by Gina Wilkins
The woman’s smile made Dallas want to go take a shower. She let herself into Polly’s room with only a quick tap to announce her arrival.
She found Polly lying alone in the semiprivate room, the other bed vacant. Polly was staring at the wall, her expression bleak. A small bouquet of mixed flowers rested on the nightstand.
“Who brought the flowers?” Dallas asked, though Polly’s expression had already given it away.
“Blivens,” Polly confirmed. “She told me the baby’s beautiful. She seemed very pleased about it.”
“I’m sure she is,” Dallas said grimly. A beautiful baby girl could bring big dollars from the right sources.
“She said she’ll be seeing me again real soon. Right after the baby and me are released tomorrow. Told me to make sure I dress the baby in the outfit she gave me.”
Dallas expressed her opinion of Blivens in a few choice words.
Polly managed a weak smile in response. “Yeah,” she agreed fervently. “But—”
“But what, Polly?”
“I’m scared.” The words were little more than a whisper.
Dallas couldn’t help wondering when Polly had last admitted such a vulnerability to anyone. “Are you afraid that you’ll be hurt, or are you worried about your baby?”
“Both,” Polly admitted. “But mostly I’m worried about the baby. She’s so little...so helpless.”
“But she’s not alone,” Dallas reminded her. “She’s got you to protect her. And me, and Sam, and our fellow officers. Our first priority is that baby’s safety, Polly.”
“Your first priority is the bust,” Polly muttered, looking away.
“No,” Dallas said firmly. “It’s not.”
When Polly didn’t immediately respond, Dallas spoke again. “You really think I could deliberately endanger that beautiful little girl, especially after I helped bring her into this world?”
Polly risked a glance back at her. “Well...”
“Just this once, let yourself trust someone,” Dallas said. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“It makes a nice change,” Polly retorted, shooting a look at the harness Dallas wore.
Dallas didn’t take offense. She figured Polly deserved the occasional shot.
In a very low voice, Polly gave Dallas all the details that Blivins had just given her. The “exchange” was to take place immediately after Polly and the baby left the hospital the next morning. The buyers wanted the baby as young as possible, Polly added bitterly.
Polly had been given the address of an abandoned warehouse in the city’s old industrial district. She was to go there straight from the hospital, where she’d be met by Myra and Blivens. Blivens would bring along a couple of suitcases of Polly’s things from her apartment. Myra would furnish the promised cash and a bus ticket to Michigan. Blivens would drive her to the bus station.
They wanted Polly to voluntarily disappear immediately after the exchange was completed.
“I asked if you could come with me,” she added, twisting the bedsheet with nervous fingers. “I said it would help convince you to deal with them if they could see how easy the whole thing was for me. Blivens said no. They don’t want any spectators, she said.”
“Any witnesses, she meant.”
“Yeah.”
Dallas patted Polly’s restless hand. “Don’t worry. She won’t see me immediately, but I’ll be there. So will Sam. And a few others to give us a hand.”
“I don’t like taking the baby into that situation,” Polly fretted.
“It’s the safest place for her,” Dallas reasoned. “She’ll have cops all around to watch out for her. But try to run with her, and Myra and her boyfriend will track you down. Who’ll protect your baby then?”
Polly sighed. “Even you can’t believe that taking the baby into that warehouse is the safest place for her.”
Dallas had to concede the point. “Okay, so it would be better if you were taking her home. But, under the circumstances, she’ll be better guarded there than anywhere else.”
This time it was Polly who conceded. “All right. But if anything happens to my baby...”
It wasn’t necessary for her to complete the threat. Dallas nodded to acknowledge that she’d gotten the message. “We’ll take care of her, Polly. By the way, have you thought of a name for her? It seems odd to keep calling her ‘the baby.’”
Polly’s eyes lighted up. “I read this book once—when I was a kid, you know? It was about these four sisters, and the oldest one wanted to be a writer.”
“Little Women?” Dallas guessed.
“Yeah, that was it. Did you read it, too?”
Dallas nodded gravely. “It’s a wonderful book. Do you want to name your baby Jo?”
