The Littlest Target. Maggie K. Black

couldn’t reach between his shoulder blades.

      He ran his hand over the back of his neck, feeling the telltale curl that told him that his dark shaggy hair was overdue for another haircut. He chuckled. He might technically be off shift, but when he left the conference, he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his uniform into civvies.

      There’s supposed to be more to life than work, Max. A voice floated in the back of his mind. It sounded suspiciously like his dad’s new favorite topic. You don’t want to look up from work one day and realize you haven’t actually lived.

      But why not? He argued back against the voice. And what qualified as living? Time off? A family? A white picket fence? A beautiful wife? A life spent speeding to accident scenes and leaping out of helicopters to save countless lives was hardly a waste.

      Besides, it was all Trent’s fault for putting these thoughts in their folks’ heads. For as long as he could remember, the four Henry brothers had an unspoken pact to remain bachelors for life. Jacob, Nick and Max had all stuck to the deal.

      Then his detective brother had the audacity to bring fellow detective Chloe home at Christmas. The next thing they knew, the couple’s engagement cover story was the real deal—sweet romance and all.

      Something rumbled behind him. His green eyes narrowed as he looked in the rearview mirror. The sports car behind him was gaining on him too quickly.

      His lips set in a grim line and for a moment, he felt tempted to switch on his emergency lights just to slow them down. There was nothing worse than a reckless driver. Usually just the sight of an emergency vehicle on the road would be enough to make even the worst driver reduce speed. But either the sports car driver hadn’t seen him or was in too big of a hurry to care. He nudged his truck over to the side of the road.

      The sports car passed. Max turned and his eyes met the driver’s for barely an instant. Then she sped away and was gone, leaving the afterimage of the brief glimpse he’d got of her in the glow of the dashboard lights seared on his mind.

      It had been a woman. She’d been in her early twenties, he guessed, with long blond hair, huge eyes, a slender frame and a tight grip on the steering wheel. Questions as to what her story was filled his mind as he watched her taillights speed away ahead of him. She had looked terrified and determined, and there’d been something captivating about her that he couldn’t put into words.

      Then the telltale flicker of blue and white lights flashed in his rearview mirror. A sedan sped up behind him now—dark, plain and unmarked except for the LED flights flashing through the windshield. Well, whoever she was, she wouldn’t get far with that unmarked police car on her tail.

      He slowed his rapid-response vehicle to let the police car pass. It didn’t even signal. Instead, it whipped around so close it would’ve clipped him if Max hadn’t swerved.

      A prayer for God’s mercy thudded in Max’s rib cage. A police officer should know better than to drive like that. Yet he watched, helpless and almost incredulous, as the unmarked car sped toward the blonde in the sports car. It nudged closer and closer to her, until it was tailgating dangerously. Cop or not, anyone driving that dangerously at speeds like that was flirting with disaster.

      Then it happened, with a crunch of metal and a screech of tires. The unmarked police vehicle clipped the sports car. Max’s heart lurched as he watched the blonde’s vehicle spin. She was going to crash, right there in front of him, and all he could do was pray and try to steer his way clear.

      He yanked the wheel hard to the right, pressing down on the brake as much as he dared without risking locking the brakes. Gravel sprayed beneath his tires. Trees spun past the windshield. From somewhere beyond him, he heard an agonizing screech of metal reverberating through the morning air. The sports car had smashed into something.

      God, keep me from crashing into her!

      The rapid-response truck slammed to a stop and he felt the back corner hit a rock with the kind of crunch that had him guessing he’d be looking at a new bumper and a little bit of bodywork when he got back home.

      He looked up through the windshield. The sports car wasn’t as well-off. The front end was embedded in a thick pine tree and the airbag had deployed. He just hoped the driver was all right.

      No signal on his cell phone. He grabbed his CB radio and clipped it to his shoulder, ready to call in backup the second he assessed the scene and coordinated with the lead officer. As first on the scene, it was the cop’s job to make the call.

      Max grabbed the bright red jump bag that held all his basic medical necessities, slung it over his shoulder and ran toward the accident. The police car had stopped. In the dim headlights, he watched as a large man with a bald head ran toward the sports car, reached it first and yanked the driver’s door open.

      “My name is Max Henry, and I’m an Ontario paramedic!” Max shouted. “Stay back and let me assess injuries!”

      The man didn’t even turn. Instead he reached into the car, grabbed the driver and pulled her out. She screamed. The man threw her to the ground and forced her down onto her knees. A baby’s wail filled the air. Max’s heart stopped. There was an infant in the car!

      “Get back in your truck and let me handle this!” the bald man thundered at him. “This woman is a dangerous criminal and I’m taking her into custody for murder and kidnapping!”

      “He’s lying!” the blonde yelled. Her accent was British, the kind that made him think of royalty and the Tower of London. She was kneeling down on the ground with one palm pressed into the pavement. Strength battled the vulnerability in her face. But it was the defiance in her eyes that made his breath catch.

      The wail of the baby grew louder. Max listened carefully. It was the strong and hearty yell of an infant who was several months old, and definitely a howl of anger, rather than a whimper of pain or distress. Thankfully.

      Max raised his hands and took a step forward. “Please, Officer, I’m not trying to get in your way, just let me make sure the baby and driver are both okay.”

      “Max, listen to me!” The sound of his name on the young woman’s lips seemed to shake something inside his chest. “I’m not kidnapping this baby, and I didn’t kill anyone. I promise. I’m his nanny. This man’s name is Smith. He’s not a cop. He’s a killer. He murdered the baby’s stepmother—”

      Her words were swallowed up in a cry as Smith cuffed her hard on the back of her head. Max’s jaw set. This stopped here and now.

      “Step away from her with your hands up!” Max shouted. “If you really are a cop, I demand you show me your badge, although I’m pretty sure that despite the pretty flashing police lights on the car, which I now presume you’ve stolen, you don’t have one.” He grabbed the CB radio from his shoulder. “I’m calling this in.”

      Smith reached around his back. A Glock flashed in his hands so quickly Max barely had time to process what had happened. But there it was, with its barrel focused on Max’s face.

      “Drop the radio and get down on the ground now,” Smith ordered. “Hands behind your head. Or I will shoot you where you stand.”

       TWO

      Max froze. Okay, Lord, now what do I do? He’d faced more than his fair share of criminals without the benefit of a weapon or bulletproof vest. In fact, he’d just finished telling an auditorium full of fresh-faced university students that paramedics were attacked and injured more often than those in any other lifesaving career, and that he’d personally taken more blows to the jaw, punches, kicks and attempted stabbings than he liked to remember. But a bullet? This would be a first.

      “I said, let her go.” Max’s voice rose. Gun or not, there was no way he was backing down now. “I will not let you hurt them.”

      Even if it meant fighting to his dying breath. The nanny’s right hand darted behind her back. Smith