Delores Fossen - Rustling Up Trouble

“I have amnesia?” he asked. That was sadly the best-case scenario here. The worst would be some kind of permanent brain damage.

She lifted her shoulder. “You’d have to ask the doctor about that.”

And he would, the second the man came back. For now, though, he needed as much info as possible. “What happened after I disappeared?”

Rayanne studied him, the way a cop would study a suspect she thought was lying through his teeth. “I got word that you were dead. I can’t think of any good reason you’d let me believe that other than you really did want me out of your life.”

Oh, mercy.

It felt as if twin heavyweights had slugged each side of his jaw at the same time. Blue couldn’t speak. Heck, he couldn’t even catch his breath. Yeah, he was pretty much the love-’em-and-leave-’em sort, but there was no way he’d do something like that to Rayanne.

Would he?

“I looked for you when you left,” she continued, “but I got a message from your foster brother saying you were dead. That you’d been killed in Mexico.”

There was a massive amount of fog in his head, but he could sort through enough to remember some things.

“I don’t have a brother, either a real one or a foster,” he insisted. “And I sure as hell didn’t die in Mexico. I’m right here.” Blue reached for her, but she stepped back as if he’d tried to tase her.

Before Blue could get out of bed and do something to convince her that he wasn’t the bad guy here, the door flew open. Blue reached for his gun again. Cursed when it wasn’t where it belonged.

However, Rayanne pulled her Colt from her shoulder holster.

False alarm. It was Dr. Howland, but he wasn’t alone.

The sandy-haired, linebacker-sized guy who came through the door spared her and then her gun a glance as he flashed his badge and made a beeline for Blue. Thankfully, this man wasn’t a blurry memory.

It was Blue’s boss, Agent Caleb Wiggs, from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives—ATF.

At least, Caleb had been his boss five months ago. With everything else going on, Blue figured he could be wrong about that, too.

Rayanne seemed to know him, as well, and judging from her scowl, Caleb wasn’t on her list of friends, either. She reholstered the Colt as if she’d declared war on it, but she watched him with those cop’s eyes.

“You all right, Blue?” Caleb asked. He set a bag on the foot of the bed.

No way could Blue answer yes to that question. It might garner him a lightning bolt for such a big lie. “What’s going on?”

Caleb didn’t answer, but he looked at Rayanne and the doctor. “I need to talk to Agent McCurdy in private.”

“Agent McCurdy?” Rayanne questioned. She huffed. “Don’t you mean former agent?”

That got Blue’s complete attention. Great day in the morning. Along with his mind and gun, had he managed to lose his badge, too?

“I mean agent.” And Caleb didn’t sound any friendlier than Rayanne. “Blue still works for me.”

“Wait a minute,” Blue said, trying to figure this out. It didn’t help that his shoulder started clamoring for more pain meds. “What’s the date?”

“October 6,” the doctor provided. “And I hope everyone remembers that I just dug a bullet out of my patient here. He needs some peace and quiet so he can recover.”

“And he’ll get it,” Caleb insisted. “I’ve already made arrangements to have him moved.” He tipped his head to the bag. “Figured you could use a change of clothes for the drive to another hospital. One where I can make sure you have some security.”

“He’s not going anywhere, not until I get some answers first,” Rayanne insisted right back.

That started a staring match between his boss and the deputy he’d apparently crossed lines with. Big ones.

All four of them volleyed glances at each other. “I’ll give you a few more minutes,” the doctor finally said. “After that my patient will get some rest.”

Dr. Howland shot Caleb and Rayanne a warning glance that only an experienced doctor in charge could have managed, and he walked out.

Even with the doc’s latest exit, Caleb didn’t answer right away, and when he finally did open his mouth, he looked at Rayanne, not Blue.

“I can’t wrap all of this up in a neat little package for you,” Caleb started. “I honestly don’t know why Blue disappeared.”

“You said it was because he had ties to criminals,” Rayanne reminded him.

Oh, man. And Blue just kept mentally repeating that.

“He did have criminal ties.” Caleb’s gaze finally came to Blue’s. “If you’ve got an explanation about that, I’d like to hear it, because you didn’t just disappear five months ago. You walked away from your job at the Justice Department, and the only reason you’re still on payroll is because I’ve covered your butt and put you on a leave of absence.”

Hell. This just kept getting worse. Not the leave-of-absence part but the reason Caleb had been forced to do something like that for him.

Criminal ties?

No way. He didn’t need his memory to know that.

“The doc must have given me some meds that messed with my head.” A head that Blue now shook. “Because the last thing I remember was finishing up a case with Rayanne. After that, it’s just bits and pieces that don’t make sense. Why did I leave? And why did I come to the McKinnon ranch today with gunmen after me?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Rayanne mumbled, but then she waved off any answer he might give. “My brother Seth got IDs on the two dead guys. The bodies are being examined now, and there’s a CSI team searching the woods for evidence.”

Seth, an FBI agent. Blue had never met him, but he’d heard Rayanne mention him.

“The dead men’s names are Leland Chadwell and Brian Kipp,” Rayanne continued, and she watched his face. Maybe to see if there was any sign of recognition.

There wasn’t.

Blue had to shake his head again. “Who are they?”

“They’re hired thugs,” Caleb provided, “and, among other criminal sorts, they often work for Rex Gandy.”

Now, that was a name that rang bells the size of Texas.

Could this mess possibly get any crazier?

Gandy wasn’t just a thug—he was a rich one and had all kinds of nasty ties to gunrunners, money launderers and drug traffickers. As an ATF agent, Blue had dealt with Gandy on several occasions but always when he’d been undercover, and Blue had never been able to find evidence to arrest the piece of dirt.

“Gandy hired these men to come after me,” Blue said like gospel. “Why?”

Caleb gave him an odd look, as if the question had come out of left field. “You don’t know?”

Since it seemed the answer was clear to both Caleb and Rayanne, Blue went with the obvious answer. “Because Gandy’s riled that I keep investigating him.” But he investigated a lot of people, and that didn’t spur an attack to kill. “Why come after me now?”

Again, he got that look. Obviously, he was missing something here.

“I’ve arranged to have Gandy brought in for an interview,” Caleb added.

That was a good start, but Blue wanted a whole lot more. “You plan to answer my question about why Gandy would want me dead now?”

Caleb shrugged. “I figure it’s connected to whatever the heck you’ve been doing for the past five months, and I don’t have any details about that.” He mumbled something that Blue didn’t catch and scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I need to talk to Dr. Howland and see how long this memory problem of yours is going to last.”

Caleb added some really bad profanity and made a swift exit. Only then did Blue see the cop outside his door. Local, no uniform, but he had a badge clipped to his belt and was wearing a sidearm.