The Firefighter's Secret Baby

“Ma’am, where do you hurt?”

Randy stared at the way her hands were gripping her stomach. “Are you in labor? Can you hear me?” He resisted the urge to push deeper inside the car. Forcing a tenuous position would put his victim at more risk. But a mother in danger—nothing got to him faster.

And this one mother…

Something about her seemed familiar, even if he couldn’t put his finger on what. He scanned the parts of her body he could see, looking for anything he’d missed. Hair raised on the back of his neck.

His subconscious was trying to tell him something. What?

“Ah!” she cried, louder than before. “Help me…”

Randy’s trained gaze cataloged each potential injury. It tracked up her torso and arms and shoulders, over the ebony hair framing the face that was finally uncovered.

A lover’s face, not a stranger’s.

“Oh, my God. Sam?”

Dear Reader,

My letter in To Save a Family promised readers a firefighter story was in the works. For several ATLANTA HEROES novels, I’ve been teasing everyone, including myself, with glimpses of the hunky Montgomery brothers. I fell in love with this trio of rescue workers, and so have many of the fans who’ve written me. Now, the wait is over!

The youngest of the brothers, firefighter Randy Montgomery, loves his siblings, and he loves saving lives. But when a secret baby and an ex-lover on the run from the mob drop into Randy’s lap, his well-ordered world explodes. Sam Gianfraco is his match in every way, including her dark past and her distrust in happily-ever-afters. For the sake of their newborn daughter, can these soul mates follow their hearts and fight together, when life has taught them it’s safer to battle alone?

While you read The Firefighter’s Secret Baby, keep your eye out for future heroes. You’ll love Charlie Montgomery for how hard he fights to protect his baby brother—you haven’t seen the last of him, I promise. And there’s another recurring character refusing to sit on the sidelines…. Bet you can guess who’s lobbying the hardest to take the lead in my next Harlequin Superromance!

Until next time, dream big, love with your heart wide open, and love fearlessly.

Anna DeStefano

P.S. Let me know what you think of the ATLANTA HEROES stories at www.annawrites.com. And join the fun and fabulous giveaways at www.annawrites.com/blog!

The Firefighter’s Secret Baby

Anna DeStefano

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bestselling, award-winning author Anna DeStefano volunteers in the fields of grief recovery and crisis care. The rewards of walking with people through life’s difficulties are never ending, as are the insights Anna has gained into what is most beautiful about the human spirit. She sees heroes everywhere she looks now. The top life lesson she’s learned? Figure out what someone truly needs, become the one thing no one else could be for that person, and you’ll be a hero, too!

For exciting news about her other Harlequin titles and her paranormal romantic suspense series, visit Anna at www.annawrites.com.

To those who stand and fight.

To those who run toward danger,

so others may be free.

To those who put all they are on the line.

To the heroes.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER ONE

THUNDERSTORMS IN NOVEMBER?

Only in the south.

Sam peered through the greasy streaks her rental car’s wipers were making of the rain. She squinted at her rearview mirror. Were those the same headlights as before? Was she just imagining the danger bearing down on her?

Yes, Sam.

It’s been two years of constant fear, but you’re imagining it all now.

A stabbing pain gripped her stomach. She forced her attention back to the road. Who cared who might be following her? She was going to careen into a guardrail if she didn’t keep her eye on the road! She had to keep going. She had to get as far as she could before she tried to call her contact. Then everything would be okay. It had to be.

She was good at running, until the loneliness got too close. The hopelessness. Then she’d do something stupid. Something dangerous, because she needed to feel real for just a little while. She cradled her palm over the very real cramps in her belly.

Not anymore. Not after tonight. Once she made it through this, there would be no more risky chances. No more flirting with danger. Only playing it safe and protecting the lives that were depending on her.

She straightened her shoulders and tried to see through her rain-soaked windshield. Enough. What’s done was done. Running was her only shot now. Their only shot. She refused to believe they couldn’t make it.

