One Night Standoff (15 page)

Declan rushed in, and he immediately touched his fingers to Wyatt’s neck. “He’s alive. He’s been stunned or something.”

Definitely not good. It meant someone had gotten close enough to do that. But at least Wyatt was alive. Maybe Kirby and Stella, too.

While Clayton wanted to help Declan check the others, his first priority was Lenora and the baby. If the intruder had done this to Wyatt, Stella and Kirby, then he could have done it to Lenora.

Or worse.

He didn’t let himself think of the
or worse,
but God knew what a stun gun would do to an unborn child. As a minimum, it could cause Lenora to miscarry.

Praying that he wasn’t too late, Clayton hurried toward the stairs. He hadn’t even made it to the first step when he saw something. A blur of motion. Someone dressed in dark clothes. He took aim but didn’t fire, because he couldn’t take the chance that it was Lenora trying to escape.

“Lenora?” he risked calling out to her.

“There’s someone in the house,” she shouted.

She was alive. He thanked God for that, too, but then he heard more movement. Not from the guest room where he’d left Lenora. No. This was much closer. Somewhere at the top of the stairs.

Clayton adjusted his aim and moved closer to the railing before he started up the steps. Shooting would be a huge risk, because bullets could go through the walls and hit Lenora.

That thought had no sooner crossed his mind when the shadowy figure darted out, and Clayton had only a split second to react. He dove to the side.

Just as the shot flew past him.

Chapter Sixteen

The shot was deafening. At first Lenora thought it’d been fired into her room. It took her a moment—one terrifying moment—to realize it’d been fired near the front of the house.

Where Clayton was now.

She opened her mouth to call out to him, to tell him to get down, but Lenora reminded herself that he was a lawman. Well trained in situations just like this. That didn’t help. She could only think about him being hurt.

And that ripped her heart to shreds.

She couldn’t lose him.

Still, if she called out to him, it might only make things worse. It could distract him at the worst possible time.

So far, all the attacks had been aimed at both her and Clayton, and Lenora didn’t believe things would change now. Their attacker was no doubt trying to neutralize Clayton, and then he would come after her.

She had to fight every instinct in her body to save Clayton, but Lenora moved away from the door. Away from the window, too. And she got her gun ready in case she had to fire and defend herself.

Her hands were shaking. Not a little bit, either. She tried to get control of herself. It wouldn’t do Clayton or her any good if she didn’t think like an agent. Of course, the problem with that was she was a pregnant trained agent, and she couldn’t get past the reminder that both her baby and her baby’s father were in danger.

More shots.

They were all still centered near the front of the house. By the staircase, she guessed. Again, much too close to Clayton.

Judging from the rhythm of the shots, it wasn’t just their attacker firing, but also Clayton returning fire. It sickened her to think of him being in the middle of a gunfight, and she prayed at least one of his brothers was there with him for backup.

Even with the deafening sound of the bullets, Lenora heard something else. Something she definitely didn’t want to hear.

The doorknob rattled.

She hoped it was just a vibration from the shots, but then it jerked violently. No vibration. Someone was trying to get inside the bedroom.

“Clayton?” she risked asking. She scurried to the opposite side of the room, just in case the person on the other side was about to send a bullet in the direction of her voice.

“Stay down!” Clayton shouted to her.

It definitely wasn’t him outside the door. Judging from the sound of his warning, he was still near the stairs. And unless the gunman was both shooting at Clayton and trying to get into the room with her, that meant there were two attackers.

At least.

God knew how many men had been sent after them to finish a job that’d been started months ago at the diner.

Another sound shot through the room. Not bullets. But the ring of the house phone. She didn’t dare risk answering it, because it could be a trick to pinpoint her location. After nearly a dozen rings, the phone finally went silent.

There were more gunshots, and someone shouted something that she couldn’t make out. Not Clayton’s voice, but not a stranger’s, either. She thought it might have been Declan. Good. Maybe he was close enough to Clayton to help him put an end to this.

