you need help getting undressed?”
Penny glared at both of them. “Get out.”
Before she left, Rachel instructed, “Leave the door unlocked so we can respond if you need help.”
With Penny disarmed and bathing, Rachel turned to Cole. “I need fresh bedding and something comfortable for her to wear. It’d be nice to have some soft music.”
“None of these procedures are medical,” he said.
She leaned toward him and lowered her voice so Penny couldn’t hear from the bathroom. “If I’d come in here and wrenched her knees apart for a vaginal exam, she would’ve blown my head off.”
He blinked. His eyes were the only part of his face visible. “I guess you know what you’re doing.”
“In the back of my van, there are three cases and an oxygen tank. Bring all the equipment in here.” She stripped the sheets off the bed. “And you can start boiling water.”
“Hot water? Like in the frontier movies?”
“It’s for tea,” she said. “Raspberry leaf tea.”
Instead of leaving her alone in the bedroom, he opened the door and barked orders. She tried to see beyond him, to figure out how many others were in the house. Not that it mattered. Even if Rachel could escape, she wouldn’t leave Penny until she knew mother and baby were safe.
She went to the bathroom and opened the door a crack. “Penny, are you all right?”
Grudgingly, she said, “The water feels good.”
“Some women choose to give birth in the tub.”
“Naked? Forget it.” Her tone had shifted from maniacal to something resembling cooperation. “Is there something else I should do? Some kind of exercise?”
Her change in attitude boded well. A woman in labor needed to be able to trust the people around her. Giving birth wasn’t a battle; it was a process.
“Relax,” Rachel said. “Take your time. Wash your hair.”
In the bedroom, Cole thrust the fresh sheets toward her. “Here you go.”
“Would you help me make the bed?”
He went to the opposite side and unfolded the fitted bottom sheet of soft lavender cotton. He’d taken off his jacket and was wearing an untucked flannel shirt over a long-sleeved white thermal undershirt and jeans with splotches of blood on the thigh.
She pulled the sheet toward her side of the bed. “We’re probably going to be here for hours. You might as well take off that stupid mask.”
He straightened to his full height—a couple of inches over six feet—and stared for a moment before he peeled off the black knit mask and ran his fingers through his shaggy, brown hair.
Some women would have considered him handsome with his high cheekbones, firm chin and deep-set eyes of cognac brown. His jaw was rough with stubble that looked almost fashionable, and his smile was dazzling. “You’re staring, Rachel. Memorizing my face?”
“Don’t need to,” she shot back. “I’m sure there are plenty of pictures of you on ‘Wanted’ posters.”
“I said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Apart from kidnapping me?”
“I won’t apologize for that. Penny needs you.”
Rather than answering her challenge, he had appealed to her better instincts. Cole was smooth, all right. Probably a con man as well as a robber. Unfortunately, she had a bad habit of falling for dangerous men. Not this time.
“Don’t bother being charming,” she said. “I’m going to need your help with Penny, but I don’t like you, Cole. I don’t trust a single word that comes out of your mouth.”
He grinned. “You think I’m charming.”
Jerk! As she smoothed the sheets, she asked, “Which one of the men out there is the father of Penny’s baby?”
“None of us.”
Of course not. That would be too easy. “Can he be reached?”
“We’re not on vacation here. This is a hideout. We don’t need to invite visitors.”
But this was a nice house—not a shack in the woods. Finding this supposed “hideout” that happened to be conveniently vacant was too much of a coincidence. “You must have planned to come here.”
“Hell, no. We were supposed to be in Salt Lake City by now. When Penny went into labor, we had to stop. The house belongs to someone she knows.”
The fact that Penny had contacts in this area might come in handy. Rachel needed to keep her ears and eyes open, to gather every bit of information that she could. There was no telling what might be useful.
By the time Penny got out of the tub, Rachel had transformed the bedroom into a clean, inviting space using supplies from her van. The bedding was fresh. A healing fragrance of eucalyptus and pine wafted from an herbal scent diffuser. Native American flute music rose from a CD player.
Before Penny got into bed, Rachel replaced the dressings on her leg wound, using an antiseptic salve to ease the pain. In her work as a nurse-midwife, she leavened various herbal and homeopathic methods with standard medical procedure. Basically, she did whatever worked.
Though Penny remained diffident, she looked young and vulnerable with the makeup washed off her face. Mostly, she seemed tired. The stress of labor and the trauma of being shot had taken their toll.
Rachel took her blood pressure, and she wasn’t surprised that it was low. Penny’s pulse was jumpy and weak.
When her next contraction hit, Rachel talked her through it. “You don’t have to tough it out. If you need the release of yelling—”
“No,” she snapped. “I’m not giving those bastards the satisfaction of hearing me scream.”
Apparently, she was making up for her weakened physical condition with a powerful hostility. Rachel asked, “Should I send Cole out of the room while I do the vaginal exam?”
“Yes.”
He was quick to leave. “I’ll fetch the tea.”
Alone with Penny, Rachel checked the cervix. Dilation was already at seven centimeters. This baby could be coming sooner than she’d thought. “You’re doing a good job,” she encouraged. “It won’t be too much longer.”
“Is my baby okay?”
“Let’s check it out.”
Usually, there was an implied trust between midwife and mom, but this situation was anything but usual. As Rachel hooked up the fetal monitor, she tried to be conversational. “When is your due date?”
