Wyoming Cowboy Sniper

“You folded like a card table and hit the ground before anyone could do anything.”

She scowled. “I find that story very hard to believe.”

“Well, I didn’t knock you around and then tie us both up. But someone with guns did tie us up, so we need to be quick about getting ourselves out of this mess.” But before they could do what needed to be done, she needed to recall one very important thing.

“You don’t remember why you came to see me?” he asked carefully.

“I’m assuming these goons had a gun to my head, because that’s the only way I would ever voluntarily go to see you. Unless you were being tortured. And I was invited to watch.”

“Nice.” Dylan sighed. This was going to make everything so much more difficult, but he didn’t have time to get his nose out of joint about it. “I need you to understand something, okay?” He took a deep breath. If she really didn’t remember years’ worth of stuff, he doubted she’d believe him. He doubted a lot of things, but he couldn’t let her go running around thinking it was just her. “You’re pregnant.”

She barked out a laugh. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious. That’s why we’re together. You came to tell me.”

“And why would I tell you... Oh. No. No.” She shook her head back and forth. “You really expect me to believe I slept with you?”

“We were very drunk.”

She shook her head, eyes wide. “I don’t believe it. There’s not enough liquor in the world.”

“Okay. Don’t believe it. But I need you to understand you are pregnant, it’s thirteen years later than you think it is and bank robbers have kidnapped us to get a ransom. But I’m going to get us out of this, and when we escape you have to do everything in your power to keep the baby growing inside of you safe.”

She went pale at that, but they didn’t have time to keep discussing. The van had been moving too long, too far, and they had to make a serious jump-and-run effort here. She had to believe it, even if she didn’t want to.

“It can’t be,” she whispered, pressing her hand to her stomach.

“But it is.”

Chapter Three

Vanessa didn’t believe him. Maybe things were all wrong—from the lines on his face to the nausea in her gut to the van they were trapped in—but she would have never slept with Dylan Delaney, even with a blow to her head.

And he would have never slept with her.

Dylan was fiddling with the door, looking serious and in control. He’d been beaten up pretty badly, but he didn’t seem to pay it any mind. He wore a suit—and even though it was dirty and rumpled, she could tell it was expensive.

Her eyes stung, and it took a few moments to realize she wanted to cry. Everything was wrong, like a bad dream where only half the things made sense, no matter how real it all felt.

But cry? Not her. Not in this lifetime. She blinked a few times, and focused on the here and now. Not anything Dylan was claiming, but the fact they were tied up in the back of a van, and now Dylan was using her knife and his bloody hands to mess with the door.

“Can I help?” she managed to ask once she could trust her voice.

“Just sit back.”

She scowled. She wasn’t a sit-back kind of girl, but she wouldn’t have pegged Dylan as a take-charge kind of guy. Sure, to order people around maybe, but not to try and bust them out of a moving van.

How could this all be happening? She was about to demand he explain this and tell her the truth instead of his nonsense dream—lies—about her being pregnant with his baby.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, acknowledging that she might feel really off. But couldn’t that just be the head injury? Couldn’t Dylan have caused the head injury? Sure, he was all beat up, and he’d been tied up too, but...

She tried to remember. Tried to order her thoughts and memories, but the very last thing she remembered was flipping off Dylan’s dad as she left the Delaney General Store.

Not her finest moment, but...

But nothing. The old jerk deserved it. She opened her eyes to the young Delaney jerk in front of her, still trying to jimmy the back door open. He didn’t look right. He looked older. Was she really missing such a big chunk of time?

She looked down at her hands. There were pink marks and scratches where the zip ties had dug into her skin around her wrists, but otherwise her hands looked the same. Same rings she always wore... Well, maybe not exactly. She fiddled with a dainty-looking gold one in the shape of a mountain. She didn’t remember that one.

She had to find some kind of center—both a mental one and a physical one. This weakness in both wouldn’t save her, and it wouldn’t fill in whatever memory blanks she had.

But the van chose that moment to rumble to a stop, followed by the engine shutting off.

Oh, God.

