Standoff at Mustang Ridge (17 page)

“Hell, no.” And Royce didn’t have to think about that. “Not until we’re sure we can trust Lott.”

Maybe not even then.

“Jake’s still tied up, questioning that gunman,” Billy added. “But he said he’d handle Lott if he comes back.”

Royce didn’t doubt his brother’s abilities. Jake was a good lawman, but he also didn’t want Jake to get in trouble over this. The problem was that Royce wasn’t sure how to prevent that and keep Sophie safe. What he needed was to figure out who was responsible for the attacks, stop them, and then there’d be no reason for Lott to place Sophie in federal protective custody.

“Thought you’d also want to know,” Billy continued, “that the doc checked out Travis and said it wasn’t much of an injury. All he needed was a couple of stitches.”

“Was it self-inflicted?” Sophie asked just as Royce turned onto the interstate. He wanted to know the same thing.

“Possibly. The doc couldn’t say for sure, and Travis walked out of the hospital when the doc hinted that’s what might have happened.”

So Travis was out and about somewhere. But so were their other suspects.

“What about the site where Travis said he was run off the road?” Royce asked Billy.

“The road’s covered with ice and snow. Can’t tell much until this storm passes through. Oh, and Agent Kade Ryland from the FBI called, too,” Billy added. “Should I give him your number?”

Royce considered it, and while he trusted Ryland, he didn’t know if there’d be some way that Travis could get the information. “Better not risk it. What did Ryland want?”

“He found out who’s trying to contest Sophie’s mother’s will,” Billy answered.

“Who?” Royce and she asked in unison. But he didn’t miss the fact that Sophie held her breath, obviously bracing herself to hear the answer that would implicate her father or her brother.

“It’s Travis,” Billy said.

Now
that
was an answer that Royce hadn’t anticipated. Apparently, neither had Sophie because with her mouth open she moved closer to the phone.

“How could Travis challenge the will?” she asked. “My mother didn’t even mention him in it.”

“It’s a long legal explanation, one I didn’t fully understand, but it seems as if Travis believes he has a claim to the Conway ranch because Eldon owes him a boatload of money. Travis’s lawyers are saying Diane Conway
arranged
her assets so they couldn’t be used to pay off debts incurred before her death.”

Royce thought about that a moment and looked at Sophie. “Is it true? Did your father get some money from Travis before your mother died?”

She stayed silent a moment, too. “Maybe. You think Travis has a claim?”

“Who knows,” Billy answered. “The guy could be just grabbing at straws.”

Yeah. But if there was some basis to it, then perhaps Travis could get his money and back off from Sophie. Maybe that would end the threats.

Unless Travis was hell-bent on getting revenge for their possible one-night stand after Stanton drugged them.

Of course, if Travis got his hands on that money, Sophie and her family would probably be broke, but at least they’d all be alive.

If Stanton, Eldon or both were innocent, that is.

“Call me if anything else comes up,” Royce instructed Billy.

He ended the call, hoping that would be the last of the bad news, and he took the ramp to exit the interstate. There were three buildings on the access road—a hotel, restaurant and a motel. He chose the latter since it would mean Sophie and he wouldn’t have to go traipsing through a lobby to get to a room.

“There are a lot of cars in the parking lot,” Sophie pointed out.

Royce knew the concerns; she didn’t have to voice them. More cars meant more people who could possibly see them. But it also might mean the place was already full. At least he could see the registration desk through the large front windows, which meant Sophie wouldn’t have to go in, yet wouldn’t be out of his sight.

“Get down on the seat,” Royce instructed, “and lock the doors.” He got out, waited until she’d done that before he hurried inside.

“You’re in luck,” the clerk immediately said. “One room left.”

Finally, something had gone their way. Royce used his cash to pay for a deposit and the room, and he gave the clerk a fake name. Maybe that would stop Lott from pinpointing their location.

Once he had the key to the second-floor room, Royce parked in the back, gathered their things and got Sophie into the room as fast as possible. Royce did a quick check of the room, though there wasn’t much to check. Just the bedroom and a small bath. No one was inside, lurking, ready to attack, so he double locked the door and even put on the chain.

