Standoff at Mustang Ridge

by Delores Fossen

  He spotted one of the ranch hands in the doorway of the barn nearest the front of the property. The hand was armed with a rifle. So was the one sitting in a truck by the cattle gate that stretched across the entire road. The moment that Royce drove through, the hand shut the gate.

  “You have Angus cows,” Sophie mumbled. “I wasn’t sure what kind of livestock you raised.”

  Royce followed her gaze to the cows in the fenced pasture. They were indeed Angus, and since her father didn’t raise cattle, only quarter horses, he was surprised she even recognized the breed.

  “We have some Charolais, too,” Royce explained.

  Her attention went from the cows, to the outbuildings and then to the two-story ranch house where his father and sister, Nell, lived. Jake, Maggie and his niece, Sunny, were there, too, for now, but in another month or so they’d be moving to their own house that Jake was having built near the creek.

  “It’s a big place,” she commented.

  “Not as big as your father’s. And we won’t be staying here anyway. We’ll be at my house, and it’s a lot smaller than this place or yours,” he clarified. “It’s about a quarter of a mile from here.”

  “My father has land and the house, not me,” she said a moment later. “But he had to sell the livestock because of his money problems.”

  Yeah. Royce had heard that. And that brought him to something he should probably let lie, but Eldon’s money problems were perhaps connected to Sophie’s safety. “Why doesn’t he sell the ranch and pay off that loan shark?” Instead of trying to marry off Sophie to Travis.

  She shook her head. “Even if he got top dollar for the place, it wouldn’t be enough, and the ranch isn’t worth what it was a few years ago.”

  Royce had to replay that in his head to make sure he’d heard her correctly. Maybe the value had gone down, but Eldon still had a lot of land. “How much does your father owe?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure, but from what I can tell he owes about a dozen people close to a million dollars. I don’t know exactly how much of that has to be paid to Bonner.”

  Hell. “That was a lot of cash for Travis to cough up to marry you.”

  She made a sound of agreement. “But there’s a twist,” Sophie said as Royce came to a stop in front of his small, wood frame house. “My mother left me nearly ten million, and while there are a dozen or more conditions of her will that prevent me from giving money to my father and brother, there’s nothing that prevents my spouse from dipping into it.”

  “Isn’t that what prenups are for?” he immediately asked.

  “Travis refused to sign one.”

  He thought about that. And cursed. “Then Travis could be pressing for this marriage so he can get his hands on your money?”

  “Maybe. He said he wouldn’t sign a prenup because he has triple the money that I do and doesn’t need my inheritance, but I found some things in the papers I sent to Agent Lott that contradicts that. I believe Travis has the million to pay off my father’s debts, but I think it would also wipe out his liquid assets.”

  “Yet you agreed to marry him? Hell’s bells, Sophie, Travis could have been planning to kill you—” And his argument came to a halt. “But after the wedding. That’s the only way he could have gotten his hands on your money.”

  She nodded.

  “Travis could have sent the kidnappers, though,” Royce added.

  Another nod. “Maybe he was going to force me into the marriage. Or he’s sick enough to stage my rescue so that I’d go running into his arms.” She paused, shuddered. “But those men fired shots at us.”

  “Maybe not on Travis’s orders,” Royce had to admit. “They could have panicked or even thought they could scare us into surrendering.”

  Movement in the side mirror caught his eye, and Royce automatically went for his gun. He stopped, though, when he saw his father’s truck coming up the road. Royce cursed. He didn’t need this today.

  “Trouble?” Sophie asked.

  “Always,” Royce mumbled.

  He got out, Sophie did the same, and they went onto his porch, which was scabbed with ice. Sophie’s left foot slipped, sliding her right back into Royce’s arms, and that’s when Chet stepped from his truck.

  “Jake told me about the shooting,” Chet greeted in his usual snarling tone. “Is that why you brought her here?”

  Royce opened the door to his house and helped Sophie inside. It was not only warmer there, but it would get them out of the slipping embrace that his father had no doubt noticed.

