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TWO
Chase McKenzie grunted as Faith’s elbow landed in his rib cage. He immediately released her shoulders, her terrified scream shocking in its intensity. She spun to face him. Chase held up his hands in the classic sign of surrender. “It’s just me. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
His gaze swept over her, his mind registering several things at the same time. Faith’s gorgeous honey-colored eyes were wide with fear. Strands of sable hair had floated free of her askew ponytail, her breathing was ragged as if she’d run a thousand miles, and clutched to her chest was a bundle that suspiciously looked like a baby. The tiny creature wailed as if to answer Chase’s silent question before he’d asked it.
Yet. Definitely a baby.
Something was very wrong. Faith was unflappable. Levelheaded, intelligent, and kindhearted. As the owner of a daycare, she spent her days comforting babies and wrangling toddlers with grace and skill. The very thought of handling one kid was enough to have Chase shaking in his boots, let alone dozens. He’d never seen Faith breathless and afraid. And where on earth did she get a baby from?
“What happened?” His attention shot to the area behind Faith. The kitchen was empty. Still, his hand automatically reached for the weapon normally holstered on his hip. His fingers only found the fabric of his worn blue jeans. He was on vacation. Chase was an officer with the Cutler Police Department, but a friend from college was getting married over the weekend and he’d requested time off to attend.
Faith sucked in a breath and rocked the infant. Her gaze fixed on the picture window overlooking the backyard. “I found this baby in the tack room. I don’t know where she came from, but then a man appeared and he attacked me. I escaped and ran to the house.”
A familiar dose of rage pumped through Chase’s veins. Faith sparked his protective instincts. Always had. They’d been close for as long as he could remember. Their mothers were best friends, which made Faith a part of his childhood—a part of him—in an indescribable way. She was like his left arm or the air in his lungs. Vital. Chase wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. Ever.
What Chase wouldn’t allow himself to think about was the deeper meaning of his feelings for Faith. They were friends. That’s all they would ever be. Chase had never been—and would never be—good enough for her. They both knew it. Faith cared deeply about him, that much was certain, but she’d never once looked at him with any romantic interest.
His gaze swept over her again. “Are you injured?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Is the man who attacked you still in the barn?” His tone was sharp, the question coming out clipped.
If Faith was bothered by it, it didn’t show in her expression. Her gaze stayed locked on the backyard. “I don’t know. I stabbed him with the sharp end of my pitchfork, so it’s possible.” She winced. “He screamed.”
Chase felt no sympathy for the intruder. Faith had every right to defend herself by whatever means necessary. Imagining how terrifying the encounter must’ve been for her heated his blood. And what about the baby? Where had she come from?
A thousand more questions ran through his mind, but Chase held his tongue. There would be time for explanations later. Right now, he needed to arrest Faith’s attacker.
Chase bent over and removed his backup weapon from the holster on his ankle. He didn’t carry his service weapon while off duty, but he was never unarmed. “Call the police, Faith, and lock the door behind me.”
She clutched his arm. “Shouldn’t you wait for backup?”
He should, but Faith lived a good twenty minutes from the police station. The intruder in her barn could be long gone before they arrive. A man willing to attack a woman on her own property needed to be behind bars for the safety of the entire town.
Chase briefly touched her fingers before shaking off her hold. “Lock the door, Faith.”
Without another word, he slipped out of the house onto the porch. Scamper greeted him with a nose bump. Normally, he would stop to rub the old dog’s ears, but Chase didn’t have the luxury now. He also didn’t want the Lab getting hurt. “Stay, Scamp.”
Chickens scattered as Chase ran across the yard toward the barn. Sunshine warmed his shoulders, but wintery bluster and thunderclouds forming in the distance promised more rain. More cold. Forecasters were predicting snow for Christmas.
The barn doors were open, but no one was visible. Chase gripped his gun with both hands. He used the side of the barn for cover, listening for any sounds emanating from inside.
Nothing.
He swung around the corner, weapon raised. His gaze swept the interior of the barn in quick snaps. A pitchfork lay on the ground in front of Poppy’s stall and a dark red stain dotted the concrete. A trail of blood led to the opposite door of the barn. Chase followed it, careful to keep his senses on alert, but his instincts said the intruder had escaped.
His conclusion was confirmed when he reached the other side of the barn. Tamped-down grass and broken branches indicated someone had plowed through the bushes at the edge of the woods. There was a farm road on the other side of the trees. It was likely the attacker had escaped in his car. Chase wanted to look for tire tracks, but he’d wait for the other officers to arrive. He didn’t want to leave Faith and the baby alone.
He returned to the interior of the barn. Poppy hung her head over the stall door, and he stroked her nose before crouching to examine the pitchfork. Two of the prongs had blood on them, but only at the edges. The attacker was hurt, but not badly enough to prevent him from getting away. He might need a doctor though. Stitches.
Chase jogged back to the house and knocked on the door.
Faith appeared, the baby in her arms, relief flashing across her beautiful face. She unlocked the door and opened it. “The police are on their way. He got away?”
“Afraid so.” He holstered his weapon. “Explain to me exactly what happened.”
Faith ran through the chain of events, starting with the boot prints and ending with the assault in the barn. Every word from her mouth made Chase’s concern grow. He assessed the scattered objects in the tack room, his stomach sinking. Then he rejoined her where she waited outside the barn.
