Page 54 of Ransom for His Secret Son

It wasn’t the best vantage point, but at least he could see Remi. Like him, she had her weapon drawn and was scanning the tree line for any sign of their shooter.

Or, rather, looking for any sign of Tarrant.

Because he had to be the one doing this.

Tarrant had given them the address with one objective in mind: to get them here so he could kill them. But Brody refused to believe he wouldn’t find his son here. The baby had to be somewhere, and this was just as good an option as any. And it wouldn’t have mattered to Tarrant if the baby was inside or not.

It sure as hell mattered to Brody, though, and he prayed that whoever was caring for the infant had at least taken cover at the sound of that first shot.

The gunfire slowed, then stopped.

Brody’s heart pounded as he waited. He listened, his ears straining to pick up on any movement not just from their attacker but from anyone who might be inside the cottage.

Especially a baby.

But he heard no cries. No other sounds of anyone scrambling to safety, and that caused the sickening dread to wash over him. He couldn’t fail at this again. He just couldn’t.

“You see anything?” he whispered to Remi.

She shook her head, her breathing controlled but sharp. “Nothing yet.”

Another shot rang out, and it came so close past his ear that he felt the rush of air. Too close. But it helped Brody pinpoint the location of the shooter.

Directly across the road.

Not in plain sight, of course. But, rather, hidden behind a thick cluster of trees and underbrush.

His finger hovered over the trigger, but he couldn’t fire back. Not without knowing where his son was. All he could do was wait and pray he’d be able to neutralize the shooter and do what he’d come here to do. Find his baby.

Another round of gunfire exploded, but this time the bullets slammed into the side of the cottage.

The rage went through Brody like wildfire. Whoever was inside—his son, a caretaker, maybe even a hostage—was in the line of fire.

That dissolved any shred of patience he had left.

“Tarrant!” Brody shouted at the top of his lungs. His voice echoed through the air. “You don’t want to give me more reason to kill you.”

He didn’t expect an answer.

But he got one.

“Hey, I’m just trying to stay alive,” Tarrant shouted back.

Brody’s grip on his gun tightened. The SOB wasn’t even denying he was here.

“The way you stay alive,” Brody called out, voice steady, “is to quit shooting and leave.”

Tarrant didn’t fire again, but he didn’t move either. Brody’s gut tensed. He could deal with Tarrant another day. The priority was his son.

But what if that was a mistake?

If the cottage was empty, if this was nothing but a setup, then this was his chance. He could take Tarrant alive and use him as leverage to bargain with whoever had his little boy. The problem with doing that was there was no way to get behind Tarrant. No clean way to draw him out.

Unless…

Brody shifted slightly, angling his voice toward the trees. “You want to know who did this? Who set you up?” He let the words hang for a beat. “I’ll give you a name.”

Silence.