One Night Standoff

chapter Twelve



While he paced in the marshals’ office, Clayton went through his mental checklist and made sure he’d done everything to keep everyone safe.

Well, as safe as he could.

Considering Kirby was refusing to leave the ranch, that meant even his best measures still weren’t very safe. Clayton had tried and failed multiple times to convince his foster father to go to the hospital, so that meant formulating a backup plan.

Step one was to beef up security. Arm the ranch hands and have them keep watch to make sure another intruder didn’t make it onto the grounds. He’d also need all the suspects questioned again. Information was the key to finding out who was behind these attacks.

The second part of the plan wasn’t nearly as easy, because it involved finding the gunman who’d escaped. So far, there hadn’t even been a sighting for them to follow. Still, they’d keep looking and might get lucky. Might get lucky, too, with the wounded gunman, who was still in surgery. If he made it out alive, and that was a big if, Clayton would be able to question him and maybe get answers about who was behind these attempts to kill Lenora and him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lenora asked him—again.

“Yeah,” Clayton answered again.

Lenora had echoed the same response each of the times he’d put that particular question to her, and he was thinking it was a lie for both of them.

It was true—she hadn’t been physically hurt—but the adrenaline and stress of being under fire couldn’t be good for her or the baby. That was why he’d insisted she have a physical, and even though the doctor had given her the okay, it was on Clayton’s mental list to figure out a way to make things better for her.

“You could delay this interview,” Lenora reminded him.

He could, but it would just put off the inevitable. Clayton didn’t especially want to see Melvin. He’d written the man out of his life a long time ago. Seeing him would no doubt bring back memories that no longer mattered in the grand scheme of things. But what Melvin’s impending arrival had done was force Clayton to bring Lenora out into the open.

Despite all the beefed-up security, Clayton hadn’t wanted to leave her at the ranch, even though Dallas had offered to keep an eye on her. He trusted Dallas with his life, but Dallas’s hands were full, since Kirby, Stella, the nurse and the housekeeper were all there at the house.

And besides, Clayton wasn’t sure that Lenora wouldn’t try to run.

She had that look in her eyes—the fear that she was somehow putting him in even more danger by staying nearby. But Clayton figured this visit with Melvin could dispel that notion. Because if Melvin was the person behind the attacks, then Clayton himself, not Lenora, was the primary target.

He’d been careful on the drive from the ranch to the Marshals building, and had made sure they weren’t followed, but that didn’t mean she was safe even though they were surrounded by lawmen. Maybe she wasn’t safe anywhere.

“Cheer up,” his brother Declan said. “Maybe Melvin will resist coming in and the lieutenant will have to arrest him or something.”

“Maybe,” Clayton mumbled, though he didn’t want that happening with Lenora around.

Declan was at his desk, working. Or rather, appearing to work while keeping watch for Melvin’s arrival. Wyatt and Harlan were doing the same. Clayton, too, was at his desk trying to get through the mountain of paperwork that had been piling up in his absence, but it was hard to work with his mind flying in a dozen different directions.

“Showtime,” Harlan announced. “Lt. Ryland just pulled into the parking lot.”

And that meant the wait was finally over. For him, anyway. Clayton turned to Lenora, who was seated in the chair next to his desk.

“I know,” she said before he could speak. “You don’t want me to take any unnecessary chances.”

“I don’t even want you in the same room with him,” Clayton insisted.

He didn’t give her a chance to argue. Clayton led her to the observation room, where she’d be able to watch but Melvin wouldn’t be able to see her. Clayton’s boss, Saul Warner, was already in the interview room, working on some paperwork while he waited for Melvin to arrive. Clayton had offered to do the interview solo, but his boss had nixed that.

Probably a good thing, too.

Hard to be objective with a man he hated, and objectivity was something sorely needed in this investigation.

Thankfully, Clayton had found a few bits of info that Saul might be able to use in the interview. The problem was none of those bits in themselves would lead to Melvin’s arrest. They needed a confession, and barring that, they needed more evidence. Still, this interview was a start.

“Afraid I’ll punch Melvin if I get close enough to him?” Lenora joked.

Clayton appreciated her attempt to keep this light. Appreciated it even more when she idly brushed a kiss on his cheek. But then she froze and pulled back, as if she’d realized what she’d done. This wasn’t a steamy kiss like the one in his office, but it was yet another reminder they were becoming too comfortable with each other.

If their situation had been different, that would be a good thing. But when Clayton looked at her now, all he needed to see and remember was the danger.

