One Night Standoff (12 page)

Clayton thanked him, but that didn’t ease the suspicions he had about James. After all, the agent had essentially stopped the interview just by showing up. He hadn’t warned Melvin to stay quiet, but that’s exactly what he’d accomplished.

“My advice?” James said, talking to Saul now. “You need to stop Clayton and Lenora from digging into this investigation. God knows who Riggs hired to do his dirty work, but this is no time to have an assassin’s sights on Lenora.”

“I believe his sights are already on me,” Lenora reminded him.

“Then this is the time to lie low. If you won’t do it for yourself, then think of your baby.”

“We have been,” Clayton assured him. And it riled him that James believed
he
was only thinking of Lenora and the baby. “But it seems as if we keep getting the runaround from you. You dole out info only after the fact.”

Every muscle in James’s face went stiff. His mouth tightened. “Are you accusing me of something?”

Clayton lifted his shoulder. “Yeah. I thought it was obvious.”

“If you’ve got something to say, say it,” James insisted.

Clayton obliged. “You’re in debt up to your eyeballs from alimony and child support.”

Clearly, that didn’t please James. “My debts are none of your business.”

“They are if those debts are putting us in danger,” Lenora spoke up.

Clayton wasn’t sure which one of them got the icier glare from James. “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.”

Which, of course, clarified nothing, and there was certainly no dignity in dodging a question that could lead them to the person who wanted them dead.

Lenora moved closer, looked James in the eyes. “Quentin seems to think you have some files from his former business associates. Files that might have something to do with these men who are out to kill us.”

James made a sound of disgust. “And of course Quentin is telling the truth.” He cursed. “The only files I have are the ones you gave me after your investigation, and there’s nothing in them that could put your life at risk. The risk comes from Quentin.” He tipped his head toward the door where Melvin had exited. “Or from that piece of work who just left.”

“We’re keeping an eye on both of them,” Clayton quickly assured him. “But I consider you a person of interest, too. Just like my birth father and Quentin. I think any one of you could be working for Riggs.”

James’s glare became even more intense. “Prove it.” And with that challenge, James walked out.

“You really think he’s dirty?” Lt. Ryland asked.

“Hard to tell, but he’s been keeping secrets.” Like not telling them about his association with the hit man. “Plus, it seemed to me that Melvin shut up awfully fast when he saw James.”

Both Saul and Lenora made sounds of agreement.

“My brother’s FBI,” Ryland said. “I can have him make some calls and ask some questions.”

Clayton wasn’t about to refuse any help. “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

The lieutenant left, and since Lenora already looked exhausted, Clayton made plans to do the same. There was just one problem with that.

Where to go?

The ranch hands were still repairing the bullet damage to the house. Besides, Lenora might not even be able to rest there with the god-awful memories of the attack.

“I need to make arrangements for a safe house,” he let her know, and he scrubbed his hands over his face to give him time to catch his breath.

“You’re making the ranch safe,” she reminded him. “Plus, you know that’s where you need to be, since Kirby won’t leave and go elsewhere.”

No, Kirby wasn’t budging, but he couldn’t let that be a reason for returning. “I have to put your safety first.”

“And you can do that at the ranch.” She huffed, probably because she realized she wasn’t convincing him. “Look, I’m worried about bringing the danger to your family, but I don’t think it’ll go away just because we’re not there.”

She was right about that. No matter where they went, the gunmen would still likely come to the ranch looking for them. If only he could get Kirby to go somewhere with them. Of course, his foster father was known for his pigheadedness.

“Since Kirby’s not giving us a choice, I’d rather be surrounded by marshals I trust. Including you,” she added. “If I’m tucked away at a safe house, the worst could happen there. Another attack. Especially since Quentin and James don’t seem to have any trouble finding us.”

That was true. But he still wasn’t convinced. “A safe house is still our best bet.” He saw the argument in her eyes—that he couldn’t make any place safe enough—but then he saw something else. “You’re not thinking of running anymore.”

Lenora blinked, obviously surprised that he’d picked up on that. “Not thinking of it in the near future,” she corrected.

Well, that was a start, but it wasn’t nearly good enough. Not with the stakes this high. “We need to make the time to talk.”

She blinked, maybe troubled by that. Lenora and he always seemed to be on the same wavelength, so she probably sensed that the talk wouldn’t just be about her safety. Nope. They had some personal stuff to work out.

That didn’t include sex.

All right, maybe it did. But it included a whole lot more, and talking rather than sex was how they had to work things out between them.

Too bad his body was still trying to veto that idea.

