Chapter 12

12:00 Midnight

“Happy New Year!” Bailey whispered along with Con and Nan. Grady echoed the sentiment over the headset.

Bailey hugged Con and gave him a kiss. “To new beginnings.”

A wondering expression crossed his face. “Excuse us, Nan. Cover wee Constance’s eyes.” He turned Bailey, bent her over his arm and kissed her. His warm, silky tongue teased and tantalized. Caressed and plundered. He staked a possessive claim, consuming her. Branding her as his. Her breath evaporated and her head spun. Her bones melted. Bright spots danced before her eyes.

He eased back and flashed her a wicked grin. “Have to kiss my girl properly, and start the new year right.”

“Looked kind of improper to me.” Nan chuckled and bussed her newborn daughter’s cheek. The baby gurgled and waved her fists in the air like a miniature prizefighter. “The best kind.”

“Absolutely,” Bailey woozily agreed. She couldn’t have felt fizzier and warmer had she consumed too much celebratory champagne. High on the miracle of life. High on Con.

“Party’s over.” Con clapped his hands. “We need to get these ladies hidden and wrap up this incident so we can all go home.”

Bailey crashed to earth. They had a lot more work to do before the miracle of life could triumph over evil and death.

Con propped open the door to the employee lounge. “I’ll carry Nan to the sofa.”

Nan offered Constance to Bailey. “Want to hold your namesake?”

Bailey accepted the precious bundle. The baby was much lighter than she’d expected. Fragile and helpless. Dependent on them to protect her. “She’s so small.”

Nan laughed. “Yeah, now! She didn’t feel small a while ago!”

Constance stared up at Bailey with wide, dark eyes spiked with long lashes, and her alert expression asked, Who are you?

Bailey caught her breath in awe. “She’s beautiful.”

Con winked at Nan. “In a few years, she’ll have the boys eating out of her hand.” He carried Nan into the lounge.

Bailey followed with slow, careful steps, and then handed Constance to Nan. Nan hugged the infant close. “Her daddy might have a thing or two to say about that.”

Bailey straightened. Her gaze locked with Con’s, and her heart flipped over.

Emotions shimmered between them. Hope. Love. A thousand unspoken promises. His gorgeous brown eyes glowed with visions of the future. “The first time I saw you,” he whispered, “I saw my unborn children in your eyes.”

Her heart ached with longing. Con’s babies. Would she have the chance to rock them in her arms? Nurture them as they grew. Shower them with the love she and Con shared.

He held her gaze a moment longer. Between one breath and the next, the shimmering connection dissolved. Regret shadowed his handsome face before he turned away. “I’ll scout around and figure out how to secure this place.”

Bailey tucked away the beautiful memory. One of the most important lessons she’d learned tonight was to savor every moment. You never knew when—or if—you’d get another chance. The time had come for her and Con to separate. Not knowing if they’d see one another again.

Just as she’d tucked away the pleasure, she set aside the pain. Both would wait for later. She needed a clear head and uncluttered focus. “Are you leaving me with Nan and Constance?”

“No. I’ve modified the plan. Since Nan escaped, the suspects will be furious, their reactions unpredictable. I’ll station you with Syrone. He has a weapon, and you’ll be my eyes and ears on the first floor as the incident comes to a head.”

Surprise, mingled with validation, washed over Bailey. Instead of stuffing her into a hidey-hole as if she were a timid little rabbit, he was keeping her in action. He might not want her on the front line, but he did trust her to back him up. She nodded, smiled at him. She would not let him down.

Con used the red walkie-talkie to update Syrone. “Syrone says you can’t beat that woman-power.” Grinning, Con hurried out front.

Bailey plumped pillows behind Nan’s back and tucked hand-warmer heating pads around mother and baby. She covered them with a purple knitted afghan she’d found draped over the sofa and the Polarshield blanket. “Warm and cozy. Anything else I can do?”

“I’m super thirsty. And starving.” Her face radiant, Nan grinned. “Having a baby is hard work!”

