Page 32 of The Sheriff's Baby

“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 wanthim. 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.”

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