“We’ll keep looking for a money trail,” Royce continued. “Someone paid him to attack you, and there’ll be a record of it.” Maybe. “Plus, we might catch the second gunman.”
Sophie didn’t look very hopeful about that. With reason. It’d been twenty-four hours since the attack, and the guy could be out of the country by now.
Of course, that was better than the alternative.
That the gunman was nearby and planning to come after them again.
Royce glanced out of the corner of his eye and realized she was studying him. “Something else is wrong,” Sophie concluded.
Bingo. And it was this something else that troubled him more than the other bad news he’d already delivered to her.
“I have a friend in the FBI, Kade Ryland. And I called him yesterday and asked him to quietly look at Lott’s investigation into Travis’s criminal activity.” He paused. “There is no official investigation.”
Sophie blinked. “Maybe it’s classified or something?”
“Ryland has the authority to check for that sort of thing.” He turned so they were facing each other. “In fact, there weren’t even any flags or files on Travis that would have triggered a federal investigation.”
“But Travis was doing illegal stuff,” she quickly pointed out. “I saw the papers for two illegal land deals, and I copied them and gave them to Lott.”
Now here’s where things could get sticky. “Did Lott ever say why he suspected Travis of those deals?”
Sophie hesitated again before she shook her head. “Lott only said that Travis was under investigation and that he was a dangerous man. I think it was the dangerous part that convinced me to get those papers. I sensed something was wrong, that Travis couldn’t be trusted, so I wanted to see what he was up to.”
“And you were maybe looking for a way out of the engagement?” Royce asked.
“That, too.” She groaned softly and stepped away from him. “I knew marrying him would help my father, but I didn’t trust Travis. I wasn’t sure he’d actually pay my father the money if I went through with the marriage.”
And he might not have. The marriage might have been Travis’s way of getting his hands on Sophie’s money. “You were right not to trust him.”
“But maybe wrong to trust Lott,” Sophie finished for him.
There it was in a nutshell. Lott’s unauthorized investigation was bad news number three, but Royce didn’t know just what level of bad it was. Maybe Lott was a dirty agent. Or maybe he had someway found out about Travis’s illegal activity and had bent some big rules to go after him. Either way, the agent had put Sophie in danger, and in Royce’s book, that made Lott bad.
“So what do we do about Lott?” she asked.
“We don’t trust him.” That was the obvious part. The next would take a little time, and during that time, they’d just have to do their best to avoid Lott. “Agent Ryland is going to do some more checking and talk with Lott’s supervisor.”
“Lott won’t like that,” she mumbled.
No. And Royce was sure he’d hear from the agent as soon as he found out that Royce had gone behind his back to get answers about the investigation.
“Good thing I didn’t leave with Lott yesterday when he was here,” Sophie added.
Royce shrugged. “It’s hard to argue with that, but I can see why a peace officer would want to stop a guy like Travis. Hell, I want to beat him to a pulp for hitting you.”
Sophie’s hand went to her cheek, and he could tell she was reliving that particular bad memory. “You were right. I should have filed charges against him for assault.”
“It’s not too late. Maybe we can tack it on to the other charges against him.”
Before the last word left his mouth, his phone rang. Royce put his coffee aside and looked at the screen, bracing himself for more bad news. And maybe it was. Stanton’s name was there, and Royce showed her the screen before he answered the call on Speaker.
“Royce,” Stanton immediately said. “Where’s Sophie? I need to speak to her.”
Royce looked at her to see if she wanted to respond. She huffed softly and moved closer to the phone. “Stanton, is something wrong?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away, and that tightened Royce’s stomach. “I have to tell you some things,” Stanton finally said.
“I’m listening,” Sophie assured him.
“I can’t talk about this over the phone. I need to see you. You need to know what I did.”
The tightening in Royce’s stomach turned to a big knot. “What’d you do, Stanton?” he demanded.
“I’ll tell you when I see Sophie.”
Royce figured that wasn’t the best option here. “It’s not safe for Sophie to be out and about. If you’re worried about someone eavesdropping, then call me back on my landline.”
“No. This has to be done face-to-face. Can you meet me at the sheriff’s office in two hours?”
Royce checked his watch, though time wasn’t the issue. Sophie’s safety was. “You’re positive this is worth risking your sister’s life?”
Stanton cursed. “What I have to tell you might be the reason Sophie’s in danger. So you decide. If it’s worth the risk, be at the sheriff’s office.”
And with that, Stanton hung up.
“Any idea what that’s about?” Royce asked her as he put his phone back in his pocket.
“The pictures, maybe?” Sophie didn’t hesitate, either. “Travis seemed to believe that Stanton had something to do with that.”
Maybe he did. After all, Stanton had been at the Outlaw Bar that night. But Royce couldn’t see how that would be so critical that Stanton had to tell Sophie in person. Maybe it was something more. Something that pertained to the investigation.
Or it could be a trap.
