by B. J Daniels
Gene was reaching for the baby again when Lars rushed up to the booth. “I can quiet her,” he said and stepped between Gene and Tina to hold out his arms for Chloe.
Shirley watched with her heart in her throat. Had she just sent Lars to his death? “Give him the baby, Tina,” she said under her breath like a prayer. The woman was going to get them all killed if she didn’t hand over the screeching child.
“Tina,” she heard Lars say, desperation in his voice as the baby continued to scream. “Give her to me.”
From across the room, Shirley held her breath. She hadn’t seen Lars and Tina together for months. She couldn’t help being curious about their relationship. Had Tina thought he’d marry her once the baby was born? Why stop Lars from getting a paternity test? Because she knew Chloe wasn’t his?
After a few heart-thundering moments, Tina finally handed over the crying baby. The moment the infant was in Lars’s arms, she choked back her sobs and began to still. Shirley couldn’t believe it, even though she’d heard it was true. The baby quit crying. Lars really did have the magic touch.
Tina leaned back in the booth and began to cry, her body racked with sobs of obvious relief. As they began to subside, Shirley heard Tina say through gritted teeth, “Don’t say anything, Mother. Not a word.”
Vi harrumphed but didn’t speak for once.
For a moment, Shirley thought the danger was over, until she realized that Gene was still standing there with his gun pointed at Lars’s back. In the tense silence that followed, the only sound was Tina’s sniffles.
Gene seemed to be making up his mind about shooting Lars. Finally, he growled, “Sit down.”
Lars, the baby in his arms, turned to look at the man. What surprised her was the challenge in Lars’s expression. She saw something that she’d already feared. Lars would die for that baby.
For a moment, the café went deathly quiet as the two men stared each other down. Then Lars slowly sat down in the booth next to Tina. Gene still seemed to consider shooting him but finally lowered the gun with a curse.
As he turned away, Shirley tried to catch her breath. Across the room, Lars was looking down at the now-quiet baby and smiling. Shirley had to look away.
* * *
CULHANE FELT HIS pulse drop a notch. He knew this moment of peace wouldn’t last, couldn’t last. He saw Gene run a hand over his face. He looked exhausted and possibly coming off something.
“I heard you have a retired doctor in town?” Gene asked the café crowd in general.
“He died this spring,” someone said, making Gene swear. He no longer looked calm. His nerves were fraying. He looked like a man who could go off at any moment and empty the clip in that gun into anyone who breathed.
“I have some first-aid experience,” said a man with salt and pepper short hair from one of the booths. He was an older, late-fifties or early-sixties gentleman, with an ex-military look. The woman of about the same age who’d been sitting with him grabbed his arm and tried to stop him as he rose to his feet.
“Earl Ray, no,” she said, but he gently peeled her fingers off his forearm.
“It’s okay,” he assured her before turning to Gene. “I’d be happy to help, if I can. I’ve had some experience with gunshot wounds.” As he started to move toward the kitchen, Gene stopped him.
“Not Leo,” he said of the cook. “He’s dead. In the van outside.”
Earl Ray glanced toward the front of the café to the older-model gray van parked outside, his expression resolved. He seemed to know how badly this could end with all these people trapped there with these men. He started toward the front door.
Over his shoulder, he said, “Bessie, it smells like your cinnamon rolls should be coming out of the oven about now. Best see to them. I’ll want one when I come back in.” He sounded so composed that the tension in the room dropped slightly. Clearly, the locals seemed relieved that Earl Ray was taking charge.
The waitress, a girl of no more than fifteen, had dissolved into sobs in the corner of the booth Earl Ray had left. “Turn off the waterworks, Cheri. Now,” the woman Earl Ray had called Bessie said, rising. “Stop now.”
The girl choked back a couple of sobs, her eyes wide with fear.
“Sit here and stay. I mean it. We don’t need your histrionics right now.” She straightened to her full height and looked around at the customers. “Everyone just sit tight. We can get through this.”
Culhane hoped she was right about that as he left the grill to walk back out into the dining area. “What would you like to eat?” he asked Bobby and Eric, who were leaning against the end of an empty booth, their weapons still in their hands.
When the men had come in, he’d seen trouble in every line of their bodies. He’d noticed at once that they were armed, but he hadn’t really looked at their faces. Now he studied Bobby. Where had he seen him before? The memory teased at the back of his brain. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was important. He’d seen Bobby somewhere recently.
“What can you make?” Eric asked, sizing him up and finding him unthreatening, apparently.
“Whatever you want,” Culhane said.
Eric turned to look back at Bobby. “What sounds good to you?”
Bobby stretched out his long legs, the gun resting on his thigh as he watched the others in the café to make sure no one made a sudden move. “Pancakes, egg, bacon, hash browns.”
Eric shook his head as his gaze came back to Culhane. “Make enough for three.”
“The guy outside said you wanted it to go?” he asked.
Eric’s gaze narrowed in warning. “You just tend to the cooking. We’ll go when we’re ready. Get too cocky and you’ll end up like that poor slob on the kitchen floor.”
