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  There were muttered discussions of who would remain downstairs and who would look for somebody to hold hostage. This was a big rich house. Whoever lived here would pay and pay well for anyone they could snatch. They sounded bombed out of their minds, Mina realized. That would make this harder. You couldn’t really reason with someone whose brains were on vacation. Her hand tightened on the .45. Her mouth was dry. Her palms were damp. She laughed inwardly at those visible signs of fear. But fear was only a symptom. It needed control, and the guys had taught it to her. She moved closer to the door.

  Footsteps sounded on the soft carpet. She closed her eyes and listened. Only one person, she surmised. Just one.

  The man was trying to walk stealthily, but it wasn’t working. Mina heard him. She had to act before Vic decided to yield to his protective instincts and pop his head out of his room. It would most likely be immediately fatal.

  So she moved out into the hall in an athletic stance, legs apart, knees bent, facing the target, shoulders in front of the hips. It was perfect for recoil management and firing fast follow-up shots if necessary. The target was a small, uniformed man with a smirk on his face.

  “Ah, so you have a gun,” he said in accented English. “I have one, too. Let me show you how easily I can shoot it...!” He brought the pistol up, and his eyes signaled that he meant to shoot her.

  She shot him in the knee before he could pull the trigger. He cried out harshly, but before he could raise his gun, she jumped forward and kicked the gun out of his hand.

  “¡Alto!” she said. “Si le gusta continuar con su vida, no mueve.” Her eyes, over the barrel of the gun, were cold as ice.

  The downed man, obviously not in a hurry to die, complied with her request and lay still, groaning. Sandra almost clapped.

  Vic came out into the hall, shocked when he saw the man on the floor and Mina standing over him beside Sandra.

  Just as he started to speak, a second man came flying up the stairs with his gun leveled, but he never got a chance to use it. A bullet found him first. He stopped, made a half turn and fell down the steps groaning.

  Ry came in the door, almost panting. It had been a very rushed trip back and he’d run all the way from the truck in the driveway up the steps.

  “Are you guys okay?” he asked at once.

  Mina laughed, feeling faint. “Yes, but there’s a guy on his back up here who isn’t feeling so good.”

  “I’ve got three others in the truck,” Ry said. “We’ll call the Border Patrol and make them a present of these five.”

  “Better call an ambulance for this one,” she told Ry. “I think he’s going to need some major repairs on his kneecap.”

  Ry nodded. “This one’s going to need a medic, too,” he said, indicating the groaning man at the bottom of the staircase. “Best call the sheriff’s office as well. Don’t touch anything. They’ll have to process the crime scene so that they can press charges. You’ll need to give a statement as well.”

  She nodded, letting the pistol hang at her side. “Gosh, I’m glad you put me through that training course,” she said. “I’d be dead.”

  “They don’t usually kill people they plan to ransom until after they get the money,” he returned.

  “Yes, well this pendejo is stoned out of his mind and I wasn’t sure he didn’t have other purposes in mind for me,” she added with an icy look at the man on his back on the floor.

  The wounded man was moaning. “I need a doctor,” he said.

  Ry was pressing in numbers on his cell phone. “I’m going to need credentials,” he said, and looked toward Vic.

  “I hired you all two days ago to help me with a drug trafficking problem,” he said at once, with twinkling dark eyes. “Amazing, how fast you guys solved this part of it.”

  Ry chuckled. “Not so amazing. We’ve had a little more practical experience than these guys.”

  “I noticed.”

  Mina leaned back against the wall, still holding the .45. “This will make an amazing chapter if I change enough names,” she said heavily.

  Sandra, who’d moved into Vic’s arms the minute he came out into the hall, was smiling. “I get to read it first,” she said.

  Mina smiled at her. “Of course you do,” she laughed. She swallowed hard, turned green and handed the pistol to Vic. “Sorry,” she began, and ran for the bathroom.

