The Horseman's Son

by Delores Fossen

  They had to make sure it stayed that way.

  “The sheriff will be here soon,” she reminded him. And herself. She silently repeated it like a mantra.

  Her heartbeat was so loud in her ears that it took her a moment to realize she was hearing the sound of a siren. Hopefully, from the sheriff’s squad car.

  Dylan looked at her. His eyes were wide and vigilant. And then he cursed.

  Because the shots stopped.

  “The gunman’s getting away,” Dylan insisted. He tried to rear up, but again Collena restrained him.

  “You can’t go out there,” she warned. “It could be an ambush.”

  “He could be going after Adam.”

  That realization was like a knife to her heart.

  With their gazes locked, she released the grip she had on him and got to her feet, as well. “Not outside,” she whispered. “We can go through the corridors and get to the nursery.”

  Of course, that didn’t mean the gunman wasn’t waiting for them to do just that. The person could have a rifle aimed at the one spot that they would try to get to: the corridor door.

  “We can dive behind the desk and use it as cover,” Dylan suggested. But he didn’t just suggest it. He dove, landing behind the thick oak that would hopefully shield him from any more bullets.

  Collena was about to start her own dive when she heard the sound.

  A sound that stopped her heart—breaking glass.

  And it came from the other side of the house.

  “ADAM,” DYLAN WHISPERED. He had to get to his son. Because that sound could mean the gunman was breaking into the nursery.

  “Go!” Collena shouted to him.

  Dylan did. He didn’t wait for Collena, and prayed she could stay out of the line of fire. Instead, he crawled to the door, opened it and scurried into the corridor. Once there, he got to his feet and started racing toward the nursery.

  He checked over his shoulder and saw that Collena wasn’t too far behind him. She wasn’t armed, and he couldn’t take the time to find her a weapon. Every second was crucial.

  There was another crash. Not a bullet. More broken glass. It’d probably come from a window where someone was trying to break in.

  Dylan ran faster, and it seemed as if the siren from the sheriff’s car got louder with each running step he took. He didn’t even pause when he got to the nursery. Dylan threw open the door.

  Adam was sleeping in his crib. There was no broken glass anywhere.

  Behind him, he heard his cell phone ring, and Collena answered it as she ducked into the nursery with him.

  “It’s the sheriff,” she relayed to him. “He spotted someone running away from the house, and he’s going in pursuit.”

  Well, that was a start, but it wouldn’t do squat for them if the gunman backtracked. “Lock the door,” he told Collena. “Move the crib away from the windows and to the corner of the room.”

  She immediately began to do as he asked. “Where’s Ruth?”

  “I don’t know.” But he intended to find out. For now, he took up watch by one of the trio of floor-to-ceiling windows in the nursery.

  Once Collena had moved the crib, she grabbed the security monitor from the changing table and began to flip through the various camera angles.

  “Do you see anything?” Dylan asked. Because from the window, he didn’t see either the sheriff or the shooter.

  “The entire screen is nothing but static.”

  Dylan cursed again. He didn’t think that was a coincidence. And while he was thinking, he tried to put a name to the person who’d just tried to kill them.

  Rodney Harmon, probably.

  But he wasn’t about to rule out anyone just yet. “Call Ina,” Dylan instructed. “Find out where everyone is and if they’re safe.”

  He watched, waiting, as Collena made the call. She kept her voice low, practically at a whisper, so she wouldn’t wake Adam.

  “Ina’s okay,” she said several moments later. “But she’s alone in the kitchen. She doesn’t know where anyone else is.”

  That was not what Dylan wanted to hear. Even if Ruth, Millie and Hank were nowhere to be found, at least the two P.I.s should have heard something from the guest suite where they’d set up their office. But thankfully, he heard something that he welcomed. Sheriff Hathaway’s voice.

  “Dylan, it’s me—don’t shoot.”

