Taking Aim at the Sheriff (12 page)

That was good since there could be other evidence in the safe-deposit box. But then she went through the details again. “A gunrunning operation over thirty years ago? The statute of limitations plays into this. My father can’t be arrested for the crime even if there’s proof.”

“Unless he murdered someone,” Jericho corrected. “No statute of limitations for that.”

True. And the killer hadn’t mentioned any proof of murder. Still... “Maybe if the evidence is strong enough, we can present it to a judge. It would go a long way toward preventing my father from getting custody of Maddox.”

On its own, it wouldn’t be enough, and they’d have to find a judge who wasn’t in her father’s pocket, but coupled with the info Theo had given them, then maybe they could use it to stop him.

Jericho glanced around as if trying to figure out what to do next. His gaze finally settled on Laurel. “I need to take you someplace safe so I can free up Levi to go check on Chase, and I’ll get someone to cover the office. Don’t tell Mom about any of this,” he added to Levi. “Not until we know just how badly Chase is hurt.”

Iris would no doubt be frantic once she heard about the attack, and she, too, would likely want to go to her son.

“With your mother gone, I’ll need to be at the safe house with Maddox,” Laurel insisted.

She expected Jericho to argue, to tell her that Jax and the two deputies could manage it. And they probably could. But Laurel wanted the three lawmen guarding her son to focus on protecting her son, not taking care of him.

“We have some time,” Jericho finally said. “And if Chase’s injury isn’t that bad, we can keep the arrangement as is. If not, well, we’ll just have to be careful when I take you there.”

Part of Laurel was happy that she might soon be with Maddox again, but she didn’t want Chase’s injury to be so serious to make that happen. Plus, there was the risk of going to the safe house.

“Is it possible to find the people my father has watching us?” she asked.

Jericho went to the window, lifted one of the slats on the closed blinds and looked out, though he already knew what was out there.

Buildings. Lots of them.

Not just across the street but on each side of the sheriff’s office. Her father’s spy could be on the roof of one of those or maybe even inside. With long-range equipment, the spy could be anywhere on the street.

“Herschel probably has someone watching the roads, too.” Jericho shook his head. “We could probably flush out someone nearby, but there’s no telling how many people he hired.”

True, and it wasn’t as if her father was lacking for money.

Levi’s phone rang, and he glanced at the screen. “Sheriff McKinnon from Sweetwater Springs.” Thankfully, he put the call on speaker.

“It’s here,” the sheriff greeted. “Some old photos of what appears to be the sale and transfer of arms. There are also some notes with dates, names and such. And yes, Herschel Tate’s name is included on them.”

“But is he in the photos?” Levi asked.

“Hard to tell for sure, but it could be him. I’ll have to send them to the lab, of course, but I’ll fax you some copies.”

“Thanks. I’m at the sheriff’s office in Appaloosa Pass.” Levi thanked him, ended the call and looked at his brother. “I’ll wait here until you get someone to cover the office. It isn’t a good idea to keep Laurel here much longer, though.”

No. Because if her father’s little bird told him about the contents of the safe-deposit box, then he might get desperate. There could be another attack.

Jericho nodded, took out his phone, but it buzzed before he could even make a call. Laurel figured it was an update on Chase.

It wasn’t.

Quinn Rossman’s name appeared on the phone screen.

“Sheriff Crockett,” Rossman said the moment Jericho answered. “I understand you want to talk to me about Laurel and the money laundering charges against her. Well, let’s talk. I’ll be at the sheriff’s office in just a few minutes.”

Chapter Thirteen

Jericho felt as if he was being buried by an avalanche.

So much was coming at Laurel and him. Their impending arrests. The danger. Chase’s injury. The new info from both Theo and the Moonlight Strangler.

Now, this.

Rossman would be arriving soon, and while Jericho did indeed want to have a chat with the man, he didn’t want that to happen at Laurel’s expense.

“What can I do to help?” Levi asked.

