by Diana Palmer
“Yeah, he has that effect on a lot of people.” Barton nodded.
“I don’t remember Calhoun,” Mikey commented. “I guess he was after my time.”
“He came in about the time they transferred you from Afghanistan to Iraq,” Ren replied.
“Wasn’t a willing transfer,” Mikey said. “Even my general couldn’t pull enough strings to keep me on the base. I hated Iraq,” he added. “They put my squad in charge of ferrying political heavyweights around the city. We didn’t lose any politicians, but we lost two of our best guys in an IED attack.”
“Nasty business,” Ren said. “I was in charge of a sniper unit in Iraq.”
“Which is where we met him,” Barton said.
“Shots rang out and I called on a live frequency to ask who was the SOB who almost shot my head off when I was headed to base.” Ren smiled sheepishly. “Turned out the SOB—” he indicated Barton “—took out a sniper I didn’t even see who had me targeted from behind. I apologized profusely.”
“You did not,” Barton argued.
Ren shrugged. “I said that I might have said a few things I shouldn’t,” he hedged.
“Coming from him, it’s an apology.” Mikey chuckled.
Barton grinned. “No argument.”
Ren turned back to Sari. “I’m staying with Merrie. I’ll sleep standing up against a wall if I have to, but I’m not leaving this hospital.”
“Nobody asked you to,” Sari replied. She drew in a long breath. “Thanks, Ren. Thanks for coming all this way. And for giving Merrie an incentive to wake up.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “I’ve got a lot of making up to do. I just want enough time to do it.”
“That doctor’s pretty good,” Mikey commented.
“He was good to us when we had to come here for treatment,” Sari said with a smile. “Merrie and I were in his office a lot, too.”
“Why?” Ren asked, curious.
“Our father could be brutal. We had several incidents while we were both in school,” Sari said bitterly.
Ren frowned. “He doesn’t sound like much of a father.”
“Believe me, he wasn’t,” Sari replied.
Ren deduced that there was a lot he still didn’t know about Meredith. He was just happy that he had a chance to start over with her.
* * *
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, they were still in the waiting room. Dr. Coltrain was cautiously optimistic. Sari and Ren had taken turns going in to see her during the very few visiting periods they were allowed while she was still in the intensive care unit.
At midnight, Sari and Paul insisted that Ren come home with them.
“She’s going to be all right, but you won’t be if you don’t get some rest,” Paul said firmly. “We’ll go back first thing in the morning.”
Ren finally gave in. He hadn’t slept in days. “They’ll call you if something happens with her?” He looked in the direction of the nurses’ station.
“Yes, they’ll call us,” Sari assured him. “They have both our cell phone numbers.”
“But it doesn’t matter,” Paul said with a smile.
“It doesn’t?” Ren asked blankly.
Paul nodded toward the door. Mikey walked in with Mandy at his side. She smiled at them and sat down in the waiting room with a big bag of knitting.
“I’ll be right here if she needs anything,” Mandy said. “Now go home and get some sleep,” she added, including all of them in her sweeping gaze. “Nothing will happen to my baby while I’m here.”
“Or me,” Mikey added, sitting beside her. “Gotta protect the cook, right?” he asked, grinning at Mandy. “Best roast beef I ever ate.”
Mandy blushed. “Oh, Mr. Mikey,” she protested.
“Best cook in Texas,” Paul added, bending to kiss Mandy’s cheek. “Thanks, honey.”
“I knew you’d never leave if somebody in the family didn’t stay here,” Mandy said. “Get some sleep. I’ll call if there’s any change at all. But there won’t be. She’s got a reason to live, now,” she added, glancing warmly at Ren.
“All right,” Sari said. She hugged Mandy. “If you need anything...”
“If she does, I’ll go get it for her.” Mikey chuckled. “Go home.”
They left, still uneasy, but too tired to do much arguing.
