One Night Standoff Page 7

  “That still doesn’t explain why you came here,” Lenora quickly pointed out.

  James huffed as if the answer was obvious and planted his hands on his hips. “Just because you ended your association with the justice department, it doesn’t mean I forgot about caring what happened to you.” He glanced away, cursed. “I feel bad about Jill’s murder and everything that you’ve been through since.”

  “But you didn’t feel bad enough to return my calls for days after Jill’s death and Clayton’s shooting.”

  James’s jaw tightened. Clearly he didn’t like what Lenora had said, but judging from the glare the agent gave him, he believed that Clayton was somehow responsible for Lenora speaking her mind.

  “There was a glitch in communication that night,” James explained. “I didn’t get your message for hours, and then I got word from another agent that you were in the marshal’s hotel room. Where you spent most of the night. I was trying to figure out how to handle it.”

  That didn’t sit well with Clayton, and he did some glaring of his own. “Why would you believe that you needed to handle anything? Lenora and I were both consenting adults, and by then she was no longer in my protective custody.”

  “Lenora wasn’t exactly thinking straight that night, and I didn’t want her breaking down and revealing her real identity to you. It might have compromised the entire task force.”

  Even though Clayton didn’t like that answer, either, he glanced back at Lenora to see what she thought of it. She clearly wasn’t buying it.

  “If you were concerned that I’d spill all to Clayton, then why not return my calls and warn me not to do it?” she pressed.

  Another huff from James. “Because I was trying to figure out how to deal with it. Besides, I was pretty torn up about Jill’s murder, too. I needed some time to work out things in my head.”

  Lenora stepped out next to Clayton. He groaned and shot her a stern warning to step back, but she obviously couldn’t see the look behind his glasses. If it wouldn’t have caused a full-blown migraine, he would have shed the shades just so she could see that he did not want her to do this. Of course, she already knew, so the migraine would just be wasted.

  It didn’t take long for James’s gaze to drop to her stomach. “You’re pregnant.” He didn’t seem exactly surprised, but upset instead. “You should have let me know something like that.”

  “Well, you and I haven’t exactly stayed in touch, have we?” Lenora clearly didn’t try to take the sarcasm from her voice.

  “Are you accusing me of something?” James fired back.

  “Are you guilty of something?” she returned just as fast.

  James didn’t answer her, but instead turned back to Clayton. “I know you’re looking for the person responsible for putting a bullet in your head, but it wasn’t me. I’m not even convinced it was Riggs.”

  Clayton hadn’t expected James to say that. “Riggs has a solid motive. Or at least he believes he does. He could want Lenora and me out of the way so we can’t testify against him.”

  “Even without your testimony, he’ll be convicted,” James reminded him. “Lenora and you have both done affidavits, and your sworn testimony could be used against him. Riggs and his lawyers know that.”

  True. However, there was the other angle that Lenora and Clayton had already considered. “But with us out of the way, maybe Riggs could get murder one reduced to a lesser charge.”

  James didn’t argue that, but his attention went from Clayton to Lenora. “I’ve been investigating this, and I think we need to take a harder look at Quentin Hewitt.”

  Because Lenora’s arm was against his, Clayton felt her muscles tense, and despite the shades, he saw some of the color drain from her face.

  “Quentin was the man who got me involved in money laundering,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Clearly, she wasn’t comfortable talking about this. Clayton wasn’t comfortable hearing it, either, but from the sound of it, this could be critical.

  “Why would this guy want to shoot us?” Clayton asked James.

  James, however, looked at Lenora. “You want me to tell him, or should you?” And for some reason, the agent didn’t seem too upset about revealing something that was obviously unsettling to Lenora.

  Yet another reason to dislike the man.

  Lenora didn’t dodge Clayton’s gaze. She looked him straight in the eyes. “Five years ago, I was Quentin’s executive assistant. And I was in love with him. Or I thought I was, anyway. I did whatever he wanted me to do to make his business succeed.”

