by Lynde Lakes
“Dr. Feldman always has time for babies,” she said. “I’ll get him.”
When Feldman came out, Matt explained that the baby had been kidnapped twice and that this last time, her mother had been shot with the infant in her arms. “She hasn’t made a peep since we rescued her. She just watches everything with wide, dazed eyes. Could she be in shock?”
“Let’s take a look,” Feldman said, leading Matt into a curtained-off area.
Matt laid Sara Jane down on the examining table. He kept a hand on her shoulder. His throat was dry. “She’s been through so much and with her mother in surgery—”
“You a relative?”
Matt forced his answer past the lump in his throat. “I’m her father.” He blinked away a sudden rush of tears.
“Relax, if you can. If you’re tense, she’ll pick up on it and be frightened.”
Dr. Feldman took her vitals then flashed a small light into Sara Jane’s eyes. “I think someone drugged this baby.” He drew some blood. She didn’t even cry. “I’ll put a rush on this.”
The doctor came back within twenty minutes. “I was right. She’s been drugged,” he said. “They used a Mexican street drug called Paralizar.”
Matt cursed under his breath. How could someone do this to a defenseless baby, to his precious Sunshine? He wanted to smash Del Fuego’s face into unrecognizable pulp. He had no doubt that bastard was the one responsible. “Can you help her?”
“It should wear off by tomorrow. She’s lucky. One milligram more could have killed someone so small. I’d like to monitor her through the night.”
Matt rubbed his throbbing arm. “I want to stay with her.”
Dr. Feldman nodded. Matt held Sara Jane in his arms until she went to sleep. He looked at his watch. By now, Molly should be out of surgery. With reluctance, he left the baby in the nursery under the care of a nurse.
Matt found Molly asleep in the surgery recovery room looking pale against the blue sheet. A cardiac monitor beeped overhead, as it tracked the rhythm of her heart. It was strong, steady—reassuring.
The emergency room doctor came into the tiny curtained area and glared at him. “Who let you in here?” Without waiting for an answer she said, “You’ll have to wait in the waiting room.”
He flashed his badge.
“Very impressive, Agent Ryan,” she said. “Now wait outside.”
“I’m her husband,” he said, willing to use any means to stay.
The doctor sighed, and then said in a more gentle tone. “You can stay, but only for a few minutes.”
“Thanks.” He held Molly’s limp hand and said reassuring things just in case she could hear him. After about five minutes, the doctor returned and ousted him from the enclosure. “I need space to work,” she said.
“I’ll be right outside the curtain.” He couldn’t leave until he knew Molly would be all right.
He called on his cell phone and learned that the Air Force choppers had landed at Laughlin with his prisoners. He should be there to take charge of them; this was still his case. But Molly came first. Matt then called FBI headquarters to arrange for transfer of the prisoners to Dallas.
Ramon had already taken care of it and was in the military police cell block questioning Del Fuego’s men. Damn it, Matt thought. That was his job, and he wasn’t doing it. He took a deep breath. As much as he’d like to, he couldn’t control everything. The job was getting done, and he was where he belonged—with Molly.
When the feisty female doctor left the curtained area, he slipped back inside.
****
“Molly, honey, you’re going to be fine.”
Matt’s voice reached Molly as if from a great distance, drawing her from the darkness. She tried to squeeze the familiar callused hand holding hers. Oxygen hissed in her nostrils. She heard a jumble of beeps and unfamiliar voices. She slowly opened her eyes to blazing light, and then shut them again.
In a no-nonsense attitude, a woman said, “Step aside, Mr. Ryan.” Her tone softened. “Are you in pain, Molly?”
Molly forced her eyes open. She felt no pain, only exhaustion. And troubled…about what?
“Is she okay?” Matt asked, tension riding in his words.
“Please,” the woman with a stethoscope around her neck insisted. “Wait over there out of the way. We’ll talk when I’m through.” Curtain rings raked across a metal pole. The woman’s voice gentled again. “I’m Doctor Rosemoor, Molly. You’re in the surgery recovery room.”
