“It doesn’t matter that I’m your usual type, because I’m still the wrong woman.”

“You got it.” He flashed a half smile that melted that ball of ice in her stomach. “But then, I’m the wrong man for you.” No half smile now. “And I’m pretty sure that makes this one of those irresistible situations we’re just going to have to resist. Or at least keep reminding ourselves to do it.”

Yes. She wondered, though, if a reminder would be just wasting mental energy. “I don’t want to find you attractive.” But she did. Mercy, did she. On a scale of one to ten, he was a six hundred, and even with the danger, he fired every nerve in her body.

Justice is Coming

Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why USA TODAY bestselling author and former air force captain DELORES FOSSEN feels as if she were genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter One

Marshal Declan O’Malley eased the saddle off his chestnut stallion. He tried not to make any sudden moves, and he didn’t look over his shoulder, though Declan was pretty sure someone was watching him.

That “pretty sure” became a certainty when he spotted the footprints on the partially frozen ground.

What the heck was going on?

Since he’d been a federal marshal for nearly six years, he was accustomed to having people want to do him bodily harm, but threats like that rarely came right to his doorstep.

Or rather to his barn.

Declan put the saddle on the side of the watering trough and adjusted his buckskin jacket so he could reach the Colt in his belt holster. He gave the chestnut’s rump a gentle slap, and as Declan had hoped he’d do, the stallion headed for some hay in the side corral. If there was going to be a shootout, Declan sure didn’t want his horse caught up in the gunfire.

He stepped to the side of the barn door. And waited.

Listening.

But the only thing he could hear was the bitter December wind rattling the bare trees scattered around the grounds. He didn’t mind the cold when he was on his daily ride, but he minded it a lot when he was waiting for something bad to happen.

Or maybe not bad.

He looked at the footprints again. Small. Like a woman’s. He hadn’t been in a relationship in the past three or four months, but maybe this was an old girlfriend come to visit. Still, it didn’t feel like something that simple.

Or that fun.

His house wasn’t exactly on the beaten path, not even by rural-Texas standards. He was literally on the back forty acres of his foster family’s horse-and-cattle ranch. A good ten miles from the town of Maverick Springs, and with not even a paved road leading to his place. Besides, there wasn’t much of value in his small wood-frame house to make it a target for thieves.

Declan glanced around. Kept listening. And when he was finally fed up with the cold, he drew his Colt and moved away from the barn door so he could follow those footprints. From the looks of it, the prints started at the back of his barn, and that meant somebody had probably walked in from the pasture and checked out the barn itself.

Maybe looking for him.

Or looking to make sure he’d indeed gone on his daily ride.

And then the trespasser had made her way to the back of his house. Declan went in that direction now, using the trees for cover.

Finally, he saw something.

Or rather someone.

There was a person dressed in dark clothes and equally dark sunglasses peering around the edge of his back porch. Judging from her size, it was probably a woman, though he couldn’t be positive since his visitor was wearing a black baseball cap slung low on her head, and the brim covered most of her face. Declan expected her to duck out of sight when she spotted him.

She didn’t.

She put her index finger to her mouth in a keep-quiet gesture.

What the hell?

And just to confuse things even more, she motioned for him to come closer.

Declan debated it. He debated calling out to her, too, but she frantically shook her head and made that keep-quiet gesture again.

He looked to see if she was armed. Couldn’t tell. But since she’d had ample opportunity to shoot at him and hadn’t, Declan decided to take his chances. He didn’t put his gun away, but he went closer.

Yeah, it was a woman all right. About five-six, with an average build. Judging from the strands of hair that had slipped out from the back of the baseball cap, she was a brunette.

“Inside,” she whispered and tipped her head to his back door. “Please,” she added.

Well, if she was a criminal, she was a polite one, that was for sure. The please didn’t sway Declan one bit, but her shaky voice did. There was fear in it. Or something. Something that told him she wasn’t a killer.

Well, probably not.

He’d been wrong before. And he had the scar on his chest to prove it.

But did that stop him?

Much to his disgust, nope, it didn’t. He’d never been a cautious man, and while this seemed like a really good time to start, Declan went even closer, still looking for any sign that she was armed.

Okay, she was.

Without any prompting, his mysterious visitor opened the side of her jacket to show him the gun—a Glock—that she had tucked in a shoulder holster. Since she made no attempt to draw it, Declan walked even closer, up the side steps. He also tapped the badge he had pinned to his holster, just in case she didn’t know she was dealing with a deputy U.S. marshal.

