Standoff at Mustang Ridge

by Delores Fossen

  Royce cursed when he saw the man step out from the back of the barn. The guy hadn’t been there just seconds earlier when Royce had gone through the door to get to Sophie. But he was there now.

  And he had a gun pointed right at Sophie and him.

  Royce fired even though he was certain he didn’t have a steady shot, and in the same motion, he dragged Sophie to the ground so she wouldn’t be in the direct path if the guy returned fire.

  He didn’t.

  It didn’t take Royce long to realize why. The other gunman who’d been at the front of the barn now raced around the corner, behind Sophie and him. He was still armed, and he pointed his weapon at them.

  Sophie and he were trapped.

  Hell.

  Royce had known it wasn’t much of a plan for him to try to get her out of there, but he’d had to try. He couldn’t just stand by while these goons kidnapped her.

  And he was certain that’s what they were planning to do.

  Kidnap her and force her to tell them where those duplicate papers were that she’d hidden. Except he was pretty sure that the only copy of that land deal was now in the hands of the attacker who’d come from the back of the barn.

  Royce covered Sophie’s body with his. Trying to protect her. And he studied the man who was now making his way toward them. He didn’t walk with the same air as the others. There was a confidence. No, make that arrogance.

  This guy was the boss.

  Too bad Royce couldn’t see his face. Also too bad it could be any of their suspects. If he could pinpoint which one, he might have a better chance of negotiating their way out of this dangerous mess.

  Especially if it was Eldon or Stanton.

  Royce could maybe play the family card and remind them that Sophie was blood. It might also mean her life wasn’t in as much danger as he’d thought it was since either Eldon or Stanton would probably indeed let her go once they made sure there were no other copies of those papers.

  Other than an out-and-out escape, that was the best-case scenario here. For Sophie, anyway. The gunmen had already made it clear that they’d planned to kill him. Royce didn’t think they would automatically change their minds about that, either. He was a loose end they couldn’t afford to keep around.

  The man in front of them aimed his gun. Not at Royce. But at Sophie, and he tipped his head to the gunman behind them.

  “Put down your weapon,” the lackey ordered Royce. “If not, I’ll blow a hole in your lady friend’s arm. It won’t kill her, but it won’t feel too good, either.”

  Royce glanced at both men, and there was nothing in their body language to indicate that was a bluff. They would indeed shoot Sophie. He had no choice but to toss his gun onto the ground, but he kept it close.

  Still within reach.

  Of course, either of those men could get off a shot before Royce could get his gun back in his hands, but maybe he could create some kind of distraction.

  “Let Royce go,” he heard Sophie say. “And I’ll take you to the papers.”

  Royce cursed again and shot her a “stay quiet” glare.

  Which she ignored.

  “If you hurt him,” she said to the man who stopped directly in front of them, “then I’ll never give you those papers.”

  The man said nothing, but he did look at the other gunman who was behind Sophie and him.

  “Want me to go ahead and take care of him?” the man asked his boss.

  “No!” Sophie practically shouted. She pushed herself away from Royce, wriggling out from the meager cover that his body was providing for her, and she got to her feet. “I meant it. If Royce dies, you don’t get what you want.”

  She looked back at Royce as he, too, got to his feet. There was worry etched on every part of her face and in her eyes, and that worry went up a huge notch when her attention landed on the blood on the jacket. The blood flow had slowed down significantly, thank God, but he was sure he looked like a man in need of serious medical attention.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sophie whispered to him, probably because she was still blaming herself for all of this.

  But Royce was blaming the man in front of them.

  “Let me guess,” Royce said to that man. “You’re Milton Wells, the guy who signed that illegal land deal. Of course Milton Wells is just an alias, isn’t it?”

  That wasn’t exactly speculation since neither Kade Ryland nor Royce had been able to locate any info about the man.

  “You’re probably guessing—rightfully so—that eventually I’ll figure out who Milton Wells really is,” Royce added. “And that’s why you want to kill me.”