Royce hated to think that, but Sophie’s brother could want her dead so that Eldon and he could inherit all the money. Sophie was worth millions, more than enough to pay off Eldon’s debts and get the Conway ranch back on track. People had killed for a lot less, and if Stanton was as devoted to Eldon as Sophie was, he might be willing to sacrifice his sister for their father.
Yeah. This could definitely be a trap.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to meet him,” Royce let her know.
The surprise flashed through Sophie’s eyes, and she opened her mouth. No doubt to defend Stanton as she’d been doing with her father. But she closed her mouth and stared at him.
“It’s too risky,” she whispered, and it wasn’t exactly a question.
Royce made a sound of agreement. “If it’s as important as Stanton seems to think it is, we’ll make other arrangements to hear what he has to say. A video call, maybe. But I really don’t want you leaving the house and going into town where you could easily be spotted by someone.”
Like the surviving gunman.
She nodded, eased her cup to the table and leaned her head against the window. “I don’t want to believe my brother would harm me.”
Royce understood. “He’s not our primary suspect,” he reminded her.
But Stanton was a suspect.
And Sophie’s heavy sigh let him know that she was well aware of that. Good. At least she was starting to see her brother through a cop’s eyes. Maybe soon she’d do the same for her father. Royce wasn’t convinced there was a solid reason to distrust either Stanton or Eldon, but until he knew who was behind the attack, he didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks.
She turned and eased right into his arms. Royce didn’t back away. Just the opposite. And that caused huge alarms to go off in his head.
He ignored them.
Royce also ignored the lecture he’d been giving himself for the past twenty-four hours—the one that insisted he should avoid getting any
closer to Sophie. Heck, he ignored everything he shouldn’t ignore and brushed a kiss on her forehead.
She groaned softly, probably because she’d been telling herself the same thing—stay away. Run. Don’t get too close. But since she didn’t budge, it was clear her body was having the same stubborn reaction that his was.
“I’ve been trying to avoid this,” she mumbled.
“Yeah. So have I.” He was failing so badly that he might have to give failure a whole new name. Worse, he wanted to fail even harder.
She looked up at him, shook her head. “What are we going to do about this?”
Since the answer on the tip of his tongue was have sex, Royce didn’t say it out loud. Though judging from the heated look she was giving him, maybe it was on the tip of her tongue, too.
He’d never really had a type of woman he preferred. Hair and eye color didn’t matter, and he’d dated both thin and those with curves, but now looking down at Sophie, he knew he’d finally found his type. Maybe it was that tumbled hair. That face. Or those curves hidden in his clothes. Whatever it was, Sophie was it.
Man, he was toast.
Royce fought the urge to kiss her and felt himself losing that battle, too. “When this is over, maybe we can have dinner or something.”
She blinked. “You mean like a date?”
“Exactly like a date.” It seemed like a good place to start, anyway, and it was something he could put off until Sophie was no longer “the job.”
Well. He could put it off if he kept his hands and mouth to himself. That was a big if since she was already in his arms.
“We seem a little past the first-date stage,” she pointed out.
“We are.” Especially after making out at the Outlaw Bar. “But I’m figuring we can backtrack.” It seemed more sensible that going full steam ahead, something his body was encouraging him to do.
Sophie nodded hesitantly. “I’m not your type,” she reminded him. “I’m a city girl, like your mother.”
“Yeah,” he settled for saying. “I didn’t say a date was a good idea.”
And neither was the kiss he pressed on her mouth.
It wasn’t quite the same as having her for breakfast, but it felt like a good start. Even when Royce knew he shouldn’t be starting anything sexual with her.
He pulled back, enjoying the nice little buzz of heat that went through the middle of his body. Royce enjoyed the flash of surprise in her eyes, too. Not from fear or hearing bad news. This was surprise of a sexual nature. Maybe Sophie had gotten a buzz, as well.
“Yes,” she mumbled.
She moved away, nervously sliding her hands down the sides of the pajamas, and the motion stretched the thin fabric over her breasts. No bra. Because he could clearly see the outline of her nipples.
That buzz got stronger.
Royce felt his resolve get weaker. Of course, that always seemed to happen whenever he was around Sophie.
Yeah, she was his type, all right.
Their gazes met again. Held. There was a split second of time when Royce thought he could put a choke hold on the ache burning in his body. That split second came and went. And Royce moved toward her at the same time she moved toward him. It wasn’t slow. Certainly not tentative. They moved like two people who seemed to know exactly what they were doing.
That couldn’t have been further from the truth.
This time, there was no restraint, no holding back. Willpower and common sense vanished, and Royce helped keep those things at bay when he hooked his arm around Sophie’s waist and hauled her to him.
They collided—too crazy from the need to give this make-out session much finesse. But they adjusted, automatically, as if they’d done this so many times that they knew exactly how and where to move. Not a comforting thought.
The kiss was instant and hot. Openmouthed, hungry. It felt as if they were starved for each other and even as the sensations roared through him, a little voice inside Royce’s head kept telling him this was a bad idea.
