Chapter Nine
Dalton couldn’t get out of the house fast enough after the gunshot that shocked the hell out of him.
“Hide in the closet until I come back for you,” he’d said to Chase, tucking him deep into the walk-in.
Older homes in Texas were known for their closet space.
The fact came in handy when Dalton convinced the boy to find a spot in the very back where no one would find him.
Dalton dismissed the fear that he would be shot and the kid would starve to death before anyone found him. Besides, Blakely knew Chase was upstairs. She would give her life before anything happened to that child.
Right now, Dalton needed to focus all his energy and attention on capturing the shooter.
He ran toward the neighbor’s house on the left to circle around and, hopefully, not be seen by the perp.
Whoever it was, he was determined. Striking again this soon was a sign of his desperation.
Bringing the fight to her doorstep sent a strong message…
I can get to you anywhere you are. No place is safe.
Not even your home in your gated community.
That was the problem with gates. They might keep vehicles out, but a determined individual would walk into the community. Probably scale a wall or fence if there was one. So, no, they didn’t work. He imagined they kept out folks who handed out flyers, but they weren’t the danger.
As he rounded the neighbor’s home, a dog barked. Dalton cursed. The noise would draw attention, giving away his location. Worse yet, the killer could be closing in on Blakely’s home right now.
Dalton’s training kept him from going to a possibly injured person instead of going after a perp. A quick glance into the family room had revealed Blakely and her sister hunkering down. The fact she hadn’t called out for help most likely meant they were both fine.
Blakely would also know to immediately call 911.
As he doubled back, deciding to go round the other side of her residence, he heard the first emergency sirens. That was fast. Then again, folks didn’t spend all this money to live in a protected neighborhood without law enforcement nearby.
A private-security vehicle came blaring up in front of the house as Dalton crossed the front lawn. He didn’t have time to reach for his badge without possibly being shot as the for-hire armed security guard hopped out of his vehicle, wedged in the door and yelled, “Stop or I’ll shoot!”
“My name is Marshal Remington,” Dalton said, both hands high in the air.
“Toss your weapon,” the rent-a-cop ordered.
“I’m a US marshal,” Dalton continued as the front door swung open.
“He’s okay,” Blakely shouted. “You got the wrong man.”
The security guy offered a quick apology before heading in the direction Blakely urged.
Then Dalton got a good look at her. Saw blood. “Where are you shot?”
“It’s Bethany,” she said with a vulnerability in her voice that brought out all his protective instincts. “She’s unconscious. Help. Please.”
“Let’s get some pressure on the wound,” he said as he bolted toward the front door. The moment of relief that Blakely wasn’t hurt was quickly replaced with the fear a seven-year-old was about to lose his mother.
The vise tightened around Dalton’s chest as he ran inside and to Bethany. A dishrag was soaked with blood as it pulsed from the base of her neck on the right side of her body.
“Her pulse is weak,” Blakely said as she dropped down beside her sister, who was lying on the carpet, limp.
“Let’s get the bleeding under control before we do anything else,” he said, taking a spot on the opposite side of Bethany. He put pressure on the wound using the dishcloth.
“I can’t lose her.” Blakely’s voice was low, and there was a quiet desperation that ripped his heart out. “Or Chase.” She paused. “Chase!” She gasped. “Where is he?”
“Hiding in the back of his closet,” Dalton said, hoping the explanation was enough to reassure her that Chase was fine. Just in case, he added, “He’ll wait there until I come for him.”
“He can’t see her like this,” she said. “It’ll devastate him.”
“The bleeding is under control for now,” he said to Blakely, who was clearly in a mild state of shock.
A knock at the door followed by the words “Emergency personnel coming inside” was the equivalent of Christmas morning back at the ranch.
“In the family room,” Dalton shouted as Blakely practically jumped to her feet before bolting toward the front door.
In the next few seconds, the cavalry arrived. As Bethany was attended to by a pair of EMTs, Dalton disappeared upstairs to check on Chase.
The little boy was hiding, as he was told to, in the far reaches of the closet. He’d stacked a pile of dirty clothes on top of himself for further camouflage. The kiddo was smart and had good survival instincts.