Dylan swore, then sat down on the floor of the van right by the doors. “Stand behind me,” he ordered, like he knew what he was doing, like he could get them out of whatever this was. “Be ready to jump. On my signal, run as fast as you can for whatever cover you can find.”

“What about you?” Not that she cared about Dylan, but...

He flashed her a grin so incongruous with the Dylan Delaney she’d grown up alongside, she could only gape at him.

The door made a noise, like a lock being undone. “Be ready,” Dylan murmured, leaning back on his palms as he watched the door.

“What are you—”

The door began to open, and on an exhale Dylan kicked his legs out as hard as he could against the doors. There were twin grunts of pain as the doors hit something, but Dylan didn’t pause. He flung the doors back open and jumped out.

“Go!” he instructed.

Because she saw one man on the ground, struggling to get to his feet, with a huge gun next to him, she did as Dylan instructed. She jumped out of the van and immediately started to run.

“Opposite way!” Dylan yelled. She turned, ready to do whatever Dylan instructed if it’d get her out of here, and watched in the fading dusk as his yell ended on a grunt as one of the large men landed an elbow to his gut.

Dylan Delaney, a hoity-toity Delaney who was getting a fancy degree and likely hadn’t done an ounce of manual labor in his entire life, took the blow like it barely glanced off him. Then he pivoted, swept a leg out and knocked one large man on his butt. Dylan reared back a fist and punched the other guy in the throat, then whirled as the fallen man got back to his feet.

Vanessa blinked.

“Go!” Dylan yelled at her, and it got through her absolute shock at seeing him fight like he knew what he was doing. No, not even like he knew what he was doing. Like he was born to do it.

But there were angry men and guns, so she ran the opposite way she’d been going, toward the front of the van. It acted as a buffer between her and the men and gave her the opportunity to get away without them seeing exactly where she was going.

Dylan knew what he was doing—between the instruction to run this way and fighting off two men. What the hell? She shook away her confusion and focused on running as hard as she could. Her stomach lurched and her head throbbed, but the guns brought it home that she was running for her life here.

And your baby’s life?

She couldn’t think about Dylan’s nonsense right now. She just had to get away. She ran hard, but the farther she ran, the darker it got. She had to slow her pace so she didn’t trip. So she didn’t throw up.

With heaving breaths, she slowed to a stop and pressed her hand to her stomach. She had a cramp in her side that felt like a sharp icepick. When she stopped, she was nearly felled by a nasty wave of nausea. Her head downright ached, and the stinging behind her eyes was back.

But she was in danger, and a Carson knew how to get herself out of danger. She swallowed at the sickness threatening, focused on evening her breath, then studied her surroundings.

She had run for the trees—the best cover she could find—but they were spindly aspens, and it wasn’t ideal to be hiding behind even a cluster of narrow trunks. The van must have driven them up in elevation, but where? It was completely dark now, and she couldn’t get a sense of her bearings.

Panic joined the swirl of queasiness in her stomach. She breathed through both. She could survive a night in the wild. She didn’t particularly care to, but she could survive. As long as Dylan had taken care of those two armed men, she was safe enough. Anyone could brave the elements for one night.

And if Dylan didn’t fight them off?

It was hard to imagine it. He’d moved like a dancer. A really violent, potentially lethal dancer. Dylan Delaney. She would have labeled him the prissiest of the four Delaney kids. Even his younger sister Jen had more spitfire to her than Dylan.

But he was claiming they’d slept together, that he’d impregnated her somehow, and then she’d watched him fight like a dream.

Touching fingertips to the bump on her head, where everything throbbed and ached, Vanessa had to wonder if the blow had caused hallucinations.

Either way, she was alone in the dark in the middle of the Wyoming woods. She lowered herself to the ground, leaning her back against one of the rough trees. It was uncomfortable, and a chill was creeping into the air.

It would be fine. There wasn’t snow on the ground, and the leaves still clung to the trees, though they’d gone gold in a nod to fall. But they hadn’t completely fallen.

Luckily, she was too nauseous to be hungry, though she wouldn’t mind a drink of water. But she’d live. She was alive, and she’d live.

