One Night Standoff

chapter Six



Lenora kept her attention plastered to the side mirror. It’d been nearly an hour and a half since she’d last seen the two gunmen in the SUV, but she wasn’t taking any more chances. She’d already made enough stupid mistakes, and she couldn’t afford to make more.

Even though that might be exactly what she was doing now.

That’s because Clayton had insisted on driving them to his family’s ranch, which she estimated was now only a few miles away. She figured with six marshals living there the place was safe enough, but she hadn’t wanted to bring the danger to Clayton’s doorstep.

Soon, very soon, she’d need to make arrangements to leave Maverick County. The state. Heck, maybe even the country.

“Dead end,” Clayton mumbled when he finished his latest call to his brother.

Lenora had lost count of how many phone conversations there had been, all with his marshal brothers, but so far none of the calls had given Clayton and her any good news. This one didn’t sound any better.

From one of the calls, they’d learned that by the time the cops from Sadler’s Falls had made it to the farm road, the gunmen in the SUV had been nowhere in sight, and even a makeshift roadblock had failed to rein them in. Worse, recovering their spent shell casings from the woods and cemetery would probably turn out to be a needle-in-a-haystack search.

“The license plates on the SUV didn’t pan out,” Clayton relayed to her. “They were fake.”

Of course they were. Every indication was that these guys were pros, and they wouldn’t have made the mistake of using a vehicle that could be traced back to them or the person who’d hired them. Still, she’d hoped Clayton and she would get lucky.

“Dallas thinks he’s figured out how these guys found you,” Clayton added. “Apparently, the Sadler’s Falls newspaper ran a front-page article about the restoration of the stained-glass windows at the church. In addition to being printed and circulated, the story was posted on the newspaper’s online site.”

“But I used a fake name.” However, Lenora immediately realized that didn’t matter. “These guys had probably scoured the web, looking for anything to do with stained-glass restoration.” And the article had led them to her.

Yet another mistake on her part.

She shouldn’t have taken work doing any restoration, especially not in such a small town, where she couldn’t just blend in.

“These gunmen obviously used the same approach I did to find you,” Clayton reminded her. “That’s why you need to be someplace where I can keep you safe.”

In his mind, that someplace safe was the ranch.

“I really don’t like the idea of coming here,” she said again.

Again, he just seemed to ignore her, and he glanced at her stomach. “Are you okay?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked that, and Lenora nodded as she’d done before. To say she was okay would be a lie, but that was only because her nerves were frazzled and she was exhausted. She hadn’t been hurt, and she knew the baby was fine because he or she was kicking like crazy.

She considered plopping Clayton’s hands on her belly so he could feel those kicks as proof that the baby was truly okay, but that seemed almost intimate. Strange, considering they’d had sex, but he didn’t remember that one-night stand, and reminding him of it probably wasn’t a good idea. Not when she was trying to keep some emotional and physical distance between them.

“I guess it’s occurred to you that both attacks have come when we’ve been together,” she tossed out there. “And that’s a good reason for me not to be at the ranch. I don’t want anyone in your family hurt because of me.”

He turned off the main highway and onto a two-lane road. “That baby is part of my family.”

Oh, mercy. That sounded territorial, and while it was true that the baby was his, Clayton was in no shape for fatherhood. He’d been sharp and efficient when making the wrap-up calls about this latest shooting, but his bunched-up forehead let her know that he was in pain. Probably a heck of a lot more pain than he’d ever be willing to admit.

“Are you okay?” she asked, repeating his question.

That caused him to scowl, but then he winced at making the simple facial gesture. The pain was obviously getting worse.

He reached over, threw open the glove compartment and took out a prescription bottle. He shoved two pills into his mouth, gulped some water from the bottle on the console between them and threw the meds back in the glove compartment.

“I can drive,” she offered.

When he didn’t answer her, she grabbed some tissues from beneath his meds, wet them with water and pressed it to the back of his neck. At first he flinched as if he might push her hand away, but then he mumbled a thanks.

“My mother had migraines,” she explained. “She said a cool cloth helped sometimes.”

“It does,” he agreed a moment later. “But what’ll help more is to find the person responsible for these attacks.”

She had to agree with that, but so far they had zero leads. Well, except the most obvious one—Clayton and her.

“There’s only one motive I can think of as to why we’ve been attacked twice. Someone wants to eliminate us as witnesses to Jill’s murder. Without us, maybe Riggs’s lawyers might feel they can manipulate the evidence to get the charges reduced or dismissed.”

He made a sound of agreement. “So, Riggs maybe hired someone, but he would have needed help to orchestrate an attack like this. And I don’t mean just money kind of help. He’d need someone he could trust on the outside to do the legwork.”

Clayton took another turn onto an even narrower road, and she saw the sign for the Blue Creek Ranch. Clayton’s home.

