Cowboy Above the Law

by Delores Fossen

  Court was going to make sure that happened.

  “The CSIs are still going through Bobby Joe’s room at the inn,” Egan explained. “But I’ll get a team out to Whitney’s place, too. I’m betting we’ll find some other pieces to this puzzle there.”

  Probably. And one of those pieces might explain the recording they’d found on Bobby Joe’s laptop. Court was betting that Whitney made the recording so that it would look as if Bobby Joe still wanted to go after Rayna.

  He hadn’t.

  Though it did sicken him to think that Bobby Joe had come to town in an attempt to win Rayna back. There’d been no chance of that happening, but Bobby Joe might have turned violent again when Rayna turned him down. No way would Court have allowed the man to get away with something like that.

  “I need to get Hargrove to jail,” Egan went on a moment later. “Ranger Beckett will help me with that. You’re on your way to the hospital now, right, so you can check on Mom?”

  “We are. We’ll be there in about twenty minutes, maybe less. And before Rayna says anything, I probably need a stitch or two. I got grazed by one of the bullets Whitney shot at us.”

  “The cut is deep, and he’s bleeding,” Rayna corrected.

  Egan cursed. “Make sure my knot-headed brother sees a doctor as soon as he gets to the hospital.”

  “Don’t worry, I will,” she answered right before Egan ended the call.

  Since she sounded adamant about doing that, Court figured he wouldn’t be able to delay getting those stitches. That meant he needed to finish up whatever he was going to say to Rayna now, because once they arrived at the hospital, things could get hectic fast.

  “I’m glad you told Whitney you were in love with me,” he said. “And I’m especially glad you meant it. It saved me from asking you how you felt about me.”

  She stared at him, obviously waiting for something, and he was pretty sure what that something was.

  “I’ve cared about you for a long time,” he added and would have said more if she hadn’t interrupted him.

  “Yes, but that stopped when you thought I got away with murder.”

  “No, it never stopped.” He was certain of that. “So, this isn’t exactly love at first sight. It’s me finally coming to my senses and admitting something I should have admitted to you ages ago—that I’m in love with you, too.”

  He’d been so sure she had expected him to say that. Judging from her shocked expression, she hadn’t.

  “Uh, should I pretend I’m not hearing this?” Ian asked.

  “Yes,” Rayna and Court answered in unison.

  Rayna continued to stare at him, and despite everything they’d just been through, she smiled. Then she kissed him. The kiss was a lot hotter and went on a lot longer than it should have, considering that Ian was only a few feet away from them.

  When she pulled back from the kiss, the smile was still on her mouth. “You’re in love with me,” she said as if that were some kind of miracle.

  “Oh, yeah,” he assured her.

  It wasn’t a miracle, either. She was a very easy person to love. Not just for this moment. But forever.

  And that was why Court pulled her right back to him for another kiss.

  * * * * *

  Look for the next book in

  USA TODAY bestselling author

  Delores Fossen’s

  The Lawmen of McCall Canyon miniseries,

  Finger on the Trigger,

  available next month.

  And don’t miss the books in her previous series,

  Blue River Ranch:

  Always a Lawman

  Gunfire on the Ranch

  Lawman from Her Past

  Roughshod Justice

  Available now from Harlequin Intrigue!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Three Courageous Words by Elle James.

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  Three Courageous Words

  by Elle James

  Chapter One

  “R&R is over, team.” Navy SEAL Corpsman Graham “Buck” Buckner clapped his hands together as he walked across the fourth floor of the bombed-out apartment building in Bentiu, South Sudan. “It’s time to do what we do best.”

  “Yeah, Buck.” Diesel lay prone, staring through the sight of his M4A1 rifle with the SOPMOD upgrade. “And what’s that? Lying around in the heat, waiting for something to happen?”

  “Men, we’re here on an important mission.” Buck grinned. “So what if it’s hotter than Hades outside and we haven’t had a breeze in over a week? We’re here to get our man. Let’s do this.”

  “Shut up, Buck,” T-Mac said. “Nothing’s stirred in this godforsaken town since we got here.”

  “That doesn’t mean it won’t. The intel guys said we’d find Koku here. My gut tells me it won’t be long before something happens.”

  “Your gut is telling you that you’re hungry.” Pitbull tossed a packet of meals ready to eat at Buck. “Feed your gut.”

  Buck ducked, letting the MRE packet fall to the floor, unheeded. “Seriously, we’ve been in worse situations where we all almost died. This isn’t that bad.”

  “At least our enemies weren’t boring us to death,” Pitbull said. He pulled a photograph from his pocket and stared down at it. “We could have spent two more days at the All Things Wild Resort, enjoying our last little bit of rest and relaxation.” He sighed. “I wonder if Marly’s packing her apartment in Nairobi right now. I’d like to have been there to help her.”

