One Night Standoff

by Delores Fossen

  A big family and it was getting bigger. The baby would add to that, and it was a reminder that all the marshals on the Blue Creek Ranch might want to be part of not just the baby’s life but her own.

  Not exactly a settling thought.

  She’d spent years being private. Secretive. An out-and-out liar on occasion. Now she was about to be under the same roof with people devoted to upholding the law.

  Clayton pulled to a stop in the circular drive in front of the main house. Lenora was so caught up in looking at the grounds, pastures and sheer size of the place that it took her several seconds to notice the man and woman seated in the white rockers on the porch, which stretched all the way across the front of the house. The woman was in her late fifties or early sixties, with a sturdy build and graying auburn hair. The man was younger, mid-thirties, and he wore a white Stetson, starched white shirt and jeans.

  “What the hell?” Clayton mumbled. Judging from his frown, these were not people he wanted to see.

  “I told him it wasn’t a good time,” the woman said, getting to her feet the moment Clayton and Lenora stepped from the truck. She was frowning until her gaze landed on Lenora—specifically on her stomach—and the frown shifted to a puzzling glance at Clayton.

  “Lenora, this is Stella Doyle, a friend of the family.”

  Clayton’s introduction had some frost to it, but Lenora didn’t think it was aimed at Stella, but rather at the man. When he stood from the rocker, Lenora saw the badge pinned to his chest. Not a marshal—a Texas Ranger.

  “Ranger Griffin Morris,” the man introduced himself. He extended his hand, but Clayton didn’t shake it. “I understand you had some trouble over in Sadler’s Falls. Is the sheriff handling that?”

  “A lot of us are handling that,” Clayton grumbled. “At least we were before I had to stop to talk to you.”

  “He wanted to come in,” Stella explained, her mouth tight, “but I told him it wasn’t a good time, that you two had just got shot at.” Her gaze softened. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” Clayton snarled, and Lenora settled for a nod.

  “He’s got a headache,” Lenora said to no one in particular and she wadded up the wet tissues that she’d held to the back of his neck.

  “Even more reason this isn’t a good time,” Stella mumbled. Obviously, she wasn’t any happier about the Ranger’s presence than Clayton, so that probably meant he wasn’t here about the shooting.

  “Where are Kirby and the others?” Clayton asked Stella. He went up the steps and onto the porch, out of the direct sunlight.

  Stella hitched her thumb toward the door. “Kirby’s in his room, recovering from the radiation treatment he got today. The nurse is with him. Your brothers are all out working on finding those men who shot at you.” She looked at Lenora then. “Kirby has cancer and is bad off. Might not make it, but Ranger Morris here didn’t seem to understand that this isn’t a good time for a visit.”

  Oh, Lenora figured he understood all right, but obviously he had some official reason for being here. A critical reason. Because if he hadn’t, Stella would have probably already managed to send him on his way.

  “I’ll handle this,” Clayton told Stella. “Why don’t you go ahead and take Lenora inside while I talk to the Ranger.”

  Stella aimed a huff at Ranger Morris and motioned for Lenora to follow her. “I’ll be inside in a minute,” Lenora explained to the woman. First, she wanted to make sure this visit had nothing to do with everything else going on, and if it did, she was staying to hear what Morris had to say.

  The Ranger volleyed glances between Clayton and her as if he was checking with Clayton to make sure it was all right for her to be there.

  “You’re here about Jonah Webb,” Clayton said to the Ranger. So, not about the shooting, but Clayton didn’t seem to be shutting her out of the conversation.

  Lenora remembered hearing that the body of a man had been found several months earlier. Jonah Webb. He’d been head of the children’s home where Clayton was raised. It’d been a nightmare of a place, from all accounts, and Webb had been responsible for most of the bad stuff that’d gone on there.

  “I remember reading that Webb’s killer was caught,” she said to the Ranger.

