by Pamela Clare
“Easy, Hunter. I’m just getting my badge.” Julian slid his hand slowly inside his jacket, pulled out what looked like a black billfold, and flipped it open for Pastor John to see. “I’m Detective Julian Darcangelo with the Denver Police Department. I’ve come to take Hunter and his sister into custody.”
“Turn around and walk away, Darcangelo. Take Sophie with you, and guard her with your life. I’m leaving, and Megan and the baby are coming with me.”
Julian shook his head. “Over my dead body.”
Sophie’s mouth went dry.
MARC FIGURED HE had three choices, and all of them sucked.
He could take out the cop—one clean shot between the eyes—except that Darcangelo was clearly one of the good guys. Besides, the man had a wife and a baby on the way, and he was a good friend to Sophie. Darcangelo had risked his life for her and would do all he could to protect her once Marc was gone. No, killing him wasn’t an option.
Marc could try to overpower him with a few nonlethal moves, but Darcangelo was clearly a pro and probably had a few moves of his own. If they got into a full-blown fight in this confined space, someone else would probably end up getting hurt.
Or Marc could trust Darcangelo, turn himself over to the police, let them take Megan—and hope for the best.
No fucking way.
“Why can’t you let them go, Julian?” Sophie’s voice took on a pleading tone.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that, Sophie, or I might feel insulted. I’m not the judge or the jury. I’m just an officer of the law, and right now the law says that Marc Hunter is a convicted murderer, an escaped fugitive.”
“But you know he’s innocent!”
“He’s not innocent!” The cop gave a snort. “He might not have killed that agent, but he tampered with a crime scene, perjured himself, assaulted a correctional officer, kidnapped you—or was the whole hostage scenario an act?”
Sophie’s head snapped back as if Darcangelo had struck her. When she spoke, her voice was almost a whisper. “It wasn’t an act. I thought he was going to kill me. I didn’t recognize him until later that night.”
Megan looked back and forth between Sophie and Marc. “Y-you took Sophie hostage?”
But Marc didn’t have time to explain. He didn’t like the direction the cop’s thoughts had taken. “Sophie’s not a part of this.”
Darcangelo glared at him, undisguised rage in his eyes. “You made her a part of this, you son of a bitch!”
It was the truth, and Marc hated himself for it. “Take her, and go. She’s why you’re here. Get her out of here, and keep her safe.”
Darcangelo crossed his arms over his chest and seemed to study him. “You’re pretty tough, Hunter, but do you really think you can do it with a woman and a baby? Cross the border, I mean. The place is a no-man’s-land. You got drug runners, coyotes, sex traffickers, border patrol—and they’re all armed to the teeth. Do you think your sister is up for that? Look at her. She’s been brutalized enough—her parents, those COs, drug dealers. Is life on the run what you really want for her?”
Hell, no, it wasn’t what Marc wanted for Megan—or for Emily—but it wasn’t like they had any other choice. “She’ll be safe with me.”
The pastor cleared his throat. “Why don’t you ask Megan what she wants?”
Julian nodded. “Good idea. Megan?”
Megan stood, her gaze fixed on Emily. “I-I’m tired of being afraid. I want this to be over. I want you to be free, Marc. I want my baby to be safe.”
Marc saw the anguish on Megan’s face, heard the longing in her voice, and felt something twist in his chest. “Megan, honey, there’s a chance they’ll lock you up for the rest of your life. You might never hold Emily again.”
Megan broke into desperate sobs. “I-I…d-don’t know…what else…to do!”
“Turn yourself in to me, Hunter, and I will make it my life’s mission to put away the bastards who hurt her. I’ll make sure she gets the help she needs. I’ll even testify on her behalf. And I’ll make sure you’re both kept in protective isolation in the city jail under DPD jurisdiction and not in DOC.”
Marc stared at him, astonished. “Why? Why would you do that for us?”
