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The sound of the shot blasting through the air caused her fear to spike. She was pretty sure it hadn’t come from Declan’s gun but rather their attacker’s. And it sounded close. That meant the man likely hadn’t escaped after all, that instead he’d just changed positions so that he could ambush Declan.
“You okay, Declan?” someone shouted. Probably Wyatt.
Declan didn’t answer, and that didn’t help the fear roaring through her. Despite his order for her to stay put, Eden stayed crouched down, but she made her way to the window. It took her several heart-stopping moments before she caught just a glimpse of Declan. He peered around the edge of the house before he snapped back out of sight.
For a good reason.
Another shot. This one took out a chunk of the house right where Declan was.
Eden got her gun ready, and her gaze fired all around in an effort to see what she could of the house and grounds. She still didn’t see the shooter, but judging from the angle of that last shot, he was somewhere near Declan’s black truck. It was certainly large enough to conceal a man and give him decent cover, but the guy might also use it to escape.
She caught some movement from the corner of her eye. Not Declan. Not by the truck, either. This was on the other side of the yard near a cluster of cottonwoods with their winter-bare branches. Someone was behind the trunk of the largest tree, and even though she only got a glimpse of him, she thought it might be Wyatt. She hoped so anyway.
The shots stopped, and quiet settled in. Declan didn’t come out from cover. Neither did the shooter or the other man behind the cottonwood. The deafening shots had been bad enough, but the silence allowed her to think, and the only thing she could think about was just how deadly this had turned and how much worse it could get.
And then the silence shattered.
Declan shouted something, and he bolted out from the side of the house. Not standing up, either. He was on the ground and slid forward on the ice-crusted grass. Aiming low, he fired.
On the other side of the yard, the man behind the cottonwood did the same.
Both shots went in the direction of the truck. But not through it, beneath it. She heard the gunman howl in pain.
“Drop your weapon!” Declan shouted. He got to his feet and, using the trees for cover, he made his way closer to the truck.
It seemed to take an eternity, but the gunman finally limped out while he held on to the truck. Probably because, from what she could tell, he’d been shot in his lower left leg and upper right thigh. He threw his rifle onto the ground and lifted his left hand in the air.
“I need a doctor, quick.” The gunman’s voice was a hoarse growl and didn’t mask the pain.
His injuries didn’t seem to be life threatening, but he was bleeding. Eden didn’t have much sympathy for someone who’d just tried to kill them, but she wanted him alive. And talking.
The gunman was wearing dark clothes and a stocking cap, but she could see his face now. He was heavily muscled and had a wide nose that appeared to have been broken a couple of times. Part of her had hoped she might recognize him. A former disgruntled client, maybe. Or someone associated with her father. But no. He was a stranger.
“Call an ambulance,” Declan instructed Wyatt.
His brother stepped fully out from the cottonwood and took out his phone.
“Why are you here?” Declan asked the man. He kept his gun trained on him and walked closer.
“I’m on orders.” The man caught onto the truck with both hands, and that answer seemed to take a lot of effort. But at least now they knew he was a hired gun.
Well, unless he was lying.
Declan inched closer to the man. Wyatt, too, after he put his phone back in his pocket.
“The ambulance is on the way,” Wyatt relayed. “But my advice is for you to start talking.”
The man glanced around as if trying to figure out what to do. She prayed he didn’t try to pick up his gun and attempt an escape. It’d be suicide with two armed marshals closing in on him.
“Talking wouldn’t be good for my health,” he answered. “Call that ambulance and tell them to hurry up.”
Wyatt didn’t make an attempt to do that. Both Declan and he moved forward, both still using the trees as cover until they reached the clearing between the truck and them. The gunman didn’t appear to have any other weapons, but maybe Declan and Wyatt would stay put until the ambulance arrived. The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than she heard the sound.
Another blast.
Definitely a gunshot, but this one seemed to come out of nowhere. Eden shouted for Declan and his brother to get down, but her warning wasn’t necessary. They were already headed to the ground anyway, but they hadn’t managed to do that before there was another shot.
Then another.
Eden sucked in her breath hard, and with her gun gripped in her hand, she pivoted from one side to the other, bracing herself to see the shots slam into either Declan or Wyatt. Or both.
