“That’s true.” Not from lack of trying, though. The investigation had been a priority for his foster brothers. And now for Clayton. “But I thought you’d be able to help with that.”
Lenora quickly shook her head. “I can’t. I have no idea who’s behind this.”
“I’m not sure I believe that.”
The pulse in her throat jumped, but before she could repeat her denial, Clayton walked closer, his cowboy boots thudding on the scarred hardwood floors of the old church.
Lenora backed up, and she pulled the sides of the coat closer, hugging it against her body. “You’re accusing me of lying.”
“Yeah,” he readily admitted, and he held out his phone so she could see the video that he’d loaded. “The diner where I was shot doesn’t have a security camera, but there were plenty of them on the Marshals building across the street.”
And thanks to one of those cameras, he could show her the footage of them sitting down in the booth directly in front of the window.
“I understand we sat in that particular spot so I could watch for the black truck that I thought had been following you,” he explained.
She nodded but didn’t say anything. Lenora just watched. There was no audio, but it was clear that Lenora and he were talking in the diner. Clayton waited until the feed got to the first stopping point, then paused the video. He zoomed into his expression.
“I don’t need a body-language expert to tell me that I’m surprised there. Shocked, actually.” He dipped his head down slightly, forcing eye contact. “What did you say to me to put that look on my face?”
She didn’t glance away this time. He was watching her closely. It seemed as if she was having a serious debate with herself—a debate that didn’t turn out well for Clayton, because he saw the exact moment when she decided to lie.
“I can’t remember specifically what I said, but we were talking about the break-ins at the place where I used to live.”
He didn’t doubt that had come up in conversation—Clayton had read the reports of both break-ins—but since he’d already known about them before Lenora showed up at his office that morning, there probably wasn’t much she could have told him that would have shocked him.
So why was she lying?
This was one area where Harlan hadn’t been able to help. His brother had been in the office the morning of the visit, but he hadn’t been privy to what Lenora and he had discussed. Too bad. Because Clayton had the feeling that it was more than important, and he wasn’t letting her out of his sight until he had answers.
Clayton hit Play on the video, and they watched in silence. Well, verbal silence anyway. Lenora was glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He was doing the same, trying to remember anything and everything about her. She certainly didn’t feel like a stranger. And her scent...
That was familiar, too.
Maybe it was his imagination, but that scent seemed to trigger other things. Like the memory of her taste. But that couldn’t have happened. According to every report he’d read, the first time he met Lenora and her friend Jill was when they’d been placed in his protective custody. He wouldn’t have kissed a woman on the job.
Maybe afterward.
After Jill had been murdered. After her shooter had been arrested and put behind bars. Yeah, he could maybe see it happening then, if Lenora had landed in his arms so he could comfort her.
But had they done that?
And if so, why hadn’t Lenora admitted it?
He heard the slight shiver of her breath and looked down at the screen. Their recorded conversation was over, and both had noticed the approaching black truck. Though it was damn hard to watch, Clayton did. And he saw the impact of the bullet as it slammed into his head.
Lenora turned away, or rather started to do that, but Clayton caught her arm, keeping her in place. “Watch,” he insisted.
She did, but from the corner of her eye, and it seemed as if she was genuinely horrified by what she was seeing. Him, slumped against the table, and her, grabbing his gun to return fire.
Clayton hit Pause again the second she pulled the trigger.
It was a clear image of not just the truck but of Lenora. The way she was holding the gun. The expression on her face. The precision with which she returned fire.
“There are only two types of people who react that way in a life-or-death situation,” he said. “Law enforcement and criminals.”
She didn’t ask which he thought she was and didn’t deny his conclusion. Lenora mumbled something, shook her head and walked away from him.
“I need some air,” she said. Before he could stop her, she went to the side door just a few feet away and threw it open.
The hot July sunlight speared through the tiny church.
Clayton couldn’t quite choke back a groan, and he shoved on his glasses. Too late, though. The pain came.
“What’s wrong?” Lenora immediately asked.
He turned away, fought back the throbbing in his head. Maybe it wouldn’t turn into a full-blown migraine.
“The sunlight,” he managed to say. “I get headaches.”
She jerked the door closed and hurried back to him. “From the gunshot?”
He nodded and forced out some hard breaths. Sometimes it helped.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know. That wasn’t in any of the reports I read about you.”
Even through the blinding pain that got his attention, and he stared at her.
“Yes, I read reports about you,” she verified. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“You could have just asked. Or stayed at the hospital until I came out of surgery. Instead, Harlan said you bolted from the ambulance the second it stopped.”
“I did.” She looked away, repeated it. Lenora turned again, as if looking for a way out, and the movement caused her coat to shift to the side.
Despite the pain, Clayton pulled off his glasses so he could make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. They weren’t. He saw her belly.
Or rather, the baby bump.
It wasn’t huge, but it was there. And even more, Lenora followed his stunned gaze and pulled the coat back over her. The little gasping sound she made didn’t help steady his nerves, either.