  So, Quentin and she had likely been lovers. Clayton had to push aside the quick jolt of jealousy he felt and remind himself that it’d happened well before he met her. And besides, it wasn’t as if he and Lenora were involved except for the baby. A one-night stand didn’t make a real relationship even when it made a real baby.

  “Quentin was the initial target of our investigation,” James continued when she didn’t. “Lenora helped us find evidence against him, without his knowledge, of course. We led Quentin to believe we got the dirt against him from other sources. So that he could avoid jail time, he in turn helped us convict at least a half dozen big-time criminals. Afterward, Lenora stayed on the task force, again without Quentin’s knowledge, and he went into WITSEC.”

  Witness Security Program.

  Ironically, it was run by the U.S. Marshals Service. Of course, Clayton wouldn’t automatically have been told of anyone entering the program, and even if he had been in this case, the name would have meant nothing to him. He certainly wouldn’t have connected it to Lenora.

  “Quentin went missing from WITSEC just a couple of days after Jill was murdered,” James added.

  Clayton didn’t like that timing any more than he did the timing of this visit or the attack at the church. “Maybe he’s dead.”

  The agent shook his head. “I have three confirmed sightings of him. No, Quentin’s very much alive, and I think he saw or heard something that made him realize Lenora had been working for the justice department.”

  She groaned softly. “Quentin could have done those break-ins at my house that happened before your shooting.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Clayton, I’m so sorry. I should have never visited you that day.”

  Lenora still had a grip on the gun she was holding, but her hand dropped limply to her side, and she turned and went back inside the house.

  Clayton didn’t want her to be alone, especially after seeing those tears, but he needed just a little more from James. “You consider Quentin dangerous?”

  “Oh, yes. He’s in love with Lenora. The only way we convinced him to go into WITSEC and keep his distance from her was because we led him to believe that it’d keep her safe. We convinced him that the cronies he put in prison might try to use her for revenge to get back at him.”

  And all of that would have come crashing down if Quentin had learned that Lenora had been the very informant who’d turned him over to the authorities in the first place.

  Yeah, that was a big motive for murder, all right.

  “If Quentin’s behind this,” James continued, “you could be an innocent bystander in both of the shootings.”

  There she is.

  That’s what the two gunmen at the church had said, so maybe they were indeed just looking for Lenora. It didn’t change things. It only meant Clayton had to do a better job of protecting her.

  “I’ll send you the file I have on Quentin,” James volunteered. “And I’d like to offer Lenora a safe house until we work out this mess.”

  “Yes to the file,” Clayton agreed. “No to the safe house. I’ll work out security for her.”

  James nodded. “Figured you would. Just know that we’re on the same side here.”

  Clayton wasn’t a hundred percent convinced of that. James could be trying to use Quentin to throw suspicion off himself, and that was something Clayton would investigate further.

  They both looked at the truck that was practical
ly flying up the road toward the house. It was Wyatt, and even though there didn’t seem to be an eminent threat, Clayton was glad he was here. Wyatt slammed on the brakes and got out the moment the truck stopped.

  “One of your marshal brothers, I assume,” James said, clearly not happy about the security measures they were taking for his visit. “I’ll send you that report on Quentin.” And with that, he walked back to his car, passing a hard look at Wyatt along the way.

  “He’s the guy who hired someone to take shots at you?” Wyatt asked, and he didn’t wait until James was out of earshot, either.

  “Maybe. I need you to make sure he leaves the ranch. I have to talk to Lenora.”

  Wyatt pinned his attention to James, who started his car and pulled away. “Harlan told me she’s pregnant.”

  “Yeah. The baby’s mine.”

  It wasn’t surprise, exactly, that went through Wyatt’s eyes. Envy, maybe. Now that he was a widower, Wyatt was again the hot catch of Maverick Springs. The one all the single women wanted. A few married ones, too. But Clayton knew that this particular hot catch wanted to be a father, and he wanted it bad. So far there hadn’t been any baby reminders at the ranch, but there would be now.