Jericho went with the most pressing problem—making sure Laurel was safe. “Call in the reserve deputies. I want at least two of them, and tell them to get here ASAP.”

He used the computer to pull up the personnel roster for Levi. The deputies wouldn’t be pleased about being called in since they were probably spending time with their families, but it couldn’t be helped.

While Levi started to make the calls, Jericho turned to Laurel. Like him, she looked overwhelmed. Scared, as well. Too bad there was a reason to be scared. After all, Rossman hadn’t been ruled out as a suspect, and with his partner, Cawley, now dead, Rossman could be looking to blame Laurel in some way for this mess they were all in.

“I know,” she said before he could speak. “You want me to hide in your office. But until Rossman gets here, I can help.”

Jericho was about to assure her that he had everything under control, but then he heard the whirring sound of the fax machine. No doubt, copies of the photos and notes from Sheriff McKinnon.

He tipped his head to the papers that the machine was spitting out. “Why don’t you take those and go in my office.”

She nodded, probably because she was interested in seeing if it was her father in the old photos, but she would also be safer in there than in the squad room. However, Laurel didn’t jump to get the faxes. She stood there, staring at him.

“You’ll be careful, right?” she asked.

“Yeah.” But they both knew that being careful hadn’t stopped the other attacks. It might not stop this one, either, if Rossman came in with guns blazing.

Since Jericho thought they both could use it, he brushed a kiss on her forehead. Then, her mouth. He could definitely be doing other things right now, but this seemed just as important as everything else.

“Go,” he insisted before he kissed her again. “While I’m waiting for Rossman, I’ll start to work on a place for us to stay.”

Laurel finally got moving. She gathered up the papers and went to his office. “Don’t open the window in there,” he reminded her. Not that she would. “And just in case something happens, there’s a gun in the center desk drawer.”

Another nod, and he hated that Laurel barely had a reaction to being told about the gun. She was probably still partially in shock from the last attack because there was no way she could become immune to the possibility of someone trying to kill her again.

At least he hoped not.

No one should get used to that.

Jericho waited until she was inside his office before he took out his phone and went to one of the front windows to look out. He didn’t raise the blinds. He looked out the side.

Since it was still butt-freezing cold, there weren’t many people out and about, though there were several folks eating at the diner across the street. Jericho could also see cars pulling in and out of the parking lot of the grocery store just up the block. No one seemed to be focused on the sheriff’s building. And there was definitely no sign of Rossman. Thankfully, Jericho had seen a photo of the man in the background report, so he should be able to recognize him.

Jericho made his call to a friend, Marshal Dallas Walker, and asked him to arrange a safe house. He had to add another ASAP to the request, and the marshal assured him he’d get right on it.

“The deputies are on their way,” Levi relayed to him when he finished his calls. “What next?”

“Call and get an update on Chase. If it’s good news, I’ll phone Jax.” He’d need to call Jax, anyway, to let him know what was going on, but Jericho preferred to have some good news before he did that.

Jericho returned to keeping watch. Still no sign of Rossman, but he heard Laurel step out of his office, and he pivoted in that direction. Considering all the bad stuff that’d been going on, he almost expected her to say they were under attack. Instead, she held up the handful of faxed photos.

“It’s my father,” she said. “Of course, he’s a lot younger in the photos, but it’s him, all right.”

Good. The lab would still have to verify it, but this was a start. “What does it say about your father in the notes?” Jericho asked.

“He’s mentioned in one of the deals to buy illegal weapons.” Laurel blew out a frustrated breath. “But they’re just notes. I can’t imagine them being admissible in court.”

They wouldn’t be. But maybe the photos and notes together would be enough to get Herschel to back off. Jericho hated to bargain with the snake, but if Herschel thought he was fighting a losing battle to get Maddox, then maybe he’d call off his dogs.

Jericho motioned for her to go back in the office, and he made another sweeping glance of the street.

