Free Protecting Peggy by Maggie Price Page B

making her progress seem more of a crawl than an unsteady walk.
    Even as she told herself she was more frightened than hurt, her brain registered the sickening crunch of gravel coming from just outside the door.
    She went still, her body rigid, every muscle and tendon taut. The fog-obscured silhouette that darkenedthe doorway sent claws of terror digging into her throat.
    He’s back.
    Panic threatened to swamp her, and she forced it away. She could panic later…if she survived his next attack.
    With the quick, instinctive fear of a cornered victim, she raised the shears. When the dark form advanced through the door, she lunged.
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    It happened fast, a blur of motion and sound. One second, Rory was striding across the gravel parking lot, his mind half focused on the microbiological quality of Hopechest Ranch’s water. The instant he stepped through the door of the greenhouse, adrenaline surged through his chest as he dodged the business end of viciously sharp garden shears.
    â€œWhat the hell…?”
    â€œOh, God, it’s you. I thought…”
    When he saw the shockingly white sheen of Peggy’s skin, the pure fear in her moss-green eyes, his heart stopped.
    He gripped her shoulders. “What happened?”
    â€œA man grabbed me.” She burrowed into Rory’s arms as if he were a lifeline. “Did you see him out there?” Her breath came out on a broken sob. “He’s out there.”
    Rory looked toward the door and quelled the urge to go after the guy. With the fog so thick, it would be like searching for someone on a moonless night.
    â€œI didn’t see him,” Rory said quietly while cursing the fact his gun was upstairs, hidden in his room.
    Sliding his arms tighter around Peggy’s trembling body, he swept his gaze across the greenhouse’s dim interior. Nothing. He saw nothing amiss, except the small pots with tiny green sprouts scattered across one of the wooden benches.
    â€œAre you hurt?”
    â€œNot really.”
    â€œTell me what happened.”
    She shuddered. “I…thought someone…was behind me. No one was. Then…he grabbed my hair. The back of my neck.” Against his chest, Rory felt her hands fist. “He nearly lifted me off the floor. I thought… Oh, God, I thought he was going to…”
    Setting his jaw, Rory eased her back. Her sweater was buttoned to the neck, and the only damage to her slacks were smudges of dirt on both knees. If she’d been raped in this setting, her clothing would be soiled, torn.
    â€œI’ve got you.” He closed his eyes, slicked his palm down the length of her ponytail and chose to ignore the hard, jerky beat of his own heart. “He can’t hurt you now.”
    â€œSamantha. All I could think about was Samantha. How alone she’d be if I died.”
    Rory’s chin jerked up. Dammit, for the first time in his life he’d broken one of the ironclad rules of being a cop. He had let himself feel instead of think. Less than five minutes ago, he’d parked his rental car in the lot, gone into the inn through the front door and immediately started looking for Peggy. When he got to the kitchen, he spotted the flowers in the vase. Since her station wagon was parked outside, he figured shewas around somewhere, so he took a chance she might be in the greenhouse. During his short time indoors, he hadn’t heard or seen Samantha.
    The thought that some scum had attacked the mother to buy time to snatch her child put a sick feeling in Rory’s gut. He’d worked enough crime scenes that involved kidnapped children to last a lifetime. Swallowing hard, he forced his voice to remain steady. “Where’s Samantha?”
    â€œAt a friend’s house.”
    Relief rose in him like a wave. “Do you know who attacked you?”
    â€œI…never saw his face.”
    â€œDid he use a weapon?”
    â€œJust his hands.” Her voice