Boone shook his head. “No, but he’s come after her before. And he had her mother gunned down right in front of her.”
Even though that’d happened ages ago, it still required Abbie to take a deep breath. “Ferguson was in here earlier,” she told Boone. “And he insinuated that this might be connected to Senator Herrington’s suicide and the affair his wife had with your late father-in-law.”
“You remember that?” Dade spoke up. “Of course you do. You ran out on us shortly thereafter. Bad timing.” Dade jabbed his index finger in Boone’s direction. “And if you think for one minute that we’ll forgive you for that, for losing our mother, then think again.”
Boone shook his head, and a weary breath left his mouth. “No. I know you won’t forgive me. I didn’t come for that. I came to get Abbie out of here before Ferguson tries to kill her again.” He tipped his head toward the door. “We need to go.”
“Not a smart move.” Mason’s voice sliced through the thick silence that followed Boone’s request. “The hit man, Ace Chapman, is still out there.”
“Men like him are always out there,” Boone answered. “I’ve kept her safe for over twenty years.”
“Have you?” Mason challenged. He walked past his brothers. “Because just last night someone tried to kill her. Twice.”
Boone flinched, just a little, probably not enough for his sons to notice. But Abbie noticed.
“She shouldn’t have come to Silver Creek,” Boone said. A father’s warning. Abbie had heard it often enough when she was a kid.
“I was worried about you,” she explained.
Boone stared at her. “Well, now we’re even because I’m worried about you. It’s time to leave.”
“She can’t leave.” Mason didn’t raise his voice, didn’t change his tone, but it got everyone’s attention. “Abbie’s at the center of an attempted murder and an arson investigation. She’s not just the victim, she’s also a witness, and I haven’t even taken her statement yet.”
“Then take it,” Boone said on a huff. “I need to put some distance between her and Ferguson.”
Mason came closer, put his hands on his hips. He also continued to scowl at his father. “Once she gives her statement, she’ll need to be in protective custody. Not with you. But with me.”
“You hardly know her,” Boone fired back. “I can protect her as well as you can.”
Because this could turn into a full-scale argument, Abbie huffed and held up her hands. “I’m standing right here and don’t appreciate not being part of this discussion.”
“It’s not a discussion,” Mason let her know. “It’s an investigation, and it’s not up to your foster father to determine how best to keep you safe.”
Abbie wanted that, to be safe, but she didn’t want to pit Mason against Boone. She turned to Boone, trying to figure out a way to calm some of his fears, but Mason’s profanity stopped her cold.
“Not this,” Mason grumbled. “Not now.”
She followed his gaze to the front glass and spotted the couple making a beeline for the sheriff’s office. The woman was tall, curvy and had perfectly styled honey-blond hair. The fifty-something man was wearing a business suit and carrying a briefcase.
Mason moved quickly. He came to the front of the reception desk, latched on to Abbie and yanked her behind him. Dade and Grayson came forward, too, and they created a human shield in front of her.
“What’s wrong?” Abbie managed to ask.
“That’s Rodney Stone and Nicole Manning,” Mason said just as the couple stepped inside.
Abbie knew the names, of course. Ferguson had mentioned them earlier, and they were former associates of the late Senator Ford Herrington.
Nicole looked at the protective stance of the three lawmen, smiled, and her smile widened when her attention landed on Boone.
“The patriarch returns home,” Nicole said, her voice an annoying purr.
“Just visiting,” Boone insisted. “What brings you here?”
“Just visiting,” Stone repeated. His voice wasn’t a purr, more like a growl, and he wasn’t smiling either.
“You know them?” Abbie whispered to Boone.
He nodded.
“Boone and I go way back,” Nicole provided. She paused and dropped the smile when she turned to Grayson. She glanced behind him at Abbie. “So this is the woman you’re trying to protect?”
“Not trying,” Mason snapped. “We are protecting her.”
“Good luck with that,” Nicole mumbled. “We’re here to see Vernon Ferguson.”
