“How?” she wanted to know. Her heart was starting to race now, and the coffee wasn’t going down easily. Her stomach was churning.
He paused a moment. “When I interviewed you for the job, the security cameras were on. I copied an image from it and sent it to the P.I. agency along with the background request.”
Oh, mercy. “You always do that?”
“Always.” And he didn’t sound exactly apologetic either. “I don’t like to take risks with the ranch, and you’d be surprised how many lowlifes apply for jobs.”
No, she wouldn’t. She didn’t consider Boone and herself lowlifes, but they’d often given false names and information when asking for work.
Not for this job, though.
Because she’d figured Mason would do some checking, she had given her legal name, Abbie Baker, so she could use her own social security number and provide Mason with some references. Of course, she’d only given him references that weren’t likely to get back to Boone. One of them had been Marshal McKinney’s own stepfather, and the other, the marshal’s brother. Abbie had listed them on the job application because she’d known they wouldn’t leak anything to Ferguson, and besides, she’d done good work for both.
“What did the P.I. do with my picture?” she wanted to know.
“That’s what I’m checking, but as a minimum he or she would have run it past law enforcement so they could check for any priors under a different name.”
Great. Ferguson no doubt still had contacts with the cops. In fact, as badly as he wanted to find her, he’d probably paid off someone to look for any information that would lead him to her.
And it had obviously worked.
Mason checked his watch. “Vernon Ferguson should be arriving at the sheriff’s office soon. Grayson wants to question him.”
“So do I,” Abbie jumped to say.
He shook his head. “Not a good idea.”
“Ferguson already knows I’m here,” she pointed out. “And he might slip and say something.”
Mason gave her a flat look to remind her that wasn’t likely to happen. “I can arrange for you to watch the interview. You can even give Grayson some questions to ask, but I don’t want you in the same room with him. If we get lucky and are able to make an arrest, Ferguson’s lawyers could toss out anything he says because of the impropriety of having you in the interrogation room.”
Abbie considered that, nodded and thought back through what Mason had just told her. “Are there any solid connections between this Ace Chapman and Ferguson?”
“No.” He paused, checked on Kimmie and then looked at Abbie again. “But something’s not adding up.”
Abbie wasn’t sure where this was leading, and she didn’t get a chance to ask. That’s because a tall, silver-haired woman came rushing into the room.
“I can take Kimmie now so you can drive into town,” she said to Mason before her attention landed on Abbie. She made a slight hmmmp sound. “This is the girl Boone’s been raising?”
Mason nodded. “Abbie, this is Bessie Watkins. She takes care of the place.”
“And I take care of all the Rylands, too,” Bessie provided. She scooped up Kimmie but kept her weathered gaze plastered to Abbie. “So how is Boone these days?”
“He’s been better,” Abbie settled for saying.
It looked as if Bessie wanted to say more, maybe she even wanted Abbie to send Boone a scathing message for her, but the woman simply shrugged and patted Abbie’s arm. It was the closest thing she’d gotten to a friendly welcome since the Rylands had learned of her association with Boone.
“We need to leave now, but you can bring your coffee with you,” Mason said and started for the door.
That was Abbie’s cue to follow him, but first she deposited the coffee cup back on his desk. Despite her need for caffeine, she couldn’t finish it, not with her stomach churning over the thought of Ace Chapman and Ferguson.
Mason said goodbye to Bessie and Kimmie before he walked out and down the stairs. Abbie was right behind him, waiting for him to spill whatever he’d been about to say before Bessie came into the room.
He grabbed a black Stetson from the hooks on the wall near the door and led her outside to the truck parked at the side of the house. Not a flashy late-model vehicle. It was at least twenty years old, and the once-red paint was now scabbed with rust spots. She’d heard the ranch hands making fun of Mason’s ride, and she had to wonder why a man worth millions hadn’t bought something better.
She climbed inside and was surprised that the interior was spotless.
