Cut and Run(89)

Faith’s mind was spinning. Hayden was close. All she had to do was buy a little time.

As she reached the kitchen, she started toward the front door.

“No. Back door.”

She pictured Hayden rolling up in the cul-de-sac, seeing her car, and being distracted long enough for this man to get away with her and the baby. And if she died, he would surely double back and kill the girls. The baby began to fuss. “Aren’t you worried about the neighbors?”

“Keep it quiet, or I’ll kill it right here.”

She put her pinky in the baby’s mouth, and it suckled. Blood from the afterbirth had stained her shirt and was now dripping on the floor. “The baby needs to see a doctor.”

The wail of police sirens echoed in the distance, and he glanced over his shoulder. For the first time, he looked worried.

“Leave the girls,” she said. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know if you leave them.”

The sirens grew louder.

“We don’t have much time,” she said.

His jaw tensed. “They can identify me.”

“Does it matter? You get the package and you’ll get paid, right? Then you can vanish.”



Hayden’s lights were flashing as he and Brogan raced to the location. He saw Faith’s car parked in the cul-de-sac and moved in behind her. “Damn it. She doesn’t wait for anyone.”

Out of his car, he drew his weapon and hurried toward Faith’s car. The front door was ajar, and her purse and keys were on the passenger seat. He’d seen so much violence working for the Rangers, but he’d never thought about it touching Faith. He couldn’t entertain the thought of losing her, or he wouldn’t be able to function.

“She’s got to be inside. Call in marked units. I want this area surrounded.”

“Consider it done,” Brogan said.

The Rangers raced to the front door and heard the distant screaming and pounding from the basement. They hurried into the kitchen, and as Brogan moved cautiously down the stairs with his weapon drawn, Hayden glanced toward the back door and saw the small droplets of blood. “I’m heading to the backyard,” he said.

“Roger that,” Brogan said.

Hayden went out the back door and saw the trail of blood running down a narrow sidewalk leading to a back exit in the tall privacy fence that banded around the yard. He heard a car door close and ran, kicking through the privacy fence door. More blood droplets led to the side street that backed up to the house. He had only a split second to assess the situation. Blue four-door. Blood, woman in the passenger seat, and a man in the driver’s seat. The car wheels started to roll.

He leveled his weapon and fired, hitting the back right tire. As the car gained speed, he trained his weapon onto the left rear tire and fired. As much as he wanted to fire at the driver, he couldn’t risk hitting Faith.

But when the man in the front seat raised a weapon toward the passenger, a clear and calculated rage overtook him. Hayden drew in a breath as he lined up the sights on his weapon with the driver’s head. Don’t move, Faith. Don’t move. The car gained more speed even with the blown-out tires deflating quickly. He squeezed the trigger. His bullet blew out the back window and slammed into the jaw of the driver. The car swerved, careening left into a tree. He didn’t allow satisfaction as he raced ahead, desperate to see Faith alive and well.

When he reached the car, he kept his weapon drawn, his finger beside the trigger, ready to shoot again. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as his focus zeroed in on his target.

When he saw the man slumped over the wheel, Hayden yanked open the door and hauled the man out of the car. He heard a baby cry, saw a flicker of movement in his side vision, but kept his focus on the man.

The events that came next felt like they happened in slow motion, each critical action and reaction weighted with life and death.

Hayden threw the man face-first onto the grass and drove a knee into the small of his back as he kept his weapon trained on him with one hand and reached for his cuffs with the other. He snapped one cuff around one wrist and then, hauling the second wrist toward the first, clamped the cuff around it.

The baby’s cry grew louder, echoing its fear and panic as Hayden rolled the man on his back and pressed his fingertips to his carotid artery. There was no pulse. He recognized the guy. He’d tried to make a play for Faith the night of the fundraiser.

He then shifted his focus to the passenger seat. Faith was slumped over in the front seat, her body folded over the baby. Holstering his weapon, he raced to the passenger side and yanked open the door.

His heart sank as he thought about Faith dead and lost to him forever. He could not bear it. He could not.

Gently, he took her by the shoulders and carefully leaned her back, freeing the baby underneath. He could see a gash across her forehead and her lip was bloodied, but there seemed to be no other injuries. The baby cried. Faith blinked and moaned. She wasn’t unconscious, but badly stunned.

“Faith!” Sirens wailed around him.

Slowly she nodded her head. “I’m here.”

Jesus. A tangle of emotions clogged his throat, and it was all he could do to keep his voice even. “Faith, I don’t want you to move. The paramedics are here.”

“Kat and Paige are in the house,” she said. “They’re alive.”