Polly shook her head. “Amy,” she said. “That was my favorite sister. I always said if I ever had me a little girl, I’d name her Amy.”
Dallas couldn’t stifle her smile. Of course, Polly’s favorite character had been the vain, unabashedly materialistic sister. “I think Amy’s a beautiful name,” she said.
“Yeah. Me too.” Polly looked up expectantly when a uniformed nurse wheeled in a clear plastic crib. “Looks like it’s bottle time.”
The nurse grinned. “Sure is. And your daughter’s been letting us hear about it.”
“That’s my kid,” Polly said proudly, even as little Amy wound up for another piercing shriek.
Dallas didn’t linger much longer. She had a great deal to do, and little time in which to do it if Polly and Amy were to be safe.
* * *
DALLAS WAS UTTERLY delighted to be the first officer to step out of the deep shadows of the warehouse the next day. She held her badge in one hand, a weapon in the other. And she was smiling with the cold satisfaction of knowing her assignment was nearing a successful completion.
Four adults stood in one corner of the massive room—Polly, holding her baby and looking very nervous, Ms. Blivens, Myra, and Myra’s beefy boyfriend, Burt. Myra had just handed Polly a small vinyl case and was reaching for the baby. That was all Dallas had been waiting for.
“Take the baby and step back out of the way, Polly,” Dallas ordered. “The rest of you stay where you are. You’re under arrest.”
Myra, Burt and Blivens whirled in response to Dallas’s voice. Burt took an instinctive, threatening step toward her.
Sam came out from behind a pile of clutter behind them. “Freeze.” He, too, held a weapon, and it was trained unerringly on Burt’s chest.
Two uniformed officers appeared from outside. One of them escorted Polly and the baby safely out of the warehouse. The other moved to assist Dallas and Sam.
Burt cursed, threatening Sam with charges of false arrest and entrapment. Blivens was wringing her hands and loudly bewailing her innocence. “I ain’t done nothing wrong,” she insisted. “You can’t prove nothing.”
“Quiet,” Myra hissed to them both, looking harried.
Dallas knew Myra was well aware that Blivens would tell everything she knew at the first hint of a plea bargain. Myra was the only one of the three smart enough to know just how bad the situation really was.
Dallas decided it would be a pleasure to take care of this one, herself. She took a step closer to Myra. “You have the right to remain silent,” she began.
Myra gave her a withering look, taking in every detail of Dallas’s slender body. Dallas had been delighted to leave the harness off for this confrontation. “I know my rights.”
“And you know that I’m going to read them to you, anyway,” Dallas replied. This bust was going strictly by the book. No clever attorney would get these three off on technicalities.
Blivens gave an outraged squeal when the uniformed officer placed a hand on her shoulder to escort her out. “Get your hands off me!” she shrieked. “I ain’t done nothing wrong, I tell you. You can’t arrest me.”
Burt jerked when Sam turned toward him. “I’ll walk out on my own,” he snarled, then promptly stumbled over a broken
wooden crate behind him. He fell heavily, all two hundred and fifty pounds of him slamming into Dallas’s left leg. She staggered, trying to right herself.
Blivens screamed and made a dash for the exit. The uniformed officer moved to intercede. Sam bent warily toward Burt, plastic manacles in hand.
While the other two officers were occupied, Myra proved that she was every bit as sharp and quick as Dallas had suspected. Without the slightest hesitation, she snatched up a solid piece of the broken crate and brought it down on Dallas’s right arm before Dallas had even regained her balance from Burt’s accidental tackle. Dallas cried out at the sharp crack of the blow. The gun fell from her suddenly nerveless fingers.
Dazed from pain, she found herself held tightly against Myra’s wiry body almost before she realized it, her own gun pressed to her temple. Damn, Dallas thought, sickly suspecting that her arm was broken. Something like this always happens when I work with Sam.
“Don’t move,” Myra said when Sam edged instinctively toward Dallas. Myra pressed the gun more tightly against Dallas’s temple.
