Standoff at Mustang Ridge

by Delores Fossen

  Much too close to Royce, too.

  Royce leaned out again, directly in front of the window, fired and ducked back behind cover.

  The gunmen returned fire, the bullets pelting into the window and the side of the house. Sophie saw the spray of drywall and wood and realized some of the shots were tearing through the exterior wall and coming into the room. But they weren’t just coming from the direction of the bedroom window, they were also coming from the back of the house and ripping through the bathroom, as well—where Royce and she had been just minutes earlier.

  “We have to move,” Royce insisted. “Get down as low as you can and crawl into the living room to the side of the sofa.”

  Sophie dropped to her belly and started making her way there. The shots didn’t stop. In fact, they were coming at them even faster.

  Her heart was in her throat now. Racing out of control. And even though her hands were shaking, she tried to keep a firm grip on the gun in case she had to help Royce return fire.

  It seemed to take hours for her to get from the bedroom to the sofa, and she pressed herself against it, making room for Royce. He didn’t come right away, something that didn’t help her racing heart, but he finally scampered out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. He’d barely gotten to her when his phone buzzed.

  Volleying his attention between the doors and windows, he took the call on Speaker.

  “We got a problem.”

  Not Tommy, but it was a voice she recognized. It was Royce’s father, Chet. “Just got a call from one of the hands. Tommy’s been shot, and he’s pinned down by the side of your truck.”

  Sophie’s breath vanished. Oh, God. The man trying to protect her had been hurt. Maybe worse.

  “I’ve already called for an ambulance,” Chet said, “but you know those medics can’t get to him with all this shooting going on. I’ll see what I can do to get to Tommy and help him.”

  “No.” Royce glanced at her, took her by the shoulder and pushed her flat on the floor. “Stay put,” he insisted. “I need you to make sure neither of the gunmen gets into the house with Sophie.”

  “You gonna help Tommy?” Chet asked.

  “Yeah. Just make sure you watch the house.” And with that, he ended the call.

  Sophie frantically shook her head. “It’s too dangerous for you to go out there.”

  “It’s too dangerous for Tommy if I don’t help,” he countered. Royce didn’t give her a chance to disagree. “Lock the door behind me and then get back down. If anyone you don’t recognize comes through a window or door, shoot him. And don’t even think about following me.”

  The warning had barely left his mouth when Royce raced toward the door and hurried out.

  * * *

  ROYCE HATED THE IDEA of leaving Sophie alone in the house, but there was no other option. It was too dangerous for his father to try to cover the distance between the main ranch house and Royce’s truck. There was too much open space where Chet could easily be gunned down. Plus, the gunmen had the upper hand. They’d clearly established position where they could pick off anyone and everyone who tried to make it to the wounded ranch hand.

  But maybe the gunmen wouldn’t count on someone coming from the front of Royce’s house.

  And that’s exactly what Royce planned to do.

  He only hoped his father could manage to stop anyone from getting inside. Chet still had a good aim. Good eye, too. So maybe Chet could keep these would-be killers away from Sophie. And there was no doubt in his mind now that they’d come here to kill rather than kidnap. If they’d wanted her alive, they wouldn’t have fired all those dozens of rounds directly into the house.

  Royce paused a moment on his front porch until he heard Sophie lock the door as he’d ordered her to do. He wished he could have taken the time to reassure her, but any reassurance at this point might be a lie. Yeah, they had more ranch hands than gunmen, but the hands weren’t hired assassins.

  He went to the end of the porch and peered around the side of the house. Royce immediately spotted his truck that had been riddled with bullets.

  And he spotted Tommy.

  The ranch hand was on the ground between the house and vehicle, and Tommy had his left hand clutched to his shoulder. There were blood on both his hand and jacket.

  Hell.

  He had to do something fast or Tommy might bleed to death. It wouldn’t take the ambulance that long to respond, but Chet was right about the medics not being able to come in with bullets flying.

  Keeping low, Royce eased over the porch railing, his boots landing without sound in the snow. Of course, being heard wasn’t a huge concern since the din of nonstop shooting was deafening. The shots gave him another advantage, too.

  Royce was able to pinpoint the location of the shooters.

  One was still behind the massive oak only twenty yards or so from his house. The other was farther toward the back and was firing into the bathroom.

  Keeping close to the house, Royce inched his way toward the truck. He had to do something about the shooter behind the tree to stop any other bullets from slamming into Tommy.

  But how?

  How could he draw the SOB out into the open so he could stop him?

  A noise distraction wouldn’t work, so Royce pushed aside some snow and located a rock. Using his left hand, he hurled it in the direction of the tree and immediately took aim. The moment the rock hit, he saw the movement.

  The gunman pivoted out from the tree.

  And fired.

  Directly at Royce.

  Royce fired, too, and he dove to the side so he could use the front of the truck for cover. His shot smacked into the tree, but as soon as he could, he fired another shot. And another. He knew from the sound of that one, that it hadn’t hit the tree.

  The gunman dropped forward, collapsing onto the snowy ground.

  One down. One to go. But Royce hoped that he could at least keep one of them alive so he could question the moron and confirm who was behind this assassination attempt.

