Chapter Eight

Everything inside Duncan went cold when he heard the shots. Three of them, one right behind the other.

He forced himself not to think, especially about Joelle and their baby. Duncan just scrambled down the attic ladder and started running. Fast. As if Joelle and the baby's lives depended on it.

Because he had the sickening feeling that it did.

Duncan took the stairs two and three at a time to reach the first floor, and he was about to barrel out the front door when something from the living room window caught his eye.

Joelle.

Hell. She wasn't in the cruiser but on the side of the house, and there was a hulking thug with one hand twisted in her hair and the other holding a gun that was pointed at her head. He was dragging her toward the back of the house. Maybe toward a vehicle he had stashed somewhere on the ranch.

Duncan turned around and headed for the back door, and he cursed when he had to waste precious seconds fumbling to get a deadbolt open. He finally managed it. Finally, got onto the back porch. But he didn't run. In fact, he tried to stay as quiet as possible when he made his way to the side and peered around it.

Duncan silently cursed. Then, he prayed.

The thug had his back to Duncan and was manhandling Joelle. The grip he had on her hair had to be excruciating, but she was alive, and Duncan couldn't see any blood. However, he could see Joelle trying to shift her feet as the would-be kidnapper maneuvered her over some kind of photos on the ground. Later, he'd see what those photos were all about, but for now he had to figure that Joelle was attempting to get into a position so she could fight back.

Duncan had to admire her grit, but this was a situation that could get her killed. Even if that wasn't the thug's intention. The fact he was dragging her somewhere meant he wanted her alive, but he might accidently shoot her if this turned into an outright scuffle.

Still, something had to be done. And it wouldn't be a shot since Duncan didn't have a clean one. The guy was big, at least a head taller than Joelle, but he was well aware of that and was hunkering down enough so that someone wouldn't put a bullet in his brain. Even Duncan couldn't risk shooting him from behind because the shot could go through him and into Joelle.

Duncan glanced over his shoulder when he sensed the movement. Not another thug but rather Slater who was quietly making his way to the end of the porch next to Duncan. Slater didn't curse when he saw what was playing out in the side yard, but Duncan suspected there was plenty of silent profanity going on. Plenty of questions, too. Well, specifically one question.

How the hell had this snake gotten Joelle out of the cruiser?

He suspected that a trio of gunshots in the same exact spot and a hefty sized gun had something to do with that. The cruiser was bullet-resistant, but shots could still get through. Or maybe something had happened to force Joelle out of the cruiser. Later, he'd want the answers to that, but for now he focused on keeping Joelle alive.

Duncan kept his gun aimed and ready, and he watched as the thug continued to drag Joelle. Duncan had to duck back out of sight, though, when he saw the guy turn to look over his shoulder. Thankfully, Slater did the same.

Since Duncan didn't want to risk the thug seeing him, he just stood there and waited. It felt like a couple of lifetimes. Bad ones. Long grueling moments with the stakes as high as they could get.

When the thug finally came into view, Duncan could see that Joelle was still squirming, still trying to fight this snake with her bare hands. The guy turned to take another glance behind him.

And that's when Duncan knew he had to make his move.

It was a risk. Anything he did at this point would be. But he tossed his own gun aside and launched himself off the porch, right onto the guy's back.

Duncan didn't do anything to break his fall. Or the thug's. Duncan didn't care if he broke the SOB's neck. Instead, he focused on knocking away the gun that was pointed at Joelle. That was the danger now. That had to be his priority. That and making sure Joelle didn't get hurt in what was about to happen next.

The thug grunted in pain when Duncan slammed into him and then yelled when Duncan's tackle rammed him onto the ground. Duncan didn't try to break his own fall but rather Joelle's. He hooked his right arm around her, cushioning her as best he could. He wasn't sure if it worked, but she didn't cry out in pain.

He hoped that wasn't because he'd knocked her unconscious.

But he soon felt her move, scrambling away from them. Good. Though Duncan knew Joelle wouldn't be running. She would no doubt be looking for a way to help him win this fight. He didn't especially want her to do that, but this was Joelle, and there'd be no stopping her.

Cursing, the thug used his elbow and jammed it right into Duncan's jaw. He could have sworn he saw stars, but he didn't let the pain faze him. Couldn't. Duncan grabbed the guy by the throat and punched him right in the face. There was a satisfying popping sound, followed by a spray of blood that let Duncan know he'd broken the man's nose.