  * * *

  THE SHERIFF ARRIVED along with the Border Patrol and the ambulance. Into the mix came a limousine with a man whose horror was immediately apparent to the driver, who saw Cort Grier’s face in the rearview mirror just briefly, before his passenger jerked open the door and ran toward the house.

  Cort’s first thought was that something had happened to Mina. But he passed a swarthy-looking man on a stretcher and another being carried out by two husky paramedics on yet a second stretcher.

  When he got into the house, there were nine men standing in the living room. Three of them were in uniform. Five others were in casual clothing, but they looked as if they belonged in military uniforms, just by their bearing. The last man was Vic, who stood with his arm around Sandra while the men in uniform and the men out of uniform spoke.

  There was blood all over the floor in the hall.

  “What happened?” Cort demanded anxiously.

  Several people started talking at once, but he looked up and there was Mina, in a long jumper with a tank top under it, looking pale and out of sorts.

  He ignored the people talking, skirted the blood and rushed up to take her in his arms and hug her close.

  “My God, there’s blood on the floor! Are you okay?” he bit off.

  “I’m fine. Really,” she said breathlessly, hugging him back. “I didn’t realize you’d be home so soon.”

  He drew back and looked at her worriedly, searching for any evidence that the violence had touched her.

  “You’re sure you’re all right?” he asked again.

  She managed a wan smile. “Yes.”

  “Who are the men on the stretchers outside?” he asked then.

  “They thought drug smuggling was too much work, so they sauntered in here looking for hostages. I got the one upstairs. Ry got the one down here. We had to call the sheriff’s office and Border Patrol, because Ry and his men had the drug smugglers in custody.”

  The sheriff, a tall man with white hair and a mustache and dark eyes, joined them on the staircase. A team of forensics people had just come in the door, and the deputy was showing them where to collect evidence.

  “You got one...?” Cort asked slowly, all at sea.

  “Hi, Cort,” Darly Coolidge said, pausing to shake hands. “Were you here when all this was going down?”

  “No, I just got home from a business meeting,” Cort said blankly. “I don’t understand any of this!” He looked at Mina. “You shot a man? I didn’t know you had a gun!”

  “I have a .45 Colt ACP,” she told him. “Well, the sheriff has it right now. It’s evidence in a shooting.”

  “And we need a statement from you, if you’re feeling up to it, Mrs. Grier,” he added with a smile.

  She smiled back. “I’m all right now. I just have periodic morning sickness, usually at night,” she laughed.

  “You have a .45 automatic,” Cort was still trying to process the information.

  She nodded.

  “Talk about living your novels,” the sheriff chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on down when you’re ready,” he added to Mina, who smiled and nodded.

  “Okay,” Cort said, pale brown eyes flashing as he faced his wife. “What’s going on?”

  She grimaced. “It’s sort of a long story. Couldn’t we sit down and have coffee and I’ll try to explain it?”

  He was tired and confused and ill at ease with strangers crawling all over his house. Vic and Sandra seemed to be having the time
of their lives.

  Cort drew Mina to his side and walked her around the blood and into the living room.

  “Cort! What an adventure you missed!” Sandra exclaimed, pausing to hug him. “I still can’t believe who you married. Honest to goodness, Willow Shane, of all people, and her book just hit number four on the New York Times bestseller list! Or it will, next week. Her agent gets advance notice of the postings.”

  Willow Shane. SPECTRE. His head seemed to turn in slow motion toward his wife, who loved to knit and read romance novels. She was flushing and looking very uncomfortable. Bart had a friend who was a successful novelist. There had been a party for her in Catelow. Willow Shane. The book jacket said that she went on missions with a group of commandos, that she could shoot a gun and had a high belt in a Korean martial art.

  He just gaped at her.

  The deputy had taken statements from the commandos and was talking to the sheriff. Vic and Ry joined Mina.

  “Well, it will be a story to tell your grandchildren,” Vic chuckled as he hugged his son. “What a night! We caught the drug smugglers who’ve been using our southern border for a freeway, and two would-be kidnappers are on their way to a long sentence on federal charges. What a night!” he repeated, laughing as he drew Sandra close.