The doorknob rattled again, and Lenora moved to the far corner of the room, near the adjoining bath. There were no windows in there. No way to escape, either, once she was inside, but if the shooter made it through the door, she might be able to lock herself in so she could be in a better position to return fire.

Not that she wanted to do that.

But she wasn’t just going to stand there and let someone gun her down, either.

Another rattle of the doorknob, and she heard the sharp sound of someone kicking at the wood. It took several hard kicks, and the hinges seemed to groan. When they gave way, the door flew against the wall.

The person came inside.

Lenora made a split-second assessment of the person who’d just knocked down the door. It wasn’t Clayton or any of his family. It was someone dressed all in black, wearing a ski mask, and what the clothes and mask didn’t conceal, the dark hallway did. She had no idea who this person was.

But she fired.

Not a kill shot, but she went for his shooting hand.

She missed.

The attacker was already moving to the side before she pulled the trigger, so her shot slammed into the jamb, right where he’d been just moments earlier. The person landed on the floor, out of her line of sight. Which meant she was out of his, too, but that wouldn’t last for long.

“Lenora!” Clayton called out.

The hail of gunfire in the hall became even more fierce. Louder. Practically nonstop. Probably because Clayton was trying to fight his way to her. Lenora prayed he could do that, but she had to take measures of her own just in case one of their attackers managed to hold him at bay.

“I’m okay,” she shouted back to Clayton, but before she even said the second word, Lenora was already on the move. From the corner and into the bath.

It wasn’t a second too soon.

The shot came directly at her, and it put her heart right in her throat. She ducked deeper into the bathroom and tried to pick through the gunfire to try to hear her attacker approaching.

But that wasn’t what she heard.

She heard Clayton cursing through the bursts of gunfire. There was also a lot of movement. Not just in the bedroom, where she figured her attacker was closing in on her. But this movement was coming from the hall. Frantic footsteps. Shouts and more bullets.

Lenora glanced out to see if she could figure out what was going on, but another bullet came right at her. She had no choice but to pull back. Thankfully, the lower half of the wall was covered with a combination of marble and slate, so she ducked down, using it as a bullet-resistant shield.

She didn’t want to fire randomly to keep this guy from advancing. For one thing, the bullet might go through the wall and hit Clayton. And for another, she didn’t want to waste ammo. The Glock that Clayton had given her held fourteen rounds, but she’d already fired once and didn’t have extra bullets. There was no telling how much longer they’d be in a fight for their lives, and she might need those rounds to get them safely out.

“Stay down, Lenora!” Clayton shouted.

The gunman in the bedroom moved closer and fired into the bathroom. Not one shot but four, one right behind the other. They came at her so fast that the only thing Lenora could do was hover against the slate and pray that none of the bullets would slam into her.

But just like that, the shots stopped.

She saw the shooter dart to the other side of the room, deeper into the shadows, and Lenora couldn’t figure out why he’d done that. She levered herself up a little so she’d have a better shot, but the sound of the footsteps had her holding her position.

A moment later, Clayton came bursting into the room.

“Get down!” she yelled when she saw the shooter take aim at him.

Lenora took aim, as well. At the man who was about to kill Clayton.

And she fired.

* * *

C
LAYTON
FIGURED
that bursting into the bedroom would be a huge risk, that he might be shot before he could even try to save Lenora. But he had to try. He couldn’t let whoever was in the room with Lenora hurt her and the baby.

The only part of Lenora that he could see was her hand as it snaked out, but he had no trouble hearing the shot she fired. It blasted through the room.

And it wasn’t the only one.

Their attacker fired, too. The shot came right at Clayton and bashed into the wall just above his head.

Clayton dove to the floor, took aim and fired again. This time the bullet hit the man squarely in the chest, but he didn’t go down. The man staggered back, and just when Clayton took aim to fire a second shot, blinding light stabbed through the room and right into his eyes. Not a normal light, but some kind of strobe light.

The pain was instant and so strong that if he hadn’t already been on the floor, it would have sent him to his knees. He had no choice but to scramble to the side of the bed, away from the light and out of position to fire another shot at their attacker.

“Clayton!” Lenora called out, and he heard her moving around.

