“You believed Ford?” Mason clarified.
“Oh, yeah. He’d just murdered his wife and your grandfather. I didn’t think it’d be much of a stretch for him to add two of my boys to the list.”
Boys. That hit hard, too. Mason had been sixteen and his father’s right-hand man at the ranch. Mason had wanted to be just like him. Until Boone walked out. And then Mason had just wanted him gone and out of their lives forever.
“What about Ford leaving instructions to kill us after his death?” Mason pressed.
Boone nodded, a muscle flickering in his jaw. “The same day that Ford ran me out of town, he said I couldn’t come back. Ever. I said I’d come back as soon as I put him in the grave.”
“You threatened to kill him?” Abbie asked.
Boone met her gaze. “I would have killed him, but he showed me a letter. It was instructions that in the event of his death, me and my entire family were to be killed.” He paused. “I didn’t think it was a bluff.”
No, not from Ford. He wasn’t the bluffing type. And that meant the danger was just starting.
For all of them.
Abbie stepped closer to Mason, her arm brushing against his, and she looked up at him as if she knew exactly what this was doing to him. And what it was doing was tearing him apart. He didn’t want to go through this again. Didn’t want to relive the memories of the god-awful past. He just wanted to toss Boone out and go back a couple of days.
But then Mason glanced down at Abbie.
Going back would mean there’d been no rescue, no kiss. No gentle arm brush. And that was a good thing.
Okay, it wasn’t, and all the lies he told himself wouldn’t change that.
That caused Mason to mentally curse again. He wasn’t sure why it was good to have Abbie here, but for the first time in a long while, he felt he had someone on his side. Even if having her there would complicate the heck out of an already-complicated situation.
“I don’t know who Ford instructed to kill us,” Boone continued. “I don’t know who got that letter. That’s what I’ve been trying to find out since the moment I heard Ford had committed suicide.”
“Lynette,” Grayson said, taking the name right out of Mason’s mouth. “I’ll call her.” He turned and headed up the hall in the direction of his office.
Abbie looked at Mason again. “Lynette?”
“Ford’s daughter. She’s married to my brother Gage. She and her father weren’t exactly close.” That was a massive understatement. Right before his death, Ford had tried to kill both Gage and Lynette despite the fact that Lynette was pregnant. “Still, she might know something.”
But Abbie shook her head. “Ford died nearly a month ago. Why didn’t this assassin he’d hired come after all the Rylands then? He might not have been able to find Boone, but the rest of you were all here in Silver Creek.”
Unfortunately, Mason had an explanation for that. “Ford’s will was read just two days ago.”
And shortly thereafter, there’d been the fire and then Ace Chapman’s attacks. Knowing what he’d just learned, it was hard for Mason to believe that it was all a coincidence.
But something still wasn’t right here.
“If this was Ford’s doing, then why set the fire that could have killed Abbie?” Mason asked.
All of them looked at each other for several moments, and it was Boone who finally spoke. “Maybe to make me suffer. If Ford found out that I’d practically raised Abbie, he might want her dead along with my sons.”
“Or,” Abbie said and then paused. “The fire and the attempts to kill me are all Ferguson’s doing.” Another pause. Her breath trembled a little. “Maybe Ford’s assassin is just getting started.”
Hell.
Mason couldn’t discount that. There could be two forces working against all of them, but that meant that Abbie could be a target from both sides. Abbie must have realized that, too, because the color drained from her face.
“Come on.” Mason caught onto her arm. “I’ll get you a drink of water. I also need to see what I can find out about Ace Chapman’s condition.”
Mason took a step. Abbie didn’t. “What about you?” she asked Boone.
He shrugged and dropped down into one of the reception chairs. “I’ll wait around and see what Grayson learns from Lynette.”
Abbie nodded. “I won’t be long.”
