One Night Standoff

chapter Eight



Lenora forced herself to eat, though the way her stomach was churning, she wasn’t sure she could keep it down. Still, she did it for the baby’s sake. And for Clayton’s. She was tired of seeing the worry in his eyes.

Worry that she’d put there.

Worry that was now mirrored in his brothers’ eyes, too.

There were three of them at the dinner table—Harlan, Wyatt and the youngest, Declan. Stella, the family friend, was there as well, and even Clayton’s foster father, Kirby. The man was in a wheelchair and looked every bit as sick as Clayton had said he was—salt-white hair, and his veiny skin seemed paper thin. He wasn’t eating but instead had an IV bag hooked up to his arm.

An odd gathering indeed.

There seemed to be lots of silent communication going on, as if they were all wired into each other’s thoughts. Except for her, of course. While all of Clayton’s family seemed sympathetic to the danger she and the baby were in, she figured there was a massive amount of suspicion, too. Probably because of her criminal past.

“You okay?” Clayton asked her.

Lenora realized she was staring at the plate of lasagna again, so she took another bite and nodded. “It’s my first time eating with four lawmen.” She wanted to keep the conversation light since the mood was anything but. “I keep waiting for one of you to read me my rights and arrest me.”

Her attempted humor didn’t work that well. The corner of Clayton’s mouth lifted. Stella’s, too. But the remaining trio of marshals and their foster father didn’t crack a smile, and the quiet tension returned.

They had plenty to discuss, but no one was discussing it. Maybe because they were all so familiar with what was going on. Or maybe the lack of discussion was to spare her feelings. It wasn’t working, but then discussing the investigation wouldn’t help in that department, either.

All afternoon Clayton had tried—and failed—to get more info on James’s association with the dead man who’d shot Clayton. Ditto for more info on Quentin. He was a suspect now, along with James, and either one of them could be working for Riggs. However, Clayton had been able to find out that James was in serious debt from two failed marriages and child-support payments. Maybe the debt had made him desperate enough to turn to Riggs for cash and murder for hire.

“Heard you got a clean bill of health from the doctor,” Stella commented.

It took Lenora a moment to realize the woman was talking to her. She nodded. Dr. Cheryl Landry had given Lenora a checkup and said all was well. A huge relief. Despite all the craziness going on, her baby was still her first priority.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Stella continued, “how long have Clayton and you been together?”

Lenora nearly choked on the bite of lasagna she’d just taken. She looked at Clayton, trying to figure out what or what not to say.

“We’re not actually together,” Clayton answered.

“The baby wasn’t planned,” Lenora added.

“But he or she is still very much wanted,” Clayton added, as well.

That caused the others to glance around. If there’d been a picture of awkward in the dictionary, this would have been it.

“A grandbaby,” Kirby said, his voice a weak whisper. “Always wanted one of those.”

Stella nodded. “Well, if you’d asked me which of Kirby’s boys would be the first to be a daddy, I wouldn’t have said Clayton or Slade. Wyatt, for sure.”

Wyatt didn’t say a thing.

Clayton scraped his fork over the cheesy top of the lasagna but didn’t eat it. In fact, he was eating less than Lenora was. “You don’t think I’m father material?” he asked Stella.

“Didn’t say that. I think you’ll make a fine one, but before Kirby brought you here to the ranch, none of you boys exactly had good role models for daddies.”

Lenora remembered the discussion with the Ranger investigating Webb’s murder. And there were also the notes she’d read about Clayton’s childhood. It’d been miserable. But then, so had hers.

“I didn’t know my dad,” Lenora said without thinking. It definitely wasn’t something she volunteered often, but somehow it seemed less awkward than discussing her own pregnancy or Clayton’s qualifications as a father. “My parents never married, and my mom never even told me my dad’s name until after he’d died.”

Clayton looked at her from the corner of his eye. Frowned and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

Yes. So was she, and unfortunately her mother’s actions had affected Lenora’s own. Sometimes for the good. Others, not so much. She’d gone through life needing her father, and she had learned his identity too late.

“I’m hiring a surrogate,” Wyatt said out of the blue.

It was suddenly so quiet, Lenora could hear her own heart beating. Judging from everyone’s expression, this was unexpected news. But at least the attention was off her for the time being.

“Before Ann died, we’d planned on having kids,” Wyatt went on. His gaze swung to Lenora’s. “Ann was my wife, and she passed away years ago from a rare blood disorder.”

“I’m sorry.” And she was. She didn’t know Wyatt well, but she could see the pain still in his eyes.

