One Night Standoff (10 page)

“You got any proof or even an explanation to go with that?” Clayton demanded.

“I’ve got
information.
” And Quentin’s expression changed again. Not for the good, either. It seemed as if he was gloating or something. “You want the proof, find it yourself, Marshal.”

“I’ll do that,” Clayton assured him, “but first I’ll need this so-called information.”

“It’s not so-called. It’s real. Riggs has teamed up again with someone he used to work with a couple of years back. This guy doesn’t have the cash or the brains to orchestrate an attack like the one at the diner, but I figure Riggs provided both in ample amounts.”

Yes, Riggs could indeed do that. With his money and resources, all he had to do was find someone he could pay enough to do his bidding. Or someone he could manipulate. Of course, that person could be the man standing directly in front of them—Quentin.

“Riggs hired a former business associate?” Lenora asked. And yes, she was very skeptical of this info. “If it’s true, why doesn’t the justice department know about this?”

But she had to concede that maybe they did. James could have withheld it from her, especially if he was a dirty agent working for Riggs. He could also be withholding those files that Quentin had just mentioned.
If
they existed.

Was James that former business associate?

Or was this another lie that Quentin was trying to use to muddy the waters?

That gloating look in Quentin’s eyes went up a notch. “Because the justice department has criminal informants, but I have informants who are still criminals. On active duty, you could say. And no, I’m not naming names. These are people who’ll kill you for betraying them.”

She didn’t doubt that part, but there was still a key piece of information missing here.

“You got a name for Riggs’s business partner?” Clayton pressed.

No glare this time. Just more of that gloating, self-satisfied look. “Lynnie’s met him a time or two because back in the day I used to hire him when I needed some muscle.”

Lenora had to shake her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Not just the
muscle,
either. I didn’t know you’d ever hired any muscle. And as for anyone specific, I met dozens of people when I worked for you. Even more afterward, when I was working for James to bring you down.”

Quentin didn’t seem to have a reaction to that last jabbing reminder. “But you remember this guy. He came in a couple of times while you were still working for me. Or rather, pretending to work for me. A guy in his fifties, always wore a white cowboy hat with one side kicked up. He went out to dinner with us once.”

That was enough to jog her memory. Lenora did indeed remember a man like that, but she hadn’t known he was hired muscle. However, that wasn’t what bothered her now. It was that gleam in Quentin’s eyes.

Something about this wasn’t right on many levels.

She forced herself to think, to try to recall any details she could about the man. Lenora picked through the conversations she’d heard between Quentin and the man in the white hat.

And her heart nearly skipped a beat.

“Oh, God,” she said, and her gaze flew to Clayton. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”

Clayton looked at her as if she’d slugged him. “Didn’t know what?”

Lenora had to explain. She had to make him understand. “I only met him a time or two, and I didn’t make the association until just now.”

Quentin smiled. “What Lynnie is stumbling around trying to tell you is that the man she and I worked with was none other than Melvin Larson. Your dear ol’ dad.”

Chapter Eleven

The anger slammed like a fist into Clayton’s chest, and after seeing the look on Lenora’s face, he knew that Quentin wasn’t lying. Not about this, anyway.

“Get him out of here,” Clayton told Cutter and the other ranch hand, Ray. “And make sure he’s off the ranch and doesn’t come back.”

Clayton caught one last glimpse of Quentin’s smile. A smile he wanted to dissolve to dust, but he forced himself to remember that Quentin was just the messenger. Yeah, he could still be guilty all the way up to his eyeballs, but he wasn’t lying now.

He waited until Cutter and Ray had the man out of his sight, and Clayton yanked out his phone so he could call Harlan at the marshals’ office.

“I don’t want to answer a lot of questions about what I’m about to ask you to do,” Clayton said the moment his brother answered. “But I need you to find my birth father right away and bring him in for questioning.”

“All right,” Harlan said without hesitation. “And if he resists?”

“I hope to hell he does,” Clayton mumbled, and he ended the call.

“Let’s go,” Clayton said to Lenora. But he didn’t just say it. He snapped it and got them moving.

“I’m sorry,” Lenora repeated.

Clayton wanted to assure her that he didn’t blame her for what’d just happened, but his throat clamped shut, and he couldn’t speak. It didn’t help that the sun broke through the clouds at that exact moment and the pain stabbed through his head.

“Come on,” Lenora insisted, and she reversed the grip and took hold of him. “Let’s get inside.”

He did. They hurried across the narrow strip of yard and driveway and back into the house. Thankfully no one was in the kitchen or other rooms that they went through, because Clayton didn’t want to explain what he was still having trouble dealing with.

Melvin might have been behind these attacks.

The SOB could have killed not just him, but Lenora and the baby.

With Lenora right behind him, he stormed up the stairs to the ranch office where he’d had the earlier computer interview with Riggs. At the time, Clayton had thought that was enough hard news to swallow, but here he’d been given another jolt.

“I honestly didn’t remember your father until Quentin said those things,” Lenora told him. Her voice was frantic now, and she moved in front of him to force eye contact.