Mason didn’t miss the loving tone she used nor the loving look Boone gave her in return. Like father and daughter. Ironic. Mason had always heard his mother say that Boone had wanted a daughter. Well, now he had one. And he’d lost all his sons in the process.
Abbie followed Mason down the hall, and they paused at Grayson’s doorway. His brother was still on the phone with Lynette, so Mason went to his own office and took a bottle of water from the fridge.
“I thought you were going to rip Ferguson’s eyes out,” Mason said when he handed her the water. He also motioned for her to sit because she didn’t look too steady on her feet.
“I thought I was, too.” Abbie didn’t sit, but she did look up at him. “You stopped me. I’m not sure I want to thank you for that.”
Mason nearly smiled. Nearly. And then he remembered how the scumbag had made Abbie’s life a living hell. “If he’d touched you, I would have had to shoot him. I don’t want that. Not yet. Not until we’re sure he’s called off his dogs. It won’t do us any good if he’s dead and the attacks continue.”
“So you do think Ferguson is behind the attacks?”
“Maybe.” He rethought that. “But Ford was just as dirty, just as dangerous as Ferguson, and I wouldn’t put it past him to try to get some revenge.”
She groaned, shook her head. That’s when Mason decided to push the sitting idea again. He took her by the arm and eased her into the chair. “Stay put, drink your water and I’ll make some calls.”
She nodded, but there was no agreement in her eyes. “I know it hurts when you see Boone with me.”
Mason settled for a shrug.
“I know it hurts,” Abbie repeated. She paused, drank some water. “All those years he wasn’t happy. I never knew why, of course. And that’s a roundabout way of saying that he never stopped loving any of you.”
Mason wanted to believe that, but believing would mean letting go of the past. He wasn’t ready for that. “Remember, I put a bullet through the silver concho he gave me.”
Abbie stood, slowly, and placed the water on the edge of his desk. “I’m sorry, too, about the affair that Boone had.”
That put a damper on the cozy, protective feeling he had when looking down at Abbie. “Don’t apologize for him.”
“I’m not,” she insisted. “I’m telling you that I’m sorry because it must hurt, even after all these years.”
“It does.” And he wanted to hit himself for that too-easy but too-true confession.
Now it was Abbie who touched his arm. Not a good time for it with the air zinging, but Mason didn’t stop her. “I knew their marriage wasn’t perfect.” And he had to pause. “My mother was on antidepressants and would go into these dark moods where she wouldn’t come out of her room for days.”
“I’m sorry,” Abbie repeated.
“It was a long time ago,” he assured her. Mason lifted his shoulder. “Still, I didn’t know Boone had slept with Sandra Herrington.”
Abbie made a sound of agreement. “It apparently set a lot of bad things in motion.”
Mason couldn’t argue with that, but he was an adult now, and even though he didn’t want to give Boone an inch, he could see the situation through adult eyes. That didn’t mean he could forgive Boone, but Mason knew where the bulk of the blame belonged. On Ford Herrington.
A dead man.
“You’re not scowling,” he heard Abbie say, and that snapped his attention back to her.
Because a glare and a scowl were his usual expressions, he had to think about that for a second or two. He certainly hadn’t been thinking good thoughts, so maybe it had so
mething to do with that arm rub.
Mason stared at her. She stared back. And it was one of those moments where he could see pretty much what she was thinking, and whether it was good or bad, Abbie was just as puzzled about him as he was about her.
She shook her head, drew back her hand so that she was no longer touching him. “Just to let you know, I don’t make it a habit of doing this.”
Doing what? flickered through his mind. But a flicker was all the time he had because she came up on her toes, slid her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him.
The jolt was instant. And nice. It slid through him like the blazing Texas heat, and while part of him remembered that this just wasn’t a good idea, he couldn’t remember why it wasn’t.
Mason hooked his arm around Abbie’s waist, gathered her into his arms and kissed her right back. He figured if he was going to make things worse that at least it should aim for making them feel better first. And feeling better was exactly what happened.
