Hugh’s hand curled into a fist a second before he whispered, “Now.”
Chapter 8
Hugh launched forward, eyes on the green glow of the dash lights. He didn’t want to think about the inevitable wreck.
Rushing the pair up front was his only option. At least he had the reassurance Amelia would do everything possible to keep the baby safe. But he could not let them get to this “Guardian” person.
His arm swept a stack of crates like a battering ram, toppling them onto Tandi. The van veered hard. He landed on the driver, arm around Oliver’s neck. A low-lying branch slammed into the windshield. Glass shattered. Oliver clawed at Hugh’s cheek, his voice garbled.
Hugh squeezed his forearm harder along the windpipe of the bastard who’d kidnapped Joshua and Amelia. The criminal who’d leered at Amelia, not even bothering to hide his lecherous plans. He wanted to kill the bastard. No one would blame him. This was a kill-or-be-killed situation.
But Amelia sat in back. She didn’t need to see that side, the violent side of him that seethed like the assholes she put in prison. He would hold tight, squeeze just long enough to knock him out—
Oliver stabbed back with a knife from nowhere. Hugh jerked, the knife grazing his leg in a fiery swipe. The car swerved. Hugh adjusted his hold and resorted to a Vulcan nerve pinch—fast and effective. Oliver slumped forward, foot ramming the accelerator.
Shit.
Hugh’s hands shot forward to grab the steering wheel. The van rocked, catapulting over a ditch.
“Brace, brace, brace!” Hugh shouted to Amelia.
“I hear you,” she shouted back just as the van went airborne. Time seemed to freeze for those three seconds before—
The van rammed a palm tree, flinging Hugh forward. He forced himself not to tense, to roll with the momentum rather than fight it. Pain exploded through him as the vehicle settled. Wrapped around the dash, he willed the world on the other side of the fractured glass to steady. But the spinning landscape just kept right on whirling like a kaleidoscope.
He looked left and right fast to make sure no one would come gunning for him. Tandi lay slumped against the door, her eyes wide, vacant, sightlessly dead. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Oliver… still unconscious.
A scream boomeranged around the tinny cavern. A baby’s cry. The kid. Joshua was alive.
But Amelia?
“Amelia,” Hugh barked out, his voice more of a breathless croak, since the wind had been knocked out of him.
Hugh pushed away from the dash, careful to test his arms and legs. “Amelia, answer me, damn it. Are you and the kid okay?”
Panic replaced the pain, quickly, fiercely, and so intensely, he was rattled all over again by how fast the woman wrecked his professional distance.
He staggered toward the back, the baby’s cries increasing to all-out screams. Hugh grappled along the side for balance. His eyes locked on the slim long legs stretched out from behind the boxes where he’d sent her to curl up around Joshua.
His gut knotted.
He rounded the boxes. Amelia lay on her back, eyes closed, her arms still locked tight around Joshua. The toddler shrieked and squirmed in her hold, his tiny arms and legs flailing.
Hugh dropped to his knees beside her. “Amelia? Amelia, answer me, damn it.”
He cupped her face, patting lightly. The light was too dim for him to assess her fully, the moon giving way to the early-morning sun fighting to slice through the night.
“Amelia,” he said louder, snatching up her wrist to check her pulse. Steady. Strong. He almost sank back on his ass with relief.
She groaned. He straightened, staring at her face. Her nose scrunched.
“That’s right, Amelia,” he said. “Wake up. You’re okay. The kid’s okay.”
He patted the baby’s back awkwardly.
She crinkled her nose again, her eyes fluttering open. “Hugh? Do you smell smoke?”
Shit! He should have thought of that. He looked in front fast. The first rays of sunrise illuminated the smoke spiraling from the engine crumpled against the tree.