  Sophie’s eyes widened, and she tossed glances at all three of them. Hopefully, she realized now that it wouldn’t do any good for her to go with them. If she did, it would just make it easier for them to kill her once they figured out that she couldn’t give them what they wanted.

  She turned back to the man in front of them, her gaze traveling from his head to his boots. No doubt trying to figure out if it was her brother behind that mask.

  “It’s either Stanton or Agent Lott,” Royce said, going with his theory that this was someone who’d posed as Milton Wells. “Because your father and Travis had already signed the document.”

  Of course, it could still be one of them, but Royce thought he saw a slight change in the boss’s body language. Just a hint of movement that made Royce believe he’d hit the proverbial nail on the head.

  “Lott,” Royce said. “I know it’s you.”

  The man certainly didn’t confirm it. Neither did his hired gun that still had a Glock pointed right at Sophie’s arm. The seconds crawled by.

  And the man finally cursed.

  “This shouldn’t have been this hard,” he mumbled, adding more profanity. It was enough for Royce to recognize the speaker.

  Agent Lott pulled off the mask, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. “If you think that knowing my identity will save you,” Lott growled, “then think again. One way or another, I will get those papers from Sophie.”

  “Oh, mercy,” she murmured.

  She didn’t sound relieved that it wasn’t a family member trying to kill them, probably because she knew just how dangerous a rogue agent could be. Lott had the shooting skills and the backup to gun them both down. And Sophie and he didn’t exactly have a lot going for them. No gun, and his shoulder was practically numb from the pain and blood loss.

  But Royce had something Lott didn’t.

  The will to keep Sophie alive. The agent was doing this to cover his butt and his illegal activity, but Royce was fighting for Sophie’s life.

  “Sophie will go with you,” Royce said to Lott.

  It was a lie. Well, hopefully. Royce didn’t want Lott to get Sophie out of his sight, but he needed some kind of diversion. Better yet, he needed one or both of those guns aimed away from them.

  Sophie shook her head and caught on to Royce’s arm. “They’ll kill you,” she whispered.

  They’d try. Royce would try to stop that, too.

  He moved closer to Sophie, brushing his mouth over hers. “Play along,” Royce whispered.

  “Touching,” Lott complained. “But I don’t have time for a lovers’ goodbye.” He motioned with his gun for Sophie to follow him. “Come on.”

  She looked at Royce again, her eyes silently asking him what to do, and he glanced toward the side of the barn to that gaping hole. If possible, he wanted her through there. No, it wouldn’t be much protection, but it might keep her out of the line of fire when he went for his gun on the ground.

  Sophie gave a shaky nod, hopefully understanding what he wanted her to do. While he was hoping, Royce added that she would duck inside the barn for cover and not try to save him.

  “Goodbye,” she whispered. And then she turned as if she might indeed leave with Lott.

  The agent reached out to take her arm. But he missed. Because Sophie screamed at the top of her voice and lunged toward the opening in the barn.

 
Royce dropped to the ground just as the shot blasted through the air.

  * * *

  SOPHIE DIDN’T HAVE TIME to make it through the hole in the barn. She’d tried to create a distraction by screaming, but it hadn’t worked.

  Lott had fired.

  At Royce.

  Without thinking, she turned and dove at the agent. Even though he was a lot larger than she was, she had speed and fury on her side. Sophie slammed into him, catching him off balance, and sending them both crashing to the ground.

  Lott cursed, calling her a vile name, and he flipped her onto her back as if she weighed nothing. But Sophie didn’t give up. She latched on to his right wrist with both of her hands and held on, digging her fingernails into his bare flesh.

  She heard the movement. The scuffle. And she prayed that Royce hadn’t been hit, that he was able to fight off the other gunman. But Royce was already hurt.

  Maybe worse.

  The thought of that broke her heart into a million little pieces. Royce had done so much to keep her safe, and here he was risking everything for her. That only made Sophie fight harder.

