Sharon Dunn - Thanksgiving Protector

They hurried past abandoned buildings and others painted with colorful murals depicting scenes from the Bible and famous Mexicans.

A man jumped out in front of them, his eyes wide and round.

Austin stepped between the man and Kylie, squaring his shoulders and offering his move-it-along look, furled eyebrows, chest out, hand hovering over his weapon.

The man hung his head and stumbled away into the darkness.

More people appeared in doorways as they drew near to a paved street. Because they were law enforcement, they were viewed with suspicion in a neighborhood so close to the border. It made them vulnerable to attack. Them...and the precious cargo in Kylie’s arms.

Guilt gripped his chest. He didn’t like the idea of putting the baby in so much danger. They would have been okay if they could’ve jumped in the car and left the neighborhood quickly.

The dirt road turned into pavement again. The orange glow of lights increased as did the traffic whizzing by on the streets.

Kylie’s gaze darted everywhere looking for threats as she held the baby close to her chest.

Austin put his phone away. “Brent, one of the other rangers, will meet us on South Mesa Street,” Austin said. “We only have to walk a few more blocks.”

“Right now that feels like a million miles.” Though she spoke in an even tone, Austin picked up on the terror threaded through her words.

He put his hand on her elbow. “Just keep moving.”

He appreciated that Kylie seemed to have nerves of steel even if she might be afraid on the inside. He felt it too. It was unsettling thinking about the bad things that might happen to the baby and to them.

“It’s not that much farther,” he said, hoping to sound reassuring.

A car squealed its brakes. Both of them instinctively jumped a little closer to the brick building—not that it would provide any protection. There was no safe zone here. People could come at them from the street. Men could bring a car up to the curb and snatch them. Someone could shoot them from a distant building.

The shots back at the apartment building bothered him most of all. He was sure they’d been targeted deliberately, but why? Was it just because they were law enforcement?

Under normal circumstances, this would have been exciting, but not with the baby to think about. Why had Kylie agreed to such a crazy thing? Raising a kid by herself. He had to admire the size of her heart, but still. She was a border patrol agent, which meant long crazy hours. Had she really thought this thing through?

He could see the lights of a busy thoroughfare up ahead. “Brent should be waiting there for us. Just up ahead.”

He hoped his words helped calm Kylie. If she was tense, Mercedes might pick up on it and get upset. Or were babies not that perceptive? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know anything about babies or families.

Austin had never known his biological father, and his childhood hadn’t offered many decent examples. He’d been four when his older sister died in a car accident. His mother, overwhelmed with guilt because she’d been driving, developed a drinking problem that caused them to move often. Unless he counted the string of violent boyfriends his mother attached herself to—the best of which ignored him, and the worst of which were actively cruel to him—he had no frame of reference for what it meant to be a dad or a husband.

Gunshots sounded behind them. More squealing tires. More racing cars. He heard a car with a loud motor zoom up behind them. The owner revved the engine.

Austin wrapped an arm around Kylie and the baby and pulled them toward the shadows of the building.

Men got out of the car and paced the street. Some were shirtless, revealing gang tattoos and the guns shoved into their waistbands. Austin didn’t bother looking around to see if there was anyone he could appeal to for help.

If any violence erupted in this neighborhood, the people around here would just look the other way.

Mercedes cried. Kylie shushed her and bounced a little.

One of the men stepped toward Kylie and Austin, fixating on the baby.

“Ah, gringo, you have a niña bonita with you.” He tilted his head as his voice filled with menace. “Out here in the cold night.”

“We don’t want any trouble.” But despite his words, Austin was looking for an opening to land a good punch. So much of fighting was about psychology—especially with a group like this. If Austin seemed weak, they’d fall on him like vultures. But if he seemed strong, he and Kylie might be all right. Sizing up his opponent, Austin decided he could handle this guy.

The man looked down his nose at them and narrowed his eyes in a threatening way.

Austin landed a single blow to the man’s stomach that doubled him over. The other men took several steps back, raising their hands in a surrender motion as Austin directed Kylie and the baby back toward the edge of the sidewalk.

“Well, that takes care of that.” A note of amusement danced through Kylie’s words as they hurried along.

“Sometimes quick and clean is best. We don’t have time to play diplomat with thugs. We need to get this kid to a safe place.”

Kylie stopped and looked Austin directly in the eyes. “Yes, we do.”

Maybe it was just the light, but he thought he saw admiration, maybe even affection, in her eyes. He kept walking. Yeah, it was probably just the way the light was hitting her face. Someone like Kylie wouldn’t be interested in someone like him. She probably had Thanksgiving with twenty relatives around and lots of laughter. He spent his holidays at the retirement home with the former cop who had been his saving grace. Robert Wilson had been his parole officer when he was fourteen and in trouble. Old Bob had seen a potential in Austin that he hadn’t seen in himself. Since his mother’s death, Old Bob was the closest thing to family Austin had.

He shook his head. Why was he even entertaining thoughts about Kylie?

Kylie looked up at him. “Why are you shaking your head?”

“No reason.” His cheeks flushed with heat.

“Talking to yourself because it’s the only time you can have an intelligent conversation?”

He laughed. “Yes, that must be it.”

He had no idea she had such a great sense of humor. Chalk it up to the tense situation. Just one of those things you learn by helping someone rescue a baby out of a bad neighborhood.

Kylie bounced the baby. She pressed her lips together as she looked up ahead. “Where is he? Where is Brent?”

Austin scanned the street. “He’ll get here as fast as he can.”

Another car with music pounding eased past them. The back window rolled down and one of the gang members sneered at them, forming his finger into a gun and pointing it at him. The car sped up as the gang member rolled up the tinted window.

Austin’s chest squeezed tight as though it were in a vise. They could not stand around waiting for long.

Up ahead he saw one of the ranger vehicles park along the curb. Brent McCord got out and leaned against it, offering them a quick nod of recognition. They were safe.

Austin glanced over beside him to the auburn-haired woman and her blanketed bundle. Tension knotted at the back of his neck. Maybe the shots at the apartment building had not been personal and had been aimed at them only because of their uniforms. He hoped that was the case. The other possibility was far too worrying.

Garcia’s contacts were abundant on both the American and Mexican side of the border. If Garcia wanted them dead, he would see to it they were taken out.

FOUR

Kylie could feel the fatigue settle into her muscles as she and Austin rode horses through a remote part of the desert. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of getting Mercedes settled in and starting the legal process for adoption. Kylie’s neighbor, an older woman named Gloria Espina who she’d known for years, agreed to watch the baby for now. Kylie had put in a request to be moved to more monitoring work once the Garcia mission was complete. The risk to her well-being in that position would be much lower than going out on patrol.