“It belonged to my granddaddy,” Mason said as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. And with that meager explanation, he drove away from the ranch.
His grandfather, the one who was murdered by the senator. Abbie was certain there was more to the story than she’d heard, and she wondered if it was connected to Boone.
Or to her.
“You said something didn’t add up about Ace Chapman,” she reminded him.
He nodded, paused. “Chapman isn’t the sort of killer who’d try to burn his victim. He’s a shooter. I watched the feed from the security cameras, and he broke into the cottage before he set the fire.”
Oh, God. Abbie pressed her hand to her chest to try and steady her heart. “He was inside when I was sleeping?”
“Yeah.” And that’s all Mason said for several moments. “He could have just killed you then. Shot you in bed. You would have never known what hit you.”
That chilled her to the bone, and her breath stalled in her throat. All Abbie could do was watch the Texas landscape fly by, and of course, at that moment when she was breathless and scared beyond belief, they passed a cemetery. A reminder of death that she didn’t need.
“On the security feed, I saw that Ace was holding something, and I had my brother Gage analyze it,” Mason continued. “Ace was filming you as you ran from the burning cottage.”
That took away the rest of her breath. Abbie turned and stared at him. “Why would he do that?”
Mason mumbled something, shook his head. “At first, before I knew he had a camera, I thought maybe he burned the cottage because there was something in it that he wanted destroyed. Something other than you. Was there?”
Abbie wasn’t so quick to answer no. She tried to think. “Just my personal items. Clothes. My cell phone.”
“Anything from or related to Boone?” he pressed.
The thoughts were jumping through her head. But so was the fear. “I had a photo of Boone and me in my wallet.” Abbie couldn’t think of anything else. “Maybe this assassin just wanted to make sure there was nothing inside that could be used to link him to Boone or Vernon Ferguson.”
“Maybe.” But Mason didn’t sound convinced. “There’s another reason he could have filmed it.” His pause was longer this time. Definitely a hesitation. “Maybe Ace was supposed to send the film to someone.”
Abbie didn’t have to think about this part. “To prove to the person who hired him that I was really dead.”
Mason lifted his shoulder. “But if he’d only needed to prove you were dead, he could have set up the camera in your bedroom and shot you.”
There was a chill again, and Abbie hated that her hands were trembling more with each passing moment. “What are you getting at?”
He glanced at her. “Maybe Ace was supposed to make you suffer. A fire would do that. And he would have proof of that suffering. Proof that he’d done the job someone paid him to do.”
She was shaking her head before he finished, but then the head shaking came to a screeching halt. “You think Ace maybe filmed it so he could show it to someone? To torment them?” And there was only person who fit that particular bill. “Boone.”
Mason made a sound of agreement, but it was somewhat lukewarm. “But why would Ferguson hire Ace to kill you and show it to Boone?”
“He wouldn’t,” Abbie mumbled. “If anything, Ferguson would do it the other way around. He would kill Boone to
get to me. I’m the one he wants.” And that caused her heart to start pounding.
This wasn’t making any sense.
Unless…
She thought back to the past few weeks. Boone had been so strange. Frightened, even. Did that have anything to do with Ace and Ferguson? Maybe. But even so, she was still the primary target. One or both was willing to kill her and then use her death in some way. Perhaps to get back at Boone.
But for what?
Was this the reason Boone had said the past was catching up with him?
Abbie’s gaze flew to Mason. “I have to warn Boone about what’s going on.”
“I called Marshal Harlan McKinney this morning,” Mason explained. “He’s aware of the possible danger and will contact Boone. In fact, he’s probably doing that right now.”
The relief was instantaneous. And short-lived. Yes, Marshal McKinney knew how to get in touch with Boone, but would it be in time? And would it be enough?
“For now, just focus on you,” Mason instructed. “Let’s get past the interview with Ferguson, find Ace and then you can get back to Boone.”
