faraway-sounding. Dev jumped up and grabbed the flashlight. He pointed toward the voice. Grandma sat in the opposite corner of the room, small pistol in her hand, blood trickling down her head.

  “Cecilia,” she said, her voice weak.

  It took Dev a minute to think through the shock to realize she was trying to yell at Cecilia.
>
  Dev tried to get up, but his legs wouldn’t hold him. Sarah was groaning in pain. “Cecilia. All clear,” he called.

  Immediately thundering footsteps sounded. Cecilia appeared and paled. “God. Nina! Nina, get down here! The girls will be okay. Get down here.”

  “Check if he’s dead,” Dev instructed. “Then go out to the porch. Brady is tied up but he’s awake. I’m not sure about Liza. I...” His brain fumbled. It felt like the world was going gray.

  “Dev? Dev?”

  “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.” He had to be okay. For Sarah. “The baby is coming.”

  “Yes. Yes. An ambulance is coming but the roads are bad and there were accidents and—”

  “He’s dead,” Cecilia said flatly as Nina flew down the stairs, gun still at the ready.

  “Grandma’s hurt,” Dev said, pointing to Grandma in the corner. Nina immediately rushed to her.

  Cecilia stood and stalked away from Anth’s body. “Are you sure he was alone?”

  Dev nodded. “Yeah. Turns out one person can do a lot of damage with too much time alone to plan.”

  “I’ll go get Brady. And the others. Then I’m going to call that ambulance again.” She disappeared.

  “Dev, come help me get Grandma up,” Nina said. “We’ll put her in the chair.”

  Dev tried to get to his feet. Tried to do anything to move away from where he was sitting next to Sarah on the couch. “I...can’t.”

  “What? Why can’t you?” Sarah demanded, hysteria tingeing her words.

  Dev took her hand. He tried to tell her everything was going to be okay, but his throat was too tight. He pressed his forehead to her hand.

  “Devin, you tell me right now what’s going on.”

  He could hear the tears in her voice, hated that he’d put them there. “Anth managed to get a shot off. I’m okay. Just...a little hurt.”

  “Shot!” Sarah screeched.

  But voices began to echo through the kitchen. Not just Cecilia and Brady. That was when Dev noticed flashing lights. The ambulance and fire department. God, thank God.

  Weakness stole over him, but Sarah had a death grip on his hand. She was his anchor. Just like she’d always been. The thing that had kept him alive. Even when he’d been in that horrible darkness, it hadn’t twisted into whatever had afflicted Anth.

  Because he’d had her. And his brothers. His grandmother. Anth had been given a mother who had cared, who had tried. But it wasn’t enough.

  Dev would make sure it was enough for him. Always. So they all had to make it. Had to.

  “She’s in advanced labor,” Brady said. He was leading a uniformed EMT over to Sarah with Cecilia’s help.

  “He’s shot,” Sarah said. “Dev’s shot. Grandma’s hurt. Please. Please, look at them. I’m okay.” But the last word came out as if she was speaking through clenched teeth.

  “We’ll get to everyone,” the EMT said calmly. “You don’t worry about that.”

  The uniforms reminded Dev of what Anth had told him. “He’d befriended and paid off the deputy that was supposed to be our lookout. He’s still out there.”

  “No, he’s not,” Jamison said. “I called the department for backup when I couldn’t get a hold of him. He’d tried to speed away from here after the fire. He crashed. No word on his status, but it was a nasty wreck.”

  Dev blinked and looked around the room. An EMT was doing something to him he couldn’t quite feel, which was probably bad. But his whole family was here. Bleeding. Dirty with smoke. Wet and frozen with cold.

  But here. Alive. Breathing.

  So he focused on being alive and breathing too. Pain sizzled through him as the paramedic dealt with his gunshot wound. The medic looked up at Dev. “Going to need to transport you, ASAP.”

  “Her first. Please.”

  The EMT looking over him glanced at the EMT checking out Sarah. She shook her head. “Afraid not. This baby is coming now.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sarah wanted to scream. Dev was shot. Grandma Pauline was hurt. But they were focusing on her. No matter how she protested, there were people telling her to breathe, and then push.

  The pain was unbearable.

  “Don’t let him die,” she ground out, pushing with all her might.

  “I’m not going to die,” Dev said from somewhere behind her. They’d put him on a stretcher and were doing something to him back there, but she couldn’t see.

  She pushed and pushed and breathed when they told her to. She demanded Dev talk to her and she yelled at the EMTs to help Grandma Pauline, though apparently Brady was tending to her. But Brady had his own head wound, and so did Liza.