  “Sophie’s in danger,” Royce informed his father. “And yeah, that’s why I brought her here.”

  Royce braced himself for a scathing reminder of that danger following her to the ranch. Chet had had a few run-ins with Eldon, so Royce figured his father would want her anywhere but there.

  Of course, Chet felt that way about most people.

  “I’ve heard talk,” Chet said, his attention landing not on Royce but Sophie, “that my son might have gotten you pregnant.”

  Sophie made a sound of pure surprise, and if Chet’s revelation hadn’t stunned Royce for several seconds, he might have made that sound, too.

  “Where did you hear that?” Royce demanded.

  “Around. Is it true?”

  “No,” Sophie insisted before Royce could tell Chet to mind his own business.

  “Good.” But there was no relief in Chet’s weathered eyes when he looked at Royce. “I didn’t think you were that stupid. Best to keep your jeans zipped around her sort.”

  Royce glanced at Sophie and saw the color rise in her cheeks. What Royce was feeling wasn’t embarrassment. It was pure anger.

  “Her sort?” Royce repeated. He eased Sophie back so he could step inside and meet his father’s gaze. “What? You afraid I’ll follow in your footsteps?”

  Royce didn’t give Chet a chance to answer. He’d made his point, and that point was for his father to back way off, especially when it came to Sophie.

  He shut the door. And locked it. While he was at it, Royce set the security system. From the window, he saw his father mumble something and then get back in his truck and drive away. Good. He could only take Chet in small doses, and that had been a big enough dose to last him for weeks.

  “Your father and you don’t get along,” Sophie commented. She took off her coat and put it on the peg next to the door.

  “No one gets along with Chet.” Royce shrugged. “Well, except my three-year-old niece, Sunny. He doesn’t bark and growl at her.”

  “Then there must be some good underneath that gruff exterior.”

  Royce took off his coat as well and put it over Sophie’s. “If there is, I haven’t found it yet. He definitely wouldn’t offer me a hug like your old man did you back at the sheriff’s office.”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “He loves me. I just wish he were more responsible.” She paused. “How do you think your father found out about the pregnancy lie?”

  He huffed, tried to rub away his headache. “I don’t know, and we won’t get the answer from Chet until he’s good and ready to spill it. But my guess is that Travis asked around to find out if we were seeing each other. Those kinds of questions wouldn’t stay secret long in a small town.”

  There was also the possibility that someone had seen Sophie and him at the party and had started a rumor about a one-night stand. It wouldn’t have been much of a leap to go from that to a pregnancy.

  Yeah. That’d be a tasty bit of gossip.

  “What was all that ‘following in your footsteps’ about?” she asked.

  Royce didn’t huff again, but he wanted to groan. He was hoping Sophie wouldn’t mention that, and he was sorry he’d let his temper get the best of him. About that, anyway.

  “My mom got pregnant before she and my dad were married. In fact, that’s why they got married. Chet had gotten her pregnant and her father forced a shotgun wedding. Mother was a city girl, not at all happy living on a ranch. And even before she got cance
r, she was miserable and unhappy.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sophie reached out and touched his arm.

  Royce wasn’t exactly comfortable with the sympathy. “Your parents don’t appear to have had a good marriage, either.”

  “No,” she agreed. “They divorced when I was seven. My mother got full custody of me, and we moved to Chicago. I had to beg her just to see my father and brother.”

  Well, Royce sure hadn’t known that. “I thought you stayed away by choice.”

  She lifted her shoulder. “Sometimes I did. It was easier than arguing with my mother, something we always did when I wanted to see my dad. And after college, my life and job were in Chicago so I had even more reasons to stay away.”

  “You ran your mother’s charity foundation,” he remarked. “Still do.”

  Sophie blinked as if surprised he’d known that. Royce was surprised, too, but when it came to Sophie, little details about her just seemed to stick in his head. He blamed that on the attraction, but the truth was, he’d found her interesting—in an “opposites attract” sort of way.