  Harm snorted. “You’re just afraid she’ll say, What the hell was I thinking, falling for a navy SEAL? She might change her mind and stay in Africa.”

  Pitbull’s lips twisted. “Yeah. I guess I am afraid of that. Why would she give up her life here in Africa to be with me?”

  “Yeah, who’d want to give up a life in Africa?” T-Mac quipped. “It’s such a bowl of cherries, what with pirates, warlords and tribal wars everywhere you turn. Think of the excitement she’ll be missing.”

  “And why wouldn’t she want to be with you?” Diesel asked. “Some women like ugly mugs like yours.”

  “Hey, you found a woman here,” Pitbull reminded him. “And you’re no Mr. GQ yourself.”

  “Ha! Wait until she realizes he snores like a freight train,” Big Jake murmured from his position on the other side of the room, holding a pair of binoculars to his eyes. “You and Diesel are just mad you didn’t get to spend more time with your wom
en—now that you have women.” He glanced back at them. “Get over it. Like Buck said, we have a job to do. Let’s do it.”

  Buck crossed to where Big Jake leaned his elbows on the rubble that had once been a wall. “Anything?” he asked, staring out at the buildings they’d been surveilling since they’d arrived.

  “Not much,” Big Jake said. “Our old man with the mule cart is passing in front of the compound now. You could set the clock by that man. Same time every day.”

  “I’ll take watch for now,” Buck offered.

  “Good. My eyes are crossing.” Big Jake handed the binoculars to Buck. “If you’re not going to eat those MREs, I will.”

  “Knock yourself out.” Buck rubbed a hand over his flat abs. “My belly isn’t over the brisket with au gratin potatoes I had for breakfast.”

  “We tried to warn you about them,” Harm said.

  Buck couldn’t deny it. Harm had told him it would mess him up. His stomach was still burbling four hours later. “Yeah, well, I’ll listen next time.” He lifted the binoculars to his eyes and focused on the structure on the other side of the bombed-out marketplace.

  The intel guys had identified the compound as one that General Ibrahim Koku frequented—a local government facility where he had friends conspiring with him to make life hell for the people of Sudan and South Sudan.

  The general was a defector from the South Sudan Army and the self-appointed leader of the Sudanese People’s Resistance Army, which had been terrorizing South Sudan for the past fourteen months, killing entire populations of villages and conscripting children to be part of his army. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he was also the primary reason US aid wasn’t getting to the starving people in refugee camps in Sudan’s Darfur region, or anywhere else, for that matter. He’d stolen food, medical supplies and even the vehicles transporting them.

  And when US money was being thrown away on aid, the American government sent in their boys to fix it. So, instead of enjoying a full week off for much-needed rest and relaxation, the SEAL team had been called back to duty from their Kenyan safari vacation two days early. And for what? To sit in the heat of the sub-Saharan desert and roast like pigs on a spit.

  They didn’t know when the general would show up, just that their mission was to take him out when he did.

  Buck expanded his view to take in more of the surrounding area. A couple blocks to the south, a crowd of women gathered, growing in number as the woman in the center raised her fist to the sky, probably shouting something. From the distance, Buck couldn’t hear what was being said, but the crowd responded, chanting something he couldn’t understand. As one, the crowd turned and marched down the middle of the street, headed north on the same boulevard where the general’s compound stood.

  In the opposite direction, a number of blocks away, a motorcade of black SUVs sped south, on a collision course with the women staging a protest.

  “Heads up,” Buck said to his teammates. “Things are about to get interesting. Motorcade coming from the north.”

  Diesel shifted his body and weapon. “Got the vehicles in my sights.”

  “And what looks like a riot coming from the south,” Buck added.

  “A riot?” Harm asked and hurried to where Buck stood to see for himself.

  Big Jake, T-Mac and Pitbull took up positions against the crumbling walls.

  “Holy crap, if those women are on a mission to protest our favorite general, they’re going to be slaughtered.”

  “What can we do?” Buck asked.

  “Nothing,” Big Jake said. “We’re not here to stop them from protesting. We’re here to take out Koku.”

  Buck glanced toward the oncoming motorcade. “Yeah, but—”

  “No buts,” Big Jake said. “We’re here to stop Koku’s reign of terror. The end. No side trips to the mall, no flirting with the local girls.”

  Buck lifted the binoculars again and focused on the woman leading the march. Unlike the others, who were dressed in brightly colored head scarves and dresses, the woman’s head was bare. She had dark hair, dark eyes and much lighter skin than the other women marching. And she wore faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt with a red design and black lettering. “Guys, is that woman wearing a Doctors Without Borders T-shirt?” He handed the binoculars to Harm.

