Standoff at Mustang Ridge

by Delores Fossen

  “I didn’t need your permission,” Lott said. “This is a federal case.”

  “How’d you figure that? The shooting happened within the Mustang Ridge jurisdiction.”

  Lott pulled back his shoulders. “Sophie is a protected witness in my investigation.”

  “But the shooting might not have had anything to do with that investigation,” Royce countered. “I haven’t determined that yet.”

  “Investigate all you want, but Sophie’s coming with me.” Lott latched on to her arm, and Sophie automatically threw off his grip. Maybe she was reacting to the bad day she’d had, but she didn’t like this territorial attitude.

  Lott looked as if she’d slapped him. “You’re siding with this local yokel?”

  Now it was her shoulders that came back, and she stepped in front of Royce. Sophie didn’t think he’d actually punch the agent, but it was clear he was having to hold on to his temper.

  Sophie, too.

  She’d never seen Lott act this way, and she didn’t like it. He was reminding her too much of Travis.

  “Did you hear what Royce said?” she asked Lott. “This attack might not be related to Travis or the papers I’ve been copying for you.”

  It could all go back to the loan shark. Of course, Royce and she had already learned that this wasn’t Teddy Bonner’s usual way to deal with a delinquent payee, but perhaps Bonner had made an exception in her father’s case.

  “Maybe,” Lott conceded, but he didn’t sound one bit convinced. “I’m working with two likelihoods, and one is that your ex-fiancé hired those men to kidnap you because he knows we’re closing in on him.”

  “You think Travis got suspicious?” Royce asked.

  “It’s possible. Heck, he might have even seen Sophie snooping around his office.”

  Sophie shook her head. “Travis said nothing to me about the investigation.”

  “But you told me you argued with him and broke things off,” Lott said.

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to discuss those alleged photos of Royce and her with Agent Lott. “The argument I had with him was, well, personal.”

  Lott stared at her, as if waiting for more, but she didn’t give it to him.

  Royce stepped to Sophie’s side so he was facing Lott. “What exactly did Travis do to make you go to Sophie and ask her to help?”

  Lott paused so long that Sophie wasn’t sure he was going to answer. “Basically, he’s money laundering through land deals and using that money to buy illegal arms. Forgive me if I don’t give you the specifics, but while Sophie obviously trusts you, I don’t.”

  “You think I’m dirty?” Royce asked.

  Lott shrugged. “It’s occurred to me that Travis had some help. Maybe from local law enforcement.”

  “Not from me.” Royce leaned in. “And not from my brother.”

  Sophie agreed. Jake and Royce were taking huge risks to protect her, and there’s no way Royce would help a man like Travis.

  She silently groaned. Her objectivity was shot. And that wasn’t a good sign. Obviously, that lecture she’d given herself earlier had failed big-time.

  Sophie blew out a weary breath. “You said there were two likelihoods,” she reminded Lott. Maybe the second one wouldn’t involve revealing compromising photos of her and Royce.

  The agent hesitated, dodged her gaze. Definitely not a good sign.

  “What?” Sophie pressed.

  “Your father could have hired those men.” Lott’s attention whipped to Royce. “And before you say that makes it a local case, it doesn’t. Sophie’s father is under federal investigation, too.”

  It felt as if her heart skipped a beat. Royce no doubt knew what this was doing to her because he caught her arm to steady her.

  “I didn’t tell you,” Lott said to her, his voice just barely above a whisper now. “I couldn’t. But it’s possible your father participated in some of those illegal land deals with Travis.”

  He had. Sophie had hidden the papers that would prove it, though. But she had no plans to admit that to Lott. So the agent had two likelihoods to explain the attack, and she was withholding possible evidence for both of them.

  Mercy.

  “Are you saying Sophie’s father sent those kidnappers after her?” Royce asked.

  “I’m saying it’s possible.”

  “It’s not,” Sophie argued. She still trusted her father. Had to. Because she loved him. And that meant this had to go back to Travis.

