The Littlest Target

God, keep me from crashing into her!

The rapid-response truck slammed to a stop and he felt the back corner hit a rock with the kind of crunch that had him guessing he’d be looking at a new bumper and a little bit of bodywork when he got back home.

He looked up through the windshield. The sports car wasn’t as well-off. The front end was embedded in a thick pine tree and the airbag had deployed. He just hoped the driver was all right.

No signal on his cell phone. He grabbed his CB radio and clipped it to his shoulder, ready to call in backup the second he assessed the scene and coordinated with the lead officer. As first on the scene, it was the cop’s job to make the call.

Max grabbed the bright red jump bag that held all his basic medical necessities, slung it over his shoulder and ran toward the accident. The police car had stopped. In the dim headlights, he watched as a large man with a bald head ran toward the sports car, reached it first and yanked the driver’s door open.

“My name is Max Henry, and I’m an Ontario paramedic!” Max shouted. “Stay back and let me assess injuries!”

The man didn’t even turn. Instead he reached into the car, grabbed the driver and pulled her out. She screamed. The man threw her to the ground and forced her down onto her knees. A baby’s wail filled the air. Max’s heart stopped. There was an infant in the car!

“Get back in your truck and let me handle this!” the bald man thundered at him. “This woman is a dangerous criminal and I’m taking her into custody for murder and kidnapping!”

“He’s lying!” the blonde yelled. Her accent was British, the kind that made him think of royalty and the Tower of London. She was kneeling down on the ground with one palm pressed into the pavement. Strength battled the vulnerability in her face. But it was the defiance in her eyes that made his breath catch.

The wail of the baby grew louder. Max listened carefully. It was the strong and hearty yell of an infant who was several months old, and definitely a howl of anger, rather than a whimper of pain or distress. Thankfully.

Max raised his hands and took a step forward. “Please, Officer, I’m not trying to get in your way, just let me make sure the baby and driver are both okay.”

“Max, listen to me!” The sound of his name on the young woman’s lips seemed to shake something inside his chest. “I’m not kidnapping this baby, and I didn’t kill anyone. I promise. I’m his nanny. This man’s name is Smith. He’s not a cop. He’s a killer. He murdered the baby’s stepmother—”

Her words were swallowed up in a cry as Smith cuffed her hard on the back of her head. Max’s jaw set. This stopped here and now.

“Step away from her with your hands up!” Max shouted. “If you really are a cop, I demand you show me your badge, although I’m pretty sure that despite the pretty flashing police lights on the car, which I now presume you’ve stolen, you don’t have one.” He grabbed the CB radio from his shoulder. “I’m calling this in.”

Smith reached around his back. A Glock flashed in his hands so quickly Max barely had time to process what had happened. But there it was, with its barrel focused on Max’s face.

“Drop the radio and get down on the ground now,” Smith ordered. “Hands behind your head. Or I will shoot you where you stand.”

TWO

Max froze. Okay, Lord, now what do I do? He’d faced more than his fair share of criminals without the benefit of a weapon or bulletproof vest. In fact, he’d just finished telling an auditorium full of fresh-faced university students that paramedics were attacked and injured more often than those in any other lifesaving career, and that he’d personally taken more blows to the jaw, punches, kicks and attempted stabbings than he liked to remember. But a bullet? This would be a first.

“I said, let her go.” Max’s voice rose. Gun or not, there was no way he was backing down now. “I will not let you hurt them.”

Even if it meant fighting to his dying breath. The nanny’s right hand darted behind her back. Smith aimed the gun at Max’s head. Something cold glinted in his eyes and suddenly Max knew with crystal clear certainty this man would kill him without a moment’s hesitation.

Oh, Lord, I really need Your help right now!

The nanny yanked a pair of scissors out from behind her back and plunged them into Smith’s leg. He swore. The gun fired, its bullet flew high into the sky.

Max dived into a front roll, feeling the heavy fabric of his uniform take the impact as his body hit the pavement. The woman slipped from Smith’s grasp and ran for the car.

