Chapter Eleven #3
They fell into silence, the weight of their situation hanging between them.
Three hours suddenly felt like an eternity.
Three hours for Madison’s men to pick up their trail again.
Three hours alone with Sharon, trying to ignore the pull he felt toward her, a pull that had been there from the moment she’d walked up to his cruiser that fateful night and he’d driven her into Shiloh Springs, cold, desperate, and alone.
“Dusty,” Sharon said finally, her voice soft but determined. “If we don’t make it out of this—”
“We will,” he cut in, more harshly than he intended. He softened his tone. “We will.”
She reached out, her fingers brushing against his calloused hand. “I need to say this. Just in case.”
Their eyes met, and Dusty felt something shift between them, like a door opening that neither of them could close again.
“These past few days,” she continued, “finding myself in Shiloh Springs, scared out of my mind…you’ve been the one thing keeping me sane. The one person I could trust.”
Dusty swallowed hard, fighting to maintain his composure. “Just doing my job,” he said, but they both knew it was more than that.
“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 limited ammunition, 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.”
The pain in her eyes nearly broke him, but she gave a small nod.
Dusty took a deep breath, then fired two shots toward the open door, not aiming to hit, just to scatter them. Shouts erupted outside, followed by return fire that splintered the wood around them. Dusty pushed Sharon toward the back door as he fired again, providing cover.
“Go!” he hissed.
He saw her hesitate for just a moment before she crouched low and made for the exit. Relief flooded through him as she slipped through the door, but it was short-lived.
A crashing sound came from the far side of the barn—another entry point he hadn’t seen. Two men burst through, weapons raised. Dusty spun, firing instinctively, catching one in the shoulder. But before he could adjust his aim, white-hot pain exploded in his thigh as a bullet found its mark.
Dusty staggered, firing his last round as he fell back against the hay bales. The barn swam before his eyes, pain radiating up from his leg. He tried to push himself up, to reach for the backup weapon in his ankle holster, but a boot came down hard on his wrist.
“Stay down, hero,” Lennox said, standing over him, gun pointed at Dusty’s chest.
Through the haze of pain, Dusty saw movement at the back door. Sharon. She’d come back. No, he thought desperately. Run.
But it was too late. Two more of Madison’s men appeared, dragging Sharon between them. Blood trickled down her lip, her eyes blazing with fury as she struggled against their grip.
“Look what we found trying to circle around,” one of them said, shoving Sharon forward.
Lennox smiled, the expression never reaching his cold eyes. “Perfect. The boss will be pleased.” He knelt beside Dusty, pressing the barrel of his gun against Dusty’s temple. “Where’s the evidence, Warner?”
Dusty glared up at him, saying nothing.
“Have it your way,” Lennox said, and swung the butt of his gun. Pain exploded across Dusty’s temple, and the world tilted sideways.
Through rapidly fading consciousness, Dusty watched as they dragged Sharon toward the door, her eyes locked on his, filled with terror and regret. He tried to call out, to reach for her, but his body wouldn’t respond.
“I’m sorry, Dusty, so sorry.”
“We’ll find it without your help,” Lennox’s voice seemed to come from far away. “Search the place. Tear it apart if you have to.”
The last thing Dusty saw before darkness claimed him was Sharon being forced out of the barn, the crate with the hidden evidence untouched behind them.
Then nothing.