  Royce shifted his attention to the back of the house where the sounds were still coming from, and he hurried to Tommy. He’d been right about the blood loss.

  Way too much.

  And Royce had to rethink his plan to keep the second one alive. The sooner the gunman was eliminated, the sooner he could get that ambulance on the grounds.

  “I’ll get you some help,” Royce promised Tommy.

  Tommy nodded, and Royce moved away from the injured man to the back of the truck. When he peered around the corner of the house, he immediately spotted the gunman in the doorway of the barn. That meant he was literally dead center of Royce’s house. Worse, the man would see Chet if he came from the main house, and he’d see Royce if he ducked out of cover.

  They needed some kind of diversion, and with the guy’s position, a rock toss wouldn’t get the job done.

  Royce took out his phone and called his father. “I need you to open your front door,” Royce instructed, “and start firing into the ground at the front of the barn. Don’t take any chances and don’t lean out too far.” He didn’t want anyone else shot today.

  “What you thinking of doing?” Chet asked.

  “I need to get from my truck to the left side of the barn and then to the back.” It wasn’t much of a plan, but it would end this situation the fastest.

  “You planning on sneaking up behind this bastard?”

  “Yeah.” The barn had a back entrance, and once he had it open, Royce would have a direct shot at the gunman. “Just keep the gunman turned in your direction until I can get to the side of the barn.”

  “Will do.”

  Within seconds of ending the call, Royce heard the first shot come from his father’s rifle. It slammed into the snow just a few feet in front of the gunman. As expected, the guy whirled in Chet’s direction and returned fire.

  Royce didn’t waste any time. He bolted from the corner of his house and ran toward the barn. He saw when the gunm
an spotted him. The man turned. Fired.

  Just as Royce dove to the side of the barn.

  He quickly got to his feet and started running. He tried to clear his mind and just focus on the task at hand. But that was almost impossible to do. Royce couldn’t forget that Sophie was inside his house, much too close to all this gunfire. She was no doubt terrified and worried about Tommy.

  Sophie would see this as her fault, and he didn’t want her doing anything stupid to try to put an end to it. He damn sure didn’t want her to try to surrender because this gunman clearly wasn’t looking for that. He wanted her dead.

  Royce rounded the corner to the back of the barn, and, staying low, he hurried to the back entrance. The shots came, piercing through the thin wood walls of the barn.

  Out front, he heard his father continue with the shooting diversion, but obviously the gunman had realized that the real danger was coming from behind because that’s where he was aiming now. Royce reached for the door, but he had to drop to the ground when a bullet skimmed across his jacket sleeve.

  “You coward!” Royce heard his father shout. “Show yourself and quit hiding in the barn.”

  Royce groaned because judging from the sound of his father’s voice, Chet was no longer inside the house. He was coming toward the barn where he’d be a sitting duck.

  The gunman’s shots changed, but bullets continued to come at Royce. The gunman must be shooting with a weapon in each hand. That would throw off his aim, but it wouldn’t take much to shoot a man like Chet in the open.

  “It’s me that you want!” Sophie shouted.

  This time Royce didn’t just groan, he cursed a blue streak. He’d told her to stay put, but she hadn’t listened any better than his father. Sophie was out of the house.

  And right in the middle of this hellish mess.

  Because he couldn’t risk either Sophie or his father being killed, Royce threw open the barn door. He came in low but ready to fire.

  But that wasn’t necessary.

  The gunman volleyed glances between Royce and the front of the barn, and Royce saw the look in the man’s eyes.

  Surrender.

  He dropped both guns on the ground and lifted his hands in the air. “Don’t shoot,” the gunman said. “Let me talk to my lawyer first, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  Chapter Ten

  “You shouldn’t have come out of the house,” Royce said to Sophie again. “I told you to stay inside.”

  “I’m okay,” she reminded him again. “And so is your father. You, too. It all worked out.”

  Well, except for Tommy, but according to the medic who’d taken him away in the ambulance, his injuries didn’t appear to be life threatening. Sophie was more than thankful for that since Tommy had been shot trying to protect her.

  “It worked out because we got lucky,” Royce snapped. “Same for you,” he snarled to his father who was in the backseat of the SUV where he was guarding the handcuffed gunman they were driving to the sheriff’s office.

  Clearly, she’d upset Royce by going into the yard, but there was no way she could have stayed tucked safely inside while he took all the risks. Sophie would have reminded him of that, again, if his phone hadn’t buzzed, something it had been doing nearly the entire trip from the ranch and into town.

  It wasn’t a pleasant drive.

  The snow had started to fall again, making the roads slick, and they were literally inches from the man who’d tried to kill them.

  She listened to the phone conversation to see if it was an update about Tommy, but apparently it was about the gunman’s body the police would have to retrieve from the ranch. It was necessary since that shooting would involve reports and such, but she figured Royce’s mind was racing too much to deal with the details.

  Hers certainly was.

  Chet, however, seemed to have his attention honed in on the man next to him.

  “I want the name of the dirtbag who hired you,” Chet demanded. It wasn’t his first demand. He’d repeated it from the moment Royce had handcuffed the guy and stuffed him into the SUV.

