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I stepped out and closed the door quietly behind me.
Maybe he saw a bear or something.
Be quiet. Just in case, Valerie.
*Pow*
A second gunshot rang out through the night, and my head snapped down to the barn. Logic deserted me as I ran down the steps and down the hill. My bare feet pounded against the cool, damp ground. When I hit gravel, I didn’t even notice the pain.
I was too afraid.
I was afraid for myself.
I was afraid for the little boy with the sunshine smile.
I was afraid my grumpy cowboy would be hurt.
I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, I just needed to know Denver was okay.
Now he’s Denver? What happened to Mr. Langston?
My speed picked up going down the hill, and I headed straight for the back of the barn, retracing my steps from memory. I stopped about halfway back and pressed against the cool, red wood of the barn.
“Please. Please, be okay,” I whispered.
I didn’t have a phone—I didn’t even know where my phone was. There was a landline in that gorgeous kitchen, by the fridge. Dread pooled in my stomach.
I really hoped I didn’t have to run back up that hill to use that phone.
Shaking my head, I willed myself to focus and moved again. My feet were going to hurt in the morning. One of them might be bleeding. I suppressed a wince as I slowly walked the rest of the way. Once I was at the corner, I poked my head around, just as third shot rang out.
I slapped my palm over my mouth, swallowing my scream.
Three gunshots.
Oh God,oh God.
There was no one at the back of the barn, but there was bright light illuminating the other side of the bunkhouse. I quickly scanned the area in front of me and darted across space.
Then, I heard a pain-filled grunt—that was a man.
Oh God, oh God.
My feet were moving faster, and I rounded the corner of the bunkhouse. I came to an abrupt halt at the sight in front of me.
My heart imploded.
My stomach dropped to the floor.
Suddenly, I was very, very afraid—formyself.
There was a clean-cut man, dressed in a blue suit. He’d fallen to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth. He coughed violently, blood and spit spraying the dirt below him. His eyes drifted up to the man standing in front of him before he fell completely, his face smashing into ground with a heavy thud.
His head landed at pair of cowboy boots.
My eyes dared to move up, over the backs of thick, jean covered legs, to a dark coat that held broad shoulders underneath. Sitting on top of those shoulders was a head of dark hair.
That head turned to me.
