Twelve-Gauge Guardian

Raine felt her pulse thrum in her veins and her heart began to pound at the sight of the aging house. She could almost smell the rank mustiness. She hated old houses.

Closing the curtain on both the window and the past, she quickly packed up the few belongings that she hadn’t put in storage when she’d left home, then placed a call to a local car repair shop and made arrangements to have her flat tire fixed and her car brought into town, saying she would pick it up later.

She knew it was just a matter of time before that cowboy came looking for her. She was still shaken by her run-in with him at the hotel. He’d looked so much like the man she’d seen lying in the parking lot last night that it had taken her completely off guard.

Glancing around the room, she made sure she hadn’t left anything, then walked to the door with her overnight bag in hand. She opened it a crack to look out. The hallway was empty.

She pulled the gun from her waistband and, unzipping her overnight bag, laid it on top, making the weapon more accessible should she need it.

As she pushed open the outside door, she scanned the parking lot. The lot was empty except for the pickup she was driving and a large, luxury car with Texas plates parked at the opposite end.

Trying not to hurry, she walked to the pickup, tossed in her bag and climbed in after it. For a moment, with the doors locked and the gun handy, she just sat, not sure what to do next.

Run. Just drive in any direction and get the hell out of here. She could dump the pickup somewhere down the road. Early this morning, she’d dug in the pickup’s glove box looking for information on the man who’d shoved her out of the way of the van last night and had pulled up short when she’d seen who the truck was registered to. Cyrus Winchester of Winchester Investigations of Denver, Colorado.

What were the chances that the man who’d come to her rescue just happened to be a private eye?

She started the pickup but still didn’t hit the road. She was kidding herself if she thought she could leave. Even if she had her car and had left this pickup where Cyrus’s twin brother could find it, she couldn’t run. She’d hate herself the rest of her life if she didn’t follow through with this. Wasn’t it time she learned the truth—not to mention got the justice she deserved?

Last night the parking area behind the old hotel had been too dark to see the person driving the van. But Raine figured he had to be the same one who’d slashed her tire. He’d been waiting for her.

You were set up, girl.

It certainly looked that way. But why had someone gone to the trouble of luring her to Whitehorse? Surely not just to run her down in the hotel parking lot. They could have killed her in L.A. since at least one of them obviously knew where to find her—and where to send the messages that had gotten her here in the first place.

Why, after all these years, try to kill her? It made no sense. They had no reason to believe anyone was after them. But now the sheriff’s department would be looking for the dark-colored van because the driver had put Cyrus Winchester in the hospital.

And his brother would be looking for Raine. Finding her in a town the size of Whitehorse would be child’s play—for both the cowboy and the attempted killer.

Any woman in her right mind would hightail it out of town and not look back.

But Raine Chandler wasn’t just any woman, she thought with a curse.

Chapter Three

Cyrus looked pale, his head bandaged and a series of tubes and cords running from his lifeless body.

Cordell took his brother’s limp hand in both of his and sat down hard on the chair next to the hospital bed. No wonder he’d felt the connection broken between them.

“Cy, I’m here,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m going to find out who did this to you and take care of it. In the meantime …” He glanced away from his brother’s face, trying to compose himself. He didn’t want his brother to hear the fear in his voice. “I just want you to rest so you can wake up soon.”

He heard the scuff of a shoe sole behind him and turned to see the doctor standing in the doorway. He squeezed his brother’s hand and, reluctantly letting go, rose.

“Tell me about my brother’s condition,” he said, motioning for the doctor to come out into the hallway with him. He didn’t want to talk about it in front of Cyrus. He’d heard that comatose patients could hear what was being said to them and around them, and from the doctor’s grave expression the diagnosis wasn’t good.

“I’m Dr. Hanson,” the elderly man said, searching Cordell’s face. “Identical twins. You certainly gave my nurse a start.” He grew more sober. “As she told you, your brother is in a coma. He was already comatose when he was brought in so we were unable to get any information from him.”

“What caused the coma?”

