Mason

by Delores Fossen

  Her mother. Probably the woman Boone had bedded down with while still a married man. Mason didn’t intend to ask about that or anything else that wasn’t directly relevant to the investigation into the fire and gunman. The less he knew about Boone, the better. The man was like battery acid, eating away at the people he’d once claimed to love.

  “I think Boone kept up with all of you as best he could,” she continued. “But he always did it in a way not to draw attention to himself.”

  Yeah, so that no one could find him after he’d run out.

  But something about that didn’t sit right. Not now, not after meeting Abbie. Maybe Boone had lain low for her sake. To keep the corrupt ex-cop, Ferguson, from finding her.

  More battery acid.

  Boone had protected Abbie, but he hadn’t cared a rat’s you-know-what about his own blood kin for the past two decades.

  Mason walked ahead of her onto the porch and punched in the code to unlock the door. Yet another recently added security measure. After a couple of intruders and even attacks on the grounds, Mason had taken a lot of measures that he hoped would keep everyone safe.

  When he stepped into the kitchen ahead of Abbie, Mason slid his gun into the waist of his jeans, but he nearly drew it again when he heard the movement.

  “It’s just me,” his kid brother Kade greeted. “Grayson called, said there was a problem, so I turned off the lights.”

  Mason kept them off, but he could still see because of the outside lights. Kade was at the table feeding a bottle to one of his twin girls. Mason didn’t have a clue which one because Leah and Mia were identical.

  “Everything okay?” Kade asked. “Did they find the gunman?”

  “Not yet.” When Abbie didn’t come inside, Mason took her arm again and urged her in. Best to minimize her time outside because the gunman was still at large.

  Kade’s attention landed on Abbie. “It’s true? She’s been with Boone all these years?”

  “Pretty much.” Well, unless she was lying, but Mason couldn’t think of a good reason for her to do that—yet. Still it didn’t make sense to lie about something that was going to make her an outcast.

  And that’s exactly what it had done.

  Kade didn’t sound any happier about this situation than Mason was.

  “I’m sorry for all the trouble,” Abbie mumbled. She inched closer when Kade put the baby against his chest to burp her. Even in the dim light, Mason could see Abbie smile at the infant. “How many grandchildren does Boone have?”

  Mason wanted to answer none because the man would have to be a father first before he became a grandfather. Boone wasn’t anywhere close to being a father.

  “Six,” Kade answered, still staring at her.

  Abbie’s smile dissolved, probably because of Kade’s less-than-warm tone. That was Mason’s cue to get her out of there.

  “This way,” Mason instructed, and he led her out of the kitchen, into the foyer and up the stairs. It wasn’t a short walk. The three-story house was huge, and it was getting bigger now that Kade and his wife were building another addition so they’d have private quarters.

  He heard Abbie’s breath racing by the time they made it to the top of the stairs. She was winded, he was betting. This was part of the adrenaline crash. Soon, she’d be too exhausted to stand.

  Mason led her to the room directly across from his. Part of him wanted to put her as far away as possible, but the danger wasn’t over. Plus, he wasn’t sure he could trust her. He didn’t want her sneaking out before they got the answers needed for their investigation.

  “The guest room,” he let her know, throwing open the door. “The doctor will be here soon to make sure you’re okay. If you need anything, I’ll be in there.” He pointed to his own suite.

  She nodded, pushed her hair from her face, but she didn’t go inside. “In the morning I’ll need to go to the bank so I can get some money to leave. All my cash burned in the guesthouse, and I don’t have a credit card.”

  Mason hadn’t forgotten about the fire, but for the first time he realized all of Abbie’s belongings had been inside. “I owe you some wages, and if it’s not enough, I’ll lend you the money.”

  She managed another of those awkward smiles. “You’re really anxious to get me out of here.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  Mason didn’t miss the slight tremble in her voice. She was trembling again, too. “You think it’s safe for you to go?”

