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Chapter Three

Even though Gracelyn didn’t say anything, Ruston instantly knew from the change in her body language that something was wrong.

She thrust out her phone screen so he could see what had put that alarm on her face. One look at the person in dark clothes, and Ruston was certain he was sporting plenty of alarm of his own.

He drew his gun and braced for an attack.

Ruston also took a harder look at the intruder to see if he recognized him, but he couldn’t see the person’s face because it was covered with a mask. He couldn’t even be sure if it was a man or woman. He definitely couldn’t rule out this being Marty. Or one of his hired guns.

But if Marty had come after him like this, then why not just take him when they’d had their initial meeting? They’d been alone for that with no obvious witnesses. Why wait until Ruston was here?

Unless both Gracelyn and he were targets.

Or maybe the target was the baby.

If so, that pointed right back to the baby farm and this mystery person, Green Eagle. And unfortunately, it could point right back to Ruston himself.

“I was careful,” Ruston muttered to Gracelyn. “I didn’t see anyone following me here.”

That didn’t mean, though, that someone hadn’t managed to tail him. That caused him to mentally curse. Because, hell, everything about this could have been a setup.

“The windows aren’t bulletproof,” she whispered, grabbing a blanket from the chair next to the crib.

Gracelyn scooped up the baby, automatically trying to soothe her with gentle rocking motions and murmurs. A necessity, since any sound would alert an intruder to their specific location in the house.

“I have to get her to my SUV,” Gracelyn added.

Gracelyn didn’t invite Ruston to come along, but he did anyway. He had no intention of letting them out of his sight.

“Are the windows of your SUV bullet resistant?” he asked, following her out of the nursery.

“They are,” Gracelyn answered, hurrying into the hall.

She had her hands full, literally, what with holding both the phone and Abigail. Plus, she had a backpack hooked over her shoulder, but she waved off Ruston when he tried to help her.

They’d barely made it another step, though, when they heard the sound. Definitely not something Ruston wanted to hear either.

A gunshot blasted through one the windows.

Ruston muttered some profanity and stepped in front of Gracelyn and the baby. They hunkered down seconds before the next shot. There was the sound of shattering glass falling on the floor, but Ruston didn’t see any bullets coming through the wall near them.

“Give me your phone,” he insisted. “I can see if he’s alone and if he’s using any kind of infrared.” Infrared that would allow the person to track their every movement inside the house.

She passed her phone to him right as the third shot came, and while Ruston listened for any sounds of the person trying to break in, he also studied the various frames from the camera.

And he saw something he definitely didn’t like.

“There are two of them,” he relayed to her. “No infrared device that I can see, but one is shooting at the windows in your living room, and the other is on the front porch. How hard will it be for him to get through the door?”

Gracelyn’s groan was soft but heavy with fear. “Not hard enough,” she answered. “It’s reinforced, but if he shoots the locks...”

She didn’t finish that. No need. It told Ruston everything he needed to know. He debated making a stand since there were only two of them, and if one of them came through the door, Ruston would be able to take the guy out before he managed to get inside. But it was a huge risk. If the intruder managed to get off even a single shot, it could hit Gracelyn or the baby.

And that meant they had to move now.

Ruston took the bag from her shoulder and shifted it to his so Gracelyn wouldn’t have anything to slow her down. He also pictured the location of the interior door that led to the garage. It was just on the other side of the fridge. Not ideal, since there was a window over the kitchen sink and because the second attacker could be at the back door in a matter of seconds.

Still, there weren’t a lot of options here, and having the baby in a bullet-resistant vehicle was better than staying in the house that was currently under attack from two directions.

“Stay low and close to me,” he instructed, though he knew it wasn’t necessary to tell her that.

Gracelyn had been a damn good cop, and she knew how to stay alive. He hoped their combined skills would be enough to keep her infant niece safe.

They moved fast. Well, as fast as they could, considering they were crouching, and they’d just made it to the kitchen when the front doorknob rattled. Of course, it was locked. And as expected, the intruder was having none of that.

The next shot blasted into the lock.

And sent Abigail wailing.

The baby was clearly startled. And terrified. Ruston wanted to punch the intruder for doing that, for putting an innocent baby through this nightmarish ordeal.

Despite the baby’s cries, Gracelyn and he kept moving. It seemed to take an eternity to go the twelve feet or so from the hall and into the kitchen, but they finally made it.

Only to hear another shot to the front lock.

And worse, someone jiggling the knob of the back door.

Clearly, these two thugs were going for a coordinated double attack. An attack where they no doubt would try to sandwich Gracelyn and him in, either to try to gun them down or force them to surrender.