“Blunt force trauma to the back of his head. There was also some bruising around the hip and left leg as if he’d been struck.”

“Like being struck by a vehicle?” Cordell asked. “Apparently he pushed a woman out of the way of a speeding van. She didn’t see what happened to Cyrus, but found him lying on the pavement.”

The doctor nodded. “That would be consistent with his injuries.”

Cordell had thought he would get the whole story from his brother once he reached the hospital. Now he saw that if he wanted to know any more about the accident he’d have to ask the woman. But first he had to make sure Cyrus was going to be all right.

“What can we do for him?” he asked the doctor.

“There appears to be no bleeding or swelling of the brain that requires surgery, but we will continue to monitor your brother closely. Right now he is stable, his vital signs strong. A coma rarely lasts more than two to four weeks.”

Others last for years, Cordell thought. “I know my brother. He’s a fighter. He’ll come out of this.” Soon, he prayed.

The doctor gave him a sympathetic smile. “We certainly hope so. Some patients recover full awareness. Others require some therapy.” His look said some were never the same. “We won’t know the full extent of your brother’s injury until he regains consciousness.”

If he ever does. Cordell kept hearing the words the doctor didn’t say. He felt helpless. But there was one thing he could do while he waited for his twin to come back and that was to get the bastard who’d done this to him.

That meant finding Raine Chandler, and getting the truth out of her.

AS RAINE DROVE THROUGH a residential neighborhood in Whitehorse, she pulled out her cell phone and hit a speed dial number, realizing she was calling in late.

“I was just about to call out the cavalry,” Marias drawled.

“Sorry, I’ve been a little busy.”

“Uh-huh.” Her friend had been against her coming to Whitehorse from the get-go. “What happened?” Marias knew her too well.

“I ran into a little trouble last night, but I’m fine.”

“They know you’re there already?” Marias let out an unladylike oath. But then there was nothing ladylike about the biker-turned-cop-turned-P.I.

“Not a huge surprise under the circumstances. I’m not sure where I’m going to be staying so I might not be able to get Internet or cell phone coverage. Seriously,” she said when Marias snorted in disbelief. “Whitehorse is in the middle of nowhere and once you get outside the city limits, all bets are off when it comes to high-tech devices.”

“You’re leaving?” Just like Marias to latch on to that.

“No, just maybe staying outside town if I can find a place.” Up the block, Raine spotted a tan sedan like the one she’d seen behind the hotel this morning. The car was parked in front of the new hospital. Of course he would go see how his brother was doing and his brother would tell him everything.

He would find out she’d been telling the truth. She hoped that would be the last she’d see of the cowboy.

Unless, of course, he and his P.I. brother were somehow involved. What if the plan last night hadn’t been to kill her but to save her? She would have been indebted to Cyrus Winchester. Maybe something had gone wrong and instead of saving her, he’d ended up in the hospital.

And now his identical twin was putting the strong arm on her.

A little paranoid, are you?

No, just covering all her bases, Raine thought. “I promise to try to stay in touch.” She hung up before Marias could argue that this trip was nothing more than a suicide mission. If she only knew how complicated this had become.

Raine pulled over under a large tree next to a house just down the block from the hospital. This might be the perfect opportunity to check out the car—and the man driving it.

She was about to get out of the pickup when she saw the twin come out and climb into the tan mid-size sedan. It had rental car written all over it. At least she’d been right about the car being the same one she’d seen parked behind the hotel this morning.

Sliding down in her seat, she peered through the steering wheel as he pulled out and headed toward downtown. Where was he going? She decided to follow at a safe distance and find out.

She was surprised though when the trail led to the sheriff’s department. If last night’s attack had been a ploy, then this cowboy wouldn’t be going to the sheriff about it. He would want to keep all this as quiet as possible—and handle it himself.

She pulled over again and dialed information for Winchester Investigations in Denver, Colorado. The phone rang three times before a woman picked up and from the brisk way she answered, Raine guessed it was an answering service.

“I’m calling for Cyrus Winchester.”

