“We have to reschedule this,” Grayson informed Ferguson and his lawyers. That sent a flurry of questions and complaints from the lawyers, but Ferguson himself just smugly sat there as if he’d accomplished the chaos that he’d wanted.
“Is there a problem?” Ferguson asked Grayson when Gage got up and left. No doubt going to assist Dade and Mel.
“You tell me,” Grayson fired back. “Is there?”
Ferguson lifted his shoulder in a casual shrug. “No problem that I’m aware of. I’m just doing my civic duty by voluntarily coming here to answer questions. Questions that you implied were urgent.” Another shoulder lift. “Apparently, they’re not so urgent after all if they can be rescheduled.”
Mason wished he could muck out the stables with that arrogant face. But beside him, Abbie was having a different reaction.
“Ferguson knows what this is doing to me,” she mumbled.
No doubt. Well, it was no doubt if Ferguson had been the one to hire Ace. Mason wasn’t completely convinced that he had, and he hoped Marshal McKinney could get some answers from Boone. And getting answers from Boone was something Mason thought he’d never hear himself want.
On the other side of the glass, Ferguson checked his watch. “Well, I’m disappointed with the change in plans. I’d hoped to see Maddie this morning.” He made a show of looking embarrassed, because Mason doubted it was genuine. “Oops, make that Abbie. That’s what she’s calling herself these days. She is here, isn’t she?”
Grayson didn’t answer that. “Why did you want to see her?”
Ferguson huffed as if the answer were obvious. “To give her my sympathies, of course. I heard about the fire and the shooting at your family’s ranch where she’s working. It’s all over town. Gossips,” he added in mock disgust. “I just wanted to assure her that I would do everything in my power to make certain she’s safe.”
That put a knot in Mason’s stomach. What kind of sick game was this nutjob playing?
“You want to keep her safe?” Grayson added a flat look to go along with the question.
“I do.” More mock disgust, but Mason could see the edges of a smile. “She was just a child when her mother was killed. That wasn’t my fault, but you cops and the press blamed me for it.” He shrugged, scraped one thumbnail with another. “Still, I can’t blame Abbie for the mistakes of law enforcement.”
“So you don’t want her dead?” Grayson asked.
“No,” Ferguson jumped to answer. “All a misunderstanding on her part. I want Abbie to be safe and happy.” He turned his gaze back to the mirror. To Abbie. “I want her to be able to order white daisies for her mother’s grave without having to look over her shoulder.”
Abbie gasped and got to her feet. She would have started for the door if Mason hadn’t latched on to her.
“He saw me. He watched me.” The words rushed out with her breath. “Yesterday morning I came into town to get supplies with one of the ranch hands. I stopped by the florist to order flowers for my mother’s grave. White daisies. Today would have been her birthday.”
Hell. Mason made a mental note to call the P.I. agency again and see if someone there had leaked Abbie’s location.
“Ferguson was stupid to admit that he knew you were in town. That means he had both motive and opportunity to send Ace after you.” Even though that would be hard to prove, and Abbie’s rattled sigh let him know that she was on the same page.
“I do have other appointments in town,” Ferguson said after another check of his watch. “I suppose if your urgent questions haven’t been answered by someone else, I could return in an hour or two.”
His lawyers objected again, saying that he’d gone above and beyond to cooperate with the Silver Creek sheriff’s office. They made it sound like something lower than hoof grit.
Ferguson stood, aimed another smile at Abbie. Mason put his hand on her shoulder to steady her and kept watching.
“I’m meeting with Rodney Stone and Nicole Manning at the Saddle and Spur Café,” Ferguson said. “It’s just up the street from here, right, Sheriff?”
Abbie could no doubt tell from Grayson’s reaction that the question was a shocker. “Who are those people?” she asked Mason.
“They’re connected to the late Senator Ford Herrington. Stone was his personal attorney and friend. Nicole, his longtime lover and campaign manager.”
