Standoff at Mustang Ridge (22 page)

She heard the movement. The scuffle. And she prayed that Royce hadn’t been hit, that he was able to fight off the other gunman. But Royce was already hurt.

Maybe worse.

The thought of that broke her heart into a million little pieces. Royce had done so much to keep her safe, and here he was risking everything for her. That only made Sophie fight harder.

Lott fought harder, too. Probably because he knew if he didn’t stop her and Royce that he’d spend the rest of his life in jail. Not a good outcome for a federal agent. He pinned her legs to the ground. Her body, as well. And he punched her in the jaw with his left hand.

The pain shot through her, and Sophie could have sworn she saw stars.

Somehow, despite the pain, she managed to hang on to Lott’s wrist, and she clamped on the back of his hand with her teeth. Lott howled in pain and tried to bash her away from him.

Even over the roaring in her ears, Sophie heard Royce. He was cursing, too. And then she heard something she didn’t want to hear.

A cracking sound.

And someone yelled in pain.

Because the adrenaline and the pain were pumping through her, it took her several moments to figure out that it wasn’t Royce who had yelled but the other gunman.

She looked past Lott, not easy to do with him trying to wrestle his shooting hand away from her, and she saw Royce coming directly toward them. He had his gun in his hand, and in addition to his shoulder, his head was bleeding.

“Stay back!” Lott yelled.

Until he said that, Sophie hadn’t known that Lott had seen Royce, too. But he had. Lott bashed her in the face again, and when her head flopped back, he snapped his left arm around her and dragged them to a standing position. Even though she kept hold of his wrist, that didn’t stop Lott from twisting the gun until it was pointed at Royce.

“If you keep struggling, Sophie,” Lott said. “Royce dies here and now.”

Lott left no room for doubt in his voice, so Sophie’s grip melted off his wrist.

Now that she was facing Royce, she had no trouble seeing all the nicks and cuts on his face—no doubt from the fight with the gunman. She hadn’t heard a shot, so Royce had probably knocked the guy unconscious. That was good except for the fact that Lott still controlled the situation. As long as he had Royce in the crosshairs of his gun, she couldn’t do anything to risk him shooting.

Royce was just a few feet in front of them.

There was no way Lott could miss.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Royce said. He kept his gun aimed at Lott, but she doubted he had a clean shot because she was literally in his line of fire.

“It does,” Lott argued. He tightened his grip on Sophie and started to back away. He was trying to escape with her.

No!

That couldn’t happen. She might be able to stall him for a little while, but eventually he’d kill her. Of course, her more immediate concern was for Royce.

He followed Lott and her.

“You’ll get some jail time,” Royce tried again. “And with a good lawyer, maybe not even much of that.”

She felt Lott shake his head. “Travis is dead. I killed him, but I haven’t had time to set up the evidence to frame you.”

“Travis is dead?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah. He was blackmailing me about that land deal. Not a good idea.”

That robbed her of her breath. Not because Sophie cared for Travis. No, he was scum. But it meant Lott was a killer now. First-degree murder, and he would no doubt do anything to make sure he wasn’t arrested for something that would get him the death penalty. It let her know just how desperate, and dangerous, this man was.

“Hard to set me up for a murder when I’m dead,” Royce reminded him.

“Hard, yes, but it’s doable,” Lott argued. “When those two men regain consciousness, they’ll clean up the mess and plant your body where it needs to be. It’ll look as if you got into a gunfight with Travis.”

Royce shook his head. “If Travis is already dead, that’ll be a tough sell. A good CSI will be able to determine that the times of death don’t match.”

“Yeah, if it weren’t for this cold weather.”

God, that was probably true. Besides, as a federal agent, Lott knew how to stage the evidence. That’s why Sophie had to do something.

But what?

She’d already lost one scuffle with Lott, and while Royce was still armed, he was hurt and didn’t look too steady on his feet. And then Sophie saw something that made their situation go from bad to worse.

One of the gunmen on the ground groaned and stirred. It wouldn’t be long before he got up, ready to help his boss commit another murder or two.

“Plus, you have other loose ends,” Royce said. He, too, was keeping an eye on those men. “That confidential informant you told us about. What if he gets scared and tells all?”