  Lott turned to her again. “I don’t think your father tried to kill you. Not exactly, anyway. But he might have sent those kidnappers to force you to go through with the marriage.”

  That had already crossed her mind. But Sophie had dismissed it, too. Or rather she’d tried to do that. However, she couldn’t dismiss the fact that her father was desperate.

  “My father borrowed money from a loan shark,” Sophie admitted.

  Lott certainly didn’t look surprised. In fact, he nodded. “Teddy Bonner. Yeah. He didn’t hire those men, either. I wouldn’t want this to get around, but Bonner’s an FBI criminal informant. He might be responsible for an assault every now and then, but he’s not a killer.”

  And that meshed with what the cop in Amarillo had said. Still, Sophie could hold out hope that the culprit was anyone but her father—even if it was related to something he’d done, like borrowing money from a loan shark.

  “You’re not stupid,” Lott said to Sophie. “You must know I can do a better job protecting you than the deputy can. Plus, there’s his safety to consider. He’s already been under fire because of you. Now he’s brought you, and therefore the danger, to his family’s home.”

  It was true.

  She had known that, of course, but it was a powerful reminder to hear it spoken aloud.

  Lott reached for her hand, and this time Sophie didn’t push him away. “We need to leave now,” he insisted. “It’s the safest thing for everyone.”

  “Maybe we should wait for a blood match on the gunman I shot,” Royce interrupted. “His identity could connect us to the person who hired him.”

  “We might not get a match,” Lott countered, dropping his grip on her hand.

  Royce gave him a flat stare. “If he’s a hired gun, he’s probably in the system. Just knowing who he is could tell us a lot about him and maybe his associates, too.”

  “And while we’re waiting on results, the danger doesn’t stop for you or your family.” Lott mumbled a profanity. “Sophie doesn’t need your death on her hands.”

  Her heart was racing now. Breath, too. And she nodded in agreement. “I’ll go with you.” She looked up at Royce. “Think of your family,” she added in a whisper.

  “I have,” Royce insisted. “And those gunmen might show up whether you’re here or not. They know my name, and it wouldn’t be hard to figure out where I live. That’s why I took security measures by having the hands armed and on the lookout.”

  “But this ranch will never be as secure as an FBI safe house.” Lott huffed. “Look, I know Sophie and you had a fling or something, and that’s probably why you feel the need to interject yourself into this.”

  Sophie went still. “A fling?” she repeated at the same moment that Royce said, “Who told you that?”

  She hadn’t mentioned a word to Lott about her encounter with Royce at the Outlaw Bar.

  Lott shoved his hands in his pockets, and he shook his head. “I can’t say.”

  “You mean you won’t,” Royce accused.

  Every muscle in Lott’s face tightened. “All right, I won’t. I got the information from a confidential source.”

  “My brother?” she blurted out.

  Lott didn’t deny it, but she thought she saw something go through his eyes. A confirmation, maybe. Mercy. She really needed to have a talk with Stanton. If he’d sent those pictures to Travis, maybe he’d also told Lott.

  But there was a problem with that theory.

  Stanton didn’t know about the investigation. Or if he d
id, he hadn’t said anything about it. Was her brother in on the investigation, too? And if so, why hadn’t he said a word about it to her?

  “What did your informant tell you about the fling?” Royce asked, and he didn’t ask nicely, either.

  “He told me enough.” And with that vague bit of information, Lott’s narrowed gaze cut to Sophie. “I can’t believe with everything going on, you had unprotected sex with this guy. If you’d just pretended to be the doting fiancée a little bit longer, we could have arrested Travis before he got suspicious.”

  Sophie wasn’t sure what hit her the hardest—the surprise that Lott knew about the pregnancy lie, Lott’s unprofessional attitude or that someone, this confidential source, had talked about her to a federal agent. She opened her mouth to explain to Lott that she wasn’t pregnant, but Royce stepped in front of her again.