* * *
REN’S FIRST SIGHT of Graylings took his breath away. “She said she lived on a small ranch,” he said as he gaped at the huge mansion, all its lights shining bright and welcoming in the darkness past the white fences and tall mesquite and oak trees.
“It is small, by Texas standards,” Sari said with a weary smile. “But we have some of the most famous racehorses in the world. And some great security. FBI approved,” she added with a grin at her husband.
“I seem to do better on security than I do on limo drivers,” Paul said wryly.
“It was a fluke,” Sari said. “He slipped through with some shady support. You couldn’t have known.”
“Dead right,” Barton agreed, sitting in the seat beside Ren, facing Paul and Sari. “Any background check wouldn’t have found anything. I’m assuming the contract killer set up the identity check. The guy from Houston sure wasn’t smart. What sort of would-be assassin leaves the rental slip for the truck in the glove compartment, for heaven’s sake?”
“A clumsy one,” Paul said. “And it’s going to cost him.”
“Count on it,” Sari agreed. “When we catch him, Mr. Kemp will turn him any which way but loose.”
“He certainly will,” Paul said.
* * *
ROGERS PULLED THE LIMO up to the front door. They all got out and Paul unlocked the door, swinging it open to polished oak floors with Persian carpets and a crystal chandelier handmade in Italy.
Ren whistled softly. Skyhorn Ranch had comfortable furnishings, but nothing as fancy as this. He noted that two paintings on the wall, which looked like originals, were crooked.
Sari noticed him staring at them. “I did that one,” she said, indicating a landscape with a racehorse in the foreground. “Merrie did that one.” She indicated a painting of a golden retriever.
“You paint?” Ren asked.
“I move the paintings so that they aren’t straight,” Sari said, and her face tautened. “Revenge.”
“Their father was a perfectionist,” Paul explained.
Ren shook his head. “I’ve got a painting in my office that’s looked like that for ages. Putting it straight isn’t a priority,” he added with a grin.
“Come on up and I’ll loan you a pair of pj’s,” Paul offered. “I don’t guess you took time to pack anything.”
“Nothing,” Ren agreed. “I went straight to the airport the minute Randall told me Meredith was in the hospital.”
One glance at his rigid features was enough to make them understand how he’d felt. He still had anguish in his eyes.
“Let’s go up,” Paul said. “Rogers and Barton will keep watch.”
Ren followed the couple up the long winding staircase. “The dog was Meredith’s, wasn’t it?” Ren asked. “The one in the painting downstairs.”
“Yes,” Sari said. She paused and turned. “She told you?”
He nodded. “No one has ever hurt an animal on my place. We had a new hire who beat a horse. He could barely get to his truck when I got through with him. I had him arrested and I pressed charges for animal cruelty.” He shook his head. “Never understood how anyone could hurt a helpless animal.”
Sari just smiled. Apparently her baby sister had picked a winner. Unless it was just guilt that had brought Ren all the way from Wyoming in such a rush that he didn’t even stop to pack a suitcase. She admired that haste in him. It proved that whatever he felt for her sister, it was
strong.
* * *
REN HADN’T EXPECTED to sleep, but he did. The bed they gave him was a king-size one, in a bedroom twice the size of the one he slept in at Skyhorn. He was so tired that he probably wouldn’t have minded a twin bed that his feet hung off of. He’d often slept on the ground in Iraq, using a rock for a pillow.
He woke at daylight. He was used to early hours on the ranch. After a quick shower, he phoned Willis to find out what was happening back home.
“Had a little excitement here,” Willis said, a whimsical note in his voice.
“What sort?” Ren asked.
“Well, Snowpaw flushed out an intruder.”
Ren’s heart jumped. “Was he carrying a sniper rifle?”
“Hell! How did you know that, boss?”
“I’m psychic,” Ren drawled. “What happened?”
“Snowpaw took off after him, snarling all the way. Even on three legs, he was quicker than the man. He took him down and mauled him a little before he got away. He managed to swipe up the rifle on the way. Jumped a fence flat-footed to escape Snowpaw. The killer was aiming the damned thing at him when I shot at him.”