“He won’t know to tell,” Lott answered. “Because he didn’t know he was an informant. It was Stanton, and I had him followed. That’s how I knew he’d drugged Sophie and you.”

“And I guess it didn’t occur to you to stop him?” Sophie asked.

Lott lifted his shoulder. “Sometimes, those things play out in a man’s favor. I figured if Stanton accidentally killed one of you with a drug overdose, I could blackmail him into doing whatever I wanted—including getting me those papers.”

He was beyond sick. Their lives were nothing to him. And with his two goons stirring and ready to get up, Lott would no doubt unleash them first on Royce.

Then, her.

Sophie didn’t think. Without warning, she dropped down, jerking Lott down with her. They didn’t hit the ground like before, but he wobbled.

Royce dove at them.

He pushed Sophie out of the way and rammed right into Lott. They fell onto the ground, and the fight started instantly. Both of them were jockeying for position and trying to disarm the other.

Sophie hated the thought of Royce being injured further, but she had to do something to stop that gunman who was already trying to sit up. She raced to her gun, scooped it up and pointed it right at him.

“Move and I’ll shoot,” she warned, and it wasn’t a bluff. She would indeed shoot the man rather than let him try to help his boss.

Sophie gathered both of the gunmen’s weapons and tossed them inside the hole in the barn wall. That freed up her hands so that she could keep her own gun aimed and maybe help Royce.

Lott and he were delivering punches. Hard ones. And Sophie nearly screamed when she saw blood fly through the air and land on the snow. Royce already had too many injuries, and God knows what this was doing to his gunshot wound.

It could be killing him.

She stood there, volleying glances between the gunmen and the fight. Trying to decide what to do. Her heart was pounding. Her head racing with the worst thoughts possible.

She couldn’t lose Royce.

Sophie was ready to dive into the fray, but the sound stopped her cold.

A thick blast.

It echoed through the air. Through her. And it made her blood turn to ice.

That’s because someone, either Lott or Royce, had fired the shot.

Her breath vanished, and it took every ounce of her willpower just to stay on her feet. She prayed. Waited. And she saw Royce roll off Lott and to the side. He landed hard on his back on the ground.

She kept her gun pointed at the gunmen, but she ran to him, terrified of what she might see. There was more blood. Too much. And for several horrifying moments, she thought he’d been shot again.

“I’m okay,” Royce said, his breath gusting.

Sophie shook her head, not believing him. He couldn’t be okay, not with all that blood on his jacket.

Royce got to his feet, not easily, but she latched on to his arm and helped him get up. That’s when she realized Lott hadn’t moved. She looked down at the agent and spotted the source of the blood.

On Lott’s chest.

He wasn’t moving, and his eyes were fixed in a blank, dead stare.

“It’s all right,” Royce whispered to her. He took the gun from her, aimed it at the gunmen, and with his left arm he pulled her to him. “It’s all right,” he repeated.

And Sophie was on the verge of believing him.

Until she felt Royce collapse against her.

Chapter Nineteen

Royce tried not to make any sounds of pain or discomfort while the nurse stitched him up. That’s because he knew Sophie was in the exam room next to him, and he didn’t want her to hear anything else today that would add to her already raw nerves.

His nerves were certainly raw, too. Partly because of the attack that could have easily left Sophie and him dead. Also because he was berating himself for falling for the stupid ruse that Lott had created. The dirty agent had said he was going to arrest Sophie’s father because he’d known it would send them racing back to town on the only road they could have used to get to Mustang Ridge.

It had turned out to be a bad mistake.

And it had nearly cost him Sophie.

That in itself was bad enough, but now Royce’s nerves were raw for a different reason. When Dr. Amos Jenkins had taken Sophie into the adjoining room to examine her, Royce had been able to hear them talking. He hadn’t heard exactly what they were saying, but just the sound of Sophie’s murmurings had given Royce some reassurance that even though she was shaken up, she was okay.

But he could no longer hear her.

Royce tried to assure himself that’s because the exam had gone well and there was nothing else for Dr. Jenkins to say to her. However, his thoughts were moving in a different direction, too. That something was wrong. That she’d had an injury that he hadn’t noticed on the way to the hospital. There’d been plenty of chances for that to happen.