  “Damn. She is,” Harm said. “And she’s not Sudanese.”

  “What the hell is she doing?” T-Mac asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to get closer before all hell breaks loose,” Buck said.

  “Stand down, Buck,” Big Jake said.

  “If that woman is American, she’ll be worse than killed,” Buck said. “Let me get close enough to find out. If she’s American, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Big Jake shook his head. “You can’t jeopardize this mission because some do-gooder has decided to march against a murdering terrorist.”

  “I can’t do nothing.” Buck lifted the binoculars again. Something about the woman seemed familiar. Maybe it was the way she walked or flipped her hair back over her shoulder, but whatever it was brought back memories he’d thought long forgotten. “I’ll get her out of the way before the motorcade gets there.”

  Big Jake’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t do anything to make us miss this opportunity to take down Koku.”

  Buck stood and held up his hand as if swearing in court. “I promise.”

  Big Jake jerked his head to the side. “Go. But don’t do anything stupid, and don’t give yourself away. We’ve got your back, but don’t force us to expose our position. There’s too much riding on this mission’s success.”

  Buck pulled on one of the long white robes called a dishdasha, worn by Sudanese men, and settled a white turban on his head as he ran for the stairs leading to the ground. He only had a couple minutes to get to the marching women and decide what to do before the motorcade arrived.

  Keeping to the shadows, he ran along the walls of the bombed-out building between their hideout and the compound. If he were spotted, his white skin would stand out, even though most of it was covered. His tanned face and hands were not nearly dark enough to match the skin of the Sudanese men.

  As he arrived near the street where the women were marching, the motorcade of black vehicles rolled into sight.

  Buck cursed. If he made any kind of move to get out in front of the mob of women, he’d be picked off immediately.

  Instead, he waited in the shadows for the leader of the march to pass. As she neared, a knot formed in his gut next to the one created by the MREs.

  He knew her. Buck knew the woman leading the march. At least, he’d known her back in Chicago, what seemed like a million years ago.

  How in the hell did she get here, half a world away from where he’d first met her?

  Now more than ever, he had to get to her, to pull her out of harm’s way before the motorcade reached them.

  Women in brightly colored clothing passed him, filling the streets, all chanting. Some were carrying signs Buck couldn’t read.

  Ducking low, Buck melted into the crowd, working his way to the front where the woman led the march, yelling loud and clear in that voice he’d recognize anywhere.

  When there were only two people between them, he made his move. He dashed up behind her, spun her around and threw her over his shoulder, then ran back through the women in the crowd. He did it so quickly, the women didn’t realize what was going on until he had her back by the building, in the shadows, yelling at him.

  He shot a glance over his shoulder at the women who’d been marching. They’d stopped shouting and were scattering in all directions as the black vehicles rolled up to the compound.

  “Put me down!” Buck’s captive said. She pounded his back and kicked her legs, squirming so wildly he all but dropped her on her feet.

  As soon as she had her legs under her, she cocked he
r arm and smacked him upside the head.

  She hit him hard enough to make his ears ring.

  With the motorcade so close to where they stood, Buck didn’t have time to explain. He spun her around, her back to his front, clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her deeper in the shadows.

  She fought, kicking, scratching and finally biting his hand so hard she almost drew blood.

  “Damn it, Angela! It’s me,” he whispered. “Graham.”

  * * *

  DR. ANGELA VEGA STILLED. Her pounding heart stopped for a fraction of a second before racing ahead, for an entirely different reason than fear. “Let go of me,” she demanded.

  “Only if you promise not to run,” he said in that deep voice she remembered all too well.

  She hesitated a moment, her pulse pounding, and then said, “I promise.”

  Her captor released her.

  Angela spun to face the man who’d turned her world upside down years ago, while she’d been in medical school. So many questions ran through her head, like what was he doing here? And why was he dressed like a Sudanese man? But she had more immediate issues. “Why did you stop me?” She spun toward the road he’d yanked her off. “I was leading those women in protest. I need to be out there.”

  His lips thinned. “They scattered. You won’t get them back together any time soon.”

  “Damn it, Graham. They need food and medicine. We needed our voices to be heard by the local government officials.”

  “Not there, you don’t.” He gripped her hand in his. “Come on, we have to get out of here, ASAP.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. I work with those women. They need our assistance. Their entire families need help. And the local government is working with Koku, a bastard of a warlord, stealing the aid packages that are supposed to be going to the refugee camps.”

  “And you think a protest is going to make a difference?” Buck shook his head.

  “We had to do something,” Angela said. “The local government wasn’t helping.”

  “I’m not here to argue with you. I’m just telling you that you’re in danger.”

  She jerked her hand free of his and squared off with him, her shoulders back, her chin held high. “We knew that when we started. It was a risk we were all willing to take.”