She kept her head down so he still didn’t have a good look at her face. “I know exactly who you are, Declan O’Malley,” she whispered.

Well, that wasn’t much of a stretch. Everyone in Maverick Springs knew who he was. He and his five foster brothers, who were all marshals, too. Anyone could have found out his name and where he lived within minutes after arriving in town. Heck, he didn’t even have a burglar alarm because he figured no one would be stupid enough to do what this woman was apparently trying to do.

“Inside,” she repeated.

It wasn’t caution but rather common sense that had him staying put when she turned toward his door. “I want answers first,” he insisted.

“Shh.” The fear in her body language went up a significant notch, and she fired a few nervous glances around his yard.

Confused and now somewhat riled at, well, whatever the heck this was, Declan followed her glances but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Only the woman.

He cupped her chin, lifted it.

And groaned.

Yeah. He recognized her all right, and it wasn’t a good kind of recognition, either.

Eden Gray.

What in the Sam Hill was she doing here at his house?

He opened his mouth to demand some answers but her hand flew up, and she pressed her fingers to his mouth. Cold fingers at that.

But soft.

And she smelled like some kind of girlie hand lotion. It definitely didn’t go with that Glock she was carrying or the fact that she was trespassing.

“They might hear you,” she whispered. “Inside,” she insisted again.

“They?”

She eased down her fingers, stepped back and yanked off her glasses. Those eyes caught him off guard for just a moment. Ice blue but somehow without a hint of cold in them. Definitely memorable, but he hadn’t needed to see her eyes to know this was a blast from his past that he didn’t want or need.

Well, a blast he didn’t need anyway.

For a split second, his body overrode his brain, and that whole want thing came into play. In those brief moments, he didn’t see Eden Gray, a person who despised him, but rather a hot woman. One who just happened to be armed and acting crazy.

She swallowed hard.

Something different went through her eyes. Not fear, but Declan recognized the look. It was the quick glance that a woman gave a man when she was interested but didn’t want to be.

Declan was afraid he was giving her the same look right back. Oh, man. One day he was going to learn to think with his head only and not some other body part that often got him into trouble.

She swallowed hard again. Turned. And she eased open the door. Sorry, she mouthed.

Declan didn’t ask for what. He didn’t want to know. He only wanted answers, and that was why he followed her inside to his kitchen.

“Why are you here?” he demanded.

But she still didn’t answer. She hurried to the window over his sink and looked out. She did another of those shifty glances that he often did when he was doing surveillance or in the presence of danger.

“You obviously remember me,” she finally said.

He gave her a flat look. “Obviously.”

“This way,” Eden added. “I have to show you something.” And she headed toward his living room that was only a few yards away.

She would have made it there, too, but Declan snagged her by the arm and whirled her back around to face him. “Remembering you doesn’t tell me why you’re here. Now spill it, or I’m tossing you out.”

“You can’t.” Eden was breathing through her mouth now, and her pulse was jumping in her throat. But that didn’t stop her from shaking off his grip, catching his arm and pulling him into the living room.

“Stay away from the windows,” she warned.

Just on principle and because he was now about twelve steps past being ornery, Declan considered doing the opposite of anything she was asking. “Give me a reason why I should stay away from my own window.”

“There’s a tiny camera attached to the big oak on the right side of your front porch.” Her breath trembled in her throat. “And they’re watching the front of the house. Maybe trying to listen, too.”

Declan shook his head, stared at her and made a circling motion with his gun for her to continue. He needed more. A lot more, but he needed that “a lot more” to make sense. So far, that wasn’t happening.

“Did you miss a dose of meds or something?” he asked.

“No.” She stretched that out a few syllables. “I’m not crazy. And I have a good reason for being here.”

He stared at her, made the circling motion with his hand again.

“I got here about a half hour ago, while you were out riding,” she said. “I’ve watched you for the past two days, so I know you take a ride this time of morning before you go in to work.”

Well, it was an answer all right, but it didn’t answer much. “You watched me?”

She nodded.

“Really?” And he didn’t take the skepticism out of it, either.

Until this morning when he’d reined in at the barn, he hadn’t felt or seen anyone watching him yesterday or the day before. Of course, he’d had a lot on his mind what with his foster father, Kirby Granger, battling cancer. The thought of losing Kirby had been weighing on him. Maybe enough for him to not notice someone stalking him.

He looked her straight in the eye. “Are you going to make me arrest you, or do you plan to keep going with that explanation?”

She made a soft sound of frustration, looked out the window again. “I’m a P.I. now. I own a small agency in San Antonio.”