Every nerve in his body felt raw, and the emotion was at a rolling boil inside him. It didn’t help that Lenora looked as if she was ready for him to toss her out the door. Clayton was ready to do something, but he wasn’t sure what.

Before he could think—which should have been a big red flag that anything he was about to do would likely be a mistake—he moved toward her. And he made that mistake anyway. He latched on to Lenora, dragged her against him and kissed her.

With the rage burning him, he forced himself to stay gentle. Not just with his mouth, but with his embrace. He tried to hold her as if she were fine glass that might shatter under too much pressure. Still, despite his holding back and the battering of emotions, he felt something else.

The sheer pleasure of her taste.

It soothed him. The sweet coil of heat that rippled through his body. The way she felt in his arms. Her scent. And that little purr that she made deep within her throat. All of it helped.

Then hurt.

Because the need twisted, and while he could feel the anger softening and melting away, the rest of him was far from soft. Obviously a certain part of him thought he was about to get lucky, but that couldn’t happen.

At least he was pretty sure it couldn’t.

Clayton turned, and without breaking the hold they had on each other, he shut the door and pressed Lenora against the back of it. If he was going to be stupid, he didn’t want someone walking in on them.

The kiss got hotter and deeper, and they couldn’t seem to get close enough to each other. Was this how it’d been the night they had sex? This overwhelming urge to do whatever it took to ease the pressure building inside them?

And this was a
them
situation. Because Lenora darn sure wasn’t a passive participant.

She worked her hands down his back, pulling him closer and closer. The new angle gave him perfect access to her neck, so Clayton lowered his head and dropped some kisses there.

Lenora made another of those sounds.

That revved his body into full gear, and he caught onto the back of her leg, adjusting the angle again so that her sex was against his.

Clayton nearly dragged her to the floor.

Man, he couldn’t take her like this. Okay, he could. But it might not be safe. He’d never had sex with a pregnant woman, and while that only seemed to add to this furnace of heat he was battling, he didn’t want to take any risks and hurt her.

Using every bit of willpower that he could muster, he caught on to her shoulders and moved her back just a little. Just enough so that the intimate contact was gone.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say. “I shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you.”

“Give me a second to catch my breath and cool off.” She looked up at him, blinked. “That was a bad-mood reaction? Remind me to get you in a bad mood more often.” She gave a nervous laugh and waved him off. “Forget I said that.”

He’d have an easier time forgetting that he had an erection.

Part of him was pleased that she could make light of this. The other part of him wasn’t. He needed a big reason to stay away from her, and just telling himself that she was off-limits wasn’t doing the job.

With her chest still pumping for air, she reached out and ran her hand down his arm. It wasn’t foreplay. Probably meant to comfort him. And much to Clayton’s surprise, it did.

“I don’t blame you for not remembering my birth father,” he said right off the bat. “I don’t think for one minute you intentionally withheld that info.”

And maybe that made him stupid. Because while Lenora and he were in danger together, that didn’t mean they were together.

“For what it’s worth, I didn’t deal directly with Melvin.” She paused. “I take it he’s a crook or he wouldn’t have had an association with Quentin.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s a crook, all right. Never committed a federal offense—not one that I could find, anyway. If I had, I would have gone after him.”

Another pause. Another touch on his arm. “Would Melvin really want you dead?” she asked.

“If the price was right, he would. And I figure Riggs would pay a great deal of money to get us out of the picture.”

Lenora made a sound of agreement and slid her hand over her stomach. “And he wouldn’t give a second thought to the baby.” She huffed. Groaned. Moved away from him. “I thought if I left that it would be safer for you. I made plans to leave,” she added, snagging his gaze.

“You what?”

She didn’t exactly look pleased about having to tell him this. Good. Because Clayton wasn’t pleased to hear it.

“I made some calls last night on the burner cell so they couldn’t be traced,” she explained. “I managed to make arrangements for a place in Dallas. I figured leaving was the best way to keep you alive.”

There it was. Yet something else she’d withheld from him. “Did you plan on telling me, or would you have just left the way you did the day I was shot?”

Her silence let him know the answer to that. “I trust you, but I thought I’d be doing you a favor.”

He tried not to be angry with her. He succeeded at that, but not at nullifying the frustration.

Clayton walked to her and looked her directly in the eyes. “You can’t leave. I know it’s not fair because you’re the one who has to go through this pregnancy, but that’s my baby, and I want to be part of his or her life. That includes keeping the baby, and you, safe.”

She certainly didn’t jump to agree with him. “But at what cost? You could be killed.”

“Any cost,” he let her know. And it wasn’t lip service. He hadn’t planned on fatherhood, but Clayton realized the baby was one of the most important things in his life.

Family.

“After we find who’s trying to kill us, we’ll sit down and work out, well, whatever we need to work out.”

She stared at him, probably ready to ask if that whatever included sex. Yeah, it likely would. Despite not needing the distraction, Clayton couldn’t see a way around it. Their bodies just lit up like firecrackers when they were around each other, and since he didn’t intend to let her out of his sight for long, that meant a lot of heat.