  “You two are back together?” Cort asked. His mind was whirling like a top.

  “I bribed her,” Vic said. He grinned. “With your wife.”

  “With my wife?”

  “Mina’s her favorite author. I told Sandra if she’d give me a second chance, I’d introduce her. The guys there were a bonus.” He indicated Ry and the others, just joining them.

  “You’d be her commando group,” Cort said quietly, his narrow-eyed gaze on their leader.

  Ry shrugged. “She wanted to write fiction that sounded authentic, so we trained her,” he added with a grin. “She was a hell of a pupil.” He didn’t add anything about their latest mission, for fear of making a bad situation worse. Obviously, Mina’s new husband was getting a few shocks tonight.

  “I’m working on a new book,” Mina told Cort, her expression hopeful. “Since I can’t go on missions with them, they’re educating me about drug interdiction.”

  “Missions. Drug interdiction. Kidnappers. Blood on the floor.” His deep, angry voice was gathering speed and volume. “You never told me what you did for a living!”

  Mina grimaced. “I didn’t quite know how. The longer I put it off, the harder it got.”

  Under the wide brim of his dress Stetson, his eyes were glittery with rage. “You could have been killed!”

  “I’ve only ever been wounded once, and it hardly left a scar,” she countered, and then bit her tongue when she saw his expression.

  Ry whistled under his breath. “Mina, I think the boys and I will go along with the sheriff to give formal statements. We’ll be in touch.”

  “Thanks for what you did,” she replied.

  “Thanks very much,” Vic added, and shook hands with Ry. “I won’t forget you.”

  Ry smiled. “If you ever need us, we’ll be around. Take care of that baby, Mina,” he added with a smile in her direction.

  “I will. I’ll text you a photo when he’s born. And I may need a little more information,” she added without looking at her taciturn husband.

  “Text me. Let’s go, boys.” Ry threw up a hand and got out of the line of fire.

  * * *

  CORT WAS FUMING. He didn’t dare upset Mina any more than she’d already been upset, so he’d gone into his own room and closed the door. His wife was a famous author. She’d been in firefights. She was on bestseller lists. She went out with a group of commandos. And she’d let him think that she was a shy, retiring little rancher who liked to knit.

  He wanted to howl at the moon. He’d never had anything hit him so hard. Secrets. They were only just married and she kept secrets from him.

  There was a knock at the door and before he could tell the knocker to go the hell away, his father walked in.

  Cort was bareheaded, his suit coat off, his shirt unbuttoned. He looked outraged.

  “Can we talk?” Vic asked quietly.

  Cort drew in a breath. “I’ve seen that damned book everywhere,” he muttered. “It was at the last two cocktail parties I attended. She’s famous!”

  “Very famous,” Vic agreed. He smiled gently. “She got Sandra to forgive me. I guess I’ll be going to a psychologist to find out why I want to cheat on everybody. Mina’s special, and I mean that. She was probably afraid to level with you about what she did. You were so happy to label her a little homebody who knitted.” He shook his head. “She’s a hundred times more complex than that little Wyoming rancher you thought you knew.”

  “Complex.” He made a rough sound and picked up the whiskey he’d poured himself. “I’ve had a hell of a night,” he muttered. “I need some sleep before I try to cope with all this.”

  “That’s exactly what Mina said,” Vic agreed.

  He drew in a long breath. “She went on commando missions.” His heart stopped. He looked at Vic. “Recently?” he asked.

  Vic moved restlessly. “She’s still taking quinine tablets to prevent malaria. She went with the group to Nicaragua and helped rescue a kidnapped child.”

  “Oh my God,” Cort burst out. “She’s pregnant!”

  “Yes, but she didn’t know it at the time. I took her to Dr. Truett and he said she’s fine. So is the baby.”