Max charged, throwing himself at Smith and locking his own hands around the weapon before Smith could get off another shot. They wrestled for the gun, rolling on the ground, as Max battled to hold his own against a man twice his size. He heard the sound of a car seat carrier unclicking from its base, a car door slamming and footsteps in the trees. The baby’s cries faded into the distance.

The good news was it sounded like she’d got the baby safely out of the car. Bad news was it sounded like she was running.

The gun flew from Smith’s grasp. Max sprang to his feet, only for Smith to level a sucker punch to his jaw that filled his eyes with stars. Smith darted for his vehicle. Max stood frozen for a second, uncertain which direction to run. But even before he heard the unmarked police car’s door slam, he knew his answer. It wasn’t his job to stop criminals. It was his job to save the lives of anyone who needed him.

Max took off running through the woods, following the sound of the nanny’s footsteps and the baby’s angry wail. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the night around him. A woman and a baby alone in the woods, what did she think she was doing? Where did she think she was going?

Ahead of him he could hear her crashing through the trees. Behind him, the police car’s engine roared and then faded back along the highway. Smith was leaving.

“Hey! Wait! It’s okay!” Max called. “He’s gone! You’re safe!”

Then he could see her, dim in the moonlight, as she darted through the trees ahead of him with a bag on her shoulder and the baby in the car seat carrier clutched to her chest. He was gaining on her and so close that in another minute or two, he’d be able to touch her shoulder. She stopped, set the baby carrier down at her feet, spun back and raised the scissors.

“Stop! Right there!” she said. “Not another step! Or I’ll stab you! I’m not kidding. I will not let you hurt Fitz.”

“Oh, I totally believe you would stab me.” Max froze. “And while I have more than enough gauze and bandages in my jump bag to patch myself up again, I really don’t want to.”

The corner of her lips twitched. His hands rose higher as his eyes ran over the baby. To his relief, the child looked fine and more surprised than hurt or scared. Still, a visual examination wasn’t as accurate as a physical one would be.

“I promise, I only want to help, and Smith is gone,” he said. “However he got his hands on an undercover cop car, I really don’t believe he was an actual cop. You have nothing to fear now. It’s just us three.”

Cold March wind flickered between the trees. The baby whimpered softly. The woman reached down, tucked him deeper into the blankets and pulled the hood up over him. Where did she think she was going? The closest town was over an hour’s drive away. She had no wheels, no shelter, nothing.

Nothing but him.

“I’m just reaching for my flashlight, okay?” he said. “It’s on my belt. I just think this might go a bit easier if we can see each other better. All right?”

She nodded. He reached with one hand, clipped the light from his belt, switched it on and set it on the ground. A warm, yellow glow spread through the trees, casting the underbrush and branches in a maze of shifting shadows.

They both stepped forward into the light and his eyes scanned her slender frame. Her hair tumbled loose and wild around her shoulders. Her eyes were large, dark and luminous. Once again, the thought of British moors and royalty crossed his mind. It was like something out of one of those books his mother read, about beautiful and plucky countesses who escaped their captors, slipped from their prisons and ran with the royal heir.

Only, he was no fairytale hero. And whatever danger this woman was in that had her tearing through the woods and clutching a pair of scissors out in front of her like a weapon was all too real.

“I’m really not a criminal,” she said again. “I didn’t steal this baby and I didn’t kill anyone.”

“I hear you,” Max said. He even had a hunch she was telling the truth. But that didn’t mean he was about to let his guard down. He gestured to the badge on his shoulder. “I’m not a cop. Like I told you, I’m just a paramedic and I don’t have the power to arrest anyone. It’s my job to help people—even if they are criminals. I’m just like a doctor, only with a lot more time spent working in the rain and getting covered by mud.”

“Forgive me, but the fact you’re in a uniform and waving a badge around doesn’t immediately mean I’ll trust you,” she said. “I’ve met too many people like you who couldn’t figure out the real truth of a situation if someone had smacked them on the head with it.”

Something in the quiver of her chin told him there was a story there, and it wasn’t a good one. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll do my best to pay close attention to anything you hit me with.”

Was it his imagination or had that very slight smile curled a little more at the corner of her lips?

“Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate what you did back there. I really do. You probably saved our lives. But I don’t want your help and I don’t want you getting involved. Just tell me how to get to the next town and rent a car, and I’ll take it from there.”

