id="u301c5510-6319-51b5-864a-3a9ad3f0cb8e">
Chase paused, trying to brace himself for how she was going to react to the next thing he had to tell her.
“There was blood on the floor.”
That caused her breath to shudder, and she staggered back. Maybe would have fallen if Chase hadn’t caught her. He hooked his arm around her waist, putting them body to body again. Also giving him feelings he didn’t want to have.
Lust.
Not an especially good time for it, but it always seemed to happen with April. Chase cursed it and wished there was some way in hell he could make himself immune to her.
The Marshal’s
Justice
Delores Fossen
DELORES FOSSEN, a USA TODAY bestselling author, has sold over fifty novels with millions of copies of her books in print worldwide. She’s received a Booksellers’ Best Award and an RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. She was also a finalist for a prestigious RITA® Award. You can contact the author through her web page at www.deloresfossen.com.
Contents
The shot cracked through the air. Mercy. That was definitely not what Marshal Chase Crockett wanted to hear.
Or see.
The bullet slammed into the woman he’d just spotted. Her gaze connected with Chase’s a split second before she crumpled to the ground.
If she wasn’t dead, she soon would be. Chase was sure of it.
He cursed when he couldn’t go out in the clearing where she’d fallen and pull her out of the path of more gunfire. Cursed, too, that he hadn’t been able to stop that bullet from hitting her in the first place.
How the devil had this happened?
He didn’t have time to try to figure that out because the next bullet came right at him, and Chase had no choice but to dive behind a pile of rocks. Maybe he’d get a chance soon to return fire and make the shooter pay for what he had just done.
And what he’d done was shoot the criminal informant, Deanne McKinley, on the banks of Appaloosa Creek. A woman who had phoned Chase earlier and begged him to help her. If he’d just gotten her call a few minutes sooner, maybe he could have arrived in time to stop this.
Whatever this was.
Clearly, someone wanted Deanne dead, and now whoever had attacked her was shooting at Chase, too.
“If you want to get out of this alive, you might as well give up now,” the gunman shouted.
Chase didn’t recognize the voice, but he’d caught a glimpse of a guy wearing a ski mask before the man shot Deanne and then darted out of sight. He wasn’t even sure if the idiot was yelling at him or Deanne. Chase didn’t have nearly enough info, other than the call a half hour ago from Deanne to tell him she was in trouble. She said someone was trying to kill her, that she needed his help.
Help was exactly what Chase had intended to give her when he’d arrived.
So far, all he’d managed to do was dodge bullets, but if he had anything to say about that, things were about to change.
Chase heard Deanne’s hoarse moan, and she moved her hand to her chest. Alive. He had to do something now to keep it that way.
He didn’t know the exact location of the shooter, but Chase fired two shots in the guy’s general direction. In the same motion, he scrambled toward Deanne to try to pull her away.
Basically, it was a high-risk move with little chance of succeeding.
Or at least it should have been.
But another set of shots blasted through the air. Definitely not ones that Chase or the gunman had fired. They’d come from a cluster of trees about thirty feet away, and the bullets had been aimed at the shooter.
Maybe backup had arrived a little sooner than Chase had thought it would. Or it could be a hunter or nearby rancher who’d heard sounds of the attack and had come to help. Either way, he’d take it.
Chase grabbed hold of Deanne’s arm and pulled her behind a tree. It