Page 10 of Surprise Baby for the Enemy

Something occurs to me suddenly, and I raise my eyes to meet Derrick’s. He’s so close we could kiss again, if we were feeling stupid and desperate enough.

“Why didn’t you tell Silver who I was? You could’ve told him to use me as a hostage instead of bullying you.”

For what I realize is the very first time, Derrick shows me he’s angry about what I’ve said. His lip curls, his eyes bright like blue fire. “I’ve done a lot of terrible things to get where I am today,” he says, low and even. “But throwing a young woman to a bunchof street thugs who I can only assume mean her harm will never be one of them.” He leans closer, and his voice trembles with conviction. “I promise you, Raleigh. I don’t care who you are. I’m doing whatever I can to get you out of this alive.”

I never expected a two-faced politician like Derrick Lindman to have such a chivalrous streak. Clearly I struck a nerve, and I almost apologize for it- but then the sound of gunshots explodes in my ears.

I dive forward onto the floor, and I hear a thud that says Derrick’s also hit the deck. The door to our room is still closed, but there are multiple guns firing just outside. People scream- in pain, in fear- and I flash back to when I was fourteen and listening to my home burn down above my head while I cowered in a bunker. My heart freezes in my chest.

I have to hide, but the only thing in this room is the grubby mattress resting on a metal frame. Even if I crawled under there, it’s the first place anyone would look, and then I’d be trapped.

Derrick, crouched low, comes around the bed toward me. “Whatever happens, stay behind me,” he says, planting his body between me and the door. His back presses against my chest, and I grab onto him, forgetting his bruised ribs. He inhales hard, but doesn’t complain, and my limbs are too stiff with fear to let go anyway.

Outside the door, the gunshots are getting closer. They’ve become a wall of sound, pounding against my ears and making my bones tremble.

If I’m about to die right now, I have to say it.

“Thank you,” I gasp. I don’t even know if Derrick can hear me over the noise. Maybe he just feels my breath on his neck, because he turns his head to listen better. Into his ear I say, “Thanks- for making me feel safe.”

The gunfire stops.

Hurried footsteps start moving through the house. I hear two voices going back and forth with each other, but they’re quiet and muffled through the door. Someone moans, but is quickly cut off. Doors slam open.

Someone is going through the house, killing anything that makes a noise.

My breaths are so fast now I think I’m going to hyperventilate. Derrick reaches back to me, gripping my thigh hard.

“It’ll be okay-”

The door in front of us explodes off its hinges. I shriek, clinging to Derrick in a death grip.

A man stands on the other side, lowering his leg from the donkey kick that broke the door down. From beside him, a woman with platinum white hair, warm brown skin, and a gun rushes in- aiming directly at us.

As soon as she comprehends us, two people huddled against the wall of a dirty room, her barrel jerks up toward the ceiling.

I know her.

“Iris!” I scream.

I don’t remember moving, don’t remember tearing myself out of Derrick’s grip and running toward her. All I know is Iris’s arms enveloping me and her gasping my name with relief. She pulls away just enough to cradle my face in her hands and meet my eyes with her deep black ones. In this moment, I’ve never seen a more beautiful person.

“Are you hurt?” she demands, already looking me over herself. She spots bruises on my arms, takes in how pale and shaky I am in her arms. Her professional demeanor can’t hide her concern- or her fury.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay-” I keep repeating it, babbling helplessly. Iris tears off her crisp black blazer and drapes it overmy shoulders, bundling me up like a baby. It helps, but I’m still shaking.

“What the fuck is the sheriff doing here too?”

The rugged man, who I finally realize through my panicked haze is Paul Zakharov, Iris’s husband, stands over Derrick. The gun in his hand isn’t pointed directly at Derrick, but it would take a fraction of a second to aim, so Derrick remains in his spot on the floor.

“W-We were grabbed t-t-together,” I manage to say through teeth that are chattering. Iris rubs my shoulders and back hard, trying to fend off the panic rising in my chest. She must realize it can’t happen here, because she tells Paul,

“Bring him. We’ll sort this out at the estate.” She looks Derrick over, her long lashed eyes flicking over his body with predatory judgment. “Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Lindman?”

Derrick looks between Iris and Paul warily. He knows Iris personally as my brother’s right hand, and can’t be too happy that she’s his rescuer. But he shakes his head, probably realizing it doesn’t matter what he thinks anyway. Paul holds out a hand, the one without the gun, and Derrick accepts it, letting Paul pull him to his feet. Iris guides me out of the room- and I step into a hallway filled with bodies.

They’re all wearing nearly identical clothes to Silver and his two thugs. I can’t even tell if these men are one of the ones I’ve seen before.

I can’t even tell if one of them is Silver himself.

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