She shook her head. “Why would Ferguson be meeting with them, and why mention it to Grayson?”
“I’m not sure.” Mason moved closer to the mirror and waited for Grayson to ask the question that Mason was also wondering.
Grayson didn’t make him wait several seconds. “How do you know Rodney Stone and Nicole Manning?”
“You don’t have to answer that,” one of his lawyers advised.
But Mason could see the return of the smugness on Ferguson’s slimy face. “No reason not to tell the sheriff that I contributed rather large sums of money to Senator Harrington’s reelection campaigns. Ford introduced me to both of them, and we’ve seen each other at social engagements from time to time.”
Mason didn’t know why that surprised him. Both men were rotten to the core, so, in a warped way, it seemed logical that they would have an association of some kind. Maybe they were even friends.
“Why are you meeting with the senator’s former business associates?” Grayson pressed.
Ferguson smiled again. “Nicole has a book deal, one of those pillow talk, tell-all biographies, and Stone is representing her. I just want to make sure that my association with the senator will be portrayed in a good light.”
Something was up, and considering this was Ferguson, it was something bad.
Ferguson snapped his fingers in an aha gesture. “You know, you Rylands should meet with Stone and Nicole, too. I mean, just to make sure she has the correct details.”
“Details for what?” Grayson asked.
It was a good question considering that Mason and all his lawmen brothers were involved in the shootout that had ended with Ford’s suicide. Also, considering that Nicole was dirty like her late boss and lover, there was no telling what she might say.
Ferguson smiled again. “About the affair Ford’s wife had.”
Oh, man. Nicole was bringing Granddaddy Chet into this? But Mason didn’t have time for the anger to settle in.
“My grandfather’s been dead for over twenty years,” Grayson remarked. He seemed cool enough on the surface, but Mason knew he was riled underneath that lawman’s exterior. “And Ford confessed to his murder. That’s old news. Nothing for Nicole to rehash.”
Ferguson made a sound of exaggerated surprise. “Oh, I can see you’re not in the information loop. You should probably ask Nicole about this.”
Grayson stood and met Ferguson eye to eye. “I’m asking you.”
If Ferguson was the least bit intimidated by Grayson’s stance or tone, he didn’t show it. “It’s not my secret to tell, but I’m sure Nicole will share all the bits and pieces with you.” He reached across the table and extended his hand for Grayson to shake.
Grayson ignored him and strolled out ahead of Ferguson and his lawyers. His brother entered the observation room and he shut the door.
“What’s the word on Ace Chapman?” Grayson said immediately.
“Nothing yet. Mel, Gage and Dade are out there.” Mason watched as Ferguson left with his attorneys in tow. “What was all that about Nicole Manning and Rodney Stone?”
Grayson shook his head and looked at Abbie. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
“No,” Abbie quickly answered. “Mason told me about your grandfather’s murder. And about the affair he had with the senator’s wife. But I don’t know how or if it relates to anything else.”
Grayson gave him a look, and Mason groaned. Someone would have to go digging back through that old baggage. All of the painful memories, including those of Boone. And that someone was Mason.
There was a sharp knock at the door, and Mason automatical
ly moved Abbie behind him. Just in case Ferguson was making a surprise visit. But it was Dade, and he shook his head the moment he opened the door.
“Ace Chapman got away,” Dade said, causing the rest of them to groan. “Mel and Gage are still out there, and we’ve asked the Rangers to set up a roadblock. We might get lucky.”
“Might,” Abbie repeated, and Mason knew what she was thinking. As long as Ace was out there, she was in grave danger. He’d already tried to kill her twice with the fire and the shots, and he wouldn’t hesitate to try again.
Grayson moved closer to her and made eye contact. “It’s your choice, but it’d be smart for you to stay here awhile, in our protective custody.”
It was an offer he would make to anyone in danger. It was no different with Abbie, but Mason knew this wouldn’t be easy for any of them.
