Baby Breakout (10 page)

“Erica…”

He lowered his head and kissed her—deeply. And she kissed him back with all the passion she felt for him. It pulsed low in her body, winding a pressure tight inside her. It filled her ears with the sound of her own blood rushing through her veins.

But a rapid beep, beep, beep broke the grip of desire, clearing her head, so that she heard the broadcast announcement:

“Early this morning the governor has issued a special press release. In order to apprehend the convicts who escaped during the prison riot at Blackwoods Penitentiary in northern Michigan, he has put a bounty on the head of each of the prisoners. These bounties will be paid either to the person who actually apprehends these escapees or to the person who provides information leading to their apprehension.”

His voice quavering with excitement, the reporter stated the amount on each convict. “But the highest bounty will be paid for the apprehension of cop killer Jedidiah Kleyn.”

A pithy curse escaped Jed’s lips with a hiss of breath. “That’s not a bounty,” he murmured. “It’s a death warrant…”

He hadn’t been lying about the shoot-on-sight order. In light of the bounty, he’d probably actually downplayed how much danger he was really in.

“You have to leave,” she urged him as panic gripped her.

Mrs. Osborn might have believed that Jed was Erica’s friend, but that wouldn’t matter if she recognized his photo and thought she could collect that kind of money for reporting his location.

And she would recognize the photo that filled the television screen. It wasn’t his mug shot, with his full head of dark hair and clean-shaven square jaw, that they had previously shown. This was his prison ID that must have finally been retrieved from the ruins that was all that was left of Blackwoods Penitentiary. In this picture, there was more stubble on his jaw than his shaved head. And he looked hard and dangerous—like he did now.

He swore again. Then he grabbed up his shirt from the floor and dragged it over his head. “Erica—”

“Go,” she said, the panic stealing away her breath as it pressed heavily on her lungs. “You have to get out of here before it’s too late.”

But then a noise penetrated the thin window panes of her home. Sirens.

It was already too late.

The authorities were coming for him with orders to shoot on sight.

* * *

“Y
OU
MANIPULATIVE
MONSTER
,”
Drake Ketchum shouted through the bars of the Blackwoods County jail.

A smile tugged at Jefferson’s lips. “Are you supposed to be talking to me without my lawyer present?” he goaded the ambitious, young Blackwoods County district attorney.

“I’m going to trace this back to you and add it to the other charges you’re going down for,” Ketchum threatened.

“Trace what back to me?”

“You’re behind the bounty,” Ketchum said. “You talked the governor into it!”

Jefferson chuckled. “You give me entirely too much credit. Do you really think I’d still be in here if the governor was taking my calls?”

Ketchum was the real master of manipulation; at the arraignment, he’d talked the judge into denying bail for Jefferson.

“Then you put your sleazy attorney up to it.”

Jefferson shrugged. “Prove it,” he challenged the man. “You won’t be able to do that any easier than you’ll be able to prove I ordered the murder of an undercover DEA agent, since your star witness is dead.”

Sheriff York stood beside Ketchum—two young men who were stupid and idealistic enough to believe they ruled this county. Jefferson nearly laughed again, but it was York who chuckled this time.

“Kleyn isn’t dead,” the sheriff said.

He shrugged again—unconcerned because they were entirely too concerned. “You have him in protective custody then?”

“Not yet,” York admitted.

“Then you better get him there soon,” he spoke to Ketchum, “or you’re going to lose that star witness for sure—what with every law-enforcement officer and bounty hunter in this state and probably most of the surrounding ones gunning for him.”

Ketchum’s gaze slid from his to the sheriff. “He’s right. You better find him first.”

Jefferson was enjoying this visit immensely. It was good for these young fools to know who really had all the power. “And, since you don’t know where he is, I feel compelled to point out that you don’t know for certain if he’s still alive.”

“Thanks to that bounty we know,” Ketchum replied. “If he was dead, someone would have tried to claim it.”

Jefferson nodded. “True. Unless the person Kleyn’s in the most danger from has no use for the bounty. If that convict is actually as innocent as he claims and the DEA agent believes he is, then there’s someone who wants him dead even more…”

“Than you do?”

He chuckled at Ketchum’s weak attempt to trap him. “You’re going to have to do better than that,” he warned the man. Then he turned to the sheriff. “And so are you if you want to bring that escapee back alive.”

“You should have figured out by now that the man isn’t easy to kill,” York reminded him. “Your fellow guards have already told us that you ordered his murder after the prison doctor’s. But then the riot broke out.”

