One Night Standoff

by Delores Fossen

  “I’m not sure what set off the alarm,” Clayton answered. Or more like who set it off. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Are you?”

  “Fine.” For now. He wasn’t about to say that to her, though. “Keep the bedroom door locked and stay away from the window,” he repeated. “I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

  He hung up, but not before he heard Lenora say, “Be careful.”

  Clayton motioned for Declan and Cutter to follow him when he started for the house. He ran, trying to keep watch around him. After all, there was a possibility that the alarm had been tripped to draw them into an ambush, but that was an outside chance. There’d been opportunity for someone to shoot at them the minute Declan and he had stepped outside.

  But how had someone gotten past the ranch hands and into the house?

  With that question burning in his mind, Clayton ran to the back porch. No one was in sight, and he couldn’t hear anything over the alarm. He tested the knob.

  Locked.

  Just as he’d left it.

  He fished out his key from his pocket, opened the door and peered inside the kitchen. The room was practically pitch-black, also as he’d left it, and he couldn’t see anyone lurking in the shadows. He reached inside and glanced at the security panel.

  Clayton cursed again.

  The tiny blinking red light stabbed through the darkness, an indication of which sensor had been tripped, and it was the sensor for a window in the den. The bottom floor of the house. He wasn’t sure how an intruder had gotten past the ranch hands, but maybe the person had used the horses for a distraction. If so, it had worked.

  “You think he’s still outside the window?” Declan whispered, looking in at the light, as well.

  Clayton shook his head. “He’s inside.” No way would a trained killer loiter around out there when the ranch hands were patrolling. He’d likely come with some kind of tool to break in and had gotten in fast.

  Despite that horrible realization, Clayton didn’t go barreling in. Too risky. He couldn’t allow himself to be shot, because then he couldn’t protect the others. But he didn’t dawdle, either. It might have been a relief if someone had immediately shot at them. To have it over and done. And it would also mean the person wasn’t anywhere near Lenora on the second floor. But that didn’t happen, and it meant that someone was in another part of the house.

  Maybe near Kirby, Stella and Wyatt.

  Maybe headed upstairs.

  Since it was on the way to the stairs, Clayton went to Kirby’s room first and listened for any sounds to indicate where the intruder was. Nothing. In fact, no sounds at all. He tested the knob, which should have been locked.

  It wasn’t.

  Hell, there was no way Wyatt would have unlocked the door unless there’d been some kind of emergency.

  Even in the darkness, Clayton saw the alarm in Declan’s eyes. “Keep watch,” Clayton instructed Cutter, and he opened the door.

  At first Clayton didn’t see anything, until he looked at the floor. His heart went to his knees when he saw Wyatt, Stella and Kirby. Not moving. All in crumpled heaps.

  Declan rushed in, and he immediately touched his fingers to Wyatt’s neck. “He’s alive. He’s been stunned or something.”

  Definitely not good. It meant someone had gotten close enough to do that. But at least Wyatt was alive. Maybe Kirby and Stella, too.

  While Clayton wanted to help Declan check the others, his first priority was Lenora and the baby. If the intruder had done this to Wyatt, Stella and Kirby, then he could have done it to Lenora.

  Or worse.

  He didn’t let himself think of the or worse, but God knew what a stun gun would do to an unborn child. As a minimum, it could cause Lenora to miscarry.

  Praying that he wasn’t too late, Clayton hurried toward the stairs. He hadn’t even made it to the first step when he saw something. A blur of motion. Someone dressed in dark clothes. He took aim but didn’t fire, because he couldn’t take the chance that it was Lenora trying to escape.

  “Lenora?” he risked calling out to her.

  “There’s someone in the house,” she shouted.

  She was alive. He thanked God for that, too, but then he heard more movement. Not from the guest room where he’d left Lenora. No. This was much closer. Somewhere at the top of the stairs.