  Well, there would be if Clayton could keep Lenora safe and somehow convince her not to run out of his life again.

  “See to Lenora,” Wyatt said, his jaw muscles stirring. “I’ll make sure the potential scum isn’t a threat.”

  Clayton went back inside, welcoming both the semidarkness and the A/C. There was sweat trickling down his neck, and his mind was racing with all the things he had to do. First on his list, though, was Lenora.

  She wasn’t in the entry, where he’d expected her to be waiting, so Clayton checked the den. Not there, either. He went through the formal dining room and into the kitchen, where Stella was seated at the table.

  “She’s out there,” Stella volunteered, pointing to the sunroom that stretched across the side of the house. The worst place possible for him because of the light. Stella had added heavy blinds and drapes to the other rooms in the house, but the sunroom had been left as it was.

  Clayton took a deep breath, walked out to the sunroom and found her seated in a white wicker chair.

  She was crying.

  The second she spotted Clayton, however, Lenora swiped away the tears, jumped to her feet and went to him. She backed him out of the bright light and into the laundry room off the kitchen. The overhead light was on there, but she slapped it off.

  “I’m so sorry, Clayton.”

  Hell. He didn’t want an apology. He took off his glasses, hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “We don’t even know if Quentin had any part in this. Everything’s speculation at this point.”

  Well, everything except that she felt pretty darn good in his arms. He didn’t need any more reminders of why the two of them had landed in bed, but he got one anyway.

  A short reminder, because she pulled away from him.

  “I need to leave, to put some distance between us,” she whispered.

  He would have bet a year’s salary she would say that. “Not a chance. Again, no guarantees that you and you alone are the target. If we’re not together, it might make it easier for someone to pick us off.”

  Harsh but true.

  “Plus, there’s the baby,” Clayton continued. “I want to protect him or her. And don’t start talking about how I don’t remember you, how I don’t remember the night the baby was conceived. That doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it does. I read your background, Clayton, and there’s nothing in it to indicate you ever considered having children.”

  “True,” he readily admitted. “I didn’t exactly have a stellar childhood, so it didn’t make me eager to be a father.”

  Even though it was dark and he could barely see her expression, Clayton figured he hadn’t convinced her.

  Nope.

  She’d run first chance she got. But before he could try to say something else that would prevent her from running, his phone buzzed, and when he saw Harlan’s name on the screen, he knew it was a call he should take.

  “This conversation isn’t over,” Clayton told her, and he pushed the answer button. “Please tell me you have good news, Harlan.”

  “Well, it’s news. Don’t know how good it is, though. I just had an interesting conversation with a friend who’s an FBI agent and did a lot of deep-cover work. He cut through some red tape and got us fast answers about Agent James Britt.”

  Good. It was exactly what they needed. Clayton put the call on speaker so that Lenora could hear. “We’re listening,” he said to alert his brother this was no longer a private conversation.

  Harlan hesitated a couple of moments. “I’m not sure you’ll want to hear all of this, but I dug up some things about him. And Lenora.”

  “She was a criminal informant,” Clayton supplied.

  “And a criminal,” Lenora added.

  An unknowing one, from what Clayton had heard so far. A man she’d loved had dragged her into a situation that could have put her in grave danger. But yeah, that still made her a former criminal.

  Harlan hesitated again. “Remember Corey Dayton?”

  Even with his memory problems, that was one name Clayton would never forget. “He’s the guy who shot me in the diner.”

  “Yeah,” Harlan verified. “Like Lenora, Dayton was once a criminal informant. There’s no official record of it, but my friend says he used some info that Dayton provided during an investigation.”

  Clayton looked at Lenora to see if she knew that, but she obviously hadn’t. She shook her head.

