Rustling Up Trouble. Delores Fossen
than an accusation. It could be the truth.
“Then why’d you have the hit order?” she pressed.
“Those minutes are over,” Dr. Howland growled.
They all ignored him, but Blue shook his head, looked at the doctor. “How long before my brain gets straight?”
“Probably a lot longer if you don’t get the rest you need.” He huffed. “Look, I don’t know if the memory loss is from the concussion, the bleeding or the emotional trauma of being in the middle of a gunfight. The only thing I know is that most people make a complete recovery. But they do that by resting and recuperating, not by getting in a shouting match with visitors who shouldn’t even be here.”
“It wouldn’t be from emotional trauma,” Caleb volunteered, once again ignoring the doctor. “Blue’s been in the middle of plenty of gunfights.” He, too, checked the time. “I’ll make some calls and speed up the arrangements to get you out of here.”
“Is moving him a good idea?” Rayanne asked, bringing their attention back to her. It probably sounded as if she was concerned about his health.
Okay, she was.
But not in a “welcome home, lover” kind of way. She didn’t want a move to delay the return of those memories, because she had to know what the devil was going on.
Dr. Howland opened his mouth to speak, but Caleb beat him to the punch. “I’m moving him. Blue’s a federal agent, and he needs to be debriefed.”
That got her attention fast. “Debriefed about what?” Because that was one of those fancy fed words that usually meant an agent was involved in something classified or deep undercover.
Caleb shot her a glare that could have withered spring grass. “This isn’t your concern, Rayanne.”
“To heck it’s not.” She lifted her phone screen in case he’d forgotten what was on there. “Someone hired him to kill me.”
“And we’ll get to the bottom of this. Not you. We,” Caleb repeated, tapping the shiny gold ATF badge on his belt. “I’ll be back to move him,” he added to no one in particular, and he left the room again.
“Your turn to leave,” the doctor insisted, looking directly at her.
Rayanne started to do just that. After all, she could do her own investigating from the Sweetwater Springs sheriff’s office. She wasn’t a deputy there. Her job was one county over, where she was on a leave of absence. But since her brother Cooper was the sheriff and since the shooting had happened on the ranch, she figured Cooper would be more than willing to give her some space to work.
Because something beyond the obvious wasn’t right here.
“I need to speak to Rayanne alone,” Blue said.
She combed through every bit of his expression but couldn’t tell if he was remembering something or if this was yet some other ploy. It didn’t matter. If he had anything to tell her, she wanted to hear it. Because if he did indeed confess to being a hit man, she was going to arrest his butt. And she didn’t care if this was a federal case or not.
Of course, if he confessed to something like that, jurisdiction was the least of her worries.
The doctor released a long, slow breath. “At least stay in bed when you talk,” he demanded.
Dr. Howland added a warning glance to both of them and then went into the hall. Caleb was out there, his phone pressed to his ear. No doubt making those arrangements to move Blue to another hospital.
The moment the doctor shut the door, Blue got up again, and this time it was a slightly less wobbly attempt. He took hold of the IV pole with his right hand and started walking.
“Don’t,” he mumbled as if he expected her to object.
She didn’t. But Rayanne did drop back a step when those wobbly steps brought him her way. And not just her way but directly in front of her. She resisted the urge to back up some more and held her ground. No gaze dodging. No fidgeting. She put on her lawman’s face and watched as he did the same.
For a second or two, anyway.
“I need to do something,” he said.
That was all the warning she got before he reached out, slid his hand around the back of her neck and put his mouth on hers.
Rayanne gasped, but the sound got trapped between their lips, and Blue ignored it. He kept on kissing her. Kept on moving his mouth over hers as if he had a right to do that.
Just kept on stirring heat that should have been stone cold.
It wasn’t.
And that riled her to the core.
Damn him for bringing all the heat and the memories flooding back. She’d buried Blue five months ago. Not just him, either, but that one hot night they’d shared. Rayanne intended for that to stay dead and buried.
She would have knocked him senseless, but apparently he already was. She didn’t shove him away, not with all his injuries, but Rayanne slapped her palm on his stomach and then backed up.
“What the heck are you doing?” she snapped. And thank goodness it sounded gruff and not breathless. Somewhat of a miracle since her breath was indeed a little thin.
“Still think I’d try to kill you?” Blue asked.
The cocky voice had returned in spades. Cocky demeanor, too. Blue was a pro at that in part because of his hot cowboy looks. Sadly, he was the best-looking man she’d ever met, and her stupid body wasn’t going to let her forget that.
Rayanne managed to hang on to her glare. “You kissed me to convince me that you don’t want me dead?”
He lifted his shoulder. The one that’d been shot. And he winced enough to wipe that cocky look off his face. “In part. I was hoping it’d make me remember.”
“Did it?”
That prompted him to run those sizzling gray eyes over her face and then lower. To her breasts. Then lower still. She didn’t know how he managed it, but a once-over like that from Blue felt like foreplay despite her pregnant belly.
“No,” he finally said. “But trust me, I’m pretty sure every part of me but my brain remembers you.”
Oh.
That felt like foreplay, too, and since that was the last thing she wanted, she did step back. She’d already had a big dose of Blue, and she wasn’t sure she could survive another round with him.
Best to think about the other mess. The one that involved those gunmen, living and dead. “Why’d the shooting happen? Give me something to go on. Anything to go on,” she added when he just stared at her.
Blue kept staring. “The last solid memory I have is the evening when we finished up that case over in Appaloosa Pass.”
She knew exactly which evening he meant. Rayanne had gone over the detail dozens of times. “The investigation had gone wrong. An innocent bystander was killed.”
He studied her. “We were upset.”
Oh, yeah. Rayanne had never broken down before. Not in front of anyone, anyway. But she had that night, and she’d ended up in Blue’s arms.
And with him in her bed.
He cleared his throat as if he’d filled in the blanks of his memory with some spicy details. “Afterward, did I say anything?” Blue asked. “Call anyone?”
“No, but someone called you. You said it was your good friend and fellow agent Woody Janson. You didn’t put the call on speaker, but I heard him say he wanted you to meet him in a diner in San Antonio.” Rayanne paused. “The guy sounded like he was in some kind of trouble.”
His head snapped up. “So Woody might know what happened. I need to