  Clayton adjusted his aim and moved closer to the railing before he started up the steps. Shooting would be a huge risk, because bullets could go through the walls and hit Lenora.

  That thought had no sooner crossed his mind when the shadowy figure darted out, and Clayton had only a split second to react. He dove to the side.

  Just as the shot flew past him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The shot was deafening. At first Lenora thought it’d been fired into her room. It took her a moment—one terrifying moment—to realize it’d been fired near the front of the house.

  Where Clayton was now.

  She opened her mouth to call out to him, to tell him to get down, but Lenora reminded herself that he was a lawman. Well trained in situations just like this. That didn’t help. She could only think about him being hurt.

  And that ripped her heart to shreds.

  She couldn’t lose him.

  Still, if she called out to him, it might only make things worse. It could distract him at the worst possible time.

  So far, all the attacks had been aimed at both her and Clayton, and Lenora didn’t believe things would change now. Their attacker was no doubt trying to neutralize Clayton, and then he would come after her.

  She had to fight every instinct in her body to save Clayton, but Lenora moved away from the door. Away from the window, too. And she got her gun ready in case she had to fire and defend herself.

  Her hands were shaking. Not a little bit, either. She tried to get control of herself. It wouldn’t do Clayton or her any good if she didn’t think like an agent. Of course, the problem with that was she was a pregnant trained agent, and she couldn’t get past the reminder that both her baby and her baby’s father were in danger.

  More shots.

  They were all still centered near the front of the house. By the staircase, she guessed. Again, much too close to Clayton.

  Judging from the rhythm of the shots, it wasn’t just their attacker firing, but also Clayton returning fire. It sickened her to think of him being in the middle of a gunfight, and she prayed at least one of his brothers was there with him for backup.

  Even with the deafening sound of the bullets, Lenora heard something else. Something she definitely didn’t want to hear.

  The doorknob rattled.

  She hoped it was just a vibration from the shots, but then it jerked violently. No vibration. Someone was trying to get inside the bedroom.

  “Clayton?” she risked asking. She scurried to the opposite side of the room, just in case the person on the other side was about to send a bullet in the direction of her voice.

  “Stay down!” Clayton shouted to her.

  It definitely wasn’t him outside the door. Judging from the sound of his warning, he was still near the stairs. And unless the gunman was both shooting at Clayton and trying to get into the room with her, that meant there were two attackers.

  At least.

  God knew how many men had been sent after them to finish a job that’d been started months ago at the diner.

  Another sound shot through the room. Not bullets. But the ring of the house phone. She didn’t dare risk answering it, because it could be a trick to pinpoint her location. After nearly a dozen rings, the phone finally went silent.

  There were more gunshots, and someone shouted something that she couldn’t make out. Not Clayton’s voice, but not a stranger’s, either. She thought it might have been Declan. Good. Maybe he was close enough to Clayton to help him put an end to this.

  The doorknob rattled again, and Lenora moved to the far corner of the room, near the adjoining bath. There were no windows in there.
No way to escape, either, once she was inside, but if the shooter made it through the door, she might be able to lock herself in so she could be in a better position to return fire.

  Not that she wanted to do that.

  But she wasn’t just going to stand there and let someone gun her down, either.

  Another rattle of the doorknob, and she heard the sharp sound of someone kicking at the wood. It took several hard kicks, and the hinges seemed to groan. When they gave way, the door flew against the wall.

  The person came inside.

  Lenora made a split-second assessment of the person who’d just knocked down the door. It wasn’t Clayton or any of his family. It was someone dressed all in black, wearing a ski mask, and what the clothes and mask didn’t conceal, the dark hallway did. She had no idea who this person was.

  But she fired.

  Not a kill shot, but she went for his shooting hand.

  She missed.

  The attacker was already moving to the side before she pulled the trigger, so her shot slammed into the jamb, right where he’d been just moments earlier. The person landed on the floor, out of her line of sight. Which meant she was out of his, too, but that wouldn’t last for long.

