Black Ice

by Black, Regan

  Opening the text messages, he sent a private message to Cordell, suggesting he postpone the robbery.

  Cordell: Cold feet?

  Wyatt: Common sense. Move the meet.

  Cordell: Meet stays. Contact is out of reach.

  Wyatt: Understood.

  Great. This was going down, weather be damned. He considered warning Cordell that the route might shift, but didn’t bother. He watched the minutes tick down on the clock displayed on his phone. Right on time, Tate Cordell strolled by the restaurant, crossing from the slot machines toward the retail row of shops. It was the first time Wyatt had seen him here at the casino and he looked for all the world like a man without a care.

  Wyatt fought back a sudden urge to blow up the entire plan. Sure it would cost him his reward money but Evie wouldn’t hate him. With one text or an anonymous phone call, he could tip off the casino security staff. A trickle of dread slid down his spine as he considered it. Upping the timeline, trying to stick with the same escape route in this weather was all wrong.

  With twenty minutes to go, he received a reminder from Pickering that local support was officially suspended for weather, followed by a suggestion to keep Cordell and his crew in the building.

  Sure, because a standoff in a building that couldn’t be evacuated would be so much more appealing than an escape through a blizzard. Was the snow impairing everyone’s common sense?

  He sat back, a picture of calm when he wanted to jump on the table and scream out his frustrations. That was tempting, another action that would bring in security from all sides. Of course, if he did that, Cordell would use the distraction to his advantage and Wyatt would be left twisting in the wind trying to explain his breakdown to the FBI.

  Nearby one of the slots paid out, complete with flashing lights, bells and music, and the coveted sound of tokens overflowing the tray. Hooray for payday, he thought, thoroughly disgusted. His mother had craved that singular, raucous sound over everything else, including food, water, and her only child. She’d chased that ultimate mood lifter, heedless of what went undone or unsaid.

  With only ten minutes to go, Wyatt scanned the area, confirming the security teams were where they needed to be. He dropped cash on the table to cover his coffee, though he gave serious thought to charging it to the room. That option too would’ve given him a way to write a note and warn someone outside the FBI that a robbery was about to occur. Instead, he stuck with the plan, even though the FBI had suddenly withdrawn their tactical support.

  He took up his new position in a seating area between the retail space and their intended exit. His expression neutral, he kept his gaze on his cell phone and waited for the alarm to sound.

  “Wyatt?”

  At the sound of Evie’s voice, his mind blanked. This could not be happening. She was supposed to be in the ballroom. If he doubted it before, here was confirmation that the operation was cursed.

  “I thought you were busy with the private event.” Too busy to have lunch with him.

  “What’s wrong?” Her smile faded as she studied his face. “You look more upset than you did earlier.” She bit her lip. “It’s being here, isn’t it? And now you’re stuck.” She turned him toward the hotel. “Come on. I can get you set up with a massage.”

  “No, Evie. Wait.”

  “On the house,” she said.

  He dug in his heels, blocking her view of the jewelry store and preventing her from dragging him out of position. In his head he swore a blue streak in Cordell’s general direction. “You should get back to the ballroom. Don’t want to miss any good tippers.”

  “It’s less of a priority,” she said. “Between you and me, Cottonwood just hit the jackpot.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Pickering could not be right about Evie.

  “An investor reached out with a generous offer that will let me get things back on track.”

  “Who? How much?”

  “That’s not your business.”

  He checked his phone. In less than three minutes alarms would sound, his life would fall apart. “You should’ve come to me.” He tried to steer her toward the ballroom, out of harm’s way.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now you sound like my father.”

  It aggravated him that she’d gone to someone else for help. That she’d had to. Part of him was sure that should be his job, despite walking out on that role eleven years ago. Any second now she’d find out that her investor was a fraud, using her for… well, Wyatt wasn’t sure yet.

  “Did you vet this person? Have you met or drawn up contracts?”

  Her gray eyes blazed with temper. “Mr. Jameson, please excuse me. Enjoy your stay at Silver Aces.”

