was a precaution Tucker needed to take.
Not just for Laine, but for those babies.
The moment he finished the call with Reed, Laine said, “The dead woman could have heard the guards or the CI mention me. She could have heard my name, and that’s why she called me.”
Yeah, Laine’s phone number wouldn’t have been hard to find. But why had the woman thought she could trust Laine? And how the heck had she gotten away from the baby farm and into town?
“She probably heard more than just your name,” Tucker explained. “She likely heard the guards say that they didn’t trust you, that you could be working for the cops.”
Of course that meant assuming the woman was totally innocent in all of this. And that she was indeed trying to protect her babies. But maybe the men killed her for a different reason, and finding that reason would only be possible if they first learned her identity. Hopefully the blood Reed had found would help with that.
“Come on.” Tucker grabbed some towels from the adjoining bathroom. “Reed will be here soon, and I need to get the babies and you to the hospital for checkups.”
Laine gave a shaky nod, probably because she wasn’t thrilled about going outside, where the missing gunman might spot her. “And then what?”
“Protective custody. A safe house.”
Another nod. She wrapped the babies each in the towels. Not ideal cover, but it was better than using the damp blanket Laine had used to hold them earlier.
“Can you manage to carry both of them?” he asked. It was a strange question, because she’d carried them across the pasture to get to his house, but she was more shaken up now. After all, she’d just come darn close to dying.
“Yes.” And her attention went to the belt holster he’d just put on. Then to the backup weapon he slid into the back of his jeans.
“I’ll pull the truck right up to the steps,” he assured her. “By the time we make it to the road, Reed should be here.”
Tucker had barely made it a step before he heard the sound of a car engine. He hurried to the front window, expecting to see Reed’s truck, but it was a black four-door sedan.
“What’s wrong?” Laine asked, obviously noticing the change in his body language.
“Maybe nothing.” Of course, it felt like something since it could be their attacker returning.
However, the man who stepped out from the car wasn’t the escaped gunman. This guy was in his late twenties and had pale blond hair. He was wearing a dark gray suit, with no sign of a weapon. He ducked his head against the storm and ran toward the porch.
The man wasn’t alone. There was someone else in the car, but Tucker could only make out a silhouette because of the rain-streaked windows.
“You know him?” Laine asked.
“No. Wait here and stay away from the windows.” Tucker didn’t move until she had the babies back by the bed before he drew his gun and started for the door. Their visitor knocked just as he got there. He swung open the door and asked the guy to identify himself.
“Martin Hague,” the man said, but his voice trailed off to nothing but breath when he spotted Tucker’s gun. “I heard on the drive over that you’d had some trouble out here.”
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