She’d skipped right over the most important detail of her brief bio. “Your father’s Zander Gray, a lowlife swindling scum. I arrested him about three years ago for attempting to murder a witness who was going to testify against him, and he was doing hard time before he escaped.”

And this was suddenly becoming a whole lot clearer.

“He sent you here,” Declan accused.

“No,” she quickly answered. “I’m not even sure he’s alive.”

Okay, maybe not so clear after all.

“But my father might have been the reason they contacted me in the first place,” Eden explained. “They might have thought I’d do anything to get back at you for arresting him. I won’t.”

He made a sound of disagreement. “Since you’re trespassing and have been stalking me, convince me otherwise that you’re not here to avenge your father.”

“I’m not.” Not a whisper that time. And there was some fire in those two little words. “But someone’s trying to set me up. Earlier this week someone broke into my office, planted some fake financials on my computer and changed the password so I can’t delete them from the server. That someone is trying to make it look as if I’m funneling money to a radical militia group buying illegal firearms.”

Declan thought about that a second. “Lady, if you wanted me to investigate that, you didn’t have to follow me or come to my ranch. My office is on Main Street in town.”

Another headshake. “They didn’t hire me to go to your office.”

Mercy. It was hard to hang on to his temper with this roundabout conversation. “There it is again. That they. They put up the camera that you don’t want me to go to the window and see. So who are they?”

“I honestly don’t know.” She dodged his gaze, tried to turn away, but he took hold of her again and forced her to face him. “After I realized someone had planted that false info on my computer, I got a call from a man using a prepaid cell phone. I didn’t recognize his voice. He said if I went to the cops or the marshals, he’d release the info on my computer and I’d be arrested.”

And maybe she would be. Because some cops might assume like father, like daughter.

But was she?

Declan pushed that question aside. Right now, that didn’t matter. “This unknown male caller is the one who put the camera outside?”

“I think so. If not him, then someone working with or for him. All I know is it’s there because I saw a man wearing a ski mask installing it right after you left for your ride.”

He shook his head. “If they sent you to watch me, why use a camera?”

“Because the camera is to watch me,” she clarified. “To make sure I do what he ordered me to do.”

“And what exactly are you supposed to do?” Declan demanded.

Eden Gray shoved her hand over her Glock. “Kill you.”

Chapter Two

Declan O’Malley came at her so fast that Eden didn’t even see it coming until it was too late.

Even though he was tall and lanky, he still packed a wallop when he slammed into her, knocking her back against the wall. In the same motion, he ripped her gun from her shoulder holster, tossed it behind him and jammed his own weapon beneath her chin.

“Kill me?” His teeth were clenched now. Jaw, too. And even though there were no lights on in the living room, she had no trouble seeing the venom in his eyes.

Eden was certain there was no venom in hers. Just fear. It’d been a huge risk coming here. From everything she’d read and heard about him, Declan could be a dangerous man. Still, she hadn’t had a choice. If she was going to die, she’d rather it be at his hands than others’.

“The man who called me on the burner cell ordered me to kill you,” Eden managed to say. Though it was hard to speak with the marshal’s body pressed against her chest. It was hard to breathe, too.

But maybe Declan himself was responsible for that.

Eden had known that he fell into the drop-dead-hot category. Tall, dark, deadly. However, what she hadn’t known was that despite the danger and this insane situation, she would feel the punch of attraction. She’d never expected to feel it for this man, but it was there.

You’re losing it, Eden.

Declan O’Malley was the job. For some huge reasons, especially one, he couldn’t be anything else.

“Why does he want me dead?” he demanded.

“I don’t know. That’s the truth,” Eden added when he made a “yeah, right” sound. “He just told me if I didn’t kill you that he’d release the info he planted on my computer.”

No “yeah, right” this time, but his left eyebrow lifted. “You’d kill me rather than risk charges for funneling money to a militia group?”

Eden lifted her own eyebrow. She wasn’t feeling especially brave, definitely not like the cocky man looming in front of her. The seconds were ticking away, and with each one of them, the risk got higher and higher. Someway, somehow, she had to get this hot cowboy marshal to go along with an asinine plan that had little or no chance of succeeding.

Still, little was better than zero.

Without warning, he yanked the baseball cap from her head and threw it in the direction her Glock had landed. Her hair was in a ponytail, but it dropped against her shoulder. He studied it. Then her eyes. Every inch of her face. Maybe trying to figure out if she was telling him the truth. Or maybe he was just giving her the twice over as she’d done to him.

She hoped not.

They didn’t need both of them feeling this involuntary heat.

