One Night Standoff (9 page)

Chapter Ten

Lenora dropped back down into the chair and shook her head. This was not a complication that Clayton and she needed, especially after the draining conversation they’d just had with Riggs. Of course, there was no good time for her to chat with Quentin.

“Lynnie?” Quentin called out from the other end of the phone line. “I know you’re there, and we have to talk
now.
I wouldn’t have come all the way out here if it wasn’t important.”

She didn’t doubt that, but what was important to Quentin might not be safe for Clayton and her. After all, he was a suspect in the attacks.

Well, he was a suspect thanks to another suspect—James.

Both were men from a past that she hoped wasn’t coming back to haunt her. If so, it would also haunt Clayton, and maybe even his family, in the worst possible way.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked Quentin.

“Wasn’t much of a stretch to figure out that you’d come here to
him.
”

The
him
said it all. It was a mix of anger, jealousy and other emotions that she didn’t want to identify. Dealing with Quentin under the best of circumstances could feel like trying to cool the fuse of a lit powder keg.

“She didn’t come to me,” Clayton fired back. “I found her about thirty minutes before a pair of gunmen did. Now I’m wondering if you set up that attack and if you’re stupid enough to try another one here at the ranch.”

Quentin didn’t answer right away, but Lenora could practically feel his anger soaring. “I wouldn’t hurt Lynnie. Not ever. And besides, you have your cowboy goon holding a gun on me, so there’s zero chance of me living up to your delusions and hurting her.”

“And I’ll keep holdin’ it on him,” Cutter said, “until I hear different from you, Clayton.”

Clayton certainly didn’t tell his ranch hand to put down the gun, which was smart. Because despite Quentin’s claim of not wanting to hurt Lenora, she had no idea what he had in mind. That gun was a layer of security that she didn’t want to remove.

“What’s so important that you have to tell me?” Lenora pressed.

“If you want to find out, you’ll have to see me.” Quentin’s voice wasn’t as smug as Riggs’s, but it was close.

Both Clayton and she groaned, and he held his hand over the phone so that Quentin wouldn’t be able to hear them. “You think he actually has something important?” Clayton asked.

She had to shake her head again. “It’s possible, but it’s just as possible that he’s using this to see me.”

Clayton’s mouth tightened. “Quentin’s still in love with you?”

“He was never in love with me.” That had become obvious once the relationship had gone on for a while. “More like an obsession. He likes to own and control things. Humans included. For some reason, he especially enjoyed controlling me.”

She saw the question in Clayton’s eyes and didn’t make him ask it. “And I was never in love with him. I thought I was. But it didn’t take long for me to discover that he wasn’t the man he was pretending to be.”

That was likely a reminder for Clayton that she’d been guilty of the same thing. Pretending to be in need of protection when she’d been a deep-cover agent. The irony was that she had indeed needed his protection.

Still did.

But she was afraid protection would come at a huge cost. Losing her heart to him, for one thing. And she was certain neither of them was ready for that. Not with this investigation and Clayton’s coming to terms with the baby he’d never planned to have.

“You want to see him?” Clayton asked her.

“I want to question him,” she clarified. “And I want to know if he has anything we can use to figure out who’s trying to kill us.”

Clayton stayed quiet a moment before he moved his hand from the phone. “Cutter, are you alone with our visitor?”

“Nope. Got Deke and Ray here, too.”

“Good,” Clayton mumbled. “Make sure he’s not armed and then take him to the hay barn. We’ll talk with him there.” He ended the call, looked at her. “I don’t want him in the house, and I don’t want to be hanging around outside while we talk.”

Oh, mercy. It hit her then. Quentin might not have come alone. After all, the two gunmen from the church attack hadn’t been found yet, and they could be working for Quentin. He could have brought them here, all under the guise of trying to help her.

Lenora gave a frustrated groan. She wasn’t stupid, so why was her head so foggy? She wanted to blame it on the stress, but she had to stop thinking like that. Because it could get her killed.

Clayton unsnapped the leather strap on his waist holster so that his weapon would be easier to draw. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

She nodded. “I think I have to do it.”

