Delores Fossen - Taking Aim At The Sheriff

“I need a favor. A big one. I need you to marry me. Tonight .”

The look Jericho gave her let Laurel know that he thought she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had. But she didn't exactly have a lot of options, and Jericho was still her best bet.

“Marry you?” he repeated.

He was no doubt remembering the bad history between them. “What’s going on?” He turned as if he was about to show her to the door but then stopped. And studied her with those cop’s eyes. The warm amber-brown-colored eyes weren't so warm right now, but Laurel had firsthand knowledge that they could be.

Every part of Jericho could be warm.

Again, it was firsthand knowledge fed by years of experience of kissing him. Touching him, wanting him.

Taking Aim

at the Sheriff

Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

DELORES FOSSEN, a USA TODAY bestselling author, has sold over fifty novels with millions of copies of her books in print worldwide. She’s received the Booksellers’ Best Award and the RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. She was also a finalist for a prestigious RITA ®Award. You can contact the author through her webpage at www.dfossen.net.

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Contents

Cover

Introduction “I need a favor. A big one. I need you to marry me. Tonight .” The look Jericho gave her let Laurel know that he thought she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had. But she didn't exactly have a lot of options, and Jericho was still her best bet. “Marry you?” he repeated. He was no doubt remembering the bad history between them. “What’s going on?” He turned as if he was about to show her to the door but then stopped. And studied her with those cop’s eyes. The warm amber-brown-colored eyes weren't so warm right now, but Laurel had firsthand knowledge that they could be. Every part of Jericho could be warm. Again, it was firsthand knowledge fed by years of experience of kissing him. Touching him, wanting him.

Title Page Taking Aim at the Sheriff Delores Fossen www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author DELORES FOSSEN , a USA TODAY bestselling author, has sold over fifty novels with millions of copies of her books in print worldwide. She’s received the Booksellers’ Best Award and the RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. She was also a finalist for a prestigious RITA ® Award. You can contact the author through her webpage at www.dfossen.net .

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Sheriff Jericho Crockett didn’t have time to react. The SUV flew out from the side road and slammed right into the side of his truck.

The jolt was instant, tossing him around, and the seat belt snapped like a vise across Jericho’s body. It knocked the breath out of him and dazed him for a couple of seconds.

He couldn’t say the same for the driver of the SUV.

No dazed moments for the person behind that heavily tinted windshield. The driver backed up a few yards and came at Jericho again. This time, the front end of the SUV collided with his pickup’s engine and then pulled back before coming onto the main road behind Jericho.

Much to Jericho’s surprise, the guy didn’t bolt. The SUV stayed put, the driver revving up the engine as if it were some kind of wild animal on the verge of pouncing for an attack.

What the hell was going on here?

Was someone trying to kill him? Or at least put him in the hospital? Jericho wasn’t about to let either of those things happen. He drew his Smith & Wesson from his waist holster and threw open his door.

The blast of December air came right at him, spiking a chill in him that went bone deep. But the cold didn’t stop him. Jericho leaned out just enough so that he’d still have some cover but so this clown would see his gun.

What Jericho still couldn’t do was get a glimpse of the person inside. Of course, the darkness didn’t help. Nor did the fact that the driver didn’t even have on his headlights.

“I’m Sheriff Crockett!” Jericho shouted. “Get out of your vehicle now!”

Since this crazy attack had come out of the blue, Jericho wasn’t sure what to expect, but he braced himself in case someone in that SUV tried to take shots at him.

But that didn’t happen.

The SUV came at him again, slamming into the back of his truck and causing Jericho’s arm and shoulder to bash against the steering wheel. He held on to his gun, thank God, and he used it. Jericho sent two bullets into the SUV’s engine, but they ricocheted off. Obviously, it’d been reinforced in some kind of way, because the front fender wasn’t even crushed.

“The next shot goes through the windshield,” Jericho warned him. Easier than putting bullets through metal, anyway. “And right into you.”

The warning must have worked because this time the guy didn’t crash into him. The driver threw the SUV into Reverse and hit the accelerator, the tires kicking up smoke and stench as they squealed away.

Since this was a farm road, less than a quarter of a mile from Jericho’s family ranch, there wasn’t much traffic, but he didn’t want an innocent bystander hit by someone who was either drunk or just plain dangerous. He was more than ready to go after the idiot, but the spewing steam from his engine stopped him. The radiator had probably been busted in the collision, and he wasn’t going to get far. Best to try to get to the ranch and regroup.

Cursing, Jericho took out his phone and pressed his brother’s number. Jax, who was a deputy and still at work, answered on the first ring.

“I think somebody just tried to kill me,” Jericho said instead of a greeting. He eased his foot down on the accelerator, hoping the truck would make it home.

“Again?” Jax asked. It wasn’t exactly a smart-mouthed question. Earlier in the day, Jericho had been shot at during a domestic dispute. Now, this.

“A black SUV rammed into me three times, tore up my truck and then drove off. Run the plates for me.” Jericho rattled off the license numbers, and he heard the clicks his brother was making on the computer keyboard back at the sheriff’s office in the nearby town of Appaloosa Pass.

“You okay?” Jax sounded considerably more concerned with this question than his last one.

“I’m fine.” Well, except for what would no doubt be a god-awful bruise on his shoulder. It was already throbbing like a toothache.

“The plates aren’t registered,” Jax provided a moment later. “They’re bogus.”

Of course they were. “Find this moron and arrest his sorry butt. Once I’m at my house, I’ll get another vehicle and help you look for him.”

“I can handle this. No need for you—”

“I’ll be there,” Jericho insisted, and he ended the call.