One Night Standoff

chapter Thirteen



Lenora had never felt safer—and more vulnerable—in her entire life. She literally had three federal marshals guarding her as they went into the Maverick Springs hospital.

Clayton, Harlan and Declan.

However, with a hired killer still at large, she knew they could be attacked anywhere, anytime.

That included the hospital.

“We won’t stay long,” Clayton reminded her again while he led her inside the building.

He had his phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear and was on hold. That didn’t stop him from making some vigilant glances around the parking lot and the waiting room on the other side of the sliding glass doors. His brothers did the same.

“If this guy doesn’t wake up soon,” Clayton added, “we’ll go back to the ranch and wait.”

That, too, was a risk, because they might not make it back into town fast enough if he did regain consciousness and start talking. They could miss something vital, and all because they were trying to keep her safe.

Something she wasn’t even sure was possible.

Clayton came to a quick halt in the waiting room, and for a moment Lenora thought he’d seen something or someone that might be a threat. But she soon realized he’d stopped because the FBI agent on the other end of the line, Kade Ryland, was giving him some information.

“We got a match on the wounded man’s prints. His name is Peter Lomax,” Clayton said the moment he ended the call, and he got them moving again, past the waiting room and down a wide corridor.

There weren’t a lot of people in this part of the hospital, just medical staff in scrubs, but the marshals looked at each one of them as possible threats.

“Peter Lomax.” Harlan tested the name as if deciding if it meant anything to him. He finally shook his head. “How long of a record does he have?”

“Long,” Clayton verified. “In and out of jail since he was sixteen. He’s worked for loan sharks and other lowlifes. But the good news is that he often works with his kid brother, Johnny. Agent Ryland’s already put out an APB on the guy.”

Good. They had a likely name for the second man who’d tried to kill them, and maybe the FBI or marshals could find him before he launched another attack. Of course, Riggs or whoever was behind this could just hire someone else.

Not a comforting thought.

It would take some doing, but if Riggs was indeed the culprit, they needed to find a way to cut off his funds so he couldn’t do any more harm.

They hadn’t made it to the surgical waiting area when Lenora spotted a familiar face coming up the hall toward them. Dr. Cheryl Landry.

“Any change in the patient?” Clayton asked. “Is he awake yet?”

“No to both questions. But come this way,” the doctor said to them. “You can wait in my office.”

It wasn’t far, just a few doors down, and with her attention fully on Lenora, Dr. Landry ushered them inside, and then closed the door. “Right before the wounded guy was brought in, I got a call from Special Agent James Britt.”

Clayton and his brothers mumbled, groaned and otherwise showed their disapproval about that.

“About me?” Lenora asked.

The doctor nodded and wearily dropped down into the chair behind her desk. “He was fishing to find out if I thought you were mentally competent or if you’d been brainwashed or something.”

Clayton cursed. “Let me guess—he’s trying to force Lenora into his protective custody, or something along those lines.”

“Sure sounded like it to me,” Dr. Landry verified, “but I told him Lenora was my patient and that I had no intentions of divulging anything about her.”

“Thank you.” Lenora eased into a chair, as well. She was relieved that the doctor hadn’t told James anything, but she felt no relief that James had attempted to do something like this. Of course, if pressed, James would probably say he was just concerned about her.

And that might be the truth.

The problem was it was just too risky to trust him.

Clayton slid his hand around the back of her neck, rubbed gently. “James might not be the person out to get us, but there’s no way I’d let him take you into protective custody.”

She believed him, but Lenora hated that they had another distraction at a time when they were already dealing with too much.

“If he calls back,” Dr. Landry said, “I’ll transfer him to the hospital lawyer. That might get him to back off.”

“Agent Britt could be the one who hired the guy you just operated on,” Clayton warned Dr. Landry. “Be careful around him.”

“I will.” The doctor looked at the position of Clayton’s hand and then Lenora’s stomach. “If you want, I can arrange for you to have an ultrasound. For your own peace of mind,” she quickly added, probably because she saw the alarm in Lenora’s eyes.

Lenora nodded, thanked her again. With everything that’d happened, it might help if she could see her baby. The other checkup the doctor had given her hadn’t included one.

“The nurse will call me if our guy wakes up.” Dr. Landry went to the door, opened it and then froze. That’s because someone was standing there.

Clayton automatically reached for his gun and stepped in front of Lenora. Harlan pulled the doctor behind him, and both he and Declan drew their weapons, as well.

Quentin was in the doorway.

The man laughed nervously and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Jumpy, aren’t you?”

Lenora groaned at the joking tone and the fact he was there at all. “Nearly being killed will make anyone jumpy,” she mumbled, and despite Clayton’s attempts to stop it, she stepped out from behind him.

“What the heck are you doing here?” Lenora demanded.

Quentin lowered his hands, lifted his shoulder. “I just wanted to speak to you.”