He nodded slowly. “Why?” he asked.

“What do you mean why?” Her arms crossed and the scissors dropped to the ends of her fingertips. Okay, now they were getting somewhere. “I need a car, because the one I was driving is now wrapped around a tree.”

“I mean, why won’t you let me help you?” he asked. “It will take you hours to walk to the next town. It’s supposed to rain eventually, even though the weather guys seem a bit late on that one. You’re going to have a hard time finding anyone who’ll rent you a car for at least nine hours. And something tells me you’re not about to just hitchhike with some stranger.”

“You’re a stranger,” she said.

Max felt a grin spreading across his face. He had to admit, weird as this was, he almost liked her. Sure, she was aggravating, stubborn and still might stab him. But there was something impressive about her, too. She had gumption as his dad would call it.

“Good point,” he said. “Then let’s get acquainted. As I shouted earlier while running toward a gunman, my name is Max Henry. I’m a paramedic from Huntsville, Ontario. I have three brothers—two older and one younger—and no pets. Now, would you like me to toss you my wallet so you can check my ID?”

She smiled. “No, that’s okay. My name is Daisy. This is Fitz. Like I said before, I’m his nanny.”

He waited to see if she was going to tell him anything more. The wind picked up, sending trees dancing with a sound like brushes on a steel drum. She pressed her lips together and stared him down. Guess that was all the info he was getting for now.

“It’s nice to meet you, Daisy,” Max said. “Who’s Smith?”

Her slim shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t know his full name. He worked for Fitz’s dad until I’m guessing he double-crossed him. Fitz’s dad warned me not to let him or anyone else near the baby and to take Fitz to Sault Sainte Marie.”

Max whistled. “That’s a long drive. You said he killed Fitz’s mother?”

“Stepmother actually, but yeah,” she said. “His mother died in childbirth.”

Max felt an eyebrow rise. Dying in childbirth did happen, true, but it was very rare in Canada. Not to mention Fitz was less than a year old. Had Fitz’s parents split up when she was pregnant? How quickly had Fitz’s father remarried?

And was he going to learn any of these people’s real full names?

He’d never met anyone so determined to tell him as little information as humanly possible, like she was slipping tiny scraps of it to him through the bars of a prison window.

“We need to call this in and let police know that a woman is dead,” Max said as gently as he could.

“They know,” she said. “It was on the news and I saw a police car fly past me as I was leaving.”

Really, he couldn’t remember hearing about any murders on the radio and a murder tended to be at the top of the news. There’d been a major fire reported in Quebec. But nothing that had involved a baby or a murdered woman. He clenched his jaw and fought the urge to dig.

WIN. The acronym he’d heard and used himself hundreds of times filled his mind. What’s Important Now.

As fascinating as whatever murder mystery she was caught up in might be, it wasn’t the most important thing right now. The most important thing was convincing her to get in his vehicle and let him take them to safety. Prying was tempting. But prying would also probably spook her and the last thing he needed was for her to run.

His arms crossed. Time to negotiate.

“Well, Daisy. You want to get to the nearest town and to get a vehicle. I want to double-check that Fitz is okay and give you a ride—”

“I also don’t want the police involved.” She cut him off. “Not until I’m convinced that I can trust them. Right now, all I know is that some cops want to hurt Fitz, and I don’t know which cops I can trust.”

He ran his hand through his dark shaggy hair. “Would you talk to a trustworthy and honest cop?”

“Yes, but when and how I do is a decision I get to make.”

She was impossible. He had three cops in his family—Trent and his fiancée, Chloe, and his eldest brother, Jacob. Plus, his youngest brother, Nick, was in the military, which meant all four Henry brothers were in some form of uniformed lifesaving work. He pressed his lips together, debated telling her that and decided against it for fear it would spook her even worse.

“Well, I have to call the accident in,” Max said. “What if someone else comes along and hits it? You think your boss wants you to leave his very expensive sports car wrecked at the side of the road?”

“You think he wants me to risk his baby’s life for the sake of reporting a crashed car?” Her voice matched the volume of his. “He’s got plenty of cars. He’s only got one son!”