“I’m sorry, he’s not available. Both Cyrus and Cordell Winchester are out of the office. If you’d like to leave a message—”

Raine hung up. Both Winchesters were private detectives? No way would a P.I. go to the cops unless he was on the up-and-up.

So what were they doing in Whitehorse?

THE WHITEHORSE COUNTY Sheriff’s Department was located along the main drag in an old brick building. As Cordell climbed out of the rental car, he scanned the street.

In the diagonal parking spaces were a half-dozen trucks in front of the various businesses from a couple of bars and a café to a clothing store, beauty parlor, hardware and a knitting shop. None of the pickups were his brother’s, though.

Inside the sheriff’s department, Cordell spoke first to the dispatcher.

“I’ll see if the sheriff is busy,” she said.

He watched the street while he waited, feeling anxious. His fear was that the woman who’d called herself Raine Chandler would flee town. Her VW had California plates on it. What was she doing in Whitehorse? Apparently not just passing through. He’d had the good sense to take down the car’s license plate, assuming it wasn’t stolen. He wouldn’t put anything past the woman given that she was toting a gun and clearly involved in something more than a near hit-and-run.

“Yes?”

He turned at the sound of a female voice to find an attractive dark-haired woman in a sheriff’s uniform. Her head was cocked to one side as she perused him, her lips turning up into an amused smile.

“Which one are you?” she asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m sorry. I’m McCall Winchester, acting sheriff. I recognized you from some photographs my grandmother showed me of you as a boy.”

He caught her name and couldn’t help frowning.

“Trace Winchester’s daughter,” she said.

He felt his eyes widen.

She let out a laugh. “Yes, I did turn out to be his daughter no matter what my grandmother said at the time. I’m the true black sheep of the family.”

Cordell smiled at that. “It’s a family of black sheep.”

“Why don’t we step back to my office?”

He followed her down the hallway, surprised that his cousin was the acting sheriff. She took a chair behind her desk and he settled into one of the others facing her. “My brother and I are up here because of our grandmother’s letter.”

McCall nodded. She didn’t look happy about it.

“I’m guessing she isn’t dying and wants something from us.”

“That would be my guess,” McCall agreed.

Cordell hadn’t come here to talk about his grandmother and didn’t give a damn what she was up to. He was too worried about Cyrus.

“Do you know about my brother’s accident?” He saw that she didn’t, probably because Cyrus hadn’t had any identification on him. Which meant either the woman took Cyrus’s wallet—or the van driver had stopped long enough to take it.

“Cyrus was attacked last night behind the Whitehorse Hotel. He’s in a coma at the hospital.”

“I’m so sorry. I’d heard a man had been injured and taken to the hospital but I had no idea it was your brother. The deputy on duty last night talked to the clerk who’d apparently called for an ambulance, but he said the only vehicle in the lot belonged to a woman.”

Cordell nodded, thinking of the woman he’d tangled with earlier at the hotel. “The woman took my brother’s pickup. She told me a crazy story about almost being run down by a person driving a dark-colored van. Her tire was flat on her VW, she said she was scared and saw Cyrus’s keys on the ground and took off.”

“So you talked to her?”

He looked away embarrassed that he’d let her go. “I was about to check her identification when she got away.”

McCall raised an eyebrow at that. “I suppose that explains the blood on your shirt. It’s yours?”

He looked down, not realizing some had dripped onto his sleeve. “She said her name was Raine Chandler, but I really doubt—”

“The VW bug with the flat behind the hotel is registered to a Raine Chandler of Los Angeles, California.”

So she had been telling the truth—at least about that.

“Do you have some reason to doubt her story?” the sheriff asked.

Did he? Just a gut feeling that she was leaving out a whole lot of it. “I’m not sure. But with Cyrus in a coma, she is the only one who knows what really happened last night.”

McCall frowned. “I heard that you and your brother are private investigators, but I hope you’re not planning to take this matter into your own hands again. I’ll put out an APB on her and your brother’s pickup since she apparently didn’t have permission to take his truck and she left the scene of an accident and possible crime last night.”

“When you pick her up, I want to talk to her.”