“Chase will be okay,” Levi relayed while he was still on the phone. “He’s got a concussion, and he’ll need about a dozen stitches to the chest, but the cut isn’t that deep. Once that’s done, he should be able to leave the hospital.”

That was even better news. Too bad getting the photos and notes had come at such a high price. A woman’s murder and Chase’s injury. Of course, the Moonlight Strangler had likely planned on murdering the woman, no matter what, but Jericho hated that the killer had done it this way.

“Chase said one of the Sweetwater Springs deputies can bring Chase here to the sheriff’s office,” Levi added.

“Not here.” Jericho didn’t even have to think about that. “Tell Chase to go to the ranch.” At least there were plenty of ranch hands who could help guard him, and their longtime cook had some decent nursing skills.

Jericho listened to Levi relay the message. Braced himself in case Chase argued about it.

But then something caught his attention.

A man in a dark, heavy coat was coming up the sidewalk across the street near the diner. No hat so Jericho got a good look at him. Dark hair, thin face.

It was Rossman.

Every nerve in Jericho’s body went on alert.

“Rossman’s here,” he called out to Levi. “Laurel, don’t come out.”

“Is he armed?” Levi asked, joining Jericho at the window.

“Hard to tell.” Jericho could see his hands, and Rossman wasn’t carrying a gun, but that coat was big enough to conceal plenty of weapons.

Rossman turned his gaze toward the sheriff’s office, and in the same motion, he caught onto the side of the diner. But he didn’t just catch onto it. The man sank to his knees.

“What the hell?” Jericho went to the door, opened it, and with his gun ready, tried to get a better look.

And he got one, all right.

A gust of wind flipped back the side of Rossman’s coat, and Jericho saw the front of the man’s shirt was bright red.

Blood.

“Call for an ambulance and cover me,” Jericho said to Levi, and he stepped out, praying this wasn’t some kind of ruse so that hired thugs could go after Laurel again.

Rossman lifted his head, made eye contact with Jericho. No ruse. Well, not on Rossman’s part, anyway. The man was indeed hurt.

Maybe dying.

It was a risk. Anything he did at this point was. But Jericho kept watch around him and hurried across the street. Once he was closer, he saw there wasn’t much color left in Rossman’s face, and the man’s breathing was thin and ragged.

“What happened to you?” Jericho asked, stooping down beside him. He tore open the shirt.

More blood.

Too much of it.

Rossman was bleeding out, and since the ambulance might not get there in time, Jericho held his hand against the gaping wound to try to staunch the blood.

“What happened?” Jericho repeated.

“I got shot.” Rossman motioned up the street.

That’s when Jericho saw a dark green car at the traffic light. The car’s headlights and engine were still on, and the driver’s-side door was wide-open. Someone had shot through the window, and the bullet had no doubt gone into Rossman.

Considering what’d happened to Rossman’s business partner, Jericho figured the man had been followed and targeted.

Since the shooter could come back for another round, Jericho pulled the man into the narrow alleyway. A couple of the diners came outside, no doubt to see what was going on, but Jericho motioned for them to get back in.

“The ambulance will be here soon,” Jericho told Rossman. “Just hold on a few more minutes.”

“I don’t have minutes. I’m dying.” The hoarse breath he dragged in sure sounded like a man on his deathbed.

“Did you see the person who did this to you?” Jericho asked.

Rossman nodded, and his eyelids fluttered down. “He said I was to give her a message. Tell her that he’s coming to kill her. To kill Laurel.”

Well, hell. That was not a message Jericho wanted to hear. “Who’s coming?” Jericho pressed.

“Herschel.” That was all Rossman said for several long moments. “I didn’t see him, but I heard his voice. He’s the one who shot me.”

Jericho got right in his face. “You’re sure it was Herschel?”

But there was no way for Rossman to hear the question. No way for him to answer.

Because the man was already dead.

Chapter Fourteen

There was blood on her hands.

Not her own. And thankfully, not Jericho’s. She wasn’t exactly sure how it got there, but it belonged to Rossman.

