Page 44 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

A cold realization settled in his chest. The shooter was gone.

Chapter Ten

The Crossfire Creek County Sheriff’s Office was a squat, tan-brick building that had clearly been added onto three different times over the last forty years. Functional. No-nonsense. A place where paperwork and bulletproof vests lived side by side. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, and the faint scent of burnt coffee drifted from the break room.

Deacon’s office sat at the back of the building, past a row of cubicles and framed commendations. His door was open, his name etched into a simple metal plate.

Inside, the space was exactly what Jessa expected from him, orderly and restrained. A solid oak desk with neat stacks of files. Two battered guest chairs. A wall-mounted whiteboard filled with notes and timelines from ongoing cases. No clutter. No distractions.

Jessa should have been able to breathe here. But her lungs felt tight.

His deputies had brought them in straight after the attack, after her SUV had been reduced to twisted metal and shattered glass on the side of the road. The only thing between them and a body bag had been pure luck and Deacon’s and her instincts.

Now, she paced the length of his office, trying to work the tremor out of her hands, trying to keep her thoughts focused. The adrenaline had mostly burned off. The anger hadn’t.

At his desk, Deacon was on the phone, his tone clipped, each word edged with the kind of frustration she rarely heard from him.

“Nothing? Not a single visual?” Pause. “What about the old service road? Did anyone see a truck matching either description?” Another pause. “Damn it. All right. Keep looking.”

Deacon ended the call with a low curse, and he dragged a hand over his face, frustration etched into every line of his body. That gesture alone told her what she already suspected.

“No sign of the shooter,” he said, voice rough. “Not a damn trace.”

Her stomach dipped. She’d hoped, foolishly so, that maybe there’d be something to give them a lead. Something that would keep them from standing in the crosshairs again.

“But I spoke with Sheriff Chase,” he added. “She’s agreed to bring Shade here to the county office for questioning. He’ll be here soon.”

Good. Not good. She couldn’t decide which.

Shade being here meant answers were possible. It also meant one more unpredictable variable in a case already crowded with them.

Deacon pushed himself to his feet, angling toward her. His movement was only a little slow, barely perceptible, but she saw it anyway. Felt it. The pain from his stitches. The crash. The gunfire.

He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, close enough that for a heartbeat she thought he might pull her into his arms.

And for a heartbeat, she would have let him.

A sharp rap on the door shattered the moment. Deputy Lane Kincaid poked his head in. “Sheriff,” Lane said with a nod to Deacon before shifting his focus to her. “Ms. Creed. Your SUV’s been towed to the county crime lab,” he reported. “Techs are already going over it. I’ll keep you posted.”

He handed Deacon a set of keys next. “And, Sheriff, your new cruiser is out back. The one you wrecked last night is… well, it’s done.”

“Figures.” Deacon accepted the keys with a grim look. “How’s that deep dive going on Shade?” It was a request Deacon had made shortly after they’d arrived at the sheriff’s office. Not just one on Shade though but also Wynn and Corbin.

“Still putting it together,” Lane replied. “Should be done soon.”

Deacon thanked the deputy and told him to let them know the moment Shade arrived. Lane gave a quick nod and pulled the door shut behind him, leaving the office hushed again.

The silence had barely settled when Deacon reached for her.

His arms came around her with a quiet urgency, pulling her against the solid heat of his chest. Jessa stiffened for a fraction of a second, surprised, then let herself breathe into the hold.

“I’m all right,” she murmured against him.

“Good,” he said, his voice a low rumble near her ear. “Because I’m really doing this to steady myself.”

A short burst of air left her mouth. Not quite a laugh. “You are not.”

He leaned back just enough for their gazes to meet. His eyes swept hers, slow and searching. She felt the moment shift, thickening, warming, despite everything else burning down around them.