But a sinister voice echoed from the other side of the phone. “You can run, but you can’t hide, Rose. I’ll find you.”
“No, Ray, I’m not exaggerating.” Maddox grimaced at the fact that Ray had even suggested such a thing. “Dad is...dying. Emphysema.”
Silence stretched between them for a long minute. Maddox braced himself for Ray to deny his father’s request. How he’d explain that to his father he didn’t know.
“I’ll think about it,” Ray said in a belligerent tone.
“Do more than think,” Maddox said tersely. “The least you can do is to say goodbye to him. You two might have butted heads, but he is your father.”
Ray muttered something ugly that Maddox couldn’t understand, but he refrained from asking him to repeat it. He didn’t want to know.
He’d given up understanding Ray a long time ago.
His phone beeped that he had another call, and he sighed in relief. Sad that he welcomed a work call to save him from talking to his own flesh and blood. “I’ve got another call I have to take. Now get your butt home. If you don’t, I’ll track you down and drag you back to Pistol Whip myself.”
He didn’t bother to wait on a response. He clicked over to answer the other line. “Sheriff McCullen.”
“Sheriff, it’s Rose Worthington.”
Maddox frowned at the way her voice warbled. “What’s wrong, Rose?”
“Someone...my fiancé...he tried to kill me tonight.”
Shock bolted through Maddox. He’d seen Rose around town, even lusted after her a few times. How could a man not? She had silky red hair, raspberry-ripe lips and a body that made a man want to bury himself inside her.
But he’d been too busy taking care of his father and the ranch, and protecting the town, to get entangled with her. Besides, she’d had a ring on her finger.
“Did you hear me?” Rose said. “He tried to kill me tonight.”
Maddox swung into professional mode. “Where are you?”
“My house,” Rose said. “Please hurry. I’m afraid he’ll come after me.”
“What’s your address?”
“Two-thirty-one First Street.”
“I’m on my way. Just stay on the line.” Maddox fastened his holster and gun and hurried outside to his squad car. “Tell me what happened?”
“Before he attacked me, I heard him talking on the phone. He said I’d be dead before morning. He had a gun and I tried to run, and he grabbed me and...the gun went off.”
“Are you hurt?” Maddox flipped on his siren and sped toward the street where Rose lived. A Mustang pulled out in front of him, and he beeped his horn and passed it, irritated to see the driver on his cell phone. If he’d had time, he’d have pulled the jerk over, but Rose sounded terrified and he needed to hurry.
She might still be in danger.
* * *
ROSE SHIVERED AS she peered out her front window. Was Thad dead?
Or if he’d survived, had he followed her here? Was the person he’d been talking to watching her?
Nausea rolled through her, and she checked to make sure the door was locked, then looked down and realized she was still wearing her robe. Her diamond glittered beneath the light, a reminder of how excited she’d been when she and Thad had left for their trip. All her hopes and dreams were going to come true. Thad loved her.
All lies.
Revulsion mingled with humiliation. She ripped off the ring and tossed it into a drawer, then turned to go upstairs to get dressed. But a noise sounded above and she froze, terrified someone was upstairs.
No...she was probably just paranoid. It was just the furnace...
But...what if the mysterious voice had been calling from inside the house?
A siren wailed, and she pulled back the curtain again and watched as the sheriff’s car spun into the driveway. She ran to the door, threw the lock open and rushed outside to the porch.
Seconds later, Sheriff McCullen stepped from the vehicle, his tall frame emerging in the shadows.
“Rose?”
“I’m here.” Her voice faded as she ran down the steps toward him. He rushed toward her and she fell into his arms, trembling as a sob escaped her.
* * *
MADDOX PULLED ROSE into his arms, cradling her close as she shuddered against him.
He murmured soothing words to her and stroked her hair, hating himself for noticing that it was just as soft as he’d imagined when he’d seen her around town.
What kind of man lusted after a woman when she was quaking in his arms from nearly being killed?
“You’re all right, now,” he said, lowering his voice to a gentle pitch. Both his brothers had told him that he sounded like a bear when he talked. He couldn’t help that he’d been given a deep baritone voice.
It came in handy when he wanted to intimidate a suspect. Not so much when a frightened woman was looking for someone gentle to comfort her.
She clung to him, rasping for breath. “You’re safe now, Rose. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She heaved another breath and sniffled, her damp tears soaking his shirt. “I’m sorry. I...didn’t know what to do. Who to call.”
“I’m the sheriff,” he murmured. “I’m here to protect you and everyone in this town.”
She nodded against his chest, her sobs finally subsiding. Then she lifted her chin and looked up at him. The pain in her eyes tore at him.
She blinked, tears glistening on her eyelashes in the moonlight that seeped through the clouds.
“Let’s go inside and you can tell me everything.”
Her lower lip quivered as she released him and folded her arms around her waist. She stumbled on a fallen tree limb on the ground, and he steadied her as they walked up the steps to the porch. When they made it to the doorway, she froze, her eyes widening again in fear.
“I thought I heard a noise upstairs earlier.”
He immediately drew his gun and coaxed her aside. “Wait here. Let me check the house.”
She nodded and gripped the doorjamb as he scanned the living room to the left. It was clear, so he veered to the right and scanned the kitchen, which was connected to the living room by a breakfast bar. The kitchen was empty, so he took the staircase, his senses honed for sounds of an intruder.
The furnace kicked on, rattling in the silence, and he paused at the top of the staircase to glance into the room to the right.
An iron bed covered in a pale blue-and-white quilt dominated the room, and an antique dresser held perfume bottles and candles by the bathroom door. He went inside, instincts alert, but saw nothing amiss. A quick check in the closet told him this was Rose’s room. Feminine dresses, blouses and shoes filled the closet.
Exhaling slowly, he turned and crossed to the room on the opposite side of the hall. This must be a guest room. The bedding was simple, with a white coverlet on a four-poster Shaker-style bed, and there was a Shaker-style dresser by the wall. The closet held a few containers stacked with extra clothing and items.
But the rooms were clear.
Relieved,