Molly wanted to ask something but couldn’t bring it forward. The signals her brain was sending were incomplete, confusing. She closed her eyes and drifted away…Hollow voices came and went, asking questions, hands probing, poking.
“Molly, Molly…”
The voice was low, anxious. A face locked into focus, haggard, unshaven. “Matt…” She reached up to touch him, but a tangle of plastic tubes trapped her wrist. She let her hand fall back to the sheet.
Matt bent and gently lifted her fingers and kissed the tips. “Hi, little darlin’.” His voice broke. He swallowed. “Doc says you’re fine. Bullet’s out—no complications.”
Bullet? Oh, that’s right. I was shot. She’d been running across the pasture with Del Fuego’s men after her. She’d felt the force of the bullet, but kept going, protecting her baby…Oh, God. “Sara Jane…is she all right?”
Matt hesitated. “Don’t worry. She’s sleeping.”
“I want to see her. Now.”
His eyes darkened. He kissed Molly’s fingers again. “As soon as you’re out of recovery.” The distress in his voice troubled her.
“Mr. Ryan, you must wait outside,” the doctor insisted. Nurses joined the doctor, changing IV bottles, disconnecting wires. They spoke in hushed tones.
“What’s wrong?” Molly asked.
“Everything’s fine,” the doctor said. “Just relax.”
“My baby?” Molly couldn’t stem her rising panic.
“She’s fine. Calm down,” Dr. Rosemoor told her. A nurse buried the tip of a needle into Molly’s arm.
“I don’t want to sleep. I want to see my baby.”
A blurry fog crept over Molly, its murky fingers pulling her into darkness. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.
****
Matt’s arm throbbed, swelled. It had been giving him trouble for the past couple of hours, but he ignored it. He refused to leave Molly’s hospital room. He stayed by her bed holding her hand, listening to her breathing, willing her to wake up. Whatever pain medication the nurse had given her had knocked her out from late afternoon into night. Several times, she had called out for their baby—but not for him.
No wonder. He’d failed to stop Del Fuego’s men from whisking her away from the ranch, failed to stop one of them from shooting her, failed to keep someone from drugging their child. In the end, he’d saved them, but what torture had they been forced to endure? “I’m sorry, Molly, so sorry.”
Sweat poured from Matt’s brow and soaked his clothes. His throat felt dry, but when he struggled up to get a glass of water, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. Blackness claimed him.
He awoke forty-eight hours later and learned his gunshot wound had become infected. Antibiotics had saved him. He was in a bed next to his brother. Big strong men. Taken down by a few microbes.
“I want to see Molly and my baby,” Matt told the doctor. He tried to push his way through a snarl of tubes and gadgets and get out of bed.
Dr. Rosemoor forced him back down with a firm hand. “Relax. They’re both fine. FBI agents took them into protective custody and transferred them to a hospital in Dallas.”
Matt felt his world tilt. “No,” he groaned.
****
Luke was released first, and Matt the following day. Del Fuego’s helicopter had been impounded by the FBI, so Matt made other arrangements for transportation.
“I’m going to Dallas,” he told Luke.
“Why?”
“Can’t go home wi
thout seeing Molly and Sara Jane.”
“How come the Feds moved ’em?”
“Wanted to get them closer to the Dallas headquarters for their own convenience, and to get her away from me.” Matt stroked his jaw. “Can you get back to the ranch on your own?”
“Could. But I’m going with you, bro.”
Matt was glad for the company. They rented a car and took turns driving. Neither of them said much on the trip, but just having his brother with him felt damned good.
In Dallas, Matt left Luke to wait in the car and charged into the FBI office. He slammed his fist down on his chief’s desk. “I checked the Dallas hospitals. No sign of Molly. Is she still critical? What about my baby?”
“They’re both fine.”
“I want to see them!” Matt growled.
“Not a good idea,” his chief said in a monotone.
Chief Noel Kelly was ruddy-faced and an Irishman through and through. At social gatherings, he was boisterous and blustery, and on the job he was pigheaded and single-minded. When Noel was straight with him, Matt could overlook his shortcomings. But this time the man had stepped over the line. “What’s with all the underhanded moves?”