Ruston felt a fresh surge of adrenaline. It was mixed with a fresh round of terror, but everything inside him managed to stay still. He relied on his training. On his instincts. And he shifted places with Gracelyn and the baby when they reached the garage door.

He hated sending her out to the garage ahead of him, but again, they didn’t have a lot of options here. His shooting hand was free, and he needed to be able to return fire if those two thugs broke through the doors. Also, thankfully, there’d been no indications that someone had managed to sneak into the garage.

Gracelyn had to shift the crying baby in her arms, but the moment she opened the door, she moved into the garage. Ruston stayed put to give Gracelyn a chance to get the baby in the car seat. Once she’d finished that, he would hurry to the SUV as well.

There was a third shot to the front door, followed by what Ruston was certain was a kick and a swooshing sound. Then a single footstep. The intruder was inside.

Ruston glanced over his shoulder to see that Gracelyn was in the back seat of a black SUV and was struggling to get the baby into the infant seat. He couldn’t wait any longer. He levered himself up from his crouch just enough to fire a shot in the direction of the front door. When he pulled the trigger, he heard exactly what he wanted.

Some cursing, and the sound of the guy staggering back.

Maybe he was hit, maybe he was merely scrambling to get out of the line of fire. Either way, this should give Gracelyn and him some extra seconds to escape.

Ruston aimed another shot in the direction of the back door, hoping it’d do the same to the intruder who was trying to get in there. But he didn’t wait around to see or hear the results of his two shots. He bolted into the garage, hurrying to get behind the wheel.

“Stay in the back seat with the baby,” Ruston told Gracelyn.

Since the keys were in the holder below the dash, Ruston was able to use the automatic starter to fire up the engine. In the same motion, he hit the remote on the visor to open the garage door.

“Stay down,” he repeated to Gracelyn.

He caught only a glimpse of her face before she did just that. There was no argument in her expression, only the fear. Something he’d rarely seen in her when she’d been a cop. But this time the fear wasn’t for herself or him but rather for the baby.

As soon as Ruston had enough clearance, he put the SUV into Reverse and gunned the engine. He truly hoped the thugs weren’t parked nearby. Because if they had to run to their vehicles, that upped Ruston’s chances of getting Gracelyn and the baby out of there.

Ruston made it out of the garage, but as he was shifting into Drive, a bullet slammed into the windshield of the SUV. It’d come from the gunman on the front porch, who was obviously very much alive. So was his partner, because Ruston caught a glimpse of the second one hurrying around the side of the house. Like his comrade, this one lifted his gun and took aim.

Two shots tore from their weapons.

Both hit the body of the SUV, causing Ruston’s heart to drop. He prayed the bullets hadn’t gotten through to Gracelyn and the baby. Still, he couldn’t risk checking to see if they were all right. He just slammed his foot on the accelerator and got them the hell out of there.

The gunmen came after them.

Not in vehicles. Ruston didn’t see any nearby. But the two men ran after the SUV with both guns blasting out nonstop shots. Most of the bullets slammed into the back window, and Ruston glanced to make sure the safety glass had held. Thankfully, it had.

He also managed to catch a glimpse of Gracelyn.

She’d gotten the crying baby in the infant seat and had positioned her body over the child. A human shield. Of course, that put Gracelyn at greater risk, but he couldn’t fault her for it. If their positions had been reversed, he would have done the same.

Ruston sped to the end of the driveway, and with the tires squealing in protest, he turned right onto the narrow country road. Behind them, the shots finally stopped, but Ruston figured that wasn’t great news. It likely just meant the gunmen were running to their vehicle and would come in pursuit.

Even at the too-fast speed he was going, he was still ten minutes away from the nearest town, which happened to be Saddle Ridge. No way would backup reach them before that, even though Ruston would have loved to have a dozen police cruisers around right now. Not only would it prevent these gunmen from attacking them again, but backup would mean the thugs stood a chance of being apprehended.

And then Ruston could figure out who had hired them.

That was for later, though. For now, he focused on getting Gracelyn and the baby to safety. That started with contacting someone, and he was pleased to see that the SUV Bluetooth paired quickly with his cell so he could make a hands-free call.

He ruled out calling his sister Deputy Joelle McCullough, because she was seven months pregnant. Instead, Ruston called his brother, Slater, who was also a deputy in the Saddle Ridge Sheriff’s Office. Ruston said a short prayer of relief when his brother answered on the first ring.

“Long story short,” Ruston immediately said. “Get anyone you can out to the old Henderson Road. Have them head east. I want lights flashing and sirens blaring.”