“Shoot at me again, Lynnie, and your lover is a dead man,” the guy said.

Despite the searing pain, Clayton immediately recognized his voice.

Quentin.

Along with the pain, anger roared through Clayton. No way was he going to let Quentin get away with this. Of course, Clayton would have felt the same no matter who this man was.

So now they knew who wanted them dead, but knowing who was behind the attacks didn’t help him now. Clayton tried to get control of the pain, but the light continued to come right at him.

“Stay back, Lenora,” Clayton warned her.

He couldn’t see her exact position, but she was somewhere in the bathroom. Clayton didn’t want her to leave cover or try to save him, because Quentin would be able to shoot them both. The man was no doubt going to try to do that anyway, but Clayton didn’t want to make it easier for him.

Clayton blew out several hard breaths, hoping to ease the torture in his head. “I shot you in the chest,” he said to Quentin.

“Yeah, you did. Not too happy about that, because I’ll have a hell of a bruise and it’s burning like crazy.”

Which meant Quentin was wearing Kevlar. Clayton wished he’d gone for a head shot, and if he got a second chance, that’s exactly what he would do.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but don’t expect any help from your hired gun,” Clayton managed to say. “I took out Johnny Lomax. He’s dead at the top of the stairs.”

“I figured as much, or you wouldn’t have made it this far.” If he was concerned about the loss of his hired gun, it didn’t show in Quentin’s voice.

“Lynnie,” Quentin warned again, and this time there was emotion in his voice. Pure, raw anger.

“Please, don’t,” Clayton managed to say to her.

Clayton tried to get closer to her so he could shield her with his body, but Quentin just adjusted the strobe so that the jabs of light came right at Clayton. It was more effective than gunfire in neutralizing him. Worse, the pain was affecting his vision. Everything was a blur. He had to be able to see Quentin so he could take him out.

“Clayton, we got a problem,” he heard Declan shout out. “A big one.”

That was
not
what Clayton wanted to hear. Before he’d barreled into the guest room to try to save Lenora, he had left Declan standing guard in the entry at the bottom of the stairs. With the security system off, Clayton hadn’t wanted anyone else to sneak in. Cutter was with Stella, Kirby and Wyatt while they regained consciousness from what was probably a stun gun attack. Clayton prayed that Quentin hadn’t sent a henchman to hurt any of them, but obviously something had gone wrong.

“Go ahead, Marshal. Tell Clayton what the problem is,” Quentin called out to Declan, and he sounded very pleased with himself. “I think your brother will want to hear just what kind of
help
I brought with me.”

Quentin was actually enjoying this, and Clayton wished he could beat the man to a pulp for being so cavalier about putting so many lives in danger.

“With all the gunfire, I didn’t hear them come in until it was too late,” Declan said. Unlike Quentin, there was nothing but concern in his brother’s voice. “Three men. One is holding a gun on me, and the other has a gun aimed at the ceiling.”

“Not just any ordinary gun, either,” Quentin volunteered. “It’s a high-powered automatic loaded with armor-piercing bullets.”

From the sound of it, Clayton figured it was a machine gun. Definitely not something he wanted in the mix of this battle with Quentin.

“Oh, and the triggerman doesn’t have it aimed at just any ceiling,” Quentin added. “He has it pointed right at the bathroom floor where Lenora is standing.”

Hell. And with armor-piercing bullets, the shots would tear through the floor and hit her.

Lenora shifted her position, obviously getting ready to move.

“I wouldn’t advise that, Lynnie,” Quentin told her. “My triggerman and I are wearing communicators, so he can hear every word I say. And here’s what I’m telling him. If he hears another shot or any kind of movement, he’s to start firing. You’d be dead before you could draw your next breath.”

Chapter Seventeen

Lenora froze. She glanced down at the floor where she was standing. It wasn’t hard for her to picture Quentin’s lackey beneath her, his gun ready to blow her to bits.

She wanted to curse Quentin and put an end to this, but she couldn’t risk firing a shot, because it could get both Clayton and her killed. Especially since that blasted light had essentially disarmed Clayton. God knew how much pain he was in, and all because of Quentin.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked Quentin. But she didn’t really care why. She just wanted to figure out a way to get Clayton and his family out of this.

