Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle)

by Susan Vaughan

  The one called El Águila smiled. “Pack a suitcase.”

  *****

  Maddy leaned her cheek against the gelding’s silken one and breathed in the earthy scents of horse and hay. She stroked his muzzle, soothing her spirit as much as that of the animal. Holt didn’t think she should act as bait. He’d made that point forcefully at least twenty times since they’d left Fort Adams yesterday afternoon, yet she remained resolved to go through with the plan. She had to.

  Before El Águila became impatient for vengeance and decided to move on to a new target—Holt. Or, God forbid, Bobby.

  “You keep pettin’ Bandito like that, and he’ll think he’s a lap dog,” Bronc said from the rear of the makeshift stall in the corral. “He’s doin’ fine. Aren’t you, big fella?”

  As if he understood, the horse whickered softly.

  Somehow during the day, Bandito had skinned his left rear cannon bone, and the injury had swollen. Maddy turned to glance at Bronc as he doctored the leg.

  “Horses panic easy.” The cowboy applied an antibiotic ointment to the wound. “A noise, even a mouse could have spooked him, made him kick up his heels in his jug. Or maybe he done it out in the corral.” He grumbled on about the dangers of splinters and sharp edges in horse stalls.

  She listened half-heartedly. Sleepless, she’d seen the barn light at midnight and come out to help.

  That afternoon, she and Holt had delivered Bobby to the Pattersons’ house. Rangewood seemed a safer location for him for the time being. Convincing Phyllis they needed honeymoon time alone was easy. She sure missed the little guy, though.

  And leave him? A fissure opened in her chest at the thought. His inquisitive blue eyes, his satiny skin, the bow mouth that more often widened in a happy smile. Now that his digestive problems had ended, his sunny personality shone through. How could she go?

  Earlier that evening after one last harangue, Holt had stormed down the road for a last-minute meeting with the DEA agents. His absence gave her a chance to gather her courage.

  Once again, he had withdrawn from her. Except for nagging her about being a sitting duck, he was avoiding her. Was he afraid of his feelings? Sometimes she glimpsed a deeper emotion in his eyes, but then his damn control kicked in and rendered his expression opaque.

  If there were a chance he might return the love she felt for him, she’d find a way to stick around. The open road no longer had the same appeal. Leaving would tear her away from the ones she loved. Staying would mean heartache if Holt couldn’t believe in her loyalty and love. Anticipating either deepened the rift in her to a mineshaft.

  Was his problem his damn pride, or did he still not trust her?

  When he returned, she would try to reach him, to convince him of her steadfastness. Would he believe her if she confessed the depth of her feelings for him? Probably not.

  “All done here. Bandito’ll be fine.” Bronc smoothed a gnarled brown hand over the horse’s flank and followed Maddy out of the stall. “You missin’ Holt? He’ll be back soon.”

  Can the man read my mind? “Um, just daydreaming.”

  Bronc grinned, clearly aware he’d nailed it. “The boy needs you to keep him from bein’ so goldarned serious all the time.” He cast her a sly look as he walked her to the porch. “And if an old man ain’t mistaken, you need him just as bad.”

  Before she could counter that perceptive comment, the Silverado pulled into the drive.

  *****

  As Holt braked to a stop, he spotted Maddy and Bronc outside. His pulse soared skyward. What the hell was going on? Why were they out here so late?

  He jumped out and strode over, concern lowering his brow. “Everything all right out here?”

  Bronc winked at Maddy for some reason. “Doctorin’ Bandito’s leg is all.”

  The tightness in Holt’s gut eased. Nodding, he tossed Maddy a brown envelope. “Pictures you might want to take a look at.”

  He knew her well enough to see the tangled emotions in her eyes, the worry at the edges of her mouth. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to reassure her he’d look out for her even if he’d prefer she’d stay here and not go to the Cowboy Action Shooting.

  She wore the denim jacket she’d arrived in. The reminder she’d be leaving soon racked his chest with a stony ache. Better to worry about Bobby.

  A wry smile quirked her solemn mouth when she slid out the eight-by-ten sheets. “Is this a picture of El Águila?”