But that didn’t happen.
The gunman by the truck lurched forward, the impact of the bullets jolting through his body. It all happened in a split second, but he crumpled into a heap on the ground.
“Someone shot him,” she mumbled. And that someone wasn’t Declan or his brother.
“Who the hell fired those shots?” Declan asked.
But Wyatt only shook his head. “Not the guy in the back, because he’s dead. I had to shoot him.”
Eden got ready to return fire. Wyatt and Declan did the same, but there were no more shots. In fact, there was no sign of the person who’d just shot the gunman.
But there was another sound.
The roar of a car engine. It was on the west side of the property. Probably on the old ranch trail. Eden knew it was there because that was where she’d left her own vehicle.
“He’s getting away!” Declan shouted, and he raced in the direction of the sound.
That brought Eden back onto the porch, and she eased out into the yard, following Wyatt.
Toward the downed gunman.
Wyatt made it to the man first, and he stooped down, put his fingers to the man’s neck. Because of the angle of his face, Eden couldn’t see his expression, but she got a clear view of Declan’s when he started running back toward them.
Declan kept watch behind him, but he took out his phone and requested assistance. The ranch trail led to the main road, and he asked for someone to respond to that area immediately. He didn’t stop there. He hauled her behind the truck. Probably because he didn’t want her out in the open in case that gunman returned.
Wyatt met his brother’s gaze before he moved away from the man on the ground. “He’s dead.”
Declan mumbled something she didn’t catch, but she didn’t need to hear it to see the frustration in his eyes and face. “You’re sure the other gunman is dead, too?”
Wyatt nodded. “There was no ID on him. Nothing except extra ammo...and a note.”
That snagged both Declan’s and her attention. “What kind of note?” Declan asked.
Eden figured that whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Hired killers didn’t usually bring happy news.
“It’s a single sheet of paper, folded. It was sticking out of the guy’s pocket, but I looked at it when I saw Kirby’s name scrawled on the outside.”
“Why would a hired gun have a note addressed to your father?” she asked at the same time Declan asked, “What did the note say?”
Wyatt pulled in a long breath. “It didn’t make sense. It said something like, ‘This is just the beginning. You can’t save him.’”
Declan shook his head. “Who’s him?”
Wyatt met his gaze. “You, Declan.”
Chapter Five
Declan slipped on the latex gloves that he’d taken from his equipment bag at his house, stooped down and pulled the note from the dead man’s pocket. Yeah, it was addressed to Kirby all right.
“Is it really a death threat?” Eden asked. She was right behind him, peering over his shoulder. And she was shaking. Not just her voice, her whole body was trembling.
He figured Wyatt hadn’t gotten the contents of the message wrong, but Declan had to see it for himself. There wasn’t much to read.
This is just the beginning, Kirby Granger. You can’t save him. O’Malley’s a dead man.
It’d been handwritten almost in a childish scrawl with green crayon. Maybe as an attempt to disguise any handwriting characteristics. But Declan would have it analyzed anyway. He slipped it into a plastic evidence bag.
“Why does someone want you dead?” Eden asked.
She’d only been around him for the past couple of hours, and she’d already asked him that several times. Too bad it was a question he didn’t have an answer for.
He stood and started back toward his house, where the chaos was in full swing. A different kind of chaos from the attack. The crime-scene folks had arrived. Two of his brothers, Dallas and Slade. Sheriff Rico Geary and his deputies, too. It wasn’t exactly a local case what with the attempted murder of two federal marshals, but Geary had people in place to preserve the crime scene. Plus, the sheriff wouldn’t do anything to keep Declan and his brothers out of any part of this investigation.
Not that he could have anyway.
Declan wasn’t sure what’d happened here, but he would find out, one way or another. Apparently, Eden had the same idea, because she’d been on and off her phone since the attack. All of this was just for starters. Declan wanted to question Eden a lot more so he could try to pinpoint the person who’d set all of this in motion.
Maybe she knew.
Maybe she didn’t.