Clayton moved in front of her again. “Not going to happen. The last time we spoke to you at the ranch, someone tried to gun us down.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that,” he huffed. “Look, there’s no way I would hire someone to kill Lynnie. I want to save her.”

“Not very convincing,” Clayton fired back.

Since it was clear that Clayton wasn’t going to let her face down Quentin, Lenora peered over his shoulder so she could make eye contact with him. She didn’t want him to miss her glare.

“How’d you know I was here?” she snapped.

“I guessed.” Quentin snapped, too, but some of the anger and tension melted away. “It’s all over town about the man the marshal shot, and I figured he’d come here to check on the guy. Didn’t figure he’d let you out of his sight.”

“I’m not,” Clayton verified. “And that’s your cue to leave.” He moved to shut the door, but Quentin blocked it with his foot.

“Move or you’ll be sorry,” Clayton said.

She didn’t have to see his expression to know that every muscle in his face had turned to iron. She could hear it in his voice.

But Quentin didn’t move. He reached in his pocket, causing all three marshals to train their guns on him.

“It’s just a piece of paper,” Quentin snarled. He stared at Clayton. “If you want proof of who’s trying to kill you, call off your trigger-happy kin.”

Clayton didn’t say a word, and none of them lowered their guns. After several long moments, Quentin cursed, and using just two fingers he extracted a single sheet of paper from his pocket. Maybe because Harlan was the closest one to him, Quentin handed him the paper. However, before Harlan could even read it, the doctor’s phone beeped. She looked down at the screen.

“Our patient is awake,” she said.

And that meant they had to wrap up this conversation—or whatever the heck it was—with Quentin.

“Are these numbers for some kind of account?” Harlan asked, and then he handed the paper to Clayton. Lenora looked as well, but they weren’t familiar.

“One of Riggs’s offshore accounts,” Quentin supplied. “If you do a little digging, I think you’ll see that Riggs had twenty-five thousand dollars transferred the day before those gunmen showed up at the church.”

“How did you get this information?” Harlan asked at the same moment that Clayton asked, “Who received this money?”

“A friend of a friend told me about this,” Quentin said, looking at Harlan first. Then he turned to Clayton. “I can’t prove it, but my guess is your daddy was on the receiving end of the money. I haven’t been able to get access to his accounts, but I’m thinking Melvin hid the cash he got from Riggs in his business. Wouldn’t be hard to do.”

Not with an import business, it wouldn’t. All it’d take would be to falsify some orders. Like on silver watches.

“I’ll start looking,” Harlan volunteered, and he took the paper back from Clayton. “Should I take Mr. Helpful here into custody?”

“For what?” Quentin howled. “I’m trying to save your butts.”

Clayton made a yeah-right sound. “Or maybe trying to help yourself by putting the blame on others. Report to the marshals’ office for further questioning. Oh, and if you don’t show up, there’ll be an APB out for your arrest.”

That caused Quentin to curse a blue streak.

“Hate to rush this,” Dr. Landry said, “but this patient might not hang on much longer.”

When the doctor started for the door, Quentin stepped back, probably because Harlan looked ready to knock him to the floor.

“You’re welcome,” Quentin snarled with his trademark sarcasm.

“I’ll thank you if and when this pans out,” Clayton let him know. He took Lenora by the arm and followed the doctor. Harlan and Declan were right behind them, and all of them, including the doctor, kept an eye on Quentin.

“He’s dangerous, too?” Dr. Landry asked.

“Probably.” Unlike Quentin’s, Clayton’s tone was apologetic. “I’ll make sure security has photos of both Quentin and Agent Britt. And I’ll arrange a guard for our shooter.”

“The sheriff’s already sent over a deputy,” the doctor let him know. “You don’t think that’ll be enough?”

“Not in this situation,” Clayton answered.

It hit Lenora then that the shooter was probably in just as much danger as Clayton and she were. After all, if his boss thought he was talking, or might talk to the marshals, then someone would try to eliminate him.

She glanced back at Quentin, who was still in the hall.

“Yeah,” Clayton said, as if he knew what she was thinking. “If Quentin’s still here when we finish talking with this guy, I’ll have Harlan escort him to a holding cell at the headquarters.”

Good. Lenora only wished they could hold Quentin indefinitely. Melvin and James, too. That way there’d be no more threat. Well, until Riggs hired someone else.

They wound their way through the maze of halls to the surgical ICU, and there was indeed a deputy outside one of the doors. He had a stocky build and round face. Maybe too young to face down anyone Riggs might send to silence the guy. Clayton was right to add more security.

“Marshals,” the deputy greeted. According to his name tag he was Randy Wells, and he seemed to know Harlan, Declan and Clayton. Of course, since they were all lawmen, they had probably worked some cases together.

The deputy stepped aside so they could enter. She immediately spotted the man in the bed and knew this must be the person who’d tried to kill them, but he no longer seemed a formidable foe. His watery, weak eyes opened, and the moment his gaze landed on Clayton he wiggled his fingers, motioning for him to come closer.