  “Lenora!” Clayton called out.

  The hail of gunfire in the hall became even more fierce. Louder. Practically nonstop. Probably because Clayton was trying to fight his way to her. Lenora prayed he could do that, but she had to take measures of her own just in case one of their attackers managed to hold him at bay.

  “I’m okay,” she shouted back to Clayton, but before she even said the second word, Lenora was already on the move. From the corner and into the bath.

  It wasn’t a second too soon.

  The shot came directly at her, and it put her heart right in her throat. She ducked deeper into the bathroom and tried to pick through the gunfire to try to hear her attacker approaching.

  But that wasn’t what she heard.

  She heard Clayton cursing through the bursts of gunfire. There was also a lot of movement. Not just in the bedroom, where she figured her attacker was closing in on her. But this movement was coming from the hall. Frantic footsteps. Shouts and more bullets.

  Lenora glanced out to see if she could figure out what was going on, but another bullet came right at her. She had no choice but to pull back. Thankfully, the lower half of the wall was covered with a combination of marble and slate, so she ducked down, using it as a bullet-resistant shield.

  She didn’t want to fire randomly to keep this guy from advancing. For one thing, the bullet might go through the wall and hit Clayton. And for another, she didn’t want to waste ammo. The Glock that Clayton had given her held fourteen rounds, but she’d already fired once and didn’t have extra bullets. There was no telling how much longer they’d be in a fight for their lives, and she might need those rounds to get them safely out.

  “Stay down, Lenora!” Clayton shouted.

  The gunman in the bedroom moved closer and fired into the bathroom. Not one shot but four, one right behind the other. They came at her so fast that the only thing Lenora could do was hover against the slate and pray that none of the bullets would slam into her.

  But just like that, the shots stopped.

  She saw the shooter dart to the other side of the room, deeper into the shadows, and Lenora couldn’t figure out why he’d done that. She levered herself up a little so she’d have a better shot, but the sound of the footsteps had her holding her position.

  A moment later, Clayton came bursting into the room.

  “Get down!” she yelled when she saw the shooter take aim at him.

  Lenora took aim, as well. At the man who was about to kill Clayton.

  And she fired.

  * * *

  CLAYTON FIGURED that bursting into the bedroom would be a huge risk, that he might be shot before he could even try to save Lenora. But he had to try. He couldn’t let whoever was in the room with Lenora hurt her and the baby.

  The only part of Lenora that he could see was her hand as it snaked out, but he had no trouble hearing the shot she fired. It blasted through the room.

  And it wasn’t the only one.

  Their attacker fired, too. The shot came right at Clayton and bashed into the wall just above his head.

  Clayton dove to the floor, took aim and fired again. This time the bullet hit the man squarely in the chest, but he didn’t go down. The man staggered back, and just when Clayton took aim to fire a second shot, blinding light stabbed through the room and right into his eyes. Not a normal light, but some kind of strobe light.

  The pain was instant and so strong that if he hadn’t already been on the floor, it would have sent him to his knees. He had no choice but to scramble to the side of the bed, away from the light and out of position to fire another shot at their attacker.

  “Clayton!” Lenora called out, and he heard her moving around.

  “Shoot at me again, Lynnie, and your lover is a dead man,” the guy said.

  Despite the searing pain, Clayton immediately recognized his voice.

  Quentin.

  Along with the pain, anger roared through Clayton. No way was he going to let Quentin get away with this. Of course, Clayton would have felt the same no matter who this man was.

  So now they knew who wanted them dead, but knowing who was behind the attacks didn’t help him now. Clayton tried to get control of the pain, but the light continued to come right at him.

  “Stay back, Lenora,” Clayton warned her.

  He couldn’t see her exact position, but she was somewhere in the bathroom. Clayton didn’t want her to leave cover or try to save him, because Quentin would be able to shoot them both. The man was no doubt going to try to do that anyway, but Clayton didn’t want to make it easier for him.