  “What happened between us is none of Lott’s business,” Royce assured her. “And it’s damn sure not the business of this so-called confidential informant.”

  Sophie agreed with that, but she thought maybe Royce, too, would like to have her straighten out the lie she’d told. His father had already given him grief about it, and it was only a matter of time before it was all over town.

  Or maybe it already was.

  Even though it was an old-fashioned notion that Royce’s reputation might be hurt, it was possible for that to happen in a small town like Mustang Ridge. After all, he was the deputy sheriff, and it might be harder to do his job if the more conservative residents thought he had drunken one-night stands.

  “None of my business?” Lott repeated, punctuating with some profanity. He opened his mouth to say more, but his phone rang, cutting him off.

  The agent answered the call but stepped away from them. Not that he could step away far. The front part of the house wasn’t that large—a living room on one side, a dining area on the other. But to put some distance between them, Lott moved to the fireplace on the far side of the wall and turned his back to them. He also spoke in a whisper.

  “You trust him?” Royce asked her, whispering as well. Sophie wanted to say yes. After all, Lott was a federal agent, and she’d put herself and others in possible jeopardy by providing him with those incriminating papers about Travis’s land deals. Still, there was something about him that she hadn’t seen before today.

  Desperation, maybe?

  Perhaps he really just wanted Travis arrested and her safe, but Sophie suddenly didn’t feel very safe with him. Just the opposite. She felt as if Lott was trying to bully her into doing what he wanted. That might or might not be the safest thing for her to do.

  “I’d like to stay with you,” she said, her offer tentative. “But I don’t want to put you or your family in any more danger.”

  Royce shook his head. “My niece, Sunny, has some treatments starting first thing tomorrow morning at a hospital in Amarillo. Jake, Maggie and she’ll be up there for a couple of days.”

  Yes, she remembered them talking about it at the sheriff’s office. “But what about your sister, Nell, and your father?”

  “Nell will go to the hospital with the others.”

  So all but his father would be away from the ranch. Away from her. Where they’d be a heck of a lot safer. Still, she didn’t like the idea of Chet being in the possible line of fire. He’d already made it clear that he wasn’t comfortable with her being there.

  “Any chance your father will go to the hospital with the others?” she asked.

  “Possibly.” Royce lifted his shoulder. “Chet and Sunny are close, so he’ll want to be there for at least part of the procedure.” He stared at her. “My advice—don’t insist he leave for safety’s sake. He’s a stubborn man, and that would make him only dig in his heels and stay put.”

  Sophie was afraid of that.

  “Chet can take care of himself,” Royce added. “Don’t let any part of your decision be about him.”

  Hard to do that. Chet might not be likable, but she didn’t want him hurt. But she remembered something else Royce had said. Even if she left, the gunmen might still come to the McCall ranch looking for her.

  She hated that this was yet another situation of being between a rock and a hard place.

  Lott finished his call and turned back toward them. “They found one of the gunmen, wounded but alive.”

  Sophie had braced herself for more bad news, but this was better than she’d expected. “Is he talking?”

  Lott slipped on his mirrored shades and headed for the door. “That’s what I’m about to find out.”

  Royce reached for his coat. “We’ll go with you.”

  “No.” Lott didn’t look back when he opened the door. “The gunman’s in FBI custody, and they have orders not to let you near the place.”

  “Whose orders?” Royce challenged.

  “Mine.” Lott glanced over his shoulder at Sophie. “Are you coming with me? I figured you’d want to find out why this guy tried to kidnap you.”

  Oh, she wanted to know that, but that little niggling feeling in the back of her head got worse. And Sophie hoped she wasn’t about to make this decision—maybe the most important one of her life—because Royce’s kisses had clouded her judgment.

  However, Sophie decided to go with the niggling feeling about Lott. And with trusting Royce.

  “I’m staying here,” she said.

  Because of the shades, she couldn’t see the reaction in Lott’s eyes, but his mouth certainly tightened. “Suit yourself,” he grumbled. “And I hope to hell you don’t get the deputy here killed.”