“Whatever it takes,” she said to her unborn child. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

A film-noir-worthy bolt of lightning spotlighted where her latest risks had gotten her. The storm beat down on the car. Dark pines danced on either side of the interstate. Pain streaked through her body.

Her grip on the wheel tightened. Her tires lost traction for an eternal moment. Then they grabbed again.

“Focus, Sam,” she hissed.

She hated the panic and fear. No matter what she did, she couldn’t make them go away for good. But she would shove the darkness back. She wouldn’t let the hopelessness win tonight. She just had to make it a little bit farther.

Past Atlanta. Out of the state. She had to get somewhere less on-the-map. Then she’d contact her federal handlers and find a way to trust them for a while longer. Long enough to testify and cut all ties with everyone and everything from her past—everything but her kid sister and her unborn child.

Headlights rushed from behind. A vehicle swerved at breakneck speed, barely missing her back bumper. It passed on the shoulder. The truck careened in front of her, brake lights flashing. Its back end fishtailed. The 4x4’s mud flaps sprayed a wave of water, blinding her.

Sam screamed and hit the brakes. Her tires spun and slid. Her car crossed into the next lane. She pulled at the wheel to avoid another vehicle.

Impact came with a horrible jolt. Her seat belt caught. Her head bashed into her window, cracking the safety glass. Dazed, she yanked the wheel again. The car swerved in protest. Then it skidded into the concrete median.

Scraping.

Dragging.

Her driver’s door would be ripped away!

She fought for control. Blood trickled into her eyes. Pain ripped at her bulging stomach.

It’s not going to end this way.

I’m not going to let it end this way…

Life became a slow motion nightmare. The truck that had cut her off barreled into a minivan. The van swerved in a deadly arc, crashing into her. Her rental car spun like a top while she banked the wheel and shoved the brake pedal to the floor.

More headlights. More rain. More vehicles crashing.

Lightning and thunder.

Terror.

Pain.

Then she was flipping, rolling, over and over. Glass shattering, metal shredding and crushing, while she wrapped her arms around her baby and prayed the seat belt would protect her daughter.

The windshield collapsed inward. Ice-cold rain soaked her. Her world shrank to the pinpoints of light spiraling behind her closed eyelids.

It was forever before anything made sense again. She realized the car was still rocking. Teetering. Her door had become the car’s uncertain base.

Then she realized the pain was gone, too. The labor pains. She couldn’t feel the baby moving, and her daughter was always moving these days. There was nothing left but the roaring in her ears. Her arms and legs were growing numb.

Shock.

She was going into shock.

“Please,” she begged, praying for one more miracle. “Please, just give me one last chance….”

RANDY MONTGOMERY SCALED the pulverized wreck his team was securing. The air at the crash site vibrated with a frantic kind of calm while they prepared to crack the car with the Jaws of Life. The acrid smell of leaking fuel shimmered off everything Randy touched. His guys and several other teams responding to the multiple car pileup had doused the entire scene in fire retardant foam. But with this much petroleum in the mix, an errant spark could still set off a flash fire. It wasn’t the worst scene Randy had triaged, but it would do.

And there had been many others. He’d certified in accident recovery in the first class that opened after 9/11, moving from an engine company to rescue because he’d thought that’s where he could do the most good.

A faint, feminine groan whispered up from inside the vehicle.

He was point. His job was to triage and stabilize the victim for what promised to be a delicate extraction. Advanced life support would follow once his team had secured the vehicle.

“We have a live one,” he called to his crew. “Someone position that spotlight over here.”

Never lose a victim. It was Randy’s mantra. He wasn’t delusional enough to believe he had that kind of control. Still, he fought for every life with everything he had.

He reached through the slit that had once been the front passenger window—now the highest point of the rumpled vehicle. It would be his only view inside until a new one could be ripped open. He draped himself over the mangled mess of metal and fiberglass. There were razor-sharp edges to avoid. Possible weak spots. Stressing the wreck further could compromise the integrity of the safety cage. Randy let his instincts and years of experience guide him as he did his careful work of getting a visual on the victim.

