by Black, Regan
Even if she had the gear to climb back up to the road, it wasn’t as if she could count on help from a passing driver. Everyone with sense was hunkered down and waiting out the storm. Tate’s worries about being chased had been completely unfounded. The sheriff was too smart to put his deputies in danger on these roads. Probably the only thing that had worked in his favor during the robbery.
And none of that got her out of here. She could follow Wyatt with relative ease and interfere with their getaway. They were headed north to Garden City, the famous mining ghost town. Not that it made any sense to stick with that plan in this weather.
Be smart, she repeated to herself. She’d always found it baffling the way her father trusted her to be smart in the field and not in the business office. On a groan, she stamped her feet in the boots to give her feet a jolt. Maybe she should take Karl’s pants too. The thought made her cringe, but her thin uniform pants were no match for this weather.
When she was bundled up again, the hood covering as much of her face as possible, she forced herself to be logical. Leaving the SUV meant wandering through a blizzard that blurred the landmarks. Getting turned around was a real danger.
She briefly considered setting the SUV on fire. It would be a ginormous equivalent of a flare, but again, no one else was out here to see it. Watching the wind shape the snow into drifts around the wrecked vehicle, she knew she had to leave. If she tried to use the SUV for shelter, she’d be swallowed by the storm within a few hours. No one would find her until the spring thaw.
She thought of Wyatt insisting she take Karl’s gear. The way he stepped in front of that revolver. Remembered the intensity in his gaze as they fell off the road. And his apology, the words she wasn’t even sure she’d heard, echoed in her mind.
He was sorry. For leaving her in Deadwood eleven years ago, or coming back just to leave her again—in the worst snowstorm in a century? It didn’t matter at this point. There was more to this situation, more to him, than what she could see on the surface. However he was tied to Tate Cordell, she didn’t believe it was simple.
Wyatt was not a criminal. As much as she wanted to cling to that excuse to hate him, she had other reasons. And every last one of them felt petty and small right now.
Which meant she couldn’t leave him out in this mess alone with armed men determined to get away with a serious crime. She started to trudge after them, keeping her steps in line with theirs, though Holly was doing her best to erase the trail.
There were a few tourism properties and hunting cabins on this side of the road that could be used for shelter. The closest one she could think of was an abandoned miner’s cabin. Could Wyatt plan to wait out the storm there? If she was going to help him, she had to remember his habits, choices and strengths.
At one time, they’d been the closest of friends. Inseparable. Able to anticipate thoughts and decisions, practically finishing each other's sentences. She’d helped him wallow or ignore his mother’s antics as her gambling addiction demolished everything around him. He’d helped her dream up ways to build an adventuring business, the only thing she’d ever wanted to do.
How much of her predicament was her fault? She’d told him she wanted him to do whatever he was here to do. He’d asked her to ride out the storm at home. Looked like she was the one breaking promises this time.
As epiphanies went, it would’ve been more comfortable having this one around a roaring fire with thick socks on her feet and her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
She kept moving forward while her mind wandered. She pushed aside thoughts of the past. Old pain and anger weren’t the way to focus. Instead, she imagined Tate and Baker in handcuffs. Not that she had any. She was a poker-dealing adventure guide, not law enforcement. And she’d be neither if this storm had its way.
She added Sheriff Russell to her fantasy, heard his mellow voice reading the men their rights before commending Wyatt for his brave undercover work. Yeah, that was a much better scenario than thinking of him as a criminal.
Within minutes, both layers of pants were soaked through and the cold, wet fabric sapped her body heat. Resting one hand on the nearest tree for balance, she glanced back over her shoulder. Blowing snow was all she could see in any direction. She used the tree to pull herself forward. One step at a time. The bitter cold and low visibility couldn’t matter.
She would outsmart this storm and help Wyatt survive. That was the only way to get the answers and explanations she’d wanted for eleven years.
* * *
Using the ridge as a guide, Wyatt continued moving to the north as fast as he could manage. His leg raged at him, protesting with every step. He resented every polar-fleece, sub-zero outerwear manufacturer that made life easier on Cordell and Baker. The men weren’t quitting. They were barely slowing him down. Maybe he’d underestimated the incentive of millions of dollars in diamonds.
It sure wasn’t an easy way to make money.
If he couldn’t lose the men and circle back to Evie soon, she’d be in big trouble. That was not an acceptable outcome. The constant howl of the wind made normal conversation impossible, a definite bonus considering the way Cordell’s voice grated on his nerves. Cell phones were useless and Cordell believed a radio would reveal their position to the police.
And the snow just kept piling up.
Other than the occasional stumble, neither of the men showed any sign of giving in. Great. At this point he didn’t care if the diamonds were lost or if the FBI put him out of business for not delivering the robbery crew as promised.
