Page 32 of Dusty
“No,” Sharon shook her head. “When this is over, when Madison is behind bars…I don’t want to just walk away.”
The admission hung in the air between them, vulnerable and raw. Dusty’s heart hammered against his ribs as he struggled to find the right words. The solemnness of the moment deserved total honesty, total trust in a woman he barely knew, yet felt like he’d know his whole life.
“Sharon, I—” he started, then paused, gathering his thoughts. “I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long time. Maybe ever. And heaven knows the timing couldn’t be worse, but…”
“But?” she prompted, her eyes never leaving his face.
“But I can’t stop thinking about what might be possible. After. You and me, in Shiloh Springs…that is if you’re planning on staying.”
A smile spread across her face, tentative but genuine. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. When I came to Shiloh Springs,I was just looking for a place to hide. But now…it feels like somewhere I could belong. Somewhere I could build a life.”
“With me?” Dusty asked, his voice rough with barely contained emotion.
Sharon’s hand tightened around his. “With you.”
The moment hung suspended between them, fragile and precious. Dusty leaned forward, drawn to her like a magnet, caution momentarily forgotten. Sharon met him halfway, her lips soft against his, a promise of something worth fighting for. Dusty deepened the kiss, pulling Sharon closer, his heart beating a staccato rhythm in his chest as he poured everything into the kiss.
When they pulled apart, Dusty saw in her eyes the same mixture of hope and fear that churned inside him. Hope for what might be, fear that they wouldn’t live to see it. He straightened, his resolve firming. There was no way he was going to let Madison win, take this special woman away from him.
“When we get out of here,” he said, cupping her face with his hand, “when this is all over, I want to do this right. Take you to dinner at Juanita’s place in town. Walk with you along the creek when the fireflies come out.”
Sharon leaned into his touch. “I’d like that. All of it.”
Dusty was about to respond when a sound outside caught his attention—the crunch of tires on gravel, still distant but approaching. His body tensed, instantly alert.
“Stay here,” he whispered, moving to the barn door and peering through a crack in the weathered wood.
A black sedan made its way slowly up the long-abandoned driveway, dust billowing behind it. Dusty’s stomach dropped. It wasn’t the black SUV that had been trailing them in San Antonio, but he doubted total strangers would be scoping out an abandoned barn. It was too soon for Rafe. Too deliberate to be a random visitor.
“They’ve found us,” he said, turning back to Sharon, who was already on her feet, eyes wide with alarm. “We need to move. Now.”
He grabbed the canvas bag with the evidence, thrust it into Sharon’s hands, and led her toward the back of the barn where he’d spotted a small door earlier. “If anything happens, you run. Head for the tree line to the north. Keep that evidence safe, no matter what.”
Sharon clutched the bag to her chest. “I’m not leaving you behind.”
“This isn’t a discussion,” Dusty said firmly, checking his service weapon. Full clip, but probably not enough if Madison had sent a full team. “The evidence is what matters. It’s what will put Madison away.”
Before Sharon could argue further, the sound of car doors slamming echoed from outside. Dusty motioned for her to get low, guiding her behind a stack of old hay bales.
“Lift up that crate,” he whispered urgently, pointing to one of the wooden boxes they’d been sitting on. “Hide the bag underneath. If they take us, they might not find it there. Sharon, if something goes wrong, I promise I’ll come for you. I will always come for you, I’ll find you no matter where Madison takes you. Understand?”
Sharon hesitated before she nodded, then quickly slid the bag under the crate, making sure it was completely hidden from view. “What now?”
“Now we try to hold them off until Rafe gets here,” Dusty said, positioning himself where he could see both entrances to the barn. “Get behind me.”
They waited in tense silence as footsteps approached outside, multiple sets by the sound of it. Dusty’s mind raced through their options, each one worse than the last: fight with limitedammunition, run with nowhere to go, hide in a building with too many entry points.
The barn door creaked open, and Dusty steadied his weapon, heart pounding in his ears. A shaft of fading sunlight cut across the dirt floor, followed by the silhouette of a man with a gun.
“I know you’re in here, Warner,” a voice called out. “No need to make this harder than it has to be.”
“That’s Troy Lennox, one of Madison’s top enforcers,” Sharon whispered softly behind him.
“Sharon,” Dusty whispered, “when I create a distraction, you slip out the back.”
“No—” she began, but he silenced her with a look.
“Please,” he said. “Trust me.”