  “I remember when you moved back here last year,” he said. Yeah, definitely opposites, but that hadn’t stopped him from noticing her.

  “I remember, too. Stanton introduced us at a get-together at the Millers’.” She eased her hand from his arm. No longer touching him. “You hated me. Maybe still do.”

  Royce opened his mouth to deny that.

  “I heard you call me Prissy Pants, among other things,” she added. “And you made your disapproval crystal clear.”

  Royce couldn’t deny that. He had. “I tend to steer clear of women who aren’t comfortable in jeans and boots.” He groaned at the sound of that. “Except you look pretty darn comfortable in those jeans.”

  Hot, too.

  Royce especially didn’t want to voice that.

  Her mouth trembled a little as if threatening to smile. But no smile came. However, she touched him again. Well, not him exactly, but when she scrubbed her hands up and down her arms, she brushed against his sleeve.

  “So, you didn’t hate me. You hated my clothes,” she commented.

  Now Royce felt himself smile. And God knows why, because he didn’t have anything to smile about. He had a hundred things he should be doing instead of standing there while Sophie sort of touched him. Still, it felt good not to see the fear and worry in her eyes.

  Oh, man.

  He had that thought a moment too soon because when she looked up at him, the worry was back.

  “I’ve dragged you into a bad mess,” she whispered.

  He heard the apology coming on, and he didn’t want to listen to it. Royce didn’t want that worry on her face, either. And for reasons he really didn’t care to explore, he didn’t want her stepping away from him. He caught onto her arm when she started to move away, and he eased her back to him.

  Another hug.

  Yet more touching that he shouldn’t be doing.

  But judging from the way she pulled in her breath, she needed it. What she didn’t need was any other contact with him. Definitely no kissing.

  But then Sophie looked up at him at the exact moment that Royce looked down at her.

  Their breath met.

  The front of her body brushed against his.

  And his brain turned to dust.

  Royce made things worse by lowering his head, but Sophie lifted hers. Meeting him in the middle. And they met all right.

  Mouth to mouth.

  This time, the sound she made wasn’t one of relief. Nope. That little hitching sound of pleasure went through him like liquid fire because in that sound he heard the need. The heat—and worse, the surrender.

  Hell.

  One of them needed to stay sane here, and surrendering wasn’t a good way to do that.

  But the insanity didn’t stop with just a touch of their lips. Despite the lecture he was giving himself, Royce’s hand went around to the back of her neck, and he snapped her to him. Sophie did some snapping of her own by sliding her arms around his waist. And just like that, the kiss became openmouthed. Hungry.

  And very dangerous.

  He remembered that taste. One of the few things he did remember about kissing her at the Outlaw Bar. It made his body want more, more, more. So, Royce took more. He deepened the kiss. Pressed harder against her. Until his body wanted more than more.

  His body wanted sex with Sophie.

  Thank goodness they had to break for air because in that split second when they were gulping in breaths, Royce forced himself to remember that this wasn’t just a bad idea, it was crossing a legal line that shouldn’t be crossed.

  He let go of her. Not easily. But he eased back his hands and stepped away.

  Sophie didn’t come after him. Good thing, too, or he would have been toast. Instead, she stood there, breathing hard and looking very confused about what had just happened.

  She mumbled some profanity. “We don’t need this.”

  Royce couldn’t have agreed more. But that didn’t do much to cool the heat inside him. In fact, he was already thinking about what it would be like to be with her again. And this time, he would remember, unlike their encounter at the Outlaw Bar.

  The sound shot through the room, and because Royce was still fighting the effects of that stupid kiss, it took him a moment to realize it was just his phone ringing. He took the cell from his jeans pocket and saw that the caller was Tommy Rester, one of the ranch hands. Since Tommy was in charge of setting up security, Royce quickly answered it.

  “We got a visitor,” Tommy greeted. “Special Agent Keith Lott from the FBI. I made him show me his badge, and it looks real.”

  Because it probably was. “Where is he?”