The cop glanced over at Megan, and for a moment his gaze softened. “Your sister is the victim of a crime. She deserves justice. She deserves a life. Her baby deserves a mother. As for you, well, you might be a scum-sucking bastard, but you’re not a murderer. You deserve justice, too.
“But more than that, Sophie is family to me, and she cares about you. She cares about you enough to put her entire future on the line to help you. That means I have to care about you—even if what I’d rather do is kick your ass. That good enough for you?”
Marc looked into the other man’s eyes and weighed what he saw there. “Swear you’ll look after Megan, Emily, and Sophie and keep them safe.”
Darcangelo met his gaze straight on. “You have my word as a cop—and a man.”
The room seemed to hold its breath.
And suddenly the gun felt so heavy in Marc’s hands. He lowered it, opened his fingers, let Darcangelo pull it from his grasp.
From nearby he heard the pastor’s wife let out a sigh. “Thank you, Jesus!”
“You’re doing the right thing.” Darcangelo tucked the gun inside his jacket, drew out his Nextel phone, then called someone named Irving and passed on the names of Megan’s attackers. “I don’t want to believe it either, but I’m willing to bet my badge it’s true. Thanks, chief.”
“You didn’t tell him about us,” Marc said after Darcangelo hung up.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to give your sister some privacy. We’ll roll into the station, nice and quiet, and by the time the media hears about it, you’ll already be inside.” He drew out a pair of handcuffs. “But apart from that, we do this by the book, Hunter. You know what that means.”
At the sight of the cuffs, Marc’s lungs seemed to implode, blood rushing to his head, his heart thudding in his chest. Willing himself not to panic, he sucked in a breath and assumed the position, forcing his feet apart, clasping his hands on top of his head.
What the fuck have you done, Hunter? You’re going back to prison.
“You have the right to remain—”
“Skip the sonata, Darcangelo. I know my rights.”
And as the cop patted him down, confiscating the other Glock, his spare magazine, and the keys to the Jag, Marc found himself clinging to the hope he saw in Sophie’s eyes.
SOPHIE SAW THE panic on Hunt’s face and watched him subdue it, breath by slow, steady breath, his gaze locked with hers as if she were his lifeline. She took a step toward him, wanting to touch him, to comfort him.
He shook his head, his jaw tight.
“No contact, Sophie.” Julian held up the handcuffs. “I know you’ve got a talent for breaking out of these, Hunter, but I’m going to ask you not to do that.”
Sophie heard Hunt’s quick intake of breath, saw his body jerk when the metal touched his skin. But he didn’t resist as Julian locked his arms behind his back, then forced him to sit in a nearby chair.
And then it hit her.
This was good-bye.
Julian would take him to the station. Hunt would be booked, strip-searched, maybe even put through a body-cavity search. Then he’d be locked down. And the next time she’d be able to see him would be…when?
Maybe never.
“Pastor, I’ll need you to follow me down to Denver in your car with Sophie and Emily. I have room only for two in my unit and no child seat. Why don’t the two of you go get the baby’s things and give Megan a moment to hold her?”
Pastor John helped his wife to stand, and Connie placed the distraught baby gently in Megan’s arms. Then the two of them made their way upstairs.
A dazed look on her tear-stained face, Megan sat in the rocker, her gaze fixed on her daughter. And, as Sophie watched, Megan began to sing, her voice quavering wi
th tears. It was a song she’d obviously made up herself. “Baby Emily/You are so pretty/Mommy loves you with all her heart/She’s loved her girl right from the start.”
Tears blurred Sophie’s vision, spilled down her cheeks. She looked over at Hunt, saw him watching his sister, an expression of torment on his face.
God, this was unbearable, and it was happening so fast!
Julian stood next to the rocking chair and put his hand on Megan’s shoulder, his voice soothing. “I know it’s hard, Megan, but it’s for the best.”
Hunt shifted his gaze from his sister to Julian, and if looks could have killed, Julian would have been dead that instant.
