Gage did listen, but he didn’t seem convinced that Nicole was telling the truth. “When you got this call, Ace was recovering from surgery. You didn’t think it was suspicious that he’d be calling you?”
“No. He was very convincing. And besides, I’ve never spoken to him, so I didn’t know it wasn’t his voice.”
When Gage just gave her a flat look, more tears came, and Nicole buried her face in her hands.
“You’re different,” Mason mumbled, getting back to Abbie’s earlier question, “because you get under my skin.” His glare morphed to a frown. “And what about the paint mare?”
“Rusty called and wants to get rid of her. I vote no on that. I can work with her…” She stopped. “If people will quit trying to kill me.”
Mason eased his gaze to hers. Stared. And then the corner of his mouth lifted. He leaned in and brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Yeah, you’re different.” And he turned his attention back to the interview.
Abbie didn’t want to let the conversation drop, but she had no choice—because of Gage’s next question.
“Did Ford leave orders for you to eliminate all the Rylands and Abbie Baker?” he asked.
“No, of course not,” Nicole jumped to answer. But then she stopped, shook her head. “Ford wanted all of you dead, I won’t deny that. He used to say that if anything happened to him, the Rylands would be behind it and he’d made sure that all of you would pay.”
The admission chilled Abbie to the bone. Yes, Ferguson had said that Ford wanted them dead, but this was confirmation that it’d been more than just talk.
“Who would do the paying?” Gage pressed.
“I don’t know. That’s the truth,” she added when Gage huffed. “I do know that Ford kept tabs on Boone all these years.”
Gage held up his hand in a wait-a-second gesture. “Ford knew where he was?”
“Yes. Ford said it was the only way to make sure Boone didn’t come back to Silver Creek. That was their deal, for Boone to stay away.”
“And he had,” Gage verified. “Until now. But he wasn’t in Silver Creek for the first attack and the fire at the ranch.”
True. Boone had been miles away. So his return hadn’t been the trigger for that attempt to kill her.
“Ford knew about Abbie, too,” Nicole continued. That grabbed Abbie’s attention. “He always said if necessary he could use Abbie to keep Boone cooperating.”
“Use her how?” Gage asked.
Nicole met his gaze. “How do you think? You knew Ford, and he wasn’t a Boy Scout.”
Oh, mercy. Ford would have hurt her to make Boone toe the line. It gave her the creeps to think that both Ford and Ferguson had been watching and waiting all these years.
Gage leaned forward, put his elbows on the table. “Tell me about the letter you got at the reading of Ford’s will.”
“That,” Nicole spat out. No more hunched-over shoulders. She sat up soldier-straight. “I’m not going to let you use that letter to arrest me for these attacks. Ford might have tried to blackmail me, but that doesn’t mean I’ve done anything wrong.”
Abbie didn’t know who was more surprised—Gage, Mason or her. It was the first time any of their suspects had admitted that Ford had left criminal instructions in those letters. Of course, Nicole might be lying, Abbie reminded herself, but she wanted to hear the rest of what the woman had to say.
Gage made a keep-going motion with his index finger.
“Ford was a pig,” Nicole snarled. “After all those years of working my butt off for him, he writes those three stupid letters, and he puts conditions on what he’d always promised he would give me.”
“What conditions?” Mason mumbled at the exact moment that Gage asked Nicole the same thing.
Her eyes widened, as if she’d said too much. But there was still a hefty dose of anger there, too. Again, maybe it was fake. Hard to tell with Nicole.
“Did you ask Ferguson and Stone about this?” she tossed back at Gage.
“We did. Both said the letters weren’t important.”
The sound she made was part huff, part laugh. “Right. And I invented the internet.” She got to her feet. “You want to know what Ford asked us all to do? Well, this is your lucky day, Deputy Ryland. I’ll call my lawyer now, and within an hour he’ll make a trip to one of my safety deposit boxes, and you’ll have the letter I got from Ford.”
Gage stood, too. “You can tell me now what it says.”
Nicole shook her head. “Best to read it for yourself, and then you’ll know why Ferguson and Stone lied.”
Chapter Sixteen
Mason tossed the copy of the letter onto the desk in his room. The one that Nicole’s attorney had delivered to the sheriff’s office earlier. He’d read it so many times that the words were burned into his memory, but it was the bottom line of that letter that turned his stomach.
And that bottom line was money.
Ford had set up a forty-million-dollar offshore account, and the money would be paid to the person who delivered eight death certificates to Ford’s attorney in the Cayman Islands. Death certificates for Mason, his five brothers, Boone and Abbie. There was even an order for them to be killed.
Abbie first. Then Grayson and his brothers. And finally, Boone.
Forty million was a lot of reason to kill.
But Ferguson probably hadn’t needed the money as an incentive. Maybe not Nicole either. Despite all those tears during the interview, Mason suspected she’d been in love with Ford. How far would she go to carry out his dying wishes? But then, Mason could say the same for Rodney Stone, who’d been one of Ford’s confidants and friends for years.
Mason understood why the Rylands were on that hit list, but he could only speculate as to why Abbie had been included. Maybe Ford considered her Boone’s daughter. Or maybe Ford had wanted Boone to have to endure losing everyone he’d loved and once loved.
