Page 15 of Lone Star Showdown

Not Paulie.

And that’d been why Jericho had cursed a blue streak when he’d gotten a glimpse of the man’s face under the balaclava. He’d wanted it to be Paulie so the threat to Rachel would be over. No such luck. Now, they had to figure out who the hell the guy was and why he’d tried to kill them.

The man hadn’t had any ID on him, and Jericho didn’t get a hit on the facial recognition of the photo he’d snapped before Sheriff Bree O’Neil and two deputies had arrived on the scene. So, that meant the identification was now in the hands of the medical examiner, who’d take fingerprints and put them into a database that Jericho hoped would have a quick turnaround. The sooner they found out the guy’s name, the sooner they could see if and how he fit to Paulie, Marla or their daughter, Manson.

Bree was at her desk, having a conversation with the ME. The most recent of many conversations a sheriff had when dealing with a crime scene.

And dealing with an asshole like Arnez.

Arnez had been extremely vocal in letting any and everyone know, including the sheriff, that badges weren’t welcome at Stronghold. Arnez’s venom had gone up multiple notches when Bree had informed him he’d need to come into the station and give a formal statement, that he might even face charges.

Yeah, that hadn’t gone over well at all.

But Arnez had indeed gunned down what had turned out to be an unarmed man. Even if the guy had tried to kill them just minutes earlier, what Arnez did was excessive force. Along with being a serious pain in the ass. Not only because this unidentified man was dead, but now Rachel and he couldn’t question him as to why he’d come to Stronghold to kill.

“Are you okay?” Rachel asked.

Jericho’s attention hadn’t strayed too far from her, but that got him meeting her gaze. And cursing again. Because he saw the butterfly bandage on her head. It covered the wound the gunman had given her when he’d fired shots at the concrete pylon. Jericho wanted to kick the guy’s ass for that alone.

He wanted to kick himself, too, for allowing Rachel to be put in a position where she could have been killed.

He’d figured there would be a good chance the killer, or in this case, the killer’s henchman, would be at Stronghold, lying in wait. It’d been the reason the SOB had sent Rachel that text.

And, sadly, it’d worked.

Or rather it’d come too damn close to working. The butterfly bandage was proof of that. So was the aching bruise on the top of his left shoulder where the gunman had shot into the Kevlar. The vest had protected Jericho from a bullet wound, but the shot had left him with a nasty bruise.

Since Rachel made a glance at that bruise, he knew her question of Are you okay was about that.

“I’m all right,” he assured her.

That was mostly true. Physically, he was fine. But he was anxious to get to the bottom of who wanted Rachel and those other women dead. Anxious, too, to get out of the police station and go home, where he had lightning-fast access to databases and equipment that might give them answers.

First though, they needed to see what Paulie and Manson had to say.

After Rachel and he had filled Bree in on Paulie’s and Manson’s possible involvement in the attack and the murders, Bree had contacted them and ordered them to come to Canyon Ridge PD for an interview. Supposedly, they were on the way, and once they heard what the pair had to say, then Rachel and he could leave.

And that brought Jericho back to something that had been circling in his mind.

“You know the best thing will be for you to stay with me,” he said, making sure it didn’t sound like a question. Because it wasn’t. “Tilda is welcome, too, though I figure she won’t leave Stronghold.”

“She won’t,” Rachel was quick to verify. Thankfully, Bree had helped with that by having her deputies take Tilda’s and some of the others’ statements at the compound.

Rachel looked at him, studying him, before she sighed. She didn’t voice what he was pretty sure she was thinking.

They’d end up in bed.

Jericho had come to accept they were pretty much mindless when it came to each other and sex. But there would be a Texas-sized asterisk next to this particular sleepover.

“We don’t have time for sex,” he said under his breath, hoping Bree hadn’t heard. And if she had, hoping she wouldn’t react.

She didn’t.

Well, other than a slight smile while she continued her conversation with the medical examiner.

Rachel sighed again. “That’s BS, but it’s a good goal to strive for.” She stopped, snaring his gaze again. “I don’t want anyone else to die, Jericho.”

“I’m with you on that,” he agreed, “and I’ll go one step further. If the dead guy isn’t the killer, if he was just a hired gun, then I want to find his boss, AKA the real killer, before he can do any more damage.”

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