  “There’s more,” Harlan said, and there was a lot of concern in his voice. “According to my agent friend, when Dayton worked as a CI, he reported to none other than Special Agent James Britt.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lenora forced herself to eat, though the way her stomach was churning, she wasn’t sure she could keep it down. Still, she did it for the baby’s sake. And for Clayton’s. She was tired of seeing the worry in his eyes.

  Worry that she’d put there.

  Worry that was now mirrored in his brothers’ eyes, too.

  There were three of them at the dinner table—Harlan, Wyatt and the youngest, Declan. Stella, the family friend, was there as well, and even Clayton’s foster father, Kirby. The man was in a wheelchair and looked every bit as sick as Clayton had said he was—salt-white hair, and his veiny skin seemed paper thin. He wasn’t eating but instead had an IV bag hooked up to his arm.

  An odd gathering indeed.

  There seemed to be lots of silent communication going on, as if they were all wired into each other’s thoughts. Except for her, of course. While all of Clayton’s family seemed sympathetic to the danger she and the baby were in, she figured there was a massive amount of suspicion, too. Probably because of her criminal past.

  “You okay?” Clayton asked her.

  Lenora realized she was staring at the plate of lasagna again, so she took another bite and nodded. “It’s my first time eating with four lawmen.” She wanted to keep the conversation light since the mood was anything but. “I keep waiting for one of you to read me my rights and arrest me.”

  Her attempted humor didn’t work that well. The corner of Clayton’s mouth lifted. Stella’s, too. But the remaining trio of marshals and their foster father didn’t crack a smile, and the quiet tension returned.

  They had plenty to discuss, but no one was discussing it. Maybe because they were all so familiar with what was going on. Or maybe the lack of discussion was to spare her feelings. It wasn’t working, but then discussing the investigation wouldn’t help in that department, either.

  All afternoon Clayton had tried—and failed—to get more info on James’s association with the dead man who’d shot Clayton. Ditto for more info on Quentin. He was a suspect now, along with James, and either one of them could be working for Riggs. However, Clayton had been able to find out that James
was in serious debt from two failed marriages and child-support payments. Maybe the debt had made him desperate enough to turn to Riggs for cash and murder for hire.

  “Heard you got a clean bill of health from the doctor,” Stella commented.

  It took Lenora a moment to realize the woman was talking to her. She nodded. Dr. Cheryl Landry had given Lenora a checkup and said all was well. A huge relief. Despite all the craziness going on, her baby was still her first priority.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Stella continued, “how long have Clayton and you been together?”

  Lenora nearly choked on the bite of lasagna she’d just taken. She looked at Clayton, trying to figure out what or what not to say.

  “We’re not actually together,” Clayton answered.

  “The baby wasn’t planned,” Lenora added.

  “But he or she is still very much wanted,” Clayton added, as well.

  That caused the others to glance around. If there’d been a picture of awkward in the dictionary, this would have been it.

  “A grandbaby,” Kirby said, his voice a weak whisper. “Always wanted one of those.”

  Stella nodded. “Well, if you’d asked me which of Kirby’s boys would be the first to be a daddy, I wouldn’t have said Clayton or Slade. Wyatt, for sure.”

  Wyatt didn’t say a thing.

  Clayton scraped his fork over the cheesy top of the lasagna but didn’t eat it. In fact, he was eating less than Lenora was. “You don’t think I’m father material?” he asked Stella.

  “Didn’t say that. I think you’ll make a fine one, but before Kirby brought you here to the ranch, none of you boys exactly had good role models for daddies.”

  Lenora remembered the discussion with the Ranger investigating Webb’s murder. And there were also the notes she’d read about Clayton’s childhood. It’d been miserable. But then, so had hers.

  “I didn’t know my dad,” Lenora said without thinking. It definitely wasn’t something she volunteered often, but somehow it seemed less awkward than discussing her own pregnancy or Clayton’s qualifications as a father. “My parents never married, and my mom never even told me my dad’s name until after he’d died.”