His cousin seemed to consider that. “I think we can work something out. I take it you haven’t seen Grandmother yet.”

“No.”

“I’ll let her bring you up to speed on everything that’s been going on out there.” His cousin shook her head as if whatever it was wasn’t good.

Cordell rose from the chair, not bothering to tell her he had no intention of seeing Pepper Winchester. He had to find out who had injured his twin. He knew it was his way of dealing with Cyrus’s coma. He told himself that by the time he found the bad guys and at least saw that they were behind bars, Cyrus would be all right again.

“It was nice meeting you.” He reached into his wallet and took out his card. “My cell phone number is on there, but I’ll check back with you.”

RAINE CALLED MARIAS AGAIN. “I need your computer expertise. Can you check on a couple of private investigators out of Denver? The name is Winchester, Cordell and Cyrus Winchester of Winchester Investigations. See what you can find out.”

“Anything special you’re looking for?”

“Why they’re in Whitehorse, Montana, would be helpful.”

“I see. If you want to hang on … Do you happen to have a license plate number?” Marias asked.

“I can do better than that. I have Cyrus’s pickup registration.”

“I don’t want to know, right?”

“Right.” Raine reached over and opened the glove box. “Hold on, he’s about to move again.”

“He?”

“Cordell Winchester.” From down the street, he had just come out of the sheriff’s department. Raine leaned over out of view as she dug through the glove box, found the registration, then peered out cautiously as he climbed into his car.

Where to now? she wondered as she watched him start his car and pull away from the curb.

“What information would you like?” she asked her friend, then read what Marias asked for from the registration form as she waited for two cars to go by, then followed Cordell Winchester.

“Two brothers apparently,” Marias said into the phone. “Same birth dates?”

“Identical twins.”

“Really? Handsome?”

“As sin.”

“This is a professional request, right?”

“Strictly business,” Raine said and winced as she remembered the way her fist had connected with his nose. “No love lost between us.”

“Oh, so that means you’ve ‘met,’” her friend said with a laugh. “I hope it was romantic.”

“If romance is him holding me down in the middle of a queen-size bed.”

“Sounds good to me,” Marias quipped. “Hell, sounds damned good now that I think about it. Hmm, that’s interesting.”

“Are you going to tell me?” Raine asked as she tried to keep Cordell’s rental car in sight.

“I just did a little familial search. Father’s name Brand. Mother a Karla Rose French. Divorced. Grandfather Call Winchester, deceased. Grandmother Pepper Winchester, still living. Got to be a nickname, wouldn’t you think?”

“That’s what you thought was interesting?”

“No, it’s the part where Pepper Winchester’s address is Whitehorse, Montana.”

Cyrus and Cordell Winchester’s grandmother lived here? Pepper Winchester. “Why does that name sound so familiar?” Raine said more to herself than Marias. Up the street, Cordell Winchester made a quick turn at the corner two blocks ahead of her. He’d tagged her. “Gotta go.”

CORDELL COULDN’T BELIEVE it. He’d glanced in his rearview mirror and seen his brother’s pickup a dozen car lengths behind him. The woman was following him?!

He made a quick turn, then another down an alley. Unfortunately, he met a delivery truck coming in and had to back up and take another street.

Around the next corner …

No sign of the pickup.

Cursing under his breath, he searched each side street. She couldn’t have gotten away that quickly. No way.

Then he got lucky. Down a side street he spotted his brother’s truck go past a few blocks away. She was headed out of town!

Unfortunately, he had a stop sign, then several cars pulled out that he had to wait for. But the second he’d gotten the chance, he’d gone after her, not surprised to see the pickup hightailing it out on one of the secondary roads south.

He had to floor the rental car to keep the pickup in sight. Cyrus would have had a heart attack if he saw the way this woman was driving his truck. The thought brought a stab of pain.

The pavement ran out. Dust boiled up behind the truck. She took a curve, throwing up gravel from the tires. Cordell backed off a little after getting the windshield of the rental car pelted, several bits of gravel pitting the glass.