“You sure this isn’t about your father?” he pressed.

“I’m sure. I haven’t heard from him since he escaped from jail.”

And she didn’t want to get into that sore subject now. Declan had arrested her father, and then her father had escaped. It wouldn’t do any good to mention that she believed her father was innocent of at least the most serious charge—attempted murder. That really wouldn’t help in getting Declan to cooperate if she questioned his lawman’s skills of apprehending a guilty suspect.

“Could you at least move the gun?” Eden asked. “Because we need to talk. I figure at most I’ve got twenty minutes left before someone will want to know why I haven’t fired a shot.”

She was being generous with that timeline. The mysterious caller had told her to show Declan ASAP what she’d been sent. Why, she didn’t know, but it seemed as if that was only to taunt him.

Or rile him even more than he already was.

Like poking an ornery rattler with a short stick. It hardly seemed wise, but she would show him. And hope for a way out of this.

Declan slid his intense green eyes to the gun, then back to her. “Yes to the talking. No to moving the gun.”

There was just a touch of an Irish brogue beneath that Texas drawl. A strange combination. And one she might have enjoyed hearing if his finger wasn’t on the trigger of the gun pressed to her throat.

“I agreed to kill you because I didn’t have a choice,” Eden explained. No beautiful lilt to her words. Her voice was strained like the rest of her. One big giant nerve. “If the planted info had been leaked, it would have set off an opposing militia group that would in turn kill me, the rest of my family and anyone they thought might be a friend of mine.”

Finally, he let up a little on the pressure to her chest and eased back a fraction. Still close. Still touching. He probably hadn’t realized that he had his right leg shoved between hers. Eden’s gaze drifted in that direction. Then back up at Declan.

Correction. He’d noticed.

But clearly he didn’t plan to do anything about the intimate contact between them.

“I have two sisters,” she added. “They’re nineteen and twenty. Barely adults, and they’ve been through more than enough with my father’s arrest and disappearance. They don’t deserve to die because someone’s targeting you.”

“You could have arranged for them and you to be protected,” he pointed out.

“I did the best I could, but there’s no place to hide from these men. Eventually they’d get through any security I could set up. They proved that by hacking into my computer and leaving that bogus info.”

Declan made another sound that led her to believe he was making fun of her.

“You ever killed a man before?” he challenged, but he didn’t wait for Eden to answer. “My guess is no.”

He put his face right next to hers. So close that the brim of his midnight-black Stetson scraped against her forehead. It was hard to tell where the Stetson ended and his hair began, because they were the same color.

“And my second guess is that you can’t kill me,” he went on. “Of course, that’s not really a guess since I wouldn’t let you get the chance.”

“I wasn’t planning to kill you,” she said, but had to clear her throat and repeat it so it’d have sound. Great. She was acting like a wuss rather than a P.I. with her family’s lives, and hers, at stake.

“You’re here with a gun,” he reminded her.

“I didn’t intend to use it. Well, not to shoot you anyway. I will have to fire, though, because I want whoever’s on the other end of that camera to believe you’re dead. And to make sure that person doesn’t come in here and try to do the job himself, I need to fire soon.”

With his gaze still pinned to hers, he backed up again. “Maybe we should do just that—let the person come in here and try to kill me,” he suggested. “If he’s really out there. He won’t get far. I’m thinking a step in the house. Two at most. And I wouldn’t let him get off the first shot.”

“I don’t doubt it. But I can’t risk that. His death could start a chain reaction that’ll get my sisters killed.”

Thankfully, he didn’t disagree with that. Well, not verbally anyway. “Tell me everything you know about the person who hired you to do this.”

“There isn’t time.” Eden tried to look out the window to make sure no one was coming, but the angle was wrong. “He said I had to have the job done by seven-thirty. It’s seven-twenty now.”

“Make time,” he countered.

Eden huffed and tried to think of the fastest explanation. It wasn’t too hard because she didn’t know a lot of facts. “I don’t have a clue who he is. As I said, he used an untraceable cell phone. It’s the same with the info he emailed me about you. I tried to track down the source, but it led me to a coffee shop in San Antonio where hundreds of people use the internet each day. There aren’t any security cameras and no surveillance feed from nearby businesses.”

He gave her another hard look. “What info about me did he email you?”

“It’s on my phone.”

Eden glanced in the direction of her pocket, where his hip was still brushing against hers. She waited until he nodded before she reached between them, and the back of her hand did more than brush. She had no choice but to touch him in a place that she shouldn’t be touching.

He still didn’t back away.

But Declan did make a slight sound of discomfort.