Noel steepled his fingers and just stared at him.
“Damn it. You owe me an answer,” Matt growled.
“You’ve lost focus,” Noel said finally. “Become too scattered. Your family, the ranch. Sleeping with a witness.” He paused. “She wasn’t safe with you.”
“She wasn’t safe with Clancy and Murphy. What makes you think those other three jokers can do better than me?”
“You harbored Del Fuego’s inside man on your ranch.”
“Harbored? Who?”
“Octavo Cruz.”
Matt couldn’t believe it. Octavo had been on the ranch for years. He’d had money problems last year when his wife developed cancer, but Matt had given his own personal guarantee on a loan for him, and Octavo had assured him that it solved his financial problems. If he were Del Fuego’s inside man, it would mean Octavo’s back was still against the wall and Del Fuego had been able to buy his loyalty.
Bile rose in Matt’s throat. Another betrayal—this time a trusted employee. “How do you know?”
“Ramon got his name from Santina.” Noel met Matt’s gaze. “We had to get Molly to a safe house right away. Santina said there were more of Del Fuego’s men on the loose with orders to shut her up. Permanent-like.”
Maybe Noel had done him a favor by keeping Molly away from the ranch. Matt’s stomach knotted. “Looks like I’ll have to clean house.”
“Already done. We picked up Octavo yesterday. He admitted everything.” Noel gave his glass ashtray a spin. “How are you feeling? I hear we almost lost you.” Matt heard a trace of concern in Noel’s voice.
“Okay. Just mad as hell.”
Noel bit off the end of a cigar then lit it. “I had no choice. You were out of commission, and our key witness was still in danger. We had to make her disappear until the trial. For her own good.”
Matt waved away the foul smoke. “Don’t pretend you give a damn about her.”
Noel frowned. “I care.”
“Where is she?”
“Classified. Even I don’t know where they’re holding her.”
“You’re lying. You always know where everyone is and what they’re doing. Even how many times a day they pee.”
“Don’t be bitter. You can see her after the trial.” Noel looked at his hands. “She doesn’t want to talk to you, you know. Any idea why?”
“Hell, yes. She thinks I let her down again. Betrayed her. And keeping her from me is reinforcing that belief.”
“Go home until the trial. Rest, heal.” He gave a half smile. “Play cowboy. And let the wheels of justice turn. When it’s over, you can straighten out your love life.”
That’s just what he intended to do—if it wasn’t too late. “I want to get a message to her.”
Noel reached in his desk drawer and withdrew a sheet of plain paper and an envelope.
Matt grabbed it and scrawled “I’ll be waiting. Love, Matt.” He sealed the envelope and returned it to Noel. “You’ll see that she gets this?”
“She’ll have it by nightfall.”
“I’ll count on it.” Matt rose and slammed out of the office without another word.
Luke waited in the rental car. “Bad news?” he asked as Matt slid behind the wheel.
“The chief won’t tell me where Molly is.”
“Shoot, I bet you can find her. You ain’t gonna take this little ol’ roadblock lying down, are you?”
“I don’t want to, but Noel brought up a good point. Del Fuego could still have henchmen running loose. If they tail me, I could lead them right to her. I can’t risk that.”
“Isn’t that the kind of thinkin’ that screwed things up before? You may be pushin’ your luck. Connie Lou said a woman can forgive a man once for runnin’ out on her. But never twice.”
Never twice. Maybe Connie Lou was right. He floored the gas pedal and left rubber on the pavement as he shot out of the parking lot. Matt sped toward Dallas Love Field Airport. Luke held on for dear life.
In the distance, the round top of the fifty-story Reunion Tower came into view. Matt had taken Molly to the revolving restaurant and kissed her on the observation deck. Her lips had been warm, velvety. Damn. He wanted to see her—to know she was all right. If it weren’t for the danger to her, he’d never let anyone keep them apart.
Molly might still be somewhere in Dallas, maybe less than a mile away. How would he get through this? Leaving her was like cutting out his heart. It was painful enough to let her go that first time, but now there was much more at stake—Molly and his little Sunshine.
