Page 62 of Protecting the Newborn

Ruston felt the slam of fear. The fresh adrenaline. The need to get to Gracelyn now, now, now. If the bullet had hit her, she hadn’t gone down. She was still running, and he quickly ate up the distance between them. Ruston immediately took hold of her and dragged her to the ground.

Just as another shot slammed into the dirt a few feet from them.

Ruston followed the direction of the shot and saw the gunman. He had his gas mask shoved up on his head, giving Ruston a look at his face. He didn’t recognize him, which meant this was a hired gun.

The thug was trying to take aim while he was running. That was probably why he’d missed with the other two shots. That wouldn’t last, though. He’d soon stop, and then Gracelyn and he would be way too easy targets.

“Stay down and let’s move,” Ruston instructed. He wanted to pull her into his arms, wanted to tell her...so many things. But that was going to have to wait. Maybe he’d get the chance to say those things when this was over.

A third shot came. And a fourth. All too close but still thankfully not hitting the intended mark.

The moment Ruston reached the ditch, he dropped down into it with Gracelyn. It was about three feet deep, so they crouched down, but Ruston knew they couldn’t stay this way. The gunman would almost certainly be coming for them, and if he managed to approach at the right angle, Gracelyn and he wouldn’t be able to see the guy until it was too late.

Ruston quickly took out his small pocketknife so he could cut the cuffs from Gracelyn’s wrists. It twisted away at him to see that blood on her forehead, but she didn’t seem to be in pain. Like him, she was firing glances at the rim of the ditch, watching for the gunman.

The second he’d removed the cuffs, he took out his backup weapon and handed it to her. Then he peered over the top of the ditch. He braced for a shot to be fired at him. But it didn’t come.

And the gunman was nowhere in sight.

Hell.

Where had he gone? There were some wild shrubs, and he could have ducked behind one of those. It was too much to hope that he’d just run off.

He saw some movement from a high patch of grass that was about five yards away, and Ruston turned in that direction so he could take aim. And he waited. Watched. Listened. Knowing that Gracelyn was doing the same thing.

There was a soft clicking sound, and he was pretty sure it came from the same grassy area. Moments later, a cloud of white smoke spewed out into the air.

More tear gas.

It wouldn’t have the same potent effect as it had inside the hospital, but it could be just as dangerous, considering it was coming right at Gracelyn and him. Once the gas got to their eyes and throats, they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves.

“Stay low and move down the ditch,” Ruston whispered.

There was a huge disadvantage to that since the thug would be behind him. He’d no doubt be wearing a mask and could use the cloud of gas to conceal himself until he was right on them.

They moved, not as fast as he wanted, but Gracelyn and he scrambled away from the gas. But even over their movements, he heard another of those clicks. Heard the canister drop into the ditch.

And more tear gas came their way.

The moment the gas hit him, Ruston was right back where he’d been at the hospital. Coughing. Eyes burning. No way to fight back. Gracelyn was ahead of him, and she thankfully kept moving. Ruston tried to do that, too, but he heard another sound. Not the click of a canister being triggered.

The thud of someone dropping down into the ditch behind him.

Before Ruston could even turn, there was more movement. And he felt the barrel of a gun press against the back of his head.

“Cooperate,” the man snarled, “or I shoot your woman in the back.”

GRACELYNKEPTMOVING. Her eyes were stinging, but she thought she was staying just ahead of the worst of the gas. It wasn’t a thick cloud but more of a mist. Added to that, the night breeze was dispersing what there was of it. If Ruston and she could just make it a few more feet, they wouldn’t get the worst of it and would be able to defend themselves.

She glanced behind her.

And her heart stopped. It certainly felt like it, anyway.

She saw Ruston, not crouching. He was standing now, and not by choice either. There was a man wearing a gas mask behind him, and he was holding Ruston at gunpoint.

“You both throw down your guns,” the guy in the gas mask ordered.

Ruston was coughing, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been during the other attack. Gracelyn just wished she could better see Ruston’s eyes so she could tell if he’d been hurt. But her own eyes were still stinging, and the moonlight was creating plenty of shadows on his face.

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