  Morris nodded. “His wife, Sarah, confessed to the crime, but we have a lot of evidence to indicate that she didn’t act alone. She’s not a large woman, and someone would have almost certainly had to help her move the body from the second floor of the building and then bury it.”

  Oh, mercy. Did the Rangers think Clayton had done that? “Did Sarah Webb name an accomplice?”

  He shook his head. “And she’s in a coma. She’s been that way since she was shot three months ago.”

  By Clayton’s foster brother Dallas. Lenora had read all those details, too. Dallas had been forced to shoot the woman when she tried to kill him and his soon-to-be wife, Joelle.

  “I wanted Webb dead,” Clayton volunteered. “But I didn’t help Sarah kill him or dispose of the body. And no one else in my family did, either.”

  Ranger Morris didn’t have a reaction to that and looked at the notepad he pulled from his pocket. “I saw in your medical records from Rocky Creek that you were running a fever the night Webb disappeared.”

  “One hundred two degrees,” Clayton confirmed. “I slept through the night.”

  “So a couple of your brothers said.” Morris drew in a long breath. “I guess you see the problem with that. All of you are each other’s alibis, but we know that Sarah had an accomplice who either lived in the facility or had access to it.”

  “There were plenty of other kids living in that place,” Clayton explained. “I hope you’re looking as hard at them as you are at me and my brothers.”

  “I am.” Morris paused. “And, of course, I’m looking into your father, too.”

  “Kirby had nothing to do with this,” Clayton snapped.

  He glanced at his notes again. “That’s the identical comment I got from all your brothers.”

  “Because it’s not just a comment, it’s the truth.” Clayton didn’t hesitate.

  The Ranger made a sound that could have meant anything. “I have to put this in my report, so I need to know if you saw or heard anything suspicious the night that Webb disappeared.”

  “Nothing.” Again, no hesitation, but this time Clayton opened the door. “I need to get Lenora off her feet,” he added, and it had a definite goodbye tone.

  Ranger Morris looked as if he wanted to demand that the interview continue, but Lenora slid her hand over her stomach. She wasn’t hurting, the baby had even stopped kicking, but she figured it would get Morris to back off.

  It did.

  He tipped his hat. “I’ll be in touch with you soon,” Morris assured him, and he walked off the porch toward a dark blue truck.

  Clayton didn’t waste any time. He got her inside and shut the door, locked it, but he didn’t go far. He stopped and leaned the back of his head against the glass insert on the door.

  “How bad is the headache?” she asked in a whisper. Lenora eased off his Stetson and put it on a peg hook next to the door. “And before you answer, I’d prefer the truth.”

  “I’ve had worse,” he mumbled.

  She was afraid that was indeed the truth, and it was a stark reminder that Clayton wouldn’t be going through this if it wasn’t for her. She was the reason he’d been shot in the first place.

  Lenora pressed the wet tissues against his neck again. This time, the front. “Do the doctors have any idea how much longer you’ll get the headaches?”

  He pulled off his glasses, hooked them on his jeans pocket and met her gaze. “They’re getting farther apart.”

  She stared at him. “Do you do that a lot—dodge questions that you don’t want to answer?”

  He made another of those noncommittal sounds, obviously still not planning to answer. That meant he might be dealing with these for the rest of his life.

  The glass panel on t
he door made this part of the entry light, so Lenora took him by the arm and led him into the dark room on the right. It was a den with brown leather furniture, but thankfully all the blinds were closed on the row of windows on the far wall. Since she doubted that she could convince him to sit, Lenora put him back against the wall and continued to put the wet tissues on his throat.

  “I’m fine,” he mumbled and would have moved away from her if she hadn’t blocked him with her body.

  It didn’t take her long to realize that just wasn’t a good idea. Her breasts landed against his chest, and the close contact gave her another jolting reminder that Clayton was, well, hot. She’d thought it the first time she laid eyes on him, and apparently her body wasn’t about to reverse that opinion now.