“Especially without anesthesia. Yikes!”

“I’ve already forgotten the pain.”

“If you say so.” Brows arched in disbelief, Bailey raided a small refrigerator. “You’re in luck. Bottled water, and a fast-food salad one of the stylists must have left behind.”

Once Nan had sustenance, Bailey scrounged hand towels and hair clips to function as makeshift diapers. Who knew how long the siege would drag on, and Constance needed to be kept warm and dry. Thank heaven they didn’t have to worry about feeding her.

Bailey also gave Nan a squirt bottle of bleach, a straight razor and big, sharp scissors. “I hope you won’t need weapons, but just in case…” She added scissors and a razor to her own backpack, and tallied the recent acquisitions in her notebook.

Nan’s expression grew lethal. “Anybody who tries to lay a finger on my daughter will lose it.”

“After your attack on the robber with the office chair, I have no doubts.” She and Nan exchanged silent communication, friend to friend. “Thank you.”

Nan’s dark eyes conveyed her empathy over Bailey’s close escape from a woman’s ultimate horror. “Anytime, girlfriend.” She shuddered. “For a while, I was beginning to wonder if I would escape from that bank alive. To make an awful situation worse, the robbers are fighting amongst themselves.”

“About stuff going wrong. Yes, you mentioned that before.”

“Well, they’re also arguing because one of the guys accused Tony of working in cahoots with you to get rid of them.”

Bailey’s jaw dropped. “Why on earth would they think that?”

“Letty’s egging them on. She’s the one who brought it up.” Nan’s grin bounced back. “She said, ‘Interesting how every time he sends someone out, they don’t come back. How nice for Tony. Less ways to divide the money.’ Tony was gnashing his teeth.”

“Hmm.” Bailey tapped her chin with a forefinger. “Wonder if there’s a way to use that against him?”

“Oh, and maybe this will help, too. Tony’s men have orders to bring you in alive, if possible. He’s boiling mad over the accusations. He wants to prove that he’s not in league with you.” Her eyes widened. “And exact his revenge in person.”

More of Tony’s brutal brand of satisfaction? Shivers crawled up Bailey’s spine. “I’m glad you told me. I’ll fill Con in. If there’s a way to turn it around on the robbers, he’ll know.”

“Be careful, girlfriend. Tony is dangerous, and you’ve been messing with his head.” Nan’s brows creased in worry. “They’re all dangerous. The one who attacked you…he won’t care if Tony wants you alive. In fact, most of them probably won’t. You’ve kept them from taking the money and splitting.”

“Don’t worry. Just take care of yourself and Constance.”

Con returned. “Time for ‘Auld Lang Syne.’” He and Bailey said reluctant farewells to Nan and Constance, and headed out.

Outside the beauty shop, Con jumped up and grabbed the security gate. With the computerized system out of commission, only brute force could budge it. Hanging from the edge, he dragged the gate partially down.

Bailey added her weight. Gears grinding, the cage lowered slowly to the floor. He smashed the control panel and upper tracks with the baseball bat, and then wedged the bat in the lower track. “Should do the trick. Anyone on the hunt will assume the cage descended on its own like some of the others. Even if they suspect someone is inside, they’d have to expend a buttload of time and energy to wrestle it back up.”

“Which will warn Nan and give her the opportunity to fight.”

“That’s the plan.” He grabbed her hand and they strode down the mall.

She hid inside an electronics store while he headed downstairs to find the pistol and restrain the man who had assaulted her. They planned to contact Tony afterward and use Con’s latest brainstorm to stall him about the chopper.

Shivering in the dark, she waited between shoulder-high shelves lined with computers. The hair rose on the back of her neck with the creepy feeling that someone was watching her. She whirled. The blank-eyed monitors stared menacingly. Put a lid on that wild and crazy imagination, girlfriend. Her imagination had been a comfort during her lonely adolescence, and come to Con’s aid a number of times tonight. But right now, it could take a nap.

