Page 43 of Dusty
“This doesn’t end well for you, Madison,” he said calmly. “Your estate is surrounded. Your security team is neutralized. Chicago PD is on standby. You can’t escape.”
Madison’s laugh was bitter. “You think I haven’t prepared for contingencies? There are still men loyal to me in this house. We’re at an impasse.”
Sharon’s eyes met Dusty’s, and something passed between them—trust, determination, and something deeper that neither had put into words yet.
“The evidence,” Sharon said suddenly, her voice steady despite the knife at her throat. “Cooper, it was never about the evidence.”
Madison’s attention shifted slightly. “What?”
“I didn’t take your files to expose you,” she continued. “I took them to protect myself. After what happened to Vincent when he confronted you, told you he wanted out—”
“Vincent was careless and stupid,” Madison snapped.
“Vincent was murdered,” Sharon countered. “You thought you’d be able to control me, like you did him. But I didn’t do what you planned, did I? I took everything I found, everything you foolishly left on your laptop, and I ran.”
Dusty watched as Sharon’s hand slowly moved toward her side, where Madison’s hand was pressed against her stomach, holding her in place with the knife so very close to her delicate skin.
“Those files were my insurance policy,” she continued. “As long as I had them, I thought you wouldn’t come after me. But I forgot something: how vicious you are when you think someone crosses you.”
Her fingers inched closer to Madison’s hand.
“Enough,” Madison growled. “Give me the files.”
Sharon’s eyes locked with Dusty’s again. “Now,” she whispered.
In one fluid motion, Sharon slammed her arm back, her elbow connecting with Cooper’s gut, and twisted away from his hold as Dusty lunged forward. Madison’s slashing motion with the knife went wide, as Sharon fell to her knees. Rafe fired a tranquilizer dart that caught Madison in the shoulder, causing him to stagger backward.
But Madison wasn’t done. He raised his arm, slashing it downward toward Sharon, who knelt helplessly at his feet. Dusty threw himself forward, tackling Madison to the ground. The knife skittered across the floor as they grappled, Madison’s strength fueled by desperation and rage. Dusty’s fist slammed into Madison’s jaw with a solid thunk.
“It’s over, Madison,” Rafe called out, approaching cautiously.
Madison’s movements were already slowing as the tranquilizer took effect. His eyes, filled with hatred, remained fixed on Sharon. “You’ll never be safe,” he slurred. “Never…”
His body went limp beneath Dusty, who quickly moved away, rushing to Sharon’s side. She was trembling but unharmed as he pulled her into his arms.
“You came for me,” she whispered against his chest.
“Always,” Dusty promised, holding her tighter, “no matter what.”
The sound of boots on marble announced the arrival of the rest of the team, followed shortly by Chicago PD. As officers swarmed the mansion, Dusty held Sharon close, unwilling to let her go even as paramedics insisted on checking her for injuries.
“The evidence,” she said suddenly, looking up at him. “Dusty, I left the evidence in the barn. Lennox’s men didn’t find it.”
“I know,” he replied. “I found it after I came to. It’s safe. Antonio gave all the information, the printed reports, and the flash drive to Derrick Williamson. He’s in charge of the Austin FBI office. He’s also Daisy’s husband, and somebody you can trust. You don’t have to worry anymore. You don’t have to run anymore. Sharon, sweetheart, you’re safe.”
Relief washed across her face, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Can we go home now?”
Dusty pressed his lips to her forehead, thinking of Shiloh Springs and the life waiting for them there, a life they could finally begin together, without shadows or secrets.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Let’s go home.”
As they walked out of Madison’s mansion, Dusty held Sharon close against his side, her strength returning with each step away from her captivity. The night air had never tasted sweeter, carrying with it the promise of tomorrow, and all the tomorrows after.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHRISTMAS EVE
The Boudreau BigHouse glowed like a beacon against the dark Texas night. Every window radiated golden light, and the massive Christmas tree visible through the front picture window sparkled with hundreds of twinkling lights. Each branch had been lovingly decorated with ornaments the children had made throughout the many years they’d lived there, each one obviously cherished and lovingly preserved. Outside, the driveway overflowed with trucks and SUVs belonging to the large family who had gathered to celebrate both the holiday and the safe return of their own.