“Can you hurry?” he asked the nurse, Alice Wilkins. It wasn’t his first request but his third, and he made it clear he would keep asking until she’d finished.

Maybe that’s why she made a sound of disapproval. “Hold your horses. I’m working as fast as I can.” She added another stitch. “You were lucky.”

Yeah, the doctor and X-ray tech had already said the same thing. The shot to his shoulder had been a through and through. But Royce didn’t feel lucky, and he wouldn’t until he’d made sure that Sophie was okay.

It seemed to take hours, but the nurse finally finished with his shoulder and started in on the cuts on his head. Those would have to wait. He’d used up all the patience he had, and Royce eased the nurse aside, got off the table and headed for the door.

“I’ll be back,” he told her, but that might not be the truth. He’d be back only after he saw Sophie.

Royce bolted out the door and nearly ran smack-dab into his brother. “Whoa,” Jake said, backing up. “In a hurry?”

“Where’s Sophie?” But Royce didn’t wait for an answer. He went to the examining room and threw open the door.

Empty.

“She went to the bathroom,” Jake supplied. “She’s all right.”

Yeah, and Royce might believe that once he saw her for himself.

Jake caught on to him when Royce started down the hall. “Dr. Amos told Sophie and me that you were okay, that your injuries weren’t too bad and you were just getting stitched up.”

“They aren’t bad,” Royce agreed. “What did he say about Sophie’s injuries?”

“They’re minor. Just a few cuts and bruises. She was a little queasy, though, and that’s why she wanted to go to the bathroom.”

Hell.
Queasy didn’t sound good for several reasons. Maybe the pregnancy. Maybe an injury the doctor hadn’t detected. Even if it was simply because she was upset—and she had a right to feel that—Royce didn’t want her going through that alone.

“Hey.” Jake stopped him again when he started to leave. “What’s going on? Did something happen that you didn’t tell me about?”

Nothing that had to do with the investigation. Royce had filled in his brother when Jake had arrived at the vacant farm and driven them back to Mustang Ridge. In turn, Jake had taken over tying up a few loose ends, like charging the surviving gunmen and starting the paperwork.

“I’m not blind,” Jake said, keeping a grip on Royce’s arm. “I saw the way you were holding Sophie in the truck.”

He’d done some holding all right. In fact, Royce hadn’t wanted to let go of her. It might take a lifetime or two for him to forget the bullets flying past her and the way the SOB Lott had punched her in the face.

“You care for her,” Jake added.

“I do,” Royce admitted. And it was a relief to say it aloud.

However, his relief was cut short when he heard the hurried footsteps and he saw Stanton making a beeline toward them.

“I heard,” Stanton said. “Is Sophie hurt?”

Royce was about to say he didn’t know and head out to find her, but he saw the movement at the end of the hall and spotted her coming out of the bathroom.

His breath of relief was a lot louder than he’d anticipated, and it caused both Jake and Stanton to give him a funny look. Royce ignored them and went to her. Sophie moved quickly toward him, too, and they pulled each other into their arms.

She held him gently, mindful of his wounded shoulder, but Royce brought her even closer to him.

“The doctor said you’d be okay.” Her voice was all breath, and she was trembling. She held him so gently that he figured she was terrified of hurting him.

But nothing hurt now.

Well, except for seeing those bruises on her face and chin. Royce wished he could give Lott another beating for those. It took a special kind of scum to hit a woman.

He pushed her hair from her face so he could examine every nick, every scrape, and yeah, those god-awful bruises.

“Nothing serious,” she assured him but frowned when her attention landed on his bandaged shoulder. “You shouldn’t be on your feet.”

Royce ignored that. “Jake said you were queasy.”

She nodded, glanced around, nodded again and looked as if she might say something. And then Sophie’s attention landed on her brother who was making his way toward them.

“Stanton.” She eased away from Royce and hugged him.

“I heard what Lott did to you.” Stanton cursed. “I’m glad the bastard’s dead.” He lifted her chin, examining the bruises, and had a reaction similar to Royce’s.