Okay, maybe she had a point with that one. But Max was also pretty sure that her boss was a crook, which made her an accomplice to who knew what kind of crime. He ran his hand over the back of his neck. The frustration that burned there was less at her and more at Fitz’s father and Smith and whatever dishonest and crooked things they were involved in that had cost Fitz’s stepmother her life and had left Daisy out here alone, in the woods with a baby to protect.

The wind grew sharper. Fitz’s whimpers turned to cries. Daisy leaned down and rocked him gently. Max could tell the baby was about to howl and was positive Daisy could tell that, too.

He ran his hand over his jaw and asked God to help him choose his words carefully.

“Look, you’re obviously in trouble,” he said, “and I obviously want to help. I’ve got a vehicle. It’s plenty warm and comfortable. If you let me give you a ride to the next town, I promise I won’t call 911, try to take you to a police station or pry anymore into your life. My responsibility is to make sure you’re both okay, no matter your story. Now, please, will you let me do my job and help you?”

* * *

Silent prayers filled Daisy’s heart, even as she could feel it beating like a drum. He had no idea how tempting his offer was, how long the last hours of driving had dragged on her limbs and just how much she wanted to be somewhere safe, away from the cold and the fear.

But she couldn’t let her guard down. Smith had somehow found her and the fact that he’d also somehow got his hand on a police vehicle didn’t do much to sway her concerns about Gerry’s warning not to trust the cops. Plus, when she’d grabbed her bag and Fitz’s car seat out of the wrecked remains of Gerry’s smashed car, she’d found a brand-new prepaid burner cell phone and two envelopes of hundred-dollar bills that she guessed totaled at least a few grand on the floor of the back seat. She’d grabbed the phone on impulse in case anything happened to the one Gerry had given her and had stuffed the cash in her rucksack, figuring she’d need some money to take care of Fitz. It had been a split-second decision she’d made without thinking. Now, that the world was quiet again she wondered if it’d been the right one.

Could a burner phone be traced like a regular cell phone could? The phone looked like it had never even been activated. Would using it be more or less safe than using the phone Gerry had given her? She had no idea.

Max was still staring at her, waiting for her to say something. Her eyes roamed over him as if searching for answers to questions she couldn’t even think to ask.

He was tall with broad shoulders and arms that hinted he was able to carry a lot more weight than his slender build implied. His dark hair was soaked with sweat, slightly messy and curling just a little at his neck. His blue paramedic uniform radiated reassurance and authority.

But then again, so had all the uniforms of the men who’d stood in her living room and listened to her stepfather’s lies, while he denied he’d ever lost his temper and hit anyone, pressured her mom to say she was clumsy and branded Daisy hysterical.

Daisy’s eyes met Max’s again. They were green, with a look in their depths that spoke of protection, security and warmth. Suddenly she realized she was holding the scissors so loosely he could’ve probably knocked them from her fingers and taken it at any time. Her grip tightened. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I will not let you hurt Fitz.”

“Understood,” he said. “I just want to take a look at him to make sure he’s okay. He looks fine from here but I won’t know for sure until I can take a more thorough look. Let’s start by walking back to my vehicle where the light is better. Then we can stand and argue there if you’d like. Judging by the look of the accident, the state of the car seat and his type of cry, I’m pretty sure he’s not injured. But I still need to check.”

She felt her lips curl into a smile again. He had this way of talking that her aunt would have referred to disparagingly as “a bit of cheek.” But it wasn’t rude. Not at all. It was more like he was constantly trying to lighten the mood just enough to reassure her that she didn’t have to be afraid. It was comforting.

“Okay. Just don’t try anything funny.” She straightened her rucksack on one shoulder, slid the scissors into her belt and picked up Fitz’s car seat with the opposite hand.

Max reached to pick up the flashlight and she saw the curve of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She followed him back through the woods to his paramedic vehicle. Max ran the light over the back of it. The right rear fender looked like a giant hand had punched it.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can give you some money to cover repairs and to pay for gas.”

“Please don’t worry about it,” he said. “Now, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to double-check that Fitz is every bit as healthy as we both think he is.”

