I looked around and realized that I was already headed in that direction. “I’m going.”
“I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me until you get there.”
“Okay.” My voice cracked on the word, and I hated the show of weakness.
“Shiloh?”
My body started to shake as the adrenaline left my system. “Yeah?”
“You’re not alone.”
29
RAMSEY
My tires screechedas I pulled into a parking space at the sheriff’s department. I yanked the keys out of the ignition, my hands trembling with the movement, but I barely had time to register the fury blasting through my system because I was already running up the front steps.
It was a miracle I’d made it to the station in one piece. I didn’t remember most of the drive there. All I knew was that I’d yelled something half-intelligible to Aidan and took off for my truck.
Yanking open the door, I charged inside. “Hayes?”
The question came out as more of a demand, and the young officer behind the desk casually placed a hand on the butt of his holstered service weapon. “Do you have an appointment?”
I wondered if he’d shoot me if I went for the door that likely led to the offices. This all wasted too much time.
The door swung open, and a woman with inky black hair and features that spoke of her indigenous ancestry stepped through. “I’ve got him, Smith.” She inclined her head in an order for me to follow her. I didn’t hesitate.
She wove her way through a sea of desks, about two-thirds full. Some officers ignored us, while others stared blatantly.
“Shiloh’s fine. Hand might be smarting a little, but that’s it.”
I didn’t say a word, but fury blazed to life again, pumping through my system, heating my blood, and squeezing my heart.
The officer knocked on a door that readSheriff Easton.
“Come in,” Hayes said.
She opened the door but didn’t enter, stepping aside so that I could pass.
I moved quickly, my gaze immediately going to Shiloh. She turned her head in my direction, and those ice-blue eyes were like a sucker punch to the gut, though not in the usual way that had me fighting attraction—in a way that had me wanting to commit murder.
There was fear—I read it the same way I did in the horses that came to me from the worst circumstances—and Ian Kemper had put it there.
I moved on instinct, not caring that we were in her brother’s office. I lifted Shiloh into my arms and deposited her back on my lap. I needed to hold her and make sure she was okay. I thought she’d give me hell for the move, but instead, she curled herself around me, pressing her face into the crook of my neck.
I held her tightly against me. “You’re okay.”
“I know.”
I’d said the words more to reassure myself than her. I rubbed a hand up and down her back, the ridges in her spine pressing against my palm. I closed my eyes for a moment, concentrating on the feel of Shiloh breathing, the rise and fall of her chest against mine. She was here and whole.
When I opened my eyes, Hayes stared back at me, assessing. I didn’t look away. I let him read whatever he needed to. I wouldn’t hide what I felt for Shiloh. Even if I hadn’t given it a name, I knew the burn it left in its wake would change me forever.
After another minute, Shiloh squirmed. I didn’t want to let her go, and it took everything in me to loosen my hold and let herslide into the chair next to me. I framed her face in my hands. “You’re really okay?”
She dropped her forehead to mine. “It rattled me.”
Those three words cracked something deep inside me. Typically, Shiloh wouldn’t share something like that, but she was trying—with her brother and me.