“There you are.”

She would have screamed if a hand hadn’t clamped over her mouth. She turned her head to find herself face-to-face with Dylan. It was too dark to make out the individual features of his face, and yet she knew it was him.

“Shh. Okay?”

She nodded and his hand fell off her mouth.

“What happened? How are you... How am I... What is going on?”

Breathing only a little heavily, he scanned the dark. “I managed to incapacitate one.”

“Incapaci-what?”

“I didn’t have time to incapacitate the other,” he continued, clearly not worried about how odd his word choice was. “Figured I had a better chance to catch up with you so we’re armed.”

And he had caught up with her.

He’d fought off two armed men like he belonged in some sort of action spy movie, run fast enough to catch up with her and now, in his rumpled, torn suit, was holding a giant semiautomatic weapon as if he knew how to use it.

“Who are you?”

He flashed her that incongruous grin again, just barely visible in the night around them. “Well, clearly not who you think I am.”

* * *

THEY WERE IN TROUBLE. Dylan would be less worried about being stuck he wasn’t quite sure where in the dark if Vanessa wasn’t pregnant and sporting a hell of a head injury. He couldn’t let himself dwell on that too much. All he stood to lose.

No, a good soldier focused on the mission at hand, not the future.

He hadn’t had a chance to put his real talents to use, he thought bitterly as he looked at the gun. Knocking out the first guy and getting his weapon had taken more time than Dylan cared to admit, and when the second guy had hopped into the van and tried to run him down, Dylan’s best choice had been to run, not shoot like the sniper he’d been once upon a time.

“I need an explanation,” Vanessa said, and he knew she wanted to sound strong and demanding, but he heard the tremor of fear in her voice.

How had this day gone so far to hell so fast?

“I don’t really have one,” he said softly. None of this made sense to him. A bank robbery was foolish, but they’d gotten away with it. Except they hadn’t taken any money. They’d taken him and Vanessa.

“More of one than I do.”

Dylan sighed. He couldn’t see well in the dark, but he was fairly the certain the other man had lost him in the trees where his van couldn’t follow and headlights couldn’t penetrate deep enough.

Still, Dylan needed to be on alert until morning. Maybe with daylight he’d be able to figure out where they were and get them home.

Surely someone knew something was wrong at this point, with both him and Vanessa missing, Vanessa’s car in the bank’s parking lot. Adele was likely hurt—he had to accept that more-than-possibility, and she didn’t have anyone waiting for her at home. But maybe she wasn’t fatally hurt and—

“Dylan. Answers.” Vanessa gritted her teeth, and he wondered if it was to keep them from chattering.

“Still no memory, then?”

She was silent for a few moments, except for the rustling of her fidgeting. “No. I... No. My last memory is that morning in the store with your dad, but if I try to come up with a year or how old I am, it all jumbles up. Some things make sense and some don’t.” Her voice trembled at the end, and she didn’t say more.

“You seem to be missing about a decade. More than, actually. I’ve been home from...college for ten years.”

“Why’d you pause all weird before you said college?”

“I didn’t,” he replied, irritated that she’d picked up on that. “Now, can we focus on the here and now?”

“I have amnesia and lost ten years plus off my life and you—”

“Just fought off two armed men who wanted to kick us around and use us for ransom. In the best-case scenario. Now we’re alone in the woods with no supplies or help. Do you have any idea where we are?”

“It’s too dark. It’s too...”

He wouldn’t let her panic, so he spoke over her. “The way I figure it we drove south out of town, and kept on that way since the sun was setting into the window when we left. That puts us close to Carson territory. Maybe.”

“Maybe. But none of this looks familiar to me.”

“That’s okay. We don’t want to be moving around in the night anyway. In the morning we’ll have a better idea.” One way or another. “How are you feeling?”

“Am I really...?” She paused, then audibly swallowed.