She nodded and set the car seat down. She hadn’t managed to salvage the toy boat Gerry had thoughtfully bought his son. But Fitz had somehow managed to pull the soft yellow fabric sail off and now clutched it to his cheek like a blanket. “Max is going to take a quick look at you and make sure you’re okay. Nothing to worry about.”

She wasn’t sure if she was reassuring Fitz or herself. Either way, she stepped back and watched as he approached, crouched down and gently brushed his fingers along Fitz’s pudgy limbs. Fitz looked up at Max. His huge baby blue eyes filled with wonderment. Yeah, she knew how he felt.

“You’re okay, aren’t you, buddy?” Max said, softly. He reached into the car seat and carefully pulled Fitz out and into his arms.

Daisy’s breath caught in her throat. Every muscle in her body tensed. The only other person she’d ever seen hold Fitz were those moments she left him and Gerry alone to open and play with whatever new toy he’d brought. Not even Anna had shown any interest in holding her stepson. Daisy always figured she needed time to warm up. Now she never would.

“Can you hold him?” Max asked. Without missing a beat, he slipped Fitz into her waiting arms even as she felt her hands reach out instinctively to take him. “I find with a child this small, a lot of caregivers are more comfortable if they hold him during an examination.”

She watched and waited while Max carefully checked Fitz’s eyes and ran his hands over his limbs. Fitz chortled, and his laughter made something catch in Daisy’s throat.

“He’s teething,” she said. “Lower gum on the right side. He’s been fussing more than usual and has a slight fever that comes and goes.”

“All very normal.” Max nodded seriously. Then he stepped back and checked the car seat over. “Everything seems fine. No sign of injury, trauma or distress. The fact the car seat didn’t sustain any damage is a good sign. Still, you shouldn’t reuse a car seat after it’s been in an accident. But the rental place should have one and I do have a spare one in my vehicle we can use for now. Now, how about you? Any pain from the accident? How are you feeling?”

He looked at her pensively, like she was a bomb he needed to defuse or a problem he needed to solve.

“I’m fine,” she said. “A bit stiff and sore, but I’ll live. Now, tell me, why are you doing this?”

He paused. There was no smile on his face now. But even with a slight frown, there was still something soft about his face. “I told you. You’re in trouble and you need help.”

The moon disappeared behind the clouds. A shiver ran down her back. “I told you I didn’t want your help.”

“I know,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

The rain fell suddenly, in just a few scattered drops like the splattering of a garden hose. Fitz screamed. Daisy wrapped her arms around him and ran for the shelter of the truck. Max opened the back door for her, and she climbed onto the back seat and held Fitz on her lap while Max ran back around to get the car seat.

She looked around the vehicle. She’d thought it was a police vehicle when she’d first passed it. Now she saw it was actually a truck, with both a front and a back seat. The covered truck bed was filled with brightly colored and neatly stacked bags of medical equipment, with labels like Primary Response, Secondary Response and Pediatric. The front of the unit had a laptop, a huge screen and some kind of radio device.

Fitz squealed happily and tried to lunge between the seats to push the shiny buttons. She caught him. “I think Fitz wants to play with your toys.”

Max laughed. “I don’t blame him. I’ve got some pretty snazzy gadgets.” He leaned in the opposite door and strapped the car seat in.

“What is this thing you’re driving anyway?” she asked. “I thought it was a police vehicle at first.”

“A rapid-response unit can do everything an ambulance can do except transport an injured person to hospital,” Max said. Raindrops brushed the strong lines of his jaw. He clipped the seat belt in place around the car seat, then pulled it carefully, checking each strap in turn. “Think of it like this, if you get into an accident, a rapid-response vehicle will probably get there first, then an ambulance if needed. Or, if neither can reach you, we’ll send in an air-ambulance helicopter, which happens a lot around here.”

“Do you ever fly the helicopter?” she asked.

“I fly in the helicopter, but I don’t pilot it,” he said. “I do know how to fly a helicopter, though. I’ve taken enough piloting lessons. I’ve just never tested for my pilot’s license.”

“Why not?” She felt her nose crinkle. “If I could fly something, nothing would stop me.”