Eden knew how he felt. This wasn’t comfortable for her, either, and it was even worse because touching him wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as it should have been. After all, he was holding her at gunpoint.

Still, it was time to poke that rattler.

She went through the emails on her phone until she reached the first one the man had sent her. It was a series of photos with just four words: Your target, Declan O’Malley.

She went through the shots, the first a recent one of him wearing his gun and badge and going into the marshals’ building in Maverick Springs. It appeared to have been taken from a camera with a long-range lens.

Eden showed Declan the photo and went to the next one, a close-up of him at the diner across the street from his office. Probably taken with the same long-range camera since it had a grainy texture.

“Did you have any idea you were being photographed?” she asked, hoping that maybe he’d seen the person who’d snapped these shots.

Declan shook his head, and while his expression didn’t change much, Eden figured that had to bother him. It was a violation, something she knew loads about since this whole computer-hacking incident.

She clicked to another photo of Declan in his truck, turning onto the road that led to his foster family’s ranch and to his own place. The next shot was of his license plate.

And then Eden got to the last one.

The puzzling one.

It was an old wedding photo of four adults and a young boy. Even though the person who’d emailed it to her hadn’t identified by name all the people in the group shot, he had said that the child was Declan. He was about four years old, dressed in his Sunday best, and the people surrounding him were his parents, an uncle and the uncle’s bride. They were all smiling. A happy-family photo.

It didn’t make Declan happy now.

He closed his eyes for just a split second, and then he cursed, using some really foul language. And Eden knew why. She, too, was personally familiar with bad memories. And despite the smiles, this photo was indeed a bad memory, because in less than twenty-four hours after it’d been taken, Declan’s life had turned on a dime.

Or rather turned on a different kind of metal.

Some bullets.

“The information this hacker gave me was that the photo was of your family in Germany,” Eden said. “They were all murdered when you were four years old.”

Declan took a moment, inhaled a slightly deeper breath. “Why the hell did he send you that?”

Eden shook her head. “I was hoping you could tell me. The person also said your name had been changed after the murders.”

“It was. Twice. But as far as I know, no other living person has that specific information. Except maybe my family’s killer.”

Was that it? Was that the connection?

“What does this photo have to do with the order the hacker gave me to kill you?” she asked.

He snatched the phone from her, backed up, but he still didn’t lower his gun. He kept it aimed right at her while he glanced out the window. Maybe to see if the camera installer was returning. He apparently wasn’t, because Declan’s attention went back to the photos. There weren’t more to see, but he paused for a long time on that last one.

The bad-memory one.

“I’ve been digging, but I don’t have many answers,” she admitted. “Still, I have to believe that picture has something to do with all of this or he wouldn’t have sent it to me.”

Eden paused, hoping Declan didn’t shoot her for asking what she had to ask. “What do you remember about your family’s murders? Who killed them? Because the person sent me links of the old crime, but all the articles said the culprit was an unknown assailant.”

A sterile term for something far from sterile.

“I don’t know who killed them.” He was in control again. The tough cowboy lawman, and he was glaring at her, maybe because he didn’t believe she was innocent in all of this.

And maybe she wasn’t.

Eden didn’t know if she was one hundred percent blameless, but that was what she intended to find out—after she bought herself and her sisters some time.

“I don’t have any memories of the attack,” Declan finally added. “According to the shrink the cops made me see, I blocked them out.”

Too bad. But Eden cringed at the thought. Maybe blocking them out had been the only way Declan had survived. That and being hidden in a cellar while his family was murdered. If he hadn’t been in that cellar, he would have been killed, as well. In fact, Eden was afraid that Declan was the reason they’d been killed in the first place.

Judging from the look in his eyes, he thought so, too.

He groaned, dropped back another step and shoved her phone in his front pocket. Maybe so he’d have a free hand to scrub over his face—which he did.

“What’s the first memory you do have after the murders?” she asked.

“A few days later.” And that was all he said for several long moments. “The local cops put me in protective custody, gave me a fake name and eventually sent me to a distant cousin, Meg Tanner, in Ireland. I lived on and off with her and then some of her friends in County Clare for eight years before she brought me to Texas.”

Yes, because Meg had learned she had Parkinson’s disease and could no longer take care of Declan. Or at least that was the info Eden had been given by the mystery person who’d orchestrated this visit to Declan’s place.

“Eventually your cousin took you to the Rocky Creek Children’s Facility,” Eden supplied. “Why there?”

“She just said I’d be safe there. I got another name, the one I use now, and Kirby said I shouldn’t talk about my past to anyone. So I didn’t.”