  She tried to step back, but this time it was Clayton who did the stopping. He snagged her by the wrist before she could put some distance between them. Lenora was about to tell him it wasn’t a good idea, but then she saw something other than pain in his deep-brown eyes. The heat, yes.

  But maybe more.

  “Do you remember?” she asked. She didn’t clarify—did he remember having sex with her—but Lenora figured they were on the same page here.

  Their bodies seemed to be, anyway.

  The air between them changed. So did the rhythm of her breathing. And even though she tried to level it, Lenora was reasonably sure she was giving off every signal a woman could give to a man to let him know she was interested. Definitely not a good idea, because she needed to get away from Clayton so he wouldn’t be attacked again.

  It was a solid reason to move.

  But she didn’t.

  She huffed, beyond frustrated with herself. And worse. She still didn’t back away when Clayton leaned down, his mouth inching toward hers.

  “This might help me remember.” His warm breath hit against her lips when he spoke.

  And suddenly more than anything, Lenora wanted him to remember. Oh, and she wanted him to kiss her, too. Clayton might not have any memories of their one-night stand, but Lenora was well aware that he could set fires with his mouth.

  He moved in closer. Closer. And she was just a breath away from kissing him again. Too bad she could already feel it and also too bad her body seemed to think this was foreplay, that Clayton would haul her off to bed again.

  That wouldn’t happen.

  Even if she desperately wanted it.

  Her eyelids were already fluttering down, getting ready for that kiss, when Clayton stopped. It took her a moment to realize why. The baby was kicking, and with her body pressed against Clayton’s, he could feel it.

  In that split second of time, the heat went from his eyes, and he slid his hand over her belly. Concern replaced the heat and the pain.

  “Is the baby okay?” he asked.

  It took her a moment to switch gears, and Lenora pushed away the attraction that she shouldn’t be feeling anyway. Especially not a time like this. “She’s fine.”

  Clayton blinked. “She?”

  Lenora shook her head when she realized what he was thinking. “I’ve had ultrasounds, but I was still trying to make up my mind about knowing the sex of the baby. So the tech didn’t tell me.”

  His forehead bunched up again. “You went through the trauma of the shooting when you were...what...just two months pregnant? Are you sure that didn’t harm the baby in some way?”

  “Positive. I had a checkup just last week.”

  That didn’t ease the tension in his face. “And you need another one after what happened today.” He cursed again. “I should have already thought of it. Hell, I should have already taken you to the doctor.”

  Lenora was about to assure him that she would indeed see her doctor as soon as she left the ranch, but Clayton pulled out his phone, scrolled through the numbers and made a call.

  “Dr. Landry,” he said, then paused. “No, it’s not about Kirby. I need you to come out to the ranch, though. To examine someone.” He paused. “A pregnant woman in her second trimester.” Another pause, and he looked at her. “Are you having cramps or anything?”

  “No,” Lenora quickly answered. She wanted to grab the phone and tell the doctor this wasn’t necessary.

  But what if it was?

  Lenora stepped back and tried not to think of the worst-case scenario, but she did anyway. She couldn’t lose this baby. And it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have a doctor check her out while she was making arrangements to leave and go someplace else.

  “Dr. Landry’s on the way,” Clayton relayed to her as soon as he ended the call. “She’s not an obstetrician, but she does deliver some babies as part of her family practice.”

  Before the last word had even left his mouth, Lenora heard the sound of a vehicle pulling to a stop in front of the ranch house. Normally, a sound that ordinary wouldn’t have shot renewed concern through her, but after the day Clayton and she had had, nothing felt normal and safe.

  “You expecting anyone?” she asked.

  “Maybe Ranger Griffin came back for round two.”

  Clayton shoved back on his sunglasses and hurried to the door so he could look out the glass panel. He cursed.

  Lenora hurried to his side, looked out at the visitor who’d just stepped from a black car, and she mumbled some profanity, too. This was not someone she wanted to see at the ranch. Not so soon after the latest attack.

  James Britt, the head of the task force to which she’d once been assigned. Her handler. He was also her top suspect in these murder attempts.