“Did you hit him?” Ren asked.
“No such luck. It was dark and I don’t use the rifle that often. But I think I nicked his jacket. It was enough to make him run.”
Ren was livid. It was just as Paul had suggested. The hit man had staked out Skyhorn, thinking Meredith was still there. Apparently his cousin in Texas who’d hit the limo Meredith was in hadn’t been able to contact him yet. The driver was probably still in hiding, if he wasn’t looking for a doctor. Considering the mess the truck was in, the man driving it had at least some injuries.
“When did this happen?” Ren asked.
“Last night, about midnight. We searched this morning and found a couple of places where he’d hunkered down. Near the house, too.”
“On the side where Meredith’s bedroom was,” Ren guessed.
“Maybe you really are psychic,” Willis teased.
“Not likely. Get J.C. and a couple of the boys out there and have them stake out every single place a sniper could possibly camp. I doubt he’ll be back, but he might be.”
“We’ll do it. How is Miss Meredith?”
“Not well. But she’s still alive, at least, and they think she’ll be all right.”
“Hell of a thing, somebody hurting that sweet little woman,” Willis said. “Snowpaw loved her. He hates women as a rule.”
“I noticed. Keep things running smoothly while I’m away. I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I’m not leaving until Meredith is completely out of danger.”
“Will do, boss. Be safe.”
“You, too.”
* * *
REN WENT DOWN to breakfast. He wished he’d brought a change of clothing, but that was no problem. He’d go shopping when he took a lunch break. He had no intention of leaving Jacobsville anytime soon.
Mandy was home, bringing in platters of eggs and bacon and biscuits to the dining room table.
“Meredith’s doing well. And Mikey’s still there,” she told Ren when he joined them. “Sit down and eat before you go back to the hospital.”
“Thanks,” Ren said, smiling at her.
“I love her, too,” Mandy said, amused at his ruddy cheekbones when she said it. She finished putting food on the table.
“Did you sleep?” Paul asked.
“Not much,” Ren confessed. “I called Willis at my ranch this morning. They flushed out a man with a sniper rifle, who was camped out near Meredith’s room,” he added grimly.
“So he doesn’t know yet.” Paul nodded.
“Apparently not. At least, he didn’t know last night.”
“Did your men shoot him?” Sari asked.
“Nicked his jacket. But Snowpaw mauled him a bit on the way.”
“Snowpaw?” Paul asked.
“Willis’s wolf.” He smiled sadly. “The first time he saw Meredith, he went straight to her and put his head in her lap, let her pet him.” He shook his head. “No other woman on the place could ever get near him.”
“That would explain the wolf drawing in her sketch pad that she brought home,” Sari mentioned. “The wolf only had three legs.”
Ren nodded as he helped himself to eggs and bacon. “Bear trap. We don’t use them, but we have a neighbor who does. After Willis went to have a ‘talk’ with him, he stopped using bear traps.” He smiled. “Willis has a temper almost as bad as J. C. Calhoun does.”
“Pretty name. The wolf’s, I mean,” Sari added.
“He’s named for a fictional wolf in the online computer game ‘World of Warcraft,’” Ren told her. “Willis plays. There’s a quest where you have to avenge an orc whose family was killed by ogres. When you complete it, the orc’s wolf, Snowpaw, goes home with you to live. It’s a sad sort of quest.”
“Do you play?” Paul asked.
Ren shook his head. “Don’t have time for gaming, or much else. I’m too busy running the ranch.”
“I had six calls waiting for me on my iPhone when we got home last night,” Paul said, smiling. “All from my colleagues. Even the Special Agent in Charge messaged me. Great group of guys.”
Sari agreed. “Family is big with them.”
“They’ve all got kids. Even the SAC.” Paul chuckled. He glanced at Sari lovingly. “We’re going to try having kids when things settle down around here. Right now, we’re focusing on our careers. Sari’s an amazing prosecutor.”
