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Her eyes practically doubled in size. “Oh, God,” she mumbled.
Yeah. Oh, God.
Thankfully, Wyatt would be expecting the worst and knew how to sneak up to the house without being seen.
“So what do we do?” she asked. “We can’t just wait. He’ll be expecting me to walk out there.”
“Then he’ll be disappointed, won’t he? If he wants you dead—and I’m pretty sure he does—then he can send his lackey in to do the job.”
She mumbled another “Oh, God,” and practically slumped against him. “This could have been all about me. Maybe to set me up for your murder. Maybe I made the wrong enemy.”
“That’s one real good possibility. Or it could be he wants us both dead. A two-birds-with-one-stone kind of deal. Maybe we both made the wrong enemies.”
But why had this moron sent her the pictures of him? Especially that one photo of him and his family? The image of it was branded into his head, but seeing it again had brought the nightmare flooding back.
Hell.
After all these years, the nightmare was still there even though he had no memories of the day his family had been murdered. No clues to give the cops to help them find the person or persons responsible. Ironic, since his life now was all about finding justice for others, and he hadn’t found it for his own kin.
“When the person called you to set all of this up, did he give you any other details about my family?” Declan asked.
“No.” Eden made a soft sound of frustration. “But I did a background check to see if I could find any connection. I couldn’t.” She paused. “I couldn’t even find a record of your birth parents.”
Because there wasn’t one, and Declan should know because he’d searched for it for years. His cousin, Meg, had disappeared after she’d abandoned him at the Rocky Creek facility. That meant Declan had no idea if he even had any living relatives.
“When I was a kid, I asked anyone who might know something about my mom and dad,” he told her, “but I never got any answers.”
“Maybe the person who killed your family is behind this.”
Yeah. More of the nightmare. The killer returning, and this time there’d be no cellar. No place to hide. But he wasn’t a little boy any longer. He was a federal marshal who’d been trained by the best: his foster dad, Kirby. Declan could take care of himself, but at the moment, that wasn’t his biggest worry.
The killer could go after his family again.
His new family. The one he’d had since he’d left Rocky Creek sixteen years ago.
His brothers—Dallas, Clayton, Harlan, Slade and Wyatt—could also protect themselves, but Kirby was another matter. He was weak from chemo treatments and couldn’t fight off a fly. His long-time friend, Stella, was in the same boat. No chemo for her, but Declan figured she wasn’t capable of taking on hired guns, especially now. Both Kirby and she were no doubt still at the Maverick Springs hospital for an overnight stay, where Kirby was getting his latest round of treatments.
Just the thought of someone hurting Kirby had Declan reaching for his phone again, but it buzzed before he could make a call and have someone go to the hospital.
“You’ve got more than two problems, little brother,” Wyatt immediately greeted him. “In addition to the rifle guy out front, there’s another one on the west side of the house, right by the road that leads off the ranch.”
Oh, man. One gunman and a P.I. that he maybe couldn’t trust were bad enough, but now there was a third piece in this dangerous puzzle.
“Clayton’s on the way,” Wyatt added.
Declan didn’t want that, even if he might need the extra backup. “Send him to the hospital to guard Kirby.”
“You think he’s in danger?”
“Could be.” And it sickened Declan to even think that.
“My sisters need protection, too,” Eden blurted out. “Trish and Alice Gray. They’re both students at the University of Texas. I have a bodyguard watching them, but it might not be enough.”
Her plea certainly sounded convincing, but Declan wasn’t about to give her blanket trust just yet.
He heard Wyatt make a call and request the protection for all three—Kirby and the Gray sisters. Declan was hoping it was overkill, but he had a sickening feeling that this situation had already gotten out of hand.
“Try to neutralize the guy on the road,” Declan instructed his brother. “I’ll deal with the one out front.” He didn’t wait for his brother to agree. Wyatt would.
Declan shoved his phone into his pocket. “Wait here.”
Eden was shaking her head before he even finished. “I can give you some backup.”
“No. You’ll stay here.” Declan didn’t leave much room for argument, though he briefly considered returning her gun just in case the guy managed to get in the front door. However, there was that part about him not trusting her.