“I thought that was obvious. Revenge. No way could I let you get away with what you did to me. Spying on me. Giving that SOB Agent Britt all the dirty little details of my life.”

Quentin adjusted the light, and even though she couldn’t see Clayton, she supposed Quentin was doing that to torment him. Without the gunfire, Lenora could hear Clayton’s muffled sounds of pain.

“What I did to you?” she repeated. “You were breaking the law, and you were using me to do it.”

“You knew exactly what you were doing,” Quentin fired back.

But she hadn’t known about the criminal activity until James had shown up at her home and told her. Of course, in Quentin’s crazed mind, maybe blaming her was what he needed to do to justify his own guilt.

“Okay, here’s how this is going to work,” Quentin continued. He also continued slashing that light at Clayton. “You’re both going to put down your weapons. Carefully, and keeping your hands where I can see them. And then Lynnie’s going to step out and come with me.”

Oh, God. He was planning to kidnap her. Or maybe that was just a ruse to get her to leave cover. Quentin could just shoot and kill her first chance he got.

“Oh, and if you don’t drop your guns,” he went on, “then my second and third triggermen have orders to shoot. He’ll start with your brother by the stairs and then move on to the others in the back bedroom.”

Clayton didn’t respond to that right away, but she heard him take several more of those forced breaths. “Declan, where’s Wyatt, Cutter and the others?”

“Can’t tell, but I’m guessing they’re being held at gunpoint.” Declan paused. “But Harlan, Dallas and Slade are on the way.”

Lenora had no idea if that last part was true. She prayed it was. They could definitely use the backup from three marshals, but the question was—if Declan had managed to contact his brothers and inform them of the attack, would they arrive in time?

“Put your guns on the floor,” Quentin ordered again. “You first, Lynnie.”

She didn’t rush to do that. Instead, she leaned out just a little so she could take in the entire room. Well, what she could see of it, anyway. The strobe light was blaring on Clayton, who was trying to shield his eyes from it, but it also made the rest of the room—including where Quentin was standing—hard to decipher.

“How did you get inside the house?” Lenora asked Quentin. She wanted him talking so she could try to figure out what to do.

He made a sound to indicate that was obvious. “It’s easier to keep track of everyone when one of my men has infrared. We knew when to sneak into the pasture and let out the horses. To create a distraction. Like what you’re trying to do to me now. Put your gun on the floor.”

The anger in Quentin’s voice went up a significant notch. He obviously wasn’t going to fall for her tricks. Still, surrendering her weapon was a huge risk. No way for her to return fire if she did that.

“Do as he says,” Clayton told her.

Even though she couldn’t see Clayton’s face, she knew he wouldn’t want her to give Quentin’s triggerman a reason to start firing. So Lenora stepped in the doorway of the bathroom and stooped so she could put the gun on the floor.

“Kick it across the floor, away from your lover,” Quentin instructed.

It was the second time Quentin had referred to Clayton as her lover. Maybe because he knew that Clayton was her baby’s father. Or maybe there was another reason.

A sickening one.

It was possible that Quentin had used the infrared he mentioned to watch them have sex. Of course, he wouldn’t have been able to actually see them with the infrared, but Quentin could have figured it out. She hated that he had violated her in so many ways.

Lenora pinned her attention to Quentin and gave her gun a kick. It landed by the edge of the bed. Out of her reach, but Clayton might still be able to dive for it.

“Good girl,” Quentin said in that mocking tone. “Now, Clayton, it’s your turn. Put your gun on the floor and shove it toward me.”

Clayton leaned forward, but he didn’t let go of his gun. “What are you going to do with Lenora?”

“I’m surprised you’d want to hear all the dirty little details.” Quentin didn’t wait for Clayton to respond. “In a nutshell, I’m going to make her pay for what she did. And I need time and privacy for that.”