For distraction, she fantasized about what would happen after the ordeal was over, and she and Con went back to his apartment. She imagined a lovely, endless night of tender lovemaking. Thought about how incredible it would feel to wake up in his arms.

Con possessed innate athletic confidence and grace, which made him superb at anything physical. He was also tuned in to constant awareness of her moods and feelings. The combination would surely make him a spectacular lover. Goose bumps of anticipation tingled over her skin. She sighed in longing. Both her body and her heart would be safe in his keeping.

“Heads up, cupcake!” The furious growl had her spinning around again.

A long, heart-shaking moment of ice-cold horror crawled by before she realized the voice had spoken over her headset. She flipped the switch to transmit. “T-Tony?”

“Who were you expecting, jolly old Saint Nick? Where’s my friggin’ chopper?”

“On the way,” she lied. Too bad Con hadn’t shared his stalling idea with her before he left. He’d thought they had plenty of time. “The storm caused a slight delay, but it will be there. They’re…deicing it now.”

“It better be. Where’s my hostage?”

She feigned innocence. “What hostage?”

“I’m getting real tired of this game, cupcake. The missing hostage. The pregnant one. Where is she?”

“Sorry, I don’t know anything about a renegade hostage. But, hey, look at it as one less problem to deal with.”

“Yeah, right. And I want my missing crew!”

“Did you misplace some men, too? Careless of you.” She forced her words to ooze nonchalance, though she felt anything but. “Another silver lining. Fewer ways to split the money.”

“You bitch,” he growled savagely. “When I get my hands on you, and whoever you’re working with—”

“Let’s not go there, because it won’t happen.”

“Unless my chopper and missing crew show up at the multiplex, and soon…” Tony sounded ready to chew the furniture. “I am going to start shooting.”

She covered her gasp by clearing her throat. “You don’t want to do that. You’ll lose the ground you’ve gained. Listen, how about I tell the police you willingly released the hostage? Gain you some goodwill.” Of course, she’d do no such thing. But the lie might chill him out some. “Nobody will give you anything, including a chopper, if you kill—”

“I don’t have to shoot to kill. Taking out Grandma’s kneecap would cripple her, though. And it might finally shut her up.”

She closed her eyes, fighting nausea. He was just a threatening voice on the headset. Con had everything under control. SWAT was outside, ready to storm in on a moment’s notice. “If you hurt anyone, the police will—”

Her words broke off mid-sentence as wide, masculine hands settled on her shoulders. The low, male voice rumbled, “Who are you talking to?”

Her eyelids flew open. She knew that voice. Recognized the familiar scent.

Onions.

Her stomach flip-flopped in terror. She didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to see him, and make the nightmare a reality.

Because if he was here, that meant Con was…Oh, my God!

Con! Her shattered heart cried out in agony.

Her thoughts whirling, body numb, she slowly turned.

Scratches marred Glacier Eyes’ angular face, and a diagonal cut gashed his right cheek. The greenish black bruises mottling both pale, emotionless eyes made them look even paler. Scarier. The big, black pistol rode in a scarred leather holster across his chest. He smirked. “I’m gonna rip your wings off, Fairy.”

Her brain’s frantic shouts finally kicked in and her stunned body moved. She took a step back. Then another. She pivoted to run.

“Don’t leave.” The robber grabbed her by the hair. Searing pain made her eyes water. The sudden jolt tore off her headset, and it dangled from her belt. “The party’s just getting started.”

Tony will think I hung up on him. The disembodied thought didn’t seem to belong to her. Strange how the mind reacted to fear by enhancing insignificant details.

“Where’s your friend?”

For a moment, she thought he meant Con. No. He knew where Con was. Anguish stabbed her heart, the only organ in her body with feeling. He meant Nan.

“She had to leave.” Even her lips were numb. Good. Then it wouldn’t hurt as much when he shot her. “She hates parties.”

“So, we’re all alone.” His harsh mouth twisted, and she read his intent in those bone-chilling eyes.

