Hook, Line and Shotgun Bride - Cassie Miles Mills & Boon Intrigue

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In the entry to the kitchen, her hand paused above the light switch. She saw a reflection in the window above the sink. A light? But that didn’t make sense. That window faced the backyard. She squinted hard and focused on the dark beyond the glass panes.

      She saw two lights, side by side. As she watched, they grew larger. Like the headlights on a truck. A ghostly truck. The lights bore down on her. Closer and closer. Coming right at her. They were going to crash through the window.

      Reflexively, she threw up her hands.

      When she looked again, the lights were gone.

      A hallucination? No, it was too real. She knew what she’d seen. Without turning on the overhead light, she crept across the tile floor, leaned over the kitchen sink and peered into the yard. A flash of lightning illuminated the shrubs, the flowers and the peach tree. No headlights. No truck.

      It must have been some kind of optical illusion—a trick of the light and rain.

      She filled a plastic cup with water from the sink and took a sip.

      A loud crash came from the hallway.

      The cup fell from her hands and splashed water on the kitchen floor. The noise came from the direction of Benjy’s bedroom. She remembered his open window with the loose screen. Someone could have climbed inside through that window.

      She grabbed a butcher knife from the drawer by the sink, dashed down the hallway and flung open the door to her son’s room. With no thought for her own safety, she charged inside. He wasn’t in the bed. Frantic, she turned on the light. He was gone. Oh, God, no.

      “Benjy?” Her voice quavered. “Where are you?”

      Her heart thumped hard and heavy. She ran to his window. It was closed, exactly the way she’d left it.

      The door to his closet was slightly ajar. Holding the knife in her right hand, she grasped the door handle with the left and pulled the door open.

      With a huge grin, Benjy greeted her. “Mommy.”

      She placed the knife on his dresser and gathered him into her arms. She held him tightly against her breast— relieved that he was all right and terrified of the unknown danger that might still be in her house. Something had made that crash. She couldn’t let down her guard, couldn’t pretend that nothing had happened. “Why were you in the closet?”

      “I don’t know.”

      He didn’t seem frightened. Wide awake and alert, but not scared. “Were you hiding?”

      “I couldn’t find my stegosaurus. I want him to sleep with me.”

      “Benjy, this is important. Was anyone in your room?”

      “Mommy, what’s wrong?”

      She struggled to keep the tremor from her voice. “Everything’s fine. We’re going to be fine.”

      The doorbell rang. It had to be Shane. Please let it be Shane.

      Benjy wriggled free from her grasp. She tried to grab him, but he dashed from his room and down the hall. Directly into danger? What if it wasn’t Shane at the door?

      She grabbed the knife and ran to the door behind her son. Loudly, she shouted, “Who’s there?”

      “It’s Shane. I’m getting wet out here.”

      “Shane’s here!” Benjy cried delightedly.

      She flipped the lock and opened the door for the big, tall mountain man in his cowboy hat. She’d never been so glad to see anyone in her entire life.

       Chapter Two

      After years as a deputy sheriff, Shane was accustomed to dealing with crises. He read terror in Angela’s eyes. Something had thrown her into a panic, and she wasn’t a woman who scared easily.

      He ruffled Benjy’s hair and pulled Angela into a one-armed hug. “What’s the problem?”

      Trembling, she whispered, “I think someone broke into the house.”

      “Did you see him?”

      “No.”

      “Do you think he’s still here?”

      Her voice cracked at the edge of a sob. “I don’t know.”

      With a small child in the mix, this wasn’t the time for a showdown with an intruder. He separated from Angela. Was that a knife in her hand? What the hell was she thinking? He scooped her son off the floor and said, “Let’s go for a drive.”

      “You’re wet,” Benjy said.

      “Rain will do that.” He dug his cell from his jacket pocket and handed it to Angela. “Make the call to 911.”

      She stared at the phone as though it might grow fangs and bite her. “I don’t want to contact the C-O-P-S. I might be imagining things. Could you just take a look around?”

      He’d never been able to say no to Angela. From the first time Tom introduced her as his fiancée, she’d been able to twist Shane around her little finger. Not that she asked for much or tried to manipulate him. Angela didn’t have a devious bone in her body. She faced the world with a straightforward determination. A flame burned within her. Sometimes she was bright as a torch. Other times, like now, she was a flickering candle. He’d do anything to nurture her delicate fire.

      “You said you might be imagining things,” he said. “Why?”

      “I heard a crash. Down the hall.”

      “Toward your bedroom?”

      “Yes.” Her lips were tight. Beneath the sweep of her long brown hair, her forehead pinched. She was desperate, stressed to the breaking point.

      “I’ll take care of this,” he said.

      He was pretty sure they weren’t dealing with a drug-crazed psycho, mainly because they hadn’t been attacked while standing here talking. But he intended to take her supposed imagining seriously. Until he knew better, he would assume there was an intruder.

      From where Shane stood, he could see that the small living room and the L-shaped dining area were clear. The kitchen was straight ahead and the lights were on. If someone was hiding in the house, he was down the hall to the left.

      “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said as lowered the boy to the floor. “Benjy, I want you and your mom to stand here, right by the door. If I yell, you run outside as fast as you can. Understand?”

      “Yes.” He held up his arms. “Can I hold your hat?”

      “You can wear it.”

      When he placed his hat on the boy’s head, Benjy giggled. “Look, Mommy. I’m a cowboy.”

      “You sure are.” Protectively, she placed her hand on her son’s thin shoulder.

      “Why do we run outside?”

      “It’s a game,” she said.

      Suitcase in hand, Shane went toward the hallway. As soon as he was out of Benjy’s sight, he unzipped his bag and took out his Sig Sauer. He almost hadn’t brought his weapon. Firearms generally weren’t needed at a wedding.

      Moving fast, he entered the first bedroom, the guestroom that usually served as a home office for Angela. He looked into the closet and under the bed. Found nothing.

      In the bathroom, he yanked aside the shower curtain. Nobody here.

      As he approached Benjy’s bedroom, he could hear Angela reassuring her son, telling him that Shane would be right back and everything was okay. He hoped she was right.

      Except for the messed-up covers on the bed, Benjy’s room was exceptionally neat. The closet was almost empty.

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