Grayson lifted his shoulder. “He’s gone, said he was meeting you two at the Saddle and Spur.”
“He didn’t show,” Stone barked. “He’s late, and I’m tired of waiting for him.”
“That sounds like a personal problem to me,” Mason replied. “But because you’re here, maybe you wouldn’t mind answering some questions. Ferguson said you plan to reveal some secrets in your book.”
“A few,” Nicole smugly volunteered.
“She’s playing with fire,” Stone interrupted, and he shot her a glare. “Sometimes, secrets are best kept that way.” He checked his watch. “I have to go.”
“What secrets?” Abbie asked when Stone reached for the door. She stepped out from behind Mason, something he obviously didn’t like because he tried to block her again.
“Oh, don’t worry. They don’t pertain to you. Well, not directly.” Nicole aimed her sick, secretive smile at Boone.
“If you have something to say to me, just come out and say it,” Boone told her.
“No, thanks.” Yet another dose of smugness. “You’ll have to wait for the book.”
“While this conversation is riveting,” Stone said with sarcasm dripping from his voice, “I’m done here. If Ferguson shows, tell him to call me.” And with that order she doubted the Rylands would relay, he turned and walked out.
“You’ll have to excuse him,” Nicole said. “Stone’s a bit of a sourpuss these days. I think there are some legal issues with Ford’s will. Something’s making him testy.”
And Abbie couldn’t help but wonder if this was connected to Ace and the fire. All of it was certainly connected to the Rylands, and Boone was especially uncomfortable.
Nicole checked her own watch. “Must run. Sorry to have bothered you.” She fluttered her perfectly manicured nails at them in a goodbye gesture and walked out.
“What the hell was that all about?” Mason asked, turning his attention directly to Boone.
Abbie was about to assure Mason that Boone had nothing to do with this, but Boone’s expression said otherwise.
What was going on?
However, before Abbie could ask Boone some questions of her own, the phone rang. When the dispatcher-receptionist answered it, Abbie realized they should probably wait and have this conversation in private. She didn’t know the woman at the desk, and therefore she didn’t know if everything being said here would be blabbed all over town.
“What’s wrong, Tina?” Grayson asked the woman who’d just answered the phone.
Abbie turned, looked at the dispatcher to see what had prompted Grayson’s question. Her face said it all. The woman turned ashy pale.
“The caller says he’s Ace Chapman,” she relayed, and she handed the phone to Grayson. “He says don’t bother trying to trace the call because he’s using a prepaid cell.”
Abbie’s stomach knotted. Her chest became tight. And just like that, she was taken right back to the nightmare of nearly being killed.
Mason moved closer to Abbie, both of them with their gazes fastened to Grayson as he put the phone to his ear. But Grayson wasn’t saying anything. He was just listening. Several moments later, he handed the phone back to Tina.
“Was it Ace?” Mason immediately asked.
“Hard to tell, but he claims he is.” He looked at Boone. “Ace said I’m to give you a message—if you’ll surrender to him, he won’t harm Abbie.”
“What?” Abbie couldn�
��t ask that fast enough. She snapped toward Boone. “Why would he ask you to do something like that? Do you know him?”
“No, I don’t.” Boone went to her and ran his hand down the length of her arm. “But it’s not a bad offer.”
Abbie had to get past the gasp in her throat before she could speak. “How can you say that?” She pushed his hand away so she could latch on to him. “What’s going on?”
Mason got right in Boone’s face. “Do you know who hired Ace?”
“I’m guessing it’s Ferguson.”
“A guess?” Mason challenged. He stared at his father. “Start talking. Tell us why this is happening.”
“I have no way of knowing that, but I do know men like Ferguson, and he probably figures this is a way of making Abbie suffer.”
“It would work,” she let him know, “if you were going out there. But you aren’t.”
Boone gave weary sigh. “It might put an end to things with Ferguson.”
