Page 33 of Her Honorable Hero

She must have said something, or tried to, because he put his ear to her mouth, and then responded. “I’d never give up hope. You know better than that,” he said fervently.

She shook her head and moaned.

“Don’t move,” he admonished. “At the very least, you have broken ribs.” He was still palpitating her sides and abdomen, watching her face intently.

“Down there,” Scarlett moved her arm, pointing to the window. She gasped in pain. “Hope.”

Miranda finally understood what she was saying. She was talking about the baby.

Hope must be outside the train.

Miranda dove down beside where Scarlett lay.

“Dammit, be careful,” Josiah growled at Miranda.

“I am,” Miranda assured him. “I need to look out the window.” Miranda stuck her head out the bent frame, trying to push out some of the safety glass.

“What are you doing?” Josiah demanded to know. He was clearly agitated.

Miranda kept scanning the area. First right, then left. Finally she spotted a little pink tennis shoe that was attached to a miracle.

“Hope,” she called out in a sing song voice, trying to get the little girl’s attention without scaring her.

The baby was curled up in the fetal position, her eyes open and glassy, sand covering her little face.

“Hope, please answer me, Sweetie. Your mama is worried about you.” The child continued to stare off into nothing.

Screech.

The sound was deafening. The train slid even closer to the cliff and Miranda watched in horror as the outside of the train hovered another inch closer above the fragile body of the child. Two feet of space separated Hope from tons of metal. The train lurched again.

“Oww.” Miranda’s shoulder was slammed into some of the remaining glass of the window. She felt it tear through her blouse and rip into the flesh of her upper arm.

“Are you okay, Miranda?” Josiah asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Get back in here,” he ordered.

She ignored him and continued to wriggle out toward the toddler. “Hope, Sweetie, come here and I’ll take you to your mommy.”

She saw a momentary flicker of recognition at the word Mommy. Miranda held out her arms. She was about sixteen feet away from the girl. She’d have to get out of the train in order to reach her.

Strong hands pulled at Miranda’s waist.

“Get your ass back in here.” She’d never heard Griff sound so angry. Miranda kicked backwards. Ow!

Was the man solid muscle?

She tried to look backwards, but with the grass and her hair, she couldn’t see him. “Griff, let me go.”

“No. Get back inside.”

Miranda kicked again, hoping to hit something a little more vulnerable, but instead she only managed to cause pain to her injured leg.

“What’s wrong, why did you cry out in pain?” Griff demanded to know.

“Hope is out here, dammit. Let me go so I can get her.” Griff’s grip didn’t let up. She looked back at Hope and her heart jumped into her throat. The little girl was looking at her fearfully because she’d yelled. She was beginning to scooch backwards toward the edge of the cliff.