Standoff at Mustang Ridge (13 page)

“I’ll get you some help,” Royce promised Tommy.

Tommy nodded, and Royce moved away from the injured man to the back of the truck. When he peered around the corner of the house, he immediately spotted the gunman in the doorway of the barn. That meant he was literally dead center of Royce’s house. Worse, the man would see Chet if he came from the main house, and he’d see Royce if he ducked out of cover.

They needed some kind of diversion, and with the guy’s position, a rock toss wouldn’t get the job done.

Royce took out his phone and called his father. “I need you to open your front door,” Royce instructed, “and start firing into the ground at the front of the barn. Don’t take any chances and don’t lean out too far.” He didn’t want anyone else shot today.

“What you thinking of doing?” Chet asked.

“I need to get from my truck to the left side of the barn and then to the back.” It wasn’t much of a plan, but it would end this situation the fastest.

“You planning on sneaking up behind this bastard?”

“Yeah.” The barn had a back entrance, and once he had it open, Royce would have a direct shot at the gunman. “Just keep the gunman turned in your direction until I can get to the side of the barn.”

“Will do.”

Within seconds of ending the call, Royce heard the first shot come from his father’s rifle. It slammed into the snow just a few feet in front of the gunman. As expected, the guy whirled in Chet’s direction and returned fire.

Royce didn’t waste any time. He bolted from the corner of his house and ran toward the barn. He saw when the gunman spotted him. The man turned. Fired.

Just as Royce dove to the side of the barn.

He quickly got to his feet and started running. He tried to clear his mind and just focus on the task at hand. But that was almost impossible to do. Royce couldn’t forget that Sophie was inside his house, much too close to all this gunfire. She was no doubt terrified and worried about Tommy.

Sophie would see this as her fault, and he didn’t want her doing anything stupid to try to put an end to it. He damn sure didn’t want her to try to surrender because this gunman clearly wasn’t looking for that. He wanted her dead.

Royce rounded the corner to the back of the barn, and, staying low, he hurried to the back entrance. The shots came, piercing through the thin wood walls of the barn.

Out front, he heard his father continue with the shooting diversion, but obviously the gunman had realized that the real danger was coming from behind because that’s where he was aiming now. Royce reached for the door, but he had to drop to the ground when a bullet skimmed across his jacket sleeve.

“You coward!” Royce heard his father shout. “Show yourself and quit hiding in the barn.”

Royce groaned because judging from the sound of his father’s voice, Chet was no longer inside the house. He was coming toward the barn where he’d be a sitting duck.

The gunman’s shots changed, but bullets continued to come at Royce. The gunman must be shooting with a weapon in each hand. That would throw off his aim, but it wouldn’t take much to shoot a man like Chet in the open.

“It’s me that you want!” Sophie shouted.

This time Royce didn’t just groan, he cursed a blue streak. He’d told her to stay put, but she hadn’t listened any better than his father. Sophie was out of the house.

And right in the middle of this hellish mess.

Because he couldn’t risk either Sophie or his father being killed, Royce threw open the barn door. He came in low but ready to fire.

But that wasn’t necessary.

The gunman volleyed glances between Royce and the front of the barn, and Royce saw the look in the man’s eyes.

Surrender.

He dropped both guns on the ground and lifted his hands in the air. “Don’t shoot,” the gunman said. “Let me talk to my lawyer first, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Chapter Ten

“You shouldn’t have come out of the house,” Royce said to Sophie
again
. “I told you to stay inside.”

“I’m okay,” she reminded him
again
. “And so is your father. You, too. It all worked out.”

Well, except for Tommy, but according to the medic who’d taken him away in the ambulance, his injuries didn’t appear to be life threatening. Sophie was more than thankful for that since Tommy had been shot trying to protect her.

“It worked out because we got lucky,” Royce snapped. “Same for you,” he snarled to his father who was in the backseat of the SUV where he was guarding the handcuffed gunman they were driving to the sheriff’s office.