He didn’t argue with that. He hitched his head toward the door, and she followed him out of the ranch office and into the hall, then down the stairs and toward the door that led to the covered back porch.

It was a cloudy day, thank goodness. Maybe that would cut down Clayton’s chances of getting a migraine. He didn’t even put on his sunglasses, but he did look around. No doubt for any signs of the gunmen. However, everything looked normal.

Lenora soon realized why Clayton had chosen the hay barn. It was just a short walk from the back of the house, and in under a minute he had her inside the massive structure. Both the end doors were open, letting in a breeze. Still, it was hot.

“Here are the rules,” he said, looking at her. “You stay behind me, and you don’t take any chances.”

She nodded again and intended to do just as he’d asked. “I just want answers and then for him to leave.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, and glanced down at her stomach. Then her mouth. “I think I’m remembering the night we were together.”

Oh.

Well, she hadn’t expected that, and for some reason it seemed a little, well, embarrassing. Like talking about sex after the fact, and in this case, long after. Months, to be exact.

“What do you remember?” she asked.

“Just a flash of an image here and there.” He reached out, lightly raked his thumb over her chin.

“Naked images?” She winced a little. Definitely a question she should have kept to herself.

“Some, yeah,” he verified. He groaned and stepped back. “It didn’t exactly make for a restful night’s sleep.”

Lenora made a sound of agreement. She’d had a lot of nights like that since she’d met Clayton, and another one the night previous night in the guest room. It hadn’t made it easier for her to know that he was right across the hall.

His gaze came back to her again. No pain this time in all those dark brown swirls of his eyes. “What made you come to my bed that night? Was it just the pain over losing your friend?”

The question threw her for a moment. She opened her mouth to say yes, but then she rethought that. It was the pain that had sent her to his room, but she hadn’t been so blinded by grief that she couldn’t have said no to him.

“It’s complicated,” she settled for saying.

“It always is.” The corner of his mouth lifted just a fraction before he leaned in and touched his lips to hers.

The touch barely qualified as a kiss, but it was a jolting reminder that she shouldn’t just be melting into a relationship with him.

Clayton’s forehead bunched up. Obviously he’d noted the concern on her face, but he didn’t have time to ask her about it. The sound of the approaching vehicle caught their attention, and Clayton moved in front of her as soon as the three men stepped from the truck and walked into the barn.

A man who appeared to be in his late fifties came in first. He wore jeans and a battered cowboy hat. Cutter, no doubt. And he looked as crusty and weathered as he’d sounded on the phone.

Quentin came in next, but it took Lenora a moment to recognize him. She’d never seen him wear anything but one of his pricey suits in public, but he, too, was wearing jeans and boots. Maybe because he’d ridden in on a Harley—yet something else unfamiliar about him. He’d always preferred top-of-the-line sports cars.

The third man who walked into the barn behind Quentin was younger, early twenties, and judging from the way he was dressed, he was probably also a ranch hand. However, like Cutter, he was armed with a Colt.

“I had Deke stay down by the gate,” Cutter explained. “Just in case this fella here had a friend or two follow him.”

That helped steady Lenora’s nerves a little. Until she remembered that hired guns might not use the road. They might try to sneak onto the ranch while Quentin kept them occupied. Clayton must have been thinking the same thing, because he leaned in and assured her, “The other ranch hands are keeping watch.”

“No need for it. I didn’t bring anyone with me,” Quentin insisted.

He stepped around Cutter and likely would have made a beeline for her, but Clayton put his hand over his gun and moved slightly forward. That brought Quentin to a grinding halt, but he still didn’t look at Clayton. Instead, her ex pinned his attention to her. Or at least what he could see of her from over Clayton’s shoulder.

“Lynnie.” Quentin said her name on a rise of breath. Almost as if he was relieved to find her actually there. But the relief or whatever it was quickly faded, and his eyes narrowed. “I know,” he said.

