Special Ops Cowboy

by Addison Fox

  Her conversation with Belle earlier that day—had it really been only a few hours ago?—still lingered. Belle had offered the same sort of support and unconditional acceptance. Even Hoyt’s offer of marriage, if not overtly offering love, did suggest a huge measure of care.

  Which made her reaction to it all so hard to understand. Didn’t she want support through this? The answer was a resounding yes, if not for herself, definitely for her child. So why was she struggling so hard to accept what were clearly genuine, heartfelt sentiments?

  “I appreciate your kindness but none of you signed up for this. Hoyt didn’t and his family certainly didn’t.”

  Arden shifted once more, tucking a leg up beneath her as she got comfortable on her side of the couch. “I want to make sure I have this straight, so let me feed it back to you. Some crazy person has decided to target you and instead of feeling like you can turn to people who would do anything to help you, the thought has lodged that you should somehow be dealing with this alone?”

  “I’m not—”

  “Nope.” Arden shook her head. “Not finished yet. Are you under some misguided idea that the only reason we’re helping you is because of the baby?”

  “Well, yeah. Of course.”

  “Now you’re just making me mad.”

  Whether it was Arden’s normally levelheaded nature or the yoga she actively practiced that seemed to keep her on an even keel, Reese was pretty sure in all the years she’d known the woman she’d never actually seen her mad.

  She could never say that again.

  “What sort of boneheaded, idiotic friend would think that the only reason I cared about her was because of a baby?”

  “It’s not a big leap.” As arguments went, hers was terribly weak, but Reese couldn’t quite let it go. “I mean, why would you put yourself in danger? And especially not after—”

  It only took a heartbeat, maybe less, before Arden leaped. “After what? After your father’s crimes? After he killed someone on Reynolds land? Say it, Reese, because the rest of us are sick in the heart of saying it for you.”

  “Whoa, Arden. What’s going on in here?” Hoyt’s question rolled over them both, a cross between the tone she imagined he used with skittish horses and the commands he gave his ranch hands when he wanted answers.

  “Nothing.” Arden shook her head and shoved off the couch.

  “Arden, I—” Reese broke off as Arden rushed from the room. The fear that had wrapped itself around her midsection since the shots through the window faded in the face of her friend’s anger, replaced with a sinking hurt she had no idea how to handle.

  Why couldn’t Arden see her point? The Reynolds family wouldn’t be a part of any of this if she and Hoyt hadn’t had their wild night back in June. No baby, no commitment.

  No commitment, no putting them in danger.

  “I haven’t seen her that mad in a while.” Hoyt’s gaze was still on the door where Arden had slipped out to the front yard. “She’ll get over it.”

  “How can you be that nonchalant?”

  “She’s been my sister for twenty-eight years. I’ve seen her mad before.”

  “I haven’t. It was—” Reese stilled, her own shortsighted comments still ringing in her ears. “Not it, I. I was ungrateful.”

  “You’re also shaken up. I think you can give yourself a bit of a pass here.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe I need to get my emotions under control and try to think of who might be doing this.” She heard the bitterness in her own voice and mentally chafed at any hint of victimization. She’d been targeted for some unfathomable reason—just as Hoyt had tried pointing out since the spider—but that didn’t mean she was a victim. Or helpless. Nor did it mean she’d leave things as they were with Arden.

  But for the moment, she’d work on bucking up and revel in the innate strength and support that was as much a part of Hoyt Reynolds as his green eyes or wide shoulders.

  That gaze went sharp, a hard emerald glittering back at her in the soft glow of her living room lights. “Did you think of something?”

  “No, not yet.” She sighed. “But it does feel less and less like student pranks.”

  “I know.”

  Something lay beneath Hoyt’s ready agreement. “You have any ideas?”

  “Nothing specific or tangible, but something I do want to run by Belle.”

  Reese waited, but when he didn’t finish the thought, she pressed on. “And?”

  “It’s just a line I want her to tug.”

  “Then you can certainly tug it for me.”

  “It’s probably wildly off base.”

  She already knew he was a man who kept his thoughts to himself, but this was ridiculous. “Out with it.”

  “Reese—”

  “Nope. I want to hear this. Not only can I handle it, but I can’t consider what’s happening to me or keep an eye out for someone aiming to do me harm if you don’t share what you’re thinking.”

  While she saw his clear hesitation, the subtle shifting from foot to foot making his discomfort more than obvious, she saw something else.

  The moment her argument hit its mark.

  “I want Belle to check on the latest with the drug cartels. Maybe some kingpin’s got some lingering anger or embarrassment over your father’s actions and wants to use you to even the scales.”

  Reese dropped onto the couch, the sheer impact of the idea swamping her.

  Could she actually be the target of a drug lord?

  It seemed far-fetched in the extreme, but then again, she’d have said a lot of things seemed fanciful and ridiculous. Finding out her father had turned into a serial killer who hunted drug runners sat squarely at the top of the list.

  And then a whole other idea struck, hitting her square in the chest.

  “My mother. I have to get to my mother. What if they’ve targeted her, too?”