  He didn’t want her to leave angry, he just needed her out of the way. The flash of relief that she was gone evaporated as she turned toward the sudden shouting match behind him.

  What was Cordell doing? The robbery should’ve gone off without any kind of shouting, only a standard alarm. He turned toward the noise, tucking Evie behind him as the glass door fronting the jewelry store exploded in a rain of sparkling shards. Also, not part of the plan.

  The alarm sounded and Cordell, Baker, and Karl appeared, their boots crunching on the mess, grinding the glass against the marble floor as they hustled his way. The uniformed guard wasn’t anywhere in sight, but the two plain-clothes guards were in pursuit and pulling their guns.

  “Stop them,” Evie said, pushing at his back.

  He stepped into their path as he tried to shove Evie back and out of the way. He had to distance himself from her while still holding up his end of the exit plan.

  Behind the trio of robbers, one of the men raised his gun and took a stand. “Freeze! Casino security!”

  Cordell kept moving and the calculating grin on his face sent a chill over Wyatt’s skin. “A hostage, smart move.”

  Damn it, Tate was right. It was the only safe play. As the three men passed by, he fell in behind them, dragging Evie along. He did his best not to hurt her, but he had to restrain her and make it convincing.

  “Wy…att—”

  She couldn’t get the words out well with his forearm across her throat. “Cooperate, Miss Cotton,” he said in her ear. “Cooperate and this goes easier for all of us.”

  He eased the pressure at her throat, but kept her arm pinned behind her back, steering her movement. The guards hesitated, barking at each other and at them, but Wyatt knew they wouldn’t shoot and risk hurting her. Caution was the standard procedure when a civilian was in the way.

  Cordell, in the lead, pushed open the door and cold air struck Wyatt hard as he walked backward out of the building, Evie secure in his arms. Snow swirled through the air, blurring the visibility within a few feet. Over the wind, he heard car doors opening and the roar of an engine. Baker must have double-parked the SUV close to the door. Amateur move for a supposedly professional crew. The casino security staff would have full details on the car before the crew made it to the highway.

  He tried to release Evie, determined to push her back toward the guards and the safety of the casino, but Karl, who easily had fifty pounds on Wyatt, manhandled him and then Evie into the back seat and then blocked her in.

  Wyatt started to drag her right on through the opposite door of the vehicle, but Cordell was there, gun in hand, blocking the move and watching him with a cocky grin. At this range Cordell wouldn’t miss, even with the snow. With a split-second to decide, Wyatt stayed the course, playing his role as part of the crew. The part that took the hostage.

  Deadwood 5 News

  “Joyce Adams will walk us through the latest update.”

  “Thanks, Will.” Joyce picked up the cue from behind the weather desk. “Anyone in our viewing area only needs to look outside to see Winter Storm Holly’s arrival. Some places are already reporting white-out conditions.”

  She cued up a radar view. “The National Weather Service midday update shows us right in the teeth of this storm. Snowfall will continue all da
y and well into this evening. Visibility will worsen and temperatures will drop even more tonight. When that happens, we can expect a layer of ice on top of this heavy snow.”

  Changing the map, she shared the latest snowfall measurements. “You can see these darker bands are where we’ll see the most accumulation. We are looking at breaking weather records over the next twenty-four hours.

  “Please, everyone, stay inside and stay warm. As Trooper Bob said during our morning broadcast, there is no reason to be outside or on the roads right now. Snow plows are attempting to keep up on the primary routes and even so, black ice is already a serious factor.”

  She smiled into the camera. “Thank you to everyone sending in pictures and video.” On cue, the slides cycled through. Snow blanketed trees and rooflines and it was already impossible to differentiate between sidewalks and streets. “You can see drifts forming already in some areas. I can assure you there will be plenty of time for snowmen and forts once the storm passes.”

  She switched to a map showing wind speeds and wind chill. “My recommendation? Enjoy some hot chocolate by the fire. Wait until the temperatures come up a bit tomorrow afternoon before venturing out to enjoy this white wonderland Holly leaves behind.