Careful was his forte.

He stayed in control, no matter the crisis. Ice had been stenciled onto his helmet after he’d joined his first engine company, recognition of how hard he’d fought at every scene even as a newbie straight from the academy. His two older brothers, Chris and Charlie, whom he’d followed into fire and rescue, had given him the nickname. The moniker had stuck when Randy transferred to his rescue company.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t care about his victims. But as the go-to man on critical calls, emotion on the job wasn’t a luxury he indulged in. And off the job…He was the son of a brutal father and an abused mother. Emotional entanglements weren’t something he courted.

Levering as much of his body as he could through the sedan’s passenger window, he took a deep breath and shoved his wandering thoughts away. He owed whomever was inside his total focus.

“What do you see, man?” The floodlights had been repositioned at a more direct angle, illuminating the safety cage that was manufactured into all modern vehicles.

“One occupant.” He strained to see the still form huddled between the bent-back hood, what was left of the steering wheel, and the driver’s door.

The body was covered in voluminous, bloodstained material. White cotton. Arms and legs, neither noticeably broken. The victim was lying on her side. Seat belt clipped into place and still attached. Sandals. One still on, the other lying close enough for Randy to reach.

“It’s a woman.” He cleared the delicate shoe from the field, along with whatever debris he could, transferring them down to waiting hands.

From the size of the body curled in on itself, the victim appeared larger than average weight. Except large didn’t jibe with the slender ankles and calves and arms and wrists he could see better as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. She groaned and shifted, rolling off her side. The car objected, rocking against the stabilization his men had added from the outside.

“Hold still, miss.” Randy kept his voice reassuring. It was good that she could move. There wasn’t as much blood as he’d originally thought. But—“You could have a spinal injury. There’s glass and metal everywhere, and—”

She settled onto her back, still out of it, probably not hearing a word he said. But her protruding belly spoke loud and clear.

“Holy hell, she’s pregnant!” He stretched his arm as far inside as he could, but he couldn’t reach her. “Third trimester, if I had to guess.”

In response to his raised voice, the victim’s head gave an agitated jerk. Her features stayed hidden from him by a wealth of dark hair.

“Ma’am, where do you hurt?” He stared at the way her hands were gripping her stomach. “Are you in labor? Ma’am, can you hear me?”

Randy controlled the instinct to push deeper inside. Forcing a tenuous position would only put his victim at more risk. But a mother in danger—nothing got to Randy faster.

And this mother…

Something about her seemed familiar, even if he couldn’t put his finger on what. He fought the urge to rip his way into the wreck. He forced himself to scan the parts of her body he could see, looking for anything he’d missed. Hair raised on the back of his neck.

His subconscious was trying to tell him something.

What?

“Ah!” the woman cried out, louder than before. “Help me…”

Randy’s trained gaze catalogued each potential injury. It tracked up her torso and arms and shoulders, over the ebony hair framing the face that was finally uncovered.

A lover’s face, not a stranger’s.

“Oh, my God. Sam?” Randy’s focus jerked back to her swollen belly. He’d last seen her in his hotel-room bed in Savannah nine months ago…. “Oh, my God.”

CHAPTER TWO

SAM TRIED TO RUN. She wouldn’t give up. She had to keep fighting, even though a part of her knew that she couldn’t move. There was something precious she had to save. A miracle she wouldn’t let go of.

What was it…

And there was that voice again. The one from her dreams.

She’d run from the voice before, back to the U.S. marshal in charge of her protection. She’d pulled herself together and regrouped. Hidden the memories of her lover and her reckless weekend in Savannah, so she could start over. Again. But the voice…It was so close now. Which meant so was the danger. The men chasing her. Had they found her?

“Sam?” the voice asked. “Can you hear me?”

No! her mind screamed.

Her name wasn’t Sam anymore. Sam was being hunted. She couldn’t be found. Not even in her dreams.

What was her name now?