After the ambulance had taken the man’s body away and Jericho had come back into the sheriff’s office, she’d ended up in Jericho’s arms. Laurel was fuzzy about how that’d happened, too, but she’d pretty much lost it when he had told her what Rossman had said.

Of course, she’d known all along that her father was capable of murder. Had known he would do anything to get Maddox and get back at her. But now a man was dead, and he’d used his dying breath to deliver a message.

Tell her that he’s coming to kill her.

There it was in a nutshell. So what if they had proof now to discredit her father and get the charges against her dismissed? That wouldn’t matter if he was hell-bent on making sure she was dead.

And that riled her to the core.

Rossman’s blood angered her, too, because it was yet another reminder of a life lost in this ordeal. Too many lives, including Jericho’s father and her own mother. Added to that were the injuries and the fear that seemed to be crushing her lungs.

One way or another, Herschel was going to pay.

She heard the footsteps, and several moments later, Jericho appeared in the doorway of his office where she was waiting. He, too, still had blood on him and was sporting a very concerned expression. Something he’d had for the past hour, since Rossman had been murdered.

“Did you find my father?” she asked.

Some of the concern vanished, replaced by frustration when he shook his head. “Not yet. The deputies looked for him, but I brought them back in so the office—and you—would be protected. The Rangers just arrived so they’ll take over the search.”

If her father was indeed still out there, he was probably staying well hidden. Until it was time for the final attack against her.

“I’m making arrangements for a safe house,” Jericho continued. “The Sweetwater Springs’s sheriff has offered to lend me two of his deputies to do backup for us while we’re at the safe house. But I’m also making this place as safe as possible in the meantime. We’ve got the security system turned on. And as I said, the reserve deputies are here. Levi, too. He’s staying now that Chase doesn’t need him.”

She certainly hadn’t forgotten about Chase, but with everything else going on, she’d pushed him to the back of her mind. “How’s Chase?”

“He’ll be okay. He’s a Crockett, and along with a hard head, he’s got thick skin like the rest of us.”

Laurel appreciated Jericho’s attempt to lighten things up, but nothing was going to work right now.

“Did you get a chance to call Jax?” Jericho asked her.

She nodded. “Everything’s okay, but Maddox was asleep, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. He doesn’t usually go to sleep this early.”

“Between the deputies, my mom and Jax, he’s got four playmates. I’m betting they tired him out.”

Maybe. She hoped that was true and that her little boy wasn’t picking up on all the stress from the danger.

She certainly was.

Laurel felt wired and exhausted at the same time. There was so much nervous energy bubbling up inside her and nowhere to aim it. Too bad her father wasn’t around so she could give him a piece of her mind.

“Come on,” Jericho said, helping her to her feet. “There’s a bathroom just off the break room. Well, sort of a bathroom. No shower, but there’s a sink. The water pressure’s practically nonexistent, and the hot-water heater taps out after about a minute, but we can both wash off some of the blood.”

Yes, they could wash it off, but Laurel would still see it.

Still feel it, too.

“Laurel’s going to get some rest,” Jericho told Levi when he leaned around the hall corner to look into the squad room.

His brother was obviously busy, but Levi muttered something about that being a good idea. And it was, in theory. But that didn’t mean it was going to happen. Not with her mind in tornado mode.

“I wish my father was dead,” she said.

Jericho made a quick sound of agreement and led her toward the break room. A place she already knew too well since she’d stayed there for hours the night after the first attack. Maddox had slept on the small bed tucked against the wall while she paced and worried about, well, everything. She wasn’t pacing now, but the worry was still there in spades.

He opened one of the metal lockers positioned against the wall and took out a gray T-shirt. He held it up, glancing at it, then at her.

Jericho tossed her the T-shirt. “It won’t be a good fit, but it’ll be better than nothing.”

It would be. She didn’t want any more reminders of the violence that’d just taken place.