  Bronc ambled closer. He studied the sunken eyes, scarred cheeks and cruel mouth. “Kinda puny, ain’t he? Don’t look strong enough to cause all the trouble you say he’s done.”

  Holt snorted his disgust. “A man like that wields his power through other people. He rarely gets his hands dirty.”

  “It’s a telephoto lens. But nice and clear.” Maddy slid the second sheet to the top. It was a long-range shot of a city street with scattered pedestrians. “What’s this?”

  “A police surveillance photo. The man in the middle is our first shooter, K.C. Riggs, or whatever he was calling himself in L.A. The next one’s a blow-up.”

  She blinked at him. “Why do you have these?”

  He shrugged. “They had extras.” He’d bulled his way into the team with pseudo-DEA status and requested the copies. In case the trap fizzled, he wanted a starting point.

  Bronc peered over Maddy’s shoulder at the enlargement. Wearing a tan jogging suit and a Padres cap, the professional killer strolled unconcerned down a city street. Bronc jabbed a gnarled finger at the man’s prominent ears and blade-like nose. “I seen this man arguin’ with Rob.”

  Holt’s pulse jumped. “Are you sure? When?”

  The wrangler nodded emphatically. “Sure as spring rains. Was a day or two before Rob was killed. In Rangewood. Him and this feller had a shoutin’ match outside the Ski and Saddle.”

  “Whoa,” Maddy said. “Why didn’t we know this before?”

  “Nobody never asked me. That’s why. I didn’t know who the feller was ‘til now.” Bronc folded his arms.

  “What did they argue about?” Holt asked. The reason might shed light on the killer’s actions.

  “Dunno. I was across the street at the feed store.” Bronc shook his head sadly. “Rob almost threw a punch at him. Then this feller just smiled and walked away. Why do you reckon he did that?”

  “That’s a puzzle, all right. What did Rob say about it?”

  “He wouldn’t talk about it. Said it was nothin’.” Bronc yawned. “Big day tomorrow. I’m hittin’ the sack.”

  He headed to the bunkhouse, a sickle moon above the high hills dimly lighting his way.

  “What do you think Rob and that man could have been arguing about?” Maddy asked as she and Holt entered the house.

  “That’s an answer we may never know.” He hung his jacket on the coat hook beside hers. “Given Rob’s temper, it could have been anything. Doesn’t seem very cool of a hired killer to mix it up with a target.”

  Her violet eyes widened and she rubbed her nose in her familiar thoughtful gesture. “Better to keep a low profile?”

  “Right.” He preferred not to speculate more with her. She’d be no safer if she left, but he’d wrap her in a cocoon for the next few days if he could.

  “What’s that?” She jerked a nod toward a florist’s paper sleeve on the kitchen counter.

  “A peace offering.” Holt rubbed his nape. “I’ve been too hard on you about photographing the shooting matches. I understand why you have to go through with it.” Still didn’t like it. Every muscle in his body seized up at the prospect of her vulnerability in the middle of the action.

  He ought to plant himself on the other side of the room. Instead he leaned on the counter beside her—close enough to reach out and touch her.

  Too close. He hooked one thumb in a belt loop.

  “Flowers! Irises. They’re beautiful.” She buried her nose in the bouquet.

  “The Mountain Market in Fort Adams had them.” Mingled with the flower scent
, her unique springtime fragrance eddied to him. A pang of longing rocked him, longing to have his mouth replace the flowers, to sample every inch of her skin. He managed a casual shrug. “They’re the color of your eyes.”

  Her smile lit the room and heated his insides. Pleasure heightened the color in her cheeks. “I love Siberian irises. Not as showy as the bearded ones, but elegant and with this rich, bold color.”

  Like you. The slim blooms suited her better than pansies. With her creamy, pale skin that flushed rosy with emotion, with her eyes the color of amethyst, and hair the color of honey, she was elegant even in jeans and a cotton shirt. And bold at whatever she did.

  She set to arranging the flowers in a tall vase she pulled from a cabinet. Burying her nose in them, she made little purrs of ecstasy in her throat.