“I’ve always wanted a kid,” Wyatt added. Not defensively. He had a smoothness about him. Not just in his voice but his expression. “I figured I might never find another woman like Ann. In fact, I’ve decided I want to quit looking, so I’m hiring a surrogate.”

“You think the timing is wise?” Harlan asked. “We’re all pretty much suspects as an accessory to Jonah Webb’s murder. And unless his wife comes out of a coma and clears our names, we’re likely to stay suspects.”

With everything else going on, Lenora hadn’t given that investigation much thought, but it was clearly a dark cloud hanging over all of them.

“The Rangers could be investigating Webb’s death for years,” Wyatt argued. “After that, it could be something else. The job, the ranch, you name it. I figure there’s no perfect time to be a father, and I don’t want to put my life on hold.” He paused. “Besides, next week would have been Ann’s thirty-second birthday, and that’s when we’d planned to start our family.”

Stella made a sound of agreement, but that was the only response for several moments.

“How many embryos did Ann and you store before her treatments started?” Kirby asked.

Now Wyatt looked uncomfortable. “Only one was viable.”

Lenora guessed that one viable embryo might not be enough to assure a pregnancy. She felt for Wyatt, but her level of discomfort went up a notch for another reason. This was a family discussion about a private matter, and she shouldn’t be part of it. Still, it didn’t seem right to just stand up and excuse herself.

“So there’s to be two kids. Yours and Clayton’s,” Harlan grumbled. He was opposite of the smooth Wyatt. His voice was a rusty growl, and his sheer size made him intimidating.

“He’s just worried he’ll have to change diapers,” Stella joked and gave Harlan’s beefy arm a playful jab with her finger. Her expression turned more serious when she looked back at Wyatt, then Clayton. “News like this is good for the family and for you. Isn’t that right, Kirby?”

Kirby made a sound that could possibly have been agreement. Everyone’s attention came back to Clayton and Lenora again. Maybe because everyone was waiting for them to verify they would indeed be a family.

Something she couldn’t verify at all.

Thankfully, the sound of the footsteps gave her a reprieve. But when she saw that it was another marshal brother, Dallas, Lenora wasn’t sure it was much a reprieve this time.

“Sorry to interrupt your dinner.” Dallas dropped the folder on the table next to Clayton. “Agent James Britt had it delivered to the office. It’s the file on Quentin Hewitt, and I thought you’d want to see it right away.”

“I do.” Clayton pushed his plate aside to make room so he could open the folder.

“Agent Britt’s still not returning my calls, though,” Dallas added, looking at Clayton. “Did you manage to get in touch with him?”

“No.” And Clayton clearly wasn’t pleased about that. Neither was she. Because they wanted answers about James’s association with the dead hit man. “I’ve gone over his head and called his boss. Maybe that’ll get some kind of reaction.”

It would. But Lenora prayed it was a reaction that didn’t lead to another attack.

Lenora pushed away her plate, too, and moved closer to Clayton so she could see what was inside the folder. Hopefully no more surprises. She’d already had enough of those for one day.

The first thing in the folder was a report saying that Quentin had disappeared from WITSEC five months earlier and included accounts of the three sightings of him since then. One of those sightings had been on a gas-station security camera in San Antonio. Another at a bank in Austin, where he’d accessed a safe deposit box. Probably where he had some cash stashed.

The third sighting, however, put her heart in her throat.

Oh, mercy.

Two days before Clayton was shot at the diner, Quentin had been spotted outside her house in Eagle Pass. Clayton lifted the report and underneath were copies of photos.

Definitely Quentin.

And he was skulking around her house. Specifically, outside her back door.

“Who took these photos?” Lenora immediately asked, and she picked them up to have a better look.

Clayton put his attention on the rest of the report. “Says here that the task force had you under surveillance. For your safety.” His tone was skeptical, and for a good reason. The leader of the task force, James, was one of their other suspects. “And an agent took the pictures.”

She wanted to curse. “I guess it didn’t occur to James to tell me that someone from my past, a man who might want to harm me, was hanging around my house in the dark.”

And maybe even doing the break-ins.

Someone certainly had. And they hadn’t just hung around. The person had broken in, destroyed an expensive antique panel and vandalized the place.

Why hadn’t this been reported to the cops who were investigating the break-ins? But Lenora didn’t need anyone to answer that.

She knew.

If James or anyone else on the task force had reported it, then it would have blown Quentin’s identity in WITSEC. Of course, Quentin had already skipped out of WITSEC by then, but maybe James hadn’t reported it because he would have had to explain her association with Quentin. That might be classified.

But still...

Lenora got up from the table. “I need to talk to James. And Quentin.”