The blinds were still closed, and he slapped off the overhead lights. However, it didn’t plunge them into total darkness because of the light coming from the hall. There were also lights threading in around the edges of the blinds. Plenty of light for her to see the worried look on his face.

“Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

He looked down at the blood on her hands. On the front of her top, too. “I just don’t like seeing that on you.”

“I could say the same thing.” She touched the front of his shirt. Of course, that meant she touched his chest, too. Not a good idea, considering her raw nerves and spiked adrenaline.

Also not a good idea because of the attraction.

Jericho didn’t exactly step back, but it was close. He glanced away, dodging her gaze and dodging her touch in the process. Wise decision. His mind was likely in tornado mode, too.

“Go ahead. Wash up,” he said, opening the bathroom door for her.

Laurel didn’t turn on the light, and since there was no window, there was even less light in here than in the break room itself. Still, she found her way to the sink and began to wash off the blood.

“My father took a huge risk by shooting Rossman,” Laurel said, thinking out loud. Thinking quietly about it, too. There was something about this that just didn’t add up.

Jericho made a sound of agreement, but she could still see his face, and that wasn’t agreement in his expression. “Think this through. Pulling the trigger himself just isn’t something Herschel would do. So, why do it now? Especially when he has his spies planted all around. Why not just get one of them to do his dirty work?”

Good question. Too bad Laurel didn’t have a good answer. “You think Rossman would use his dying breath to lie?”

“He might if he was dying, anyway, and wanted to get back at Herschel. Heck, Rossman could have even shot himself. A suicide so he could incriminate your father. After all, Rossman was about to be arrested for money laundering. His partner’s already dead, so he might have figured this was the easy way out.”

She splashed some water on her face while she thought about that. Yes, a suicide was possible. But it was also possible that either Theo, Dorothy or both had ordered the hit on Rossman.

Laurel groped around until she located a towel. Dried her face. And then debated how to change out shirts. She didn’t especially want to close the door between Jericho and herself, but it probably wasn’t a good idea to strip down in front of him, either, so she stepped back into the corner of the bathroom to change. When she came back out, she realized he was staring at her.

Judging from the heat in his eyes, maybe she hadn’t been in the shadows as much as she thought. Best not to bring it up, though. And it wasn’t as if they didn’t have anything else to think about. Or talk about.

“My father has a strong motive for wanting Rossman dead,” she reminded him. Reminded herself, too.

Jericho nodded. “But it still doesn’t feel right. Herschel would have found another way. Maybe a car accident like the one that Rossman’s partner had. Now, that’s something Herschel would do.”

“But Rossman said he saw my father.”

“He could have lied about that. Or maybe he did see him. Herschel’s probably still in town somewhere, and Rossman could have been at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Or else someone could have made sure he was there by luring him to the area. Theo or Dorothy could have certainly managed that. And that meant they were back to square one again.

Well, almost.

“You can still use Rossman’s accusation to arrest my father.” Her father might be able to wiggle out of the charges, but that would take time, and it would give him something else to focus on rather than Jericho and her.

“Oh, yeah,” Jericho quickly agreed. “And trust me, that’s exactly what’ll happen when he’s found. I’ve asked the Rangers to assist in the search.”

Good. So, not square one.

“But we need more,” he added. “I’m playing around with the notion of trying to set some kind of trap to lure your father or anyone else involved in this.”

“What kind of trap?”

He shook his head. “Not sure yet. I’m still trying to work it all out. But once I have the details set in my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”

Jericho peeled off his blood-stained shirt and headed into the bathroom. As she’d done, he scrubbed his hands, hard. His face, too. But since she was holding the only towel, he came back into the doorway to take it from her.

“You’re worrying,” he pointed out, frowning. Maybe because she was frowning at herself. “You shouldn’t. There’s good news in all of this. With Herschel arrested and charged with murder, that’ll make it easier to ax the arrest warrants against both of us. Ax his custody petition, too.”