“Talk,” she repeated. “Something we can do at the ranch. Let’s face it, Clayton. We don’t have to reinvent a safety net at the ranch. There’s one already in place. And besides, no lawman is going to give us as much backup as your family.”

“You trust them?” he asked, because he was certain that Lenora wasn’t exactly comfortable there.

“If you do, I do,” she confirmed.

Well, he certainly trusted them all right, but that didn’t mean this was the right choice.

On the other hand...

Maybe it was the bone-weary fatigue settling in or the realization that she was right—there was no safe place. But Clayton decided to go home, get some rest and hope that he could come up with a better solution for Lenora’s safety.

He only made it a few steps before his phone buzzed again. With everything that had gone on, the first thing he thought of was Kirby, that maybe there’d been another attack at the ranch. But it was Dr. Cheryl Landry’s name on the screen.

“Clayton?” the doctor said the moment he answered. “The guy you shot is finally out of surgery. We did the best we could, but he’s in critical condition.”

Not the best news he could have gotten, but at least the shooter was alive. That was a start.

“Can I talk to him?” Clayton asked.

“
If
he wakes up,” the doctor clarified. “My advice is to come to the hospital and wait, because, Clayton, when and if he regains consciousness, he’s not going to last long.”

Chapter Thirteen

Lenora had never felt safer—and more vulnerable—in her entire life. She literally had three federal marshals guarding her as they went into the Maverick Springs hospital.

Clayton, Harlan and Declan.

However, with a hired killer still at large, she knew they could be attacked anywhere, anytime.

That included the hospital.

“We won’t stay long,” Clayton reminded her again while he led her inside the building.

He had his phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear and was on hold. That didn’t stop him from making some vigilant glances around the parking lot and the waiting room on the other side of the sliding glass doors. His brothers did the same.

“If this guy doesn’t wake up soon,” Clayton added, “we’ll go back to the ranch and wait.”

That, too, was a risk, because they might not make it back into town fast enough if he did regain consciousness and start talking. They could miss something vital, and all because they were trying to keep her safe.

Something she wasn’t even sure was possible.

Clayton came to a quick halt in the waiting room, and for a moment Lenora thought he’d seen something or someone that might be a threat. But she soon realized he’d stopped because the FBI agent on the other end of the line, Kade Ryland, was giving him some information.

“We got a match on the wounded man’s prints. His name is Peter Lomax,” Clayton said the moment he ended the call, and he got them moving again, past the waiting room and down a wide corridor.

There weren’t a lot of people in this part of the hospital, just medical staff in scrubs, but the marshals looked at each one of them as possible threats.

“Peter Lomax.” Harlan tested the name as if deciding if it meant anything to him. He finally shook his head. “How long of a record does he have?”

“Long,”
Clayton verified. “In and out of jail since he was sixteen. He’s worked for loan sharks and other lowlifes. But the good news is that he often works with his kid brother, Johnny. Agent Ryland’s already put out an APB on the guy.”

Good. They had a likely name for the second man who’d tried to kill them, and maybe the FBI or marshals could find him before he launched another attack. Of course, Riggs or whoever was behind this could just hire someone else.

Not a comforting thought.

It would take some doing, but if Riggs was indeed the culprit, they needed to find a way to cut off his funds so he couldn’t do any more harm.

They hadn’t made it to the surgical waiting area when Lenora spotted a familiar face coming up the hall toward them. Dr. Cheryl Landry.

“Any change in the patient?” Clayton asked. “Is he awake yet?”

“No to both questions. But come this way,” the doctor said to them. “You can wait in my office.”

It wasn’t far, just a few doors down, and with her attention fully on Lenora, Dr. Landry ushered them inside, and then closed the door. “Right before the wounded guy was brought in, I got a call from Special Agent James Britt.”

Clayton and his brothers mumbled, groaned and otherwise showed their disapproval about that.

“About me?” Lenora asked.

The doctor nodded and wearily dropped down into the chair behind her desk. “He was fishing to find out if I thought you were mentally competent or if you’d been brainwashed or something.”

Clayton cursed. “Let me guess—he’s trying to force Lenora into his protective custody, or something along those lines.”

“Sure sounded like it to me,” Dr. Landry verified, “but I told him Lenora was my patient and that I had no intentions of divulging anything about her.”

“Thank you.” Lenora eased into a chair, as well. She was relieved that the doctor hadn’t told James anything, but she felt no relief that James had attempted to do something like this. Of course, if pressed, James would probably say he was just concerned about her.

And that might be the truth.

The problem was it was just too risky to trust him.