Eden took up the rest of the explanation. “The facility didn’t normally take boys your age, but they made an exception. Actually, someone there faked the paperwork so you could be admitted.”

Declan glared again. “How do you know that?”

“Despite what you think of me, I’m a good P.I. I know how to find information, even when someone wants that information hidden.”

Though it had been especially challenging to get any records from the notorious facility because of an ongoing investigation into the murder of the orphanage’s headmaster, Jonah Webb. According to what she’d learned, Webb’s wife had murdered him sixteen and a half years ago when Declan was just thirteen years old and his five foster brothers had all been living at Rocky Creek.

And Webb’s wife had an unknown accomplice.

Declan and all five of his foster brothers were suspects. So was their foster father, Kirby Granger, the retired marshal who had “rescued” Declan and his foster brothers and then raised them on his sprawling ranch.

That led Eden to her next question. “Is this connected to Jonah Webb’s murder investigation?”

Declan certainly didn’t jump to deny it, and coupled with that photo of him as a child, this might be one very complex puzzle. Something they didn’t have time for right now.

“I need to fire the gun,” Eden reminded him, checking the time again. “The person who set this up needs to believe you’re dead.”

“So you’ve said,” he argued.

Eden was sure her mouth dropped open. “You don’t believe me?”

“Why should I?”

It took her a moment to get control of her voice so she could speak. “Why else would I have come here? Why else would I have those pictures of you?”

Declan gave her a flat look. “You tell me.”

Oh, mercy. She hadn’t expected Declan to blindly go along with the faked-death plan, but Eden had figured the photos would have at least convinced him that he was in danger. And not from her. But from the same person who could get her and her sisters killed the hard way.

She walked closer to him. “Look, I don’t want to be here, and I darn sure don’t want to be involved in this mess. I have enough going on in my life—”

“Enough going on that you could have cut a deal with someone to kill me. I’ve made enemies.”

Yes, he had made enemies. Plenty of them. For whatever reason, maybe old baggage from his childhood, Declan volunteered to take the worst cases. Scum of the scum. And men like that didn’t forgive and forget easily. They would often try to take revenge against the lawman who’d arrested them.

“I’m not disputing that people might want you dead,” Eden said. “But why come to me? Why involve me in this other than because you arrested my father? I think even you have to admit that’s a thin connection.”

“Maybe.” Clearly, he wasn’t admitting that at all. He reached down, picked up her gun and shoved it into the waistband of his jeans. “Come on. You’re going to the marshals’ office with me so I can take a statement.”

Eden held her ground when he latched on to her arm. “Someone wants to kill you.” Though she’d already made that point several times. Either he didn’t believe her at all or he was ready to risk his life and hers by walking out that door.

“Think of my sisters,” she said, and she was ready to beg if necessary. “You know what it’s like to lose someone close to you. Don’t make my family go through that.”

Eden didn’t see what she wanted in his eyes—any indication that he was considering what she’d just asked. But then Declan turned his gun toward the floor.

And fired.

The two shots blasted through the small house, the bullets tearing into the wood floor. The sound was deafening. Unnerving.

But a relief, too.

“Thank you,” Eden managed to say despite her suddenly bone-dry throat. “Now, for the next step. While you pretend to be dead, I’ll leave and contact one of your brothers. I’m thinking maybe Harlan McKinney.” She’d researched them all, and he seemed the most levelheaded.

He shook his head. “I’ll call Wyatt. Harlan’s tied up with some personal stuff right now. Wedding plans,” he added in a mumble. His gaze shot back to hers. “I’ve got no intention of playing dead for long. You cooperate with Wyatt and me, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Before she could agree, Declan got in her face again. “Here’s the only warning you’ll get from me. If you’re lying about any of this, I will make you pay.”

She nodded, knowing that this was far from over. It was just the beginning, and Eden prayed they could all get out of it alive.

Using his left hand, Declan took out his phone from his pocket. Hopefully to call his foster brother Wyatt McCabe, but he didn’t press any buttons or numbers. Declan froze for a moment before his gaze shifted to the window.

Eden’s heart went to her knees. “Did you hear something?”

“Yeah.” He hooked his arm around her and shoved her behind him.

That only made her racing heart worse, and she came up on her toes to try to look over his shoulder. She didn’t have to look far.

Eden spotted someone beside the tree where that camera had been mounted. A man. He was peering through a scope on a rifle.

And he had that rifle aimed right at Declan O’Malley’s house.