He fished out his cell phone to call the sheriff’s department, but found there was no cell phone service. It was just as well. At least now he could say he’d tried to call. The truth was he wanted to talk to Raine Chandler alone. He didn’t want her pleading the Fifth and getting locked away behind bars where he couldn’t get the truth out of her.

The narrow dirt road wound south over the rolling prairie, a roller coaster ride at this speed. He just prayed they didn’t meet another vehicle coming up the road. There was barely enough room for one car. Going this fast, Raine would never be able to get far enough over to let another car pass.

At first he was convinced he would come up over a hill and find Cyrus’s pickup wrecked at the bottom. But this apparently wasn’t her first time driving on roads like these. He wondered what part of California she was from that she’d learned to drive on narrow dirt roads rutted with washboard.

He gave her a little space, confident that with all the dust she was throwing up, she wouldn’t be able to lose him.

They left Whitehorse long behind them. As the country began to get more rugged, he realized they must be nearing the Missouri Breaks. He’d driven through the Breaks on the way to Whitehorse, crossing the Missouri River as it cut a deep gorge through this desolate, isolated country.

The country was familiar, too familiar, since he’d spent his first seven years living out here in the middle of nowhere on the Winchester Ranch. Unless he was mistaken, they weren’t that far from the ranch.

Cordell was beginning to worry he’d never be able to catch her if she cut across to Highway 191. But then he saw the pickup fly over a cattle guard and come down hard, the right rear wheel hitting loose gravel on the edge of the road. He got on his brakes to keep from going airborne off the cattle guard, as well, and saw the rear of the truck fishtailing.

He could see her fighting to regain control. She almost pulled it off. Then she hit a stretch of deep washboard. The pickup tires lost traction and the next thing Cordell knew the truck was headed for the ditch adjacent to the road.

Fortunately, the ditch wasn’t deep, but it was filled with water and mud which streamed up and over the truck before the vehicle finally came to a stop bogged down in the gumbo. Raine Chandler wasn’t going anywhere.

Cordell was already out of his car and running toward the pickup before the driver’s-side door swung open. He grabbed her and dragged her out, this time not giving her chance to go for her weapon.

Taking the gun from her jacket pocket, he stuck her pistol barrel against her temple, forcing her to her knees in the dirt next to the ditch as he held both wrists behind her. “Who put my brother in the hospital?”

“I told you—”

“I swear I will drown you in that ditch if you don’t start telling me the truth.”

He heard her take a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was shaking, no doubt from the adrenaline of the chase—certainly not from fear of him. There was a determination in her eyes that he’d misjudged before. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“If you let me up, I’ll tell you everything.”

He let out a bark of a laugh. “You think I’m going to fall for that again?”

“I already told you. I was crossing the parking lot behind the hotel when someone tried to run me down. Your brother shoved me out of the way, I fell and that’s all I remember. I must have blacked out for a moment because when I came to, your brother was lying there on the ground and I could hear sirens.”

He pushed her down harder, pressing the gun barrel into her temple. “Why didn’t you stay and tell the sheriff’s deputy what had happened?”

She shook her head, making him want to throttle her. “I told you. I was scared. I panicked.”

“Bull. You didn’t want to be involved. Why?”

“I was scared.”

He couldn’t imagine anything scaring this woman. He also didn’t believe she’d come back to the hotel this morning to find out Cyrus’s name. So what had she been looking for?

“Do you have a permit to carry this gun?”

She hesitated a little too long. “Not in Montana.”

“Why are you carrying a gun anyway?” he demanded.

“I live in L.A. You’d carry a gun, too.”

Cordell didn’t know what to think. Was it possible Cyrus had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or was this woman lying through her teeth?

“Why would someone want to run you down?”

“How would I know? Maybe they mistook me for someone else. Or maybe it was an accident. Now would you please let me up?”

“Like your tire on your car just happened to be slashed?”

He sighed. He was getting nowhere with her. He let go of her hands, standing back in case she came up fighting, which he half expected. To his surprise, she got slowly to her feet.