Laurel heard every word he said. Felt the relief that the danger might finally be ending. But she also had a shirtless Jericho standing in front of her, and he hadn’t even attempted to find a shadowy corner to hide while he dried off.

She saw it then. The faint scar on his chest where her name had once been.

“What?” he asked. But then he scowled when he followed her gaze. “Yeah, I had it removed.”

That was to be expected. But Laurel couldn’t help remembering the time he’d first gotten it when they were still teenagers. A tattoo to prove to her that she’d always be part of him.

As if she needed ink to prove that.

If there was a test for it, she was sure Jericho was in her veins, in her blood. He was certainly in her heart.

“What can I say? I was young, and in those days words alone didn’t seem to be a strong enough man-statement.” He walked past her, heading toward the locker again. No doubt for another shirt. But he didn’t take out anything. He just stared inside the locker as if expecting to find some kind of answer there.

“It was a statement. I remember you trying to pretend it didn’t hurt like crazy. The tattoo,” she clarified when he turned around to face her again.

Still no shirt. Just that intense stare that only Jericho could manage. “It hurt,” he verified.

And they were no longer talking about the tattoo.

She shouldn’t touch him. Laurel knew that. Touching Jericho was never as simple as just touching, and it could be dangerous.

It didn’t stop her.

As if her hand had a mind of its own, it went to his chest, and the moment she felt him beneath her fingers, the relief came. Washing over her. Through her. For this brief time, she hadn’t lost him. He was still hers to touch.

Hers to take.

Of course, it was pure fantasy. He was no one’s for the taking, especially hers, but when it came to Jericho, she’d spent most of her life weaving fantasies, and tonight was apparently no different.

He glanced at her hand. “You plan on doing something about that?” Those sizzling amber eyes came back to hers and held. Waiting.

Without lifting her hand, Laurel inched it lower. To his stomach. She hadn’t thought she could ache more for him, but she’d been wrong. Every part of her was aching now. Every part wanting him. Wanting more. She was so close to his zipper. Close enough that she could
do something about that
.

Something she was sure they’d regret when they came to their senses.

But not now.

No regrets now.

She leaned in to kiss him, but Jericho beat her to it. His rough hand went around the back of her neck and dragged her closer. Not for a kiss, though. He just stared at her, studying her. So much emotion in his face. A tangled mix that Laurel was feeling, too.

“Damn you,” he growled. He shut the door. Locked it.

And he kissed her.

Laurel had wanted that kiss more than her next breath, but she still wasn’t ready for it. Jericho mouth’s came to hers, and she remembered that he kissed with the same intensity that he did everything else in his life. No gentle lead-in. Just the sweet assault of his taste and his body against hers.

He took her hand, put it over the front of his jeans. “Are you going to do something about that?” he demanded.

She did. Laurel unzipped him, slowly, eased her hand into his jeans and beneath his boxers. And she got the reaction she wanted. Not only was he hard as stone, he made a sound, deep in his chest.

Before he dragged her to the bed.

It was exactly what Laurel wanted. This fire. This need that only Jericho could fix. And he fixed, it all right.

Everything was urgent. Fast. As if this had become a life-and-death matter. He stripped off her borrowed T-shirt. Her bra, too. And Laurel got the full impact of having his bare skin against hers. It didn’t rob her of her breath exactly, but Jericho did something else to make sure that happened.

As she’d done with him, he slipped his hands into her jeans, into her panties, touching her while slipping off her jeans at the same time. Laurel wanted to help him. She freed him from his boxers but wanted to get rid of any and all barriers between them. His touch stopped her from doing that.

No ordinary touch.

No.

His fingers went inside her, and just like that she went from being on fire to being very close to climaxing. Something she didn’t want to happen. Not until he was inside her, anyway.

Laurel tried to distract him with a kiss. Tried to get off his jeans, too. But Jericho kept on touching her, his fingers sliding in and out of her. Until she couldn’t hold on any longer.

In the milky light, their gazes met. Held. And he sent her flying right over the edge.