And everything had gone to hell. Because of Jedidiah Kleyn. Now it was his turn to go to hell.

Chapter Nine

In tight fists, Jed gripped the steering wheel of Erica’s van. He had to stay in control. For so many reasons…

The most important one slept in her car seat in the back. He glanced into the rearview mirror at the reflection of her peaceful face. Since he’d met her, he had spent a lot of time watching Isobel sleep.

Then he turned toward the woman who sat in the passenger seat beside him. She had not slept at all the previous night, and from the tension gripping her body and beautiful face, she would not sleep anytime soon.

She was another reason for him to stay in control. The other was the authorities they had barely escaped, passing the patrol cars minutes before they would have pulled up to her building.

He had to stay calm and keep his wits about him because not only would the police be after him now, but so would every bounty hunter and civilian who wanted to collect the reward for his head.

Just being with him was putting Erica and Isobel in danger, too. He drew in a deep breath, bracing himself for the answer to the question he had to ask her. “Why did you agree to leave with me?”

Erica turned toward the backseat and their sleeping daughter. “Mrs. Osborn will tell the police that I called you a friend. Then they’ll believe that I’m aiding and abetting you. They would arrest me and take Isobel off to child protective services—just like you warned me.”

“I’m sorry…” That he had been right, and he was also sorry for letting her go along with him to confront Marcus. The minute he’d realized she had been duped just like the jury of his peers, he should have left her and Isobel. But he hadn’t entirely believed that she was telling the truth. He couldn’t trust her.

He shouldn’t trust anyone. But to protect her and their daughter, he had no choice.

“Now we’re forced to live like you—” her voice cracked on a sob, but she forced it down with a deep breath “—on the run.”

“I’m sorry…” He glanced into the rearview mirror again but not to watch their daughter sleep. Instead he tracked the vehicle that was closing the careful distance at which the driver had been following them from Miller’s Valley.

He’d taken her van and had left his in the alley because authorities had probably figured out by now that the guard’s van was missing. They would have issued an APB on that license plate. But maybe one had already been issued on Erica’s, too.

Living on the run might be the least of her concerns because it looked as though they were about to get caught. The only question was, who was doing the catching…

* * *

E
RICA
’
S
BACK
PRESSED
AGAINST
the seat as the van accelerated. She followed Jed’s gaze to the rearview mirror. “Is someone following us?”

“I think so,” he tersely admitted.

“Is it a police officer?” She turned around to check again for flashing lights.

He shook his head. “It’s not a patrol car, and it doesn’t look like an unmarked police car, either.”

“You think it’s him—the intruder,” she said, as he accelerated some more.

“It could be a bounty hunter.” His mouth curved into a cynical half smile, as he added, “Hell, it could even be your neighbor Mrs. Osborn determined to collect that reward.”

An image of the old woman chasing them down with her battered Bonneville elicited a giggle from Erica. “The doctor took away her license until she gets her cataracts removed.”

“So it’s not Mrs. Osborn,” he surmised, his half smile slipping into a full grin for just a minute before it disappeared.

“No, it’s not.”

How much had he had to grin about over the past three years? Nothing, she would bet.

“It might not be anyone,” he said. “It could just be someone who’s coincidentally traveling the same road we are.”

“Toward your friend’s house?”

When they had heard the sirens in the distance, he had urged her to come with him. He promised that he knew someone, probably the one lawman he had faith in, who would be able to protect her and Isobel. And in the heat and panic of the moment, she had believed her instincts were right and trusted him.

She hoped like hell she wouldn’t regret giving that trust because it wasn’t just her heart at risk this time—it was her daughter’s life.

Jed shrugged, but his nonchalant gesture didn’t fool her since he focused on the mirror again.

“You don’t think it’s a coincidence,” she said. “And if it is that person who broke into my house, then he’s going to know where you’re bringing us.”

“I’ll lose him.” And he accelerated again. But her van was old, and the engine shuddered instead of shifting. He cursed beneath his breath.

“You’re not going to lose him in this.” The mechanic had warned her that she needed a new transmission. However, she didn’t often have to drive anywhere in Miller’s Valley, so she had been waiting until she needed to travel somewhere. She hadn’t imagined that the van would have to make two long-distance trips within a few hours.

And that it would have to outrun a faster vehicle. The rev of a powerful engine echoed as the car behind them accelerated.

They should have taken his vehicle, but he’d explained that the police might have already been looking for it. Now she wished they’d taken their chances with the police…

She repeated the fear that was causing that fluttery panic in her chest again. “He’s going to follow to wherever you’re bringing us.”