  “What about the girls?” Sarah demanded after another excruciatingly painful push. If she focused on her fear for everyone else, she didn’t think about the fact that she kept pushing and nothing was happening.

  “You’re doing great,” the female EMT encouraged her. “One or two more and then the head will be out.”

  The head. Her baby’s head. How was this happening? Cody had gotten the lights back on and the Christmas lights twinkled around her. Anth’s body had been taken away. Those who hadn’t been injured were taking turns taking showers and checking on the sleeping girls.

  And she was having her baby. In Grandma Pauline’s living room. After having survived a brush with a psychopath.

  “Come on, Sarah. Push.”

  Nina was holding her hand, squeezing it. Someone was holding her legs, but she’d lost track of who and how. Which was probably for the best. She just pushed. Pushed and pushed and pushed.

  “That’s it. That’s it. You’re almost there. Deep breath, one more big one.”

  Sarah didn’t know where she found the energy to push more. She would have sworn she was spent, and still she pushed. There was no choice. No way to stop this.

  “That’s it. That’s it.”

  Pushed and pushed and felt the horrible, painful pressure slowly ease as she collapsed back into the couch.

  “You did it. You did it. One more and he’s out.”

  Sarah did everything they said. She heard her baby cry. The squirming mass of limbs was placed on the sterilized fabric they’d draped over her. She wasn’t supposed to touch him yet, but she could feel his warmth, him.

  “He’s here,” Sarah murmured, looking at her baby. Her son.

  “And we need to load up and get to a hospital. We’re going to wrap him up and take care of him, all right?”

  Sarah nodded, because she couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. She was exhausted. Wrung out, and they’d taken her baby away. But he was here. Here and making noise. Alive. Safe.

  “See him, daddy?” Sarah heard the EMT ask Dev. She managed to twist her head to see Dev get the first glimpse at their son.

  Their son.

  In the midst of terror and tragedy, a miracle had arrived.

  * * *

  PAUL KNIGHT WYATT was perfect. His smattering of hair was dark, his eyes were blue—which everyone told him would change, though Dev held out hope he had Sarah’s eyes. Regardless, all eight pounds of him made up for everything that had been a part of his delivery.

  Dev had not been able to hold his son, or kiss the love of his life, or anything important for the first few days. They’d been relegated to separate hospital rooms, where they could only communicate through video chats on their phones.

  But they did those, regularly, even when the pain meds made him a little loopy and one of his brothers had to hold the phone for him.

  Sarah and Paul had gone home first. Paul, named after the woman who had saved Dev’s life too many times to count. She’d shot Anth, and ended the nightmare. Just like she’d once welcomed him into her home, promising to keep him safe. And loved.

  Grandma Pauline had beaten them all home, of course. Though she’d suf
fered a concussion, she’d been back at the ranch the next day. Liza had needed an extra day of observation because she’d had concussions before.

  Everyone else who had battled the fire had been checked out for smoke inhalation, but had invariably been able to go home that night. Though Duke had stayed with Sarah since Dev couldn’t.

  It was eating him up inside.

  When a nurse came in to check his vitals, he harassed her about going home. She patiently told him that was up to the doctors, but surgery following a gunshot wound was pretty serious.

  He’d growled at her retreating back, scowling deeper when Jamison entered the room. “I am not in the mood for visitors.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Jamison said cheerfully. “I’ve arranged a little bit of a surprise for New Year’s Eve, but it’s not authorized, so you’re going to have to be a good boy.”

  Dev only grunted.

  “Trust me. You’re going to want this surprise.”

  Brady came in, pushing a wheelchair in front of him. “Gage is distracting the nurses. Let’s go.”

  Dev frowned at them. “You’re not breaking me out.”

  “You’re not ready to be broken out,” Brady replied. Still, both his brothers helped him into the wheelchair, Brady manning the chair, Jamison pushing the IV cart. They put some blankets over his lap and draped a coat over his shoulders. “Now, don’t say a word. Got it?”

  Dev couldn’t say he did get it, but his head and body ached, so he did what he was told as his brothers wheeled him through the hallway, to an elevator, then all the way down to the main floor. And right out the front doors.

  “I thought you said you weren’t breaking me out.” It was cold, but sunny. Dev squinted against the bright sunlight after days of fluorescent lighting. Brady stood behind him, manning the wheelchair, but Jamison walked to the parking lot. To a truck.