She nodded, knew that he was right, but Abbie couldn’t stop the blasted tears from burning in her eyes. Nor could she stop the hoarse sob that escaped her throat. It was bad enough that she was in danger, but now she had Boone and the entire Ryland clan in an assassin’s path.
“I need to make some kind of deal with Ferguson,” she said, thinking out loud. “I have to do something to stop him.”
Mason cursed and dragged her across the seat toward him. Abbie landed right against him.
“Use my shoulder,” he insisted. “Go ahead and have yourself a good cry before we get to the sheriff’s office. But any talk about making deals with Ferguson stops. I read the man’s file, and you’d be safer dealing with the devil himself.”
She wanted to say that the danger would stop if she were dead, but that might not be true. Abbie no longer had any idea what would keep everyone safe. And that tore through her heart. The tears came, despite her squeezing her eyes shut, and she wiped them away as fast as she could.
“Don’t say you’re sorry again,” Mason grumbled when she looked up at him. “Got that?”
Because that was exactly what she was about to do, Abbie stayed quiet. She stayed put, too, even though she knew this close contact was wrong. It didn’t make sense. In the middle of all of this, she shouldn’t be feeling all tingly because of Mason. He hated her. And the only thing that could result from this was more trouble added to the heap of it she already had.
Abbie eased away from him.
“Those weren’t many tears,” he pointed out. “Or maybe it’s the shoulder you object to?”
“The shoulder,” she readily confirmed. She risked glancing at him. “Thanks for the offer, but leaning on your shoulder comes with a high price.”
He didn’t deny it. Mason just kept driving, his attention on the road ahead as they entered Silver Creek. “Yeah.” And that was all he said. “I guess it’s true. Opposites do attract. But in our case, it can’t.”
Abbie couldn’t agree more. They had too much bad stuff in the way to even think about something as mundane as a kiss.
But still she thought about it.
Felt it, too. In fact, just thinking about Mason’s kiss rid her of the rest of that chill. And that’s the reason she moved all the way back to her side of the seat. The timing was perfect because Mason turned into the parking lot of the sheriff’s office and came to a stop.
Considering the awkwardness simmering between them, Abbie would have jumped from the truck, but Mason held her back and looked around. Not an ordinary look, but a cop doing surveillance of an area where an assassin might be hiding. Abbie cursed herself for not thinking of that on her own. She’d kept herself safe for twenty-one years, and it was as if she had forgotten everything Boone had ever taught her.
“Let’s go,” Mason insisted when he had finished checking out the area.
He led her through the back entrance and into a hall, and they’d barely managed to make it inside when a man stepped out from one of the open doors. Judging from his appearance, this was another of Boone’s sons. Also judging from the shiny badge clipped to his belt, he was a deputy sheriff.
The man’s attention landed on her, and she got a scowl. Yep, definitely a Ryland.
“Abbie, this is my brother Dade,” Mason said.
Dade didn’t respond. He turned his attention to Mason. “Vernon Ferguson is already here. I put him in the interview room.”
“Did he bring lawyers with him?” Mason asked.
“Two.” Dade gave a dry smile.
Abbie was surprised Ferguson hadn’t brought more. He could certainly afford it. Because he’d resigned as a police officer twenty-one years ago, he’d managed his late father’s estate and apparently added even more millions to it. She doubted all those earnings had been legal.
“Grayson and Gage will start the interview in a few minutes,” Dade continued. “They were just waiting for you to get here.”
“Then let’s get this show on the road.” Mason tipped his head toward a room just up the hall, and Abbie followed him.
So did Dade but not before aiming another scowl at her.
“Did Boone ever tell you why he hated us so much that he had to leave?” Dade tossed out there.
Like the scowl, she’d expected the question or one similar to it. “No. And he never told me why he hated himself either.”
Dade flexed his eyebrows and made a slight sound of amusement. “Grayson said you were the shy-and-quiet type.”