  Lott fought harder, too. Probably because he knew if he didn’t stop her and Royce that he’d spend the rest of his life in jail. Not a good outcome for a federal agent. He pinned her legs to the ground. Her body, as well. And he punched her in the jaw with his left hand.

  The pain shot through her, and Sophie could have sworn she saw stars.

  Somehow, despite the pain, she managed to hang on to Lott’s wrist, and she clamped on the back of his hand with her teeth. Lott howled in pain and tried to bash her away from him.

  Even over the roaring in her ears, Sophie heard Royce. He was cursing, too. And then she heard something she didn’t want to hear.

  A cracking sound.

  And someone yelled in pain.

  Because the adrenaline and the pain were pumping through her, it took her several moments to figure out that it wasn’t Royce who had yelled but the other gunman.

  She looked past Lott, not easy to do with him trying to wrestle his shooting hand away from her, and she saw Royce coming directly toward them. He had his gun in his hand, and in addition to his shoulder, his head was bleeding.

  “Stay back!” Lott yelled.

  Until he said that, Sophie hadn’t known that Lott had seen Royce, too. But he had. Lott bashed her in the face again, and when her head flopped back, he snapped his left arm around her and dragged them to a standing position. Even though she kept hold of his wrist, that didn’t stop Lott from twisting the gun until it was pointed at Royce.

  “If you keep struggling, Sophie,” Lott said. “Royce dies here and now.”

  Lott left no room for doubt in his voice, so Sophie’s grip melted off his wrist.

  Now that she was facing Royce, she had no trouble seeing all the nicks and cuts on his face—no doubt from the fight with the gunman. She hadn’t heard a shot, so Royce had probably knocked the guy unconscious. That was good except for the fact that Lott still controlled the situation. As long as he had Royce in the crosshairs of his gun, she couldn’t do anything to risk him shooting.

  Royce was just a few feet in front of them.

  There was no way Lott could miss.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way,” Royce said. He kept his gun aimed at Lott, but she doubted he had a clean shot because she was literally in his line of fire.

  “It does,” Lott argued. He tightened his grip on Sophie and started to back away. He was trying to escape with her.

  No!

  That couldn’t happen. She might be able to stall him for a little while, but eventually he’d kill her. Of course, her more immediate concern was for Royce.

  He followed Lott and her.

  “You’ll get some jail time,” Royce tried again. “And with a good lawyer, maybe not even much of that.”

  She felt Lott shake his head. “Travis is dead. I killed him, but I haven’t had time to set up the evidence to frame you.”

  “Travis is dead?” Sophie asked.

  “Yeah. He was blackmailing me about that land deal. Not a good idea.”

  That robbed her of her breath. Not because Sophie cared for Travis. No, he was scum. But it meant Lott was a killer now. First-degree murder, and he would no doubt do anything to make sure he wasn’t arrested for something that would get him the death penalty. It let her know just how desperate, and dangerous, this man was.

  “Hard to set me up for a murder when I’m dead,” Royce reminded him.

  “Hard, yes, but it’s doable,” Lott argued. “When those two men regain consciousness, they’ll clean up the mess and plant your body where it needs to be. It’ll look as if you got into a gunfight with Travis.”

  Royce shook his head. “If Travis is already dead, that’ll be a tough sell. A good CSI will be able to determine that the times of death don’t match.”

  “Yeah, if it weren’t for this cold weather.”

  God, that was probably true. Besides, as a federal agent, Lott knew how to stage the evidence. That’s why Sophie had to do something.

  But what?

  She’d already lost one scuffle with Lott, and while Royce was still armed, he was hurt and didn’t look too steady on his feet. And then Sophie saw something that made their situation go from bad to worse.

  One of the gunmen on the ground groaned and stirred. It wouldn’t be long before he got up, ready to help his boss commit another murder or two.

  “Plus, you have other loose ends,” Royce said. He, too, was keeping an eye on those men. “That confidential informant you told us about. What if he gets scared and tells all?”