“Myra, you can’t get away with this. Why are you making this harder on yourself?” Dallas gasped, her stomach churning at the pain still radiating from her right forearm.
“Just shut up, okay? I have to think.”
Sam’s hands were spread in a nonthreatening stance, his gun held loosely in his right hand. “Let her go,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving Myra’s face. Watching him, Dallas saw the rigidity of his jaw, the slight twitch of a muscle in his cheek. Had it not been for those faint signs, she would have thought him perfectly calm. She knew he was anything but.
“Don’t be stupid, Myra,” Blivens snapped, from her position behind the uniformed officer who’d returned from escorting Polly out just in time to get caught up in the tense situation. “You’re only going to make it worse for all of us.”
“She’s right, Myra,” Burt said glumly, still sitting on the floor where he’d fallen, the other uniformed officer’s gun trained steadily on him. “Give it up.”
“Shut up!” Myra retorted. “Both of you. I’m not going to jail. I can’t go to jail.”
“You have no choice,” Sam said.
Dallas felt Myra tense and knew the woman was close to panic. Panic and handguns were a truly lousy combination, she thought glumly, waiting impatiently for the first opportunity to take action. If only her arm didn’t hurt so damned much.
Myra took a step backward, pulling Dallas with her. “We’re going to walk out of here,” she said. “Just the two of us. The rest of you stay right where you are and she won’t get hurt.”
There was dead silence in the warehouse as Myra took another step backward and then another. Dallas heard the woman’s breathing just behind her ear, sharp and uneven. The panic was growing. Dallas could only hope the fear would make Myra grow careless. Both she and Sam were poised to take advantage of the first opening.
Myra stepped on something small and round, momentarily lost her footing. She recovered quickly, but Dallas was already in motion. She spun and kicked out. Myra dodged the kick and leveled the weapon. Sam leapt forward.
A shot reverberated through the huge building, echoing through Blivens’s screams and the shouts of the officers. Sam hit Dallas with all his strength, sending her flying. She landed on her injured right arm. An explosion of pain shot through her, nearly driving her straight into unconsciousness. She curled into a ball, gagging and cradling her arm against her stomach.
She no longer had any doubt that the arm was broken.
Concentrating on staying conscious and fighting down nausea, she was hardly aware of the pandemonium around her. She heard excited voices, angry shouts. The wail of sirens grew steadily louder—someone had called for backup. She spared a moment to think of Polly and the baby. She knew they were safe. She hoped Polly wasn’t frightened.
Damn, but her arm hurt. Just wait until she had a chance to talk to Sam about his totally unnecessary flying tackle.
She opened her eyes after a few moments to find one of the uniforms kneeling beside her. “You okay?” he asked urgently, his hand on her shoulder. “Were you hit?”
“My arm is broken,” she managed, knowing she must look like death. “Is everything under control?”
“Yeah. We’ve cuffed all three of them and called for an ambulance.”
Dallas drew in a deep breath, trying to settle her stomach. It didn’t help that the warehouse smelled so bad. “I really don’t need an ambulance,” she said, momentarily closing her eyes against a fresh wave of pain. “It’s just a broken arm.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to ride in an ambulance. And besides, we need it for Sam.”
Dallas’s eyes flew open. “Sam?”
Where the hell was Sam? She’d assumed he was helping subdue Myra and the others. But—an ambulance? “What’s wrong with Sam?”
“He’s been hit. Took one in the shoulder.”
“Oh, my God.” Dallas was already struggling to her feet. She swayed as blood rushed from her head with her movement.
“Hey, careful! Take it easy. He’s going to be okay.”
She ignored the officer who was frantically steadying her. She could see Sam now, lying on the floor on his back, another uniformed officer leaning over him while two others escorted their sullen prisoners out of the warehouse. She made it to his side and knelt quickly beside him, fighting the dizziness her rapid movements cost her. “Sam? Sam!”
His face was colorless and there was blood on his shirt. A lot of blood. The officer beside him held something tightly against the wound.