Clayton slid his hand around the back of her neck, rubbed gently. “James might not be the person out to get us, but there’s no way I’d let him take you into protective custody.”

She believed him, but Lenora hated that they had another distraction at a time when they were already dealing with too much.

“If he calls back,” Dr. Landry said, “I’ll transfer him to the hospital lawyer. That might get him to back off.”

“Agent Britt could be the one who hired the guy you just operated on,” Clayton warned Dr. Landry. “Be careful around him.”

“I will.” The doctor looked at the position of Clayton’s hand and then Lenora’s stomach. “If you want, I can arrange for you to have an ultrasound. For your own peace of mind,” she quickly added, probably because she saw the alarm in Lenora’s eyes.

Lenora nodded, thanked her again. With everything that’d happened, it might help if she could see her baby. The other checkup the doctor had given her hadn’t included one.

“The nurse will call me if our guy wakes up.” Dr. Landry went to the door, opened it and then froze. That’s because someone was standing there.

Clayton automatically reached for his gun and stepped in front of Lenora. Harlan pulled the doctor behind him, and both he and Declan drew their weapons, as well.

Quentin was in the doorway.

The man laughed nervously and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Jumpy, aren’t you?”

Lenora groaned at the joking tone and the fact he was there at all. “Nearly being killed will make anyone jumpy,” she mumbled, and despite Clayton’s attempts to stop it, she stepped out from behind him.

“What the heck are you doing here?” Lenora demanded.

Quentin lowered his hands, lifted his shoulder. “I just wanted to speak to you.”

Clayton moved in front of her again. “Not going to happen. The last time we spoke to you at the ranch, someone tried to gun us down.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that,” he huffed. “Look, there’s no way I would hire someone to kill Lynnie. I want to save her.”

“Not very convincing,” Clayton fired back.

Since it was clear that Clayton wasn’t going to let her face down Quentin, Lenora peered over his shoulder so she could make eye contact with him. She didn’t want him to miss her glare.

“How’d you know I was here?” she snapped.

“I guessed.” Quentin snapped, too, but some of the anger and tension melted away. “It’s all over town about the man the marshal shot, and I figured he’d come here to check on the guy. Didn’t figure he’d let you out of his sight.”

“I’m not,” Clayton verified. “And that’s your cue to leave.” He moved to shut the door, but Quentin blocked it with his foot.

“Move or you’ll be sorry,” Clayton said.

She didn’t have to see his expression to know that every muscle in his face had turned to iron. She could hear it in his voice.

But Quentin didn’t move. He reached in his pocket, causing all three marshals to train their guns on him.

“It’s just a piece of paper,” Quentin snarled. He stared at Clayton. “If you want proof of who’s trying to kill you, call off your trigger-happy kin.”

Clayton didn’t say a word, and none of them lowered their guns. After several long moments, Quentin cursed, and using just two fingers he extracted a single sheet of paper from his pocket. Maybe because Harlan was the closest one to him, Quentin handed him the paper. However, before Harlan could even read it, the doctor’s phone beeped. She looked down at the screen.

“Our patient is awake,” she said.

And that meant they had to wrap up this conversation—or whatever the heck it was—with Quentin.

“Are these numbers for some kind of account?” Harlan asked, and then he handed the paper to Clayton. Lenora looked as well, but they weren’t familiar.

“One of Riggs’s offshore accounts,” Quentin supplied. “If you do a little digging, I think you’ll see that Riggs had twenty-five thousand dollars transferred the day before those gunmen showed up at the church.”

“How did you get this information?” Harlan asked at the same moment that Clayton asked, “Who received this money?”

“A friend of a friend told me about this,” Quentin said, looking at Harlan first. Then he turned to Clayton. “I can’t prove it, but my guess is your
daddy
was on the receiving end of the money. I haven’t been able to get access to his accounts, but I’m thinking Melvin hid the cash he got from Riggs in his business. Wouldn’t be hard to do.”

Not with an import business, it wouldn’t. All it’d take would be to falsify some orders. Like on silver watches.

“I’ll start looking,” Harlan volunteered, and he took the paper back from Clayton. “Should I take Mr. Helpful here into custody?”

“For what?” Quentin howled. “I’m trying to save your butts.”

Clayton made a yeah-right sound. “Or maybe trying to help yourself by putting the blame on others. Report to the marshals’ office for further questioning. Oh, and if you don’t show up, there’ll be an APB out for your arrest.”

That caused Quentin to curse a blue streak.

“Hate to rush this,” Dr. Landry said, “but this patient might not hang on much longer.”

