At the Crossroads (Buckhorn, Montana #3)(7)

He pulled his phone from his pocket and slid it down the counter before turning to Alexis. She handed hers over, and he slid it down as well. Bobby stared at him for a moment before scooping up both phones without a word. But as he walked away, Culhane realized that he’d seen Bobby somewhere before. Recently, but the memory eluded him.

“We just need food and medical attention for a gunshot wound,” Gene yelled over the racket. “Then we’ll be on our way.” That seemed to lessen the clamor a little.

“Eric, make sure no one moves.” Gene shifted his gaze to Bobby. “See about getting us some food to go.”

“How am I supposed to do that? You killed the damned cook. It isn’t like I can boil water,” Bobby whined. Gene turned the gun on him, making the younger man pale.

“I can cook,” Culhane said and shoved to his feet. He knew he had a better chance of defusing this situation on his feet. He heard Alexis let out a sigh as if not surprised he would volunteer.

As he turned to face the three, he could see that Gene was eyeing him with suspicion. “I believe those are my eggs back there burning to a crisp on the grill,” Culhane said as he took off his Stetson, laid it carefully on the counter and raked a hand through his thick dishwater-blond hair. He hoped his boy-next-door appearance made him look as harmless as any aw-shucks cowboy fresh off the ranch—and not a former deputy or a gun-toting criminal wanted by the law.

Bobby stood frozen in place as if waiting to see if Gene was going to shoot him—and turn the gun on Culhane as well. It took a moment before the older man lowered his weapon and gave a sharp, still-pissed-off nod.

The baby’s crying reached an earsplitting level as Culhane headed for the kitchen. He could see that it was starting to get under Gene’s skin.

“Somebody shut up that squalling kid!” Gene yelled. “Or I’ll shut it up!”

OF COURSE CULHANE had volunteered to cook, Alexis thought. It was so like him to put himself into even more danger, but at least now he could move around—which she was sure was his plan.

Not that she’d ever known Culhane to have a plan. In all the time she’d known him—about three years—he’d scoffed at plans.

“What would be the point?” he’d told her one time when they’d both been on the same deputy assignment. “We make a plan, it doesn’t work, we’re screwed.” He’d shrugged. “I just go with my instincts—wherever they lead me—and see what happens.”

She couldn’t imagine anyone living his life like that, and yet it seemed to work for Culhane. From what she could tell, he had few roots, had done a lot of other things before getting into law enforcement and never seemed to concern himself with the future.

“Do you really not have a five-year plan?” she’d asked soon after they’d met. The question had made him howl with laughter.

“Five years?” He made it sound as if that was so far off in the future that he found it incomprehensible.

“It’s not that unusual for a person to consider where they’d like to be five years from now,” she’d said, smarting a little. She’d always had a plan. Had one from the moment she awoke in the morning until she went to bed at night.

“So I’m going out on a limb here,” Culhane had said, “but I’m guessing you have a five-year plan. Where is it you see yourself in five years? Sheriff? Mayor? Governor?”

She’d waved the question off. “None of your business.”

He’d let it go, and she’d been glad since she’d wished she hadn’t brought it up.

Now she watched Culhane make his way into the kitchen and wondered if he had any idea what he was doing. Fortunately, he had good instincts—most of the time. But given that the man was now wanted for the murder of a wife Alexis hadn’t known existed, she had to question those instincts that had him now in the kitchen cooking for killers.

She tried to breathe. Since she’d awakened in bed alone this morning, she’d hurriedly packed an overnight bag and gone after Culhane. She’d feared she was on a fool’s errand. He would never let her take him to jail without a fight. Not to mention, she didn’t like the idea of turning him over to the sheriff who’d fired them. Culhane was in the middle of a wrongful-discharge lawsuit against the sheriff and his department. Could she really put him in the hands of a man like “Willy” Garwood? Would Culhane even last a night in jail?

She told herself that she was just her doing her job. She would hate for him to think this was payback for him leaving last night without even a goodbye. Or for him not bothering to even mention a wife and the murder charge.

He had to know that waking up alone in that big bed and finding out that he was now wanted by the law had left her more than shaken. She’d thought she knew him. Thought she knew his heart as well as she knew his body.

Why had he kept all of this from her? Just the thought made her sick to her stomach, something that had been happening a lot lately. He should have trusted her. He should have told her everything. He should also have known that she’d come after him. Just not for the reason he thought.

She had to take him in, get him locked up and safe. If not in Sheriff Garwood’s cell, then one where it would buy her time. As long as he was running loose, he was in danger—and not just from Garwood. Right now he was considered armed and dangerous. She couldn’t let some trigger-happy cop kill him.