Emily's Nightmare: New Orleans Detectives

By Melanie Atkins

Detective Emily Rawson doesn't want children; she's too focused on her career to give a family the time required. That is, until she falls in love with fellow detective John Cutter, forgets to take precautions, and winds up pregnant. She fights the idea tooth and nail before finally deciding that having a baby is exactly what she wants—as long as the child is Cutter's. Then tragedy strikes. Will it bring them together or tear them apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melanie Atkins
• Release date: Apr 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386275299

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by Melanie Atkins

ISBN 13:

Published in the United States of America

1st Ebook & Print Publication Date: August 2012

2nd Ebook Publication Date: April 11, 2019

Content Editor: Gail R. Delaney

Cover Artist: JL Fuller

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher. Ebooks are not transferrable, either in whole or in part. As the purchaser or otherwise lawful recipient of this ebook, you have the right to enjoy the novel on your own computer or other device. Further distribution, copying, sharing, gifting, or uploading is illegal and violates US Copyright laws. Pirating of ebooks is illegal. Criminal Copyright Infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, may be investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of up to $250,000. Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents, or persons living or dead are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

Dedication

To the Magnolia State Romance Writers: I couldn't have done it without you.

Chapter One

He's holding two kids. A four-year-old and an infant.

Detective Emily Rawson drew in a sharp breath.

Worst case scenario. She hadn't had a case this devastating since she'd moved to Special Victims six months ago. All cases with kids tugged at her heart, but the call she'd gotten a half hour ago had told her these two had been taken captive by their own father. Sure, he was estranged from their mother, who'd taken up with another man—a convicted sex offender the father suspected of molesting his daughter—but now he'd shoved the mom out the door and fired at responding officers. Not what Emily needed to deal with tonight.

The young officer looked around, then lifted a brow. Where's your partner?

On his way. She focused on the house across the street. Joe Blaine had called only moments ago, irked she'd left the station without him. Just what was she supposed to do when two kids were in trouble? Wait until he finished his evening coffee?

A beat up Crown Vic roared up behind the SWAT team's sleek black armored SUV, and Blaine climbed out. Sure enough, he held a single cup of java—one for himself and none for her—and he cradled that cup as if it were gold. Emily wanted to pour the steaming brew over his head. The guy was a first class jerk, but for now she was stuck with him. As the newest kid in the unit, she had to endure his spiteful personality until something better popped. After dealing with Kent and thinking about Cutter and then receiving another haunting letter from her mother wanting to know when Emily was going to get married and have kids, she was ready to scream. Babies were not in her future. She wanted a career first... and then maybe a husband, somewhere down the road. Kids didn't figure into the equation.

Joe strolled up with a disgusted smirk on his face, and her heart hammered with anxiety. Instead of acknowledging him, she aimed her gaze across the street at the SWAT team hunkered in the shadows, as they edged into position. Several long minutes slid by.

Until finally, Blaine looked at her and sighed. Emily—

I didn't wait for you because Watson said it was urgent. All she could do to keep from snapping at him was to grit her teeth and give him the lowdown on what had happened since she'd arrived. Just focus on the job and ignore him if he snipes back.

To her relief, he simply nodded and sipped his coffee.

The SWAT team still hadn't moved. She guessed they were waiting for the negotiator to try to get through to the hostage taker one last time. So all she, Blaine, and the other officers on scene could do was sit back and wait, despite her jumping nerves. Maybe Blaine not bringing her coffee was a good thing. Emily was a genuine caffeine addict, and any more of the stuff would have her so damned wired she might lose it for real once the boys stormed the house. As it was, she couldn't keep her hands still.

Where's the mother? Blaine asked, casting an irked glance at her fingers drumming on the trunk of the car.

She stilled her moving digits and pointed toward a cruiser pulled to the curb down the block. She's in Jenning's car. The first officers on scene had to put her in there to keep her from breaking into the house.

And getting herself shot.

Yep. Emily fisted her hands.

He sent her a sideways look. Have you had a chance to talk to her?

Not yet. She was too distraught when I arrived.

Well, wouldn't have hurt for you to have at least—

A deafening crack echoed through the darkness as the SWAT team hit the door and poured inside the house. Lights flickered on around the normally quiet neighborhood.

Lemme see your hands!

Let her go!

Put it down, Gandy!

The officer's loud shouts stepped all over each other, and then two shots rang out.

Emily flattened her palms on the back of the car. She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. She could only focus on those two poor little kids—one, a baby—caught up in this maelstrom of insanity. Had they been hit?

Seconds later, one of the officers came out leading the little girl by the hand, and Emily's breath sailed out. Then another exited holding a pile of blankets. No, not blankets.

The infant. A boy.

Her heart stutter-stepped. Little kids, especially babies, terrified her. Unlike most girls growing up, she'd never babysat a day in her life. She'd made her spending money cutting grass and raking leaves like many of the boys had. She'd never even changed a freaking diaper. Yet for some reason, she found herself sprinting toward the man with the baby, the juxtaposition of the tiny, blanket-wrapped form against his stark black Kevlar vest bringing tears to her eyes.

