His cell phone rang. When he looked at the display, he froze. It was Davis’ number.
Bad things were coming.
* * * * *
Julia watched Cooper eat, secretly amused. Cooper obviously liked good food and he had just as obviously not had too much of it in his life. He thought she was a great cook. She wasn’t bad, but nothing like in Maisie’s league. She took a bite of Maisie’s stuffing and tried not to close her eyes in delight.
She’d been right to come. She needed this. She’d known that Cooper would want to be with her and he needed this, too. A moment out of time.
Cooper needed to let his guard down. He needed a little relaxation. She knew—though he hadn’t said a word—that he was neglecting his work. He was turning himself inside out, trying to keep up the ranch and look after her.
Maybe she should offer to stay out at the ranch with him.
Though the idea would have horrified her only a short while ago, now it held a crazy sort of appeal. She could try her hand at redecorating his Addams family house, have fun rattling around his seven-acre kitchen, watch those beautiful horses being put through their paces.
But most of all, she’d have more time with Cooper. She could imagine them in the evenings, cuddled up around the hearth. There were probably hundreds of fireplaces in his house and they could try making love in front of each one.
Julia put another delicious bite in her mouth, fantasizing about fireplaces and Cooper when she started. “What’s that?” she asked.
Cooper put down his fork and reached into his pants pocket for his cellular phone. His jacket shifted and Julia caught sight of something dull gray and metallic under his armpit. He flipped the phone open and frowned when he looked at the display.
“Cooper.”
He listened, his hand white on the phone. Julia watched with growing dread as he clenched his jaw. His eyes went hard and opaque.
“Cooper,” she said softly. He turned his head to her, but he looked right through her. She could hear the tinny sound of someone talking in the receiver but couldn’t make out any words. Cooper shifted the phone into his left hand and reached across with his right and withdrew a gun from his left side. “Cooper?” she whispered, scared now.
He cut off the connection, his face tight. “Sandy,” he said. His voice was low but the answer came immediately.
“Yo.”
“Mac.”
“Yeah.”
“Bernie.”
“Yeah.”
“Get Chuck.”
“Right, boss.” Sandy disappeared into the swirling darkness. Bernie and Mac took one look at Cooper’s face and came over.
“Bernie.” Cooper didn’t look at up. He was filling the chamber of the gun with bullets he had taken from a jacket pocket. “Get the Springfield and the .38 from the pickup. Make sure you have plenty of ammo.”
“Cooper.” Julia tugged at Cooper’s jacket. Her hand was trembling. “Tell me what’s going on, for God’s sake. What happened? Who was that on the phone?”
Cooper turned to her. “That was Herbert Davis,” he said, his voice flat and cold. “Santana found out where you are twenty-four hours ago. His men are probably already here.”
* * * * *
Everything seemed to happen all at once.
Chuck burst in, shaking the snow off his sheepskin jacket, carrying what looked like an arsenal. Bernie and Mac went out for a moment and came back in carrying several weapons. They both looked grim.
It was all happening so fast. Julia reached out a hand for Cooper, but he was already halfway across the room, talking to Glenn. Julia watched him for a moment, as if he were a stranger. The men had formed a ring around him and he was addressing them in a low voice.
“Sally?” Mary Ferguson’s frightened voice made her turn around. “Sally, what’s going on? What’s all the commotion about?” Mary was white-faced and trembling. Julia put an arm around her. “It’s a long story, Mary, and not a very pleasant one. I’m so sorry you’re caught in the middle of it.” Over Mary’s shoulder Julia could see Maisie come out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She went over immediately to Glenn.
“Sally?” Alice had followed Maisie out of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
Julia turned to Alice. She reached out and patted Alice’s shoulder reassuringly, though she herself felt anything but reassured. “It’s okay, honey.”
“It’s not okay.” Cooper’s deep voice from behind her made her jump. “Alice, there are some men on their way to Simpson. They’re hired killers and they’re out to get…” He hesitated a moment.