“Maybe we should spend the night in town,” Luke said. “We’re both tired, still healing from our wounds―”
Matt wanted to stay, wanted to comb every inch of the city. “I gotta get back to the ranch and see for myself that Mom and Dad are okay.”
“Wouldn’t hurt none to wait until tomorrow, get a fresh start.”
“Forget it. I’ve already set things up.” He’d rented a plane to fly back to the ranch and hired a pilot to return it to Dallas.
“I know what’s goin’ on. You’re afraid if you hang around Dallas another day, you’ll go lookin’ for Molly. Ain’t that right?”
“Maybe.” He wouldn’t put her in jeopardy for his own selfish purposes.
“If I were you, I’d go for it.”
Matt glared at him. “You’re not me.”
The brothers boarded the Cessna in icy silence. The return-trip pilot settled himself in the cargo hold, and Matt and Luke took the pilot and copilot seats. After they were under way, Matt gave Luke a gentle poke in the ribs. “Sorry for being so short with you. But this is something I have to work out alone.”
“I’m here if you need me,” Luke said, and then he grabbed a small pillow to catch some shut-eye.
Matt tried to keep his attention on flying, but thoughts of Molly and his Sunshine ate at his concentration. They’d be all right. He had to believe that. All he had to do was stay away.
Forty-five minutes later, when he lowered the landing gear, he glanced out the window and drew a deep breath as the expanse of land spread before him. Home. Then, emptiness hit him like a physical blow. Molly wouldn’t be there.
Victoria and Gavin met them when they landed. They seemed unhurt and none the worse from their ordeal. “Are you okay?” Matt asked.
“Fit as a fiddle,” Victoria said.
Relief rushed through Matt. He hadn’t seen them since the attack on the ranch and had only talked to them once on the phone. “I’m sorry I had to go after the kidnappers before checking on you, but lives were on the line. Molly…my baby.”
“I know. I know. You said all that when you called. We were so worried—about all of you.” Victoria hugged Matt and Luke as if she never wanted to let go.
Gavin gave him a rough embrace, longer than
his usual brief hug. Luke’s eyes widened when he got the same. The brothers weren’t surprised to get all the mushy affection from their mom, but it floored them when it came from their dad. “I’m proud of you boys,” Gavin said. “You put up a great fight.”
Victoria beamed. “You didn’t let bullets stop you from saving our granddaughter. Imagine—my boys are heroes. Both of you.” She paused. “When are you going to bring Molly and the baby home where they belong?”
Home where they belong. Even his parents, who didn’t have a clue about the true depth of his feelings, knew Molly belonged here.
“The FBI has them under protective custody until the trial.”
“Why aren’t you with her?”
Matt explained the situation as if he understood and accepted it, which he did—but he didn’t have to like it.
Chapter Thirteen
Molly remembered Matt at her side holding her hand. Then, he disappeared. She couldn’t believe he’d released her to these agents without even discussing it with her. She wanted him to explain—wanted to give him the benefit of doubt. She waited until the other two agents left the room to approach Ed Noble, the friendliest of the three. “Can’t you find anything good on the boob tube?” she quipped. She eased down on the couch next to him, careful not to jostle her healing shoulder.
“Waiting for the news,” Ed said. “It’ll be on in fifteen minutes. Is there something you’d like to watch?”
“Could we just talk?”
He flipped off the TV and faced her. “Any special subject?” he asked in a tense voice.
“Matt was shot. Did his wound heal all right?”
Ed snickered. “Nothing could keep Ryan down for long. Oh, that reminds me. He sent you a note.” Ed pulled a folded envelope from his pocket and made a big production out of smoothing the folds.
Excitement surged through Molly. Unable to curb her impatience, she snatched it out of his hands. “Thanks.”
She ripped the envelope open and stared at the sheet of paper inside.
“I hate this separation,” he wrote. “The other Feds whisked you away while I was still hospitalized and unconscious. I’ll be waiting. Love, Matt.”