Savior in the Saddle (16 page)

She no longer heard Wes’s frantic shouts for them to let him in. Maybe the man had wised up and gotten away from there.

Or maybe Shore had already killed him.

Until this attack, she had thought that maybe Wes had hired Shore to come after her, but after hearing Wes’s reaction to the explosion, either he was extremely good at faking fear, or he was an innocent bystander in all of this.

Another bullet slammed into the window, and this time she did hear the glass crashing to the floor. She also felt the cold air start to spill into the building. Brandon didn’t return fire. Maybe that’s because he would have to fire through the window as well, and he perhaps didn’t want to create an opening that Shore could use to shoot at them.

“Let’s go,” Brandon told her. “But stay down.”

She did stay down. He didn’t. Brandon rushed them to his office and got her inside, but instead of coming in with her, he stood in the hallway and took aim.

He was right in the line of fire.

There was another shot.

Then, another.

Where were the deputies? Why couldn’t they get to Shore and stop him?

Her heart was pounding now, and Willa tried to force herself to calm down. This fear and anxiety might hurt the baby. But she couldn’t discount the fact that all of them might die here today. And for what? To cover up what she’d been forced to do while she had been a hostage?

Or was something else going on here?

Brandon had positioned her on the side of his desk, but she could still see out the single window in the center of the wall. Willa kept watch, but she knew that Shore was still at the front because she could hear his shots.

“Stay down,” Brandon told her.

And he fired.

That meant Shore had either destroyed the window or was maybe already inside.

She wanted to tell Brandon to get down as well and to be careful, but the movement outside the window caught her attention. It wasn’t the deputies. Or Martin Shore.

It was Dean Quinlan.

He didn’t appear to be armed, but he had his back pressed to the building next to them. What the heck was he doing out there?

“Brandon,” she warned. “Dean’s outside.”

He stepped back into his office, and his gaze slashed to the window. He didn’t take aim at the man but instead kept his gun in the direction of the last shot that had been fired.

She heard the sound of more breaking glass, followed by a heavy thud. Someone was trying to kick in the door.

Oh, God.

Shore was breaking in.

Willa spotted more movement outside the window. It was Pete, the deputy, and he went to Dean and pushed the man to the ground. Pete, too, kept his weapon aimed in the direction of the front of the building. Maybe, just maybe, Pete could get off a shot and stop Shore.

At least that’s what she thought until she heard the next bullet.

It didn’t come into the building but rather the narrow alley where Dean and Pete were. Pete dropped to the ground as well, but Willa couldn’t tell if he’d been hit.

Brandon slammed his door and caught her shoulder to move her deeper into the room, next to a metal filing cabinet. Willa no longer had a clear view of Dean and Pete, but she did see something else.

“That’s Wes’s driver,” she told Brandon.

The man came out from across the street and he had a gun in his hand. He took aim but she couldn’t tell who or what he was aiming at.

Pete got back to his feet as well and aimed in the same direction as Wes’s driver.

Everything seemed to happen at once. She heard the front door crack and give way. Brandon threw open his own office door and stepped into the hall, ready to kill the intruder.

Willa heard herself call out to him, but her words were drowned out by the sound of the shots. There seemed to be so many of them, all coming from different directions, and the combined blast was deafening.

She closed her eyes for just a second and prayed that Brandon hadn’t been hurt.

When she looked out, Brandon was still standing. Thank God. He had his gun pointed toward the front door. So did Wes’s driver. And neither man was moving.

“He’s down!” Pete shouted.

Did Pete mean Shore? Relief flooded through her, but Willa reminded herself that he could have meant someone else. There had been a lot of shots fired in the past thirty seconds, and there were other people outside, not just Shore.

She waited with her breath held.

“You okay, boss?” Sheila called out.

Brandon glanced at Willa first. “We’re okay,” he answered.

Willa tried to see what was going on, but everyone had left the alley. Brandon moved too and went toward the front of the station.