“You’re pregnant,” Clayton said.
She nodded.
“How far along are you?” he asked when she didn’t volunteer anything else.
Lenora didn’t jump to answer that, either. “Second trimester.”
He stared at her. “That’s what—four or five months?”
Another hesitation. “Nearly five.”
The brain injury might have robbed him of some of his memories, but he could still do basic math. Nearly five months ago put it just about the time she’d been in his protective custody.
The time frame that was a blank spot in his mind.
“How much do you remember about me?” she asked before he could say anything.
“Not much. Nothing,” he amended. “Everything I know about you I learned from the reports and surveillance videos. And from Adam Riggs.”
Clearly, she hadn’t been expecting that last part, because she sucked in a quick breath. “What did Riggs tell you about me?”
Not as much as Clayton had wanted. And while Clayton would answer her questions about Riggs, he wasn’t forgetting about that baby bump. He would get answers about that before this conversation was over.
“I went to visit Riggs in jail,” Clayton explained, “to try to figure out if he was responsible for shooting me. Of course, he said he wasn’t.”
“Of course.” She huffed. “Anything that comes out of his mouth is a lie, because he’s a cold-blooded killer.”
Clayton couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t remember Riggs gunning down Jill Lang, but he’d seen the crime-scene photos and read the reports. The man was indeed a murderer.
One behind bars.
And one that shouldn’t have had the access to hir
e a gun to come after Lenora and him.
“Riggs said you ‘had secrets,’ and that’s a direct quote,” Clayton finished. “Any idea what he meant by that?”
He purposely dropped his gaze to her stomach. He doubted that bump had anything to do with Riggs’s cryptic comment, but Clayton figured Lenora definitely had some secrets that needed to be spilled.
She opened her mouth, closed it and then groaned. “I did you a favor by leaving Maverick Springs. My advice—let me keep doing you that favor.”
Clayton stepped in front of her when she tried to leave. Yeah, he could restrain her, but if she opened a door, the sunlight was going to cause the pain to spike again and maybe send him to his knees. After that, he wouldn’t be able to do much of anything. Ironic that a bullet hadn’t stopped him, but now sunlight could.
“Did we have sex?” he came right out and asked. “And is that my baby you’re carrying?”
The questions came easily enough, but there was nothing easy about the emotions whipping through him. He’d come here for answers about the attack and why she’d disappeared, but Clayton hadn’t been prepared for this.
Except there was something familiar about this, too.
A sense of déjà vu, and since he’d never fathered a child, he had to think that maybe the reason Lenora had visited him three months ago was to tell him she was pregnant. That would certainly explain the stunned look on his face in the surveillance video.
“You don’t have to do this,” Lenora said, her voice like a plea. “Just go home and heal. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
Well, the woman knew how to keep him on his toes. He really wanted to know what she meant by that last remark, but first things first.
“Is that my baby?” he demanded.
Her mouth tightened. “We had a one-night stand after Jill was murdered.”
The emotions whipped harder through him. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He cursed, and it was more than several moments before he could regain enough control to speak.
“You should have told me—again,” he added. “After I came out of surgery.”
“You had enough to deal with.”
That answer didn’t help. “What were you going to do? Have the baby and not let me know?”
“I would have told you eventually. When you were better.”
He leaned in and yanked off his glasses so he could meet her eye to eye. “I’m better, and I’ve been better for a while now.”
She nodded, but there was no agreement in any part of her body language. “Knowing the truth doesn’t make this situation better or easier. But it does make it more dangerous.”
Clayton made a circling motion with his fingers for her to continue.
She did, eventually. “I can’t prove it, but Riggs might have hired the shooter to kill me, and he might have shot you by mistake. And if that’s true, then it’s not safe for you to be around me.”
“That’s a big maybe. Riggs has just as much reason to want me dead as he does you. After all, we both saw him gun down Jill. We’ll both testify against him.”
“You remember the shooting?” she asked.
Unfortunately. “Yes.” However, there were gaps both before and after the murder. Big gaps that Riggs probably didn’t know he had. Hopefully, his lawyers wouldn’t, either, because Clayton didn’t want his testimony called into question.
She groaned softly. “But why didn’t Riggs come after you before that day at the diner? Why did he wait until we were together?”
“I don’t know. But that’s something we could have worked out if you’d stayed—”
“No, it’s not,” Lenora interrupted. She waited until his gaze came back to hers. “Riggs was right. I do have secrets. I’m not who you think I am.”
Oh, man. He didn’t like that tone or the look in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“It’s all lies. Not the baby. That’s the only truth in all of this.” She tipped her head to his phone, where the video of her returning fire was frozen on the screen. “You said only a criminal or someone in law enforcement would have reacted that way.”
Clayton nodded. Waited. “And which one are you?”
Lenora’s bottom lip trembled. “Both.”
Chapter Four
“Both?” Clayton repeated.