As if he had any say in the weather or a madman who’d exposed them to this extreme danger. He leaned into another surge of snow and wind. When the gust was done, he glanced back, seeing Cordell and Baker huddled together.
Plotting his demise probably. Fools. They’d never get out of here without a guide in this weather. “Let’s go!” he shouted just to see what they’d do.
Both men were impossible to read through the layers of outerwear, but Wyatt was sure the gun was in Cordell’s hand. Whether or not he could fire it accurately was the question.
“We need shelter,” Cordell shouted, loping awkwardly toward him.
Evie needed shelter, Wyatt thought darkly. These two needed a jail cell. “That’s the plan,” he hollered back.
“Baker was hurt in the crash.” Cordell said. “He can’t go much longer.”
It was the first good news Wyatt had heard in hours. Days, really. “How bad?” he asked, moving back through his tracks to where Baker was propped against a tree.
“Ribs maybe? I’m no doctor,” Cordell said. “Do something. He’s breathing weird.”
They were all breathing weird in this nasty wind and snow. Under the scarf Baker was pale. His breathing was shallow and jerky. Pained. Definitely ribs. “Can’t help him out here,” Wyatt said. He didn’t bother mentioning the many rugged miles between them and the rendezvous.
“Obviously,” Cordell snarled. “Give me solutions.”
Wyatt mentally cussed out Cordell, the weather-phobic FBI, his gambling-addict mother and the world at large for bringing him to this moment of pure insanity. They had yet to find an abandoned mine shaft.
Yes, he believed in taking ownership of decisions and choices. Yes, he’d left Deadwood to make something of himself in the military. And he had, only to trash it all by returning to town with a band of thieves.
He cringed, thinking of how the robbery must look to the Silver Aces security team. The many surveillance camera angles would show the hometown military hero kidnap Evie while helping the crew escape.
If the FBI didn’t clear that up with a very public statement, he was screwed, his new career up in smoke. Or buried in snow. Either way it was over. Evie had to survive. Had to. His soul would shatter if she didn’t. Of course if she survived he had no doubt she’d gleefully testify against him if there was a trial.
He caught the tail of his scattering thoughts. This must be his brain with f
rostbite. “The only chance he has is to keep going. There’s a mining museum up ahead, and we might find a hunting cabin before that.”
Cordell didn’t look pleased, but unless he wanted to build an igloo or had a pop-up tent in his pocket, the only choice was to press on.
A wild screech sliced through the air before a gust caught the sound and carried it away. It sounded remarkably like Evie’s screech owl impersonation. She’d mastered it to amuse young campers and impress skeptical adults on various summer tours.
Fantastic. Now he was hearing things. There was no chance any animal, especially not a small bird, was out in this weather. Finding shelter became more important, regardless of whether or not it helped Baker.
Two short screeches sounded again as he guided them north, Baker supported between them.
“What is that?” Cordell asked.
“Nature,” Wyatt replied. That was definitely Evie. He didn’t know if he should be relieved or irritated.
The more intriguing question was how she’d gotten so close. When the sound cut through the wind again, he thought she might actually be ahead of them. He kept walking as if it was perfectly normal for an owl to be hunting in the middle of an afternoon blizzard.
“You’re lost, aren’t you?” Cordell accused as they all paused to catch their breath.
“I’m not.” Wyatt pointed toward the wall of snow-covered trees ahead of them. “Can’t you see the road?”
Cordell shoved him. “Quit messing with me.”
Wyatt, drained mentally and physically, fell into the snow. It was damn tempting to stay put and let the weather have its way. But Evie was close. That was a miracle he couldn’t ignore. He hauled himself back to his feet just as Baker groaned and doubled over. “The road is behind the trees. Look at the spacing.”
Cordell peered ahead, snow coating his eyebrows and eyelashes. “Does that mean we’re close?”
Wyatt nodded. “On the other side of this next curve is the road to the mining museum.” He didn’t tell them it would be at least another mile on that road. We can wait out the weather there.” For all the good it would do. They would get snowed in and miss their escape driver waiting at the ghost town.
On top of that, the power would surely be out, and they’d have to break in. Which meant compromising the shelter. But it was better than nothing. If he could keep them there long enough, the FBI could follow the GPS signal and scoop them up the moment the weather cleared.
“Let’s move,” Baker said, shuffling ahead, carving a path in the wet snow. “I can’t feel my face.” In a normal storm, that path might’ve helped the authorities. In this weather, there was no chance the trail would last long enough.
“Me either,” Wyatt agreed, taking the easier trail directly in Baker’s wake.