Ren looked around at the lavish furnishings. He shook his head. “All this, and you both work?”
“You’re not starving yourself, I hear,” Paul noted, having checked the rancher out much previously. “You work. And at harder stuff than either of us do.”
“When I started building up the ranch,” he said. “work became everything to me. I only slowed down when I got engaged, about six months ago.” His face hardened. “I thought she was crazy about me. Turns out she was only crazy about my money. When I found out, she went on social media to get even.” He smiled sadly. “I took Meredith to a party with me, the night you came to get her,” he told Paul, and his eyes were dark with regret. “She took my ex-fiancée down in a heartbeat, and never used a single cussword. In fact, she sent her running.” His jaw tautened as he recalled what came after. “I was gun-shy,” he confessed. “Convinced myself that Meredith was like Angie, because I thought she was one of Randall’s women, too.” He shook his head. “Biggest mistake of my life.”
“We all make mistakes,” Paul said, recalling his own rough road to the altar. He looked at Sari with soft, loving eyes. “Sometimes we get lucky, and we have time enough to correct them.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Ren said. “Second chances.”
“She’s going to be...” Sari stopped, because her phone was ringing. She answered it. “Hello?”
Her eyes brightened. “Thanks, Mikey. Thanks! Yes, I’ll tell Paul.” She hung up. “Merrie’s still doing okay. And they caught him!”
“They caught who?” Paul asked.
“The guy driving the truck!”
“Where have they got him?” Paul asked. “I want a word with him.”
“I want several,” Ren seconded, and his expression was ice-cold.
Sari grimaced. “Houston PD got him,” she said. “Early this morning. One of Mikey’s contacts phoned him. Apparently the would-be hit man felt confident enough to go home. He—” she indicated Paul “—had a BOLO out for him. Houston PD drove right up to his front door and arrested him.”
“Great.” Paul sighed. “Now we can all argue jurisdiction until one of his buddies comes and bails him out.”
“What if he called the killer in Wyoming and told him, before he was arrested?”
Sari asked. “What then?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“WE’VE GOT THE best security in Texas on the job,” Paul reminded Sari. “Plus we have the Avengers.”
Ren laughed softly.
“Well, that’s what we call them,” Paul said sheepishly. “You know, Barton and Rogers. In the comic books and the movies, Barton was Hawkeye and Rogers was Captain America.”
“They’re good,” Ren had to agree. “Who is this guy Eb Scott, who loaned them to you? Meredith mentioned him to me.”
“Eb has a counterterrorism school here in Jacobsville. It’s well-known in defense circles. He trains all sorts of people. Even,” Sari added with pursed lips, “it’s rumored, people from our own government. He has state-of-the-art everything. He’s a retired merc. So are most of the people who teach at his school.”
“I hadn’t heard of it. On the other hand,” Ren sighed, “I keep to myself. The ranch is pretty isolated from the real world. We mostly watch movies on DVD or pay-per-view.” He hesitated, smiling, his eyes faraway. “I had videos of branding cattle on the ranch. Meredith was watching them while she knitted. Surprised me. She doesn’t look like the sort of woman who could bear such things. She’s fragile, in a way. But very strong in others.”
“She’s tough,” Sari said. “Daddy would never let us near the bloodstock. We rode rocking horses around the ranch.” She laughed at Ren’s expression. “Old horses, not purebred ones. He did raise a few quarter horses for sale, but not for long. He fired the only employee we had who knew how to breed them. After that, he went back to Thoroughbreds. Paul and I have revived the quarter horse breeding here, though.”
“We keep a lot of saddle horses. It’s a big ranch, and we have to have several strings of quarter horses to herd cattle,” Ren replied.
“You run Angus, don’t you?” Sari asked.
“Purebred Black Angus,” he agreed. “Just herd sires and cows and heifers. No beef cattle. I love beef,” he added. “But I don’t like to raise it.” He smiled a little sheepishly. “Hard to eat something you raised from a calf.”
