Leopard 03 - Burning Wild

more control. It was a frightening feeling. Emma caught his hand, holding it tight as they put her on a gurney and rushed her to a preparation room.
    “Promise me, Jake. Whatever it takes. Say it.”
    “Damn it, Emma. Nothing will happen to you.” He crouched beside her head, his lips against her ear.
    Even he could see the bright red blood dripping from the table as they slid lines into her arms, racing against the clock, preparing to take her to surgery.
    “They have to take her now, Jake,” Brenda said. “Let them go.”
    “No! He has to promise,” Emma said.
    Jake caught her face in his hands and kissed her. Right on her mouth. Uncaring that she might not want it, or that she would be angry later. His eyes burned and his throat felt clogged with a million regrets. “I give you my word. But you live, damn it. Do you hear me, Emma? You live.”
    Brenda took his arm and tugged gently. Jake shook her off, taking a step after the departing gurney, noticing that they were practically running as they took her away from him. He swore softly under his breath and stepped to the window, looking out, wanting to be alone. The nurse moved away and he breathed a sigh of relief.
    He had no idea how to handle his life anymore without Emma in it. His carefully laid plans didn’t matter as much as making certain she was alive, somewhere in the world, preferably in his home. She was sunshine and laughter and she just plain made him feel good. She was the most exasperating woman in the world, but he found every day filled with her.
    When he worked in his office, she intruded on his thoughts continually. When he ran free as the leopard, she ran with him in his mind. When he rode horses and checked cattle down in the steep ravine, she was there. Even in the oil fields she intruded, so that he craved the sight and sound and scent of her. At night, tired and exhausted, he looked forward to going home to her.
    How many nights had he sat on her bed, nudging her to scoot over so he could stretch out while they talked together in the dark? She was small and soft beside him, her hair like silk on the pillow.
    Sometimes he rubbed the strands between his fingers as she told him about her day. When the baby kicked, she would grab his hand and put it on her stomach, and he’d feel the tiny little thud and wonder would spread through him like a warm tide.
    He didn’t want to lose that small life growing inside of her any more than he wanted to lose Emma.
    Jake frowned and shook his head, trying to deny his anxiety. Surely the baby didn’t matter to him so much, but the loss would devastate Emma. She couldn’t take another death. He couldn’t let himself think too much. He had to trust in his preparations. The teams of doctors, both for Emma and her unborn child. The blood he made certain was on hand.
    “Jake?”

    Jake swung around and nodded to the man who’d entered, his lawyer, John Stillman. He’d done a background check on Stillman long before he ever approached the man to represent his personal interests. Stillman was a man his great-grandfather had casually mentioned, an up-and-coming lawyer who was impressive. If the man had impressed his great-grandfather, Jake was willing to meet him.
    During the interview Jake had asked questions, lots of questions, designed to make the man uncomfortable, but not once had he smelled a lie.
    “The nurse called me the minute there was a problem, just as you instructed. Emma signed the papers on the helicopter ride over, giving formal consent for you to adopt the baby. Ms. Hacker witnessed her signature. The rest is a formality. I’ll take it to the judge.”
    “Tonight, John,” Jake said. “I want it done the moment the child is born.”
    If the baby lived, it would bear his name. He had promised Emma he would give the child his name and raise it, and he had every intention of keeping his word to her. One more tie to her. If Emma died . . .
    He slammed the door shut on that thought, his heart contracting painfully.
    “She’s in surgery?”
    Jake nodded, unable to find his voice. Activity in the halls sent him striding past the lawyer. He turned as a doctor approached.
    “Emma?” He bit her name out, fear skittering through his body like a lethal snake.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Bannaconni, she’s still in surgery.”
    He couldn’t breathe. He stood there, head down, not looking at any of them, and thought he was going to choke on his own fear. It was silly, really. He’d been