Wyoming Brave (Wyoming Men #6)

He put his finger over her soft mouth to silence her. “Isabel,” he said gently, “if she hadn’t come home, the killer would have found a way to get on the ranch. Maybe he found a way in that Ren didn’t know about, maybe he had a position marked out that gave him access to Merrie’s window with a high-powered rifle. This idiot bungled the job. He ran a truck into the limo and didn’t kill her. If it was another guy, if the killer is still in Wyoming with his rifle, he might not be aware of the attempt here.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean, there might be two killers?” she asked, ice flowing through her veins at just the thought.

“He was watching both places. He might not have known for sure that Merrie had left Skyhorn, but it would be stupid not to watch for her in Jacobsville and Comanche Wells, too.”

“What sort of hit man uses a pickup truck as a murder weapon?” she asked.

“Somebody who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, most likely,” Paul said. “Mikey picked up a rumor that the contract killer has a distant relative on the wrong side of the law in Houston. That’s not too far from here.”

Sari wrapped her arms around her chest. “This just keeps getting better and better. Do you think one guard on the door will be enough?” she added. Her face tautened. “And this time, we’d better double-check the background of anybody we get to do security for Merrie.”

“I’m two steps ahead of you,” he assured her. “I think...”

He broke off as Mikey came down the hall toward them. He was bareheaded, his thick, wavy black hair glistening, as if he’d been out in the misting rain. He was wearing a suit that probably cost more than one of the two Grayling limousines, a blue pin-striped one with a spotless white shirt and a maroon patterned tie that set off his olive complexion.

As he neared them, they saw a glimmer of amusement in his black eyes that were so much like Paul’s.

“Got some good news for a change?” Paul asked as Mikey stopped in front of them.

“Maybe,” he said. “How’s baby doll?” he asked.

“She came through surgery okay,” Sari told him. “She’s still in pretty bad shape.”

Mikey’s face hardened. “The guy who did that won’t get far,” he told her quietly, glancing around to make sure they weren’t overheard. “I called in a marker.”

“Hey, now,” Paul began.

Mikey held up a hand. “You don’t know a damned thing,” he told his cousin. “Period.”

“I work for the FBI, Mikey,” Paul persisted.

“Baby doll in there—” Mikey’s head jerked toward the general direction of the recovery room “—is one in a million. And nobody, I mean nobody, hurts her and gets away with it.”

“You’re a nice man, Cousin Mikey,” Sari said softly.

He averted his eyes, looking sheepish. “If I’d met somebody like her years ago, maybe I’d have turned out different.”

Paul and Sari exchanged speculative glances.

“Yeah, yeah, years ago, she’d have been in diapers, I know,” Mikey muttered. “Just saying. Anyway, the hot rod hitter has a record in Houston for attempted murder. He killed a guy two years ago in what was claimed to be a horrible accident after he ran a truck through his minivan at an intersection.”

“Damn!” Paul groaned.

“He got off because the two witnesses suddenly had memory loss and couldn’t describe what they saw,” Mikey continued. “One of them was driving a brand-new Mercedes shortly thereafter.”

“So he walked,” Paul muttered.

“He walked.”

“I want him alive,” he told Mikey firmly. “He might have some idea where the shooter is and what he’s planning.”

“Not likely.” Mikey dropped into a chair next to Paul and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I know the shooter, Paulie,” he said softly. “I know how he operates, how he sets up a hit. I’ve been doing some reconnoitering around your house,” he added. “Barton and Rogers went with me. We planted devices in every space he might occupy. He’d have to be a ghost to get through.”

“That’s at home, Mikey,” Paul said heavily. “But Merrie’s going to be here for several days. You can’t lock down a whole hospital for one patient.”

“Think so?” Mikey asked with a grin.

“Okay. What are you up to?” Paul asked, because he knew that grin.

“Oh, I got a few people who are going to be working here temporarily. In fact,” he added, nodding toward a man carrying a mop and pail, “there’s one of them now.”

Paul’s eyebrows arched as he noted the way the man was looking around him, as if he were an escaped fugitive.

“Mikey, none of these guys would have their likenesses posted on the FBI website, would they?” Paul asked.

“Well, not in this country, at least,” came the amused reply. “Just relax. I’m not even breaking the law. These are honest citizens. The hospital administrator likes them a lot.”

“Why does he like them?” Paul asked.

“I just happened to mention how much I support labor unions, and I noticed that this little hospital doesn’t seem to have one...”

“God, Mikey!” Paul exclaimed.

“It’s all in a good cause,” Mikey said. “Keeping baby doll safe. And you know, Paulie, you can get more with a gun and a smile than you can with just a smile.” He grinned.

Sari was trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

“See?” Paul said, pointing at Mikey. “That’s me, if I’d made different choices in my life.”

“He’s not so bad,” Sari defended Mikey. She smiled at him. “Thanks for everything.”

Mikey smiled back.

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