His phone buzzed, and he saw Harlan’s name on the screen. “Well?” Clayton greeted his brother, and he hoped it was good news for a change.

“I made some calls and found the SOB. Melvin’s at his new place of business in San Antonio. He’s selling souvenir imports from Mexico.”

Yeah, finding him was good news, all right. Maybe it would get even better. “Please tell me Melvin’s business is a front for drugs or something else illegal?”

“SAPD will check it out,” Harlan verified. “Are you up for an interrogation?”

“With Melvin?” Clayton clarified.

“Yep. I have a friend over there at SAPD, Lt. Nate Ryland, and he’s offered to bring the father of the year here to Maverick Springs.”

Clayton’s stomach tightened. He wanted to see Melvin, but he dreaded it, too. “How soon?”

“Soon,” Harlan said. “Lt. Ryland is picking him up now. They’ll be here in about two hours.”

Not long of a wait, and not much time to plan what to do with Lenora. Despite his earlier thought of not letting her out of his sight for long, he might have to do just that to keep her safe.

With help from one of his brothers, that was.

Clayton ended the call and turned to her. “I want you to stay here while I go into town.”

The head shaking started almost immediately. “I want to see Melvin and hear what he has to say.”

“Too risky. Best if you stay here. I’ll call Dallas and have him come out and stay with Stella, Kirby and you while I talk to Melvin. I won’t be long, promise.”

He saw the moment that Lenora surrendered to that idea, but she also wasn’t pleased. Still, he preferred her riled to being in danger. Or in the same room with Melvin. Which might be the same thing.

His phone buzzed again, and for a moment Clayton thought it was Harlan calling with something he’d forgotten to say. But it was Cutter again.

“Please tell me Quentin didn’t give you any trouble leaving the ranch,” Clayton said when he answered.

“No, he left, all right. But we got another kind of trouble.”

Before Clayton could groan or ask what that trouble was, he heard something he didn’t want to hear.

A gunshot.

* * *

T
HE
SOUND
OF
THE
SHOT
stopped Lenora cold. She’d been on the verge of asking Clayton who or what had put that troubled look back on his face, but that shot was the answer to her question.

God
.

What had gone wrong now?

Clayton pulled her to the floor even though she’d already started in that direction anyway, and he drew his gun from his holster. She’d left her weapon in the guest room, and Lenora cursed her decision to do that. The ranch had felt safe.

Judging from that shot, that was a false sense of security. Now she had no immediate way to defend herself.

If that was indeed what she would have to do.

Lenora held out hope that one of the ranch hands had fired at a snake or something.

“Where?” Clayton demanded. Lenora knew it was Cutter on the other end of the line, but she couldn’t make out what the man was saying.

Another shot cracked through the air, and Clayton jabbed the end-call button and scrambled to the window so he could look out the corner of the blinds.

“Stay down,” he told her.

That and his suddenly vigilant stance let her know this wasn’t someone shooting at snakes.
No.
It could be Quentin or those two gunmen who’d tried to kill them at the church. Either way, they were under fire.

“Stella?” Clayton called out.

“Was that a gunshot?” the woman immediately asked.

“Yes.” And Lenora could tell that it hurt for him to say that. “Get Kirby on the floor and away from the windows.”

Hopefully Stella would do as he said, but even with the nurse’s help, it wouldn’t be easy for the two women to get a sick, weak man to a safe place.

The third shot blasted into something. The barn, maybe. Judging from the sound, their attacker was using a high-powered rifle, which meant he wouldn’t have to be too close to deliver those shots.

“Who’s doing this?” she asked.

“Not sure.” Clayton moved to the other side of the window and winced when he looked out. No doubt because of the light in his eyes.

Lenora wanted to suggest they trade places. She was a good shot and the light wasn’t a factor for her, but there was no way Clayton was going to let her do that.

When his phone buzzed again, Clayton slid it across the floor toward her. “Answer it and put it on speaker.”

Lenora did, and she extended her hand so the cell would be closer to him. “What’s going on out there?” Clayton immediately asked. “Can you see the shooter?”

“Not anymore,” Cutter explained. “I got just that one glimpse of him by the back pasture fence, and he disappeared into the trees.”

And was probably in one of them by now. On their short walk to the barn to talk to Quentin, Lenora had noticed plenty of towering oaks just on the other side of that fence, and in parts it was thick woods. About a quarter of a mile from the house.

Easy range for someone armed with a scope rifle.

“I called the others,” Cutter added. “They’re on the way.”

Yes, but they were coming from town, which meant they were at least twenty minutes out. Plus, they couldn’t just come driving onto the property and risk being shot. They’d have to work out some kind of plan for a safe, indirect approach, and that would take precious time.

There was another shot, but this time Lenora didn’t have to guess what it hit. Not the barn. This one had gone into the back of the house.

“Kirby’s room is back there.” Clayton’s breath was gusting now, and he must have realized he wouldn’t get a look at the gunman from this particular window, because he scurried away from it and to the door.