“What I did to you?” she repeated. “You were breaking the law, and you were using me to do it.”
“You knew exactly what you were doing,” Quentin fired back.
But she hadn’t known about the criminal activity until James had shown up at her home and told her. Of course, in Quentin’s crazed mind, maybe blaming her was what he needed to do to justify his own guilt.
“Okay, here’s how this is going to work,” Quentin continued. He also continued slashing that light at Clayton. “You’re both going to put down your weapons. Carefully, and keeping your hands where I can see them. And then Lynnie’s going to step out and come with me.”
Oh, God. He was planning to kidnap her. Or maybe that was just a ruse to get her to leave cover. Quentin could just shoot and kill her first chance he got.
“Oh, and if you don’t drop your guns,” he went on, “then my second and third triggermen have orders to shoot. He’ll start with your brother by the stairs and then move on to the others in the back bedroom.”
Clayton didn’t respond to that right away, but she heard him take several more of those forced breaths. “Declan, where’s Wyatt, Cutter and the others?”
“Can’t tell, but I’m guessing they’re being held at gunpoint.” Declan paused. “But Harlan, Dallas and Slade are on the way.”
Lenora had no idea if that last part was true. She prayed it was. They could definitely use the backup from three marshals, but the question was—if Declan had managed to contact his brothers and inform them of the attack, would they arrive in time?
“Put your guns on the floor,” Quentin ordered again. “You first, Lynnie.”
She didn’t rush to do that. Instead, she leaned out just a little so she could take in the entire room. Well, what she could see of it, anyway. The strobe light was blaring on Clayton, who was trying to shield his eyes from it, but it also made the rest of the room—including where Quentin was standing—hard to decipher.
“How did you get inside the house?” Lenora asked Quentin. She wanted him talking so she could try to figure out what to do.
He made a sound to indicate that was obvious. “It’s easier to keep track of everyone when one of my men has infrared. We knew when to sneak into the pasture and let out the horses. To create a distraction. Like what you’re trying to do to me now. Put your gun on the floor.”
The anger in Quentin’s voice went up a significant notch. He obviously wasn’t going to fall for her tricks. Still, surrendering her weapon was a huge risk. No way for her to return fire if she did that.
“Do as he says,” Clayton told her.
Even though she couldn’t see Clayton’s face, she knew he wouldn’t want her to give Quentin’s triggerman a reason to start firing. So Lenora stepped in the doorway of the bathroom and stooped so she could put the gun on the floor.
“Kick it across the floor, away from your lover,” Quentin instructed.
It was the second time Quentin had referred to Clayton as her lover. Maybe because he knew that Clayton was her baby’s father. Or maybe there was another reason.
A sickening one.
It was possible that Quentin had used the infrared he mentioned to watch them have sex. Of course, he wouldn’t have been able to actually see them with the infrared, but Quentin could have figured it out. She hated that he had violated her in so many ways.
Lenora pinned her attention to Quentin and gave her gun a kick. It landed by the edge of the bed. Out of her reach, but Clayton might still be able to dive for it.
“Good girl,” Quentin said in that mocking tone. “Now, Clayton, it’s your turn. Put your gun on the floor and shove it toward me.”
Clayton leaned forward, but he didn’t let go of his gun. “What are you going to do with Lenora?”
“I’m surprised you’d want to hear all the dirty little details.” Quentin didn’t wait for Clayton to respond. “In a nutshell, I’m going to make her pay for what she did. And I need time and privacy for that.”
It turned her stomach to think of what Quentin wanted to do to her. She wanted to fight back now, but it was too big a risk to take with the gunman below her. Maybe once they were out of the room she’d have a better chance of escaping, because there was no way she could leave the ranch with this man who wanted to torture her.
Quentin cursed. “Must I keep repeating myself? Put your gun on the floor.”
Clayton moved again. Just a little. Clearly, he was trying to stall, so Lenora helped him out by asking Quentin another question. She didn’t care what the answer was, but she wanted to buy Clayton some time.