HIS INSIDES CHURNING, Marc trudged through the snow around to the back of the house where Darcangelo had hidden his unit. Megan walked beside him, Darcangelo’s arm hooked through hers to keep her from slipping or falling down. He could tell from her irregular breathing that she was still crying, but he couldn’t see her face.
Despite her tears, she’d handled being separated from Emily much better than he would ever have imagined, giving the baby one last kiss, then handing her over to Darcangelo with a wobbly smile and thanking him, as if he’d done her a big favor.
“Make sure she stays warm,” she’d said.
Marc had wanted to slam his fist into Darcangelo’s face.
Except that the bastard was being gentle with Megan.
No other officer would have given her time to hold her baby. Or skipped the pat down out of respect for her past trauma. Or cuffed her hands in front instead of behind her back.
Watching him work, Marc had realized that under different circumstances he and Darcangelo might have been friends.
The sound of a woman’s voice drifted through the silence of the trees, bringing Marc’s head around.
Sophie.
The house blocked her from his view, but he knew she was carrying the baby out to the garage. The pastor had agreed to drive Sophie and Emily to the Denver police station, where Sophie would be questioned and Emily would be handed back over to the Mennonite family that had cared for her since birth. And they would all be back where they’d started.
Except that nothing was the same. Megan would be facing murder charges. Sophie’s life was in a shambles. And what lay ahead of him was anyone’s guess. Prison certainly, but for how long? Months? Years?
But something else had changed. He was no longer obsessed with Sophie in the way he’d been before his escape—he was madly and deeply in love with her. Saying good-bye to her was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. He’d realized he might never see her face-to-face again, that he might never have a chance to talk with her or touch her again. And for a moment, he’d thought his heart might actually break through his chest and land on the floor in bloody pieces.
“I love you, Hunt,” she’d said.
Then, ignoring Julian’s warning, she’d hurled herself against him, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him, tears streaming down her cheeks. The kiss had been hot and desperate—and short, thanks to the cop.
Darcangelo had drawn her away. “No contact, Sophie. Do that again, and I’ll put you in handcuffs, got it?”
“Stay safe, sprite,” Hunt had managed to say.
There were so many things he’d needed to tell her, so many things he ought to have said, and now he might never get the chance. God only knew when he’d see her again. He hadn’t even told her he loved her.
They reached the vehicle—an unmarked SUV. It stood, a hulking black shape, amid the shadows of trees.
Marc leaned up against it while Darcangelo helped Megan climb in. The snow had stopped falling, and the sky was beginning to clear. Orion was visible to the west, his belt of stars gleaming cold and white. Marc drew a deep breath, then another, trying to memorize the scent of snow-soaked pine, panic cresting inside him again.
He couldn’t go back there.
Breathe, Hunter. Breathe.
Beside him, Julian had just secured Megan’s seat belt and shut the door.
“Your turn, Hunter.”
Just as Marc turned, something caught his eye.
The gray gleam of gunmetal in starlight.
“Megan, get down!” He slammed into Darcangelo, knocked him to the ground.
“What the—!”
Bam! Bam!
The first shots rang out, striking the side of the vehicle where the two of them had stood only seconds ago. Marc rolled, brought his cuffed wrists beneath his ankles and to the front of his body, then leapt to his feet and took cover behind a tree.
“Son of a bitch!” The cop rolled onto his back and returned a rapid spread of fire.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
Then he scrambled to his feet and ducked behind the tree beside Marc. “That sound like a Glock forty-five to you?”
“Yep. One shooter. I’m guessing eleven shots left—service magazine.”
Two more shots rang out, hitting the vehicle with a metallic ping ping.
Inside, Megan screamed.
“Give me a fucking weapon!” Marc wanted blood.
“No can do, Hunter!” Darcangelo watched the trees. “Just stay out of sight!”
“And wait for that fucker to kill my sister? Fire at the flash!” Marc stepped out from behind the tree, saw a shifting shadow, then ducked back just as the shooter squeezed off two more rounds, a bullet whistling past his ear.