It was.
But that didn’t stop him from pulling her body against his. He’d been right about that no bra part. Equally right about how she’d feel in his arms with her braless breasts pressed against his chest.
Sophie made a sound. Part moan, part shiver. She sort of melted against him, every part of her seemingly touching every part of him. Well, except one part that was suddenly whining for attention. So Royce did something about that. He dropped his left hand to her bottom, lifting her so that her sex was aligned with his.
Her moan got louder.
Her grip on his back tightened.
And the kiss got deeper and hotter.
Her taste was so familiar, like something he’d had but still wanted. The little voice got quieter, maybe because of the roar in his head now. Also because his body was already moving onto other things.
Like touching her.
Royce slid his hand beneath the loose pajama top and eased his fingers over her right nipple. It was already tight and puckered, ready for him to do a little exploring.
And tasting.
Yeah, he apparently intended to make that particular mistake, too. He shoved up the pajama top and looked at her for a moment. Just to see if she was going to stop this.
She wasn’t.
There was only the welcoming heat in her sizzling blue eyes. Not an ounce of hesitation. And it was Sophie who caught onto the back of his neck and pushed his mouth toward her breast.
The buzz became a full roar.
Sophie’s moan became intense.
Everything did. The need, the pressure from the contact of their bodies. The taste of her in his mouth. Especially that. He hadn’t remembered kissing her breasts before, but maybe he had, because that seemed like familiar territory, too. Of course, with the way they were grinding against each other, maybe he must want it to feel familiar.
While he tongue-kissed her breasts, Sophie didn’t stay put. She pulled him closer and closer, until Royce figured there was only one place left to go. He dropped lower, kissing her stomach. Touching her. And going lower until he kissed her through the flimsy cotton panties.
She mumbled something he didn’t catch, and almost frantically, Sophie grabbed on to his shoulders and pulled him back up to face her. She kissed him again. Also frantic, and she slid her hand between them and over the front of his zipper.
Royce saw stars and damn near lost his breath.
Because Sophie didn’t just touch him, she started to lower his zipper.
That little voice in his head returned with a big, loud vengeance. He could not have sex with her. Not like this when she was so vulnerable. It would be taking advantage of her, and he wouldn’t forgive himself for that.
That thought vanished for a second when she managed to get his zipper down and put her hand in his boxers.
Oh, man.
He was already rock hard, and that only made it worse. Her touch was like lightning and speared through him until every nerve in his body was zinging.
It took every ounce of his willpower to push her hand away, and he had a fleeting thought that maybe it’d been this way that night in the motel. Maybe she’d touched him. Just like this. And maybe he’d touched her, too.
And maybe he hadn’t resisted her.
Considering how they made each other feel, he was beginning to see just how probable that could be.
Royce knew if he didn’t do something fast, then this would go well beyond the touching and kissing stage. They’d land in bed. Or on the floor or kitchen table. The sex would be hot, incredible and mindless.
But not without consequences.
And that’s what he forced himself to remember.
Still, this had to go somewhere because Sophie was trying to get her hands back into his pa
nts. If that happened, there wasn’t enough resolve in the state to make him stop.
Royce turned the tables on her, and he took her wrists, gathering them in his left grip so he could put his right hand in her panties. She was hot, wet and ready, too, and that hardened him to the point of being painful.
“Don’t think,” she mumbled.
Bad advice. Real bad. It was that wet heat talking, and it wasn’t making any more sense than his own heat and need.
Sophie made a sound so perfect, so feminine that it made his erection beg. Royce ignored it, again, and stroked her with his fingers. It was a special kind of torture for him, but Sophie’s reaction was worth any price. Her eyelids fluttered down, half closed. Her mouth slightly opened.
She said his name. “Royce,” she purred.
And she opened herself to him. She tore away from the grip he had on her wrists and latched on to the counter behind her, pushing her hips forward so that his fingers could go deeper, harder and faster.
It didn’t take much so Royce didn’t have to keep up the sweet torture for long. She came in a flash, her body pulsing around his fingers. That didn’t help his erection, either, but Royce forced himself not to put his sex any closer to hers. He just put his arms around her and held her while her breath gutted and her body trembled.
Her eyes opened slowly, and he could still see the heat there. Well, for a few seconds, anyway.
And then the shock came, draining the color from her cheeks.
Her breath stalled, and the heat was quickly replaced with the stark realization of what they’d just done.
“No harm, no foul,” he managed to say. It was stupid. Yeah, there’d been no harm all right, but plenty of foul. He’d had no right to touch Sophie that way.
“Oh, mercy,” she mumbled, and she kept repeating it.
Fixing her clothes, she moved away from him and hurried to the sink to splash some water on her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and the glance she spared him was short and filled with regret.
“It would have been worse if we’d had sex,” Royce assured her. His erection didn’t buy that, but that brainless part of him had no say in this.
Angel of Mercy & Standoff at Mustang Ridge Page 29