It turned her stomach to think of what Quentin wanted to do to her. She wanted to fight back now, but it was too big a risk to take with the gunman below her. Maybe once they were out of the room she’d have a better chance of escaping, because there was no way she could leave the ranch with this man who wanted to torture her.

Quentin cursed. “Must I keep repeating myself? Put your gun on the floor.”

Clayton moved again. Just a little. Clearly, he was trying to stall, so Lenora helped him out by asking Quentin another question. She didn’t care what the answer was, but she wanted to buy Clayton some time.

“Why would you possibly work for a man like Riggs?”

“I’m not,” Quentin quickly denied. “In fact, Riggs refused to fund this little adventure. Thought it was a setup of some kind.”

If their lives weren’t on the line, it would have been a relief to hear that, but it didn’t lessen the danger to know that Jill’s killer wasn’t involved.

“All that bank account info I gave you was just to muddy the waters,” Quentin continued. “The gun, Clayton.”

Clayton moved again and put his gun on the floor, but he didn’t pull back his hand.

“So if it’s me you want,” Lenora said in a voice loud enough that hopefully Quentin would look at her, “then let Clayton and his family go.”

“Impossible. You’re carrying his family. No way can I leave Clayton alive.”

“He’s right,” Clayton confirmed. “I’d come after him, and I’d find him. And kill him.”

Lenora cringed. Clayton was throwing down a gauntlet, and she didn’t miss the sound of outrage that Quentin made.

“Get your hand off that gun,” he told Clayton, “or Lenora dies right now.”

Clayton cursed. But he drew back his hand, and in the same motion he kicked the gun toward the foot of the bed. She prayed he had a backup weapon and that he’d be able to get to it if it came down to it.

“Good,” Quentin said, but there was no real praise in his voice.

Quentin turned toward Lenora. “Come here, Lynnie.” Because of the light, she still couldn’t see his face, but she had no doubt that his attention held firmly on her.

“Do as he says,” Clayton instructed.

When Lenora stepped out, she saw Clayton’s hand move toward his boots, where he hopefully had some kind of backup weapon.

“Come closer,” Quentin ordered.

Lenora did, and she tried to position her body in between the two men so that Quentin wouldn’t be able to see what Clayton was doing. But that didn’t last long, because the moment she was within Quentin’s reach, he tossed the strobe light aside and grabbed her, slinging her in front of him.

Just the touch of his hand on her had her skin crawling, but at least the light was no longer stabbing into Clayton’s eyes. Now that she could see Clayton’s face, she could see the agony. He was in horrible pain, maybe too much to stop Quentin. And there was something else very bad about the new position. She was literally shielding Quentin, so that even if Clayton could return fire, he wouldn’t have a clean shot.

Well, not until they moved.

And according to Quentin, he intended to move her, to take her elsewhere so he could punish her. For that to happen, they would have to walk out of the room, and maybe that’s when Clayton could help her stop this.

“Here’s how this is going to work.” Quentin put his mouth right against her ear when he spoke, but he didn’t whisper. He kept his voice loud enough for Clayton to hear. “I’m giving you a huge gift. An opportunity to keep your baby alive.”

Lenora hated to latch on to the hope that Quentin was telling the truth, but she desperately wanted it to be true. “How?” she asked. And despite the pain, Clayton looked as skeptical as she felt.

“Easy,” Quentin answered. “If you do just one little thing, I’ll take you someplace safe, where you can finish your pregnancy and deliver the baby. I’ll even have the kid sent back to Blue Creek Ranch, so he can grow up to be a cowboy like his daddy.”

Quentin hadn’t said a word about keeping her alive, but at the moment she was willing to do whatever it took for her baby’s safety.

“What’s the one little thing?” And she held her breath, waiting for an answer that she was certain she didn’t want to hear.

Quentin took her hand and wrapped her fingers around his gun. “Easy. Kill Clayton and your baby lives.”

* * *

H
ELL
. W
HAT
KIND
of sick game was Quentin playing now?

He was putting Lenora in an impossible situation. One no doubt meant to punish her. If Clayton had thought for one second that his death would allow Lenora and the baby to live, he would trade his life for theirs.

But he didn’t trust Quentin.