Duncan didn't stop there. He rammed his fist into his throat, a maneuver he knew would disable him. And it did. Sputtering out a hoarse sound that was akin to a death rattle the SOB dropped back on the ground, clutching his throat and gasping for air.

Slater was suddenly right there, with his gun aimed at the man. Joelle was, too, and Duncan guessed that she'd grabbed the thug's weapon and was now ready to use it on him. Duncan was hoping that wouldn't be necessary.

"It's best if he's alive so we can question him," Duncan managed to say.

It was a reminder that he thought Joelle needed because she had her steely gaze pinned to her attacker, and the look in her eyes told Duncan she was ready to put a bullet in the guy if he tried to attack them again. The man wouldn't be able to do that, though, because he'd need breath to manage it, and it'd be a while before he got that back. Added to that, it'd be suicide for him to try to move with two cops—no, make that five—holding him at gunpoint.

Duncan got to his feet as fast as he could. "Where's Molly?" he demanded. "Point if you can't speak."

The guy kept groaning, kept gasping, but he still somehow managed a defiant look. Added to that, he tried to mutter something, and Duncan thought it was "go to hell, Sheriff."

So, he wasn't going to bend. Not at the moment, anyway.

"Cuff him and get him to jail," Duncan told Woodrow and Ronnie. "Charge him with attempted kidnapping and murder of a police officer. No bail for that." He turned to Luca and the others. "Keep searching for Molly. She might be in the vehicle this SOB used to get here."

With those steps set in motion, Duncan took hold of Joelle's arm. She was trembling, but she wasn't in shock, and other than a few red marks on her temple and neck, she didn't appear to be injured. He sent up a whole load of thanks for that.

"It's not safe for you to be outside," Duncan reminded her. "This guy might not be alone."

She looked at him, their gazes connecting, and it seemed as if she was using him as some kind of anchor. A way to stop herself from falling apart. It was one thing for a cop to be involved in an altercation, but it was much worse when the cop was the target. And there were no doubts about that. Joelle had been the target.

Again.

Joelle managed a nod, and she lowered the thug's gun to the side of her leg. Duncan eased it from her hand and passed it to Luca.

"Bag that," Duncan told him, and he got Joelle moving. First, up onto the porch and then into the house since it had already been searched.

The moment they were inside, he pulled Joelle into his arms. Yeah, it was unprofessional, but he'd been scared out of his mind about her getting hurt, and he needed this. Mercy, he needed it.

She dropped her weight against him, melting into his arms, and she made a hoarse sound. Not a sob. He figured she'd fight tooth and nail to stop any tears. But she couldn't totally stave off the effects of an adrenaline slam like this.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "All right, dumb question. Of course, you're not okay, but were you hurt?"

Joelle dragged in a few quick breaths. "I wasn't hurt. And the baby's fine because she's moving around."

That gave him a punch of relief that was even more powerful than the elbow slam the thug had managed into Duncan's jaw. He'd still need Joelle examined, which would mean checking the baby's heartbeat and such, but they'd come out of this a whole hell of a lot better than he'd imagined when he'd first seen the thug dragging Joelle through the yard.

"He shot out the window of the cruiser at point-blank range," Joelle said, her voice a shaky tangle of breath and nerves. "But he could have shot me. He didn't. He was going to kidnap me."

Yeah. Duncan had already gone there, and the "there" would give him some hellish memories for the rest of his life.

"With him being alive, we might be able to find out if he's a hired gun," Duncan said. "Or learn if he's actually the one who orchestrated these attacks." If so, the man wasn't on their radar. "Did you recognize him?"

Joelle shook her head, the movement causing his mouth to brush across her forehead. And that caused her to look up at him. Their gazes connected again and held firm.

She had to be experiencing a whirl of emotions right now. He certainly was. And Duncan figured those emotions played into him lowering his head and touching his mouth to hers. Just a touch, but it packed another punch.

Man, did it.

The heat would have rolled right through him, and he wanted to take her mouth as he'd done the night they'd landed in bed. And they would both pay dearly for that lapse, too. Joelle and he already had enough regrets, and Duncan didn't want this to be one of them. He figured Joelle felt the same.

But he was wrong.