“Pregnant? As far as I know. You came by the bank to tell me. That’s when these men came in. I hope they didn’t kill Adele.” He muttered the last to himself. “I was too hard on her. Sharp mind, abrasive attitude, sure, but she was always a stellar employee. I should have...” Not the mission at hand though. He blew out a breath. “You need to rest. Tomorrow might be a bit of a rough day. We’ll have a lot of walking to do.”

He moved from a crouch to a seated position next to her. He positioned the gun so he was able to hold it and wrap his free arm around her shoulders.

She tensed and leaned away. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Being your makeshift pillow, sweetheart.”

“You think I’m going to sleep on you?” She sounded so horrified it gave him some semblance of hope.

“You may not remember, but you’ve done a lot worse on me.”

She recoiled, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “If it helps, on that front, I don’t remember either. It is no exaggeration that the night we were together was the drunkest I’ve ever been. Somewhere during the reception my mind goes black.” Maybe he had a few flashes here and there of soft sighs or the silk of her hair, but she didn’t need to know that.

She didn’t lean into him, but she’d stopped leaning away. “I...”

“It’s going to be a chilly night. We’ll keep each other warm. Hopefully, you catch a few hours sleep. We move at first light. No ulterior motives. Just common sense and getting through this...ordeal.”

“Are they going to come after us?”

Dylan wanted to lie, to reassure her. It was strange to want to comfort Vanessa, but she wasn’t herself. She was pregnant. With a bump on her head. And amnesia. She was a mess, and everything in him had softened completely at that.

Still, it was important she knew what they were up against. “I have no idea. Which is why you need to sleep, and I’ll keep watch.”

“Don’t you need to sleep?”

“I’ll be just fine.”

She leaned into him, slowly, almost incrementally. Eventually, her head rested against his shoulder.

It felt oddly comforting.

“Where did you learn to fight?” she asked, her voice thick with exhaustion.

Briefly, he wondered if he should keep her awake because of concussion concerns, but she needed rest. She was pregnant. And they had no food or water. Surely rest was better, and it wasn’t like they’d get much anyway.

He didn’t answer her question, and when she didn’t push, he figured she’d fallen asleep.

Funny, Vanessa was one of the few people who probably wouldn’t be horrified by where he’d learned to fight, by all the lies he’d told. She’d love it.

She’d also tell his family with relish and glee, regardless of the accidental pregnancy.

Why that made him want to smile in the middle of this mess, he didn’t have a clue.

Chapter Four

Back in Bent

Laurel Delaney parked her police cruiser in front of Delaney Bank and glanced at the man in the passenger seat.

Deputy Hart didn’t know it yet, but she’d asked him to be her second on this call because soon enough she’d have to disclose her pregnancy to her superiors. They might let her continue to do some light detective work but not in the field. Desk duty. Ugh.

Regardless of how she felt at having to sit things out for months, Hart would be a good replacement for the duration of her desk duty and maternity leave. Yet that didn’t make it easy to accept someone else taking the role she’d worked so hard for. Bent County only had one detective spot, and she loved it.

Sometimes you sacrificed what you loved for who you loved. She may have only just found out about this baby, but she already loved the child she and Grady had created with everything she was.

Which was why Hart would take the lead on this case. Probably best regardless of her physical condition, considering the man who’d called it in was her father.

Dad stood in front of the bank, looking grave and irritated. His patented look.

He didn’t know about the pregnancy yet—no one but her and Grady did at this point. Dad wouldn’t be happy. But then, nothing about his children’s choices of significant others lately made him happy. Dylan and Jen were his only hopes. Laurel and Cam had been relegated to black sheep at best due to their choice to connect their lives with Carsons.

It hadn’t been a choice, falling in love with Grady. Though she supposed they’d chosen to center their lives in that love.

Laurel sighed and gave Deputy Hart a thin smile. “I’d ask you to take the lead, but my dad is only going to want to deal with me.”

Hart grinned. Laurel knew he cursed his baby face, but she thought it’d often work in his favor as a detective. People underestimated the sharp mind and conscientious attention to detail underneath. “I’m counting on it,” he offered cheerfully.

Laurel rolled her eyes but got out of her car. Darkness had settled around the bank, but the lights were still on. She took a deep breath of fresh air and shored up her patience to deal with her father.