“Come on,” Mason insisted, and he tightened the grip he had on her arm. She was looking wobbly again. “We’ll go to my office. I need to make some calls.”
And calm Abbie down.
Grayson and Dade went in one direction, and Mason and Abbie headed up the hall. He got her inside as fast as he could but didn’t shut the door, because he wanted to hear if anyone came into the building. Especially Ace. He doubted the hit man would make a stand in the sheriff’s office, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Ferguson’s been watching me,” she repeated. “Why didn’t he just kill me when he saw me at the florist?”
Mason tried to make her sit, but she started to pace.
“My guess? Ferguson’s not the sort to do the dirty work himself. He probably found you and then called Ace. And maybe he doesn’t really want you dead. In his own sick way he might want you alive so he can torture you.”
She gave a shaky nod and scrubbed her hands down her arms. “But how did he find me?”
Yes, that was the big question, and because Mason still didn’t have an answer, he took out his phone and scrolled through the numbers until he got to Sentron, the P.I. agency in San Antonio. He put the call on Speaker, hoping that whatever he heard wouldn’t make matters worse for Abbie, and when the receptionist answered, Mason asked to speak to the owner, Burke Dennison.
“Tell me what you’ve learned about the background check on Abbie Baker,” Mason demanded.
“Well, it’s not good,” Burke said, making Mason groan.
Yeah. This would make matters worse for Abbie, but Mason was positive she wasn’t going to let him take the call off Speaker. Besides, she had a right to know, and he’d deal with the fallout later.
“The agent who handled the background check is Shelley Martin,” Burke explained, “and when she didn’t get any of the usual info in her initial run, Shelley sent out the picture to San Antonio P.D. and to other P.I. agencies around town.”
Mason would have groaned louder if it would help.
“Shelley figured this Abbie Baker was hiding something, and she was just doing her job,” Burke added.
Oh, she was hiding something all right. Hiding from a killer.
“One of the other P.I.s thought Abbie looked familiar so he did some digging, made some calls and figured out that she’s really Madelyn Turner.”
And all that digging could and would have alerted Ferguson.
“I take it this created some problems?” Burke asked.
“You bet it did. We’ll talk later.” Mason would blast Burke in a private conversation, but doing that now would only add to Abbie’s anxiety. For now, he hung up.
Abbie pushed her hair from her face and leaned against the wall. “Too bad I’m not at the ranch so I could go for a ride. It might work off some of this jitteriness.”
Mason understood. It’s how he burned off dangerous energy. And he was feeling a lot of that now, especially because he was partly responsible for Ferguson finding Abbie.
He slipped his phone back in his pocket and walked closer. What he didn’t do was close the door, even though she might like some privacy when she fell apart. There was that dangerous energy in the mix now, and privacy would only fuel things that shouldn’t be fueled.
Still, he went closer and stopped right in front of her. “I’m sorry,” he told her. And he wondered if she realized just how rare it was for him to apologize.
Apparently she did, because Abbie managed a weary smile before her breath broke, and a sob made its way from her throat. “I only made things worse by coming to Silver Creek.”
He couldn’t argue with that, but most of this wasn’t her fault. Of course, all of this had started with her lie about who she really was, but considering how quickly Ferguson had found her, it was a warranted lie.
Well, for the most part.
And it was that most part and the sob that had Mason moving even closer. He slid his arm around her waist. The warning in his head came almost immediately. Danger ahead. But the rest of him pretty much ignored that, and he stayed put.
Abbie looked up at him, her eyes shiny with fresh tears. “It’s harder when you’re nice to me,” she whispered.
Mason smiled before he could stop himself. Then frowned. Then scowled, but the scowl wasn’t for Abbie. It was for him. What the heck was he doing?
Apparently, he was making a mistake.
That’s because he leaned in, lowered his head and brushed a kiss on her cheek. In the back of his mind, he rationalized that this was the kind of comfort they both needed. But that was a lie. Kissing her, even a cheek kiss wasn’t for comfort. It was to appease this blasted attraction.