He was going to kill her. But he was going to hurt and degrade her first. No way could she stop him. She had scissors and a razor in her pack, but he was twice her size. Even if she could reach the weapons, he outweighed her by at least eighty pounds. Even if she knew how to fight, hand-to-hand combat was futile.

Best case scenario: she’d delay the inevitable.

She firmed her chin. But she could, and would fight to the death rather than submit to rape. Heat surged into her frozen limbs. As he dragged her toward him, she reached out, snagged a dangling cord and tugged a monitor off the shelf.

The monitor crashed to the floor and imploded, a seventeen-inch bomb spewing plastic and glass shards.

“Dammit!” Her attacker leapt aside to avoid getting his foot broken, and released her hair.

She ran down the aisle toward the front of the store, yanking cords as she went. Fear and her momentum empowered her. Reach, grab, pull! Monitors, keyboards, printers fell and shattered behind her. Pandemonium strewed in her wake. A tangle of glass, plastic and wires for him to hurdle.

He swore and scrabbled behind her. His hands snatched at her clothing. She swerved and sprinted toward the end of the aisle. Reaching her goal, she whirled and shoved over a big screen TV. The deafening explosion probably jolted the dead in the mortuary down the street. Her notebook tally was gonna go into triple columns.

Disoriented by darkness, terror and the fight-or-flight reflex ricocheting through her, she couldn’t find the exit. Panting, she hurtled around a corner and crouched behind an entertainment armoire. She tried to slow her rasping breaths and pounding heart enough to hear her pursuer. Where was he?

Footsteps, crunching glass sounded twenty feet behind her. Con was right. Sound was a dead giveaway. Con. Crushing pain swamped her, and she fought it. She couldn’t, wouldn’t speculate about Con’s fate now. She had to believe he was still alive. Had to get to him. If he was wounded, she was his only hope.

“I like party games, Fairy.” The robber’s words vibrated with amusement and sick excitement.

Great. A whack job. You didn’t have to be psychotic to rob banks, but it probably helped during the killing part. Cold sweat dampened Bailey’s skin as she weighed her options. Hide. Run. Attack. None seemed particularly feasible. Or likely to succeed.

“Come out, come out,” he cajoled in an eerie singsong, sounding closer.

She crawled along the floor, feeling to make sure she wouldn’t tread on debris and give away her position.

“Wherever you are…” His boots crunched on the broken glass.

Definitely closer!

She glanced up. There! Thirty feet ahead, the gloom lessened. The mall exit! Still crawling, she crept forward.

The robber’s footsteps followed. She heard his ragged breathing. Imagined she smelled onions. Locked in the deadly game of cat and mouse, fear threatened to strangle her. Render her helpless. She’d used humane traps to deport rodents from the bookstore, but after crawling a scary mile in their little pink feet, sympathy for the critters churned inside her.

“I’ll find you, Fairy.” Closer still. “And make you pay.”

Her fingertips brushed a metal strip, then carpet. Yes! The front of the store was carpeted. Hunkered behind another big-screen TV—intact, for now—she eased off the pack. As carefully as if she were disarming a nuclear bomb, she reached inside and lifted out the retractable clothesline from the camping store. One small, revealing noise could get her killed.

“Now I’m bored,” the robber complained.

He was about ten feet behind her, but he’d veered to the right. With any luck, she might have enough time. Though her brain screamed, hurry, she crawled slowly around the TV. Looping the clothesline, she tied a secure knot.

“I hate being bored.” He shoved something and it crashed to the floor.

She flinched. Wonderful. The whacko was now a really ticked off whacko.

Trailing the clothesline behind her, she crawled parallel to the exit until she reached the opposite side of the store.

The robber swore again. “Did you somehow sneak past me?” His rapid boot steps crunched toward her.

She quickly pulled the clothesline tight and looped the other end around a heavy metal filing cabinet. Shin high, the tightly strung plastic rope made a perfect tripwire.

Bailey re-shouldered her pack, shoved to her feet and tore into the mall.

The robber shouted. He’d seen her! His running footsteps followed.

