Justice is Coming

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.