Abbie made a sound. Not a sob. But a soft murmur that sounded like a pleasure reaction. Mason tested that theory with another brush kiss. This time, though, his mouth moved to hers.
Oh, yeah.
It was pleasure all right. And bad. Very bad. That’s because he didn’t move, and he didn’t stop with just a simple touch. He pressed harder. Moved closer. Touching her body with his. And taking the kiss of comfort to a whole new level.
Man, she tasted good.
Like something he’d searched for his entire life. And he couldn’t feel that way, especially not about Abbie.
Did that stop him?
No.
Nor did the fact that his office door was wide-open, and one of his brothers could come walking in at any moment.
But Abbie thankfully had some sense left. She pulled back, met his gaze. “We should rethink this,” she whispered. And then she did something that caused his body to clench, and beg. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and made that sound of pleasure again.
He was toast.
Mason was ready to go back for a second kiss, but the jangling sound stopped him cold. Even through the hot haze in his head, he knew the sound meant that someone had just come through the front door of the sheriff’s office.
He hoped like heck that it wasn’t Ace Chapman.
Abbie no doubt thought the same thing because the fear, and some embarrassment, flashed through her eyes.
“Stay put,” Mason warned her, and with his gun ready, he stepped into the hall, bracing himself for a showdown with a hit man.
But it wasn’t Ace Chapman who had just stepped in.
Mason saw the man, and his stomach went to his knees.
Boone Ryland was back.
Chapter Eight
Abbie held her breath, waiting. But Mason didn’t shoot at the person who had captured his attention. In fact, no one shot, but the building suddenly went silent.
She inched closer to Mason, looked around him, and she cursed when she spotted Boone. What the heck was he doing here?
“You asked him to come?” Mason wanted to know. Except it wasn’t a question. It was a demand. And what was left of the heat from the kiss turned ice-cold. In fact, it felt as if the temperature in the entire place had dropped.
“No, I didn’t ask him to come here.” In fact, this was the last place Abbie wanted to see Boone, and his sons no doubt felt the same. Of course, she had a different reason. She loved him, and Silver Creek was not a safe place rig
ht now.
Abbie maneuvered around Mason. Then Dade. And finally around Grayson before she made it to the front where the petite brunette dispatcher sat with her mouth wide-open. Abbie had braced herself for a confrontation with Ace, but in some ways this might be worse.
The three brothers came forward, a united force, standing in the hall behind her.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” Dade tossed out to Boone. But she figured any of them could have voiced that particular sentiment.
Boone didn’t look hurt by the remark. Just resigned. But he did take a moment to study each of his sons. Because Abbie knew him so well, she saw the pride. The pain. And the swirl of emotions that Boone had tried to bury for the past two decades.
“Are you okay?” Boone asked, his attention returning to her.
“I’m fine,” she lied. Even though she knew it would upset the others, she went around the reception desk and gave him a hug. Yes, it would cause more friction, if that was possible, but she needed that hug. Apparently, Boone did, too.
“Funny that you’re concerned about her safety.” Dade, again.
“Not funny,” Boone assured him. “I’m concerned about your safety, too. About all of you.”
Judging from the sound Dade made, he didn’t believe him.
“Why are you here?” she whispered to Boone.
“Why are you here?” Boone repeated. “You said you were going to Austin. You lied to me.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry. Believe it or not, I was trying to help.”
“You should have talked to me first.” He cocked his eyebrow in a gesture that reminded her of Grayson. “I heard about the fire and the shooting.”
“We’re investigating it,” Grayson explained. “And we don’t need or want your help.”
She glanced back at Mason to see if he would add anything, but he just stood there glaring.
“Have you found the man Vernon Ferguson hired to kill Abbie?” Boone asked. He volleyed glances at all three of his sons.
It was Grayson who stepped forward to answer. “We’re still looking for him.” He paused. “You have proof that Ferguson is the one who hired the gunman?”
Mason Page 7
