She slammed the safe door shut and spun the dial. When she tugged on the handle, it no longer opened. Satisfied, she picked up the painting and hung it back on the wall. “You're definitely going,” she told the canvas.

A branch outside hit the window again, startling her. She'd really had enough of this room for one night. It was making her jumpy. Ignoring the noises, she strode back to the desk.

She'd have to catalogue each piece in the house that she didn't want, which would be most of it, and call a reputable dealer. There would be antique furniture, artwork, books, dishes, and heaven only knows what else. She knew there was a large attic upstairs filled with stuff that would need to be gone through. But if she ever wanted this house to feel like hers, it had to be done.

Cyndi reached out to turn off the desk lamp. What she needed right now was a hot cup of chamomile tea and a piece of the good, dark chocolate she'd brought with her. She'd make a small tray and take it upstairs with her and indulge in a hot, bubble bath as well. Maybe she'd even start the new Lauren Dane book she'd purchased especially for the trip.

The crash came the second her hand touched the lamp. Cyndi screamed, whirling around to face the window. The second crash was even louder. Shards of glass blew inward with great force.

Cyndi spun away, covering her face and dropping to the floor. Several more crashes followed. The silence that followed was even more frightening.

Her heart pounding like a runaway train, Cyndi stared toward the windows. All four of them were shattered. The drapes billowed inward as the wind blew through the gaping holes. Glass tinkled as it continued to fall away from the windowpanes.

Shocked, all she could do was stare at the destruction. Then common sense kicked in. Someone was out there. Someone had broken out all her windows. At this point, she wasn't sure how they'd done it, but they'd obviously known she was in here. Alone.

Reaching her hand over her head, she groped for the phone that sat on the corner of the desk and dragged it onto her lap. She lifted the receiver. The line was dead.

Her cell phone was in her purse in the kitchen.

She'd have to make a run for it. Taking a deep breath, she jumped up, flicked off the lamp, and raced to the door. Her hand brushed over the main light switch, plummeting the room into darkness. She heard a popping sound as the door slammed behind her.

Not pausing, she raced down the hallway, skidding on the floor as she entered the kitchen. Keeping her head low, she grabbed her purse off the counter and kept going, heading for the pantry. Her hand slipped on the doorknob, but then it was open and she threw herself inside, crouching on the floor.

There were no windows in this room, so she flicked on the light. She was appalled to see blood on her hand, but ignored it as she upended her purse onto the floor. Grabbing her phone, she hesitated. She knew she should dial 911. They would send someone from the sheriff's office. But she didn't have any friends in this town. Given the fact Patrick O'Rourke was now the sheriff, would an officer be dispatched right away or would they make her wait? She hated that she had doubts.

Shamus popped into her head. He'd help her. Her fingers flew to the card he'd tucked into her pocket earlier today. She hadn't remembered to take it out. She dropped it twice before finally leaving it on the floor. It took her several tries before she could dial the number without making a mistake.

It rang once, twice, and was answered on the third ring. “Hello.” The sound of his voice sank into her bones. He would help her. She could hear the television in the background. “Hello?” he said again. She hadn't realized that she hadn't spoken. “Who is this?"

She sank down onto the floor and pulled her legs tight to her chest. “Shamus.” Her voice was thin and shaky, but still he knew her at once.

"Cyndi."

"Someone just shot out my windows. I was in the study. At least I think they shot them. I'm not sure. But they're out there. They cut the phone line, and I had to make a run for my cell phone.” She knew she was babbling but couldn't make herself stop. Someone had shot at her.

"I'm on my way."

The thought of him coming here when there might be a maniac with a gun terrified her. “No! He might still be out there. Can you call the sheriff's department?"

"Why didn't you call them?” She could tell he was moving in the background as the television faded.

"I know I should have called 911.” Her voice sounded as small as she felt. “I wasn't sure they'd come. At least not right away."

Shamus swore. “Hang on, I'm calling from the other phone.” As she went quiet, she realized that she'd called Shamus's cell phone and that he had a landline as well. “Yeah, it's me. There's someone shooting at the James place. I'm on my way.” It took her a second to grasp the fact that Shamus wasn't talking to her. Then he was back. “I'm on my way out the door right now. Stay on the line with me."