Chapter Three

Declan backed Eden deeper into the shadows and took aim out the window. The guy didn’t appear to be on the verge of shooting, but Declan didn’t want to take any chances. If this moron fired, it would be the last shot he’d ever take.

Without moving his attention from the man with that rifle, Declan pushed the button on his phone to call his foster brother Wyatt.

“You still at the ranch?” Declan asked the moment Wyatt answered.

“Yeah. About to leave for work now. Why?”

“I got a problem. Several of them, in fact.” He spared Eden a glance to make sure she wasn’t ready to do anything stupid. Her attention, too, was staked to the guy outside, and judging from her reaction, his being there wasn’t part of her plan.

Whatever her plan was.

Just in case her plan was to still kill him, Declan repositioned her so that she was hip to hip with him. He didn’t want her in his line of sight in case she tried to grab her Glock from his jeans.

“A man has a rifle pointed at my house,” Declan explained to his brother. “I need you out here, but make a quiet approach from the back. I’d do it myself, but I have another unexpected visitor. This one’s inside, and it’s Zander Gray’s daughter.”

Wyatt cursed. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Not sure yet, but I’m about to find out.” Declan used the camera on his phone to click a picture of the guy, and he fired it off to Wyatt. “Send that to Dallas and see if we can get a hit on facial recognition. I need it fast. Oh, and if possible, keep the guy outside alive. I need to question him.”

“I’ll try,” Wyatt assured him.

Declan had no doubt that Wyatt would indeed try, and it shouldn’t take him long to get to Declan’s place, since the main ranch house was less than a mile away. Wyatt would hurry, too. No doubts about that.

“You recognize that man with the rifle?” Declan asked Eden the moment he ended the call with Wyatt.

“No.” She didn’t hesitate, either. “But I warned you that someone was likely watching.”

Yeah, someone who wanted to make sure she murdered him.

But there were some huge holes in her story. For instance, if someone had wanted him dead, why send a female P.I. with a goody-two-shoes voice and a body that could distract a man? A face, too.

Maybe that was exactly why someone had sent her.

Declan had never hurt a woman, even one that he’d butted heads with. And it could be the person behind all of this thought Eden might be able to pull the trigger before he even saw it coming.

Declan motioned for her to take out her phone when he felt it vibrate. She pulled it out, and her breath stalled when she saw the screen.

“The caller blocked the number,” she relayed.

The guy with the rifle had both hands on his weapon, so he wasn’t making the call, but it could be coming from the person who’d hired this would-be triggerman and Eden, as well.

“Answer it,” Declan insisted. “And put it on speaker.”

She nodded, and her hand was trembling when she clicked the buttons. Eden didn’t say anything. She just waited for the caller to respond, and she didn’t have to wait long.

“You there, Gray?” the caller asked her. A man.

Declan used his phone to record the call so he could have it analyzed. Hopefully it wouldn’t be needed as part of a murder investigation—Declan’s own or Eden’s.

“I’m here,” she answered. “I’m sure you heard the shots. O’Malley’s dead, so give me the password to delete the lies you planted on my computer.”

That request meshed with the story she’d told Declan, but he wasn’t ready to believe her just yet. For reasons he didn’t yet understand, all of this—including her response to this call—could be part of her plan.

“Can’t give you anything without proof,” the caller argued. “I’m sending in someone to see the body.”

“There’s not enough time for that,” Eden answered before Declan could coach her on what to say. “O’Malley managed to get off a call to the marshals. They’re on the way. Best if we all get out of here now.”

Declan gave her the worst glare he could manage, because that was not the way he wanted this to go down. He wanted the gunman to come inside the house. Or rather he wanted the gunman to try. Then Declan could have disarmed him and arrested his sorry butt so he could interrogate him. He darn sure didn’t want the guy running off.

“The marshals?” the caller growled. “How much time before they arrive?”

Maybe the glare worked, because she hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

Declan pointed toward the rifleman and then toward his front door. “Tell him to come in,” he mouthed.

After a long hesitation, she gave another shaky nod. “You should have time to check the body if you make it quick.”

But the caller didn’t jump at the chance to do that. “I have a better idea. You go ahead and get out of there, and I’ll verify O’Malley’s dead once you’re gone. Wouldn’t want the marshals to catch you.”

There was a taunting edge to his tone, but he didn’t give Eden a chance to come back with a response. “Leave now,” the caller said. “Walk out the front door and head straight for your car that you left on the ranch trail. If you go anywhere but there, our deal is off.” He ended the call.

Eden pulled in a long breath. “I’d like my gun before I go outside.”

