Page 13 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

His gaze swept the room, then locked onto Deacon with an intensity that made the air shift.

Deacon didn’t miss that Jessa went rigid beside him. It was subtle, most people wouldn’t have caught it, but Deacon did. Her spine straightened. Her hand hovered near the pocket where she kept her phone, as if she was bracing for impact.

Why?

He filed the question away. Now wasn’t the time.

Noah came to a stop in front of them, his gaze sweeping over Deacon with a rapid tactical assessment, checking injuries, posture, clarity of eyes. The man didn’t miss much.

“Jessa,” Noah greeted. “I was sorry to hear about your mother’s passing.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice strained and barely audible.

Noah didn’t respond to that strain. Maybe because he was already shifting his attention to Deacon. “How are you?”

Deacon adjusted his stance, ignoring the pull of stitches. “Still standing.”

“That’s not much of a bar,” Noah said on a sigh. “But I’ll take it for now. What the hell happened out there?”

Before Deacon could answer, he felt Corbin shift beside him, a subtle lean forward, an eager tilt of his head. Waiting. Listening. He wanted details. And Deacon was in no mood to give him front-row seats.

Deacon gave Corbin a hard look. “You can go ahead to the sheriff’s office and give your statement about the attack.”

Corbin’s lips twitched downward. “I figured I’d stick around. Hear what the hell this is all about.”

“Not happening.” Deacon jerked his chin toward Deputy Carver. “Jack, get Corbin’s statement. Everything he saw, everything he heard, every damn detail he thinks is relevant.”

Jack stepped forward with a nod. “Yes, sir.”

Corbin didn’t move at first. His jaw flexed, annoyance flashing across his face. “You can’t seriously expect me to walk away while—”

“I can,” Deacon cut in. “And I do.”

Corbin stared at him for a long beat, frustration simmering in his eyes. Then he huffed out a breath that was half growl, half surrender.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But I expect a call when you put the pieces together.”

“Noted,” Deacon replied, which was as close to hell no as he could give without starting another argument.

“You want me to have a cruiser sent over for you?” Jack asked Deacon.

Deacon remembered then that his own cruiser had been wrecked. And was no doubt evidence at what was now a crime scene.

“He’s probably in no shape to drive,” Jessa said before Deacon could reply. “I’ll take him wherever he needs to go.”

Deacon couldn’t help but notice that didn’t sound like a kind offer. More of a way for her to keep an eye on him.”

“It appears I have a ride,” Deacon told Jack. “Just focus on getting that statement.”

Jack nodded and then motioned toward the hallway. “This way,” he instructed Corbin.

Corbin threw one last look at Jessa. Something unreadable, something that made Deacon’s neck itch. Then, he followed the deputy with long, annoyed strides down the hall. The moment he disappeared out the ER doors, the air shifted. Quieter. Heavier.

As soon as Corbin disappeared around the corner, Noah turned back to them, all business. “What happened out there?” he asked.

Deacon let out a slow, steadying breath. “Ambush on the farm road near your headquarters. Sniper in the trees. My cruiser was hit, and I went off the road. Jessa got there in time to get me behind cover before the shooter closed in.”

Noah’s jaw tightened. “You got eyes on the shooter?”