“And it could get you killed!” Abbie fired back. She turned to Mason for help, figuring it was a long shot at best.
“If you know men like Ferguson, then you also know he’s a liar,” Mason stated. “Yeah, he might have you gunned down to hurt Abbie, but he could be doing this to get you out of the way. As you pointed out, you’ve kept her alive for over twenty years.” Mason shrugged. “Ferguson might believe his best shot at her is to get you out of the way.”
The argument was dead-on, something Abbie wished she’d thought to say. Hard to think rationally, though, when her thoughts were racing and she might be on the verge of losing the man she considered to be her father.
Boone’s jaw tightened. The muscles stirred there. But he finally nodded. “So, how do we stop him?”
“There’s no we in this.” Mason met his stare with one of his own. “You leave Silver Creek, and I put Abbie in protective custody.”
“Boone needs protection, too,” Abbie pointed out.
That suggestion went over like a lead balloon. All but Tina scowled at her, and the woman seemed as confused and frightened as Abbie was.
Boone looked at Mason again. “Keep Abbie safe. Don’t make her pay for the things I did wrong.”
Mason didn’t respond, other than a deepening scowl. Boone gave a nod to the others before turning to her.
Boone opened the door and glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’ll be here in town when it’s safe for you to leave.”
She was about to nod, but without warning Mason again shoved her behind him.
“Get down!” Grayson shouted.
From the corner of her eye, Abbie saw the split second of movement next to the building across the street from the sheriff’s office. It was a man, dressed all in black. And before it could even register in Abbie’s mind, he fired a shot.
It slammed into the glass next to Boone’s head.
Boone dived to the floor. Mason and Abbie did the same, and Mason practically crawled over her and came up ready to fire. Boone also pulled the Colt that he always carried in the back waist of his jeans.
Another shot crashed into the dispatcher’s desk. Tina screamed, and there was a scurry of movement. Dade and Grayson were no doubt getting the woman out of the line of fire.
Boone aimed the Colt, pulled the trigger. Just as the shooter darted behind the building and out of sight.
“It’s Ace Chapman,” Mason relayed to the others.
Of course. Who else? Ferguson wasn’t going to do this himself, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he were close by, watching all of this.
“Stay down,” Mason warned her, and he levered himself up. For a moment she thought he was only shifting position, but he moved off her. “Switch places with me,” he told Boone.
“No!” Abbie managed to say. She didn’t want either of them up and moving, but neither listened to her.
Another shot came crashing through the glass front door. It was reinforced with metal wire so the glass didn’t shatter, but the next shot splintered some wood on the desk.
“I’m coming up,” Mason said. “Everybody else stay down.”
She wanted to shout no again because whatever he had in mind had to be dangerous. Of course, being pinned down by a hit man wasn’t exactly safe. Abbie reminded herself that Mason was an experienced lawman.
That didn’t help.
She was just as terrified for his safety and prayed that Ace wouldn’t shoot Mason or anyone else to get to her.
Mason scurried to the doorway. It happened fast but in slow motion, too. Her heart and head were pounding. Her stomach, churning. But because she wasn’t armed, there was nothing she could do but lie there beside Boone and watch.
Mason was fast. He came up on one knee, and in the same motion he took aim.
He fired.
Not one shot but two, loud thick blasts that roared through the room and through her. Boone threw his arm over her, pushing her all the way to the floor so that she couldn’t see what was happening.
However, she did hear Mason curse.
Oh, mercy. Something was wrong.
“Get an ambulance,” Mason shouted. “Now!”
Chapter Nine
Mason could only stand and watch the ambulance speed away with Ace Chapman inside. The medic, Tommy Watters, had mumbled something about the man’s condition “not looking good.” Mason couldn’t argue with that. They’d be darn lucky if the hit man pulled through this.
“You did what you had to do,” Grayson reminded Mason. Again.
But it was a reminder that didn’t help much. In most situations like this, Mason would have shot to kill. This time, though, he’d tried to neutralize Ace while keeping him alive.
