MOTHER'S DAY

By AJB

CHAPTER TWO

"GET DOWN!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Martin saw Finn startle awake, tiny arms flinging aside as his eyes shot open. Five figures streamed into the shop, clad in black from their full-face stocking masked heads down to their laced leather boots.

Finn blinked in shocked surprise just before he burst into terrified tears from the noise. The first robber in smashed a second display cases and then strode to the center of the store where he leveled an automatic rifle at Lena. The next two robbers moved left and right, smashing cases as they moved. Two more of the crew followed and grabbed display items, stuffing them into canvas bags.

The lead robber on Martin's side of the store stopped a few feet from him and pointed an automatic handgun at his face.

It all happened in a few scant seconds. Martin aborted his initial lunge toward his stored gun with Finn's hysterical screaming. Instead, he raised his hands and took a step sideways so he stood between the intruder and the boy. Lena gasped as if unable to breathe and immediately crouched to the floor, hands over her head.

"I SAID GET DOWN!" The rifle wielding robber bellowed at Martin, jabbing the weapon toward him.

"Okay, okay," Martin said in a level voice. "I hear you." He dropped to his knees, his chest still a barrier protecting Finn, maintaining eye contact with whom he assumed to be the leader. "Just take it easy!"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" Becoming more agitated, the man shoved Lena aside with his booted foot and then quickly moved around her and stormed up to Martin leading with the rifle barrel. He stopped when the rifle tip was mere inches from Martin's face.

In those fleet tense seconds, Martin flicked his eyes to the next closest intruder, noting wide, green eyes fixed on something behind him. "Finn," he concluded as his heart rate leapt – he also realized that they were the eyes of a woman and cold fear clutched his gut.

Now the leader stepped between them, forcing Martin to tip his head back to see into the masked face. Smoldering dark eyes bore into him as the man stepped up and twisted, slamming the stock of the rifle to Martin's temple.

Someone screamed. Finn cried. Martin tipped aside, falling to the floor in a heap. Something deep inside rose up and he held on to consciousness with precarious tenacity. One arm flailed and found the stroller - he grabbed it, taking a determined hold. Stars whirled before his eyes as a dark edge narrowed his vision. He could hear loud voices arguing, the words jumbled.

Martin brought his other hand around and clutched the stroller, using the sturdy frame to get his knees under him. Once upright, he blinked hard to clear his vision. The first thing he saw was blood spatter on his hands and Finn's blanket. The little boy cried hard, his face screwed up and bright red. Martin hung on tight as his vision wavered.

Something hit him hard between his shoulder blades and he tipped forward across the screaming baby. His head throbbed. It took a little time for him to realize that someone was talking to him and a few seconds longer to figure out the words.

"Pick him up before I kill you where you are! PICK HIM UP AND SHUT HIM UP!"

"Yeah, yeah," Martin mumbled as he ordered clumsy fingers to obey. Finally, Finn was free and Martin pulled him close to his chest. "Shhh, shhh," he soothed, even though the pain in his head made him want to vomit.

A fist twisted into the back of his tee shirt and lifted him to his feet. Martin, fearful of dropping Finn, fought for balance. A body closed in on one side and physically propelled him forward and out the front door amidst more yelled orders and chaos.

A dark SUV waited at the curb with the doors open and someone pushed Martin into the middle row bench seat with Finn safely enclosed in his arms. Once seated, bodies settle in on either side of him and he heard the doors slam closed. His head roared with pain. The vehicle leaped away and Martin screwed his eyes shut as a man in the front seat yelled, increasing the sharp throb in his head. Finn wailed, adding to the chaos in his head.

"Shhh, shhh," Martin crooned softly. He tipped his head and rested his cheek against the crown of Finn's sweaty crown, hot from the child's state. Martin kept his eyes closed and continued to utter quiet reassurances as he gently rocked in the tight space. He willed his own agony to subside.