Lenora shifted the wet tissues a little, and her fingers grazed the back of his neck. Clayton didn’t move, but he made another sound that might have been a grunt of pain.

But she rethought that.

Even though she couldn’t see his eyes behind those shades, the breath that left his mouth wasn’t of pain, but of discomfort.

Maybe it was this blasted attraction that still seemed to be between them. He probably wasn’t any more comfortable with it than she was. However, that didn’t make it go away.

“Any ideas who Riggs could have hired?” she asked, forcing her thoughts back on the only subject that she should be thinking about—this investigation.

“No one immediately comes to mind. What about you? Any ideas?”

“Yes,” she had to answer. “The task-force leader, James Britt. I told you that his behavior after your shooting was suspicious.”

“You didn’t talk to him about it?” Clayton immediately wanted to know. The concern was in his voice now, probably because he was worried that she’d tipped her hand and let James think she believed he was doing something illegal.

“No. In fact, I haven’t spoken to him since your shooting. He thinks I left the justice department because I was shaken by Jill’s murder. I was,” she added in a mumble.

“Yeah.” That’s all he said, but it was obvious from his expression he was thinking about it. She’d also slept with Clayton because she’d been shaken.

Lenora quickly moved on to something else that didn’t involve memories of sex with Clayton. “What about Corey Dayton, the gunman I shot at the diner? Did anything turn up on who might have hired him?” Because that could lead them back to Riggs.

“Nothing so far, but I need to take a harder look at everything. That includes a chat with the prison officials where Riggs is being held. I want to know who he’s had communications with. I need to check out his lawyers, too.”

Yes, a lot of work ahead, but first she had to deal with what else lay ahead. Literally. She looked out at the sprawling pastures and equally sprawling ranch house at the end of the road. In addition to hundreds of Angus cows, there were also about a half dozen ranch hands milling around and doing various chores.

“My foster father came from money,” Clayton offered, maybe because she seemed so shocked by the sheer size of the place. “But he was first and foremost a lawman.”

A marshal, she recalled from the background check she’d read on Clayton. Now retired, Kirby Granger had rescued not only Clayton but five other boys from the Rocky Creek Children’s Facility.

Clayton tipped his head to an older wood frame house near the front of the pasture. “My brother Harlan lives there. You remember meeting him.”

Yes, he’d given her the third degree about why she was visiting Clayton while they rode in the ambulance to the hospital. Lenora was pretty sure that Harlan didn’t like her much.

He pointed to another place, not nearly as large as the main ranch house. A one-story that looked to be recently built. “My brother Dallas and his fiancée, Joelle, live there. You probably won’t see much of Joelle while you’re here. She’s finishing up her job in Austin, but she’ll move here for good in a month or two and work for the D.A.”

A big family and it was getting bigger. The baby would add to that, and it was a reminder that all the marshals on the Blue Creek Ranch might want to be part of not just the baby’s life but her own.

Not exactly a settling thought.

She’d spent years being private. Secretive. An out-and-out liar on occasion. Now she was about to be under the same roof with people devoted to upholding the law.

Clayton pulled to a stop in the circular drive in front of the main house. Lenora was so caught up in looking at the grounds, pastures and sheer size of the place that it took her several seconds to notice the man and woman seated in the white rockers on the porch, which stretched all the way across the front of the house. The woman was in her late fifties or early sixties, with a sturdy build and graying auburn hair. The man was younger, mid-thirties, and he wore a white Stetson, starched white shirt and jeans.

“What the hell?” Clayton mumbled. Judging from his frown, these were not people he wanted to see.

“I told him it wasn’t a good time,” the woman said, getting to her feet the moment Clayton and Lenora stepped from the truck. She was frowning until her gaze landed on Lenora—specifically on her stomach—and the frown shifted to a puzzling glance at Clayton.

“Lenora, this is Stella Doyle, a friend of the family.”

Clayton’s introduction had some frost to it, but Lenora didn’t think it was aimed at Stella, but rather at the man. When he stood from the rocker, Lenora saw the badge pinned to his chest. Not a marshal—a Texas Ranger.

“Ranger Griffin Morris,” the man introduced himself. He extended his hand, but Clayton didn’t shake it. “I understand you had some trouble over in Sadler’s Falls. Is the sheriff handling that?”

“A lot of us are handling that,” Clayton grumbled. “At least we were before I had to stop to talk to you.”

“He wanted to come in,” Stella explained, her mouth tight, “but I told him it wasn’t a good time, that you two had just got shot at.” Her gaze softened. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Clayton snarled, and Lenora settled for a nod.

“He’s got a headache,” Lenora said to no one in particular and she wadded up the wet tissues that she’d held to the back of his neck.