Declan looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “The caller doesn’t believe you killed me,” he pointed out. “And the moment you walk out that door, his hired gun will bring you down before you can blink. You’re a loose end, and he’s not going to let you live.”

In fact, that had maybe been part of the plan all along. Somehow, convince Eden to kill him and then they’d kill her. That didn’t answer his question of why, but Declan figured he could get to that soon enough.

If he kept them alive, that is.

“He’ll try to kill me,” Eden agreed. “But I’m not a bad shot. Plus, I know he’s out there. I can fire as soon as I step on the porch.”

“Even if you’re the best shot in the state, that’s a stupid plan. He’s already got the rifle aimed and ready, and you don’t even know if he’s alone. If he misses, which I doubt he will, he could have a friend or two ready to make sure you die.”

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.

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.

Because he was feeling it, too.

As soon as he figured out how, he was going to make it go away. He didn’t need the kind of trouble that Eden Gray brought with her. Especially since he’d been the one to arrest her father. Even though she didn’t appear to be holding any grudges about that, maybe those blue eyes were concealing things well hidden.

She looked away from him. “Where are you taking me?”

“Since the EMTs are going to be tied up with the gunmen for a while, first stop is the hospital. You should be checked out by the doctor, and Kirby’s there. He was a little weak after his last cancer treatment, and they decided to keep him a day or two.”

“I’m sorry. How sick is he?”

“Sick,” Declan settled for saying, and it was all he intended to say on the matter. Kirby could be dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Maybe questioning him is a bad idea then,” she added.

Yeah, it was. Kirby didn’t need this while he was trying to recover, but there was no way to keep the news of the gunfight from him. Even while he was in the hospital. Someone would let it slip, and Kirby would be furious that he hadn’t heard it from Declan. Besides, Kirby might be able to shed some light on the note.

“I don’t need to see a doctor,” she said. She reached out and touched his chin. “But you should.”

Declan hadn’t been expecting that touch, and he actually flinched. First, from the contact. Then the little zing of pain as her fingers grazed his skin. When Eden drew back her fingers, he saw the blood.

“You might need stitches,” she suggested.

He jerked down the visor with the vanity mirror and had a look. Yeah, his chin was cut all right, but there was no way he’d take the time to get stitches. He reached over to the glove compartment, the back of his hand brushing against Eden’s jeans-clad leg, and this time she was the one who flinched.

“Good grief,” she mumbled. “What’s wrong with us?”

Oh, she knew what.

So did he.

“My advice?” He took some tissues from the glove compartment and pressed them against his chin. “Pretend it’s not there.” Since she didn’t question what it was, he figured they were on the same page.

Talk about lousy timing.

And bad judgment.

Of course, that idiot part of him behind his jeans’ zipper was a bad-judgment magnet. He had a way of hooking up with women who could give him the most amount of trouble in the least amount of time.

The most fun, too.

Still, this went beyond his fondness for bad girls whose middles names were Trouble. Because this bad girl had been sent to kill him.

“Any chance your father’s behind this?” Declan came right out and asked. He expected her to have a quick denial and figured she wouldn’t admit that Zander Gray would try to kill his own daughter.

“There’s no way he would put me at risk like this.” She paused. “But he hates you. A lot. And he blames you for his arrest.”

“He should blame himself. He’s the one who tried to murder a witness.”

“He said he was innocent and I believe him.”

Not exactly a surprise. “Well, I’m just as adamant that he’s as guilty as sin.” Declan took the final turn toward town. “Would he include you in any plan to get revenge against me?”

He looked for any signs that she’d been lying, that she’d been in on this plan from the beginning—all to help her father get back at him.

“No.” There was just a slight hesitation before she repeated it.

Maybe she wasn’t as certain as she wanted to seem. Declan sure wasn’t, and her father gave them a starting point. But before trying to track down the man who’d been a fugitive for months, he needed to deal with the note.

Well, maybe.

It was possible that Kirby would be too weak to talk. Still, he could at least have Eden checked out to make sure she was okay. He didn’t see any cuts or bruises, but she’d hit the ground pretty hard when he had dragged her off the porch and away from those bullets.

He pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and looked around to make sure they hadn’t been followed. Something he’d done on the entire drive. The missing gunman probably wouldn’t choose Main Street for an attack, but Declan didn’t want to take any chances.

“This way.” He led Eden through a side door for one of the clinics located in the hospital. It was an entrance he and his brothers had been using a lot lately so they wouldn’t have to go through the newly installed metal detectors and disarm. With Kirby’s frequent stays in the hospital, it saved all of them some time.

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