Clearly, she’d upset Royce by going into the yard, but there was no way she could have stayed tucked safely inside while he took all the risks. Sophie would have reminded him of that, again, if his phone hadn’t buzzed, something it had been doing nearly the entire trip from the ranch and into town.

It wasn’t a pleasant drive.

The snow had started to fall again, making the roads slick, and they were literally inches from the man who’d tried to kill them.

She listened to the phone conversation to see if it was an update about Tommy, but apparently it was about the gunman’s body the police would have to retrieve from the ranch. It was necessary since that shooting would involve reports and such, but she figured Royce’s mind was racing too much to deal with the details.

Hers certainly was.

Chet, however, seemed to have his attention honed in on the man next to him.

“I want the name of the dirtbag who hired you,” Chet demanded. It wasn’t his first demand. He’d repeated it from the moment Royce had handcuffed the guy and stuffed him into the SUV.

“I have to see my lawyer first,” the gunman mumbled.

That only hardened Chet’s glare, and even though Sophie didn’t believe in breaking the law, she almost wished Chet could smack the man around and force him to talk. Especially since his lawyer would almost certainly tell him not to say anything incriminating. Judging from Royce’s stern expression, he felt the same way.

Royce brought the SUV to a stop in front of the sheriff’s office, and Billy, the deputy, threw open the front door for them. With Chet on one side of the gunman and Royce on the other, they practically dragged him into the building. They made a beeline for the holding cell and dumped him inside. Royce had already called the assailant’s lawyer, so now it was just a matter of waiting.

Sophie hoped that
waiting
didn’t include her falling apart.

Her hands were trembling, and now that the immediate danger had passed, she was reliving every moment of the attack and was painfully aware of just how close Royce had come to dying.

But it wasn’t just their own dilemma.

There was the injured ranch hand and the fact that Royce’s truck and house were now riddled with bullet holes. He’d also killed one of their attackers and would mentally have to deal with taking a man’s life. The only saving grace was that the rest of Royce’s family hadn’t been at the ranch to be caught in the middle of the gunfight.

Both Chet’s and Royce’s phones buzzed at the same time, so while they took their calls, Sophie busied herself by going to the small break room to make a fresh pot of coffee. They probably didn’t need anything to keep them alert, since they were all already on edge, but it gave her restless hands something to do. However, busy hands didn’t do anything to calm her mind.

The past two days had been a whirl of attacks and interrogations. So much for her to process and come to terms with.

Too much
.

Despite the aftermath of the danger, there was something else darting through her thoughts. She glanced down at her stomach and wondered if she was pregnant. The timing certainly sucked, but then maybe there was no ideal time for news like this. Either way, she would have to deal with it.

And unfortunately so would Royce.

If she wasn’t pregnant, then she’d be able to give Royce a big out. One that he no doubt wanted. He’d already made it clear with the story about his mother that he didn’t want a relationship of convenience. Heck, he might not want to be involved, period. It wasn’t as if there was something between them. Only a possible one-night stand that neither of them could even remember. Hardly the basis for raising a child together.

Sophie frowned at the disappointment she felt. She certainly hadn’t planned on motherhood until she’d found Mr. Right and had gotten married. She was thirty, and there was plenty of time for marriage and motherhood.

So why did it suddenly seem as if this baby was exactly what she wanted?

She pushed that puzzling thought aside, blaming it on adrenaline and the fact she had just come close to dying. She’d been using that excuse a lot lately. But there was no sense being disappointed and worrying about a situation that might not even exist.

“Jake’s on the way,” she heard Chet relay to Royce when he’d finished his call.

She glanced up, but instead of Chet, she saw Royce in the doorway of the break room. He had his shoulder propped against the jamb and had followed her gaze to her stomach. Sophie groaned softly. He had enough on his mind without worrying about
that
.

“A problem?” he asked.

“No.” She couldn’t say it quickly enough, and even if there had been something wrong, like queasiness, she wouldn’t have mentioned it to him. “Any news about Tommy?”

Royce shook his head, pushed himself away from the jamb and walked closer. When he got to her, he took a paper towel from the roll on the small counter and dabbed it to her forehead. Sophie was shocked to see the blood he swiped away.