  “Will, back to you.”

  Chapter Six

  Evie wanted to scream and yet didn’t want to give Wyatt the satisfaction. She was caught in the back seat of an SUV, with no idea what the hell was going on. She’d been talking with Wyatt one minute and then he’d used her as a shield. Against men with guns. A howl built in her throat, fighting to break free.

  Behind them there was more shouting and she could barely make out the casino security team hesitating near the doors. The man near the front passenger door fired his gun, the horrible sound cracking through the blowing wind. She looked up, afraid of the worst, but she didn’t see blood or any sign that the bullets had hit any of the men.

  “Let me out! Let me go, please.” She hated begging, but she had to get out of here before they were off casino property. “Please, Wyatt.” The big SUV rolled forward and she scrambled to climb over him, but he pushed her back down. She kicked at the man behind her as he climbed in and closed the door, but he barely noticed.

  “So you do know each other,” the man up front said. “I thought you might.” To the driver, he gave the order to go.

  “Please let me out,” she said again.

  Wyatt was a criminal. She was trapped in a car full of criminals. She forced herself to note details of the strangers so she could give the police an accurate description whenever she got out of this. The driver, with his pale blond buzz cut, chapped cheeks, and square face reminded her of one of those cross-country skiers from Norway. Except she quickly realized he couldn’t drive in the snow. The man beside her was bulky and bigger than Wyatt. He had a pleasant, but forgettable face and his dark brown hair was short, not unlike any number of businessmen who sat down at her table for a game of poker.

  This couldn’t be happening. Of all the wicked curve balls life had thrown at her, this was the most insulting. The most inexplicable. The absurdity sank in and she fought back with all the steel she could muster. “Let me out,” she demanded, her tone flat and calm.

  Up front, the man in charge buckled his seatbelt. Twisting around, he stuck out his hand as if they were two professionals being introduced at a meeting. The gun across his lap mocked the pleasant expression on his face. “Miss Cotton, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last. Tate Cordell.”

  Tate Cordell? No. Way. “This isn’t happening,” she muttered. This man couldn’t be Tate. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe it. I didn’t expect to meet you here. Not like this. But our Wyatt is full of surprises.” Her stomach curdled at the admiration in his tone. “That was a brilliant move.”

  “Absolutely the last brilliant thing you’ll do,” she vowed under her breath. She was getting out of here, even if it meant hiking back to the casino in her heels. Frostbite was better than whatever they had planned.

  Wedged between Wyatt and the other man in the back seat, she leaned forward and batted aside the boss’s outstretched hand. “You can’t be Tate Cordell. The real Tate emailed me this morning. He’s a reputable investor currently waiting out the storm in Rapid City.”

  The man slapped the driver in the shoulder. “See, Baker, I told you it was believable.”

  “Guess I owe you twenty bucks.” Baker glanced at her in the rearview mirror, an unsavory glint in his gaze.

  “But you sent the money.”

  “You make an affordable patsy,” Tate said, as if ten grand was petty cash. “We gave ourselves a tour of your staging barn. Looks good. And your business proposal is sound. If I were legit it would’ve been a smart investment. Go ahead and keep the money. For the assist out of the casino and the general inconvenience.”

  Rattled, it took her several seconds to process his words. One of these men broke into the barn last night. This morning she’d had hope. Now she was a hostage, surrounded by criminals, and if she survived this, her business might be lost anyway. She couldn’t build up a legitimate business on a foundation of criminal funding.

  She lunged at Tate, ready to claw the smirk right off his face. The stranger to her left hauled her back. “Get your hands off me!” Before she realized his intention, he’d looped a plastic tie around her wrists and zipped it tight.

  “Is that necessary, Karl?” Wyatt asked. “Where can she go?” He wriggled around, buckling the seatbelt under her hands and over her lap.

  “Gee, thanks. Now you’re thinking of my safety?”