Darcangelo fired—and clearly didn’t hit a goddamned thing. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m trying to keep you from wasting ammo.” Marc kept his gaze focused on the trees. “I draw his fire, and you shoot toward the flash. Got it? And aim a bit to the right. He’s circling that direction, trying to flank us.”
Darcangelo got into position. “I hate backseat drivers!”
“Tough shit.” Marc took a breath, stepped out.
Bam! Bam!
Double taps.
This time one of the rounds creased his left bicep.
But Darcangelo had been ready and was already returning fire.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
A grunt, followed by a groan indicated that at least one of those rounds had hit its mark.
And then night became day.
Marc looked over to find Megan sitting behind the wheel of the SUV, its headlights blaring. Never mind that they weren’t pointing in the right direction. Their light was enough to show a man writhing in the snow, holding his thigh.
“Get down, Megan!” Marc called to his sister.
Quickly, Darcangelo moved in on the shooter. “Sergeant Gary King—you son of a bitch! And to think I’ve eaten lunch with you, you worthless piece of shit!”
Marc ran over to the driver’s side door and opened it, forgetting until he hugged Megan that he’d been hit. Shit! “Are you all right?”
She clung to him, her body shaking. “I-I tried to help. Y-you needed lights, and I—”
“You did great, honey. He’s down. It’s okay.”
She shook her head. “Wh-where is he? There’s one more. The Boss.”
Marc looked over his shoulder to where Darcangelo was rolling in the snow with King, who seemed to be trying to escape despite his wounded leg. “When you’re done fucking around, ask him where Harburg—”
Then Marc heard a single shot and the baby’s terrified wail.
Wrists still cuffed, he ran.
CHAPTER 30
LITTLE EMILY CLUTCHED in her arms, Sophie took a shaky step backward, her legs like water, her blood shards of ice. “Y-you killed him!”
Ken Harburg glanced down at his handiwork and shrugged. “Collateral damage.”
Pastor John lay still, facedown in the snow, a bullet in his back. He’d heard the shots and had run toward the house to fetch his shotgun, shepherding her and the baby to safety, when Harburg had stepped out from behind the garage and fired.
“Collateral damage?” Sophie took another step, her heart flailing against her ribs, her mind racing for a way out, a way t
o protect the baby, a way to protect herself.
Time.
What she needed was time. If Hunt or Julian were still alive, they would come. They would help her. They would do all they could to save her and the baby.
And if they’re dead, Alton? What then?
Oh, God!
The panic inside her shot to a higher pitch, made her stomach turn, fear for them coiling with fear for herself and little Emily.
Please please please let them be safe and alive!
“Yeah, collateral damage.” Harburg’s gaze flicked nervously toward the cabins. He was obviously wondering what had happened, too. “You know the term. It means I didn’t come here to kill him—I came here to kill you. He just got in the way.”
Sophie’s mouth went dry. She took another step backward, pulling words out of the air, trying to keep him talking. “Y-you’re supposed to be one of the good guys.”
“I am one of the good guys.” He glared at her as if she’d just said something idiotic.
Her fear flared to white-hot rage. “Good guys don’t steal drugs from the evidence room! They don’t rape! They don’t commit murder!”
“Those girls got what they asked for! They flaunted themselves at us, tried to manipulate us, wanted extra privileges. But damned if they didn’t learn their lesson. You play with fire, you get burned.”
Sophie shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. “You had no right—”
“We had every right!” His shout echoed through the eerie, snowy silence. “They owed us. This whole damn city owes us! For fifteen fucking years I’ve earned shit pay working to keep the streets safe. I’ve watched scum work their way through a court system that gives crooks more rights than the rest of us. If I want to steal some pussy or earn some extra cash by selling drugs to a bunch of loser addicts, I can. The good I’ve done outweighs all the rest!”
Please—Hunt, Julian, hurry!
“Do you really think you’re some kind of hero?” She laughed—a high-pitched, manic sound. “You just killed an elderly preacher who spent his life helping people. You killed Charlotte Martin and Kristina Brody. Did you kill John Addison, too?”