  Dylan opened the window as the sheriff approached the exterior of the house. “Please tell me you got the gunman.”

  The lanky, sandy-haired sheriff still had his gun drawn, and he was still darting glances all around him. He shook his head. “Afraid not. I didn’t even get a good look at him. The person was dressed all in black and was wearing a ski mask.”

  Hell. “Could it have been Rodney Harmon?”

  “Coulda been anybody.” He tipped his head toward the back porch. “I’m coming in through the kitchen. Stay put until I’ve had a chance to look around.”

  Dylan welcomed the help because he didn’t want to leave Adam and Collena until he was sure that it was safe.

  He kept guard at the window and listened for any sound to indicate that an intruder was in the house.

  And then he saw Ruth.

  The woman was coming out of one of the barns. She was dressed in her pants and a sweater top, but she wasn’t wearing a coat. Maybe she’d heard the gunfire and hidden there. But if so, why hadn’t she tried to get to Adam? That should have been her first priority, even above her own safety.

  “If Rodney Harmon is behind this, he won’t stop,” he heard Collena say.

  Dylan glanced back at her. She was standing guard over the crib, but she was also looking out one of the other windows. She’d seen Ruth, as well.

  “If he’s behind this,” Dylan clarified. But he couldn’t be positive that he was.

  Too many things had gone wrong since Collena’s arrival, and while it was true that Harmon wanted to kill her, Dylan couldn’t rule out that someone else might have been responsible for this shooting.

  “It’s me—Sheriff Hathaway,” said a voice from the other side of the door.

  With his gun still ready, Dylan went to the door and opened it.

  “No sign of a gunman inside,” the sheriff volunteered. “But someone not only shot out the doors in your office, they shot the windows in the dining room. And those two guys in that room at the end of the hall have been drugged or something. They’re knocked out cold, and there’s an empty pizza box sitting on the coffee table.”

  The pizza they’d had delivered just an hour earlier.

  “Ina says there’s something wonky with your security system,” the sheriff continued. His attention went to Collena. “Here’s what I think happened. About two minutes before I got Ina’s call about the shooting here, I got a call from Marla Jenkins’s boy. He was supposed to be delivering pizza out here, but he says someone sneaked up behind him and hit him with something. A shovel, he thinks. Next thing he knew he was tied up and shut in the Dumpster outside the pizza place.”

  “You think the man who delivered the pizza was Rodney Harmon?” Collena asked. Adam stirred, and Collena tried to soothe him by rubbing his back. Dylan wished he could do something to soothe her because Collena was pale again, and her hands were trembling.

  “I think that’s a strong possibility.”

  Dylan processed that, and he didn’t come to a good conclusion. “If it was Harmon, then why didn’t he just shoot his way in when the P.I.s opened the door? Why would he sneak onto the property posing as a delivery man, only to then walk at least two hundred yards away before he started shooting?”

  The sheriff lifted his shoulder. “I don’t have an answer for that.” He studied Dylan. “But I’m guessing you might have some idea?”

  He did, but he didn’t have time to voice it before he heard footsteps. The sheriff turned, but immediately relaxed. “It’s Ruth.”

  Collena moved protectively in front of Adam.

  “Is the trouble over?
” Ruth asked. She peered past the sheriff and looked at Dylan.

  “Where were you?” Dylan asked, and he was certain it sounded just the way he meant it—as an accusation.

  Ruth drew back her shoulders. “Outside, checking on that new mare. I stayed there and hid when I heard the shots. Why?”

  “Are you willing to let the sheriff test you for gunshot residue?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What are you saying, Dylan? Do you think I’m responsible for what happened?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I know I can’t risk having you here.”

  “What’s going on, Mother?” Millie asked from the corridor. Several moments later, she joined Ruth and stood side by side with her. Both of them stared accusingly at Dylan.

  Ruth didn’t answer her daughter, but Dylan did. “I think it’s best if you, Ruth and Hank move to the hotel in town for a while. Until we can get all of this straightened out.”