Lenora wasn’t sure she wanted Clayton closer to the man, but she doubted Peter Lomax was in any shape to launch another attack.

“I need a deal.” Lomax’s voice was a gravelly whisper, and each word was a struggle.

“What kind of deal?” Clayton asked.

“For my brother, Johnny.” And that’s all he said for several seconds. Lomax used that time to gather his breath. Or rather, try. He started to wheeze, prompting the doctor to check the machines.

“I have something that’ll be useful to you,” Lomax finally continued. “And I’ll trade it for a lighter sentence for my brother.”

“He took shots at us,” Clayton reminded him.

“He was following my orders.” Lomax pulled in a shallow, ragged breath. “And if you want to know whose orders I was following, then you gotta swear to give Johnny a break.”

Clayton, Harlan and Declan exchanged glances. “All right,” Clayton agreed, though Lenora had no idea if he truly would go through with it.

With his eyes barely open, Lomax studied him as if trying to decide if Clayton was telling the truth. Maybe he had his doubts, too, but if so, he didn’t voice them. Of course, he didn’t have a lot of options here. It was obvious that he was dying, and he might bargain with the devil to get what he wanted.

Lomax finally nodded. “It’s in a wall safe at my sister’s place up in Abilene.” And with that, his eyelids fluttered back down again.

“What’s in the safe?” Clayton asked when Lomax didn’t continue.

“A recording.” Lomax repeated his answer in a soundless mumble.

Clayton moved closer, until he was looming over the man. “What kind of recording?”

One of the machines made a shrill sound. “Everyone out now,” Dr. Landry ordered.

“What recording?” Clayton pressed as they moved out of the room and back into the hall with Deputy Wells. “What recording?”

But Lomax didn’t answer. In fact, he didn’t draw another breath. A nurse pushed them aside and hurried into the room, shutting the door.

“I’ll call the marshals in Abilene and get them started on a search warrant for his sister’s place,” Declan offered. He took out his phone, mumbled some profanity. “No signal in here.” He glanced around as if he might consider leaving, but then shook his head. “It can wait a few minutes until we hear what the doc has to say.”

Those few minutes passed slowly, and all of them kept watch just in case Quentin was still hanging around. No sign of him, though, and the doctor finally opened the door. One look at her face and Lenora knew that Lomax was gone.

Dr. Landry shook her head. “Honestly, I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. I hope you got what you needed from him.”

“Maybe.” Clayton sounded cautiously hopeful.

Lenora knew how he felt. God only knew what was on the recording, but maybe it would indeed give them the name of the person who’d hired Lomax and his brother.

Clayton thanked Dr. Landry, and with Deputy Wells trailing along behind them, they started back down the hall. Still no sign of Quentin, but the moment they rounded the first corner, she saw someone else she didn’t want to see.

James.

As he usually did, Clayton tried to step in front of her, but Lenora maneuvered around him so she could face James down. “If you’re here to find out if I’m mentally competent, the answer’s yes, and I want you to back off. I no longer work for you, and I won’t have you meddling in my life.”

All in all, it was a warning without teeth. There wasn’t much she could do to get him to back off, but she was tired of staying silent while James tried to run roughshod over her.

“It’s not meddling.” James gave each of them a glance. “I’m here in an official capacity to question Peter Lomax.”

“Too late,” she told him. “He just died.”

If James had a reaction to that, Lenora didn’t see it. “Questioning him is just one reason I’m here.”

Mercy. She didn’t like the sound of that.

“You’re not putting Lenora in protective custody,” Clayton insisted.

“No.” And judging from the way his mouth tightened, James didn’t approve of it. “But the FBI is taking over this investigation. I plan to find Johnny Lomax and interrogate him until he breaks.”

Harlan cursed. “Under whose authority? Johnny Lomax isn’t a federal fugitive.”

“Doesn’t have to be if the local sheriff requests FBI assistance.”

Clayton glanced back at the deputy, who only shrugged. “Sheriff Geary called in the FBI?” Clayton asked James.

“He did. And I’m the lead agent assigned to the investigation.” James shoved his thumb against his own chest. “So, anything you learned from Peter Lomax, you’re to tell me now.”

None of them volunteered a thing, not even Deputy Wells.

“Fine,” James spat out. “Play all the games you want, but if you try to get any kind of search warrant or APB relevant to this case, I’ll have all your badges.”

With that warning, James pushed past them and headed up the hall, not in the direction of the exit, but straight toward Dr. Landry, who was outside the dead man’s door.

“Let’s go,” Clayton said, hurrying them out of there. He looked back at the deputy. “You might not want to hear what I’m about to do. Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with Sheriff Geary.”

The deputy confirmed that with a nod and got out of there fast.

“Should I call and get that search warrant?” Harlan asked.

Clayton shook his head. “I’ll do it. I need to get that recording before the FBI does.” Because if James got it first, he might try to destroy it.

He took out his phone and made the call.