“Robyn…” she insisted. “I’m Robyn Nobles.”

Two years ago, Sam Gianfranco had left behind everything and everyone she knew. Even her baby sister. It had been the only way.

Except Sam had caved and called Gabriella that morning, before her security could tighten and she lost her chance. Her teenage sister had cried at the sound of Sam’s voice. She’d begged Sam to come home. Too bad Gabby hadn’t been the only one listening on the line.

They’d found Sam so quickly. One TV program. One phone call. One strange car parked outside her apartment…

Pain low in her belly jerked her away from the memories. Where was she? What had happened?

“My baby. Please, save my baby!”

“Sam?” the voice asked.

Her dreams had tormented her with that voice, night after night. She wanted Savannah back so badly. She wanted the precious life they’d created, more than she’d ever let herself want anything. She had to wake up! She had to keep fighting. Keep running.

“Get away from me,” she whispered, terrified.

“Try to relax,” the voice coaxed. “Trust me. We’ll help your baby. We’ll get you both out of this. Tell me where you hurt.”

“Leave me alone!”

She tried to make her eyes open. To move.

Pain sliced through her. Reality came into blurry focus. She was lying on what used to be the side of her car, pinned against the shattered window. Totally helpless. Except she’d be damned if she’d just give up. Not while she could feel her daughter moving inside her again, fighting to live.

“You bastards,” she gasped as another contraction took hold. “I won’t let you hurt my baby. I’ll kill you first.”

Rage cleared her vision. But what she saw as she gazed up convinced her that she was still delirious. Because the face looking down at her belonged in her dream. Her baby’s father was wearing a fire rescue uniform, not the metal band T-shirt he’d looked so sexy in on Savannah’s River Street.

Was it real? His voice. Her terrifying need to trust him…

“Hold still, baby,” he cautioned. “No one’s going to hurt you. But you’ve gotta hold still, for your and the baby’s sake.”

“It—” The next contraction cut her in two. So did the concern in his gaze. “This isn’t possible. You can’t be—”

“It’s me, sweetheart.” He flashed that bad-boy grin that had weakened her knees. There was worry there, too, and a world of questions swirling behind his forced confidence. “You sure know how to get a country boy’s attention.”

Then he winked, God help her. A surreal giggle escaped her chest. A croaking cough followed. The kind of cough that old people made when they only had a few breaths left.

Sam let the memories flood back. They were stronger than reality. Closer. Memories that reminded her how much she’d needed him over the last nine months. Memories of a strong, dark-haired man with deep brown eyes and a surprisingly gentle touch. Of how his playfulness had given way to a passion she couldn’t resist. Just like she couldn’t stop herself from gazing up at him now and clinging to the miracle of him being there.

“Sam?” that voice from her dreams said.

“Randy?”

“You may be hurt badly, baby.” The car shifted around her. Then the magic of his touch was smoothing across her cheek, down to the pulse beating a tantrum at the base of her throat. “You have to hold still until we can free you from this mess. Stay with me, Sam. Do you hear me? Sam? Damn it, answer me!”

“I…I’m here. My stomach…Ah!” She tried to draw her legs up against the next wave of cramps, but she couldn’t pull them close enough. “It hurts.”

“I know. You have to hold still until we can stabilize your entire body.” He pulled away. Yelled something toward the footsteps she could hear outside the car. Then his handsome face reappeared above her. His helmet was gone. His hair was tousled and matted with sweat, even though Sam was freezing from the cold night air. He inched his body back inside, a little closer this time. “Does anything else hurt besides your belly? Does it feel like your water’s broken?”

“How…”

How could Randy be there, exactly when she and her baby needed him most?

He’d asked her a question.

Where did it hurt?

Actually…

“I…I can’t feel much of anything again.” The next contraction was weaker than the last. “The baby’s not moving as much…”

“Just hang tight,” he said. “We’ll get you out of there.”

Despite his assurances, Randy’s voice had tightened. He was pushing even further into the unstable wreck.

“Help me,” she begged.

