Peyton’s heart thundered against her ribcage as she rolled off Dawson while reaching for her weapon. The grass was cold against her overheated skin, and the echo of Dawson’s lips against hers felt like a distant memory, even though it’d only just happened. Her gaze scanned the yard, searching for the sniper. Moonlight trickled over the trees and the wide expanse of the driveway leading to the empty country road.
“Do you see him?” Dawson kept his voice pitched low. He was crouched beside her in the shadows of the carport, weapon in hand.
“No.” Frustration colored her voice. “I’m not even sure where the shots came from.”
Dawson reached for his dropped jacket and removed his cell phone from one of the pockets. He hit a button and a second later said, “Dad, we’re okay, but stay inside. The ranch isn’t secure.” He paused and then whispered, “Understood.”
He hung up and said, “Dad called 911. Backup is on the way.”
That brought Peyton little comfort. “He was aiming for you.” She kept her attention on the yard, hunting for movement. “He used a scope with a laser, so he may not even be on theproperty.” Her attention was drawn to the house across the street. It was roughly 250 yards away, but still within striking range for a sniper with some experience. A decent hunter, with a good scope, could hit a human-sized target with little difficulty. “Your neighbors? The second-story window has a clear line of sight.”
“Possibly.”
Sirens wailed as patrol cars approached the ranch. Dawson and Peyton stayed where they were, in the shadows, until responding officers arrived. One of the patrol cars drove off the driveway into the grass and came to a stop, providing a shield between the carport and the house. Peyton recognized the driver. Officer Tucker Colburn. He’d been the first responding officer after the kidnapping attempt too.
Tucker opened the driver’s side door, gun drawn. “I’m covering you.”
Dawson rose, taking Peyton’s hand. “Come on.”
Staying low and using the patrol car as cover, they started for the safety of the house. With every step, Peyton expected shots to ring out. It was only after they crossed the threshold that the tension in her shoulders dropped.
Raymond came around the corner from the rear bedroom, wearing his pajamas and holding a shotgun. Relief creased his features. “Praise God. Either of you hurt?”
“No.” Dawson released Peyton’s hand. “Mom and Grace?”
“Sheltering in the bathroom.”
Dawson gave a sharp nod and then turned to Peyton. “Stay here. I’m going to help secure the property.”
“No.” She blocked him with her body. “The sniper was aiming for you. Going out there only endangers your officers. Give them time to clear the property and check the house next door.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m not hiding in here like a coward.”
“Then I’m going with you.” Her tone brooked no argument. She was playing dirty, but felt no regret about it. Dawson wasn’t thinking clearly, and his stubbornness would get him killed. “Either we both go, or we both stay. Make your choice.”
His cheeks heated with fury, and he didn’t answer for a long moment. When he did, it was through gritted teeth. “Fine. I’ll stay.”
Dawson spun away from her, marching to the window near the door, and parted the curtain with one finger. He peeked out into the yard. Then he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Based on his half of the conversation, he was speaking with Tucker.
Peyton trembled. She’d put on a brave front for Dawson because that’s what was required to keep him in place, but terror settled into her like cold water. Why had the sniper gone for Dawson and not her? Was Cade sending a message?
Raymond joined her, a reassuring hand coming to rest on her shoulder. “Are you all right, darlin’?”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I've pulled danger straight to your family, and I'm so sorry for it.”
“You have done nothing wrong, so don’t you dare apologize.” Raymond pulled her under the shelter of his fatherly embrace. “Ellen and I consider you family. You’ll always have a place here with us.”
His words brought a sting of tears to her eyes. The truth was, she wasn’t their family anymore. She’d ruined all that when she divorced Dawson. Their passionate kiss outside might’ve revealed the truth—that they still cared deeply for one another—but it didn’t erase the pain of their breakup. Could he ever trust her again?
Could they repair what they’d broken?
The swirling questions made her head hurt, and suddenly she felt exhausted. Or maybe it was the crash after the adrenaline rush. Either way, standing in the living room watching Dawson pace angrily in front of the windows wouldn’t do one lick of good. She hugged Raymond and then said, “I’m going to check on Ellen and Grace.”
She went down the hallway to the master bedroom. A handmade quilt covered the four-poster bed, and photographs of a marriage and a life with children lined the walls. It was cozy and sweet, and before her heart could ache too much, Peyton focused on the door leading to the bathroom. She knocked. “Ellen, it’s Peyton. You can come out.”
The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Ellen, wrapped in a soft robe, her hair in rollers, held Grace. The baby was awake, her happy babbling a stark contrast to the chaos happening outside. Peyton’s heart melted at the sight. She reached for Grace, and when Ellen handed the baby over, cuddled her close. She sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. They were all safe. All okay.
She sank down onto the vanity seat. “Dawson and Raymond are in the living room, waiting for the patrol officers to clear the property. I think the sniper was across the street, at the Sutters’ house.”