So they would have a chance of Ace telling them who’d hired him.
That chance was slim to none right now. Ace had moved at the last second when Mason had fired, and instead of Mason’s shot going into the man’s shoulder, it had slammed into his chest. He’d gone down hard and fast.
“If Ace says anything, Dade will hear it,” Grayson added.
Yeah, Dade might because he was riding in the ambulance and would no doubt stay at the hospital until there was some kind of update. But unless Ace regained consciousness, a confession wasn’t likely.
That meant they were back to having a lot of questions and no real answers.
Mason turned and headed back into the sheriff’s office to check on Abbie and the others. No one else had been shot, thank God, but one look at Abbie’s face and he knew she hadn’t come out of this unscathed.
She was seated in the chair across from his desk. Not alone. Boone was standing by her side with his hand stroking the back of her hair. Across the hall, Tina, the dispatcher, was having a crying meltdown in Grayson’s office. His brother was on the phone rounding up the rest of the deputies to help with the investigation.
Mason stepped in the doorway of his office, and Abbie immediately got to her feet. “Did Ace say anything?” she asked with way too much hope in her voice.
He shook his head, dashing those hopes to the floor. “Dade will keep us updated.” And then he slid his gaze to Boone. Mason didn’t say a word, but he figured his unfriendly expression would do the trick.
It did.
“I’ll be out front,” Boone mumbled.
“Not outside,” Abbie said. No more hope, just alarm in her tone and on her face.
“No. I’ll be in reception,” Boone assured her.
Mason stepped back, way back, so that Boone could get past him without getting close. He didn’t even look at the man who’d fathered him. Instead, Mason kept his attention on Abbie.
“You okay?” he asked her.
She made a sound, part laughter, that had nothing to do with humor. “I should be used to this by now.”
“No one should be used to this,” he mumbled. Even though Texas-sized warning bells were going off in his head, Mason went to her anyway and pulled her into his arms.
The bells went silent.
Everything else
in his head got louder. He knew he should back away, but he didn’t.
Abbie eased back, looked up at him. “I should be used to this now, too.” She glanced down at his arms wrapped around her. “You’ve been doing it a lot lately. Don’t get me wrong,” she quickly added, “I like it. In fact, I need it. But I know how much it’s costing you.”
Yeah, there was a price tag on it all right. Each time he was with her, his thoughts drifted to sex. Nothing permanent. He never thought past the seasons of the ranch. But even a one-night stand with Abbie meant he had to get past her relationship with Boone.
Mason shrugged.
If this heat inside him kept building, he could probably get past anything, and that wasn’t good either.
“Most people are scared of me,” he reminded her, hoping it would cause her to back away and put an end to this.
“I know,” she mumbled. No backing away. She moved closer, resting her head against his shoulder.
Oh, mercy. Her body was warm and she practically sank into him. That warmth gave his own body some bad ideas, like taking her back to the ranch and to his bed.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll be out of your life soon.”
Mason made a sound of agreement, but the agreement didn’t settle well in his mind. It was probably the forced camaraderie from the danger that was stirring the attraction. Not that the attraction needed anything to stir it. It was there, plain and simple, and even if his body was starting to ache for Abbie, Mason knew it wasn’t wise for it to happen.
He backed away to tell her that, but his cell rang before he could get out a word. Hoping that it was an update from Dade, he looked at the screen. Not Dade. But it was someone Mason had expected to call.
“Marshal McKinney,” Mason greeted. He put the call on Speaker. “Thanks for getting back to me. I have Abbie with me now.”
“Good. I heard about the shooting. Was she hurt?”
“No,” Mason and she answered in unison.
“Good,” the marshal repeated. And added what sounded to be a breath of relief. “Abbie, I’m working on your identity reassignment now and should have everything together in a day or two. Until then, I need you to remain in Deputy Ryland’s protective custody. Will there be a problem with that?”
Mason Page 8