The SUV weaved wildly down the road and the yelling stopped, replaced by sharp orders. Martin heard the rub of material and the brush of shed clothing. Finn finally quieted, reduced to wet hiccups. When the throbbing subsided to something he could deal with, Martin opened his eyes and without lifting his cheek from Finn, looked around.

There were six of them, two in each of the three rows of seats with him and Finn smack in the center. Their masks and black cover ups were gone and Martin noted their more colorful shirts. The one riding shotgun in front of him was the rifle-toting leader from the store.

"Is he okay?"

Martin turned to the person to his left and met the stare of the green-eyed woman. Her dark red hair was thick, wavy and long enough to brush the tops of her shoulders. A spray of freckles powdered her nose. She couldn't have been more than twenty-two.

Martin noticed the handgun still in her grip, resting across her lap. "Could you point that somewhere else?" he growled, keeping his voice low to keep Finn quiet. He was relieved that the boy appeared to be dozing off from exhaustion.

The woman glanced down and seemed surprised to see the gun. She quickly tucked the weapon between her side and the door, out of sight. Then she reached out to brush Finn's temple with her finger tips. "Is he hurt?"

"Keep your hands off him," Martin snapped, twisting just enough to deny her touch.

"I wouldn't hurt him," she said, her gaze fixed on the sleeping child in a way that churned Martin's stomach. "I wouldn't . . ."

"Shut up, both of you," the man on Martin's other side ordered. "What's the deal, Sid?" Martin noted his shorn head and green shamrock tattoo on the side of his neck when he leaned forward to address the man riding shotgun. "I didn't sign up for this shit!" Shamrock Man waved a hand at Martin and Finn. Finn tensed and his breath hitched, pushed to the edge of awakening.

It happened so fast, it took Martin's shattered senses a few heartbeats to catch up and realize that the redhead now held her handgun to Shamrock's shiny temple. Her arm stretched out mere inches from Martin's nose, so he pressed back into the seat and shielded the child with his arms.

"You're disturbing the baby," the woman said in a low, dangerous tone. She pressed the muzzle into her partner's skull and ground out, "Don't. Wake. The baby." She accented each word with a push of the gun. "Understand?"

Shamrock nodded. Transfixed by the scene and the man's reaction, Martin now realized what he was dealing with and it caused his blood to run cold. The redhead was insane.

The SUV traveled easily through the nearly empty streets for several minutes before slowing to enter a low-slung parking garage. They headed to a lower lever and parked near two mid-sized sedans. The driver turned off the ignition. The hot motor popped.

"Okay now, let's move," Shotgun Sid ordered.

The others exited the SUV in quiet order, leaving Martin and Finn. The red-head stood aside long enough for the last two to exit before stationing herself in the vehicle's doorway, her gimlet eyes locked on the sleeping child. Martin shifted and glanced around. The others were splitting up between the two cars, dividing the loot into four backpacks.

He had to take a chance now. Martin turned his attention to the woman.

"Help him," Martin said quietly. "Help me get him to safety. I know you don't want him hurt but I don't think your partners feel the same way." She blinked. Her eyes flicked to Martin's and then back to Finn. "His name is Finn," Martin said. "I'm Martin."

The woman swallowed hard. "Savannah," she whispered. "I had a little boy . . ." Then she shook her head as if to clear her head and frowned. "Shut up!" She snapped, bringing the gun up to put Martin square in her sites. Her eyes sparked. "Shut the hell up!"

Martin hugged Finn closer. "Okay, okay. You're the boss, Savannah."

"Hey!" Sid barked as he threw a backpack in the silver car. "Let's go, Van!"

"Get out!" Savannah motioned for Martin to get out of the car using the gun.

As he slid toward the open door, Martin quickly evaluated his surroundings. There was a smattering of cars in the structure but Martin hadn't seen any people. An engine turned over on one of the two sedans and he heard it drop into gear as the door closed on the last of the three. Shamrock man sat behind the wheel.

When Martin slipped from the SUV and stood, he saw an elevator bay a short distance away. Flanking it, the stairwell grabbed his attention.