  “It’s never safe.” Her gaze came back to his. “If I don’t get a chance to tell you tomorrow, thank you for saving me not once but twice. And for hiring me. I’m thirty-two, but it’s the first time I’ve gotten a job without Boone’s help.”

  For some reason that admission and the trembling bothered him. “You don’t need his help for a job. I watched you with the horses yesterday, and you know what you’re doing.”

  “That’s high praise coming from you.” She paused. “It wasn’t a lie, you know. I really did read about the ranch, about what you’ve accomplished here. You’ve done a good job, Mason.”

  He didn’t want to be flattered, but he was the ranch. It was his baby. He was as married to it as his brothers were to their spouses and badges. Yeah, he had a badge, too, but it would never mean as much as this place did.

  “Good night,” Abbie mumbled. She turned and stumbled right smack-dab into the door.

  Mason automatically reached out and caught her. He didn’t pull her into his arms or pick her up as he’d done before. The less contact, the better.

  “You just need some rest,” he assured her, but he didn’t let go of her.

  Abbie made a sound to indicate she didn’t believe him. And with good reason. It was a lie. Unless she had nerves of steel, she was going to be dealing with the fire and attack for a while. The stuff of nightmares, which she’d no doubt have the moment she fell asleep.

  When the trembling kept up, Mason mumbled some profanity, slipped his arm around her waist and led her to the bed. He didn’t dawdle. Every moment he was next to Abbie like this was a moment of discomfort and only gave more thoughts of why he didn’t want to think about the discomfort.

  He deposited her on the bed, issued a hasty good-night and headed for the door.

  Oh, man.

  What the heck was going on inside his head? Except he was pretty sure his head wasn’t in on these particular feelings. No. This was a behind-the-zipper, below-the-belt kind of reaction and a slap-in-the-face reminder that he really needed to take the time to be with a woman. Soon.

  Not Abbie, of course.

  She might put a strain on his Wranglers, but she was hands-off. There was no way he’d get past her association with Boone. Or the danger. The lies, too.

  Hell, she had a whole state of strikes against her. No use spelling them all out again.

  Mentally kicking himself, he headed to his room, took off his Stetson, slapped on the lights and made a beeline for his laptop in the sitting room–office area. Mostly office. There were files, memos and notes stacked high but neatly on the desk. Bessie’s doing. He’d need to remember to thank the housekeeper-caregiver for digging out the place—again.

  Once the laptop booted up, Mason sank down in the chair and clicked on the security camera icon. The images immediately popped onto the screen, and he saw the fire department still at work next to what was left of the guest cottage. Grayson was talking to Dade and Nate, which meant his brothers hadn’t found the gunman.

  Soon, Mason would get a call from one of them to let him know that and inform him of any other update on the search, but for now Mason tapped into the stored security feed, and he backtracked an hour.

  No flames in the cottage then. No one lurking around either. But he kept watching, and he finally saw the shadowy figure near the back porch area. There were no security cameras there.

  Had the guy known that?

  Maybe. And it meant Mason had some modifications to make. He wan
ted that and all areas of the ranch covered even if it was too little, too late.

  The person on the screen moved quickly, opening a gas can and dousing the porch with the liquid, but he didn’t light it. He disappeared from sight. The seconds ticked away on the camera clock, a full minute passing before the front door of the cottage popped open. But it wasn’t Abbie.

  The arsonist again.

  He’d obviously broken in or gone through the back to the front of the house. It was a man wearing dark clothes and a baseball cap slung low on his forehead. He had some kind of tool in his hand that he used to unhinge the door, and he propped it in place before he hurried back to the gas can. He lit it with the flick of a match.

  Mason saw the flames burst around the back of the cottage, and he tried not to imagine Abbie being inside. She probably hadn’t smelled the smoke at this point. Probably didn’t know she was a thread away from dying.

  The smoke and fire billowed from the cottage, and even though there was no audio, he saw the shadowy figure move behind a tree. He put away the tool that he’d used to unhinge the door and took something else from his pocket. Mason couldn’t see what, but he copied the still frame and would send it for analysis.