  * * *

  Blood still pounded through her veins in a heavy, bumpy rhythm as she pulled into her garage. She still saw visions of the police lights flying past her on the route back into Midnight Pass, expecting one of them to pull her over and find the shotgun she’d stowed in the trunk.

  But no one had stopped her at all. Instead, they’d raced for Reese Grantham’s house, just like she’d planned.

  Taking those shots had been harder than she’d expected, but cathartic, too. Freeing.

  Powerful.

  And not for the first time did she imagine what Jamie’s father had discovered once he began taking down those drug dealers. She’d always heard that revenge was sweet, but she’d use a different term.

  Revenge was liberating.

  All the small, petty grievances of her life seemed to fade as she held that shotgun. Her ex’s abandonment, both physical and emotional. The lingering toll of remembering how Jamie had died. Even the stress of raising children all alone seemed distant, somehow, as she held that gun.

  She turned off the engine and hit the garage door. She’d deal with the gun later. For now, it could remain in her trunk, buried under a blanket. She had been careful to take out the bullets, just as Paul had taught her, and wondered even now as they rattled at the bottom of her purse if she should find a way to get rid of them. She’d been careful to take the casings as well, picking them up where they’d scattered around her feet. It hardly made sense to drop them in the trash, but where would she get rid of them?

  She hadn’t murdered anyone and this was Texas, after all. Who would notice a few shell casings from a good, old-fashioned scaring at the bottom of a garbage can?

  The picture forming in her mind of places around town vanished as the distinctive ringtone echoed from her purse. Dragging out the phone, she braced herself for the conversation to come.

  She didn’t even get out a hello before Paul’s voice was barking through the line. “Loretta. Yo
u have to come back over here. Ben’s sick and Charlie’s not too far behind, if the bellyache he’s whining about is any indication.”

  “Paul. It’s your night with the boys. They looked forward to seeing you all week.”

  “I’m not taking them sick like this. I have work in the morning and I can’t be up all night dealing with this.”

  Like she could be up all night, either.

  But something about Charlie’s little face as she’d dropped them off and Ben’s stoic features as he’d trudged up to Paul’s door, his little brother’s hand in his, filled her mind’s eye.

  A different sort of power.

  Not like holding the gun at all, but something softer. Quieter. And even more powerful.

  “I’ll be right over.”

  Loretta ended the call, hit the button for the garage door and restarted the ignition.

  It was time to go get her babies.

  * * *

  “Mom!” Reese pounded on her mother’s front door, trying the doorknob at the same time, relieved and somewhat mollified to find it locked. “Mom!”

  A light flashed on from the back of the house, vaguely visible through the small side windows on either side of the front door. She heard the vague echo of footsteps and backed up to stand beside Hoyt.

  He’d insisted on coming with her and what had seemed like a great idea at the time suddenly turned sour as memories of her last conversation with her mother filled her mind’s eye.

  Right. A good man. Such a good man he got you pregnant.

  Although Reese had shared with Arden the conversation she’d had with her mother, Hoyt still didn’t know about her visit and it was a damned difficult time to try and explain it all. Instead, she reached for his hand, grateful for the ready support when his responding grip was firm and tight. “I’m sorry if she’s a bit off.”

  He squeezed her hand lightly. “It’s fine.”

  The door swung open and without Serena saying a word, Reese knew things were not fine.

  Not at all.

  “Mom.” She rushed forward anyway, still so relieved her mother hadn’t been harmed. Pulling her close, Reese was shocked by how stiff and formal her mother was, her arms still at her sides as Reese tried to hold her close.

  “You brought him along.”

  If Hoyt was at all fazed by Serena’s stiff frame, stringy hair or cold greeting, it wasn’t obvious as he nodded his head. “Ma’am.”

  “Let’s get inside.” Reese stepped back but before she could reach for the door, Hoyt had it firmly in hand, closing out the heat and the sounds of the August night. The steady hum of the TV from the back of the house replaced the light whirling music of the cicadas and the frigid air-conditioning quickly overrode the August heat.

  “We need to talk to you.”

  “Didn’t you and I talk enough the other day, Reesie?”

  “It’s about something else.”

  Reese didn’t miss the subtle curiosity that sparked briefly in her mother’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced with the blank stare and pursed lips she’d worn since opening the door. “Fine, come on back.”

  Although she and Hoyt had discussed strategy on the way over—she wanted to blurt out their suspicions and Hoyt was aiming to be a bit more subtle—they did agree that her mother needed some sense of what was going on and what they suspected. Even if Hoyt’s guess was wildly off base, she needed her mother’s vigilance, for Serena to pay attention to her own personal safety.

  The woman who walked in front of her down the hallway barely looked able to stand, let alone observe the world around her.

  One step at a time, Grantham, Reese chided herself. First, she needed her mother to understand what was going on. Then they’d worry about her mental state.

  The family room looked as dull and lifeless as it had the other day but Reese ignored it as she took a seat on the couch opposite her mother’s chair. Hoyt took the spot next to her, seeming oblivious to the dank, lifeless air. Although she wanted to reach for his hand, that easy strength going a long way toward buoying hers, Reese kept her hands in her lap. No need to incent her mother’s ire or draw her off the reason for their visit: Serena’s safety.