She followed him, terrified of what she might see and that Shore might still be standing out there ready to do what he had been hired to do.

The door was wide open, the wind battering it against the wall, and there were massive gaping holes in what was left of the window. She spotted Wes across the street. He was behind his driver. Or maybe a better word for the man would be
bodyguard
because that’s what he seemed to be doing—protecting Wes. He had Wes positioned behind him as Brandon had her.

They inched closer, but Brandon didn’t lower his gun.

Willa saw Pete and Dean to the right. Sheila was on the left. Both deputies had their weapons trained as well, but they were definitely converging toward the front door.

She soon realized why.

There was a pool of blood on the small concrete step directly in front of the door, and next to that pool lay Martin Shore.

“I had to shoot him,” Wes’s driver confessed. “He was about to put a bullet in your deputy.”

Brandon stooped down and put his fingers to Shore’s neck. Checking for a pulse. But Willa knew he wouldn’t find one. Shore’s blank eyes were fixed on the dull winter sky, and there was no life left in him.

No life and no breath.

And that meant he couldn’t tell them who had hired him to kill her.

This wasn’t over.

Chapter Fourteen

Brandon couldn’t get his mind to slow down. It was racing with the images and sounds of the latest attack. He could still hear the shots slamming through the glass, and the tremble of Willa’s body.

And see the fear on her face.

Those were images that would stay with him for a lifetime.

Once again, she could have easily died, thanks to Martin Shore. And once again, Brandon hadn’t been able to prevent her from being at the center of an attack.

His body seemed to be trying to keep up with his racing mind. He put himself on autopilot and tied up what loose ends he could at his office, but he was thankful when the neighboring sheriff, Beck Tanner, and his deputies agreed to take over the investigation so that Brandon could get Willa out of there. That couldn’t have happened soon enough. He wanted the baby and her far away from the bullet holes, Martin Shore’s dead body and especially away from the person who was responsible for sending Shore after her.

The problem was, Brandon still didn’t know who that person was.

Even though Shore was dead and his body was on the way to the county morgue, they didn’t know who had hired him.

And might never know.

He certainly couldn’t eliminate any of their four suspects. Dean, Wes, Cash and Dr. Farris had all been in the area. And, yes, Wes’s man had been the one to shoot and kill Shore, but Wes could have ordered him to do that so he could save his own butt. If Wes thought that Shore was about to be captured and taken into custody, he wouldn’t have wanted to risk having the man spill his guts. No. Wes would have told his man to take Shore out.

That thought only caused him and his mind to race more, and when Brandon glanced down at the speedometer, he realized he was going a good twenty miles over the speed limit. Not a bright idea, since the sleet was making the roads slick. Worse, Willa had a white-knuckle grip on the armrest.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. And he eased up on the accelerator a bit. Still, he didn’t dawdle.

“Don’t be. I’m not exactly anxious to be out in the open like this.”

Yeah. He knew what she meant. They were literally out in the sticks, nearly eight miles from town and the chaos he’d left there, but Brandon knew that chaos had a way of following them. That’s why he had continued to check his rearview mirror throughout the drive.

“We can’t stay at my house tonight,” he re minded her.

And soon, very soon, he’d need to ditch the car since it was the one Pete had used to pick them up earlier. Someone could recognize it. Unfortunately, it was the sheriff department’s only vehicle that hadn’t been hit with bullets in the attack.

“So where will we go?” she asked, checking the side mirror as well.

Brandon had considered several possibilities—including a drive back into Austin or San Antonio. The problem with that was the icy roads, and it was getting late. The sun was already close to setting, and that would drop the temperatures even farther. He didn’t want to risk getting into an accident.

Plus, there was no one he truly trusted in either of those places.

If they went to either city, they would have to check into a hotel, and while he had the cash stashed at home to do that, paying with cash might alert a curious desk clerk who might in turn alert the police. Brandon figured if Wes had heard about the attacks on Willa, then it had likely been on the news. This latest attack and Shore’s death would be reported as well, and the press would be able to come up with photos. Their faces could be plastered on the pages of every newspaper in the state.