She really should have asked where he was bringing them; she shouldn’t have given her trust so blindly. But after how she’d given him her mistrust in the past, she’d felt as if she’d owed him.

But she couldn’t worry about Jed anymore; she had to worry about her daughter. “Isobel will still be in danger.”

“Not with Rowe Cusack.”

“The DEA agent?” she asked. The one whose badge Jed had flashed to fool her. “He’s been helping you?”

A muscle twitched along his jaw as he glanced into the rearview mirror. And he didn’t reply.

“Jed?” she prodded him, her stomach clenching with apprehension. “Does he know you’re coming? Is he
really
helping you?”

“He will.”

But the DEA agent wouldn’t be able to help them if they couldn’t get to him. The car had gained on them, coming up so fast and close that it struck the rear bumper of the van.

Isobel woke up with a scream that echoed Erica’s.

Erica fought back her own panic and forced a smile as she leaned over her seat to face her daughter. “It’s okay, sweetheart. No reason to be afraid.”

The car connected with their rear bumper again. Even though she saw it coming, a scream bubbled back up in Erica’s throat. She choked it down and offered Isobel another shaky smile. “See, it’s just like playing bumper cars at the fair.”

Isobel’s eyes widened. “But this isn’t a bumpa car, Mommy.”

“We’re just pretending it is,” Erica explained. But the other car wasn’t just pretending; it really was hitting them, and very hard.

The tires skidded as they tried to grip the snow-covered pavement. She needed new tires, too. But that was another thing she had thought she would be able to put off purchasing for a while. The van spun around, nearly sliding off the road into one of the ditches on the side. Because the ditches were so deep and usually filled with water, people drowned if their vehicles went off into them.

Isobel screamed, but with no fear this time. She had bought Erica’s story of make-believe. So when the car struck them again, the little girl squealed with excitement and joy.

Erica blinked against the sting of tears and hung onto her fake smile even as she turned toward Jed. He wasn’t smiling. He was so focused on driving that he might not have even heard the lie that she had told their daughter. He’d heard the story she’d given Mrs. Osborn, too—first about her emergency in Grand Rapids and then about Jed being her friend. He probably thought she lied very easily and very often. He would never trust her now, and she didn’t blame him.

His knuckles turned from dark red to white as he gripped the steering wheel. And a muscle twitched in his cheek, above his rigidly held jaw. He was determined to protect them. But it was obvious that he wasn’t convinced that he could.

Neither was Erica.

* * *

A
CRASH
REVERBERATED
inside Macy’s head, jerking her awake. Her neck ached from how she’d fallen asleep leaning over the armrest of a chair near Rowe’s desk.

Strong fingers brushed hair back from her face. “Go back to sleep,” a deep voice urged her. “Go lay down in the bed this time, though.”

She squinted against the sunlight pouring through a window high in the wall of the apartment that had been carved out of a corner of an abandoned airport hangar. “I can’t sleep.”

“You’ve been out for a couple of hours,” he pointed out, his sexy mouth sliding into a crooked grin.

“I can’t sleep now,” she said with a shiver. “I have a really bad feeling.”

Rowe came to her, lifting her from the chair only to settle back into it with her wrapped in his arms. “Sweetheart…”

Tears stung her eyes. “He’s in too much danger—even more than he was in at Blackwoods. I’m afraid I’m never going to see my brother again.”

Rowe said nothing, just tightened his strong arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She regretted now making him promise not to keep anything from her. She wished he could offer her some pretty lies that Jed was perfectly safe—that he would be fine and proven innocent soon.

She had spent the entire trial believing the fantasy that an innocent man wouldn’t go to prison. Then she’d spent three years believing that his innocence would be revealed. She had wasted too much of her life believing that justice would win out. Now she knew better than anyone—but Jed—how unjust life could be.

But nothing would be more unjust than Jed dying a convicted killer. However, the sick feeling in her stomach worried her—that it was already too late for Jed to find the real killer. That eerie sense of foreboding that had jerked her awake had her convinced that the real killer had found Jed first.

* * *

F
OR
THREE
YEARS
,
Jed had been locked into a six-by-six cage. He had been allowed out to eat in the cafeteria and to exercise in the prison yard. He hadn’t been allowed to drive. But before his arrest, he’d been driving Humvees in Afghanistan.

The instincts that had aided him in avoiding ambushes and roadside bombs and had earned him that Purple Heart kicked in again. The minivan was no Humvee, but Jed—full of determination to protect his family as he had protected his men during their missions—steered it like it was one. He wrenched the wheel, driving into the skid across the slippery spring snow.