  “Anything could have happened to her,” Cort exclaimed. “I thought she wanted to have kids and raise them. I didn’t know that she came with a whole damned career!”

  “Said the man who’s never home,” Vic murmured half under his breath.

  Cort glared at him.

  “Well, it’s true,” Vic returned. “You could have delegated that union mess, and you know it, Cort.”

  The other man shifted his feet and sipped his drink.

  “Marriage isn’t as easy as it looks,” Vic continued. “Look at me. I’ve failed at it miserably. At least, until now. I think I have a fighting chance at saving my marriage.” He pursed his lips. “You might try to save yours. I believe Mina’s packing right now to go back to Wyoming.”

  Cort’s heart jumped. But just for a few seconds, he thought how it would be if she did go home. He’d be free again, to pursue beautiful women, to live the life of a playboy. Did he want that, truly?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MINA WAS MISERABLE. Cort had looked at her as if he despised her. She should have tried to be honest with him. She’d brought this on herself. She knew it, but it didn’t help. Cort was furious, and he was right to be. She should have told him at the beginning who she really was, not have him find it out in a traumatic way, like he had tonight.

  She put the last few clothes in her suitcase and closed it gently. Well, she had a ranch to go back to, and she had the sweet baby lying snug in her womb. Many women had much less.

  She sat down in her wing chair and pulled out her cell phone while she waited for the house to be quiet so that she could call a cab to take her to the airport. She’d have to get a ticket. She was on her way to a website to buy one when she chanced on an item in a digital newspaper she read.

  Her eyes flamed. It was a photograph of her brand-new husband with his arm around a drop-dead gorgeous brunette at some cocktail party. He was nursing what looked like whiskey in a squat glass, and his smile was as brilliant as if he’d won the Nobel prize. She almost threw the phone across the room. Her husband! She’d convinced Sandra to forgive her own philandering husband, only to turn around and realize that she was in the same boat! And she thought, forgive, hell!

  She picked up an ugly vase on the dresser in her room and started out the door with it, fury making her face red. She went downstairs and looked for Cort. She found him standing behind a chair while he talked to his father an
d Sandra.

  “You snake in the grass!” Mina raged. She threw the vase at him.

  He caught it handily and put it down on the end table before he moved toward her, “What are you talking about?” he demanded with some indignation. Surely he was the injured party here!

  “This!” She pulled up the news item on her cell phone and showed it to him. “Explain that!”

  His mouth opened. His cheeks had a ruddy flush, high on his cheekbones.

  She glanced at Sandra. “Now I know how you felt!” she told the other woman. “He’s only been married a few days, and he’s already tomcatting around business dinners!”

  “I wasn’t!” Cort tried to defend himself.

  “You had your arm around her!”

  “I never!” he shot back. “Here. You look closely at that picture,” he added icily. “I had my arm behind her. I was reaching for my drink on the table!”

  She stared at the picture. It made her furious to see that he was right. He really didn’t have his arm around her. It just looked that way. But the cutline was damning: Texas Millionaire Courts Oil Princess.

  “Oh yeah?” Mina retorted. “Well, the headline sure is explicit!”

  “She’s married,” he said belligerently.

  “So are you!”

  Vic got up. “Okay, now,” he said, getting between them. “Listen. She had a career and didn’t tell you,” he told Cort. “While he—” he spoke to Mina, indicating Cort “—was apparently hanging out at business dinners with other women. It’s done. It’s over. You know about Mina’s career now,” he told Cort. “And you—” he indicated Mina “—know that he wasn’t running around on you. It was just a headline and some journalist’s attempt to start trouble. Everything’s out in the open. You both have to make peace. She’s pregnant,” he reminded Cort gently. He smiled. “And this time, I’ll get to know my grandchild, because you’ll both be here. So will I. Sandra and I talked about it. She thinks I need to take some responsibility for Latigo and the businesses, so you won’t be on the road so much, Cort. Now that her family is getting over its grief, she’s willing to live here.”