my daughter out of my life.” The flat blade of a knife pressed to the swell of her stomach, and Lanie fought down a clenching wave of terror. “We’ll see how he feels about having his kid cut out of his life, won’t we?”
Lanie forced her muscles into deliberate relaxation. “We can talk about this. My father is very wealthy.”
“I don’t give a damn about money,” he snarled. “Money’s no good to me now.”
“You think? My father…” She sagged, throwing her entire weight on him. His grip went slack, and Lanie drove her forearm against his throat, followed by blows to his solar plexus and instep, her movements made clumsy by her increased weight. The flashlight fell to the floor, and he doubled over, cursing. She made a break for the kitchen, using the reflected light as a guide.
More blood left her body, and she bit back a terrified sob. Her hands closed on her gun and phone. Mitchell cursed, crashing down the hall, and she chambered a round, sliding the safety off. The phone hit the floor when she dropped it to grip the gun in a two-handed combat grip. His silhouette appeared in the doorway, and she fired, the muzzleflash appearing before the report exploded in the room.
She fired again, but he was on her before she got the third shot off. Her head glancing off the cabinet, she hit the floor, and his knee slammed against her chest. Mitchell’s hands gripped her skull, and with a mad growl, he thrust her head into the floor. Lights and agony exploded behind her eyes, and her hands covered her stomach, protecting her child, as blackness descended.
* * *
Desperation did crazy things to a man, and John supposed this was as good an example as any. Clad in turquoise surgical scrubs he’d lifted from a supply closet, he lay across the seat of an ancient Ford pickup and twisted ignition wires together. A homicide detective, sworn to protect and serve, escaping from a hospital, wearing stolen clothes and hotwiring a truck.
The engine fired to life, and brief elation shot through him. This time around, things would be different. Mitchell would not win.
Worry and guilt swallowed the elation as he navigated Cutter’s rain-drenched streets. Patrol cars from the city and county departments as well as unmarked units filled the roads, and he dodged a couple of roadblocks. This needn’t have happened, if he’d refused to let Beth cling to her denial. He’d wanted her to be happy, and he’d been sure he could keep her safe.
He’d failed. Beth’s life was in danger once again, but the worst part was that his failure to protect Beth endangered Lanie.
Remembering the angry pain in her golden eyes twisted his gut. How could you not see how all of this would hurt her, once it came out? You wanted her, and that was all that mattered to you. Did you ever stop to think about what you were doing?
He was no better than Mitchell. Disgusted fury slammed through him, and he slapped a hand on the steering wheel, welcoming the stabbing pain the sharp movement brought. He’d find a way to make it better. Damp hair fell on his forehead, and he pushed it back. He’d be more supportive of her through the remainder of the pregnancy, and he’d be as active in the baby’s life as she would allow him to be.
If she survived.
John shook his head. Her not surviving wasn’t an option. The idea of a world without Lanie in it cut his breath short. A world without that sassy sense of humor, that beautiful laugh, and those gorgeous golden eyes? A life without Lanie’s touch on his skin?
God, he couldn’t let anything happen to her. He wouldn’t be able to stand the emptiness.
Blind son of a bitch. You really screwed up this time, didn’t you?
His hands trembled on the steering wheel, and he pushed down harder on the accelerator. He couldn’t fail again. He had to get to her before Mitchell.
* * *
When Lanie’s eyelids fluttered open, electric lights blazed around her. Pain thudded through her head with her pulse,
Lanie forced her muscles into deliberate relaxation. “We can talk about this. My father is very wealthy.”
“I don’t give a damn about money,” he snarled. “Money’s no good to me now.”
“You think? My father…” She sagged, throwing her entire weight on him. His grip went slack, and Lanie drove her forearm against his throat, followed by blows to his solar plexus and instep, her movements made clumsy by her increased weight. The flashlight fell to the floor, and he doubled over, cursing. She made a break for the kitchen, using the reflected light as a guide.
More blood left her body, and she bit back a terrified sob. Her hands closed on her gun and phone. Mitchell cursed, crashing down the hall, and she chambered a round, sliding the safety off. The phone hit the floor when she dropped it to grip the gun in a two-handed combat grip. His silhouette appeared in the doorway, and she fired, the muzzleflash appearing before the report exploded in the room.
She fired again, but he was on her before she got the third shot off. Her head glancing off the cabinet, she hit the floor, and his knee slammed against her chest. Mitchell’s hands gripped her skull, and with a mad growl, he thrust her head into the floor. Lights and agony exploded behind her eyes, and her hands covered her stomach, protecting her child, as blackness descended.
* * *
Desperation did crazy things to a man, and John supposed this was as good an example as any. Clad in turquoise surgical scrubs he’d lifted from a supply closet, he lay across the seat of an ancient Ford pickup and twisted ignition wires together. A homicide detective, sworn to protect and serve, escaping from a hospital, wearing stolen clothes and hotwiring a truck.
The engine fired to life, and brief elation shot through him. This time around, things would be different. Mitchell would not win.
Worry and guilt swallowed the elation as he navigated Cutter’s rain-drenched streets. Patrol cars from the city and county departments as well as unmarked units filled the roads, and he dodged a couple of roadblocks. This needn’t have happened, if he’d refused to let Beth cling to her denial. He’d wanted her to be happy, and he’d been sure he could keep her safe.
He’d failed. Beth’s life was in danger once again, but the worst part was that his failure to protect Beth endangered Lanie.
Remembering the angry pain in her golden eyes twisted his gut. How could you not see how all of this would hurt her, once it came out? You wanted her, and that was all that mattered to you. Did you ever stop to think about what you were doing?
He was no better than Mitchell. Disgusted fury slammed through him, and he slapped a hand on the steering wheel, welcoming the stabbing pain the sharp movement brought. He’d find a way to make it better. Damp hair fell on his forehead, and he pushed it back. He’d be more supportive of her through the remainder of the pregnancy, and he’d be as active in the baby’s life as she would allow him to be.
If she survived.
John shook his head. Her not surviving wasn’t an option. The idea of a world without Lanie in it cut his breath short. A world without that sassy sense of humor, that beautiful laugh, and those gorgeous golden eyes? A life without Lanie’s touch on his skin?
God, he couldn’t let anything happen to her. He wouldn’t be able to stand the emptiness.
Blind son of a bitch. You really screwed up this time, didn’t you?
His hands trembled on the steering wheel, and he pushed down harder on the accelerator. He couldn’t fail again. He had to get to her before Mitchell.
* * *
When Lanie’s eyelids fluttered open, electric lights blazed around her. Pain thudded through her head with her pulse,
Similar Books
