Margaret Daley - The Baby Rescue

A white truck trailed their SUV close, only feet from the bumper. Not good when the streets were icing over. Drivers should know better.

Colton’s hands tightened about the steering wheel, the hairs on his nape tingling. Something didn’t feel right about this. Nearing another stoplight, he reached for his cell phone to call the lead SUV when the Mustang came to an abrupt halt in front of him, forcing Colton to stomp on the brakes and skid to a stop, missing the car by inches.

The vehicle behind him plowed right into his bumper. The grinding crash of metal on metal filled his ears. The collision jarred his SUV and shoved it into the Mustang. In the side mirror, Colton saw a large man exit the truck and saunter toward him. Colton searched for the lead SUV, which was halfway down the street slowing down, but with the heavy traffic, changing directions wouldn’t be easy.

“The guy in the passenger’s side is getting out, too. He may have a gun under his coat,” Marshal Parker said, pushing Saunders down in the seat.

Wearing a cowboy hat pulled low, the man in the Mustang also jumped out of his car and headed toward the SUV, a thunderous expression carved into his features.

Trapped. A setup?

Colton assessed his chances, made a quick decision and threw his car in Reverse, shoving the truck back a few feet to give him room to maneuver around the Mustang. Then, slamming his car into Drive, he swerved to the left and hit the accelerator as much as he dared with the slick conditions. He left the three men standing in the road. One man stuck his hand in his coat pocket.

“Duck,” Colton shouted as he took the corner, tossing a glance in the direction of Josh’s car. It had finally made a U-turn and was heading back toward the scene. Colton sped away, not wanting to stick around to find out if a gun was in that man’s pocket.

“Everyone okay?” Colton asked as he braked slightly to take another corner ten miles per hour too fast for icy roads. The back of the SUV swerved from one side to the other, but Colton righted it and increased his speed as much as he could afford to.

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Twenty-five minutes to get to the plane.

“No, I’m not okay. What if I had been shot? Not to mention the possibility of whiplash. This isn’t keeping me safe. If you two can’t keep—” Saunders yelled.

“We’re fine back here.” Parker’s calm voice cut into Saunders’s tirade.

Keeping his gaze swiveling between the road and his rearview mirror, Colton fumbled for the phone button in the SUV and speed-dialed the other marshals in the lead vehicle. “I’m taking a different route to the bridge. Take care of those guys. I’ll get Saunders to the airport,” he told Josh McCall.

“I’ve called for support. A police car isn’t far away. When they come, I’ll catch up with you.”

That might or might not happen. He was on his own as far as Colton was concerned. “Was that little accident planned? Do they have guns?”

“Don’t know. They’re angry and so are the other motorists around them. Traffic is backing up. I’ll call you after this is straightened out. How are you going?”

Colton gave Josh another route he’d mapped out in his mind in case something didn’t feel right. He always had a backup plan. “If they’re after Saunders, how did they know about this transport from the safe house? How did they even know he was in custody?”

“Don’t know, but believe me, we’ll be looking into it. Keep to the plan. Don’t go off doing your own thing.” Steel thread ran through Josh’s voice—a man whom Colton had butted heads with over how this case should be handled in the short time Colton had been in St. Louis. Since Josh’s partner had been killed recently, Colton thought he was afraid to take a risk. It was just as well that Colton’s only business there was to transport Saunders to Denver. Actually, Colton had come up with several different ways to get to the airport. Up ahead the stalled traffic forced him to swing his vehicle down a side street and take another direction than what he’d told Josh. Until he knew what was going on, he had to think the worst: those guys in the white truck and Mustang were gunning for Don Saunders.

“This ain’t the way you told him.” Saunders hugged the door as though trying to get out.

“Worried your boss got wind of your change of allegiance even with all our precautions?” Colton couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice, glad the specialized lock made it impossible for the man to dive out of the SUV.

“No. Unless you guys told him.” Saunders threw a glare at Colton, then Parker.

Saunders was being transported to Denver because one of the pieces of information he told them was that he was supposed to meet a contact there involved in the smuggling ring. He wouldn’t say anything else about it until he was out of St. Louis. If anyone got wind of Saunders being in custody, he wouldn’t be able to meet the contact in Denver.

Colton took another turn, pushing the SUV as fast as he could safely go if no one suddenly stopped in front of him. “Nope. Kinda hard to tell him anything when we don’t know who he is. But remember this deal goes away if you don’t keep your end of the bargain.”

Saunders snorted. “Please. Quit trying to be the big, tough marshal. I know what’s at stake here.”

“This big, tough marshal will be in charge of your detail in Denver, responsible for your safety. So play nice.”

Parker chuckled. “Yep, you only get to see our pretty mugs for your stay in the Mile High City.”

Saunders muttered something under his breath and twisted toward the side window.

Was he watching for the Mustang or white truck? Had he somehow alerted a colleague he was being moved to Denver? Or did the criminals he was going to rat on know he was in the U.S. Marshals’ custody? If so, how? His arrest had been kept quiet. As far as the world and Saunders’s colleagues knew, he had gotten away from the law enforcement team in the warehouse. But if that accident had been deliberately caused, the ruse might not have worked. Colton checked his surroundings as he weaved his way through the small side streets of St. Louis toward the downtown airport. So far no Mustang or white truck was on his tail. They weren’t far away now from their destination, but Colton knew better than to let up on his vigilance. From the times he had worked with Marshal Parker in Denver, he knew Parker was good, but Colton never trusted anyone totally with his life. He’d seen too much to.

As he fell into the flow of the traffic on the Poplar Street Bridge over the Mississippi River, he ground his teeth together. The small jet the U.S. Marshals used to transport witnesses wasn’t flying out of the main St. Louis airport, which he prayed would help his chances to get Saunders to the plane without further incident before the big ice and snow storm hit St. Louis full force.

But if someone was watching the four bridges over the river near St. Louis, he could be driving into a trap. No amount of zigzagging through the streets of the city would change the fact that there were ultimately only a few ways to the airport on the Illinois side of the Mississippi. That was if they knew they weren’t using the Lambert–St. Louis International Airport.

In the rearview mirror he caught sight of the top of a white truck back five cars. Could it be the same one that had smashed into his SUV? He couldn’t take the chance. Pushing his foot down on the accelerator, he changed lanes as he neared the Illinois side of the river.

“We may have a tail,” Colton told Parker.

The other marshal pushed Saunders down again, but not without grumbling from the witness. Some people didn’t appreciate the efforts the U.S. Marshals Service went through to protect them.