Yeah, there was that blasted heat that got even hotter when her breasts pressed against his chest. But there was more than heat. The taste of her, like sweet summer wine. And the feel of her mouth beneath his. She was soft in all the right places, and one place in particular made Mason hard as stone.
She pulled back, gasping a little, and looking more than stunned. Mason knew how she felt. He was pretty sure that kiss shouldn’t have felt that good, and Abbie’s taste shouldn’t still be on his lips.
Oh, man.
And Mason just kept mentally repeating that.
The corner of her mouth lifted. “Now you’re scowling.”
He met her gaze. “I don’t want to want you.”
“Yes.” She brushed her lips over his again. “I know.”
Their gazes held, and Mason had no idea what he could say to cool this down, but he figured he had to say something. He didn’t get that something out, however, before he heard the footsteps. They stepped away from each other. But not in time. His brother Dade appeared in the doorway and gave them a glance that quickly turned to a cop’s stare.
“You want something?” Mason asked to stop his brother from asking his own question. A question that would no doubt involve what was going on between Abbie and him.
“Yeah.” And that’s all Dade said for several moments while he continued to look them over. “Ace is in surgery, and the hospital will call when he’s out.”
Mason mentally punched himself again. Ace Chapman should have been in the forefront of his mind. Not kissing Abbie. This attraction was a distraction, and it wouldn’t help him get to the bottom of what was going on.
“Why is he still here?” Dade asked, hitching his thumb in Boone’s direction.
Mason could go a couple of ways with this, but he took the easy road. “He’s waiting for news.”
Dade’s lifted eyebrow was a cue for Mason to provide more, and he would have if Grayson hadn’t come up the hall.
“It’s Lynette,” Grayson announced. “She found something.” He clicked the speaker button on his phone and lifted it for them to hear.
“I went through the probate records,” Mason heard his sister-in-law say on the other end of the line. “I wasn’t at the reading of the will, but my father apparently left three sealed letters in a safety deposit box in San Antonio. He also left instructions with his lawyer to hand out those letters after his death.”
Beside him, Abbie pulled in a hard breath. Grayson wasn’t faring much better in the breath department. Because, Mason doubted that Ford had left inspirational advice or good tiding in those sealed envelopes.
“Who got the letters?” he asked.
And Mason braced himself for news that he was certain he didn’t want to hear.
Chapter Eleven
“Those letters went to Rodney Stone and Nicole Manning,” Abbie heard Lynette Ryland say. “And the third went to Vernon Ferguson.”
Lynette paused, no doubt when she heard their collective groans and mumbles. “Is Ferguson the man you think tried to kill the horse trainer at the ranch?”
“The very one,” Grayson assured her. “Any idea what was in those letters?”
“None,” Lynette quickly answered. “As I said, I didn’t even go to the reading of the will, but I can ask my father’s former secretary. She and I are still close, and she might have typed the letters for him.”
To Abbie that sounded like a long shot. Considering the possible nature of the letters, the senator would have typed them himself. Or hired someone he could eliminate. But right now long shots were all they had.
That, and Ace.
If he survived the surgery, they might be able to get him to confess the name of the person who had hired him, and if they got very lucky, maybe he would tell them what the letter had said. Of course, Ferguson had already admitted that he knew Ford had left instructions to kill them all, so maybe the letters were just that: instructions to kill.
“What about a connection between Ferguson and your father?” Mason asked Lynette. “Did you find anything other than this letter to link the two men?”
“Nothing so far. In fact, I just searched through the computer files I have, and Ferguson’s name isn’t mentioned. I’ll keep digging. I don’t have access to all of my father’s things—he disowned me a few days before he killed himself—but before he died, I copied some of his files. Lots of them,” she corrected. “I’ll go through those now.”
“Look for a connection that happened about twenty years ago,” Mason added.
An uncomfortable silence went through the room, and Abbie knew why. Twenty years ago was when Boone had left and Ford had killed both Chet Ryland and Lynette’s mother. The very woman who had had an affair with Boone.