  “I have to see my lawyer first,” the gunman mumbled.

  That only hardened Chet’s glare, and even though Sophie didn’t believe in breaking the law, she almost wished Chet could smack the man around and force him to talk. Especially since his lawyer would almost certainly tell him not to say anything incriminating. Judging from Royce’s stern expression, he felt the same way.

  Royce brought the SUV to a stop in front of the sheriff’s office, and Billy, the deputy, threw open the front door for them. With Chet on one side of the gunman and Royce on the other, they practically dragged him into the building. They made a beeline for the holding cell and dumped him inside. Royce had already called the assailant’s lawyer, so now it was just a matter of waiting.

  Sophie hoped that waiting didn’t include her falling apart.

  Her hands were trembling, and now that the immediate danger had passed, she was reliving every moment of the attack and was painfully aware of just how close Royce had come to dying.

  But it wasn’t just their own dilemma.

  There was the injured ranch hand and the fact that Royce’s truck and house were now riddled with bullet holes. He’d also killed one of their attackers and would mentally have to deal with taking a man’s life. The only saving grace was that the rest of Royce’s family hadn’t been at the ranch to be caught in the middle of the gunfight.

  Both Chet’s and Royce’s phones buzzed at the same time, so while they took their calls, Sophie busied herself by going to the small break room to make a fresh pot of coffee. They probably didn’t need anything to keep them alert, since they were all already on edge, but it gave her restless hands something to do. However, busy hands didn’t do anything to calm her mind.

  The past two days had been a whirl of attacks and interrogations. So much for her to process and come to terms with.

  Too much.

  Despite the aftermath of the danger, there was something else darting through her thoughts. She glanced down at her stomach and wondered if she was pregnant. The timing certainly sucked, but then maybe there was no ideal time for news like this. Either way, she would have to deal with it.

  And unfortunately so would Royce.

  If she wasn’t pregnant, then she’d be able to give Royce a big out. One that he no doubt wanted. He’d already made it clear with the story about his mother that he didn’t want a relationship of convenience. Heck, he might not want to be involved, period. It wasn’t as if there was something between them. Only a possible one-night stand that neither of them could even remember. Hardly the basis for raising a child together.

  Sophie frowned at the disappointment she felt. She certainly hadn’t planned on motherhood until she’d found Mr. Right and had gotten married. She was thirty, and there was plenty of time for marriage and motherhood.

  So why did it suddenly seem as if this baby was exactly what she wanted?

  She pushed that puzzling thought aside, blaming it on adrenaline and the fact she had just come close to dying. She’d been using that excuse a lot lately. But there was no sense being disappointed and worrying about a situation that might not even exist.

  “Jake’s on the way,” she heard Chet relay to Royce when he’d finished his call.

  She glanced up, but instead of Chet, she saw Royce in the doorway of the break room. He had his shoulder propped against the jamb and had followed her gaze to her stomach. Sophie groaned softly. He had enough on his mind without worrying about that.

  “A problem?” he asked.

  “No.” She couldn’t say it quickly enough, and even if there had been something wrong, like queasiness, she wouldn’t have mentioned it to him. “Any news about Tommy?”

  Royce shook his head, pushed himself away from the jamb and walked closer. When he got to her, he took a paper towel from the roll on the small counter and dabbed it to her forehead. Sophie was shocked to see the blood he swip
ed away.

  “Probably a cut from the broken window,” he said, his voice as tight as his expression. He wet the paper towel and wiped it again.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” she insisted, and since there was no mirror, she glanced at her reflection on the glass front of the microwave. Sophie couldn’t see any other injuries.

  “It could have been much worse than a few cuts.” Royce mumbled some profanity and tossed the paper towel into the trash bin. “I should have done a better job keeping you safe.”

  Sophie huffed. “I brought the danger to you. Not the other way around. You did everything humanly possible to keep me alive.”

  Nothing about his expression changed, and he leaned against the counter and stared at her.

  Before his gaze dropped back to her stomach.

  Sophie was afraid this was about to turn into a

  what-if chat so she diffused it. She slipped her arms around Royce and pulled him to her.

  He made a sound, deep within his throat. A sort of rumble that she felt in his chest. He certainly didn’t move away from her, and he even brushed a kiss on her forehead. Not exactly the hot kiss they’d shared at his place, but it still seemed intimate. As if they were so comfortable with each other that a kiss was a given.

  “When we get a name from the gunman,” he said almost in a whisper, “I can make an arrest. Then, we can see about getting that test done.”

  She nodded, causing her face to brush against his mouth. Again, not a kiss, but Sophie felt it deep in her blood. That seemed to be a problem for her whenever she was around Royce. She could always feel him even when he wasn’t actually touching her.

  Sophie heard the bell jangle and knew someone had just entered the sheriff’s office. She stepped away from Royce but not before Chet saw them standing together. That was twice he’d seen them like that. And judging from his sour expression, he didn’t like it any better now than he had the day before.

  “Agent Lott just arrived,” Chet told them.

  Royce drew in a weary breath and walked out ahead of her. Agent Lott was still by the front entrance and was removing his coat and gloves, but his attention zoomed right to Sophie.