When the doctor started for the door, Quentin stepped back, probably because Harlan looked ready to knock him to the floor.

“You’re welcome,” Quentin snarled with his trademark sarcasm.

“I’ll thank you if and when this pans out,” Clayton let him know. He took Lenora by the arm and followed the doctor. Harlan and Declan were right behind them, and all of them, including the doctor, kept an eye on Quentin.

“He’s dangerous, too?” Dr. Landry asked.

“Probably.” Unlike Quentin’s, Clayton’s tone was apologetic. “I’ll make sure security has photos of both Quentin and Agent Britt. And I’ll arrange a guard for our shooter.”

“The sheriff’s already sent over a deputy,” the doctor let him know. “You don’t think that’ll be enough?”

“Not in this situation,” Clayton answered.

It hit Lenora then that the shooter was probably in just as much danger as Clayton and she were. After all, if his boss thought he was talking, or might talk to the marshals, then someone would try to eliminate him.

She glanced back at Quentin, who was still in the hall.

“Yeah,” Clayton said, as if he knew what she was thinking. “If Quentin’s still here when we finish talking with this guy, I’ll have Harlan
escort
him to a holding cell at the headquarters.”

Good. Lenora only wished they could hold Quentin indefinitely. Melvin and James, too. That way there’d be no more threat. Well, until Riggs hired someone else.

They wound their way through the maze of halls to the surgical ICU, and there was indeed a deputy outside one of the doors. He had a stocky build and round face. Maybe too young to face down anyone Riggs might send to silence the guy. Clayton was right to add more security.

“Marshals,” the deputy greeted. According to his name tag he was Randy Wells, and he seemed to know Harlan, Declan and Clayton. Of course, since they were all lawmen, they had probably worked some cases together.

The deputy stepped aside so they could enter. She immediately spotted the man in the bed and knew this must be the person who’d tried to kill them, but he no longer seemed a formidable foe. His watery, weak eyes opened, and the moment his gaze landed on Clayton he wiggled his fingers, motioning for him to come closer.

Lenora wasn’t sure she wanted Clayton closer to the man, but she doubted Peter Lomax was in any shape to launch another attack.

“I need a deal.” Lomax’s voice was a gravelly whisper, and each word was a struggle.

“What kind of deal?” Clayton asked.

“For my brother, Johnny.” And that’s all he said for several seconds. Lomax used that time to gather his breath. Or rather, try. He started to wheeze, prompting the doctor to check the machines.

“I have something that’ll be useful to you,” Lomax finally continued. “And I’ll trade it for a lighter sentence for my brother.”

“He took shots at us,” Clayton reminded him.

“He was following my orders.” Lomax pulled in a shallow, ragged breath. “And if you want to know whose orders I was following, then you gotta swear to give Johnny a break.”

Clayton, Harlan and Declan exchanged glances. “All right,” Clayton agreed, though Lenora had no idea if he truly would go through with it.

With his eyes barely open, Lomax studied him as if trying to decide if Clayton was telling the truth. Maybe he had his doubts, too, but if so, he didn’t voice them. Of course, he didn’t have a lot of options here. It was obvious that he was dying, and he might bargain with the devil to get what he wanted.

Lomax finally nodded. “It’s in a wall safe at my sister’s place up in Abilene.” And with that, his eyelids fluttered back down again.

“What’s in the safe?” Clayton asked when Lomax didn’t continue.

“A recording.” Lomax repeated his answer in a soundless mumble.

Clayton moved closer, until he was looming over the man. “What kind of recording?”

One of the machines made a shrill sound. “Everyone out now,” Dr. Landry ordered.

“What recording?” Clayton pressed as they moved out of the room and back into the hall with Deputy Wells. “What recording?”

But Lomax didn’t answer. In fact, he didn’t draw another breath. A nurse pushed them aside and hurried into the room, shutting the door.

“I’ll call the marshals in Abilene and get them started on a search warrant for his sister’s place,” Declan offered. He took out his phone, mumbled some profanity. “No signal in here.” He glanced around as if he might consider leaving, but then shook his head. “It can wait a few minutes until we hear what the doc has to say.”

Those few minutes passed slowly, and all of them kept watch just in case Quentin was still hanging around. No sign of him, though, and the doctor finally opened the door. One look at her face and Lenora knew that Lomax was gone.

Dr. Landry shook her head. “Honestly, I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. I hope you got what you needed from him.”

“Maybe.” Clayton sounded cautiously hopeful.

Lenora knew how he felt. God only knew what was on the recording, but maybe it would indeed give them the name of the person who’d hired Lomax and his brother.