Lenora saw the instant concern in his eyes. Not ordinary concern, either. The kind of concern a marshal would have when facing down someone on the other side of the law.
“Explain that,” he demanded. His gaze dropped to her stomach. “And then we’ll discuss the baby.”
Lenora didn’t know which part of the intended discussion she dreaded most, but her dread was a drop in the bucket compared to her fear that Clayton’s mere presence here could get him killed.
“Are you sure no one followed you?” Lenora didn’t wait for his answer. She went to the sliver of a side window by the front door and peered out. The beveled glass distorted the view, but she saw her own car. No one else’s, and definitely no sign of a gunman. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
“I parked on the other side of the cemetery,” Clayton explained. “I didn’t see anyone following me, and I was careful.” He paused. “But there’s always the possibility that someone used the same steps I did to find you.”
True. That didn’t do much to steady her already racing heart and frazzled nerves. Lenora made a mental note to call the minister, Reverend Donaldson, to say she couldn’t finish the job. Then she could leave town and make sure Clayton didn’t find her again. However, that leaving part wasn’t going to happen unless she gave him the answers he was demanding, because there was no way he’d just let her walk out.
But where to start?
It was a tangled mess. One that Clayton definitely wasn’t going to like.
She took a deep breath, walked back toward him and sank down into a pew. “Jill and I both worked for the justice department.” There. Plain and simple. She gave him a moment to let that sink in.
It obviously didn’t sink in well. Clayton’s eyes narrowed. “It’s the first I’m hearing of this, and that’s funny since I work for the justice department, too, and I was assigned to protect you two.”
Yes, she was painfully aware of that. “You weren’t told the whole truth, and I was sworn to secrecy. Jill and I were agents on a special task force put together to bring down Adam Riggs and his cronies—”
“Any reason I wasn’t let in on this?”
“A good one.” Well, it was good in some people’s minds. It’d never felt right to her. “There were other agents planted in companies that Riggs was doing business with. The task-force supervisor didn’t want anyone knowing that Jill and I were deep cover, because it might have leaked—”
“I wouldn’t have leaked it,” he snapped, interrupting her again. He slipped his sunglasses back on and went to the front windows to look out.
The sunglasses were an odd mix with the rest of his clothes: the jeans, boots and silver rodeo belt. He used the brim of his black Stetson to help shield his eyes. It made her wonder just how bad his headaches actually were and if he was duty ready. Apparently he’d been ready enough to find her, and she’d thought she had covered her tracks well with the assumed name and the cash-only lifestyle.
“You could have trusted me,” Clayton added.
“I know that now, but we didn’t know it at the time. The task-force supervisor also wanted to make it look as if Jill and I were truly just workers who might be in danger because of a federal investigation. That’s why he asked the Marshals Service to provide protection for us. He took the ‘better safe than sorry’ approach.”
Clayton shook his head, glanced back at her, and even though she couldn’t actually see his eyes behind those shades, she was certain he was glaring. “That didn’t work out so well, did it?”
No, it hadn’t. Somehow Lenora would have to learn to live with that, but she hadn’t had much luck doing it so far. The nightmares were still there. Every n
ight. Unrelenting.
“So, you’re an agent,” Clayton said almost like a challenge.
“Former agent. I resigned shortly after Jill was murdered. But before the justice department, I worked in Dallas for a man who was a world-class money launderer. And I helped him.”
Lenora nearly choked on the confession, but it was true. She had indeed helped him, unknowingly, but she darn well should have known what he was up to. She’d played with fire and had gotten burned.
Now Lenora was trying to make sure that didn’t happen again.
Yes, Clayton was fire, all right.
Fiery trouble in a black Stetson.
All of her experience and training told her that he was off-limits. As if on cue, the baby kicked, reminding her that the hands-off rule had been broken months ago. Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t do something to stop more bad things from happening. She didn’t include her baby in that “bad things” department. She desperately loved and wanted this child. But the baby’s father was a different matter entirely.
She couldn’t live with another death on her hands. Especially his death.
“And you were a criminal?” he mumbled. He shook his head, put his back to the sidelight window and shucked off his glasses so his gaze could meet hers.
Yes, it was a glare, all right.
Lenora nodded. “When the feds started investigating the money-laundering scheme I was involved in, I was taken into custody and cut a deal to help them with an investigation to collar my boss.”
“Sounds dangerous,” he pointed out.
She settled for a shrug. “My boss and his business partners were bigger fish that they wanted. So, because the situation could have turned, well, more than dangerous, they trained me like a regular agent. But I was technically just a criminal informant assigned to the deep-cover task force. Then, after my boss was arrested and convicted, they asked me to stay on in the department and work on the Riggs case.”
Clayton made a sound of displeasure. “And as a dupe, my own people assigned me to two women that I was told needed protection.”
“Obviously, we did need it, because one of us was murdered,” she reminded him, then paused. “I’m sorry I had to lie to you.”
One Night Standoff Page 3