“Julia.” She took a deep breath. What was the point of keeping secrets any more? “Alice, my real name isn’t Sally Anderson. It’s Julia. Julia Devaux. And those men are after me.”
“Are they now?” Alice said calmly. “Well, they’re not going to get you. You can take that to the bank and use it as collateral.” Alice looked up at Cooper. “Coop, what do you want us to do?”
Cooper looked around the refurbished café, taking in all the details. His features were pulled tight with tension but his voice was as calm as Alice’s.
I guess Westerners don’t have panic genes
, Julia thought.
“Okay,” Cooper said, “here’s the drill. I want you to lock all the doors and dim the lights. Keep everyone in the center, away from the windows. Clear away all breakables. Anything that’s glass or ceramic or pottery. The last thing we need is people getting cut. I’m leaving Bernie, Sandy and Mac here and—”
“And me.” Glenn stood straight under Cooper’s scrutiny. “I can handle a gun, Coop. You know I can. You can count on me. We’re in this together.”
“Yeah,” Loren echoed.
Cooper just nodded his head. “Right. Get a weapon from Chuck. Post yourself by the back door and Bernie will be by the front door. Sandy and Mac will cover the windows. I don’t expect any trouble here, they’ll be gunning for Julia at her house, but you never know.”
Julia watched as Chuck handed out weapons and Glenn, Bernie, Sandy and Mac took up their stations. Cooper put some objects she didn’t recognize into a leather satchel and then, oddly enough, stuffed in two tea towels he’d taken from the kitchen.
There seemed to be no question that Chuck would be going out with Cooper. Chuck was overweight and over fifty, but Julia knew better than to question his decision. She also knew that Cooper had deliberately left his best men with her.
He’d be facing hired killers essentially alone.
Julia’s throat tightened as she looked around. The women were busy clearing away dishes and shifting tables. The men checked their weapons. No one said anything to her.
It was her problem and everyone could have simply looked after their own skins and let her fend for herself. Cooper would have defended her—after all, she was his woman. Chuck was the law. But Glenn, Loren, Bernie, Sandy, Mac, Beth, Alice, Maisie—it wasn’t their fight, it was hers.
Tears stung behind her eyelids. The people of Simpson were laying their lives on the line for her, without question. Julia felt a touch from behind and whirled to find herself in Cooper’s arms.
She tightened her arms and breathed in Cooper’s scent, pine and leather and man, trying to hold him so hard she could imprint him on her skin. A heavy ball of tears and terror settled in her chest. “Cooper,” she whispered. “Be careful.”
“Yeah.” Cooper peeled her away, holding her at arm’s length. “We’ll be okay.” He searched her face. “How about you?”
Every gutsy movie heroine Julia had ever seen flashed across her mind and she did her best to give Cooper a Greer Garson-Katherine Hepburn-Vivien Leigh smile. “Yeah.” She forced the sound out from a tight throat. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Get out your gun.”
“Oh.” Crazily, Julia had forgotten all about it. She pulled out the deadly little snub-nosed weapon, hefting it in the palm of her hand. Wondering if she’d ever be able to use it.
“Now you remember what I told you about trigger pull.”
“Yes, Cooper.” Julia blinked back tears.
“Present as small a target as you can. Lean your upper body forward. Pull don’t jerk. You have extra rounds?”
Julia pressed her pouch and nodded.
Cooper gave her a brief, fierce kiss and was walking out the door with Chuck before the first hot tear fell.
“Dad?” Matt’s voice cracked on the word. Chuck stopped at the threshold and looked back.
“Yeah, son?”
“I’ll need a weapon, too.”
Julia could see the struggle play itself across Chuck’s face. Surprise. Fear. Pride.
Pride won.
Chuck went to the side table where Bernie had stacked the weapons and picked out a rifle. He clutched it tightly, then walked over to his son.