Clayton was already shaking his head when he turned to her, and he stood, as well. “Too dangerous.”

“Not if I take precautions.” She had to tamp down the frustration just so she could speak. How dare James do this to her and not even have the guts to tell her when he was face-to-face with her.

None of the lawmen or even Stella looked as if they were willing to help her contact the men. That wouldn’t stop her.

“Do you even know how to get in touch with Quentin?” Clayton asked.

“Not directly, but maybe I can still reach him. Before he went into WITSEC, when he still thought we were on the same side, Quentin said if I ever needed to get in touch with him, I should send him an email. He apparently set up the account just for the two of us to use, and he gave me the password.”

“And did you ever use it?” Clayton wanted to know.

“No,” she quickly answered. “Never had a reason to communicate with him.” Her gaze snapped back to the photo of him on her porch. “Until now.”

Clayton huffed. “How would emailing him help?”

“An email might not tell me anything, but talking to him would.” She waited a moment until the groans died down. “I could try to make contact with him and then give him the number of a prepaid cell that he couldn’t trace.”

Yet more groans, grumbles and plenty of raised eyebrows.

“I’ve known Quentin for years, and I think I can tell if he’s lying when I ask him if he wants me dead. If he’s not behind this, then James probably is.”

“We have a secure laptop so she can send the email,” Harlan offered. “A burner, too,” he added, using the slang term for a prepaid phone.

Clayton shook his head, apparently ready to nix it, but Dallas spoke first. “It might take us days or longer to find Quentin so we can question him. This might be the fastest way to get answers. And it doesn’t put Lenora or you in danger.”

It was a good argument, but Clayton still didn’t jump to agree. When he finally cursed, she knew he’d just conceded.

Harlan left the dining room, and a few minutes later he came back with both a phone and a laptop. He turned on the cell, booted up the laptop and went to a secure server. She put in the email address that included the name of his company plus her birth year.

Her hands were shaking when she wrote: “Are you there, Q? Call me. We need to talk.”

She typed in the cell number, hit Send and then held her breath. If the message bounced, then it meant Quentin hadn’t kept the account active. After all this time, that was a distinct possibility.

But it didn’t bounce.

That didn’t mean it wouldn’t eventually. It also didn’t mean Quentin would answer right away, or at all, but this was the first step to try to reach him.

“It could take hours for him to respond,” Clayton reminded her. “Why don’t you finish your dinner and then get some rest? I can monitor the computer and the phone. You’re in the guest room just across from my room, so I can come and get you if he calls or emails.”

She wanted to refuse, since she hated putting this unpleasant duty on Clayton’s shoulders, but the truth was, she was exhausted.

“But you need rest, too,” she pointed out. She knew for a fact he’d been battling that headache since the attack at the church.

“I can rest,” he assured her. “The computer will beep if a message comes in.”

Good. It meant he could sleep. Well, maybe. After everything they’d been through today, sleep wasn’t going to be a sure thing.

“Thank you,” she told him, and Lenora finished her glass of milk. Like the lasagna, she didn’t want it, but she couldn’t neglect her health.

“If Quentin calls you back,” Stella said, “maybe Clayton can put the fear of God into him. A badge can do that to some men. Especially men with plenty to hide.”

“A lead bullet makes a stronger impression than a tin badge,” Kirby mumbled.

It seemed an odd thing for a former lawman to say, but Lenora had to agree with him on this. If Quentin was out to kill Clayton and her, then she would do anything to stop him. There was no way she wanted Clayton taking a life and risking death for her again.

They said good-night to the others, and Clayton put the burner phone in his pocket and the laptop under his arm before they made their way up the stairs.

“Tomorrow I’ll need to arrange to talk with Riggs,” Clayton said on the walk to the guest room.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. She knew Riggs would have to be interviewed, but she dreaded Clayton having any contact with Jill’s killer. But Lenora wanted to hear what Riggs, like Quentin, had to say about this latest shooting.

“I won’t go to the prison, though,” Clayton continued. “I’ll try to set up a computer interview here at the ranch. That way you’ll be able to watch.”

“Thank you.” And she was thankful that they might get some answers, but more than anything she just wanted it to be over because it felt as if someone were picking at all of her old wounds.

Clayton opened the guest-room door and turned on the light for her. Earlier, he’d shown her the room so she knew where it was in the maze of upstairs rooms, but she was surprised and thankful to see the clothes and toiletries lying on the king-size bed. The items hadn’t been there before, and with everything else going on, it had slipped her mind that she had nothing else to wear.

“Dallas’s fiancée, Joelle, sent over the clothes,” Clayton explained. “Not sure if they’ll fit, but maybe you can make do.” And his gaze skimmed over her body.