No.

If Lenora went through with the shooting, then Quentin would only turn that gun on her or else kill her after he’d tortured her. To stop that from happening, Clayton needed a plan.

But what?

If the pain would stop roaring in his head, he might be able to come up with one. Unfortunately, that strobe light had done a real number on him, but he tried to force himself to think through the pain.

He was sure his other brothers were on the way from Maverick Springs. His cell phone had buzzed several times in the past fifteen minutes, and even though he hadn’t risked looking at the screen, Clayton figured it was either Harlan, Dallas or Slade. One of them had probably tried to call the house phone, too, and when they hadn’t gotten an answer, they would have driven out.

Hopefully Quentin didn’t have other gunmen stashed outside to ambush them.

“Shoot him, Lynnie,” Quentin demanded. He forced her to move forward, toward the door and the hall. No doubt where he was planning to escape.

Lenora shook her head, and even through the pain, he could see the tears shimmering in her eyes. “Give me another option,” she demanded right back.

Quentin laughed, but there was no humor in his tone. “You always were difficult. I would have killed you sooner, you know, but I couldn’t find you when you went into hiding after Jill’s murder.”

That put a new height on the hatred Clayton felt for this piece of slime.

“If you’d wanted me dead, you could have just waited at my house, the one you vandalized,” Lenora reminded him. “But I don’t think you wanted to kill me. I think you wanted to torment me.” Despite the tears, her voice was surprisingly strong.

Clayton wasn’t sure that was a good idea.

He didn’t want Lenora to do anything to provoke Quentin more. The man was obviously operating on a short fuse. So all Clayton needed was some kind of distraction. Just a few seconds, so he could draw the Smith & Wesson from his boot holster and blast Quentin to smithereens. Of course, for that to happen, he’d first have to get Lenora out of the way.

“Guilty,” Quentin agreed. “I do love tormenting you.” And with his gaze now fixed on Clayton, Quentin kissed Lenora on the cheek. “Wish I could drag this out a little bit longer, but I figure Clayton has reinforcements on the way, and you and I need to leave before they get to the house.”

Quentin shoved her forward again. Closer to the door. And he lifted Lenora’s hand, pointing the gun right at Clayton. “Put your finger on the trigger.”

“No.” And she tried to shove the gun away.

“Either put your finger on the trigger,” Quentin warned, “or Clayton will get the pleasure of seeing me kill you where you stand.”

It was the first thing Quentin had said tonight that Clayton believed. He would kill Lenora, and with the way their bodies were positioned, Clayton wouldn’t have the shot to stop the man.

“Lenora?” Clayton called out. Just as he’d hoped, she quit struggling. He didn’t want the gun to go off accidentally, because it could still kill her.

Her gaze came to his again, and she seemed to be waiting for him to give her some kind of signal. He wanted her to move out of the way, but he didn’t see how she could safely do that. After all, Quentin had her hand clamped around the gun.

“Do you still want to marry me?” she asked. “If so, my answer is yes.”

Clayton didn’t know who was more stunned—Quentin or him. The timing certainly sucked, but Clayton thought the sucky timing was exactly what Lenora wanted. It was such a simple thing. Just a couple of sentences, but she must have known it would send Quentin into a jealous rage.

And it did, all right.

Quentin made a feral sound, and he latched on to Lenora’s arm so hard that Clayton was sure that he was about to kill her on the spot.

But Lenora made her own sound—a loud screech, and she tore herself from Quentin’s grip and dove toward the bed.

Just as the blast echoed through the room.

* * *

L
ENORA
INSTINCTIVELY
PUT
her hands over her stomach to try to protect the baby, and she tried to scramble across the bed and to the floor.

She failed.

The shot came anyway, before she could protect herself. And she braced herself for the feel of the bullet slamming into her body.

That didn’t happen, either.

Instead, the bullet went in Clayton’s direction. Into the floor where he’d been only seconds before she’d started this whole distraction thing to get her away from Quentin. It’d been a gamble. A huge one. And she was counting heavily on Clayton having some other weapon. If not, well, they were both about to die.