It was also the year Ferguson had gunned down Abbie’s own mother.
On the surface, this shouldn’t be connected, but maybe she was missing something. Or someone. The only real living link to all of this was Boone himself. But certainly if Boone knew something, he would tell her, right?
But he hadn’t told her about the affair. In fact, Boone had kept a lot of secrets.
Abbie quickly pushed that aside. She wouldn’t doubt him, not after everything he’d done for her.
“If I find anything, I’ll let you know,” Lynette assured them.
“Thanks.” Now it was Grayson’s turn to pause. “You do know that Boone’s back in Silver Creek?”
“Yes,” Lynette said cautiously, as if she’d just stepped on a few eggshells. “Gage is, uh, considering what to do. I warn you, though, he’s not happy about this.”
The brothers exchanged uneasy glances. “Try to keep Gage away from here for a while,” Grayson suggested. “A fight won’t do us any good right now.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Lynette promised. “But Gage is, well, Gage.”
Another brother. One who no doubt hated Boone as much as the others, because there was a possibility of a fight. It had already been a long morning, but it was apparently about to get a lot longer.
“We already knew that Ferguson had contact with Nicole Manning and Rodney Stone,” Mason reminded them the moment Grayson ended the call. “And contact with Ford, too. It’s not much of a stretch for Ford to give a lowlife like Ferguson an order to kill. Ferguson could have then hired another lowlife like Ace.”
The brothers exchanged more groans. “Three letters,” Dade repeated. “That means all three of the people who received them can continue to point fingers at each other.”
Oh, mercy. Abbie hadn’t even considered that. Maybe only one letter was a death warrant, and the other two were there just to muddy the waters. If so, it would work because no one would simply confess to conspiracy to commit murder.
Even though Abbie had never met Ford Herrington, she was getting a clearer picture of what he’d been capable of, and of course, he would attach himself to someone equally evil like Ferguson.
“I’ll get Nicole and Stone back in here for questioning. Ferguson, too,” Grayson in
sisted although he didn’t sound any more optimistic than Abbie felt.
Mason looked at Abbie. “Did Ford ever contact you?”
“No.” And Abbie was almost positive of that. “Twenty years is a long time. A lot of people have come in and out of our lives, but I don’t remember Ford. And I think I’d remember seeing him.”
Mason made a sound of understanding. “Our,” he mumbled.
Our as in Boone and her. Abbie wished she could take it back because the scowls returned to all of the Ryland brothers’ faces.
Mason pushed past her, and with all of them following, he made his way back to the front of the building where Boone was still waiting. Boone was seated, but the moment he spotted them, he eased to a standing position.
“Something else wrong?” Boone asked. His gaze went straight to Abbie.
“Maybe.” She figured this would sound better coming from her than his sons, because their scowls had returned. “You said Ford came to see you, to tell you that your wife had committed suicide. Did he see me?”
Boone scrubbed his hand over his forehead, and for a moment he looked confused. That was before the concern slashed through his eyes. “You think—” But that was as far as Boone got.
The back door flew open, the movement so abrupt that it slammed against the wall. She heard Mason mumble some profanity under his breath. Dade did, too.
And Abbie soon saw why.
It wasn’t Ferguson or some gunman, but there was a threat nonetheless. She automatically stepped in front of Boone, and just as automatically, he pushed her to the side.
So he could face their visitors head-on.
* * *
MASON WATCHED AS HIS brothers walked in. First, Nate. The calm and sensible one who was also Dade’s fraternal twin. Nate didn’t look ready to explode. But the other two, well, that was a different story. Gage and Kade were spoiling for a fight. Lynette obviously hadn’t been able to convince Gage to stay out of this.
“It’s true,” Gage spat out like profanity.
Mason was far from being a fan of Boone, but Abbie had already been put through too many wringers today.
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