Page 57 of Ransom for His Secret Son

A long pause. Too long.

Brody risked a glance toward the cottage, every muscle in his body tensed.

Then finally Maria’s shaky voice. “No. I—I’m not hit.”

Brody blew out a slow breath, but there was no time for relief.

Remi pressed on. “Open the door. Let me help you.”

Another pause. Then the soft creak of hinges. The door inched open just enough for Remi to squeeze through, not far enough for Brody to see inside.

She didn’t hesitate. She scrambled in and shut the door behind her, sealing herself inside with Maria. And the baby.

Brody swallowed hard, forcing down the emotions roaring through him. Please, let him be all right. But he couldn’t dwell on that. Not now.

Tarrant was still out there.

He turned back to the trees, adjusting his grip on his weapon. He had one job: to keep Tarrant from taking another shot at that cottage. And Brody wasn’t about to fail.

His head whipped up when he heard another sound. Not gunfire this time but, rather, the distant wail of police sirens. Violet’s backup, no doubt.

Brody clenched his jaw, hoping like the devil the approaching cops didn’t push Tarrant into a panic. The SOB had already fired into the cottage, and if he thought he was about to be cornered, he might unload everything he had in retaliation.

But then…silence.

No more shots.

Brody’s gut knotted. Tarrant was running. His every instinct screamed to take off after him, to hunt him down and drag him into the dirt.

But he didn’t.

Because right now, his son could be inside that cottage.

Brody barreled out from cover, sprinting across the open space toward the porch. He took the steps in one stride, gripping his gun as he called out, “Remi, I’m coming in.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He just pushed open the door.

The moment Brody stepped inside, his gaze locked on the scene in front of him. Remi was crouched on the floor beside a gray-haired woman, both of them in front of an open closet. But it wasn’t the woman who held his attention.

It was the tiny bundle in Remi’s arms.

His breath caught.

Remi had stripped off her bulletproof vest and draped it over the baby, shielding him, protecting him.

Brody somehow forced his feet to start moving, drawn to the baby. For the first time, he was looking at his missing son. He was certain of it.

Everything else—Tarrant, the gunfight, the rage still simmering in his blood—faded to the background. Brody’s whole focus was just on the newborn.

The baby stirred beneath the vest, his little face scrunching up, and Brody’s chest squeezed so tightly he could barely breathe.

Brody had him.

He finally had him.

Chapter Sixteen

The nursery lamp cast a soft glow over the room, making the two babies in the crib look impossibly small. Remi let out a slow breath, only now realizing how tightly wound she’d been. They had him.