  “He won’t know to tell,” Lott answered. “Because he didn’t know he was an informant. It was Stanton, and I had him followed. That’s how I knew he’d drugged Sophie and you.”

  “And I guess it didn’t occur to you to stop him?” Sophie asked.

  Lott lifted his shoulder. “Sometimes, those things play out in a man’s favor. I figured if Stanton accidentally killed one of you with a drug overdose, I could blackmail him into doing whatever I wanted—including getting me those papers.”

  He was beyond sick. Their lives were nothing to him. And with his two goons stirring and ready to get up, Lott would no doubt unleash them first on Royce.

  Then, her.

  Sophie didn’t think. Without warning, she dropped down, jerking Lott down with her. They didn’t hit the ground like before, but he wobbled.

  Royce dove at them.

  He pushed Sophie out of the way and rammed right into Lott. They fell onto the ground, and the fight started instantly. Both of them were jockeying for position and trying to disarm the other.

  Sophie hated the thought of Royce being injured further, but she had to do something to stop that gunman who was already trying to sit up. She raced to her gun, scooped it up and pointed it right at him.

  “Move and I’ll shoot,” she warned, and it wasn’t a bluff. She would indeed shoot the man rather than let him try to help his boss.

  Sophie gathered both of the gunmen’s weapons and tossed them inside the hole in the barn wall. That freed up her hands so that she could keep her own gun aimed and maybe help Royce.

  Lott and he were delivering punches. Hard ones. And Sophie nearly screamed when she saw blood fly through the air and land on the snow. Royce already had too many injuries, and God knows what this was doing to his gunshot wound.

  It could be killing him.

  She stood there, volleying glances between the gunmen and the fight. Trying to decide what to do. Her heart was pounding. Her head racing with the worst thoughts possible.

  She couldn’t lose Royce.

  Sophie was ready to dive into the fray, but the sound stopped her cold.

  A thick blast.

  It echoed through the air. Through her. And it made her blood turn to ice.

  That’s because someone, either Lott or Royce, had fired the shot.

  Her breath vanished, and it took every
ounce of her willpower just to stay on her feet. She prayed. Waited. And she saw Royce roll off Lott and to the side. He landed hard on his back on the ground.

  She kept her gun pointed at the gunmen, but she ran to him, terrified of what she might see. There was more blood. Too much. And for several horrifying moments, she thought he’d been shot again.

  “I’m okay,” Royce said, his breath gusting.

  Sophie shook her head, not believing him. He couldn’t be okay, not with all that blood on his jacket.

  Royce got to his feet, not easily, but she latched on to his arm and helped him get up. That’s when she realized Lott hadn’t moved. She looked down at the agent and spotted the source of the blood.

  On Lott’s chest.

  He wasn’t moving, and his eyes were fixed in a blank, dead stare.

  “It’s all right,” Royce whispered to her. He took the gun from her, aimed it at the gunmen, and with his left arm he pulled her to him. “It’s all right,” he repeated.

  And Sophie was on the verge of believing him.

  Until she felt Royce collapse against her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Royce tried not to make any sounds of pain or discomfort while the nurse stitched him up. That’s because he knew Sophie was in the exam room next to him, and he didn’t want her to hear anything else today that would add to her already raw nerves.

  His nerves were certainly raw, too. Partly because of the attack that could have easily left Sophie and him dead. Also because he was berating himself for falling for the stupid ruse that Lott had created. The dirty agent had said he was going to arrest Sophie’s father because he’d known it would send them racing back to town on the only road they could have used to get to Mustang Ridge.

  It had turned out to be a bad mistake.

  And it had nearly cost him Sophie.

  That in itself was bad enough, but now Royce’s nerves were raw for a different reason. When Dr. Amos Jenkins had taken Sophie into the adjoining room to examine her, Royce had been able to hear them talking. He hadn’t heard exactly what they were saying, but just the sound of Sophie’s murmurings had given Royce some reassurance that even though she was shaken up, she was okay.