Joelle came up on her toes and kissed him. Not a touch this time. It was a whole lot more. It was hard, hungry and filled with so many of those emotions. So much heat. She seemed to be using it as an anchor, too. Or maybe something that would help her remember she was alive.

"Thank you," she said when she finally pulled back. "You saved my life. You saved the baby."

In the moment, it felt as if they'd crossed some kind of threshold, that some of the old guilt might be lessening. But Duncan figured this was literally just that— in the moment —and that once Joelle leveled out from this attack, then she wouldn't want to be kissing him. Well, she might still want the kiss. Might want him . But after a little while, that guilt would hold her back just as it had for the past five months.

Duncan didn't have time to dwell on that. Or on the heat the kiss had notched up. He heard Slater call out his name, and Duncan knew he had to make sure nothing else had gone wrong.

"Wait just inside the door," Duncan told Joelle, and he reached down into his boot and came up with his backup weapon.

Since her gun was still somewhere out in the yard, he wanted her to have a way to protect herself. Of course, he was hoping with all the hopes in the universe that she didn't have to do that. Joelle had already been through way too much.

Duncan opened the back door and stepped onto the porch. He had his own gun ready as well, but he didn't see any immediate signs of danger. However, Slater, Woodrow and Ronnie were hurrying toward an outbuilding that Duncan knew Joelle's father had used to store ATVs and other equipment. At least Duncan thought that's where they were going, but they stopped about six feet in front of the shed.

"Ronnie spotted this," Slater added, reaching down and picking up a piece of green fabric that was almost the same color as the grass.

While Joelle did as he'd asked and remained in the doorway, Duncan went down the steps to have a closer look. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like the torn sleeve of a pajama top. Since Molly had been kidnapped when she likely still would have been in bed, the fabric could belong to her.

Slater went to his knees and began pulling at something. Some kind of flat circular metal cover the size of a tire. It was obviously heavy because Slater was struggling with it, and Ronnie dropped down to help him.

Behind him, Joelle gasped, and Duncan whirled around to make sure no one had come up behind her. She was alone, but she had gone pale, and she pressed her fingers to her trembling mouth.

"It's an old well," she said. "It terrified me when I was a kid, and Dad had that cover put on it to make sure no one fell in. It weighs too much for kids to move it. But..." She stopped, groaned. "But a kidnapper could have done it. Molly could be in there."

Hell. That got Duncan hurrying out into the yard to help them.

"The cover's been moved recently," Slater said, still focusing on the task. "You can tell from the grass around it. But whoever moved it put it back in place."

Duncan growled out another "hell," aloud this time. And he hoped if Molly was in there, she was still alive. By the time Duncan reached them, Slater and Ronnie had already dragged the cover to the side.

"Molly?" Slater called out, looking down into the gaping hole in the ground.

The opening was definitely wide enough that a person could be shoved in there, but if Joelle's dad had had it capped up like this, it had to be deep. Probably deep enough to kill a person if they fell or were pushed in.

"Molly?" Slater shouted again.

No response. Not from the well, anyway. But Duncan heard something coming from the outbuilding. Not a voice but a barely audible thump. It was enough to get the three of them running toward it.

"Woodrow and Sonya, keep an eye on Joelle," Duncan told the deputies who had just come out of the barn. They'd obviously been searching it for more gunmen and Molly.

Slater reached the outbuilding first, and Ronnie and Duncan both readied their weapons while Slater threw open the door and then immediately darted to the side in case someone was about to fire at him.

But no shots came.

A sound did, though. Another of those thumps, and when Duncan looked inside, he saw Molly on the floor.

Alive .

Duncan couldn't add the "and well" part to that, though. Her eyes were wide. Her forehead, smeared with dirt and maybe even some blood. Her hair was a tangled halo around her face. But she was very much alive.

He quickly saw that Molly was gagged and tied up, and she was bumping the side of her leg against the tire of an ATV, the only movement she could have managed, considering the way she was positioned in the shed. That bumping had likely caused the sounds they'd heard. They would have no doubt found her in the search, but that had allowed them to get to her even sooner.

Slater hurried to her, easing down her gag while Ronnie got to work on the ropes around her feet. Duncan called 911 for an ambulance. The moment the gag was off her mouth, Molly cried out in pain.

"Hospital," she managed to say. "I'm in labor."