Lenora had to shake her head. Was he talking about the baby? If so, he’d already made it clear that he wasn’t pleased that she was pregnant with another man’s child. But she immediately rethought that. The one thing she was certain of was that Quentin hadn’t loved her, that he’d only used her in his illegal business practices. So maybe he didn’t care whose baby she was carrying.

“You know what, exactly?” Clayton asked for her.

Quentin stabbed his index finger in her direction. “Plenty of things. For one, I know you were working undercover to investigate me.”

Her heart felt as if it dropped to the barn floor. That info was classified. Of course, some people knew—Clayton and James, for instance. But James had assured her that Quentin would never be privy to that.

Because Quentin could be dangerous.

After all, she’d conducted a secret investigation into his illegal business affairs that had ultimately led to his arrest. True, he hadn’t gone to jail, but it had forced him to cooperate with the authorities.

“Don’t bother to deny it,” Quentin went on. “I don’t want to hear another lie come out of your mouth. You worked for the justice department. Sneaking around my company and handing over private files to Agent James Britt. You had no right to do that.”

Lenora knew she should just stay quiet, but that riled her to the core. How dare he put all the blame on her? “I turned over files because you’re a criminal. You were laundering money for drug cartels and anyone else who could make you some fast cash.”

Clayton gave her a warning glance, probably to remind her to say quiet, but she ignored him. “How did you find out about this?” she demanded.

“Well, obviously not through you, that’s for sure.” Quentin cursed, but his expression actually softened a bit. “Lynnie...” And that’s all he said for several moments. “Could we go somewhere private and talk?”

“No,” Clayton said before Quentin got out the last word of his request.

Quentin’s eyes narrowed again. “Why don’t you let Lynnie speak for herself?”

“You’ll get the same answer from me,” she quickly replied. “I don’t trust you, Quentin. You’ve been stalking me. You broke into my house—”

“Not stalking. I was looking for something you stole from me.”

Clayton looked back at her to see if she knew what he was talking about, but she had to shake her head. “Everything I took from your office, I handed over to Agent Britt,” she insisted.

“Not everything. There were files on an offshore oil rig account.”

Lenora had to dig through the memories of her search, and she remembered plenty of other accounts, but nothing to do with offshore oil.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Quentin snapped. “It’s stupid and dangerous to keep those files. People would kill for them.”

His anger was so strong she could practically feel it, and even though he didn’t come closer, suddenly his presence felt a lot more menacing than it had just seconds earlier.

“What people?” Clayton demanded.

“Criminals you don’t want to deal with.” He cursed, and it took Quentin a while to regain his composure. “These men are bad, and Lynnie’s playing with fire by holding on to files they want.”

Fed up with not being able to face him head-on, Lenora stepped out from behind Clayton. “I’m not holding on to anything. I washed my hands of you when I found out you’d involved me in your criminal activities. In fact, I believe you could be the person who’s trying to kill us.”

Quentin’s attention dropped to her stomach. He didn’t seem surprised with the baby bump, but he did look disgusted when his gaze volleyed between her and Clayton. Quentin’s next round of profanity was especially bad. He huffed and put his hands on his hips.

“Oh, I get it now,” Quentin said. “I thought you came to the marshal because you believed he could protect you. But it’s more than that. You’re in love with him.”

“No. We’re not in love. We’re not even together like you think,” she answered, because it was true and she didn’t want Quentin aiming his jealous venom at Clayton.

But she quickly realized it was too late for that. And now Clayton was looking at her, silently asking if she’d forgotten all about that kiss.

She hadn’t.

Not a chance of that.

But letting Quentin see that she did have feelings for Clayton would be like poking a rattlesnake with a stick.

“I don’t want you dead,” Quentin finally answered. But his cold, hard look let them know that feeling didn’t extend to Clayton.

“You said on the phone that you believe I was the target of the shooting at the diner,” Clayton reminded him. His voice was all business now, and like her, he probably just wanted this visit over and done. “Why do you think that?”

Quentin hesitated so long that Lenora wasn’t sure he’d answer. “I don’t think it. I
know
it.”

She looked up at Clayton, to give him a silent reminder that anything coming out of Quentin’s mouth could be a lie, but his gaze was locked to Quentin’s.