  Clayton blew out several hard breaths, hoping to ease the torture in his head. “I shot you in the chest,” he said to Quentin.

  “Yeah, you did. Not too happy about that, because I’ll have a hell of a bruise and it’s burning like crazy.”

  Which meant Quentin was wearing Kevlar. Clayton wished he’d gone for a head shot, and if he got a second chance, that’s exactly what he would do.

  “I don’t know what you’re planning, but don’t expect any help from your hired gun,” Clayton managed to say. “I took out Johnny Lomax. He’s dead at the top of the stairs.”

  “I figured as much, or you wouldn’t have made it this far.” If he was concerned about the loss of his hired gun, it didn’t show in Quentin’s voice.

  “Lynnie,” Quentin warned again, and this time there was emotion in his voice. Pure, raw anger.

  “Please, don’t,” Clayton managed to say to her.

  Clayton tried to get closer to her so he could shield her with his body, but Quentin just adjusted the strobe so that the jabs of light came right at Clayton. It was more effective than gunfire in neutralizing him. Worse, the pain was affecting his vision. Everything was a blur. He had to be able to see Quentin so he could take him out.

  “Clayton, we got a problem,” he heard Declan shout out. “A big one.”

  That was not what Clayton wanted to hear. Before he’d barreled into the guest room to try to save Lenora, he had left Declan standing guard in the entry at the bottom of the stairs. With the security system off, Clayton hadn’t wanted anyone else to sneak in. Cutter was with Stella, Kirby and Wyatt while they regained consciousness from what was probably a stun gun attack. Clayton prayed that Quentin hadn’t sent a henchman to hurt any of them, but obviously something had gone wrong.

  “Go ahead, Marshal. Tell Clayton what the problem is,” Quentin called out to Declan, and he sounded very pleased with himself. “I think your brother will want to hear just what kind of help I brought with me.”

  Quentin was actually enjoying this, and Clayton wished he could beat the man to a pulp for being so cavalier about putting so many lives in danger.

  “With all the gunfire, I didn’t hear them come in until
it was too late,” Declan said. Unlike Quentin, there was nothing but concern in his brother’s voice. “Three men. One is holding a gun on me, and the other has a gun aimed at the ceiling.”

  “Not just any ordinary gun, either,” Quentin volunteered. “It’s a high-powered automatic loaded with armor-piercing bullets.”

  From the sound of it, Clayton figured it was a machine gun. Definitely not something he wanted in the mix of this battle with Quentin.

  “Oh, and the triggerman doesn’t have it aimed at just any ceiling,” Quentin added. “He has it pointed right at the bathroom floor where Lenora is standing.”

  Hell. And with armor-piercing bullets, the shots would tear through the floor and hit her.

  Lenora shifted her position, obviously getting ready to move.

  “I wouldn’t advise that, Lynnie,” Quentin told her. “My triggerman and I are wearing communicators, so he can hear every word I say. And here’s what I’m telling him. If he hears another shot or any kind of movement, he’s to start firing. You’d be dead before you could draw your next breath.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lenora froze. She glanced down at the floor where she was standing. It wasn’t hard for her to picture Quentin’s lackey beneath her, his gun ready to blow her to bits.

  She wanted to curse Quentin and put an end to this, but she couldn’t risk firing a shot, because it could get both Clayton and her killed. Especially since that blasted light had essentially disarmed Clayton. God knew how much pain he was in, and all because of Quentin.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked Quentin. But she didn’t really care why. She just wanted to figure out a way to get Clayton and his family out of this.

  “I thought that was obvious. Revenge. No way could I let you get away with what you did to me. Spying on me. Giving that SOB Agent Britt all the dirty little details of my life.”

  Quentin adjusted the light, and even though she couldn’t see Clayton, she supposed Quentin was doing that to torment him. Without the gunfire, Lenora could hear Clayton’s muffled sounds of pain.