Sam opened his eyes in response to Dallas’s voice. “Hey, Sanders,” he said, his voice pathetically weak. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Damn it, Perry, you just had to do it again, didn’t you? I had everything under control. I didn’t need you charging in to rescue me!” Her fear for him made her voice sharp. Her eyes burned; she blinked rapidly to clear them.
He managed a weak smile. “I know. The Lone Ranger on steroids.”
“Exactly. I can handle my job, Perry. I don’t need you taking care of me.”
“Yeah, I know, but I can’t seem to stop. I guess it’s a good thing we won’t be working together again, huh?”
“What does that mean?” she asked, brushing aside the officer who was trying to steady her as she swayed on her knees.
“I really hate this job,” he muttered, his eyes closing again. “Always have. Looks like it’s time to try something different.”
She swallowed and touched his too-pale cheek, uncertain whether he was talking about the promotion or medical school. Right now, she didn’t really care. “Yeah,” she said huskily. “You’d better do it while you’re still basically in one piece.”
“Basically.”
“The ambulance is here,” someone said from close behind Dallas. “C’mon, Sanders, let someone take a look at that arm for you. We’ve got to clear the way for the paramedics to get to Perry.”
Dallas nodded. “The paramedics are here, Sam,” she said, in case he hadn’t heard. “I’ll be close by, okay?”
“Yeah.” He opened his eyes just as a man and a woman in matching blue jumpsuits rushed to his side. “Hey, Sanders?”
“What is it, Sam?”
“I love you.”
Aware of the speculative looks that had suddenly turned her way from several different directions, Dallas kept her gaze firmly on Sam’s face. “I love you, too.”
He smiled faintly and closed his eyes. “We’re naming the first kid Bob,” he murmured. And lapsed into unconsciousness.
Dallas promptly burst into tears.
13
IT WAS LATE, AFTER ten at night. His arms loaded with heavy textbooks, Sam trudged down the still-hot sidewalk toward his apartment building. He’d just spent a long evening at the university library. His eyes burned, his head and shoulders ached, and he was hungry. He couldn’t wait to get home.
A young person in a batte
red baseball cap, a torn, sleeveless sweatshirt and grubby jeans loitered in the shadows just outside Sam’s building. Looked like a restless teenager itching to get into trouble, Sam thought, with a sigh of resignation.
“Psst. Hey, mister. You look kinda tired. Got something here that will perk you right up,” the shadowy figure hissed, reaching furtively into a pocket of the baggy jeans. “You interested in making a deal?”
Sam paused. “How much you asking?”
“It’s expensive stuff,” he was gravely assured.
“I’m kind of strapped for money right now,” he explained. “I’m in medical school, you know. Got a mountain of student loans to pay off eventually. Would you consider giving me credit?”
Dallas tipped her baseball hat upward with one thumb, allowing the streetlight to illuminate her unpainted face. With her hair in a scraggly ponytail and a smudge of dirt on one cheek, she looked exactly like the young troublemaker she’d been pretending to be for the past week for an undercover campus drug investigation.
“Credit, huh?” She eyed him speculatively. “Got any collateral?”
He glanced down at his left hand. “Only this gold ring.”
She pulled a thin chain from beneath her sweatshirt, displaying the ring that hung from it. “I’ve already got one just like that,” she told him.
“Well, I guess that only leaves my body.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, slowly circling him. “It’s not a bad body. I might consider it.”
He grinned and swatted her shoulder. “You should consider yourself lucky to have a shot at it.”
“Oh, I do,” she assured him. “Damned lucky.” And then she rose on tiptoe and kissed him. “Welcome home, Sam.”
Oblivious to their surroundings, Sam kissed her thoroughly before drawing reluctantly away. He always greeted her with hidden relief that she had made it home unscathed again. He would always worry about her, would always chafe against the dangers of her job; but he knew she was doing exactly what she wanted to do. Just as he was.
Her salary, his disability pay and a student loan that would one day have to be repaid were putting him through medical school. He was in his second year now, and it would be some time yet before they had any money to spare. Neither of them ever complained. They were both pursuing careers they loved. And they were together.