“You should eat,” he said, depositing the bag of supplies on the small table.

Since the table was directly in front of a window, he closed the blinds and took a sandwich and a bottle of water to Sophie who sank down onto the foot of the bed.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, and took the items from him.

But it was obvious her attention wasn’t on eating. She glanced first at the envelope of papers that he’d put next to the bag. Then she looked back at the sole queen-size bed before her attention returned to him.

“There were no rooms with two beds,” Royce volunteered.

Sophie shrugged. “It probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway.”

He knew exactly what she meant. They’d been alone two other times before—in the Mustang Ridge motel and in the kitchen at his house, and both times they’d made out.

Maybe more.

Even if nothing had happened at the motel a month earlier, plenty had happened in his kitchen.

“So we, um...wait?” she asked.

That sounded a little sexual to him, probably because his mind kept drifting in that direction whenever he was around Sophie.

Royce nodded. “Jake might get something from the gunman.” He motioned toward the papers. “There might be something in those, too.” Anything that would give him the name of the person responsible so he could make an arrest.

Then they could deal with the pregnancy test.

Royce hadn’t realized he’d been staring at her stomach until Sophie cleared her throat. She’d obviously noticed what had gotten his attention.

“No symptoms,” she reminded him. “And the odds are slim since it was just that one time.”

True. And Royce didn’t want to speculate on how he would feel if that test came back positive or negative. Besides, it just didn’t seem real that a drugged or drunken encounter could have resulted in a baby.

She stood, placing the sandwich and water on the dresser just a few feet in front of her. “Are you going to file charges against Stanton for drugging you?”

Royce shook his head. “I haven’t made up my mind about that yet. But if I get proof that he’s involved in these attacks, he’s going to jail.”

Sophie didn’t argue. She just gave a resigned nod and walked closer to him. Her arm brushed against his when she went to the table and retrieved the envelope with the papers. Even though she didn’t open it or say anything, Royce knew what she was feeling.

“I’ll do everything within my power to keep your father out of this,” he said.

“Unless he’s the one trying to kill us.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper, and he couldn’t just see the fatigue and worry in her eyes, he could feel it.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t do it, Royce reached out, put his arm around Sophie and pulled her to him. There was nothing he could say to make things better. Nothing he could do, either. So he just stood there and held her. It might have stayed a simple hug if Sophie hadn’t slipped her arms around him, too.

And worse.

She pulled back just a little, met his gaze.

The fatigue was definitely there in all those swirls of blue in her eyes, but there was a spark of something else. Again, he knew exactly what because the spark was also there inside him.

The corner of her mouth lifted. “Does this qualify as our second date?” she asked.

Royce laughed before he could stop himself. He didn’t know how Sophie had managed to find any humor in this mess, but he was glad she had.

He pushed the hair away from her cheek and brushed a kiss there. That was all he intended to do because even a chaste kiss between them had an edge to it. Touching her in any way always seemed like foreplay. But he didn’t pull away after the cheek kiss.

Sophie turned a little at a time until her mouth was against his. Royce felt the groan rumble in his chest. Felt the heat start to rise. With all that heat, it was hard to believe there was a snowstorm outside.

“I think we both know what’ll happen if this kiss continues,” Sophie said, her breath brushing against his lips.

Yeah, he did know. For some reason it no longer seemed like such a bad idea.

Even though it was.

Their situation hadn’t changed, and if he got her in that bed, he’d lose the focus that he needed to keep her safe. And alive.

“I should take a shower,” she whispered.

It sounded like yet more foreplay, and Royce felt himself go rock hard. She waited, maybe to see if he intended to join her. He wanted that. Man, did he. He wanted nothing more than to do something about this constant ache that he had for her.

Sophie studied his eyes a moment before she gave a slight nod. “You’re stronger than I am,” she said. And with that totally inaccurate observation, she walked away and into the bathroom.

Hell.