“Why would you possibly work for a man like Riggs?”
“I’m not,” Quentin quickly denied. “In fact, Riggs refused to fund this little adventure. Thought it was a setup of some kind.”
If their lives weren’t on the line, it would have been a relief to hear that, but it didn’t lessen the danger to know that Jill’s killer wasn’t involved.
“All that bank account info I gave you was just to muddy the waters,” Quentin continued. “The gun, Clayton.”
Clayton moved again and put his gun on the floor, but he didn’t pull back his hand.
“So if it’s me you want,” Lenora said in a voice loud enough that hopefully Quentin would look at her, “then let Clayton and his family go.”
“Impossible. You’re carrying his family. No way can I leave Clayton alive.”
“He’s right,” Clayton confirmed. “I’d come after him, and I’d find him. And kill him.”
Lenora cringed. Clayton was throwing down a gauntlet, and she didn’t miss the sound of outrage that Quentin made.
“Get your hand off that gun,” he told Clayton, “or Lenora dies right now.”
Clayton cursed. But he drew back his hand, and in the same motion he kicked the gun toward the foot of the bed. She prayed he had a backup weapon and that he’d be able to get to it if it came down to it.
“Good,” Quentin said, but there was no real praise in his voice.
Quentin turned toward Lenora. “Come here, Lynnie.” Because of the light, she still couldn’t see his face, but she had no doubt that his attention held firmly on her.
“Do as he says,” Clayton instructed.
When Lenora stepped out, she saw Clayton’s hand move toward his boots, where he hopefully had some kind of backup weapon.
“Come closer,” Quentin ordered.
Lenora did, and she tried to position her body in between the two men so that Quentin wouldn’t be able to see what Clayton was doing. But that didn’t last long, because the moment she was within Quentin’s reach, he tossed the strobe light aside and grabbed her, slinging her in front of him.
Just the touch of his hand on her had her skin crawling, but at least the light was no longer stabbing into Clayton’s eyes. Now that she could see Clayton’s face, she could see the agony. He was in horrible pain, maybe too much to stop Quentin. And there was something else very bad about the new position. She was literally shielding Quentin, so that even if Clayton could return fire, he wouldn’t have a clean shot.
Well, not until they moved.
And according to Quentin, he intended to move her, to take her elsewhere so he could punish her. For that to happen, they would have to walk out of the room, and maybe that’s when Clayton could help her stop this.
“Here’s how this is going to work.” Quentin put his mouth right against her ear when he spoke, but he didn’t whisper. He kept his voice loud enough for Clayton to hear. “I’m giving you a huge gift. An opportunity to keep your baby alive.”
Lenora hated to latch on to the hope that Quentin was telling the truth, but she desperately wanted it to be true. “How?” she asked. And despite the pain, Clayton looked as skeptical as she felt.
“Easy,” Quentin answered. “If you do just one little thing, I’ll take you someplace safe, where you can finish your pregnancy and deliver the baby. I’ll even have the kid sent back to Blue Creek Ranch, so he can grow up to be a
cowboy like his daddy.”
Quentin hadn’t said a word about keeping her alive, but at the moment she was willing to do whatever it took for her baby’s safety.
“What’s the one little thing?” And she held her breath, waiting for an answer that she was certain she didn’t want to hear.
Quentin took her hand and wrapped her fingers around his gun. “Easy. Kill Clayton and your baby lives.”
* * *
HELL. WHAT KIND of sick game was Quentin playing now?
He was putting Lenora in an impossible situation. One no doubt meant to punish her. If Clayton had thought for one second that his death would allow Lenora and the baby to live, he would trade his life for theirs.
But he didn’t trust Quentin.
No.
If Lenora went through with the shooting, then Quentin would only turn that gun on her or else kill her after he’d tortured her. To stop that from happening, Clayton needed a plan.
But what?