“What the hell are you doing, Montgomery?” someone demanded. “You trying to bring the whole damn thing down on top of us! We don’t have this mess secured. Back off!”

And that’s when Sam saw the truth in Randy’s eyes.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?” she asked. “Because I didn’t wait for my security. Because I panicked. They don’t know where I am, and…and it’s too late, anyway. But the baby—”

“Are you kidding me?” Randy flashed his killer grin again. “There’s no such thing as too late. Not on my watch. Losing you would ruin my rep. You’re not going to do that to me, are you? Keep talking until my guys can get me all the way in there, okay? Stay with me, Sam. Talk to me about something good. Tell me…Tell me about your baby.”

Her baby. The only reality that mattered now.

“It’s not just my baby…” Sam closed her eyes. The concern on Randy’s face, the shredded mess she’d made of the car. The memory of Gabby’s voice over the phone. It was all twisting together now. Pulling Sam in a million directions. Further away from Randy.

No!

Not until he promised.

She forced her eyes open. She had to see his face. She had to tell him.

“No matter what happens to me, take the baby,” she whispered. “Promise me you’ll protect her. Don’t let them hurt her….”

“Let who hurt her?”

Randy’s frown, the protectiveness behind his bewildered tone, pierced Sam’s heart.

“Who are you running from?” he asked over the growing racket outside the car. “Is that why you weren’t there when I woke up that morning? Tell me who’s got you so scared, Sam. Let me help you.”

This wasn’t about her. She had to make him understand.

“No! Our daughter.” Sam shook her head. She could hardly see him now. “This baby…she’s yours. Don’t tell anyone that you know. Don’t trust anyone. But you have to protect her, Randy. Promise me…Don’t let him destroy our baby, too….”

“CAREFUL!” There was nothing about being on the outside of an extraction, looking in, that Randy had ever liked. But waiting was his job, once he’d scouted the wreck and his team was in place. Getting out of the way and letting the other guys work was the best thing for a victim. Except this was no ordinary victim his men were fighting to free.

The last time—the only other time—he’d seen Sam, they’d slept together. Except what they’d shared went deeper. From the second he’d first seen her, he’d sensed she was different. Special. Now, nearly nine months later, she was pregnant and fighting for her life at an accident scene that was at the moment beyond Randy’s control.

The storm raged on around them. Rain was showing no sign of letting up. The hydraulic drive of the Jaws of Life made a deafening sound as it did its dirty work. The cutters had already sliced through the crumpled roof and the car’s dash. The guys were readying the spreader and ram, techniques for opening and lifting the interior of a vehicle enough to clear space for EMTs to get in. That was, if they didn’t bring the whole mess down on top of the woman who’d said she was carrying Randy’s baby.

The equipment started up again and the entire car shook. Randy felt the next crash in his bones.

“Careful!” he snarled.

“Easy, man,” Donaldson said beside him. He wiped his sleeve over his eyes to clear the rain splattering under the bridge of his helmet. “They got it under control.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Randy’s guys rocked. Each team member trusting the other was the key to saving a victim. Any delay he caused by distracting the other men could be the extra time the medical professionals needed to preserve life.

Except this was Sam.

Randy had to get to her. He had to talk to her. Ask her a million questions, especially about the baby.

She’s yours, too. Don’t tell anyone that you know. Don’t trust anyone…Protect her. Promise me.

What the hell had she meant, Don’t let him destroy our baby, too?

An Atlanta police officer trudged through the storm and toward the impending temper tantrum Randy was going to have if Sam wasn’t free in the next five minutes.

“Do we have an ID yet?” the officer asked.

APD’s first priority was to secure the scene and reroute traffic. Only then did they worry about who was involved in the accident itself.

“No,” Randy yelled over his team’s work. Had Sam really meant not to trust anyone? Even the police? “I didn’t get to anything personal while I triaged her. She’s delirious. Not making much sense. I’d recommend investigating the possibility she was run off the road. Sounds like there was another car involved.”