  Moments later on the screen, Mason saw Abbie throw open the door and yell for help. She was staggering, probably because of the smoke, and that was maybe why she hadn’t realized the door was falling on her. She was too late to get out of the way. It slammed right into her back, knocking her to the ground.

  Mason switched camera angles, going back to the arsonist. The guy stayed there behind the tree, watching and holding whatever was in his hand. He didn’t budge until Mason came running toward the cottage and toward Abbie.

  He didn’t stay on that camera angle. Mason switched to the others, looking for the arsonist. Finally, he went to the camera near the fence.

  Bingo.

  The guy was hiding behind another tree. Waiting to gun down Abbie, no doubt. Mason zoomed in on his face, adjusting the feed until he captured the image. He copied it and immediately emailed it to his brother Gage at the Silver Creek sheriff’s office. He also grabbed the phone and called him.

  Gage answered on the first ring. “That’s our intruder?” he asked Mason.

  “He is. Can you run it through the facial recognition software? I also need to see if you can identify what he’s holding in the first photo.”

  “Doing that now,” Gage assured him, and Mason heard him typing something on the keyboard. “Everything else okay at the house?”

  “The wives and kids are all safe, including your better half.” Mason waited for the rest of Gage’s question. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “Boone’s not trying to worm his way back into the family, is he?” Gage asked.

  “I don’t think so, but it doesn’t matter. He’s not stepping foot on this ranch.”

  “Good,” Gage growled. He paused. “What about your horse trainer?”

  “Abbie Baker,” Mason provided. “She’ll be leaving in the morning.” And his Wranglers or his knee-jerk reaction to her situation weren’t going to have a say in it.

  “When Grayson called earlier, he said she believes someone wants to kill Boone,” Gage went on. “Get in line, right?”

  “Yeah.” But the agreement didn’t feel as right as Mason wanted it to feel. “She said something happened last month, that Boone started getting nervous.”

  Last month had significant meaning to Gage because Senator Ford Herrington, the man who’d murdered their grandfather, had also been Gage’s father-in-law. And one month ago, Ford had committed suicide.

  “Ford was as dirty as they came,” Gage verified, “but he’s dead. He’s not a threat to any of us, including Boone.”

  Mason was about to agree with that as well, but Gage spoke before he could say anything. Well, he didn’t speak, exactly.

  Gage cursed.

  “I got an immediate hit with the facial recognition software,” Gage said. “We got some major trouble, brother. Lock up the ranch. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

  Chapter Six

  Abbie eased open the guest room door and peered out into the hall. Empty.

  Thank goodness.

  She had no choice but to see Mason this morning so he could usher her off the ranch as fast as humanly possible, especially since the doctor had given her the all-clear when he’d examined her. But she hadn’t wanted to run into any other Rylands. Not after the frosty reception she’d gotten from Grayson and Kade. It was clear she wasn’t wanted here, and after the fire and the gunman, Abbie was ready to go home and regroup.

  But she rethought that.

  Maybe she shouldn’t go back to Eagle Pass to the house that she shared with Boone. If by some chance the gunman managed to follow her, she could end up putting Boone in danger. She didn’t want that. She’d already put enough people at risk, including herself, by trying to uncover a truth that Boone obviously didn’t want her to.

  Before Abbie could decide where she could go, she heard the sounds coming from Mason’s room across the hall. Sounds she hadn’t expected to hear.

  Laughter.

  The door to his suite was ajar, so Abbie went closer and had a peek inside. Mason was at his desk, a laptop and a breakfast tray positioned in front of him, but he wasn’t alone. There was a red-haired toddler running circles around his desk, and each time the little girl reached his chair, Mason would goose her in the stomach. Both of them laughed with each round.

  It was eavesdropping, plain and simple, but Abbie couldn’t stop herself. She’d never seen this side of Mason. He certainly wasn’t the gruff rancher or cowboy cop she’d encountered during her interview and her handful of workdays.