If the pain would stop roaring in his head, he might be able to come up with one. Unfortunately, that strobe light had done a real number on him, but he tried to force himself to think through the pain.
He was sure his other brothers were on the way from Maverick Springs. His cell phone had buzzed several times in the past fifteen minutes, and even though he hadn’t risked looking at the screen, Clayton figured it was either Harlan, Dallas or Slade. One of them had probably tried to call the house phone, too, and when they hadn’t gotten an answer, they would have driven out.
Hopefully Quentin didn’t have other gunmen stashed outside to ambush them.
“Shoot him, Lynnie,” Quentin demanded. He forced her to move forward, toward the door and the hall. No doubt where he was planning to escape.
Lenora shook her head, and even through the pain, he could see the tears shimmering in her eyes. “Give me another option,” she demanded right back.
Quentin laughed, but there was no humor in his tone. “You always were difficult. I would have killed you sooner, you know, but I couldn’t find you when you went into hiding after Jill’s murder.”
That put a new height on the hatred Clayton felt for this piece of slime.
“If you’d wanted me dead, you could have just waited at my house, the one you vandalized,” Lenora reminded him. “But I don’t think you wanted to kill me. I think you wanted to torment me.” Despite the tears, her voice was surprisingly strong.
Clayton wasn’t sure that was a good idea.
He didn’t want Lenora to do anything to provoke Quentin more. The man was obviously operating on a short fuse. So all Clayton needed was some kind of distraction. Just a few seconds, so he could draw the Smith & Wesson from his boot holster and blast Quentin to smithereens. Of course, for that to happen, he’d first have to get Lenora out of the way.
“Guilty,” Quentin agreed. “I do love tormenting you.” And with his gaze now fixed on Clayton, Quentin kissed Lenora on the cheek. “Wish I could drag this out a little bit longer, but I figure Clayton has reinforcements on the way, and you and I need to leave before they get to the house.”
Quentin shoved her forward again. Closer to the door. And he lifted Lenora’s hand, pointing the gun right at Clayton. “Put your finger on the trigger.”
“No.” And she tried to shove the gun away.
“Either put your finger on the trigger,” Quentin warned, “or Clayton will get the pleasure of seeing me kill you where you stand.”
It was the first thing Quentin had said tonight that Clayton believed. He would kill Lenora, and with the way their bodies were positioned, Clayton wouldn’t have the shot to stop the man.
“Lenora?” Clayton called out. Just as he’d hoped, she quit struggling. He didn’t want the gun to go off accidentally, because it could still kill her.
Her gaze came to his again, and she seemed to be waiting for him to give her some kind of signal. He wanted her to move out of the way, but he didn’t see how she could safely do that. After all, Quentin had her hand clamped around the gun.
“Do you still want to marry me?” she asked. “If so, my answer is yes.”
Clayton didn’t know who was more stunned—Quentin or him. The timing certainly sucked, but Clayton thought the sucky timing was exactly what Lenora wanted. It was such a simple thing. Just a couple of sentences, but she must have known it would send Quentin into a jealous rage.
And it did, all right.
Quentin made a feral sound, and he latched on to Lenora’s arm so hard that Clayton was sure that he was about to kill her on the spot.
But Lenora made her own sound—a loud screech, and she tore herself from Quentin’s grip and dove toward the bed.
Just as the blast echoed through the room.
* * *
LENORA INSTINCTIVELY PUT her hands over her stomach to try to protect the baby, and she tried to scramble across the bed and to the floor.
She failed.
The shot came anyway, before she could protect herself. And she braced herself for the feel of the bullet slamming into her body.
That didn’t happen, either.
Instead, the bullet went in Clayton’s direction. Into the floor where he’d been only seconds before she’d started this whole distraction thing to get her away from Quentin. It’d been a gamble. A huge one. And she was counting heavily on Clayton having some other weapon. If not, well, they were both about to die.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Clayton roll to the side, and when he came up, he had a gun in his hand.
Thank God.