“Probably a cut from the broken window,” he said, his voice as tight as his expression. He wet the paper towel and wiped it again.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she insisted, and since there was no mirror, she glanced at her reflection on the glass front of the microwave. Sophie couldn’t see any other injuries.

“It could have been much worse than a few cuts.” Royce mumbled some profanity and tossed the paper towel into the trash bin. “I should have done a better job keeping you safe.”

Sophie huffed. “I brought the danger to you. Not the other way around. You did everything humanly possible to keep me alive.”

Nothing about his expression changed, and he leaned against the counter and stared at her.

Before his gaze dropped back to her stomach.

Sophie was afraid this was about to turn into a
what-if chat so she diffused it. She slipped her arms around Royce and pulled him to her.

He made a sound, deep within his throat. A sort of rumble that she felt in his chest. He certainly didn’t move away from her, and he even brushed a kiss on her forehead. Not exactly the hot kiss they’d shared at his place, but it still seemed intimate. As if they were so comfortable with each other that a kiss was a given.

“When we get a name from the gunman,” he said almost in a whisper, “I can make an arrest. Then, we can see about getting that test done.”

She nodded, causing her face to brush against his mouth. Again, not a kiss, but Sophie felt it deep in her blood. That seemed to be a problem for her whenever she was around Royce. She could always feel him even when he wasn’t actually touching her.

Sophie heard the bell jangle and knew someone had just entered the sheriff’s office. She stepped away from Royce but not before Chet saw them standing together. That was twice he’d seen them like that. And judging from his sour expression, he didn’t like it any better now than he had the day before.

“Agent Lott just arrived,” Chet told them.

Royce drew in a weary breath and walked out ahead of her. Agent Lott was still by the front entrance and was removing his coat and gloves, but his attention zoomed right to Sophie.

“I warned you something like this would happen,” Lott snarled.

“It could have happened no matter where I was,” she argued.

Lott’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Not with me, not in my protective custody. I hope you’ll do the right thing now and leave with me.”

Royce walked closer, his boots thudding on the tiled floor. “You pulled Sophie into a dangerous, unauthorized investigation. If you hadn’t done that, she probably wouldn’t have been attacked in the first place.”

Lott snapped back his shoulders. “Who told you it wasn’t authorized?”

“Does it matter?” Royce didn’t wait for an answer. “The only thing that matters is your rogue investigation nearly got Sophie killed.”

“And Royce,” she added. “One of his ranch hands was shot, too.”

“You’re blaming that on me?” Lott huffed. “The danger would be here with or without me because of Travis’s dirty dealings. It doesn’t matter how or why the investigation started, but things have come to light now, and there’ll be arrests.”

“Then make the arrests,” Royce said.

“I can’t.” Lott didn’t seem pleased about that, either. “I needed a specific set of papers to tie Travis to all of this, and Sophie claims she didn’t find them.” Lott’s gaze froze on her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sophie lied.

Maybe it was a guilty conscience, but Lott seemed to see right through the lie. “You’re not helping yourself by hiding them. And you’re not helping your father.”

“What papers?” Royce asked.

Sophie tried not to react, was sure she failed, and gave Royce a look that she hoped he would understand—a silent promise to tell him the truth when Lott wasn’t around.

Or at least the semitruth.

Of course, she’d already mentioned to Royce that she’d found something that wouldn’t paint her father in a good light, so this wasn’t a total surprise. Except that Royce had no idea how important those papers were to Lott’s investigation.

The silence that settled over the room was long and uncomfortable. She prayed that Lott didn’t press for those papers. Prayed, too, that Royce didn’t press her for an immediate explanation.

Lott pushed his thumb against his chest. “I’m in charge of this investigation, and withholding evidence is a crime.”

“A crime,” Royce repeated before she could respond and tell Lott to take a hike for threatening her. “Yeah. There’s been quite a few of those on your watch. So, since you’re in charge, you can tell me who hired that goon in there.” He hitched his thumb in the direction of the holding cell up the hall.