He’d known this would be difficult, but he hadn’t braced himself nearly enough for being here alone with Sophie.

Royce stood there, debating if he should go after her. He had a dozen reasons why he shouldn’t, and he forced himself to remember each and every one of them. He needed to go through those papers. He needed to keep watch.

And keeping watch wouldn’t happen if he was having sex with Sophie.

Royce cursed again and wished that he had zero willpower so he could go into that shower with her. But instead, he grabbed the papers and got to work.

Chapter Fourteen

The water spraying on her was too hot, but Sophie didn’t turn down the temperature in the shower. She wanted the heat and the steam. Because if that heat seeped into her, she might forget the other kind of fire that was roaring through her.

Royce’s kiss was responsible for it.

But Sophie rethought that. She’d been burning for Royce for over a month now, and the recent kisses had just been a reminder of the obvious.

She pressed her forehead against the warm glass shower door so the water could massage the back of her neck. It, too, became a quick reminder of Royce’s touch. So did the water sliding down her breasts, belly and well, lower. She had just fragments of memories of Royce touching her at the motel a month ago, but there had been that incident in his kitchen.

The one where they’d practically had sex on the counter.

Now
that
touching she remembered.

And still felt it.

The sliding water only helped her feel it more. Made her ache more, too.

Sophie moaned, cursed and slapped off the shower. The heat and water caressing her definitely weren’t helping. Cold probably wouldn’t, either. In fact, she was afraid there was only one cure for what ailed her, and that cure was in the bedroom.

Maybe even on the bed they’d have to share.

Sophie got a clear image of that, too, and felt even more heat. She’d walked away from him earlier, but she wasn’t sure she’d have much luck doing that again. Her willpower was shot, and even worse, she didn’t want to get it back.

She stepped from the shower, dried off, but she stopped when the towel was on her stomach.

There
.

That was a reminder she did need—that she might be pregnant. Sophie managed to keep that pressed into her mind until she spotted Royce’s shirt that she’d draped over the towel rack. He’d taken it from the sheriff’s office since she had no other change of clothing there.

His shirt made her think of the man who owned it. If it carried his scent, then she was a lost cause.

She brought it to her face and sniffed.

Lost cause, all right
.

Even though it was clean, it had no doubt been in his locker at work with other clothing, and the scent had transferred. Just a trace. Just enough to remind her of that blasted heat.

Sophie got dressed in the shirt and yet another item of Royce’s clothes—a pair of his boxers. She had no other clean underwear with her so she washed her own panties and bra and hoped they’d dry soon. Until they did, she would literally be clothed in reminders of a man she couldn’t seem to forget anyway.

With her nerves zinging, she eased open the bathroom door and spotted Royce. Yes, on the bed. He’d taken off his boots and had his legs stretched out in front of him. His dark hair was rumpled, probably because he was idly scrubbing his hand through it while he had his attention plastered to the papers he was reading.

Everything about him was hot. That bedroom hair. His rugged face with the sexy stubble. That sensual mouth that made her crazy with heat. His hands.

Yes, those were plenty capable of creating heat, too.

He looked up and seemed to do a double take. That didn’t help with her nerves, and she glanced down to make sure everything important was covered. It was. His shirt went to her midthigh, and the boxers covered far more than her panties would have.

Royce’s gaze slid from her face, to her breasts and all the way to her legs. By the time he’d finished, Sophie felt as if he’d undressed her.

Worse, she felt as if she wanted him to undress her.

“They look better on you than on me,” he commented.

There seemed to be something unspoken at the end of that. Maybe something along the lines of she’d look better with nothing at all. But perhaps the ache in her body was filling in the blanks for her. This had to stop.

Had to.

And Sophie repeated that to herself.

“Find anything?” she asked, forcing herself to speak. Her nerves kicked in for a different reason. Those were the papers that could get her father arrested.

“Maybe.” His attention stayed on her for several more seconds before going back to the paper. “According to this, three people signed the land deal that was used to launder money. Your father, Travis and someone named Milton Wells. Any idea who he is?”