He moved without a second thought - he didn't have the time to think. Every bit of Martin's engrained tactical training kicked in when he bolted. There was plenty of cover with the scattered cars, building support posts and solid elevator shaft, but the addition of Finn's small body was enough to slow Martin's pace and shift his usual center of gravity.

An outraged shout was quickly followed by several shots that echoed in the enclosed structure and hit closer than he liked; pieces of cement bit his face and neck. Hunched over Finn as he sprinted, Martin's body protected the boy.

"DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT! MY BABY!" A woman's voice shrieked. He heard more yelling and scuffling movement as he hit the stairs.

Martin pounded down the flights and focused on maintaining balance. Above, he heard squealing tires as a car left the scene and he tried to calculate timing – would he make it to an exit before the car?

Finn stirred, jarred from a shocked state, his sudden squirming unbalancing Martin. Staggering sideways on the last step, he brushed a pillar hard with his shoulder. He sucked air in shock, knowing it was the birth of a spectacular bruise. His fingers tingled and his grip on the boy loosened involuntarily.

"Ahhhh," Martin breathed as he danced a lopsided path at the bottom of the stairs, nearly falling over his own feet. "Shit!" he hissed. Finn slipped downward and Martin had to stop and adjust his grip. His bruised arm felt numb and his head throbbed. Finn clutched his shirt and gasped spasmodically, red-faced and slick with sweat. "Shh, shhh," Martin soothed as he tucked into the corner of the stairwell's enclosure.

He was on the bottom floor and the final door was right in front of him. He just had to get out of the stairwell and through an exit doorway. Martin spoke quietly and brushed back Finn's hair as he tried to slow his own breathing and listen for pursuit. Although the gunfire had stopped, he could still hear racing engines and squealing tires. With the echo of his concrete prison, it was impossible to fix a direction.

Martin held Finn close, noting the boy's sudden silence, as he stepped through the stairway opening and scanned garage. A green "Exit" sign led his gaze to a bright rectangle of daylight about twenty feet away. He grabbed the opportunity and ran.

If he had been alone, he would have made it, and the error of his estimation skidded to block him just shy of his escape. Martin managed to stop before running into the car and came nose to muzzle with a very large automatic handgun. The crazy redhead's eyes locked onto Martin's. She sat in the driver's seat, one hand on the steering wheel and the hand wrapped around the gun's grips. She leveled the weapon without a flinch through the open passenger's window.

"Get in," she snapped. "I won't miss at this distance." Another engine roar echoed through the structure but the woman's stare did not flinch. "They want you dead," she added. "I want him. You're forfeit."

"Okay, okay," Martin, knowing he had no other option, opened the door and slid inside. The moment his door closed, his captor cranked the wheel and accelerated, leaving behind a smoking black semi-circle. Martin had to concentrate on bracing his feet to keep from flying sideways. That was when he noticed the blood spray staining the car's interior and the woman's profile.

The car plunged toward the single exit. In is peripheral vision, Martin caught a frightening glimpse of another car coming toward them on his side at a sideswiping angle. All he could do was hunker down and do what he could to protect Finn.

"Bastard."

The woman's low voice chilled Martin's bones. He happened to be looking at her as she spat the word and didn't know what alarmed him more: Her cool and collected demeanor or the wicked smile and glittering eyes. She enjoyed this game. The seemingly lost woman from the jewelry store was long gone, replaced by a personality that scared him on many levels.

Quickly, he twisted away from the window and bent over the boy. Almost immediately, he felt the car make one, sharp movement to the right and then both heard and felt a solid bump. He squeezed his eyes closed, amazed that his car's path barely wavered. The other care, though, fared worse. He flinched at the sound of a loud, metallic collision, imagining their pursuer's demise as his ride crashed through the flimsy exit gate relatively unscathed.

As they raced away from the parking garage, the woman's chuckle erased any hope Martin had for a peaceful conclusion to this situation.

TBC

9-18-10