Slater had been a cop for a long time, and that was maybe why he didn’t fire off any questions as to why Ruston would need such things. Within a couple of seconds, Ruston heard his brother make a call to Dispatch to request immediate backup and followed that by relaying the location that Ruston had given him.

“I’m on my way,” Slater assured Ruston. “How far out are you from town?”

“Too far. Nine minutes.” Which was an eternity. “Someone’s trying to kill Gracelyn and me, and we have a baby with us.”

No need for him to explain who Gracelyn was, because when Gracelyn had been his partner, he’d brought her to their family ranch several times.

“A baby,” Slater muttered, and he added some ripe profanity to that. “Is anyone hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”

“No, not hurt.” Ruston needed to keep it that way. “Two armed men attacked us at Gracelyn’s place and will shortly be in pursuit of us again.”

Ruston had barely gotten out the words when he glanced in the side mirror and saw the headlights of the vehicle barreling toward them.

“Correction,” Ruston said. “The gunmen are in pursuit now .”

That had Gracelyn shifting her position. She was still sheltering the baby, but she moved so she’d be able to use her gun.

“If they shoot out the safety glass, I’ll return fire to try to get them to back off,” she explained.

Ruston didn’t like that plan at all, but if the bulletproof glass didn’t hold, then the gunfire could get through to the baby. Having someone like Gracelyn—who was a darn good shot—returning fire could maybe get them to back off. And if she got lucky enough, she’d be able to take out the driver.

“You want to stay on the phone with me while I’m en route to you?” Slater asked him.

Ruston didn’t want the distraction. He also didn’t add for his brother to get there fast, because he knew Slater would. “No,” he answered, and he ended the call so he could focus on the road.

Since Ruston didn’t want to risk wrecking the car, he couldn’t try to return fire as well, but he could do something to prevent these thugs from pulling up on the driver’s side of the SUV and having an easier shot. He maneuvered into the center of the road. He should be able to see the headlights of any vehicle coming toward them and get out of the way in time.

He hoped.

Ruston kept up the pressure on the accelerator, but the gunmen must have had a more powerful engine in the big silver truck they were using, because they not only kept up, but they also gained ground. Their headlights were getting closer and closer. Worse, Ruston saw one of the thugs lean out from the passenger’s window.

And take aim at the SUV.

“They’re about to shoot at us,” Ruston relayed to Gracelyn, hoping that would cause her to get back down.

His warning came a split second before the shot blasted into the rear window. The bulk of the glass continued to hold, but this bullet had created a fist-sized hole. It didn’t seem nearly big enough for Gracelyn to get off a shot, but that didn’t stop her.

She took aim. And fired. Not once. But four times.

The sound of each shot ripped through the SUV, causing the baby to wail again, but Ruston saw something positive. The truck swerved, the headlights slashing through the darkness. Gracelyn fired again. And again. Emptying the magazine.

She must have hit the driver, because the truck didn’t just swerve this time. It practically flew off the road and crashed into a pasture fence.

Ruston felt some of the tightness ease up in his chest. Part of him wanted to go back and confront these SOBs, to make them pay for endangering Gracelyn and the baby. But he couldn’t risk that. He just kept on driving and was about to use the hands-free system to call Slater to let him know what was going on. However, before he could do that, his phone rang.

“It’s Charla,” Ruston muttered when he saw the cop’s name pop up on the dash screen.

“Don’t tell her where we are,” Gracelyn was quick to say.

She was still keeping watch out the hole in the back window but was also trying to soothe the baby. The soothing was working or else Abigail had just exhausted herself from crying, because her wails were now just a soft whimper.

“Don’t tell Charla where we are,” Gracelyn repeated, this time with even more emphasis.

Ruston wanted to bristle at the notion of not trusting a fellow cop. But Gracelyn was right. Someone had set him up, and only a handful of people could have managed that.

Charla was one of them.

Even though the woman had never given him a single reason not to trust her, Ruston was going to err on the side of caution here.

“What happened?” Charla demanded the moment Ruston answered the call.

Since that question could encompass a whole lot of things, Ruston took the safe route with this as well. “My cover was blown. Again. Any idea how that happened?”

There was silence for a long time, and then Charla cursed. “Blown? How? Are you hurt?”

Ruston didn’t answer any of those questions but instead went with two of his own. “Why did you ask what’d happened? Why did you suspect something was wrong?”

That brought on more muttered profanity from Charla. “Because I’ve got a dead body on my hands. And judging from the crime scene, someone’s trying to set you up for the murder.”

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