  Yes. Sophie was hoping the same thing.

  But Sophie thought of something else. Another factor in her decision to stay here at Royce’s house.

  Royce himself and the heat between them.

  Sophie looked at him and figured he was thinking the same thing. Just because she wanted the attraction to go away, it didn’t mean it would. In fact, it was getting stronger. And she’d just agreed to stay under the same roof with the man she couldn’t resist.

  But a man she had to resist.

  Their situation was already dangerous enough without adding more of this fire to the mix. Besides, the fire could also end up being a deadly distraction. Like her, Royce’s attention needed to be on solving this case and making the danger go away. That wouldn’t happen if the kissing started again.

  And kissing wasn’t even the worst of it.

  She wanted him, bad, and she was afraid that need would overrule common sense. If she let it. The trick was to stop that from happening.

  “I need to get some rest,” she told Royce. Not a lie exactly. She was exhausted, but rest would give her more than just, well, rest.

  He tipped his head to the room off the right of the kitchen. “The spare bedroom,” he explained.

  Sophie mumbled a thanks and she practically ran there and shut the door. She needed space and time to think. But most of all, she had to put—and keep—some distance between Royce and her.

  Chapter Eight

  Royce pressed the end call button on his phone and cursed. This was not the start to the day that he wanted. A double dose of bad news.

  Triple, he corrected when he looked at the email that popped into the in-box on his laptop. The investigation hadn’t just stalled, it was going backward.

  He got up from the kitchen table where he’d been working and poured himself another cup of coffee. There’d likely be more cups, too, since he was nursing a wicked headache from the spent adrenaline and the lack of sleep. He’d caught a couple of hours’ sleep. Catnaps, really. But that’s all he’d been able to manage, what with listening for an attack and trying to figure out who wanted Sophie dead.

  There was no shortage of suspects, either—Travis, Stanton, her father. Maybe even the loan shark Teddy Bonner. Royce didn’t want to add Agent Lott to that mental list, but he didn’t trust the man.

  With reason.

  The second bit of bad news Royce had gotten confirmed his suspicions about th
e agent. Now, the question was—what was he going to do about it?

  He automatically reached for his gun when he heard the hurried footsteps. It took Royce a split second to remember that he wasn’t alone. And that he had a houseguest.

  Sophie.

  The main reason he hadn’t slept well.

  She hurried into the kitchen and came to a sliding stop on the tiled floor. She had on a pair of black socks and pajamas. His clothing items. The pj’s practically swallowed her but somehow managed to skim her body, too.

  Royce forced himself not to notice that.

  “Sorry. I don’t usually sleep this late.” Sophie pushed her hair from her face, but it tumbled right back into a sexy heap that pooled on the tops of her shoulders. “You should have woke me up.”

  “No reason. You needed to rest.” He took out another cup and poured her some coffee.

  “But you’ve been working, and I should be helping you.” She tipped her head to the laptop and made a sound of approval when she drank some of the coffee. “Any updates on the investigation?”

  Royce had hoped she wouldn’t ask about that until at least she’d had her coffee, because she might need a clear head to process everything he needed to tell her—especially since it was all bad. He decided to start with the easiest item of bad news, but then stopped when he saw the SUV drive away from the main ranch house.

  Sophie hurried to the window, her gaze following his. “Your brother?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Nell, Maggie and he are leaving for Sunny’s appointment at the hospital.”

  And that meant Jake was unable to help with the investigation. Not that Royce wanted Jake here, because his brother already had enough to keep him busy. Still, Royce wouldn’t have minded having another pair of eyes and ears on the information he’d just learned.

  “You said they wouldn’t be back for several days?” Sophie moved next to him, her arm against his. A reminder of the day before. A reminder of the kiss, too.

  Royce didn’t move. He stood there, knowing full well that it wasn’t a good idea to be this close to Sophie. She had bedroom hair, bedroom eyes and a mouth he wanted in his bedroom. The rest of her, too.