At the Crossroads (Buckhorn, Montana #3)(11)

When the men had come in, he’d seen trouble in every line of their bodies. He’d noticed at once that they were armed, but he hadn’t really looked at their faces. Now he studied Bobby. Where had he seen him before? The memory teased at the back of his brain. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was important. He’d seen Bobby somewhere recently.

“What can you make?” Eric asked, sizing him up and finding him unthreatening, apparently.

“Whatever you want,” Culhane said.

Eric turned to look back at Bobby. “What sounds good to you?”

Bobby stretched out his long legs, the gun resting on his thigh as he watched the others in the café to make sure no one made a sudden move. “Pancakes, egg, bacon, hash browns.”

Eric shook his head as his gaze came back to Culhane. “Make enough for three.”

“The guy outside said you wanted it to go?” he asked.

Eric’s gaze narrowed in warning. “You just tend to the cooking. We’ll go when we’re ready. Get too cocky and you’ll end up like that poor slob on the kitchen floor.”

Eric turned back to Bobby and the others. Culhane’s gaze went to Alexis as he tried to reassure her as he headed into the kitchen again. But she was no fool. He saw the worry and fear in her eyes. He knew she was thinking the same thing he was. They couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

He gave a small shake of his head as he met her gaze. He could see no easy way to defuse this situation without getting people killed. The three men weren’t leaving until they got what they’d come for. All the rest of them could do was wait.

Shooting her what he hoped was a reassuring grin, he told himself that he’d do what he could to protect her. He knew this woman. Alexis would be right in the middle of anything that went down. No shrinking violet this one, he thought as he leaned through the pass-through and said to her, “Your pancakes and bacon are coming right up, too.”

“What are you doing?” she whispered as if feeling the heat of his gaze on skin. It had always been like this between them. A connection that was both sexual and cerebral. Half the time he feared that she could tell what he was thinking. Often he sensed what she wanted, what she needed, especially in bed—or on the job when they were deputies.

“Just admiring the view,” he whispered and grinned.

She shook her head, her smile brief. “Save it, Culhane,” she whispered back, but he saw color rise to her cheeks and something spark in those golden-brown eyes. She hadn’t forgotten how good they were together. Maybe in time she could forgive him for not telling her everything about his past. If they lived that long.

But right now he had a murder charge hanging over him and was trapped in a small-town café with three killers and a room full of locals. Including a baby that could start crying again at any moment.

The atmosphere in the room was tense. They knew there was a bomb ticking in there and that it wouldn’t take much for it to go off and kill them all.



CHAPTER FIVE


BESSIE HURRIED INTO the kitchen, stopping at the sight of Leo lying in his own blood, dead on the floor—and the cowboy who’d been sitting at the counter. She didn’t have to check the cinnamon rolls to know that they weren’t quite ready. Earl Ray had only wanted to keep her busy so she didn’t worry. Ha, she thought as she got flatware, napkins, cups and a pot of coffee for the men who’d come in. Truth was that if she didn’t keep busy, she’d lose her mind. She’d waitressed her share over the years, and Cheri was in no shape to help. Better for the girl to stay huddled in a corner making herself invisible.

Bessie tried not to think about all the people held in there or Earl Ray being out in that van with a dangerous, armed man. She rued the ultimatum she’d given him this morning. They were probably all going to die today, anyway. She couldn’t miss the irony of it. Earlier her only problem had been being in love with a man who was still in love with his long-deceased wife. Hard to compete with the perfect late wife.

She put everything down on the table next to the man called Bobby, making a point not to look at the other one, Eric. There was something about him that turned her blood to ice water. Of the three, it was hard to tell who was the most dangerous. Definitely the man who had Earl Ray outside. But Eric was one worth watching.

Back to the kitchen, she also avoided looking into the expectant faces of those sitting at the tables. They were people she’d known her whole life. She knew that they were all looking at her as if she was going to save them. With what? A spatula?

All she could do was give them all cinnamon rolls when they came out of the oven. They’d all probably lost their appetites—if not still full from breakfast. But it would give them something to do while they all waited to see what was going to happen. The tension in the room was palpable. She knew it would take only one tiny spark for the whole place to go up.

Earl Ray was really the one everyone was depending on, just as they always had, as she always had. Her heart ached at the thought of him out there with a killer. She hoped he could do something for the man who’d been shot. But as knowledgeable as Earl Ray was, he wasn’t a miracle worker. What would happen if the man died?

She feared she already knew that answer. It gutted her to think that she might lose Earl Ray. Not that she’d ever had him, really. But since his wife Tory died, she and Earl Ray had become almost inseparable. Except for those lonely nights.