Page 70 of My Secret Santa Clayton

“Okay, just hold on,” I said. There were things to do, decisions to make. I wheeled around, my boots crunching on the frosted ground, and faced the truck. Fuck…the hood was up and steam hissed from the engine.

“Can you drive?” I asked, my voice steady as I searched for options.

She shook her head, wincing with another contraction. “Not anymore,” she said. “I tried to get there, but…fuck!This is happening…”

“Alright, I'll take you to the hospital,” I said, reaching for her arm to help her up.

She pulled away, her eyes fierce. “No, Clay. You have to find Grace!”

“She’s still alive?”

“Last I saw her, yeah. But you need to hurry.” She doubled over again, pain etched on her face.

“Mariah, you can't stay here. It's freezing, and?—”

“I'll have this baby right here in the snow if I have to, but my kid needs her aunt. Go!”

I stood there, the cold biting into my skin, Mariah's pained moans filling the silence of the snow-covered roadside. I had to make a decision—fast.

But then I saw it, the red and blue lights flickering through the trees, painting the white snow in their urgent glow.

My saving grace.

“Over here!” I shouted, waving my arms frantically as the cruiser approached, tires crunching over the frosty gravel.

The car skidded to a stop, and Chris Langley jumped out. “Clay, what the hell is happening?”

“Mariah's in labor,” I said, gesturing to where she leaned against her battered truck. “She needs a hospital. Now.”

Chris's eyes widened as he took in the scene—the downed man behind me, the steam rising from the dead engine, Mariah clutching at her belly. He nodded once, already moving towards her.

“Let's get you to safety,” he said, taking charge as he helped her towards the backseat of his patrol car.

“Chris, I need to go to Grace,” I said, my voice firm.

“I should be the one to go,” Chris countered, his hand resting on his duty belt. “I can start a negotiation with whoever's doing this.”

I shook my head. “No, I have to do this.” I looked him straight in the eyes. His stance was firm, like he was about to pull rank on me.

For a tense second, we just stood there, snow falling around us, each man measuring the other.

Then, something shifted in his expression.

“Alright,” Chris finally said, breaking the silence. He glanced back at Mariah, who cradled her stomach and breathed through another contraction. “I'll take her to the hospital.”

“Thank you,” I replied, my throat tight.

“Good luck, Clay,” he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder before turning to help Mariah into the cruiser.

Okay…so I was alone in this.

Maybe that was best.

Because I wasn’t going to wait for justice; I was going to kill whoever had hurt Grace.

THIRTY-THREE

Grace

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