I'll take him, she said breathlessly, skidding to a stop in front of him. The dark shadows cast by the overhanging oaks made the night eerie, and the odor of mud rolling up from the river only added to the scene. Sweat rimmed her brow, and she dashed it away.

He nodded and handed her the wrapped bundle. Sure, Detective. The EMTs will want to check him out before you give him back to the mother.

No problem. That won't happen tonight, anyway. We're still looking for her boyfriend. She cuddled the squirming baby and peered down into his face. He squenched his little brow and stared right back. Only four months old, but he was already checking out the world.

Blaine walked up. The EMTs are waiting. He held out his hands. Give him to me.

No. I've got him. She fired her partner a heated glare, tucked the baby closer to her chest, and reluctantly took a step in the direction of the waiting ambulance.

Unfortunately, she had to walk past the cruiser holding the mother, and Emily couldn't help but seek out the woman's terrified eyes.

Please, she mouthed, pressing both hands to the closed window, tears streaming down her face. Please let me see him.

Okay, Emily said aloud, her heart clenching at the other woman's torment. She'd made a huge mistake by cheating on her husband with a registered sex offender, and now she was paying the price. Whether she'd get her kids back anytime soon was yet to be seen, but Emily could at least let her see for herself that her tiny son hadn't suffered any physical injuries.

She edged closer to the window and held the baby down low so his mother could tell he was all right. See? she murmured, knowing the woman couldn't hear her. He's just fine.

What the hell are you doing, Emily? Blaine snapped, stalking up beside her and grabbing her arm. She's in custody.

No, she's not. Emily rewrapped the blankets around the baby's kicking feet and smiled down at the stricken woman, who bit her lip, nodded in gratitude, and wiped away her tears. DHS is taking the kids until they find the mother's boyfriend and make sure she's a fit mom. In my opinion, she's only guilty of poor judgment when it comes to men.

Then why's she still locked in the car?

To keep her from getting in the way. Watson told us that once SWAT had rescued the kids, we were to turn them over immediately. So think about it, Blaine. If we let her out, it'll be that much harder for her—and she might do something to jeopardize her chance of getting 'em back. Better to just hand over the kids and let her take up her case with the social worker assigned to them, don't you think?

Well... yeah. He scowled. I guess.

Jackass. She left him standing by the car and carried the baby over to the ambulance. Her heart sank the second she handed him over, and she didn't know why.

*****

John Cutter ordered a beer, pulled out a barstool, and plunked himself down next to a couple of his former buds from the academy, Kent Monroe and Rondale Turner. Bullets, the hottest cop bar in town, was definitely hopping tonight. Odd, because Tuesdays were usually extra slow. Kent worked Special Victims with Emily, and he rarely stopped in during the week.

Well, well, well, Kent said, downing the last of his dark ale. He shot Cutter a wry look. If it ain't Mr. I-Wanna-Move-To-Homicide. Gotten any new burglary cases lately, pal?

Too damned many. Thank God I worked my last one yesterday. My transfer went through. Cutter took the beer the bartender slid across the bar. He'd wanted to transfer to Special Victims, but Emily had been chosen over him, and everybody knew it. Murders will probably be worse, though.

True dat. Rondale laughed. Told you to come to SWAT with me. We just took down a dude holding his own kids hostage.

Seriously?

Oh, yeah. With a hearty nod, Rondale set his glass on the bar and signaled for another round. He was all bluster. Took him down with no trouble. The kids are fine.

I was there, too, you know. Kent swished the beer around in his glass and eyed Cutter. So was Emily.

Your former sweetheart. Rondale grinned. Man, you were nuts for that broad... and I gotta say, she sure ain't hard on the eyes. Cute little butt, pretty blond hair... too bad you didn't get transferred with her.

You've got that right, Turner. Emily's one hot chick. She's too focused on her career, though. Says she's not dating cops anymore. Keeping his gaze straight ahead, Kent picked up a handful of peanuts and tossed them back. Once he'd finished crunching them, he faced Cutter again and said, What happened with your transfer, bro? You let her beat you out?

No, Cutter snapped. He'd wanted to go to SVU, that's for sure. To do his bit in the toughest unit on the force, and then get the hell out. But the captain had chosen Emily over him and partnered her with Kent, then Blaine. Even now, Cutter thought it best to steer clear of transferring to that unit. Not after what had happened—or rather, what hadn't happened—between him and Emily. He wanted a family, and she didn't. End of story.

The bartender brought the next round, and Kent glanced at Cutter. Guess Emily told you what happened between her and her great-uncle... and I figure that's why she's so caught up in bringing down the scumbags we collar.

What are you talking about? Cutter frowned.

Kent sat back in surprise. You mean, you really don't know?

No. Stop beating around the bush and tell me.

All right. His friend put his elbows on the bar. Have I got a story for you.

Chapter Two

Fear pummeled