"Okay. But you wait for the sheriff's deputies.” She couldn't bear to think about something bad happening to him.

"I'll be fine. Don't you worry about me. Are you okay?"

"I think so.” She thought she heard a noise and scrambled to her knees and turned off the light. She didn't think it could be seen from the kitchen, but she didn't want to take any chances.

"What's going on?” he barked.

"I thought I heard something."

"Where are you?"

She lowered her voice to a whisper as she crawled to the far corner of the room and put her back to the wall. “I'm hiding in the pantry off the kitchen."

"Stay there until I come for you. I don't want you moving around the house and maybe getting shot by accident from either the shooter or the cops.” The calmness of his voice settled her nerves slightly. Shamus was on the way.

"Okay,” she readily agreed, listening to his voice as he continued to talk to her. She wasn't keen on going out there until she knew that whoever was outside was gone.

Finally, she could hear a familiar sound in the distance. “I can hear the sirens."

"Everything will be okay, Cyndi. I'm just pulling into the yard now. I have to hang up, but you sit tight."

She didn't want to lose the contact with him, but now that she was calmer, she knew he was right. “Okay. Just wait for the deputies and be careful.” She forced herself to end the call.

Laying her phone to one side, she wrapped her arms tight around her legs and waited.

Chapter Seven

Shamus kept his voice calm because that was what Cyndi needed. What he really wanted to do was howl in fury. Someone had attacked his woman.

He might have only met her a day ago, but deep in his very being, he knew she was his. Sheer terror filled him as he recognized her voice on the phone and her story had come pouring out. Someone had shot at her. Then the anger followed, hot and deep. Whoever did this had made a grave mistake. Cyndi was his woman and he would protect her with his very life.

Common sense had little to do with the emotions coursing through his veins at the moment. They were primal and volatile. He'd never felt anything like it in his life. The only thing keeping him steady was the fact that it was what she needed right now. She was alive and unhurt. That was all that mattered.

His fingers clenched the steering wheel so hard he was surprised the damn thing hadn't broken. The normally short ride had seemed endless, but finally he was pulling into the driveway. It was hard to hang up the phone and cut off his only connection to Cyndi, but he needed both hands free.

Red and blue lights flashed behind him as a sheriff's cruiser pulled up. Shamus opened his door and climbed out of his truck. Two more official vehicles pulled up and his brother jumped out of one of them. He stalked toward Shamus. “What the hell is going on?"

Shamus motioned to the house. “Someone shot out several of the windows. Cyndi said she was in the study at the time. They cut the phone lines too."

The sheriff's deputies were gathering around Patrick, awaiting their instructions. “Spread out and search the grounds. Be careful. We may have a shooter out there. I imagine he's long gone, but don't take any chances.” The men and women dispersed and set to work.

Patrick waited until they were all gone before he turned back to Shamus. “Why the hell didn't she call the cops? Why did she call you?"

Shamus stared his brother straight in the eyes. “She wasn't sure you'd come fast enough."

Patrick swore and shook his head as he drew his weapon. In his other hand, he carried a heavy flashlight. “You stay behind me. Do you know where she is?"

"She's hiding in the pantry off the kitchen. I told her to stay put until I came for her."

Patrick nodded and started up the walkway. He tried the front door, but it was locked. “Stand back.” Using the handle of the flashlight, he beat out a small window just to the side of the door. When the glass was all pushed aside, he reached in and found the locks. In seconds, the door was open.

Easing inside the front door, Patrick kept his back to the wall as he turned on the light in the foyer. “You wait here.” He then proceeded to check each room in the hallway, leaving the lights on behind him as he moved deeper into the house.

Ignoring his brother's order, Shamus was tight on his heels. He wanted to race into the kitchen to Cyndi but he knew this was the safest way for all of them. Still, impatience ate at him.

Patrick glanced over his shoulder, a frown on his face. “I told you to wait outside."