Sawyer. Delores Fossen

      He lifted his gun, took aim. Not at her. He aimed the barrel of his gun at the passenger’s window.

      “No!” Cassidy shouted.

      Too late.

      He turned his head and fired, the shot blasting through not just both windows—the side and back—but the sound seemed to rip through her, too. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she hit the brakes. Not the best idea she’d ever had, but it was hard to make a good decision with the pain from the noise crashing through her ears and head.

      The truck tires fishtailed on the wet asphalt, slinging Sawyer and her around. Even though she was wearing her seat belt, her shoulder slammed so hard into her door that she swore she saw stars. She certainly lost her breath.

      Unlike Sawyer.

      The truck hadn’t even come to a full stop yet when he reached through the gaping hole in the safety glass on the passenger’s side and unlocked the door. Opened it. As if it were a routine maneuver for him, he slid from the truck bed and into the cab.

      He put his gun to her head.

      “You will tell me what’s going on now,” he growled. His glare was even worse, and the tendons in his neck corded.

      “I’ve already told you all I know.” She tried to sound tough as nails, like him. And she failed miserably. She wasn’t tough. She was terrified, exhausted and just wanted this ordeal to end. “Now, get out.”

      “Not gonna happen.”

      There it was. That smart mouth that she used to think was funny and a complement to his bad-boy persona. It had been the very thing that had lured her to him. But his mouth and his tenacity weren’t much of a lure now. Nothing was.

      Well, except for that brief slap of attraction she’d felt when she first saw him in the barn.

      That slap might have to be a real one that she delivered to herself, because an attraction to Sawyer should be the last thing on her mind.

      “They’ll kill Bennie if you’re with me,” she reminded him. Somehow, she got the truck moving again because like everything else, time wasn’t working in her favor.

      He shook his head, cursed her again and slung the water off his face. It didn’t help. The rain coming in from the window just walloped him once more, soaking his jacket, white shirt and jeans. His hair, too. The drops of water slid off those dark brown strands and dripped onto his face.

      “Who says they won’t just kill you when you give them the photo?” he asked. “You should have taken this to the cops and not tried to handle it yourself.”

      “I didn’t go to the cops because they said they’d kill Bennie.”

      “Kidnappers always say that,” he snapped. “And they always tell the mark to cooperate and that you’ll get your loved one back in one piece. Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. But they could just as easily put a bullet in you as Bennie.”

      Obviously, he thought she was stupid.

      “They won’t do that because I haven’t given them all the ransom money yet, that’s why. The other half won’t be transferred to their account until Bennie and I are away from the pick-up site. And I’m the only one with the bank account information. If they kill me, they don’t get the other half million.”

      He mumbled something she didn’t catch. “You’re paying a million dollarsʼ ransom for your brother?”

      “You’d do the same for your brother.”

      “Yeah. Because he’s a good guy and not some low-life weasel. What’d Bennie do this time to get himself in this mess?”

      “I don’t know.” Her voice cracked, and she could feel what little composure she had cracking, too. “At this point, it doesn’t matter. Bennie’s the only family I have, and I’ll give them every penny I own to get him back.”

      And while a million wasn’t every penny she owned, it was close. It would wipe her out financially, but there was no way she could live with herself if she hadn’t agreed to the kidnappersʼ every demand.

      Including that photo.

      “Is the baby yours?” she asked. Cassidy took the turn too fast toward the town of Silver Creek, and the tires squealed on the road.

      “I don’t know,” Sawyer said after several long moments. He slung off more water, swiveled in the seat and looked around.

      “You don’t know if you had sex with a woman about ten months ago?” Cassidy pressed.

      Yes, she sounded irked about that. And was. She’d always been attracted to the bad-boy types, but it never felt good to know that she was in a mountain-high pile of women that Sawyer had discarded.

      Even if she’d contributed a lot to the reason he’d discarded her.

      “There’s someone,” he admitted. “I’ll call her as soon as I’m finished with this. But I’m pretty sure if she’d gotten pregnant, she would have told me.” And he took out his phone. “I’m calling my cousin, the sheriff.”

      “No!” Even though she had to take one of her hands off the steering wheel, Cassidy did it so she could grab his phone. “No cops. No anyone but me.”

      He leaned in, a major violation of her personal space. So close she could smell wedding cake on his breath. “I’m going to the drop site with you. Close your mouth,” he added when she opened it. “Because arguing won’t help. You’re taking me to those kidnappers so I can find out why they want the photo. And why they took Bennie.”

      Sawyer fired off a text message. Probably requesting backup that could make this mess a thousand times worse.

      “I could stop the truck and refuse to go there,” she lied.

      And the flat look Sawyer gave her with those blistering blue eyes let her know that he, too, knew she was lying.

      “Where’s this place?” He sounded like the tough FBI agent that he was.

      “Just off Miller’s Road.” She checked the time on the dash clock. “And I have less than ten minutes to get there.”

      “Where on Miller’s Road?” Sawyer didn’t address that time was ticking away, either.

      “It’s an abandoned building.” Now she was the one to get in his face. For a brief glare, anyway. “Don’t you dare make me regret telling you.”

      “Abandoned,” he repeated. “The Tumbleweed? It used to be a bar.”

      She nodded. The sign had been rusted and battered, but the name was still partially visible. “You know the place?”

      “Yeah.” And that one word held a lot of emotion. Or something. “I was raised in Silver Creek. The Tumbleweed used to belong to my grandfather.”

      Oh, mercy. Cassidy doubted that was a coincidence. “So, what does Bennie’s kidnapping have to do with you?”

      Sawyer lifted his shoulder. “Like I said, that’s what I intend to find out. Take that next left.”

      “That’s not Miller’s Road.”

      “I know. And that’s why we’re taking it. Turn!” he growled.

      It was the second time in the past few moments that she’d hoped she didn’t regret this, but Cassidy took the turn. It wasn’t a road but an old ranch trail with thick underbrush on both sides. Not exactly a good driving surface with the rain, and the first pothole she hit made the truck bounce, and their heads struck the ceiling.

      “Slow down and stop up there,” Sawyer instructed, and he pointed to a pile of limestone boulders.

      Again, she did as he said, but the moment she stopped, Cassidy took hold of his jacket and forced eye contact. “I know you think Bennie doesn’t