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orders to check the overturned convertible, to ensure an ambulance and the police were on the way.
    He worked furiously at stemming the flow of blood pouring from the woman’s temple and from her leg. A part of him knew he should be thinking instead of Shaina and the child she was carrying, but his mind was consumed with the woman he protected. All he could do was vow silently not to allow her to slip away as she so clearly wanted to do.
    Her grief-stricken green eyes begged him to let her go. Where had he seen those eyes before? He looked into them again, drawn by some unseen force. Almond shape, pupils round and black, the irises a rare aquamarine, the blue-green surrounded by a golden circle. Unusual. And yet somehow familiar.
    “Let me go.”
    Jake found himself leaning close to her, his breath warm against her skin. He held her gaze with ruthless command, letting her know he refused to allow her to slip away, that he would hold her to him through sheer will alone. “No.” He said the word implacably. “Did you hear me? No.” He denied her a second time, his teeth snapping together in finality as he applied more pressure to the pumping wound in her leg.
    She closed her eyes and turned her face away from him as if she had no fight left in her. The ambulance was there, paramedics pushing him aside to work on her. A short distance away, firefighters draped a blanket over Shaina’s friend. It occurred to Jake with grim satisfaction that this was one accident Shaina’s father could not make go away with his money.
    More paramedics were working desperately at Shaina’s side. It took him a minute to realize they were taking the baby—his son. His heart in his throat, he waited until he heard the triumphant cheers. The child was alive, which was more than they could say for the mother. He waited to feel emotion—any emotion—at Shaina’s death or at the birth of his son. He felt nothing at all, only a sense of contempt for the way Shaina had lived and died. Silently cursing his own cold nature, he looked down at the woman lying so still, her dark eyes staring past the paramedic to the burned car. He shifted slightly while they worked on her, to block her view.
    Jake followed the ambulances carrying his son and the woman to a small hospital. Although the place seemed a little primitive by Jake’s standards, the overworked staff seemed to know their jobs.
    “I’m Officer Nate Peterson.” A young highway patrolman thrust a cup of coffee into his bloody hands.
    Her blood. The woman with the mesmerizing eyes. Her blood was all over him. Jake’s shoulders sagged and all at once he was immensely tired, but he needed to find out if she was still alive.
    “Can you tell me what happened, sir?” the officer asked. The young patrolman was shaking so badly he could hardly hold his pen. “Andy and I were good friends,” the man admitted, choking back emotion.
    “Tell me about him,” Jake said, curious about the man who inspired such loyalty that a woman would run through fire to save him, even with her own terrible injuries. A man who could make a patrolman shake and hold back real tears. Jake could feel the genuine emotion pouring from the other man. He looked around the hospital and found others looking just as distressed.
    “His name was Andrew Reynolds and he was twenty-five, best mechanic in town. He could fix anything with an engine. I was best man at his wedding only five months ago. He was so happy that Emma married him. They were so happy.”
    Emma. That was her name. “Is she still alive?” He held his breath.
    The patrolman nodded. “As far as I know. She’s in surgery. Did you see the accident?”
    Jake crumpled up the paper coffee cup and threw it in the trash can. “Shaina and her friend were drunk. I followed them from Senator Hindman’s party. Shaina Trent, the woman, was carrying my child. I’m sorry, I don’t know the man.”
    He gave the rest of his statement as clearly as possible, knowing