Julia couldn’t stand it. It was one thing to have Cooper and Chuck and his men defending her. But Matt was a child. “No, Chuck,” she pleaded. “This is my fight. I can’t have a boy getting shot because of—”
Chuck quelled her with a look. “You’re one of us now, Julia, and we look after our own. Matt started learning to shoot when he was six. Taught him myself. I guess I didn’t realize it before, but he’s all grown up now.” Solemnly, Chuck held the weapon out to Matt, and just as solemnly Matt took it. “Look after the women, son,” Chuck said gravely.
Julia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Matt’s face looked suddenly grownup, the crazy haircut and earrings and nose rings a mere mask over features forged by generations of pioneers living in a country where the boys grew into men fast.
“I will, Dad.” Matt’s voice was low and didn’t crack.
Chuck nodded once, then followed Cooper out the door.
As soon as they were gone, a grin split Matt’s face. “Hot damn!” he cried happily as he took up position next to the front window. With one hand he held the gun close to his ear, just like on TV, and with the other he punched the air. “From zero to hero!”
The snow was falling in great gusting sheets of white. Already, a few inches covered the ground, softening footsteps, deadening sounds. Snow could be a deadly foe and Cooper knew he had to make the snow work for him and not against him. The temperature was a few degrees below zero and falling rapidly. He was glad that this wasn’t an outdoor job. He’d risked frostbite before and it wasn’t fun.
Cooper crouched and made his silent way from door to door along Main, followed by an equally silent Chuck. Cooper’s mind was racing. The timeline. The timeline was all-important. Davis had obviously felt guilty as hell that one of his own had betrayed Julia. He had worked hard to give Cooper as accurate a timeline as possible. Cooper reviewed what he knew as he flattened himself against the side wall of Glenn’s hardware store.
S. T. Akers had called on Santana after visiting hours at Furrows Island, citing a medical emergency. No phone calls had been allowed to prisoners on the island until seven this morning, when the records showed Santana placing a call to one of his minions in Boston.
Davis had checked all the flights. Even assuming that a hit team had been assembled and ready to go, the very earliest the killers could have made it to Boise would have been by two this afternoon. All flights out of Logan had been delayed for four hours because of the weather. It was a three hour drive from the Boise airport to Simpson under fair conditions and assuming you knew the road. For men unfamiliar with the territory and in a snowstorm, it would take at least four hours.
Cooper checked his wristwatch under a streetlamp. Five-thirty. He had about half an hour to set things up.
Cooper jerked and cursed when his cell phone went off. Before the second ring, he had it open and had cupped his hand around the receiver. “Cooper.” His voice was low as his eyes scanned Main Street.
“Davis here. We’ve got news on this end.”
Cooper closed his eyes and said a prayer. “Tell me the hunt is over and the dogs have been called off.”
“Sorry.” Davis sounded regretful. “I wish I could. What’s happening over there?”
“I’ve secured Julia. She’s safe, barring a mortar hit on the building she’s in. Now the Sheriff and I proceeding to her house to prepare the welcoming committee.”
“Well, good luck.” Davis’ voice sounded tinny. The snowstorm was dampening the sound. “Tell the bad guys they’d never have collected anyway.”
A pickup turned slowly onto Main, the headlights cutting through the needles of sleeting snow and Cooper tensed until the pickup passed him and he recognized a man whose ranch bordered his. “What the hell does that mean?” he snarled into the phone.
“Santana’s dead.”
“What?” Cooper frowned. Had he heard right? He couldn’t afford to make the slightest mistake. Not with Julia’s life at stake. “Run that one by me again.”
“Santana suffered a massive coronary around three.” Not even the heavy static could hide the rich satisfaction in Davis’ voice. “He was pronounced dead at 1:15 p.m. Eastern Standard. I just heard about it.”
“Could he be faking it?”
“Not unless he’s got a special arrangement with God. Santana’s guts are spread out on an autopsy table right now. The pathologist says he drank too much and his liver is a mess. So—if you catch these guys, it’s all over.”
“Save a piece of Santana’s hide for me,” Cooper growled, “I want to nail it to my wall.” He pressed the “off” button, and put Davis’ news in a far corner of his mind. He had to focus his entire attention on the mission at hand.