He shut the door and turned just as a dark-haired guy in a white shirt and jeans walked in with Melvin. Lt. Ryland, no doubt. Melvin wasn’t cuffed, but the lieutenant had a firm grip on his arm. Ryland looked around the room and spotted Harlan, who took them toward the interview room.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Melvin said, his attention zooming straight to Clayton.

Clayton cursed the knot that tightened his stomach. Cursed even more the cobweb of images this man had left in his mind. He couldn’t remember his night of sex with Lenora, but he could recall in complete detail that Melvin had made his life a living hell.

It’d been years since Clayton had seen him, and those years had not been kind to him. He was still on the beefy side, but his hair was iron-gray now, and he had enough wrinkles that it was well past the stage of calling them character lines. Melvin Larson looked every bit of his fifty-six years and then some.

“He’s all yours,” the lieutenant said.

“Looks as if he cooperated,” Clayton mumbled.

“Yeah,” Ryland verified, and he sounded disappointed, too. Maybe Harlan had told him all about Clayton’s prize of a father. “But I’ll have to wash my car to get rid of the slime of snake oil he left behind. Hope you can take him down a notch or two. Better yet, arrest him for something. Anything.”

Clayton managed a smile, thanked Lt. Ryland and went into the interview room.

“Melvin Larson,” Saul greeted before Melvin had even taken a seat. “I’m Marshal Saul Warner, and you’re about to answer some questions.” Saul didn’t leave any room for doubt about that. It certainly wasn’t an invitation.

“I’d be glad to.” Melvin didn’t just sit. He lounged in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and tucking his hands behind the back of his neck.

Clayton blew out a long breath. He hadn’t forgotten how cocky the man was, but that was a stark reminder. So was his sheer size. When he was a kid, Clayton had been on the receiving end of Melvin’s fists, and even though that size didn’t intimidate him now, he recalled Quentin’s accusation—that Riggs had used Melvin as hired muscle. That was exactly the kind of job Clayton could imagine Melvin taking.

And enjoying.

“Always willing to lend a helping hand to the law,” Melvin added.

Saul, clearly not impressed with Melvin’s offer, gave him a flat look from over the top of his reading glasses. “I understand from Clayton here that you’ve been named as a person of interest in an attempted-murder investigation. Not just one attempt, either, but rather several of them.”

“Me?” Melvin drew that out a few syllables. “Must be mistaken. I’m a respected businessman. I import piñatas, serapes, leather belts and the occasional piece of silver jewelry.” He showed them his turquoise-and-coral-studded watch.

“I’ll make sure SAPD checks those piñatas for drugs,” Clayton said.

That caused some of Melvin’s cockiness to dissolve. “Always was an ungrateful son.”

“Always was a dirtbag of a father,” Clayton fired back.

Melvin shrugged. “Probably because I never wanted to be one.” He looked at Saul when he talked. “His cheap tramp of a mother ran out on us when he was five. Did my best to raise him right, but you know being saddled with a kid just wasn’t my idea of a good life.”

“But selling piñatas is.” Saul didn’t wait for an answer to that smart-mouthed comeback. “So, tell me, Mr. Larson, what’s your association with Adam Riggs?”

“Former association,” Melvin instantly corrected. If he was surprised by the question, he certainly didn’t show it.

“Your association,” Saul corrected right back, and he handed Melvin the paper that Clayton had given Saul earlier. “It took a little digging, but according to this, the money you used to open your business was funded through an offshore account owned by none other than Adam Riggs.”

Now there was a reaction. Melvin shot Clayton a glare that could have chipped solid stone.

He glared back at Melvin. “So what’s your association with Riggs?” Clayton repeated.

“He’s a minor investor in my business, that’s all.” And he dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

Clayton and Saul both mumbled some profanity, because they weren’t dismissing anything. “One more lie and I’m going to throw your sorry, lying butt in a jail cell,” Saul warned him. “And to make things fun, I’ll give Clayton the flippin’ keys while I take a long dinner break.”

Melvin’s glare got worse. “All right.” No more lounging. He sat up in the chair and pulled back his shoulders. “Riggs loaned me the entire amount for my import business, and in addition to the money I give him to repay the loan, he gets thirty percent of the net profits.”

That meshed with what Clayton had learned. It was a pricey loan, because along with the thirty percent, Melvin was paying interest on the loan itself. Over half his profits were going to Riggs. Of course, a man with Melvin’s history likely wouldn’t have been able to get a conventional loan, so Riggs might have been his only option.

Clayton went closer, put his hands flat on the table and leaned in. A clear violation of Melvin’s personal space. “So what kind of deal did you make with Riggs—that in exchange for killing me, he’d cancel your debts?”