She’d sprinted five yards along the railing edge of the balcony when he yelled, cursed and a thud vibrated the floor. She risked a quick look backward. Her pursuer lay spread-eagled on the faux marble like a sacrificial victim staked out on an anthill.

Ha. Never underestimate a woman who reads, indeed! Especially a guy who’d stood in the brawn line twice, and skipped the brains altogether.

She turned and ran toward the escalators. She had to get downstairs, to Con! Con. She stumbled. If the robber had gotten past him, Con was either wounded or…she couldn’t bear to finish. Her duty at the moment was survival. Con would want that.

He’d spent the entire night ensuring her survival.

Her exhausted limbs dragged like lead weights. The day had been long, the night even longer, and she was fighting the strain. She forced herself to keep running. Syrone. She’d head for Syrone. He had a machine gun, and knew how to use it. She could access her red walkie-talkie to warn him, and he’d ambush the guy. Then she’d find Con and help him.

Running footsteps pounded behind her, and she shot another look over her shoulder. Glacier Eyes was up and closing the distance. Fast. The fierce scowl creasing his broad forehead told her he was seething.

Her heart thundered. Dread streaked through her veins, and she poured on the speed. If he caught her, there would be no more chances.

The escalator came into sight. Almost there. Keep going.

Shockwaves exploded inside her as the robber grabbed the back of her sweatshirt and jerked her to a stop. No! Oh, no! So close!

He spun her around to face him. Red-faced, he growled, “Think you’re clever?” Iron fingers clamped her shoulders, and he shook her so hard her spine nearly snapped. “I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” He raised his fist and backhanded her across the face, knocking her to the floor several yards away.

Dazed, gasping, she sprawled on the cold marble. Her head spun, her face throbbed and black spots swam in her vision. She licked her stinging lips and tasted blood. Down and fading fast. As helpless as baby Constance. His face contorted with hate, the robber lunged at her. Her life expectancy was about two minutes.

They would probably seem longer.

A savage war cry rang in her ears, and Con hurtled out of the stairwell. His narrowed gaze touched her briefly, and the rage in it sent her reeling.

“I’ll kill you for that, you bastard!” Running full out, Con tackled the robber.

Joy thrummed through her. Con was alive! And looking plenty healthy.

He clocked Glacier Eyes with a powerful punch to the jaw. The robber grunted and staggered. Then he rebounded and slugged Con.

She tried to scramble to her feet as the men battled, but couldn’t coordinate her disjointed arms and legs. The blow had stunned her more than she’d realized.

Glacier Eyes’ fist rammed into Con’s stomach. Con bent double and the robber whipped his gun from the holster.

“Con, gun!” she yelled.

Con’s hands shot out and clamped onto the robber’s wrist, and the pistol waved wildly between them. The men struggled for possession.

The robber aimed a vicious kick at Con’s knee. Con feinted left, deflecting the blow. The robber broke free of Con’s hold, whirled, and pointed the gun at her head. “Shut up!”

She stared into the black hole at the end of the cylinder. Stared at her own death. So, this is how her life would end.

Then everything segued into slow motion. Con wheeled into a crouch in front of her, flinging his body between her and the gun.

Three loud pops broke the silence.

Con jerked backward, then lurched sideways.

Her heart leapt into her throat. He’d been shot!

Events rocketed into fast-forward. Panic careened through her. She surged to her feet, her horrified gaze searching for blood on Con’s clothing. She didn’t see any.

The body armor! Con was okay. The vest had stopped the bullets.

As relief ebbed away her panic, Con’s arms shot out, and he dug his fingers into the robber’s shirt. Locked in the horrible dance, the men swung on the momentum and slammed into the balcony railing. For an awful moment they hung suspended in midair.

Then they pitched over the balcony and disappeared.

The robber’s scream broke off mid-cry. Con didn’t make a sound.

She heard thrashing, felt a gust of wind and then a horrendous crash shook the walls.

Silence descended. Dead silence.

She stood paralyzed. Her breath stopped. Her heart stopped.

The world stopped.

The three-story fall had to have killed them both.