“Even more reason this isn’t a good time,” Stella mumbled. Obviously, she wasn’t any happier about the Ranger’s presence than Clayton, so that probably meant he wasn’t here about the shooting.

“Where are Kirby and the others?” Clayton asked Stella. He went up the steps and onto the porch, out of the direct sunlight.

Stella hitched her thumb toward the door. “Kirby’s in his room, recovering from the radiation treatment he got today. The nurse is with him. Your brothers are all out working on finding those men who shot at you.” She looked at Lenora then. “Kirby has cancer and is bad off. Might not make it, but Ranger Morris here didn’t seem to understand that this isn’t a good time for a visit.”

Oh, Lenora figured he understood all right, but obviously he had some official reason for being here. A critical reason. Because if he hadn’t, Stella would have probably already managed to send him on his way.

“I’ll handle this,” Clayton told Stella. “Why don’t you go ahead and take Lenora inside while I talk to the Ranger.”

Stella aimed a huff at Ranger Morris and motioned for Lenora to follow her. “I’ll be inside in a minute,” Lenora explained to the woman. First, she wanted to make sure this visit had nothing to do with everything else going on, and if it did, she was staying to hear what Morris had to say.

The Ranger volleyed glances between Clayton and her as if he was checking with Clayton to make sure it was all right for her to be there.

“You’re here about Jonah Webb,” Clayton said to the Ranger. So, not about the shooting, but Clayton didn’t seem to be shutting her out of the conversation.

Lenora remembered hearing that the body of a man had been found several months earlier. Jonah Webb. He’d been head of the children’s home where Clayton was raised. It’d been a nightmare of a place, from all accounts, and Webb had been responsible for most of the bad stuff that’d gone on there.

“I remember reading that Webb’s killer was caught,” she said to the Ranger.

Morris nodded. “His wife, Sarah, confessed to the crime, but we have a lot of evidence to indicate that she didn’t act alone. She’s not a large woman, and someone would have almost certainly had to help her move the body from the second floor of the building and then bury it.”

Oh, mercy. Did the Rangers think Clayton had done that? “Did Sarah Webb name an accomplice?”

He shook his head. “And she’s in a coma. She’s been that way since she was shot three months ago.”

By Clayton’s foster brother Dallas. Lenora had read all those details, too. Dallas had been forced to shoot the woman when she tried to kill him and his soon-to-be wife, Joelle.

“I wanted Webb dead,” Clayton volunteered. “But I didn’t help Sarah kill him or dispose of the body. And no one else in my family did, either.”

Ranger Morris didn’t have a reaction to that and looked at the notepad he pulled from his pocket. “I saw in your medical records from Rocky Creek that you were running a fever the night Webb disappeared.”

“One hundred two degrees,” Clayton confirmed. “I slept through the night.”

“So a couple of your brothers said.” Morris drew in a long breath. “I guess you see the problem with that. All of you are each other’s alibis, but we know that Sarah had an accomplice who either lived in the facility or had access to it.”

“There were plenty of other kids living in that place,” Clayton explained. “I hope you’re looking as hard at them as you are at me and my brothers.”

“I am.” Morris paused. “And, of course, I’m looking into your father, too.”

“Kirby had nothing to do with this,” Clayton snapped.

He glanced at his notes again. “That’s the identical comment I got from all your brothers.”

“Because it’s not just a comment, it’s the truth.” Clayton didn’t hesitate.

The Ranger made a sound that could have meant anything. “I have to put this in my report, so I need to know if you saw or heard anything suspicious the night that Webb disappeared.”

“Nothing.” Again, no hesitation, but this time Clayton opened the door. “I need to get Lenora off her feet,” he added, and it had a definite goodbye tone.

Ranger Morris looked as if he wanted to demand that the interview continue, but Lenora slid her hand over her stomach. She wasn’t hurting, the baby had even stopped kicking, but she figured it would get Morris to back off.

It did.

He tipped his hat. “I’ll be in touch with you soon,” Morris assured him, and he walked off the porch toward a dark blue truck.

Clayton didn’t waste any time. He got her inside and shut the door, locked it, but he didn’t go far. He stopped and leaned the back of his head against the glass insert on the door.

“How bad is the headache?” she asked in a whisper. Lenora eased off his Stetson and put it on a peg hook next to the door. “And before you answer, I’d prefer the truth.”

“I’ve had worse,” he mumbled.

She was afraid that was indeed the truth, and it was a stark reminder that Clayton wouldn’t be going through this if it wasn’t for her. She was the reason he’d been shot in the first place.

Lenora pressed the wet tissues against his neck again. This time, the front. “Do the doctors have any idea how much longer you’ll get the headaches?”

He pulled off his glasses, hooked them on his jeans pocket and met her gaze. “They’re getting farther apart.”

She stared at him. “Do you do that a lot—dodge questions that you don’t want to answer?”