Eric turned back to Bobby and the others. Culhane’s gaze went to Alexis as he tried to reassure her as he headed into the kitchen again. But she was no fool. He saw the worry and fear in her eyes. He knew she was thinking the same thing he was. They couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.
He gave a small shake of his head as he met her gaze. He could see no easy way to defuse this situation without getting people killed. The three men weren’t leaving until they got what they’d come for. All the rest of them could do was wait.
Shooting her what he hoped was a reassuring grin, he told himself that he’d do what he could to protect her. He knew this woman. Alexis would be right in the middle of anything that went down. No shrinking violet this one, he thought as he leaned through the pass-through and said to her, “Your pancakes and bacon are coming right up, too.”
“What are you doing?” she whispered as if feeling the heat of his gaze on skin. It had always been like this between them. A connection that was both sexual and cerebral. Half the time he feared that she could tell what he was thinking. Often he sensed what she wanted, what she needed, especially in bed—or on the job when they were deputies.
“Just admiring the view,” he whispered and grinned.
She shook her head, her smile brief. “Save it, Culhane,” she whispered back, but he saw color rise to her cheeks and something spark in those golden-brown eyes. She hadn’t forgotten how good they were together. Maybe in time she could forgive him for not telling her everything about his past. If they lived that long.
But right now he had a murder charge hanging over him and was trapped in a small-town café with three killers and a room full of locals. Including a baby that could start crying again at any moment.
The atmosphere in the room was tense. They knew there was a bomb ticking in there and that it wouldn’t take much for it to go off and kill them all.
CHAPTER FIVE
BESSIE HURRIED INTO the kitchen, stopping at the sight of Leo lying in his own blood, dead on the floor—and the cowboy who’d been sitting at the counter. She didn’t have to check the cinnamon rolls to know that they weren’t quite ready. Earl
Ray had only wanted to keep her busy so she didn’t worry. Ha, she thought as she got flatware, napkins, cups and a pot of coffee for the men who’d come in. Truth was that if she didn’t keep busy, she’d lose her mind. She’d waitressed her share over the years, and Cheri was in no shape to help. Better for the girl to stay huddled in a corner making herself invisible.
Bessie tried not to think about all the people held in there or Earl Ray being out in that van with a dangerous, armed man. She rued the ultimatum she’d given him this morning. They were probably all going to die today, anyway. She couldn’t miss the irony of it. Earlier her only problem had been being in love with a man who was still in love with his long-deceased wife. Hard to compete with the perfect late wife.
She put everything down on the table next to the man called Bobby, making a point not to look at the other one, Eric. There was something about him that turned her blood to ice water. Of the three, it was hard to tell who was the most dangerous. Definitely the man who had Earl Ray outside. But Eric was one worth watching.
Back to the kitchen, she also avoided looking into the expectant faces of those sitting at the tables. They were people she’d known her whole life. She knew that they were all looking at her as if she was going to save them. With what? A spatula?
All she could do was give them all cinnamon rolls when they came out of the oven. They’d all probably lost their appetites—if not still full from breakfast. But it would give them something to do while they all waited to see what was going to happen. The tension in the room was palpable. She knew it would take only one tiny spark for the whole place to go up.
Earl Ray was really the one everyone was depending on, just as they always had, as she always had. Her heart ached at the thought of him out there with a killer. She hoped he could do something for the man who’d been shot. But as knowledgeable as Earl Ray was, he wasn’t a miracle worker. What would happen if the man died?
She feared she already knew that answer. It gutted her to think that she might lose Earl Ray. Not that she’d ever had him, really. But since his wife Tory died, she and Earl Ray had become almost inseparable. Except for those lonely nights.
Just the thought of losing him... It was one thing to move to Arizona knowing he was alive and well in Montana. It was another to know she’d never see that smile of his again. Tears blurred her vision as she walked back into the kitchen and pulled down an oven mitt to check the cinnamon rolls.
That’s when she saw the gun.
Her gaze shifted to the cowboy working at the grill. “Don’t get these people killed,” Bessie whispered, not looking at him.
* * *
FROM THE CORNER of his eye, Culhane could see the set of Bessie’s jaw. He thought about telling her that he was a former deputy. He didn’t want her thinking he was one of these fools out there with guns, but then again, he now found himself a wanted man on the wrong side of the law.
Otherwise he wouldn’t be wanted for murder with bounty hunter Alexis Brand after him and now trapped with him in this café. That part hurt the most. He hadn’t wanted her involved in his mess, and yet here she was, both of them risking their lives because of his bad decision seven years ago.
“I’ll do my best,” he said quietly to Bessie.
“I need to get my cinnamon rolls out of the oven,” she said as the timer went off. Her voice broke, and she cringed at the sight of the cook lying dead on the floor. She bit her lower lip as if to hold back tears and lifted her chin. The woman was a trooper, he could see that. He wondered about the older man who’d gone outside with Gene, wondered about their relationship, and hoped Earl Ray knew what he was doing.
Culhane lowered his voice. “Take your time. You’re better off in here than out there.”
She studied him for a moment before glancing out the pass-through. He knew she was looking at the gray van parked out front. He’d already seen that the side door was open and only Gene was visible, standing outside no doubt supervising.
