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couldn’t.
    Fiercely determined to save her child, Kennedy reached for the cellphone lying on the floor. She had to call someone…anyone. God, please don’t let this be happening. Her fingers grazed the phone…excruciating agony ripped through her. She screamed.
     
    In the midst of rifling through Thomas O’Connell’s desk drawer, the man jerked up at the sound. What the hell?
    Another unearthly bellow echoed through the empty house.  
    He glanced around the room. Fifteen minutes of looking through every file and folder in O’Connell’s small study, and he had found nothing. Whatever information the man had, it wasn’t here. Now he had a decision to make. Pretend he hadn’t heard the screams and leave or go help?  
    Hell, he might be a heartless, unfeeling bastard, but even he wasn’t that cold. Exiting the study, he ran upstairs toward the sound of the cries and shoved open the door. The flashlight in his hand speared the darkness. His eyes took in the woman on her knees beside the bed, almost bent double in her agony.  
    “What’s wrong?”  
    She gasped out “Who are—” Pain distorted her face, and she cried, “My baby…something’s wrong.”
    He reached for her, and she tried to back away. “No, who are—” She broke off and gasped out a soft, anguished sob.
    He lifted her gently, laid her on the bed, and said firmly, “You have nothing to fear from me. I promise.” Pulling pillows from the top of the bed, he placed them under her feet. Taking the cellphone she must’ve dropped on the floor, he punched in 911. With the other hand, he took Kennedy O’Connell’s pulse. Rapid…way too rapid. When the operator answered, he told her the situation. She gave him instructions and assured him an ambulance would be there within ten minutes.  
    Ten minutes? Screw that. He could get her to the hospital in five.  
    “Okay, hold on. We’re going to the hospital.”
    Scooping her into his arms, blankets and all, he rushed down the stairs and out the door. He placed her as gently as he could in the back seat of his SUV and then jumped in. It was past midnight…traffic was light. Ignoring every traffic light and stop sign, he pulled into the emergency entrance four minutes later and jumped out. Pulling open the back door, he cursed under his breath when he saw the blood. Damn…there was so much of it.  
    With soft utterances of reassurance that he knew in his gut were lies, he pulled the semiconscious woman into his arms and raced inside the hospital.  
    “I need help!” he shouted.  
    Nurses ran forward. A gurney appeared, and he relinquished his hold on the woman in his arms. Her face whiter than the sheets she lay on, her eyes closed into what looked like death. When the gurney disappeared behind closed doors, knowing he could do nothing more, he turned to leave.
    A young woman in a nurse’s uniform appeared before him. “Sir, would you step over to the desk, please? I have some paperwork that needs to be filled out.”
    He shook his head. “I don’t know her. I was walking to my car and found her out front.”
    Her eyes widened—she’d bought his story. “Oh. Well, thank you for carrying her inside.”
      “She did manage to tell me her name is Kennedy O’Connell. That’s all I know.”
    Taking advantage of the woman’s inattention as she scribbled on the clipboard in her hand, he turned and strode quickly out the door. He was halfway to his car when he happened to catch a glimpse of his hands. Blood. Everywhere.  
    Shit. Memories he’d fought a lifetime to smother flashed before his eyes. With a loud, vicious curse, he dove into his car and sped out of the parking lot.
     
    Nick sat in the waiting room, waiting for word on Kennedy. If not for fellow police officer Pete Stark, whose wife, Holly, was an ER nurse, he might not have even known Kennedy was here, fighting for the life of her child and possibly her own.
    One minute after Pete called him, he’d been on his way to the