He was leaning toward didn’t since she’d nearly been killed. Most people didn’t protect a person who wanted them dead. And besides, she was genuinely worried about her two sisters, since most of her calls had centered on arranging extra protection for them. Declan would add his own layer of protection soon by calling the marshals in that area.
“This is connected to your foster father,” Eden said, falling into step beside him. “The note proves that.”
“No. The note proves nothing. Someone could have written it to muddy the waters.”
She made a slight sound of surprise, then frustration. Maybe because she hadn’t thought of that angle first. Still, Declan couldn’t take his muddy-water theory as gospel, and that meant talking to Kirby. Maybe there was something that connected all three of them—Eden, Kirby and him. Something linked to the photo of him and his family back in Germany. And Declan had a sickening feeling that it was a connection he wasn’t going to like.
“Thank you,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “For saving my life.”
Declan just gave a noncommittal grunt. He couldn’t issue a standard “you’re welcome” without choking on it, because he’d told her to stay put and she hadn’t.
Yeah, she was hardheaded all right. And up to her pretty neck in danger. A real bad combination. She had just enough guts and skills to get herself killed. Him, too, since his stupid body had decided to protect her. But then, protecting her was the only way to get those answers.
When they reached the front of his house, he saw the medical examiner’s crew loading the dead gunman into their van. The guy had the two gunshot wounds to the legs that Wyatt and he had given him. But it was the gaping hole in the back of his head that’d done him in.
“Not an amateur’s shot,” Declan mumbled.
Wyatt nodded in agreement and pointed to the woods directly ahead. They were thick and dark despite the lack of leaves. “Dallas and Slade are down there having a look around.”
Because it was probably where a rifleman had positioned himself to kill the gunman.
A hit man for the hit man.
Sometimes, karma worked. But in this case, it hadn’t worked in Declan’s favor.
“Any sign of the shooter?” Eden asked.
“None.” Wyatt clearly wasn’t happy about that, either. Neither was Declan. But they’d gotten someone out to the area as fast as possible and had simply missed the guy. Of course, if he was a pro, and Declan was pretty sure he was, then he would have had his escape route well planned out.
“There are some tire tracks,” Wyatt went on. “We’ll do castings of those.”
It was all standard procedure, but standard didn’t seem like nearly enough.
“Maybe we’re dealing with two factions here,” Eden said. “Someone’s trying to kill Declan and someone else is trying to protect him.”
“Or someone didn’t want the gunman to talk,” Wyatt supplied.
Declan was leaning toward that theory. And it meant the person behind this really didn’t want his or her identity revealed and wasn’t willing to risk a hired gun running his mouth.
“I’ll do mop-up,” Wyatt assured him, and the sheriff added his nod to that. Wyatt motioned for Declan to hand him the evidence bag with the note inside.
Declan hated to leave his brothers with the chore of processing a crime scene this big, and this personal, but there were other things that needed to be done. Plus, Eden’s trembling was getting worse with every passing second, and soon the adrenaline crash would hit her hard. Him, too. But at least he had some experience dealing with it. He was betting she didn’t.
“Come on,” Declan insisted.
But Eden held her ground when he tried to help her into the truck. “My car’s on the back trail, and I need to leave to check on my sisters.”
He looked her straight in the eye. “And what happens if the gunman comes after you when you’re with them, huh?”
She flinched, then quickly recovered. “The gunman will more likely come after you.”
“After us,” he corrected. “For whatever reason, someone involved you in this, and you’re not leaving my sight until I find out why. There’s also the part about you coming here to pretend to kill me.”
She budged, but after he practically pushed her into the cab of his truck. “You think I’m lying about being blackmailed into doing this?”
Declan shrugged, got in and drove away. “Not lying exactly, but maybe not telling me the whole truth.”
“I don’t know the whole truth,” she practically shouted. She groaned, a sound of pure frustration, and she yanked on her seat belt. “I just know I don’t want to be involved with this. Or with you.”
She stumbled over the last word, causing Declan to glance at her. There was just another of those disturbing split-second glances where he saw the unguarded expression in those baby blues. There was fear in her eyes. But something else.
Great.
It was the kind of look a woman gave a man. Not one she was hired to kill, either. It was a look that smacked of attraction, and it made Declan curse.
