One Night Standoff - By Delores Fossen Page 0,37

the truck and walked into the barn.

A man who appeared to be in his late fifties came in first. He wore jeans and a battered cowboy hat. Cutter, no doubt. And he looked as crusty and weathered as he’d sounded on the phone.

Quentin came in next, but it took Lenora a moment to recognize him. She’d never seen him wear anything but one of his pricey suits in public, but he, too, was wearing jeans and boots. Maybe because he’d ridden in on a Harley—yet something else unfamiliar about him. He’d always preferred top-of-the-line sports cars.

The third man who walked into the barn behind Quentin was younger, early twenties, and judging from the way he was dressed, he was probably also a ranch hand. However, like Cutter, he was armed with a Colt.

“I had Deke stay down by the gate,” Cutter explained. “Just in case this fella here had a friend or two follow him.”

That helped steady Lenora’s nerves a little. Until she remembered that hired guns might not use the road. They might try to sneak onto the ranch while Quentin kept them occupied. Clayton must have been thinking the same thing, because he leaned in and assured her, “The other ranch hands are keeping watch.”

“No need for it. I didn’t bring anyone with me,” Quentin insisted.

He stepped around Cutter and likely would have made a beeline for her, but Clayton put his hand over his gun and moved slightly forward. That brought Quentin to a grinding halt, but he still didn’t look at Clayton. Instead, her ex pinned his attention to her. Or at least what he could see of her from over Clayton’s shoulder.

“Lynnie.” Quentin said her name on a rise of breath. Almost as if he was relieved to find her actually there. But the relief or whatever it was quickly faded, and his eyes narrowed. “I know,” he said.

Lenora had to shake her head. Was he talking about the baby? If so, he’d already made it clear that he wasn’t pleased that she was pregnant with another man’s child. But she immediately rethought that. The one thing she was certain of was that Quentin hadn’t loved her, that he’d only used her in his illegal business practices. So maybe he didn’t care whose baby she was carrying.

“You know what, exactly?” Clayton asked for her.

Quentin stabbed his index finger in her direction. “Plenty of things. For one, I know you were working undercover to investigate me.”

Her heart felt as if it dropped to the barn floor. That info was classified. Of course, some people knew—Clayton and James, for instance. But James had assured her that Quentin would never be privy to that.

Because Quentin could be dangerous.

After all, she’d conducted a secret investigation into his illegal business affairs that had ultimately led to his arrest. True, he hadn’t gone to jail, but it had forced him to cooperate with the authorities.

“Don’t bother to deny it,” Quentin went on. “I don’t want to hear another lie come out of your mouth. You worked for the justice department. Sneaking around my company and handing over private files to Agent James Britt. You had no right to do that.”

Lenora knew she should just stay quiet, but that riled her to the core. How dare he put all the blame on her? “I turned over files because you’re a criminal. You were laundering money for drug cartels and anyone else who could make you some fast cash.”

Clayton gave her a warning glance, probably to remind her to say quiet, but she ignored him. “How did you find out about this?” she demanded.

“Well, obviously not through you, that’s for sure.” Quentin cursed, but his expression actually softened a bit. “Lynnie...” And that’s all he said for several moments. “Could we go somewhere private and talk?”

“No,” Clayton said before Quentin got out the last word of his request.

Quentin’s eyes narrowed again. “Why don’t you let Lynnie speak for herself?”

“You’ll get the same answer from me,” she quickly replied. “I don’t trust you, Quentin. You’ve been stalking me. You broke into my house—”

“Not stalking. I was looking for something you stole from me.”

Clayton looked back at her to see if she knew what he was talking about, but she had to shake her head. “Everything I took from your office, I handed over to Agent Britt,” she insisted.

“Not everything. There were files on an offshore oil rig account.”

Lenora had to dig through the memories of her search, and she remembered plenty of other accounts,