  “What’s to straighten out?” Ruth asked. She fired a nasty glance at Collena. “You’re responsible for this. You’ve been trying to come between Dylan and me since you stepped foot in this house.”

  “I only want to make sure Adam is safe,” Collena answered.

  “No. You don’t want to share Dylan or Adam with anyone. Especially with me.” With each word, the anger in her voice climbed, and Dylan could see a vein bulging on her neck. “I raised Dylan. He’s as much a son to me as if I’d given birth to him. That doesn’t mean I can’t see when he’s making a mistake.”

  “Let’s go, Mother,” Millie said, taking Ruth’s arm.

  But Ruth held her ground and glared at Collena. Dylan stepped between them so he could make eye contact with Ruth. “This isn’t Collena’s fault. I’m the one who wants you to move out.”

  “I’ll never believe that. She’s just like your sister—can’t you see that? Demanding. Manipulating. Always trying to have you to herself.”

  Dylan felt himself freeze. “What did you say?”

  Ruth stilled, and she frantically shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Millie tried to pull Ruth out of the room, but Dylan stopped both women. However, he directed his question to Ruth. “Do you know something about my sister’s death?”

  “She knows nothing,” Hank said. He was in the corridor, just behind the sheriff. “And this conversation is over.”

  Hank brushed past the sheriff and grabbed both women by their arms.

  Millie looked back at Dylan. “I need to tell you something.”

  “Talking time is over,” Hank declared. And he hurried Millie out the door before she could say anything else.

  Chapter Eleven

  Collena glanced around her suite and made sure everything was checked off her mental list. They’d decided to stay in her suite rather than Dylan’s because there were fewer windows and because his had French doors that led to an outside patio.

  The crib was in place—tucked in the corner of the bedroom away from any windows and doors. Since it was already close to midnight, Adam was sound asleep, resting beneath a pale blue blanket, with his favorite stuffed horse snuggled against his chest.

  All the windows were locked and the curtains drawn. Collena had checked that; so had Dylan and the two P.I.s. The security system was set for the interior and the perimeter of the ranch. Both she and Dylan were armed, and one of the P.I.s was standing guard outside the suite door to make sure no one got in. The other was in the family room on the other side of the house and would keep watch on the motion-activated security monitor.

  In other words, they’d done everything they could to keep Adam and themselves out of harm’s way.

  It had to be enough.

  Because Collena didn’t even want to consider the alternative. She couldn’t go through another round of shooting. It’d taken ten years off her life when she’d realized that Adam could have been hurt.

  However, the shots all seemed to be aimed at Dylan and her. Or maybe the bullets had been meant solely for her and the shooter had been willing to take Dylan out during the process. Either way, it could have been a deadly situation, and they were lucky to be alive.

  Collena had taken a long shower once Adam had fallen asleep around eight o’clock. The steamy hot water had helped relax her a little. So had the herbal tea and turkey sandwich that Ina had fixed for her. But Collena wasn’t holding out hope that she would get much sleep tonight. She’d be listening for any sound or sign that the gunman had returned for another round.

  Dylan was pacing in the sitting room while he talked to the sheriff. It was his sixth call to the man since the shooting. Collena figured there’d be many more but hopefully not tonight. Dylan was exhausted, and it was obvious that nothing was going to be accomplished at this late hour.

  “No sign of Rodney Harmon,” Dylan said in a whisper to her when he ended the call.

  It’d been too much to hope differently. Besides, the security system was fixed now. Or rather, it was now turned on. Shortly before the shooting, someone had apparently disarmed it using the power-supply box located outside the house. Or maybe it had just malfunctioned on its own. Just in case, Dylan had given the box a new lock and had made it tamperproof.

  She hoped.

  Collena walked toward him. A closer look revealed his sleep-weary eyes and the way stress had tightened the muscles in his face. “What do you think Millie wanted to say before Hank forced her to leave?”