He fired at Quentin, but just as Clayton had done, he got out of the path of the oncoming bullet. Quentin landed in the doorway, part of him in the bedroom and the other part in the hall.
The shots came instantly. A battering of bullets that nearly felt like an earthquake. It took her a moment to realize that neither Quentin nor Clayton had fired the shots, but instead they’d come from below.
Her stomach twisted into a knot.
Quentin had warned them if shots were fired, then his goon downstairs would try to kill them. And that’s exactly what he was trying to do. The bullets began to blast their way through the bathroom floor.
However, those weren’t the only shots she heard. There were others downstairs. Maybe from Declan or maybe from Clayton’s other brothers. She hadn’t heard a vehicle approaching the ranch house, but with everything going on, she could have easily missed it. If so, there could be a life-and-death fight going on one floor beneath them.
She thought of Kirby, of how sick he was. Too sick to fight back. And maybe he wasn’t even conscious yet. He, Stella and Wyatt could be sitting ducks right now, and she doubted the gunmen would show any mercy and keep any of them alive.
“Stay on the bed,” Clayton yelled to her. And he came off the floor and took aim at Quentin.
The man skittered out of sight. Somewhere in the dark hall. But Lenora was betting he wouldn’t go far. No. He wouldn’t give up yet, because it would mean his arrest for attempted murder and God knew how many other charges. That made him beyond desperate and very dangerous.
The bullets from below ate their way through the bathroom floor and into the ceiling. And then the angle changed. God, no. The shooter had moved, maybe because Quentin had told him through the communicator, but now the floor shots were going in Clayton’s direction.
Lenora reached down to pull him onto the bed with her. Not that the mattress and frame would give them much protection, but it was better than nothing. And besides, the bed was aligned with the door, so that they might be able to spot Quentin.
A bullet rammed into the metal bed frame. She heard the plinging sound. Felt it, too. The jolt. But she didn’t have time to dwell on it.
She had to try to save Clayton.
Clayton scrambled onto the end of the mattress, and he positioned himself in front of her. Shielding her in case Quentin came through the door again. But as frightening as that prospect was, Lenora was terrified that the gunman
below would get lucky with those blind shots. Heck, it wouldn’t even take much luck because of the sheer volume of bullets that were coming their way.
“He’s behind you!” she heard Declan yell.
And she held her breath, praying that none of Clayton’s family had been hurt.
There was another blast, different from the shots going into the floor. And just like that, that battery of bullets stopped. The room suddenly became so quiet that the only sound she could hear was her own heartbeat crashing in her ears.
“All clear down here,” Declan shouted.
Lenora released the breath she’d been holding and was beyond thankful that the floor shooter was out of commission. But Quentin was no doubt alive and ready to launch round two.
“Clayton, are you okay?” It was Declan again. From the sound of his voice, he was making his way up the stairs.
Clayton didn’t answer Declan, though. He took aim at the door. Waiting.
“Get in the closet,” Clayton whispered to her.
Lenora hated to leave him to fight this battle alone, but she had to think of the baby. She couldn’t risk it, so she scrambled off the bed and reached down to scoop up her gun. However, she didn’t even make it a step toward the closet when she saw the blur of motion from the corner of her eye.
The sound came with it.
Yelling at the top of his lungs, Quentin ran into the room, his gun already aimed not at her but at Clayton. Clayton ducked to the side and they both fired at the same time. Even though she couldn’t see if Clayton had been hit, Lenora saw the bullet tear through Quentin’s arm.
It didn’t stop him.
He squeezed the trigger, his shots blistering through the air, and Lenora dropped to the floor when one of them bashed into the headboard.
She pivoted and took aim at Quentin. But it was already too late. Lenora shouted for Clayton to get down, but it was too late for that, as well.
Quentin fired.
So did Clayton.
And this time he didn’t hit Quentin in the chest or shoulder. The shot went into his head. Quentin seemed to freeze. For a split second his gaze met hers, and then he crumpled to the floor.
One Night Standoff Page 17