“No.” Melvin volleyed glances at both of them, and maybe for the first time he realized this was serious. “No,” he repeated.

“Come on, are you saying you don’t want me dead?” Clayton pressed, staring at the man.

Melvin didn’t break the stare. “Well, I didn’t think so much about it until I came in here and you started accusing me of things I’m not doing. So yeah, maybe now I’m thinking about it, but I didn’t do anything to make it happen.”

“Does that mean you’re not Riggs’s hired hit man?” Saul pressed.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I don’t play hired gun for anybody. Riggs included. And I’m also thinking it’s time for a lawyer. Hell’s bells.” Melvin added some much-worse profanity. “I didn’t know I’d come in here and get accused of attempted murder.”

Melvin seemed genuine enough about that, but Clayton didn’t believe the man was innocent in all of this.

“I’m calling a lawyer,” Melvin insisted and took out his phone.

Saul gave Clayton a look that he needed no words to interpret. This interview was over until Melvin’s attorney arrived. However, before Melvin could make the call, Clayton heard voices in the hall, and he threw open the door to make sure something hadn’t happened to Lenora.

She was there in the doorway of the observation room, but she wasn’t alone. James was with her, and Harlan and Lt. Ryland were right behind the agent.

“What are you doing here?” Clayton asked James. He also stepped out so he could move in front of Lenora. He didn’t think James was stupid enough to try to pull something in a marshals’ office, but he wasn’t willing to take that chance. However, James no longer had his attention on Lenora.

It was on Melvin.

“Is he a suspect in the shootings?” James immediately asked.

“He’s a person of interest,” Clayton clarified. That was the official answer, but the truth was yeah, he was a suspect. “You know him?”

“I know of him.” James spared him a glance. “He’s your father.”

Lenora groaned. “Please don’t tell us he’s a criminal informant, too.”

“No. But he is someone that the task force investigated along with Riggs. We didn’t find enough evidence to arrest him, and he wasn’t trustworthy enough for us to use him in the sting operation that got us Riggs.”

Clayton hadn’t expected to be informed of any and all federal investigations, but it riled him that he hadn’t been told of this one. Especially since Melvin could be a hired assassin.

Clayton studied the body language of both men. James had on his lawman’s face. All business, all cop. But sweat popped out on Melvin’s face.

“I’m leaving,” Melvin announced. “You want to keep me here, arrest me. Then I can sue you for harassment.”

Clayton glanced at his boss, but Saul only shook his head. “We investigate and build a case if there is one. Then we make the arrest.” He turned back to Melvin. “Don’t leave the state, because I’ll be bringing your butt right back in here as soon as we have something,” he added.

Clayton wished he could stop Melvin from storming out of the room, but the irony was, the law was on Melvin’s side.

Melvin stopped right in front of James. “You’d better watch this one, Clayton.”

“What does that mean?” James demanded before Clayton could ask first.

But Melvin only gave that laid-back smile. Except this time, it didn’t look so laid-back. Melvin was spooked or something.

“You need a ride?” Lt. Ryland asked Melvin.

Melvin shot them all dirty looks. “No, I’ll find my own way back. I’ve had my fill of all of you badges.”

James watched Melvin leave and mumbled something that Clayton didn’t catch. “I’ll send over anything we have on him,” James offered. “It won’t be much, though, and certainly not enough to make an arrest. Still, it might be useful.”

Clayton thanked him, but that didn’t ease the suspicions he had about James. After all, the agent had essentially stopped the interview just by showing up. He hadn’t warned Melvin to stay quiet, but that’s exactly what he’d accomplished.

“My advice?” James said, talking to Saul now. “You need to stop Clayton and Lenora from digging into this investigation. God knows who Riggs hired to do his dirty work, but this is no time to have an assassin’s sights on Lenora.”

“I believe his sights are already on me,” Lenora reminded him.

“Then this is the time to lie low. If you won’t do it for yourself, then think of your baby.”

“We have been,” Clayton assured him. And it riled him that James believed he was only thinking of Lenora and the baby. “But it seems as if we keep getting the runaround from you. You dole out info only after the fact.”

Every muscle in James’s face went stiff. His mouth tightened. “Are you accusing me of something?”

Clayton lifted his shoulder. “Yeah. I thought it was obvious.”

“If you’ve got something to say, say it,” James insisted.

Clayton obliged. “You’re in debt up to your eyeballs from alimony and child support.”

Clearly, that didn’t please James. “My debts are none of your business.”

“They are if those debts are putting us in danger,” Lenora spoke up.