That sure didn’t help the uneasy feeling in his gut.
Mason got up from the desk and headed for the shower. It was much too early for bed, not even 7:30, and too late for a ride to try to burn off some of that uneasiness. He felt like a powder keg ready to go, and it was best if he avoided everyone and everything.
The ranch was locked up tight. Every part of the security system was armed. And the ranch hands were standing guard. In other words, he’d done everything except figure out who’d taken Ford up on that offer to kill. More important, he hadn’t figured out how to stop that SOB from killing Abbie.
Mason got in the shower, the water way too hot to be soothing, but he needed the heat to unknot the muscles in his neck and back. He needed other things, too.
Specifically, Abbie in his bed.
But it would be stupid for him to go to her room just across the hall. He knew that. His body knew that. Heck, the state of Texas probably knew it, but the ache still settled hard and hot inside him.
Cursing the ache and himself, he finished the shower and dried himself. While still scrubbing the towel over his wet hair, he stepped into his bedroom.
And came to a quick stop.
At first he thought he was hallucinating, that maybe the ache in his body had caused him to see Abbie in his room. Not naked as in his fantasies, but close. This mirage, or whatever the heck she was, was wearing a thin white dress, and she had her back anchored against his closed door. Some hallucination.
But then he caught her scent.
Hallucinations didn’t smell that good.
It was Abbie all right.
“It’s a bad time for you to be here,” he snarled.
She ran her gaze down the length of his body. “That depends.” She stayed put, watching him. “Are you going to make me leave?”
He should do just that. Should. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He was going to screw things up beyond belief, and he would probably enjoy every minute of it.
Mason huffed, tossed the towel on the floor and walked to her. He should act like a gentleman and give he
r another chance to come to her senses and change her mind. He didn’t do that either. He made it to her, hooked his hand around the back of her neck and snapped her to him.
Abbie did her own snapping.
Her arms coiled around him, and their mouths met. Man, did they. It wasn’t a kiss exactly. More like a battle, and for some reason he couldn’t make his mouth and hands be gentle. Abbie needed gentle. But then, she needed a better man than him. Too bad he was what she was going to get.
Mason kissed her hard and deep until they were both starved for air. And for each other. Of course, the starving for each other had started days ago, so it didn’t need much fueling. Still, they added fire to fire when he lowered his mouth to her neck. Then her breasts.
He cursed the dress. Yeah, it wasn’t much of a barrier, but it had to go. Mason stripped it off over her head and found a nearly naked, warm and willing woman underneath. He pulled off her bra and panties and tried those breast kisses again and took her nipple into his mouth.
She froze, made a sound of pure pleasure.
“Breathe,” he reminded her. Reminded himself, too.
“I don’t want to breathe. I want you.” Her voice was all silk and sex.
“Yeah, I want you to want me. But we have to slow things down.”
She didn’t listen. Abbie unfroze, breathed and lifted herself to hook her legs around his waist. Oh, man. Sex against sex, and he was already hard as stone. If she changed the angle just a little, then that technical virginity was gone.
Abbie moved, changed the angle.
Of course she did.
Mason heard himself curse before the fireworks exploded in his head, and that hard-as-stone part went right into her with far more force than he’d intended. Yeah, fireworks all right and blinding, knee-weakening pleasure.
Abbie gasped, the back of her head hitting against the door.
That cleared his mind. Mason continued to curse, tried to apologize, but her gasp of pain, surprise or whatever the heck it’d been, turned to another sound. This one he had no trouble identifying.
It was a low moan of pleasure.
And more. That sound seemed to vibrate through her. Through him. Then she started to move.
The fireworks rifled off again, and he knew he was working on a thread of willpower. He couldn’t take her against the back of a door, so Mason caught onto her hips to stop the blinding thrusts of her lower body, and he carried her to the bed. The moment he dropped her on the mattress, she tried to pull him back on top of her.
“Hold that thought a second,” he insisted, and he reached for the nightstand drawer for a condom.
She didn’t hold anything. Abbie was bound and determined to finish this in record time. Mason wanted to finish it, too, but he was already screwing up enough tonight without adding unprotected sex to the mix.
“I want you,” she repeated at the end of one of those purrs.
“Yeah,” Mason settled for saying.
It was another battle to get the condom on, and while he fumbled—something he hadn’t done since he was sixteen—Abbie drove him crazy with some touches and kisses.
“Make the ache go away,” she whispered.
For a moment he considered that might be a real ache, not one fanned by the need. But nope, it was need. Because the moment he had the condom in place, she drew him right back between her legs, lifted her hips and took him into her.
She looked at him, met his gaze. “It’s better than I thought it’d be.”
Unfortunately, Mason felt the same, and that was saying something because his expectation had been a mile high.
He was in big trouble here.
Trouble that got worse because he didn’t just have sex with her. He kissed her. Tasted her. Gathered her into his arms. He forced himself to slow down. To savor every moment of this. Because in the back of his mind he had to admit he’d never felt this way and might never feel this way again.