He made another of those noncommittal sounds, obviously still not planning to answer. That meant he might be dealing with these for the rest of his life.

The glass panel on the door made this part of the entry light, so Lenora took him by the arm and led him into the dark room on the right. It was a den with brown leather furniture, but thankfully all the blinds were closed on the row of windows on the far wall. Since she doubted that she could convince him to sit, Lenora put him back against the wall and continued to put the wet tissues on his throat.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled and would have moved away from her if she hadn’t blocked him with her body.

It didn’t take her long to realize that just wasn’t a good idea. Her breasts landed against his chest, and the close contact gave her another jolting reminder that Clayton was, well, hot. She’d thought it the first time she laid eyes on him, and apparently her body wasn’t about to reverse that opinion now.

She tried to step back, but this time it was Clayton who did the stopping. He snagged her by the wrist before she could put some distance between them. Lenora was about to tell him it wasn’t a good idea, but then she saw something other than pain in his deep-brown eyes. The heat, yes.

But maybe more.

“Do you remember?” she asked. She didn’t clarify—did he remember having sex with her—but Lenora figured they were on the same page here.

Their bodies seemed to be, anyway.

The air between them changed. So did the rhythm of her breathing. And even though she tried to level it, Lenora was reasonably sure she was giving off every signal a woman could give to a man to let him know she was interested. Definitely not a good idea, because she needed to get away from Clayton so he wouldn’t be attacked again.

It was a solid reason to move.

But she didn’t.

She huffed, beyond frustrated with herself. And worse. She still didn’t back away when Clayton leaned down, his mouth inching toward hers.

“This might help me remember.” His warm breath hit against her lips when he spoke.

And suddenly more than anything, Lenora wanted him to remember. Oh, and she wanted him to kiss her, too. Clayton might not have any memories of their one-night stand, but Lenora was well aware that he could set fires with his mouth.

He moved in closer. Closer. And she was just a breath away from kissing him again. Too bad she could already feel it and also too bad her body seemed to think this was foreplay, that Clayton would haul her off to bed again.

That wouldn’t happen.

Even if she desperately wanted it.

Her eyelids were already fluttering down, getting ready for that kiss, when Clayton stopped. It took her a moment to realize why. The baby was kicking, and with her body pressed against Clayton’s, he could feel it.

In that split second of time, the heat went from his eyes, and he slid his hand over her belly. Concern replaced the heat and the pain.

“Is the baby okay?” he asked.

It took her a moment to switch gears, and Lenora pushed away the attraction that she shouldn’t be feeling anyway. Especially not a time like this. “She’s fine.”

Clayton blinked. “She?”

Lenora shook her head when she realized what he was thinking. “I’ve had ultrasounds, but I was still trying to make up my mind about knowing the sex of the baby. So the tech didn’t tell me.”

His forehead bunched up again. “You went through the trauma of the shooting when you were...what...just two months pregnant? Are you sure that didn’t harm the baby in some way?”

“Positive. I had a checkup just last week.”

That didn’t ease the tension in his face. “And you need another one after what happened today.” He cursed again. “I should have already thought of it. Hell, I should have already taken you to the doctor.”

Lenora was about to assure him that she would indeed see her doctor as soon as she left the ranch, but Clayton pulled out his phone, scrolled through the numbers and made a call.

“Dr. Landry,” he said, then paused. “No, it’s not about Kirby. I need you to come out to the ranch, though. To examine someone.” He paused. “A pregnant woman in her second trimester.” Another pause, and he looked at her. “Are you having cramps or anything?”

“No,” Lenora quickly answered. She wanted to grab the phone and tell the doctor this wasn’t necessary.

But what if it was?

Lenora stepped back and tried not to think of the worst-case scenario, but she did anyway. She couldn’t lose this baby. And it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have a doctor check her out while she was making arrangements to leave and go someplace else.

“Dr. Landry’s on the way,” Clayton relayed to her as soon as he ended the call. “She’s not an obstetrician, but she does deliver some babies as part of her family practice.”

Before the last word had even left his mouth, Lenora heard the sound of a vehicle pulling to a stop in front of the ranch house. Normally, a sound that ordinary wouldn’t have shot renewed concern through her, but after the day Clayton and she had had, nothing felt normal and safe.

“You expecting anyone?” she asked.

“Maybe Ranger Griffin came back for round two.”

Clayton shoved back on his sunglasses and hurried to the door so he could look out the glass panel. He cursed.

Lenora hurried to his side, looked out at the visitor who’d just stepped from a black car, and she mumbled some profanity, too. This was not someone she wanted to see at the ranch. Not so soon after the latest attack.

James Britt, the head of the task force to which she’d once been assigned. Her handler. He was also her top suspect in these murder attempts.

With his hand over his gun, their suspect was making a beeline for the front door.