  “Always.”

  She glared at him, refusing to dignify that outrageous lie with any kind of response. Unable to bear looking at him, she deliberately turned her gaze to the windshield. How many mistakes could one woman make? She’d trusted Wyatt when they were kids and he’d crushed her. Yes, she’d vetted Tate Cordell as an investor and clearly been fooled by the details available online.

  The back end of the SUV shimmied as Baker took a turn too fast through the wet, compacted snow. “Do you even know how to drive in these conditions?”

  “He’s fine,” Tate barked.

  “At this rate, your driver will kill us before you can spend the cash you stole.”

  “You think I showed up for a little petty theft?” He snorted. “We just stole a fortune in diamonds, including the Mae West Solitaire.”

  Baker and Karl gave a cheer, but she noticed Wyatt’s reticence. It was hardly enough to explain or excuse his involvement here. According to the press during that era Mae West claimed the diamond was too big to wear often and too small to be cursed. At the moment, it felt pretty cursed to Evie.

  “Karl come on with the gear.” Tate snapped his fingers. “I’m cold.”

  The tires fishtailed again. The smart move was to hunker down and wait out this storm. Well, the smartest move was not to rob a casino in the first place. But since they had, they should be going south toward potentially clear roads. Baker, presumably obeying Tate’s orders, seemed determined to be winding his way north.

  “Why did you take me?” she asked Wyatt.

  “That’s enough out of you.” Tate bounced into the door as Baker skidded around a downed tree limb. “Keep her quiet,” he snarled at Wyatt.

  While Karl was doubled over the rear seat for the stash of coats and cold-weather gear, she used the distraction and the swaying vehicle, trying to unbuckle her seatbelt with her cuffed hands.

  Wyatt caught her. “Stop it, right now.” He pressed his elbow into her belly to hold her still. His blue gaze bored straight through her with laser-like intensity. Not unlike the time she’d sliced open her arm after taking a tumble on a trail. Then it had been comforting as he cleaned the wound for her. Right now, she had no idea how to reconcile that potent look with his criminal actions.

  She sucked in a sharp breath when he released her. “You won’t get away with this,” she vowed. She tried to kick his shins just on princip
le, but he caught her wrists in his hands and gripped hard. Under his grasp, the cuffs dug into her cold skin. She gasped, hating the sheen of tears that blurred her vision.

  “Behave,” he said the word soundlessly.

  It hurt more than her pride that she was caught here. She had to find a way out before they were so far out of town that she’d die of exposure if she escaped. From her vantage point, she scanned the dashboard, wincing when she saw the outside temperature was reading ten degrees below zero. Add in the wind and her odds of surviving anything more than a short walk were slim to none. She knuckled away a tear from her cheek before the men noticed.

  Tate, Karl, and Wyatt were wrestling themselves into coats, gloves and scarves, stomping into boots. More confirmation of Wyatt’s willing choice to be here.

  “Got anything in my size?” she asked Karl, just in case.

  “Let him keep you warm,” Karl said, aiming a sly look over her head to Wyatt.

  Repulsed, she shrank back into her seat. She wasn’t getting out, not yet anyway, but she couldn’t give up. She pressed her hands between her thighs, hoping her temper would keep her warm.

  Wyatt grumbled. “Come on, man. Do we have anything to keep her warm?” Without waiting for Karl to move, he unbuckled and twisted around to look for himself. Righting himself, he dragged a blanket over her lap and pulled it up, tucking it around her shoulders.

  “Thanks.” It was hard to even give him that much. It was probably smart that her hands were tied. She wanted to strangle him. She pressed her lips together to keep her teeth from chattering. The reaction was more about the nerves at this point than the cold.

  Under the blanket, she cautiously stretched her wrists against the zip tie. Did Wyatt realize he’d given her a chance to escape? Of everyone in this car, he should know she wouldn’t give up.

  Sure she was only one woman against three armed men in the middle of the worst blizzard in nearly a century. There were better odds at a roulette table.