“Sounds like you’ve led an interesting life,” Tyrone observed as the doors opened once more.
Rhys held out a hand to keep the elevator doors open and bowed with a courtly gesture for the others to exit first.
“Aye, I hae indeed,” he told Tyrone as he passed. “There was this other ti—”
A sharp jab in his ribs checked him and Rhys grinned down at Scarlett with an innocent waggle of his brows. “What?”
Stop that, she mouthed with a stern frown behind Tyrone’s back. Rhys couldn’t help but laugh aloud and Emmy and Claire joined in.
“Where’s Jack today?” Scarlett asked as they walked down the hall.
“I left him a vocalized missive aboot where we are,” he answered, allowing her to change the subject. “And invited him to meet wi’ us…”
The words trailed off as Rhys spied a man standing inside the open door of the neonatal nursery. Not in the usual garb of the hospital staff. A blue suit jacket hung on his narrow shoulders. Then he extended his arm. A gun in his hand.
Pointed toward the rows of incubators.
Toward his niece.
“Nay!” the raw protest ripped from his throat.
His shoulder was yanked down as Claire latched on to him. “Oh my God, it’s Jameson!”
The man turned his head to look at them and bewilderment clouded Rhys’s thoughts until Scarlett’s gut-wrenching cry slapped him back into the moment.
“My baby!”
Jameson swung the gun toward them.
“What the hell?” Tyrone yelled and threw his weight against Scarlett, knocking her and Hermione to the ground.
“Down!” Rhys shouted, as a shot rang out.
He shoved Claire and Emmy through an open door and drew his dagger. Pitiful defense against an armed man, but rage propelled him down the hall. Jameson turned back toward the nursery.
“My baby! No!”
Scarlett’s panicked scream echoed through his mind, or mayhap she repeated it over and over. He couldn’t fail her in her moment of need. Rhys picked up speed and threw his shoulder into Jameson’s back just as the pistol fired again. Momentum pitched Rhys to the side. He regained his footing and arced his blade toward Jameson’s throat. Jameson fired again.
Pain tore through his shoulder, but it only infuriated Rhys more. He charged again, but Jameson was already running down the hall toward the women.
The coward!
Staggering after him, Rhys saw the elevator doors part at the end of the hall. Hugh looked up, shock written on his face. He had no time to react before Jameson sent a bullet hurling his way.
Claire screamed his name and tried to run to him, but Emmy pulled her back. Jameson skidded to a halt, quick looks behind and before him proving a mere plug of lead wouldn’t stop a true Scot. Blood seeped from a cut under Jameson’s jaw, however Rhys knew it wasn’t a deathblow he’d dealt. Another wild shot hummed over his head but he wouldn’t be stopped until he ripped the bastard’s head from his shoulders.
Where was everyone? The doctors? Nurses? Down the halls, heads were popping out of all the rooms now. Jameson must not have shot the gun before they had arrived. The thought sent a shaft of relief through Rhys.
Two uniformed hospital employees were sprinting down the adjacent hall toward them from one direction, several more from another. Someone must have sounded the alarm. Jameson’s escape routes were limited. Rhys and Hugh had their foe between them, they had only to take him down. But also between them was Scarlett, crouched over Hermione protectively. Tyrone lay still and motionless beside them.
Jameson saw the opportunity the same moment it registered to Rhys. Unfortunately, the bastard was closer than he.
“Nay!” he roared.
Jameson yanked Hermione out of Scarlett’s arms. Scarlett leapt up like a tigress to fight him, her claws bared. She tore at him, but Jameson bucked her off and kicked her in the ribs. She slammed back against the wall.
Hermione wailed, terrified by the man. By his violence. Her wide brown eyes rounded with fear. “Mummy!”
All of it in the space of a heartbeat while Rhys raced to stop him from one direction and Hugh from the other. Trapped between them, Jameson canted to the side and through a stairwell door.
“I got him!” Hugh yelled, before the door banged shut. A bead of blood dripped down his temple. “Call the others. Take care of the women.”
With a grim nod, Rhys clutched his shoulder and caught Scarlett around the waist as she tried to run after Hugh.
“Let me go, let me go!” Her frantic screams burst in his ear. Her fists connected with his chest, her feet with his shins as she tried to escape his hold. “Hermione!” The desolate cry shook the walls, blending with the urgent bellows of hospital personnel as people crowded the halls.
“Nay, Scarlett,” he shouted. “See to yer bairn. Let Hugh take care of Jameson.”
All the fight went out of her, but she didn’t move. Her eyes darted between the door before her and the nursery at the end of the hall. Torn between her children.
“See to yer bairn, Scar. Now.”
The forceful command jogged her into motion. She ran to the intensive care unit as he followed behind.
At the door, Scarlett came up short with a shriek of alarm. “Willa!”
The nurse was sprawled on the floor, blood oozing from the back of her head. Another woman in scrubs was slumped beside her.
“Help her, Rhys!”
Rhys fell to his knees alongside the woman, welcoming Scarlett’s gratified cry as she found her bairn unharmed. The heaving, emotional sobs that followed roused an answering ache in his heart. Never had he known such all-encompassing terror.
Never had he been so close to losing those he loved most in the world. Hermione’s life was in danger still.
Holding a hand in front of