  “At the gate. He said he went by the sheriff’s office in town but that Billy told him you’d already left. Billy wouldn’t say where you’d gone, but I guess Lott figured you might be here. I didn’t confirm that, though.”

  Good. “Did Agent Lott say what he wanted?”

  “Oh, yeah. And he didn’t mince his words. He said he was here to find Sophie Conway and that if we didn’t tell him where she was, he’d arrest us all on the spot.”

  Royce tried not to let his temper get in on this. Lott might be just concerned about Sophie, that’s all. And with good reason after that attack. Heck, the agent might believe he was holding Sophie against her will since Sophie herself had thought that Royce might want to do her harm.

  “Agent Lott is here?” Sophie asked.

  Royce nodded, and he moved closer to Sophie so she could hear what Tommy was saying. He had to decide how to handle this. But really there was only one thing he could do. He had to see the agent and hope that Lott could help him stop the person behind the attack. Also, Lott might be able to fill him in on the FBI investigation that had started all of this in the first place.

  “Bring Lott to my house,” Royce instructed.

  “Will do. One more thing, though,” Tommy added. “Agent Lott said he was here because this case wasn’t in your jurisdiction and that he’d be putting Sophie into his protective custody. Royce, he’s taking her to Amarillo, ASAP.”

  Chapter Seven

  Because Sophie had stepped way back from Royce, she hadn’t heard exactly what the caller said about Agent Lott, but judging from Royce’s renewed scowl, it wasn’t good. She tried to brace herself for another round of bad news and added a silent warning and reminder to herself that she should be focused on finding a way out of the danger.

  Instead of kissing Royce.

  Later, when her body had cooled down some, she might realize just how bad of a mistake that kiss had been. It had certainly broken down some walls between Royce and her, and it wasn’t a good time for that to happen.

  “Did they find the gunmen?” she asked. But Royce’s scowl didn’t offer much hope.

  Royce shook his head and pocketed his phone. “Lott wants to take you into protective custody.”

  Oh. That probably shouldn’t have b
een a surprise. After all, she’d nearly been killed just a few hours earlier, but Sophie hadn’t considered leaving Mustang Ridge.

  Or Royce.

  Yes, he was playing into her decision-making process as well, and he shouldn’t. Besides, getting away from him was probably a good idea. It might even get him out of danger.

  Might.

  Without offering her an opinion on how he felt about protective custody or Lott’s arrival, Royce disarmed the security system and opened the door. Just moments later, the black four-door car came to a stop in front of the house, and the bulky, blond-haired man got out. Ducking his head down against the wind, Agent Lott hurried onto the porch.

  Sophie had met with the agent at least a half-dozen other times, usually at a coffee shop or café. Never in his office where someone might see her coming and going. And in those meetings he had worn jeans and casual shirts. He hadn’t looked much like an agent.

  Today, he did.

  Lott wore a dark suit and mirrored shades. When the wind flipped back the side of his jacket, she saw the leather shoulder holster and the gun inside it. His badge was clipped onto his belt.

  “Sophie,” Lott greeted. He tugged off the shades and hooked them on the front of his shirt.

  Royce stepped to the side so Lott could enter the house, and he checked around the grounds. Maybe to make sure Lott hadn’t been followed. He finally closed the door several seconds later.

  “I’m S.A. Keith Lott,” he said, and Royce and he exchanged a handshake. “You must be Deputy McCall. I owe you a huge thanks for keeping Sophie safe.”

  “I was doing my job,” Royce answered, and he sounded a little offended that the agent had thanked him.

  “Are you okay?” Lott asked her.

  She nodded. “You know what happened?”

  “I got a full update from the Rangers. They didn’t find the gunmen, but the FBI’s trying to get a match on the blood taken from the woods.” He spared Royce a glance. “We pulled the Rangers off the investigation. The locals, too.”

  That didn’t improve Royce’s expression. “I asked the Rangers to come to assist,” Royce stated. “I didn’t ask you to come, and I damn sure didn’t give you permission to interfere in my investigation.”