“Yes,” she mumbled, sliding her hand over her belly. “I’m not exactly thin these days.”

“It suits you.” His gaze moved to her eyes now, and the comment seemed a little more than just a reassurance. It had a trace of the heat they’d been battling all day.

Actually, ever since they’d met.

Clayton cleared his throat. “The Sadler’s Falls sheriff is arranging for someone to get your things from the hotel where you were staying. And your car.” He paused. “That doesn’t mean I want you trying to leave. If you don’t want to stay here for your sake, then I want you to think of the baby.”

Since she had been thinking about leaving, that hit a nerve. “Being here puts you in danger,” she reminded him.

“Your leaving would put me in even more,” he quickly answered. “Because I’d go looking for you. All my brothers would, too, and it’d tie up resources that we should be using to find the person behind the bullets.”

She frowned. Because it made sense.

“We have over a dozen ranch hands,” he added. “Plus, the house has a security system wired to every window and door. I can’t swear you’ll be one hundred percent safe here, but I can say that I’ll do anything to protect the baby and you.”

And that’s what she feared, that she would get Clayton shot again. Still, she wouldn’t refuse his offer of protection. For now, anyway.

She nodded and expected her tentative agreement would spur a good-night from him. But he didn’t move. He did give her another of those heated looks again, then mumbled something she didn’t catch.

“Yes,” she agreed. “This is a distraction we don’t need.” She didn’t clarify this, because Lenora was certain he knew what it meant.

“I’m trying to remember why it wouldn’t be a good idea to kiss you.”

That robbed her of her breath and a good chunk of her common sense. “Because we have other things we should be doing.”

“We’re waiting,” he pointed out, tipping his head to the laptop.

True. But there were other reasons. Ones that took a moment to recall. “You don’t even remember being with me.”

“My body does.”

Oh, mercy. It was a bad reminder, and Lenora forced herself to remember there would be consequences for something as simple as a kiss.

“There’s the baby.” Her voice was whispery now. “You’re still dealing with the notion of parenthood with a practical stranger. It’s probably best to work that out before we add anything else to the mix.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. And he even added a nod. But that wasn’t agreement in his eyes.

Clayton reached out, slid his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to him. His mouth was on hers before the little sound of surprise could make it past Lenora’s throat.

The pleasure was instant and so were the memories of their other kisses that had landed them in bed. That should have been a big red-flag warning to Lenora. She should have just pulled away.

But she didn’t.

She kissed him right back.

Kissing him was like sipping expensive whiskey. And lots of it. She felt drunk and completely aroused after just a few seconds.

He wasn’t exactly gentle. There was an urgency in the kiss that raced through her like wildfire. He deepened it, reminding her of his taste and also reminding her that he was very good at this.

Without breaking the kiss or the hold he had on her neck, Clayton eased the laptop onto the dresser, hooked his arm around her waist and brought her even closer to him. His body against hers.

Oh, yes. More memories that she didn’t need.

Did that stop her? No. Lenora took everything she shouldn’t be taking and allowed the heat to slide over every part of her.

It didn’t take long for the urgency and hunger to get stronger, and while he took her mouth as if he owned it, they began to grapple for position. Trying to get closer to each other. Not exactly possible with her baby bump, but soon it seemed as if every part of her was touching every part of him.

Well, almost.

There was a part of her burning for a touch of a different kind, and she had very vivid memories of that, too. Clayton wasn’t just a good kisser. He had carried that good directly into bed.

And if she didn’t stop, that’s exactly where they’d land now.

Lenora forced herself to move away from him. Not easy to do. That unsatisfied part of her let her know it wasn’t pleased with her decision. But it was the right thing to do, and she was certain when her body cooled down that she would remember why it was right.

Maybe.

“Did it bring back any memories?” she asked, trying once again to keep things light. Hard to stay light, though, with her breath gusting, and she was sure her face was flushed with arousal.

He was pulling in hard breaths, too. “Not yet. Maybe we should experiment one more time.” And then he smiled.

Her stomach did a flip-flop, because that smile was a powerful weapon in his manly arsenal. She wondered how many women that smile and those kisses had seduced.

But she really didn’t want to know anything about his previous lovers, so she pushed that uneasy thought aside. It became even more uneasy, because it shouldn’t have made her uneasy in the first place.

Good grief.

She was falling for him.

Hadn’t her experience with men taught her anything? She sucked at relationships, and if the danger didn’t tear them apart first, she’d find some way to mess it up. She always did. She had literally failed at every relationship she’d ever had. That couldn’t happen this time. She needed to stay on good terms with her baby’s father.