  Nonchalance was a tough order with her nearly coming over flowers he didn’t think had a scent. Every sensual sound reminded him of her uninhibited responses in bed. Blood roared through his veins, firing lust he might not be able to hide.

  Lashes lowered, she slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. “Thank you for the flowers. It was very sweet.” She nibbled at his lower lip and teased the corners with her tongue.

  He sweated, but made himself drag her hands down. “Maddy, we were right. Sex complicates things too much. I have to focus on the dangers tomorrow. On catching the shooter. On protecting you.”

  She stepped back, sparks of anger flashing in her eyes. She folded her arms under her breasts. “Well, that’s dandy. And just why do you have to protect me?”

  He blinked at her. “You’re not stupid. The killer could be anyone in the crowd. All it takes is one loaded gun when they’re supposed to be empty.”

  “Not what I mean. Why are you my designated protector?”

  “Because you’re my responsibility.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been responsible for myself for a long time, but never mind that. Okay, Mr. Loyal-to-a-Fault, why am I your responsibility?”

  He gritted his teeth against her grilling. She was doing it to him again, backing him into a corner. “Dammit, because, well...because you’re my wife. That’s why.”

  She tilted her head and smiled, a seductive, pouting smile that rushed every corpuscle to his groin. “Your wife. Exactly.” She stepped close and slithered against him, her eyes daring him to accept her offer.

  When he didn’t, she continued. “We talked before about my leaving Rob—before the wedding. I didn’t love Rob the way he wanted me to. I told you that. I didn’t tell you the whole reason—you. And not only because of that kiss in the moonlight. There was more.”

  He remembered her that summer, so full of vitality, she gleamed like Midas’s daughter with a fresh beauty that nearly blinded him. He’d tried not to act on his attraction to her. Until that last night. “I came home for the wedding. That’s all I did. I never meant—”

  “Yes, you came home. And you rode with me and you talked with me.” He watched her expression turn dreamy.

  “And Rob.” They hadn’t been alone. Except that once. He didn’t trust himself with her. Not then. Not now. He took advantage of his brother’s girl and the guilt ate at him ever since.

  “You were grown up and strong and in charge of your life. You were a man, to Rob’s boy. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. He was the volatile good-time Charlie. You were the steady, responsible man.”

  He loved seeing her blush, the glow tinting her high cheekbones. “Sounds boring.”

  “I suppose, but I found your quiet strength incredibly sexy and moving. That and the way you take responsibility for everything and everyone.”

  “I never meant to seduce you.”

  She waved off his rebuttal. “Do you remember the rehearsal dinner, our dance together?”

  “Before Rob crashed and we went outside. I remember. Rob pushed you at me while he went to play drums with the band for a set.” He hitched his thumbs in his belt loops.

  She gave him an enigmatic smile, the kind that said she knew what he was thinking. “You held me in your arms for one dance. I don’t know how I stayed on my feet. Your nearness reduced me to a puddle of lust. When the music stopped, you could have spooned me off the floor. Later when you kissed me, I knew I couldn’t go through with the wedding. I couldn’t marry Rob.”

  That dance had done him in too. Set him up for what happened later. And for what almost happened. As if branded, he’d felt the imprint of her breasts on his torso, her hips and thighs against him, and her soft hand on his shoulder.

  He burned just remembering. And from the amused curve of her lips, she knew.

  Her expression softened and her eyes turned misty. “I told you I was having doubts about the marriage being what I really wanted, but that dance and the kiss later cinched it. How could I tell Rob I couldn’t marry him because I had the hots for his brother? I couldn’t look him in the face and explain without divulging the truth.”

  “So you wrote that cowardly note and left.”

  “But this time is different. We’re—”

  “Sure as hell is. You have a job to go to. A life away from this valley. A career. No reason to stay here as soon as Bobby’s custody’s all set with me and we catch this killer.”

  “If you believe that, you weren’t listening when I told you why I thought about investing in the Circle-S.”

  “You say you want a home and a family, but for how long?”

  Tomorrow he’d need all his professional senses tuned if the trap they’d devised were to work. How could he wall off his emotions from duty if he spent the night in her bed? She’d be leaving, not tomorrow, but soon, and he needed more entanglement with her like he needed a kick in the head.