“Dad.”

“Laurel.” He didn’t even give Hart a cursory look. “Took you long enough.”

“You said it wasn’t an emergency.”

Dad merely shrugged. “Have you heard from Dylan?”

“No, but I wasn’t expecting to. Why don’t you tell me what you think happened?”

“I don’t know what happened,” Dad snapped. He smoothed out his features, clearly remembering that it wasn’t just her in his audience. He had to play the role of upstanding Delaney for Deputy Hart. “I was driving home from the airport after my meeting in Denver. I passed the bank and saw the normal lights on instead of the security lights. So I pulled in, thinking someone had forgotten to switch over to closing lights, but the door was unlocked and no one was inside.”

“And you suspect foul play?”

Dad pressed his lips together, a sure sign of irritation. “I don’t know what to suspect. Neither your brother nor Adele will answer their phones. The safes are all closed and locked, and nothing appears out of place, but the evening paperwork wasn’t done, so I can’t be sure if every dollar is accounted for.”

“So it was just Adele and Dylan working?” She nodded at Hart to start taking notes, pleased to see he already was. He was going to be a good replacement. Just hopefully not so good she couldn’t get her detective spot back when she returned from maternity leave.

But that was so far away. She didn’t need to think about it now.

“As far as I know. Adele was scheduled to close. Dylan wasn’t scheduled, but it’s not unheard of for him to be here until close. Still, we didn’t have any meetings, and he tends to check in with the foreman at the ranch before the foreman’s done at five.”

“Why don’t Hart and I take a look around? Have you been home to see if Dylan’s there?”

“No, but I called George and he hadn’t seen him.”

Laurel felt the first little tickle of worry at the base of her spine. “Hart, I’ll take the inside. You take the outside. Dad, do you have security tapes?”

He puffed out his chest. “Of course. I haven’t had a chance to look at them. I called you once I realized my bank had been abandoned and unlocked for who knows how long.”

“Pull up the footage,” Laurel instructed, stepping inside. She began to look around the front counter. Though she’d never planned on following her father’s footsteps at the bank, she’d spent some time working as a part-time teller when she’d been in the police academy, since Dad had refused to pay for that.

She knew her way around, and nothing appeared out of place. It didn’t look like your typical burglary. Surely it had just been someone’s mistake. She couldn’t imagine her brother or Adele Oscar, one of Dad’s higher-up employees, being that careless. But maybe if there’d been an emergency elsewhere?

Yet there was the gut feeling that had gotten her through her years as a deputy, and now as Bent County Sheriff’s Department’s detective, that told her something was off. That this was more than an oversight.

Hart appeared at the front doors. “There are two cars in the employee lot out back,” he said. “You want to come see if you recognize them?”

Laurel nodded and motioned Hart to follow her through the back hall that would cut through the bank to the back lot. She passed Dad’s office and stopped when she saw him scowling and punching at the computer keys.

He looked up and, though his face was scowling and angry, she saw the hint of worry in his gaze. “I’m not sure what happened, but there’s no footage today. It appears the cameras were turned off last night.”

“Purposeful?”

Dad shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose it could be an accident, but whoever did it had access.”

“I’ll need a list of anyone who has access and opportunity to turn on or off the cameras. Hart, sit down with him and write down everyone who had access. I’m going to check out the cars.” She moved through the back hallway briskly, that gut feeling diving deeper.

She immediately recognized the first vehicle, her brother’s sleek sports car. It was enough to make her feel uneasy. Why would Dylan have left his car behind? Still, she could have come up with a few reasons. But the second car, parked farther down, made her stomach flip over in absolute police-level concern.

What was Vanessa Carson’s car doing in the Delaney Bank parking lot? That wasn’t just abnormal—it was unheard of.

Laurel immediately pulled out her phone. When the rough voice answered, the noise of his saloon a steady hum behind him, she couldn’t smile like she usually did. “Grady.”

“What’s up, princess?”

The nickname didn’t bug her anymore, but this feeling did. “Have you seen Vanessa today?”