  “Mom, we need to talk to you about something. But first, I wanted to know if anything strange has happened.”

  “You mean besides my unwed daughter marching in here telling me she’s pregnant?”

  So much for not fueling her mother’s ire. Resolved, Reese pressed on and held back the heavy sigh that wanted to escape. “That’s not what I meant. Has anyone strange been by knocking at the door or has anyone been nosing around the house?”

  “Of course not.”

  “And you haven’t felt uncomfortable at all?”

  “I’ve been plenty uncomfortable knowing my daughter’s been playing the town whore with you.” Serena shot a trembling finger at Hoyt before she reached over and picked up her pack of cigarettes. Unlike the other day, this pack was full and it was the work of moments for her mother to have one out and lit, smoke drifting up into the air.

  With impressive speed, Hoyt was off the couch and hovering over her mother. He had the cigarette out of her mouth and crushed in the nearby ashtray, his movements firm but never threatening, in a matter of seconds. He swiped the pack as he stepped away, shoving them into his pocket as he resumed his seat on the couch. “The smoke’s bad for the baby. Not to mention you.”

  “Well, I never—”

  Hoyt flashed a cold dark smile. “You can have them back when we leave. In the meantime, I need you to listen to your daughter.”

  Reese wasn’t sure if she should stand up and cheer or burst into tears that Hoyt had so neatly pinned her mother down. The lifeless gaze Serena had used to stare at the world had vanished, replaced with sparks and fire Reese hadn’t seen in years.

  Since before Jamie was sick.

  “You’re got some nerve, Mr. Reynolds. First you knock up my daughter and now you move around my home as if you own the place.”

  Hoyt’s smile never wavered. “Your daughter clearly has far more patience than I do so I’ll say this once. Reese isn’t a whore or some knocked-up victim. She’s a beautiful, competent woman who’s going to be the mother of my child. I’ll kindly ask you to remember that if you hope to have any sort of relationship with your grandchild.”

  Her mother seemed ready to argue before the bluster seemed to go out of her, like a balloon losing all its air. “Why are you here?”

  “Mom. You need to listen to us and take this seriously. Hoyt and I were shot at tonight.”

  If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, Reese wouldn’t have believed the change in her mother’s demeanor. As fast as she’d deflated, things seemed to change just as quickly. Serena sat up straighter, her focus fully on Reese as she reached forward, her slender roughened hands gripping Reese’s fully. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Reese and Hoyt took turns, each sharing what they knew and suspected about the events of the past week. The spider and the review of footage at the school. The shots that night as they sat in the kitchen. And Hoyt’s very real fears that Russ’s actions had come back to haunt them in the form of a violent vendetta.

  The frailty Serena had carried since Russ’s death the previous April faded with each syllable, the clear danger to her daughter and future grandchild seeming to give her strength.

  “What does Belle think?” Serena asked. “Russ might have kept things from me at the end, but I was a cop’s wife. I know how this stuff works. The gang warfare and the violence criminals can perpetrate if they want to get back at someone. I’m not doubting your words, Reesie, but a spider seems tame for that crowd. The bullets,” Serena nodded. “Not so much.”

  “I know, Mom. But it also means we don’t think it’s a bunch of kids pranking around.”

  “No,” her mother agreed. “I
don’t see it, either.”

  “And you haven’t felt anything off, Mrs. Grantham?” Hoyt asked, the earlier subtle enmity between the two of them vanished now that they fought a common enemy.

  “I haven’t left the house much since my husband’s death, but I also don’t sleep much. I’d have known if someone was lurking around my property.”

  Reese didn’t doubt it, but she’d have said the same if questioned even a few days before. Even up until tonight, she hadn’t felt anything odd as she and Hoyt had come into the kitchen and set out plates for pizza. But if it wasn’t dumb, ill-advised kids and it wasn’t lifetime criminals, who could it be?

  Because whatever was going on, it was obviously escalating. And Reese couldn’t help but feel she sat directly in the crosshairs.

  Chapter 13

  Hoyt tightened Stink’s reins as they neared the southern end of Reynolds property, pulling up next to Ace and Tate, who both sat high on their mounts. August had gotten even hotter, so that it felt like the devil himself had opened the gates of hell and was fanning the flames. Everyone was miserable and damned tired.

  But Hoyt knew that his own personal brand of acting like a royal bastard had reached unprecedented heights.

  Hell, half the reason he was out riding Stink instead of helping Ace and Tate with the cattle grazing on this section of the ranch was because they’d already exchanged a nasty string of words. As a result, he’d headed off to check on some of the longhorns they had grazing on the opposite end of the property just to spend some time in his own head.

  It had been a week and a half since the gunshots. Eleven days without any clues or any further aggression. While he was more than glad that nothing else had happened, the strange tightrope of emotion that had him constantly vigilant and rarely resting had begun to take its toll. Add on Reese starting back at school this coming Monday and he was out of his mind that something was going to happen to her and the baby.

  All of which had resulted in a witch’s brew of emotion that sat like sludge in his gut.