But not too good.

Definitely no more landing in bed.

She’d have a much better shot at just maintaining a friendship. If her body would only cooperate. And if she could get past those blasted memories of them in bed the night of Jill’s murder.

“We should get some rest,” she managed to say.

He studied her as if he might challenge that, but he finally nodded and reached for the laptop. Before he could pick it up, however, she heard the buzzing sound. Not from the laptop, but from the burner cell he’d shoved into his pocket. There was only one person who’d be calling on that phone.

Quentin.

“Are you up for this?” Clayton asked.

She nodded, and he handed her the phone. Lenora pressed the answer button, put the call on speaker and waited for Quentin to say something.

“Lynnie?” the man asked.

It was Quentin all right, and it was her real name. Lynnie Martin. But she’d stopped using it not long after she began working for the task force. Somehow, though, Quentin had learned about her Lenora Whitaker alias, because he’d found her house. The photo in his file had proven that.

“How are you? Where are you?” Quentin asked.

“I’ve been better.” And she didn’t intend to answer the second part of his question. “Someone’s trying to kill me, and I wondered if it was you.”

“God, no.” There was no hesitation, and he sounded surprised. Sounded. “What happened?”

“Someone shot at me,” she settled for saying. After all, this was a fishing expedition, and she didn’t want to give him too many details. Just enough to possibly hang himself.

Quentin cursed. “Are you all right?”

“No. And I want to know why you were at my house in Eagle Pass.”

“I wasn’t...” But then he stopped. “Okay, I was. I was checking on you, or rather trying to do that. I’d read about Jill’s shooting, and I was worried. How did you know I was there?”

“A friend told me,” she lied. “How’d you find me?”

“Through an old contact.”

And with that vague answer, the conversation ground to a halt. She looked at Clayton to see if he was buying Quentin’s innocent act, but he obviously wasn’t. He was glaring at the phone as if he wanted to jump through it and beat Quentin senseless. If he was guilty, Lenora wanted to do the same thing.

“My old contact also told me you were pregnant,” Quentin finally continued. “Who’s the father?”

She sucked in her breath. Mercy. Lenora hadn’t wanted Quentin to know about the baby. Especially since he could be insanely jealous. Or at least he had been when they were together. At the time she’d thought that only showed how much he loved her, but in hindsight, it only showed that he could be possessive and abusive.

Hardly love.

“The father is someone I’d rather not discuss,” Lenora answered.

“It’s that marshal from Maverick Springs, isn’t it?”

A chill went over her, because it wasn’t just what Quentin said, but how he said it. He sounded past being just jealous, and she knew from experience that jealous men often did dangerous things. And Quentin was a criminal. Heaven only knew just how far he would go.

“I’ve been trying to find out how you’ve been,” Quentin continued. “And other things. Like your location, for instance. I want to see you.”

“Why?” Clayton mouthed, and Lenora repeated it aloud to Quentin.

“Why?” Quentin mimicked. “Because I’m in love with you, that’s why. Because we were torn apart because someone ratted on me and forced me to work with the justice department.”

Even though he hadn’t said she was the one to rat him out, he probably knew it. He seemed to know everything else about her. But thankfully, not her whereabouts.

“It’s too dangerous for me to see you,” she explained. “Someone wants me dead, and until I find out who that is, I’m staying in hiding.”

“Agent James Britt,” Quentin tossed out there. “I’m betting you can trace the danger right back to him. He’s a dirty agent, Lynnie.”

“You have proof of that?” She wasn’t disagreeing with him, and she definitely didn’t like James’s association with the man who’d shot Clayton.

“Not yet, but that’s why we have to meet,” Quentin insisted. “We have to figure out a way to bring him down. When and where can you meet me?”

Clayton shook his head again, probably to make sure she didn’t agree to anything Quentin wanted. “I’ll have to get back to you on that,” she said.

Quentin cursed again. “I can tell a put-off when I hear it, and you’re making a big mistake.”

That sounded like a threat, and Clayton’s glare heated up.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Quentin went on. “You’ve got a dirty agent on your trail, and you’re trusting a man you shouldn’t trust.”

Lenora definitely didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“Marshal Clayton Caldwell,” Quentin spat out like profanity.

She looked at Clayton to see if he knew what this was all about, but he only shook his head. “What about him?” Lenora asked.

“He’s trouble. The worst kind of trouble that can get you killed the hard way.” Quentin punctuated that with more profanity. “Lynnie, you weren’t the target of the shooting at the diner in Maverick Springs. Clayton Caldwell was.”

And with that, Quentin hung up.