He took her by the arm and practically shoved her behind his sofa. “Stay put, and that’s not a suggestion.”
Whether she would or not was anyone’s guess, but Declan couldn’t worry about that now. He had to take care of this situation and then check on Kirby.
Declan locked the front door, though it wouldn’t stop a gunman from shooting through the wood and getting inside.
With Eden.
And that was what Declan couldn’t let happen, especially if it turned out that she was just a pawn in all of this. Even if she wasn’t a pawn, she could still have the answers he needed to figure out what the heck was going on.
He grabbed some extra ammo for his Colt from the top of his fridge, crammed it in his coat pocket and headed to the back door. He looked out to make sure there wasn’t another gunman lying in wait.
The backyard appeared to be empty, so Declan eased open the door and stepped onto the porch. He took a moment, listening, but didn’t hear any unusual sounds.
He hurried down the steps and to the side of the house. Using it for cover, he looked out and spotted the tree with the small camera mounted on the branch. The rifleman was there, beneath that camera, and he still had both his gun and attention fastened to the front of the house. Declan had a clear look at his face, but it wasn’t familiar. Maybe they’d get lucky with the recognition software or the interrogation he planned to do once he had these dirtbags in custody.
Declan froze when he heard something. Footsteps. But not from outside. They were coming from inside the house, and he cursed Eden for not listening to him. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t do something stupid like walk outside.
The thought had no sooner crossed his mind than he heard the back door open, and he saw Eden step out onto the porch. She had a gun. A little Smith & Wesson that she’d probably had concealed somewhere on her body. He cursed again. Damn. He should have taken the time to frisk her.
Too late for that now, though.
Declan caught the movement from the corner of his eye. From the guy with the rifle. The man stood. Not slow and easy, either. He flew to a standing position, and with that same lightning speed, he pivoted directly toward Declan.
And took aim.
“Get down!” Declan yelled to Eden.
He dived back behind the house, toward the porch and Eden, just as she dropped to the weathered wooden planks. She hadn’t even gotten fully down when the sound blasted through the air.
A shot.
And it hadn’t come from the direction of the rifleman but rather the west side of his property.
Where his brother had spotted the other gunman.
A jolt of fear went through Declan. Not for himself but for Wyatt. Maybe his brother had been ambushed, because that wasn’t a shot fired from the Colt that Wyatt would almost certainly be carrying.
Declan turned and tried to pick through the woods to see if he could spot the shooter. But there came another blast. And another. Not from the west this time.
The shots slammed into the side of his house and porch.
Hell.
Eden and he were caught in the crossfire of a gunfight.
Chapter Four
Eden’s heart slammed against her chest. The blasts from those shots roared through her entire body. And she wasn’t sure what she should do to get herself out of the line of fire.
Declan made the decision for her.
He took hold of her arm and dragged her off the porch and onto the steps, just inches from where he was trying to watch both the back and side of the house. Eden kept a firm grip on her backup weapon, and even though she landed in a sprawl, she levered herself up enough so that she could take aim.
“Don’t shoot,” Declan snarled, snagging her hand again. “My brother’s out there.”
Yes, but out there where? Eden’s gaze fired all around them, but she couldn’t see his brother or the shooters, only the bullets as they pelted into the frozen ground and porch.
“How soon before your brother can move closer and help us get out of this?” she asked.
“Maybe not soon enough.” Declan turned slightly and fired a shot in the direction of the gunman in the tree. “Why the hell did you come out here anyway?”
Her heart was pounding in her ears, and it took her a few seconds to actually hear that question. “Because I don’t trust you.”
The glance he gave her could have frozen fire. “The feeling’s mutual, darlin’.”
That wasn’t exactly a surprise—and darlin’ wasn’t a term of endearment—but Eden had had no choice about what she’d done. If she hadn’t come here, the man behind this would have no doubt just sent someone else. Someone who would have gone through with the job, leaving her in danger with the militia groups.
“And I came out here because I thought I could help,” she added. “I didn’t think it was fair for me to be tucked away inside while you fought this fight for me.”
He made another of those sarcastic sounds. “I’m not doing it for you. Might not have noticed, but they’re shooting at me, too. And my brother. That makes this my fight.” And he fired another shot.