And that brought him back to their temporary sleeping arrangements.

“There’s a fishing cabin on the back part of my property,” he told her. He turned on the road that led to his house, and he saw the dogs race out to greet them. “There’s no electricity, but I do have a generator. We can stay there tonight and then figure out tomorrow where we should go.”

“Or you could just drop me off somewhere and put some distance between us.” She said it so softly that it took a moment to sink in.

“You think I’d leave you?” He hadn’t intended to sound so angry, but damn it, that riled him.

“I think it would be smart for you to do that. Right now, the person who hired Shore is looking for
us.
As in the
two
of us. If we split up, he or she will be looking only for me.” She shook her head. “And we both know it’s me they’re really after.”

Brandon brought the car to a stop, not in front of his house, but he parked inside the garage, and he used the remote control to shut the door. While it ground to a close, he turned in the seat to face her. “Let’s get something straight. I’m not leaving you.” Well, not until he was positive she was safe.

The look in her eyes told him that she understood that last unspoken part.

He cursed and reached for the car door. “Come in with me to get some things.”

Because he sure didn’t want her waiting in the car alone. It had been chilly before, but it was bitterly cold now, and that along with the possible danger caused them to rush inside. He locked the door and set the security system even though he only planned to be there for a half hour or so.

“Don’t turn on the lights, but if you want to wash up, you’d better do it here,” Brandon let her know. He tried to take the anger out of his voice but failed. Hell. She had actually thought she could talk him into dumping her so he could save himself. “There won’t be any hot water at the cabin.”

No hot water. No heat other than the fireplace. No bed, just a single army-style cot. And no comforts of home. It wouldn’t be an ideal place to spend what was left of Christmas Eve.

He grabbed his old duffel bag and headed to the linen closet so he could grab some bedding. The place wasn’t exactly pitch dark, yet, but he had a little trouble locating the thermal blankets. When he finally got them, he shoved them into the bag and then started for the kitchen.

Willa stepped out in front of him.

“You’re mad at me,” she said, “but you have to admit I’m sort of like Typhoid Mary right now. There really is no reason for both of us to be in danger.”

Oh, yes, there was. Brandon put his hand on her stomach to remind her. He’d intended for it to be a quick touch, but he held it there.

There was just enough light left that he could see her face. Willa stood there looking at him, and her right eyebrow lifted as if questioning him as to what he was about to do.

Brandon had no idea.

He just knew that touching Willa wasn’t a good idea. Still, even with the danger and his anger, he didn’t stop and didn’t pull back. They both seemed to be waiting to see what would happen next.

And what happened next was that he snapped his arm around her, pulled her to him and kissed her. He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t give her a chance to change her mind and pull away. Brandon just took what was right there in front of him.

Maybe he meant this as some kind of reassurance that he would be there for her. But Brandon cursed himself. This didn’t have anything to do with reassurances. He’d been burning to kiss Willa since their last kissing session had ended. He wanted her, and there was no logical explanation for it other than she got him hot.

She curved her hand around the back of his neck and moved as close as she could get. Because of the pregnancy, they weren’t exactly body to body, but they were plenty close enough for Brandon to deepen the kiss. He didn’t taste the fear or the adrenaline from the attack.

He only tasted Willa.

Man.

That taste went straight through him.

Brandon realized he was trying to get even closer to her when Willa’s back hit the wall. That stopped him a moment because he wanted to make sure he wasn’t being too rough with her. But Willa merely latched on to a handful of his shirt and pulled him right back to her.

The kiss got even hotter.

They couldn’t keep this up. Soon, very soon, their bodies would demand more. They would demand sex. And Brandon knew he had to try to keep a clear head. Plus, having sex with Willa wouldn’t be fair since they would no doubt be going their separate ways.