Clayton wasn’t sure which one of them got the icier glare from James. “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.”

Which, of course, clarified nothing, and there was certainly no dignity in dodging a question that could lead them to the person who wanted them dead.

Lenora moved closer, looked James in the eyes. “Quentin seems to think you have some files from his former business associates. Files that might have something to do with these men who are out to kill us.”

James made a sound of disgust. “And of course Quentin is telling the truth.” He cursed. “The only files I have are the ones you gave me after your investigation, and there’s nothing in them that could put your life at risk. The risk comes from Quentin.” He tipped his head toward the door where Melvin had exited. “Or from that piece of work who just left.”

“We’re keeping an eye on both of them,” Clayton quickly assured him. “But I consider you a person of interest, too. Just like my birth father and Quentin. I think any one of you could be working for Riggs.”

James’s glare became even more intense. “Prove it.” And with that challenge, James walked out.

“You really think he’s dirty?” Lt. Ryland asked.

“Hard to tell, but he’s been keeping secrets.” Like not telling them about his association with the hit man. “Plus, it seemed to me that Melvin shut up awfully fast when he saw James.”

Both Saul and Lenora made sounds of agreement.

“My brother’s FBI,” Ryland said. “I can have him make some calls and ask some questions.”

Clayton wasn’t about to refuse any help. “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

The lieutenant left, and since Lenora already looked exhausted, Clayton made plans to do the same. There was just one problem with that.

Where to go?

The ranch hands were still repairing the bullet damage to the house. Besides, Lenora might not even be able to rest there with the god-awful memories of the attack.

“I need to make arrangements for a safe house,” he let her know, and he scrubbed his hands over his face to give him time to catch his breath.

“You’re making the ranch safe,” she reminded him. “Plus, you know that’s where you need to be, since Kirby won’t leave and go elsewhere.”

No, Kirby wasn’t budging, but he couldn’t let that be a reason for returning. “I have to put your safety first.”

“And you can do that at the ranch.” She huffed, probably because she realized she wasn’t convincing him. “Look, I’m worried about bringing the danger to your family, but I don’t think it’ll go away just because we’re not there.”

She was right about that. No matter where they went, the gunmen would still likely come to the ranch looking for them. If only he could get Kirby to go somewhere with them. Of course, his foster father was known for his pigheadedness.

“Since Kirby’s not giving us a choice, I’d rather be surrounded by marshals I trust. Including you,” she added. “If I’m tucked away at a safe house, the worst could happen there. Another attack. Especially since Quentin and James don’t seem to have any trouble finding us.”

That was true. But he still wasn’t convinced. “A safe house is still our best bet.” He saw the argument in her eyes—that he couldn’t make any place safe enough—but then he saw something else. “You’re not thinking of running anymore.”

Lenora blinked, obviously surprised that he’d picked up on that. “Not thinking of it in the near future,” she corrected.

Well, that was a start, but it wasn’t nearly good enough. Not with the stakes this high. “We need to make the time to talk.”

She blinked, maybe troubled by that. Lenora and he always seemed to be on the same wavelength, so she probably sensed that the talk wouldn’t just be about her safety. Nope. They had some personal stuff to work out.

That didn’t include sex.

All right, maybe it did. But it included a whole lot more, and talking rather than sex was how they had to work things out between them.

Too bad his body was still trying to veto that idea.

“Talk,” she repeated. “Something we can do at the ranch. Let’s face it, Clayton. We don’t have to reinvent a safety net at the ranch. There’s one already in place. And besides, no lawman is going to give us as much backup as your family.”

“You trust them?” he asked, because he was certain that Lenora wasn’t exactly comfortable there.

“If you do, I do,” she confirmed.

Well, he certainly trusted them all right, but that didn’t mean this was the right choice.

On the other hand...

Maybe it was the bone-weary fatigue settling in or the realization that she was right—there was no safe place. But Clayton decided to go home, get some rest and hope that he could come up with a better solution for Lenora’s safety.

He only made it a few steps before his phone buzzed again. With everything that had gone on, the first thing he thought of was Kirby, that maybe there’d been another attack at the ranch. But it was Dr. Cheryl Landry’s name on the screen.

“Clayton?” the doctor said the moment he answered. “The guy you shot is finally out of surgery. We did the best we could, but he’s in critical condition.”

Not the best news he could have gotten, but at least the shooter was alive. That was a start.

“Can I talk to him?” Clayton asked.

“If he wakes up,” the doctor clarified. “My advice is to come to the hospital and wait, because, Clayton, when and if he regains consciousness, he’s not going to last long.”