Dalton had been surviving on his own ever since his mother walked out. Would Chase feel those same feelings of shame and abandonment? Wonder what the hell he’d done so wrong that his own mother would turn her back on him?
The vise tightened once again.
“Hey, buddy,” Dalton began when Blakely showed up on his heels. “It’s safe to come out now.”
A shirt flew across the closet as the mound of clothes erupted and the little boy emerged.
“That was fun,” Chase stated, chest puffed out, completely unaware of the danger they’d all been in. “Can we do it again?”
“Not right now,” Blakely said. “But I promise we’ll have more fun later.”
Chase brushed himself off and ran into his aunt’s arms.
“I have something to tell you,” Blakely said. The sight of the two of them was enough to melt the coldest glacier.
“Are we playing another game?” Chase asked, hope in his big eyes.
“No,” Blakely hedged. “This is serious, but I want you to know that everything is going to be okay.”
Chase’s smile faded.
“Your mommy has been in an accident,” Blakely said before quickly adding, “She’s going to the hospital, where doctors will take good care of her. I don’t want you to worry one bit. Okay?” To an adult, those words would be a sign of just how bad the situation was. To a kid, they offered reassurance.
“What happened to Mommy?”
“She got hurt and started bleeding,” Blakely explained in terms a child could understand. She was good with Chase. For a split second, Dalton saw her with their kids.
Hold on there, dude. Getting ahead of yourself. You have never wanted children.
What the hell was up with the vision?
It had to be the thought of losing his grandparents weighing on his mind more than he wanted to admit.
Dalton reassured himself daily that they were strong and would pull through this.
With each passing day, his resolve faded a little more.
Facing losing them wasn’t something Dalton was ready to do.
Was this his brain’s way to force him to face facts?
His grandparents might not make it, which brought up a whole host of feelings.
Cell in hand, he searched for good news from the home front.
While he was wishing, he hoped the officers outside would catch the perp.
More than anything, he wanted to be able to tell Blakely that she was safe.
Chase had already burrowed himself deep inside Dalton’s chest. He wanted to deliver the good news that the little boy was out of danger too. As well as Bethany.
Instead, his world was collapsing around him.
* * *
Disappointment and shame shrouded Blakely at the fact she hadn’t been able to keep her sister safe. At least Chase was safe. For now. She hated those two words.
“Can we go see Mommy?” Chase asked.
At a loss for words, Blakely stuttered. “I—um—”
“Think it might be best to let her get some rest so she’ll be good and awake when we stop by later,” Dalton said, saving the day.
Blakely wasn’t normally at a loss for words. She appreciated the save and shot a quick thank-you with her eyes.
The smile he gave her in return caused her stomach to perform a somersault routine. Dalton had a surprisingly calming effect on her despite the electricity charging the air between them. Their chemistry was undeniable.
But chemistry wasn’t everything. Bethany and Greg’s had been obvious when they were in school.
But she hadn’t witnessed it for a long time, now that she really thought about it.
They’d shifted into parent and business-owner roles, and all the heat was sucked out of their relationship.
The thoughts were random at a time like this, but the brain had ideas of its own, bouncing around to different topics.
It seemed to be she’d find solutions when she least thought about a situation.
Always, the back of her mind was fitting together information bits to explain things she didn’t immediately understand.
“Okay,” Chase said, his spindly arms wrapped around Blakely’s neck as he held on. She patted his back.
“What do you think about going somewhere else to play for a little while?” Dalton asked.
“Where?” A little of Chase’s normal spunk laced the question.
“How about we pretend to be policemen?” Dalton said.
She saw where he was going with this. They would have to go to the substation to make reports.
Plus, it was probably best to get Chase out of the house before he saw the blood on the carpet.
Her window was in need of repair before anyone could stay here again.
The thought of someone targeting her…her home…
sat heavy in her thoughts. The perp wanted to take her out pretty badly if he was willing to come back so soon.
Or did he have places set up in and around her home in case the attack didn’t go as planned out front?
Less than twenty-four hours had passed since the attack in her driveway.
The perp had been clear about what he wanted: “You!”