Reaper's Legacy(5)

“Oh, f*ck me,” he muttered. “You got the keys?”

She shook her head.

“Zach does. He’s over by the bonfire. Maybe we should call an ambulance? Oh …” she groaned, leaning over.

“Hang in there,” he said. “I’ll get Zach. I can drive you to the hospital faster than an ambulance at this point.”

She groaned again and leaned back against the truck. Ruger took off toward the bonfire, finding Zach half passed out on the ground.

“On your feet, *,” Ruger demanded, grabbing him by the shirt and dragging him upright. “Keys. Now.”

Zach looked at him blankly. Was that barf on his shirt? High school kids stood around watching them, eyes wide as they clutched their big red Solo cups of cheap beer.

“Fuck me,” Ruger muttered again, digging down into his brother’s pants pocket, hoping like hell he hadn’t lost them. This was closer to Zach’s dick than he ever needed his hand to be. He pulled out the keys, dropping Zach back onto the dirt.

“You wanna see your kid gettin’ born, get your ass in the truck now,” Ruger told him. “I’m not waiting for you.”

With that he took off toward the Ford, wrenching open the door and lifting Sophie into the backseat. He heard a thudding noise and saw Zach climb into the truck bed out of the corner of his eye.

Little prick.

Ruger turned on the engine and popped the truck into gear, ready to go. Then he slammed it back into park, jumped out, and ran over to his bike. He had a little first aid kit in there. Nothing fancy, but at this rate they might need it. He climbed back in the truck, pulled out of the field, and started toward the highway, watching Sophie anxiously in the rearview mirror. She was panting hard and then she screamed.

Every hair on the back of his neck stood up.

“Holy shit, I feel like I need to push,” she cried. “Oh, God, it hurts. It hurts so bad. I’ve never felt anything like this. Drive faster—we need to get there fast …”

Her voice trailed off as she groaned again. Ruger drove faster, wondering if Zach had something to hold on to. He couldn’t see him back there. Maybe he’d passed out in the bed.

Hell, maybe he’d bounced out. Ruger didn’t care either way.

They’d almost made it to the highway when Sophie started shouting.

“Stop! Stop the truck.”

Ruger stopped, hoping to hell that didn’t mean what he thought it did. He threw on the parking brake and turned to see her, eyes closed, face almost purple and full of agony. She was crouching forward, moaning.

“Ambulance,” he said, his voice grim. She nodded tightly. He made the call, giving the operator the details of their situation. Afterward, he put the phone on speaker, dropping it to the seat. Then he got out and opened the back door, leaning in.

“I’m here with you, Sophie,” the 911 operator told them. “Hold on. The paramedics only have to come up from Hayden. You’ll see them soon.”

Sophie groaned through another contraction.

“I have to push.”

“The ambulance is ten minutes out,” the operator said. “Can you hold on until they reach you? They have everything they need to help you with this.”

“FUCK!” Sophie screamed, squeezing Ruger’s hands so hard his fingers went numb.

“All right. It’s unlikely the baby will be born before they arrive, but I want you to get ready, Ruger,” the operator said, her voice so calm she sounded stoned. How did she do that? He felt about thirty seconds away from a heart attack. “Sophie needs you now. The good news is that childbirth is natural and her body knows what to do. A baby born this fast usually means a very smooth delivery. Do you have a way to wash your hands?”

“Yeah,” Ruger muttered. “You gotta let go for a sec, Sophie.”

She shook her head, but he pried his hands free. He ripped into the first aid kit, pulling out a couple of ridiculously small sanitary wipe packets. Then he attacked his hands and tried to go after hers.

She screamed and punched his face.

Holy shit, girl had some power behind her. Ruger shook his head, then pulled it together, his cheekbone throbbing.

Another contraction.

“It’s too early,” Sophie gasped. “I can’t stop it. I have to push now.”

“When is she due?” the operator asked as Sophie moaned long and low.

“About a month,” Ruger told her. “It’s too early.”