“Those customers out there,” she said quietly. “I’ve known them all my life. They’re like family. A dysfunctional family, I’ll admit, but they’re mine.”
He met her gaze and nodded. “I understand.”
She glanced from him to Alexis. “Maybe you do.” She sighed. “If you need more of anything, there’s the walk-in out back.”
“Thanks,” he said, seeing how nervous and upset she was but trying hard to keep it in because of the others. He watched her as she put on the oven mitt, opened the oven door and took out a large tray. The kitchen filled with the smell of hot, fresh cinnamon rolls with that underlying hint of blood and gunpowder.
He saw her start to put the mitt back on the shelf to hide the gun—and hesitate. He shook his head slowly. She held his gaze for a long moment before she dropped the mitt back over the gun and reached for a knife to cut the cinnamon rolls.
Culhane went to work cooking. When he was sixteen, he’d left home and ended up working as a wrangler packing hunters into the mountains. He got the job because he’d told the man he could cook. Turned out he was terrible at it, but after getting insults and even more painful objects thrown at him, he’d gotten the hang of it. If he could cook over a campfire, he should be able to cook on a grill.
On the radio, a Christmas song finished, and the news come on. The top story was about a bank robbery by three masked men in Idaho that had ended with the deaths of two bystanders and a guard. One of the robbers had been wounded. He quickly reached up and turned off the radio as the announcer began to give descriptions of the men.
* * *
ALEXIS SAW THE man Gene had called Eric move to the end of the counter and look in her direction. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck rise as goose bumps raced across her skin. She willed herself to ignore him as she picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. Her hand was steady, just like her resolve. She’d faced down men like this one before.
But this time, the stakes were much higher with a building full of innocent people—and Culhane. Not that she could consider him innocent even on a good day. But he had a target on his back already. She didn’t want these men—whoever they were—to keep her from taking him back to jail.
She still believed in justice, even though she and Culhane had gotten little when the new sheriff had used them both as scapegoats, leading to their terminations. She’d taken it better than he had. Not that she didn’t want to see Sheriff Willy Garwood get what he had coming to him.
“At least you’ve never been one to hold a grudge,” she’d joked sarcastically at the time. Not only was he in the middle of a wrongful discharge lawsuit with the sheriff’s department, he wanted to see Willy fired and put behind bars.
Culhane had laughed and leaned back, looking as if he hadn’t had a care in the world. “Willy will get what’s coming to him one way or another.”
She’d looked over at him from where she lay naked in his bed. She’d thought they were on the same side. “You aren’t talking about taking justice into your own hands, are you?”
“There is no justice—at least not the kind you’re talking about. You should know that by now, Alex.”
She’d been upset with him and his attitude. Admittedly, it was one reason she’d become a bounty hunter. She did believe in justice, and damned if she wouldn’t get it. She’d just never imagined that she’d be hunting Culhane—especially for murder. Not to even mention that he had a wife. How was that possible?
As the scent of cinnamon rolls wafted throughout, Eric said, “I want one of those. How about you, pretty lady? You want one?”
Alexis knew he was talking to her but pretended otherwise. She heard the man take a step toward her. She could smell the sweat on him and something else: desperation. It set her pulse pounding. In a couple more feet, he would grab her roughly, and she would pull her gun. Once he did, she’d have to shoot Eric and the other one leaning against his booth befo
re he could shoot her.
She was wondering how long it would take the man outside to come running in and if she could depend on Culhane to stop him.
The bell over the door dinged, and she felt a gust of fall Montana air rush in.
“Bessie Walker makes the best cinnamon rolls in the county—heck, the entire state,” the man she’d heard called Earl Ray said as he came in. He looked right at her as if seeing what Eric was up to.
Eric turned away from her as his boss followed Earl Ray inside. But Alexis had felt Eric’s eyes on her, felt the meanness and the need pouring out of his pores. He’d be back.
* * *
THE SMELL OF Bessie’s cinnamon rolls turned Earl Ray’s stomach as he pushed open the café’s front door. Gene prodded him from behind with the barrel end of his gun, a reminder of how on edge the man was becoming.
He took a whiff of the cinnamon and yeast and wondered if he would ever love that amazing scent again or if it would always remind him of this day—a day he feared a lot of innocent people were about to die. He had been anxious before in his life, but nothing like he was right now.
He’d learned over the years that bad luck came in threes. When Bessie told him this morning that she was leaving, he’d felt the bottom fall out of his world. Leave Buckhorn forever? She couldn’t have meant it, and yet, he knew she had. Just as he knew why. He had only himself to blame. She was leaving because of him, because he couldn’t love her the way she needed and deserved, because he still felt married to his first and only wife, Tory, dead or not.
Then these men had walked into the café. Now he worried what the third bad thing would be and felt sick at the thought as he headed for the men’s restroom to wash the blood off his hands, Gene close behind him. All of their lives were in terrible danger. They’d be lucky to live through this, and yet, he couldn’t help the pain in his chest at the thought of Bessie. She was his sunshine, his oxygen, his reason for getting out of bed in the morning. He couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing her smiling face each morning. He knew that if they survived this, he would shrivel up and die without her in Buckhorn.