  With his hand over his gun, their suspect was making a beeline for the front door.

  Chapter Seven

  Clayton recognized the tall, dark-haired man walking up the porch steps. They’d met briefly when Clayton had been assigned to protect Lenora and Jill. Of course, at the time he hadn’t known that James was Lenora’s boss.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Lenora insisted, and she might have tried to do just that if Clayton hadn’t caught her by the hand and forced her to stay put.

  No way was he letting her go out there.

  Clayton wasn’t ready for a confrontation with a man who might be working for the killer, Riggs. Not yet, anyway. First he wanted Lenora checked out with the doctor and then moved to someplace safe. But with James on his doorstep, Clayton decided to go ahead and question the man.

  While Lenora stayed inside, that was.

  The doorbell rang, but Clayton ignored it and phoned his brother Harlan. “I got a visitor,” Clayton explained. “Special Agent James Britt. I need a fast background check and let me know ASAP if you see any red flags on this guy.”

  “You think he’s somehow connected to the shooting?” Harlan asked.

  “At a minimum. He could be connected to Riggs.”

  Harlan mumbled some profanity. “I’ll send Wyatt out there to the ranch while I work on this. He’ll get there as fast as he can. I’ll also make sure a few of the ranch hands move closer to the house.”

  Clayton didn’t refuse the backup, but he hoped it wouldn’t be needed.

  “I’ve been looking deeper into Lenora’s background,” Harlan continued. “And before you blast me out of the water for doing that, just hear me out. Something’s not adding up about her, and I want to know what it is.”

  Yeah, it was something, all right. “She has a connection with Agent Britt. She worked for him on the task force that investigated Riggs.” It wasn’t the whole story, not by any means, but it would have to do for now, because the doorbell rang again.

  “How long have you known this about her?” Harlan snapped.

  “Not nearly long enough.” He’d give Harlan more details later, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable talking about her criminal past with his family. That didn’t mean Harlan wouldn’t find it on his own.

  “Wait here,” Clayton told Lenora when he ended the call with Harlan. The doorbell rang yet again, and it was followed by a heavy knock.

  She didn’t listen to him. In fact, Lenora moved in front of
him when he reached to open the door. “I know the right questions to ask him, and it could lead to his arrest. If I talk to him, it could end the danger right here.”

  That was the only thing she could have said that would have made him think twice about letting her in on this impromptu interrogation.

  But Clayton did think twice.

  And after doing that, he still shook his head. Ending the danger right here could put Lenora in the middle of something that he wanted her and the baby to avoid.

  He glanced out again and saw the two ranch hands making their way toward the house. Both were armed with rifles, probably on Harlan’s orders. Good. It might be overkill, but Clayton welcomed it. If Agent Britt was dirty, he likely wouldn’t start any trouble with three guns ready to return that trouble.

  “Stay behind me,” Clayton said to her as a way of compromising. “If anything goes wrong, I want you to get out of the way fast.”

  She didn’t argue, maybe because she knew it was a huge concession that he’d just given her, but she did draw her gun from the back of her jeans. Clayton drew his gun as well, and he opened the door only a few inches, keeping his weapon out of sight but ready.

  “Marshal Caldwell,” James immediately greeted him. He glanced back at the two armed ranch hands, and his scowl deepened.

  “Agent Britt,” Clayton replied in the same crisp tone. “To put it mildly, the timing of your visit is suspicious, so why are you here?”

  Despite the direct question, James didn’t answer right away. His gaze went from Clayton’s sunglasses to the scar on his forehead, and then to Lenora, who was peering over his shoulder.

  “I heard about the APB out for the two thugs who took shots at you,” James finally said. The chilly tone of his voice came through in the equally chilly glance he gave her. Maybe a dismissal. Maybe anger. It was hard to tell. “Also heard the shooting involved a stained-glass restorer, and I figured that could only mean one thing. Lenora. Guess I figured right.”