Abbie did some savoring of her own. She slid her legs around him, using the strength of her toned muscles to thrust him deeper inside her. The purr became a throaty moan. Her hands pressed harder. Her embrace, tighter.
Mason knew she was close and wanted to ease back to make it last, but this wasn’t something that could go on very long. Not with the ache burning them both. So he gave her what she needed. He slid his hand between their bodies.
And he touched her.
Abbie gasped again. Not from pain. The climax rippled through her. Through Mason. She fought, twisted, dug her nails into his back and did the only thing her body could do when past the point of no return.
She let go.
Mason didn’t even try to fight it. But in that second when he was so near the snap in his head and in his body, he made the mistake of looking at her. At her sweat-dampened face. At her wide, surprised eyes fixed on him. At her mouth that he’d kissed too hard and fast.
At her.
And it was Abbie’s face so clear in his mind that sent him falling. He was too far gone to speak, to do anything but fall. However, that didn’t stop him from hearing Abbie.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Chapter Seventeen
Abbie immediately felt the change in Mason. His grip loosened, and his lax muscles went stiff. She hadn’t even allowed him a second to enjoy the climax of great sex before she’d no doubt ruined everything.
“I’ll be back,” she managed to mumble.
Mason didn’t stop her. In fact, he rolled to the side, and Abbie scooted off the bed. She grabbed her clothes, slipped on the dress and got the heck out of there.
I love you?
Abbie might as well have taken a hammer and hit Mason in the head. Talk about the worst possible thing she could say. And the really bad part?
It was true.
She did love him, but that didn’t mean he had to hear it. How she felt about him was her problem, not his, and she should have just kept her big mouth shut.
Abbie hurried back into the guest room, but she didn’t stop. She had to keep moving. Had to do something to ease the smothering pain in her chest.
Oh, yes. Here was that broken heart that she’d been dreading.
She washed up, dressed in the borrowed clothes—jeans, dark red shirt and boots—and stormed out of the room. Down the stairs. And she would have raced right out the door if one of the ranch hands hadn’t been standing in front of it. She didn’t know his name, but he had a rifle clutched in his hands. Abbie hadn’t forgotten the danger, but that was a clear reminder of it.
“I need to check on one of the horses,” she insisted.
He hesitated but then nodded. “I’ll call Rusty and let him know you’re on the way out.”
Better Rusty than one of Mason’s brothers. Especially Gage. He already knew about her feelings for Mason, and he would have probably seen the panic on her face.
Abbie waited impatiently for the ranch hand to disengage the security system. The moment he did that, she was out of there, on the porch and then in the yard.
It wasn’t late and with the nearly full moon and security lights, she didn’t have any trouble following the path. Or seeing yet another armed ranch hand. Once she was past him, Abbie broke into a run and was practically out of breath by the time she reached the stables. And a waiting Rusty.
“Does Mason know you’re out here?” Rusty immediately asked.
“I’m just checking on the mare you told Gage about,” she said, dodging his question.
And thankfully the mare was inside and not out in the corral or pasture. Yes, she needed some air, some space, but she didn’t want to risk being gunned by whoever had taken Ford up on his beyond-the-grave wish to have them all killed.
Abbie grabbed a carrot from the treat bin, something she wouldn’t have normally done. Rewarding a horse who hadn’t performed well was never a good idea. But then, she was apparently in a rule-breaking mood right now.
I love you.
Those three little words had sealed her fate and me
ant she’d lost Mason forever. He’d made it so clear that he wasn’t the commitment type. Heck, neither was Abbie. That’s one of the big reasons why she’d stayed a virgin. Until tonight. Tonight had changed everything and not for the good.
She walked the length of the stable to the last stall, where she spotted the mare. All in all, it was a good place to do some thinking. The back stable doors were partially open to allow the crisp night breeze to flow inside. Abbie could look out at the moonlit pasture while staying hidden. And under guard. Rusty kept his distance, but he didn’t budge, and like the other ranch hands, he was armed with a rifle.
“Rusty said you’re causing trouble.” Abbie offered the mare the carrot, which the horse immediately gobbled up. “Well, knock it off.”
The mare snorted, but it didn’t sound like much of an agreement. Abbie sighed, leaned against the wooden stable door and tried not to fall apart. She was failing big-time and on the verge of tears when she heard the footsteps and the too-familiar gait.
Mason.
He was walking slowly, deliberately, but he was coming toward her. Maybe to give her the boot. After all, he was her boss. Abbie preferred that to the alternative—a discussion about the I love you.
Mason, however, didn’t say a word. He just kept walking until he reached the mare’s stall, and he stopped right next to her. Abbie waited. And waited. But Mason just stuck his hand through the gate to stroke the mare.
“I figured you’d be running for cover,” she finally mumbled when she couldn’t take the silence any longer.
Mason took his time answering. “It appears I wasn’t the one doing the running.”
That snapped her gaze to his. “You can’t be saying you’re happy about what happened.” Specifically about what she’d said.
“No.” He drew out the word. “But I didn’t figure running would help. I can admit when I’ve screwed up.”
So there it was. His confirmation that it’d all been a big mistake. And although it was exactly what Abbie had expected, it still stung.
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