  “Good night, Maddy.” He turned and walked away. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. A small voice in his head asked if it was also the stupidest.

  *****

  An hour later, Maddy tossed, awake and aching with emptiness in the king-sized bed. He wanted her. She knew it. But something—his overinflated sense of responsibility and pride—had stopped him. And his embedded distrust of her had sunk deeper than she could root out.

  Too much stood between them. When she left, she couldn’t return. Ever.

  Good thing she’d already telephoned her agent and arranged for a flight from New York to Paris in two weeks. She curled into a ball in the dark. The hurt grabbed at her throat, suffocated her.

  The bedroom door swung inward, shafting light across the foot of the bed. Holt stood in the opening. Barefoot, he wore only boxers. His hair stood on end as if he’d tortured his pillow the same way she had.

  “If I can’t sleep for wanting you, I’ll be no good to you tomorrow.” She couldn’t see his face, but every muscle gilded by the hall light bulged with strain, radiated tension.

  The ache in Maddy’s chest eased a notch, and her heart throbbed an erratic beat. He may not love her, but she’d have one more night, one more memory, by heaven.

  She sat up and peeled off her sleepshirt. She summoned a welcoming smile. “Come here. You can get some sleep—later.”

  Chapter 23

  Saturday’s blue sky provided the perfect weather for the Cowboy Action Shooting matches at the Circle-S. When Holt wasn’t looking, spring had slipped over the Rockies with soft air and green leaves. The only ominous darkness existed inside him. He and Maddy arrived at nine-thirty, in time to observe competitors sign in.

  “Except for the registration packets, you’d think we’d stepped into the Old West,” she said. “And the lack of horses.” Which were all safely stabled far beyond the action and noise.

  The porch on the main house now sported a false-front street scene with a saloon’s swinging door and a general store. Several dozen people in period and Western-movie attire milled around before it on the broad lawn. Welcoming everyone, Will Rafferty glad-handed his way through the crowd.

  Holt watched Maddy eye the six-guns strapped on every hip and the standin
g racks full of Winchester and Marlin lever-guns and double-barrel and pump shotguns. It was obvious what she was thinking. Whether replica or refurbished antique, every firearm was deadly. And anyone here, even Will Rafferty, could be the person hired to kill her.

  Those around the sheriff’s conference room had agreed the killer was someone local. Some uncertainty about that ate at him. No one had been seen in the high meadow or near the Valley-D. And here was Maddy in a crowd of both locals and strangers. Her shoulders shook in a small shudder before she focused her camera on the colorful crowd.

  A woman in a divided skirt and leather vest regaled a huge, mustached man in the blue and gold uniform of the United States Cavalry with her exploits at the last match. A tinhorn gambler in a black Western-cut jacket and string tie stood to one side and surveyed the crowd. Maddy scowled at him as if imagining him plotting his opportunity. Holt could put her mind at rest on that one, at least.

  “Those two are probably swapping lies,” he whispered. “And the gambler’s Doc Warner, Bobby’s pediatrician.”

  “The pediatrician, really? Paranoid, that’s me, seeing bad guys everywhere.” She lifted her chin. “I need to get a grip, think about my job today, whether the three different lenses I brought are adequate.”

  He’d make damned certain she made it through the day alive, even if it meant hovering over her like a Secret Service Agent protecting the First Lady.

  While they people-watched, a Rock County cruiser pulled up and disgorged Sheriff Foley and Luke Rafferty. Agents Bonnyman and Salazar arrived separately and threaded into the crowd. Even Chris Hawke in cavalry scout garb appeared and waved to them. Another undercover DEA agent was supposed to keep an eye on Luke, although Holt had suggested they confront the deputy with their suspicions.

  When Maddy spied Luke, she nudged Holt. “You were going to tell me what the DEA uncovered about him.”

  “He didn’t leave Denver in disgrace after all. Luke’s partner was killed during a raid on a gas station stick-up suspect. No one but Luke blamed Luke for his partner’s death, although that’s why he resigned and came home.”