Abbie mimicked the sound of disapproval Dade had made. “He was wrong.” And she left it at that.
She was shy and quiet, but not when it came to defending Boone. Apparently, she would get a lot of practice doing that as long as she was around his sons. Hopefully not much longer. The first step to making that happen was this interview.
The moment she stepped into the room with Mason, she spotted Ferguson on the other side of what appeared to be a two-way mirror. Even though she knew he couldn’t see her, Abbie had to force herself not to take a step back, but it was a challenge. He sat there at the iron-gray metal table in his expensive dark blue suit, flanked on each side by lawyers in equally pricey clothes.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” Mason asked.
Unfortunately, Abbie didn’t even have to think about her answer. “Five years, three months.” She paused, gathered her breath. “Boone and I were working a ranch down in Laredo, and he showed up.”
“Did he try to kill you?”
“I wish.” But she waved that off. “It’s just, if he had, we could have had him arrested. But no. He was there to remind me that he could get to me anytime he wants. And he can. From time to time he sends me flowers. Notes. Anything to let me know I’m not safe and never will be.”
Mason made another of those sounds that could have meant nothing or anything, and she watched as Grayson and his brother Gage entered the room.
“Ferguson is going through a lot of trouble to keep tabs on you,” Mason commented. “Especially considering his fight was with your mother.”
Abbie nodded. “He probably thinks she told me some things about him. She didn’t. And if she had, I would have already gone to the cops with it.”
Mason stayed quiet a moment. “Because he’s obviously a warped man, maybe Ferguson wants to get back at Boone for helping you.”
That made the chill in her blood even worse. Because it was exactly something that Ferguson would do. The chill quickly turned to anger, and she hated Ferguson for going after the man who’d literally saved her life.
At that exact moment, Ferguson’s gaze lifted toward the mirror, and it seemed as if he knew she was there. Watching him. He smiled that oily smile she saw in her nightmares. Before she could stop herself, Abbie stepped back and tried to level her breathing.
“Marshal McKinney will offer Boone protection,” Mason explained.
His voice and body language didn’t change, but he’d no doubt noticed her little defensive maneuver. “And he’s already arranging a new identity for you. Probably not in Texas this time.”
No. Not in Texas. Which meant she’d have to leave her home and her career because Ferguson would trace her that way. She might have to leave Boone, too. That might be her only chance to keep him safe if Ferguson truly had him in his sights.
And that broke her heart.
Mason adjusted the audio so they could hear Grayson explaining the reason for the interview. However, he didn’t even finish before Dade appeared in the doorway of the observation room.
“We found Ace Chapman,” Dade said to Mason. He had his phone sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear.
Abbie pulled in her breath. She hadn’t forgotten about the hit man, of course, but Ferguson had distracted and unnerved her.
“Where?” Mason asked.
Dade lifted his index finger in a wait-a-second gesture and repeated the question to the person on the other end of the line.
A moment later, Dade cursed and drew his gun. “Ace Chapman is less than a block from here and headed this way.”
Chapter Seven
Mason forced Abbie to sit down in the sole chair in the observation room. Not that it would help, but the way she was trembling, he didn’t want her to fall on her face. And the chair was better than pulling her back into his arms. He wanted his arms and hands free in case Ace decided to do something stupid and storm the sheriff’s office.
“Mel and I will go after Ace,” Dade insisted. “You stay here with Abbie.”
Mel was Deputy Melissa Garza, and between Dade and her, they had enough firepower and experience to bring down the assassin. Mason would have preferred to be in on the fight himself, especially because this was the bastard who’d fired at Abbie and him, but he couldn’t take the risk. Instead, he shut the door the second Dade left. And he pulled his gun.
Pulling his gun didn’t help Abbie’s breathing and neither did the text he sent to Grayson to let him know what was going on. Abbie was able to see his brother’s reaction and Gage’s, too, when Grayson whispered the news to him.
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