The gunman retaliated. His next shot smacked into the corner of the house, causing Declan to curse and haul her closer to him. He practically climbed on top of her, shielding her with his body. It was his training that’d kicked in, no doubt, because after everything that’d just gone on inside his house, there’s no way he’d truly want to protect her.
Unless it was just so he could interrogate her.
Yes, that had to be it.
He’d want the truth. Heck, so did she, and he wasn’t going to be pleased when he realized she didn’t have it. First, though, they had to survive this, and the way the bullets were coming at them, that might not happen.
The new position with Declan was far from comfortable. Her pressed against the icy ground. Him pressed against her. Every muscle in his body was tight and primed.
The shooter in the tree fired more shots, but in the mix of those battering sounds, Eden heard a different shot. Declan no doubt heard it as well, because his attention shifted from the front to the back. He didn’t fire. He just lay there, waiting.
It didn’t take long for Eden to realize the gunman at the back of the property was no longer firing. Unlike the tree shooter. That guy picked up the pace, the shots coming at them nonstop.
Declan and she needed to move, since the bullets were tearing their way through the side of the house. Soon the wooden planks wouldn’t provide any cover for them at all. But they probably shouldn’t move onto the porch, not with the other gunman still out back.
Except he wasn’t shooting.
No one back there was.
Still, Declan didn’t budge. Didn’t return fire, either. Maybe because he was running low on ammunition.
His phone buzzed, and without taking his attention off the gunman, Declan pressed the button to answer it. He didn’t put the call on speaker, but Eden was close enough to hear his brother Wyatt.
“The gunman back here is down,” Wyatt said. “I’m moving closer to check and see if he’s alive. Don’t think he is, though.”
Declan clipped off most of the groan that left his mouth. “Get to him fast, and if there’s an ounce of breath left in him, make him talk. I’m moving my visitor back inside.”
And that was exactly what Declan started to do the moment he ended the call. He fired a shot at the gunman, hauled Eden to her feet and they scrambled across the porch and back into the house. Once they were inside, he pointed to the sofa.
“Get behind that and stay there,” Declan ordered, and there was no mistaking that it was an order. He hurried back to the window, the broken glass crunching beneath his boots.
Eden did get behind the sofa, but she hated that Declan was the one taking the risks here. They were in this mess together, and she only wished she’d been able to figure out a way to diffuse this before it had ever started.
She thought of her sisters. Of the danger they were in, too. They didn’t deserve this. Neither did she. The sins of the father were coming at them with a vengeance.
Maybe.
And maybe this had more to do with Declan.
Maybe this had nothing to do with her at all. Or her father. Maybe there was some other connection between Declan and her that she’d missed. Once they were out of this, she had to beef up security for her sisters and do some more digging, because there were a lot of unanswered questions.
“Hell,” Declan grumbled. He fired out the gaping holes in the window where there’d once been glass. And he cursed again. He shot her a glance from over his shoulder. “Stay here, and this time you’d better do it.”
Eden shook her head. “You’re not going back out there.”
“The gunman’s getting away.”
No, that couldn’t happen. Especially if the other gunman was dead. They needed this one alive so they could question him and learn who’d hired him to do this. And why. If he got away, Eden figured it wouldn’t be the end of it. The guy’s boss would just regroup and launch another attack. And this time, she might not be able to protect her family.
Still, she didn’t want Declan shot, or worse.
She was about to offer backup again, which she knew he’d refuse, but Eden didn’t even get to make the offer. Declan ran out of the room, and a moment later she heard him leave through the back door.
Eden held her breath and tried to pick through the sounds around her—the ticking clock on the mantel, the wind outside, her own body shivering from the cold that was pouring in through the window—and she heard footsteps on the back porch. In case it wasn’t Declan, she turned in that direction. Aimed her gun. And tried to brace herself for whatever might happen.
It was entirely possible that the gunman wasn’t getting away at all but would backtrack and come through that front door. She knew for a fact that it wasn’t locked. Neither door had been when she’d arrived at the place earlier. Obviously, Declan hadn’t been concerned about security.
He would be now.
If he survived this, that is.