  Abbie watched when the toddler smacked into the side of the desk and tumbled to the floor. No more laughter. She started to cry, and Mason sprang from his chair to pick her up. Abbie knew how it felt to be in his arms, and it had a similar soothing effect on the child. She stopped crying.

  “Gotta be careful, Curly Locks,” he said to her, and he brushed a kiss on her forehead. But the words had no sooner left his mouth, when his attention zoomed across the room and landed on Abbie.

  “Are you coming in, or do you plan to stand out there all morning?” he asked.

  Abbie felt her cheeks redden, and she hoped he hadn’t realized just how long she’d been watching him. She stepped inside, Mason’s gaze sliding over her from head to toe. She’d tried to look presentable in her borrowed clothes and with the toiletries she’d found in the bathroom. Abbie doubted that she did.

  Mason, on the other hand, looked more than presentable in his well-worn jeans, black shirt and cowboy boots. Actually, he looked hot, something she wished she hadn’t noticed. Worse, he no doubt noticed that she noticed.

  Oh, mercy.

  Focus, Abbie.

  She was about to ask who would be driving her into Silver Creek, but Mason spoke before she could.

  “This is Kimmie. Kimberly Ellen,” he corrected, kissing the toddler’s forehead again. “Her stepmom, Darcy, is hugging the toilet. Morning sickness. Her dad, Nate, is working. And the nannies are tied up with the twins, my two other nephews and Grayson’s newborn, so Kimmie and I are hanging out.”

  “So many babies,” she mumbled. All of them Boone’s grandchildren, something she wouldn’t mention again. “I’ve never been around children. I’m more comfortable with horses,” she confessed.

  “Yeah. Me, too.” But then he shrugged and grinned at Kimmie when she returned the kiss to his cheek.

  “Nunk,” the little girl said, and she dropped her head onto his shoulder.

  “That’s Kimmie’s version of uncle,” Mason explained. He eased her back to a standing position, and Kimmie ran to the toy chest next to a leather sofa. Everything in the room was masculine except for that toy chest that was stuffed to the brim.

  Mason took his gaze off his niece and turned it back on Abbie. No glare this morning. His face could never be considered soft, b
ut she thought she could see sympathy or something in his eyes. Well, she thought that until his gaze slid over her again.

  Abbie checked to make sure the concho was hidden. It was. She nearly asked if something else was wrong, but then she saw it. Not anger or even disapproval. He was looking at her the way a man looked at a woman.

  Oh. That.

  The look didn’t last long, and he shifted his attention to the laptop.

  “Did anyone have time to check on the horses to make sure they’re okay?” she asked. It sickened her to think that the gunman who’d attacked them would go after the helpless animals.

  “All of them are fine.” He paused. “I’ll move the ones you were training back to the pasture until I can hire someone else.”

  That sickened her a little, too, but there was nothing she could do about it. After what had happened, she couldn’t stay.

  Because her hands suddenly felt shaky, Abbie crammed them in her back pockets. “You’ll be driving me into town?”

  He got another look. Not one grounded in attraction this time. His forehead bunched up.

  Mason tipped his head to the breakfast tray. “Why don’t you pour yourself a cup of coffee while we talk.”

  Uh-oh. This couldn’t be good, and Abbie doubted that coffee would help. Although it did smell good, and her head was throbbing from lack of both sleep and caffeine.

  She went closer, poured herself a cup. “What happened?”

  He motioned for her to sit in the chair next to his desk, but she shook her head. Sipped her coffee. And waited.

  “The man who set the fire and shot at us is Ace Chapman,” Mason let her know. “He’s a hired gun and not small potatoes either. The FBI has had tabs on him for years and hasn’t been able to nail him, but they estimate that he’s killed more than a dozen people.”

  Abbie had tried to brace herself for this, but she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. Not just an assassin but one with a deadly résumé. “How did this monster know I was here at the ranch?”

  Mason shook his head. “I haven’t figured that out yet. The P.I. agency I use for background checks is making sure nothing was leaked. But there’s a possibility that someone at the agency made your photo available to the wrong person.”