Footsteps echoed from the far end of the lot, past the cars and a spindly fallen palm tree. He squinted through the darkness lit only by a half moon above. Damn, but it was dark. He would give his left nut for NVGs right now.
He picked his way across the lot, sidestepping an upended trash bin, hurtling over the downed tree. Foreboding buzzed in his ears like the distant rumble of crashing waves on the shore.
His eyes homed in on a glow ahead, lights inside a van with back doors open. The light dimmed with a couple of people blocking the opening. He charged ahead, his gaze locked in for some clue about what was going on, as the lighting shifted over the group. The glow flickered over long blonde hair, a female face…
Shit.
About fifty yards away, Amelia was draped over some man’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry. A woman beside them held a baby that looked too damn much like Joshua for his peace of mind. He didn’t know what the hell was going on but it couldn’t be good. The silent pantomime of the whole absurd scene sealed the deal.
Hugh drew his weapon. “Stop. Put the lady down now and pass over the child.”
The woman holding Joshua spun sharply, her face cast in shadows. She held the baby in front of her like a shield, damn it.
“Oliver.” The woman’s voice carried softly on the briny breeze. “Get the van started.”
The man—Oliver—threw Amelia into the van, diving in after her, and there wasn’t a thing Hugh could do about it with Joshua in the line of fire. He ground his teeth and assessed his options. For every step he took toward them across jigsawed asphalt, the woman backed away, closer to the grimy white van, until she hit the bumper. She ducked inside just as the vehicle’s engine roared to life.
Waiting time was over. Hugh bolted forward. The doors slammed shut. He ran full-out, eyes trained on the taillights glowing like red snake eyes in the night. He only had a split second to make his move, to—>He yanked up his pants, tugged on his T-shirt, and shrugged back into his survival vest, wondering why in the hell everything still felt so off-kilter. She’d said everything he should have wanted. Exactly the sort of words he’d spoken to women over the past five years. Sex. Just sex. No commitment or messy emotions. He’d seen she and the kid were okay. And all crazy sex aside, she’d still given him the free and clear to walk away. Except for the first time in five years, he didn’t want to walk, he didn’t want to forget.
And that scared him shitless.
***
She would never forget him.
How could she?
He’d saved her life—not to mention just given her earth-shattering sex, making her forget she was in a broom closet, for crying out loud. She’d learned one thing for sure. Her ex had been right in dissing their chemistry, because she’d never felt anything like this during her entire marriage.
Her ex was a serious dud in comparison to Hugh.
What if she’d met Hugh Franco during a true Bahamas holiday? Maybe she could have indulged in more than one impulsive encounter in a broom closet. But life wasn’t normal even when it was normal. She had a crummy marriage behind her and a dead father who’d left his kids with a crappy legacy of heavy-duty baggage.
All that aside, she had practical worries and concerns in looking after whatever family she had left. Tears burned to be set free but she held them back. She’d been selfish enough stealing the past twenty minutes for herself.
Time to focus solely on Joshua and finding the rest of her family.
She rounded the corner to the quiet pediatrics hall, weaving past crates and stacked supplies. The corridor was deserted, other than one nurse or doctor walking away with a toddler, the little guy sleeping on her shoulder.
The baby wriggled awake, eyes blinking wide and staring down the long hallway, straight at her. Something stirred inside Amelia. A sense of recognition.
Joshua.
She wasn’t sure how she could be so certain after only spending such a short time with him. But his little face seemed imprinted on the back of her eyelids… even deeper on her heart.
Why was the nurse taking him away? Was he sick after all? Or was it a doctor? The unfamiliar woman wore surgical scrubs like everyone else, her cluster of thin braids gathered into a low ponytail. A two-way radio was clipped to the waist of her pants.
Amelia raced down the hall, her borrowed tennis shoes squeaking against the tiles. “Excuse me.”
The woman didn’t turn, didn’t seem to have heard her at all. But her feet moved faster… Amelia’s heart sped with the first inklings of fear.
“Ma’am? Stop, please or I will find a guard.”
The woman turned slowly, holding Joshua so tightly he began to squirm. “Yes?” she said with a local accent. “What do you need, Doctor?”
This woman thought she was a physician? Amelia looked down at her own surgical scrubs. With medical personnel from different groups working together, it wasn’t unusual not to recognize the staff, and they were all wearing the same clothes stacked up beside the tarp shower stalls outside.
Still, alarms jangled in her head. The woman’s body language seemed off, and anyone could have picked up a set of the surgical clothes. “Is something wrong with him? Where are you taking him?”