  He rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know—maybe that her mother is a killer. Ruth certainly let something slip with that comment about my sister.”

  Yes. Collena had gone over that a hundred times. “It could mean nothing.”

  “It could mean everything,” Dylan countered. He sank down on the foot of the bed. “I’m going to contact their therapist, but it’s hard for me to accept that, for all these years, I might have had a killer living beneath my roof.”

  “I know.” Because he looked as if he could use it, she touched his arm and rubbed it gently. “But Rodney Harmon is still our number-one suspect. When he’s caught, then you can decide if you want to smooth things over with Ruth and the others. In the meantime, you need to get some rest.”

  He turned toward her. “You know I’m not leaving this room, right?”

  “I know.” She didn’t want him to leave. As difficult as it would be for them to spend another night together, Collena wanted Dylan close in case something went wrong.

  He reached out, hooked his arm around her and pulled her onto the bed with him. Apparently, he didn’t have anything sexual in mind because he simply maneuvered them to the head of the bed so their heads were on the pillows, and then he pulled the side of the comforter over them.

  Collena was still dressed in jeans and a loose shirt, but she was also wearing her shoulder holster and weapon. It was digging into her side, so she sat up, slipped it off and put it on the nightstand. In the process of removing the holster, one side of her top slipped off her shoulder. She quickly tried to put it back in place.

  But Dylan noticed the scar.

  “What happened there?” He traced the still-pink scar with his finger.

  “Gunshot wound.” She wanted to keep the explanation short, but Dylan questioned her with his stare. “One of the investors at the Brighton Birthing Center was aiming at someone else—another victim—but shot me instead. Don’t worry. He’s in a maximum-security prison. In addition to shooting me, he was responsible for the death of another woman.”

  “Did he have any part in what happened to you right after Adam was born?” he asked after a long pause.

  “Probably not.” She carefully put her gun on the nightstand close enough that she could still reach it. “I think that was all Rodney Harmon.”

  Anger went through his eyes. “It makes me sick to think that he was even in the same room with you and Adam, and at a time when you were so vulnerable. You’d just given birth, for God’s sake, and he used you like a punching bag.”

  She heard the sympathy in hi
s voice and could see it in his expression. It had been there since he’d seen that photo taken of her shortly after the attack.

  “I know what’s going on,” she said at the end of a heavy sigh. “You’re not really attracted to me. You have this male need to safeguard me. You’re a natural protector.”

  He continued to stare at her. “I wasn’t able to protect Julie and Abigail.”

  “Not from lack of trying.” She considered giving Dylan a reassuring hug. But even reassuring hugs could get out of hand. “The need to protect me is now all mixed up with what you think is attraction.”

  “What I think is attraction,” he repeated. There was a dangerous edge to his voice, as if she’d just pushed a button that shouldn’t have been pushed.

  The air between them changed.

  He changed.

  That edge slipped into his eyes.

  Collena didn’t back away. She wasn’t afraid of him. But she was afraid of what she’d started. So much for analyzing him and blowing off the attraction.

  “Let’s test your theory,” he said. “Let’s see if there’s any lust buried beneath all that need to protect you.”

  And with that, he reached out lightning fast.

  He latched on to a handful of her hair and pulled her to him. Before Collena could even catch her breath, Dylan lowered his head and took her mouth as if he owned her.

  Of course, Dylan hadn’t needed the kiss to prove that lust to him, but he wanted to prove it to Collena. Why, he didn’t know. And maybe proving it was simply an excuse to do something he’d been wanting to do for hours. Kiss her. Taste her. Hold her. And then push hard and deep into her until she quit trying to dismiss the attraction between them.

  But she wasn’t dismissing anything.

  From the moment his mouth touched hers, Collena became a willing participant. She kissed him right back. She also lifted her arms, first one, then the other. She slid them around his neck, brushing his chest with her breasts.