The screech sounded, this time much closer. A gunshot followed. He turned in time to see Cordell struggling to pull the trigger again.
Wyatt dropped low and skidded into the man’s legs like a big league hitter stealing home. Cordell went down, howling in pain.
Wyatt ran, aiming for the last place he’d heard Evie’s screech owl. His legs were heavy, his cold, wet clothing making the task harder still. It felt like running in a nightmare, when every fiber of his being urged him to move faster and his body wouldn’t cooperate.
Cordell fired another shot and the bullet bit into a tree to Wyatt’s left. He veered away from the shower of snow and bark. Spotting Evie gave him a much needed jolt of adrenaline.
She tugged him down into a hollow created by a fallen tree and the thick blanket of snow. It wasn’t exactly a secure hideout since his track through the snow would be obvious for a little while, but he didn’t hear anyone shouting or tramping behind him.
“Evie.” The break from the blowing wind was almost as wonderful as seeing her. “How did you get ahead of us?” And how much had the weather compromised his judgment if he hadn’t noticed her so close?
“You didn’t think I’d sit around waiting at the SUV.”
“Well, no,” he admitted. What would she do if he kissed her? She’d most likely punch him. Regret followed in the wake of relief. After all of this, she might never let him touch her properly again. “I expected you to head back to the casino.”
“You’re not a criminal.”
She’d spoken with such intense bitterness, he laughed. “And that annoys you.”
“It does.” Abruptly, she pressed a bulky glove-covered hand to his mouth and cocked her head, listening. Her touch, such as it was, sent another jolt through him. He didn’t hear anything but wind-driven snow and the creak of tree limbs bending under the heavy weight.
When she scooted back into the shadows of their hideout he missed that brief contact desperately. “We can’t sit here and wait to be shot,” he whispered.
“We shouldn’t jump out into an ambush either.” She pressed her gloved hands to her face. “He isn’t built for this weather and he doesn’t know his way around the area.”
“Cordell’s greed and worry over Baker will trump hunting us down.”
“Let’s hope,” she said.
“I thought they’d drop long before now,” he said. “Baker’s injured. I told them we could shelter at the mining museum.”
“Without you they don’t stand a chance,” she said. “Come over here and we’ll stay warm while we wait a bit.”
It was the sweetest invitation he’d ever heard. He wedged himself next to her, their combined body heat easing the sting of cold in his fingers and toes. “I’m not a criminal,” he blurted. “Never was. I’m working undercover for the FBI.”
She wrapped her arms around her knees, her gaze a little sad. “You could’ve said something.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I wanted to tell you the second I saw you.”
“You could’ve told me when I stopped by your hotel room,” she pointed out.
His lack of trust hurt her feelings. It should’ve made him sad, instead he was recharged, hopeful that she felt that connection between them coming back to life. “The FBI was listening. Once Cordell reached out to you, they were watching you, too. I couldn’t take the chance and blow everything. You told me you’d stay home.”
“And if I had you’d be out here alone.”
Her eyes flashed and he braced for the punch she would’ve thrown at his shoulder or his nose if they were younger. He deserved that and much, much more.
“Why?” she asked.
He didn’t need her to clarify. “The FBI promised me a hefty payout if I could lead the crew into their net. I needed the capital and connections to start my own business.”
“What business? You should have years left in the army. Is being a trail guide for thieves a viable career?”
He rolled his eyes. Cautiously, he took her hand and pulled off the borrowed glove. Then he placed her hand low on his leg where his calf muscle had once been. “The Army says I’m not good enough to serve anymore.”
“Well, they’re stupid.”
He smiled; his ego puffed up. He could always count on Evie to be on his side. “After burning my bridges here, I started a business as a private investigator out in Sioux Falls.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and pressed her lips together, ducking her chin into the collar of her coat. He could only see her eyes and the accusation and hurt was clear even in the shadows, but she didn’t release his hand.
“No, I never planned to come back to Deadwood,” he said, answering the unspoken question.
“But—”
“We were kids,” he said softly. “Worse, I was the kid from that family. No one trusted my mom. No one trusted me not to turn into her.”
“I did,” she insisted. “We were supposed to make something of Cottonwood Adventures.”
The sadness in her voice wrecked him. “I know. I’m sorry, Evie.” He’d thought leaving had been hard. Sitting here, facing down her lost trust and shattered faith in him was worse. He tucked her hand back into the warm glove. �
��I thought I was doing the right thing, going out to make something of myself.”
To his amazement, she moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder. “I was too hurt, too young to understand that at the time.”
“And I was too self-absorbed to consider how my choices might hurt you.” He was afraid to move, afraid that any shift would break the spell and this would all be a strange snow-induced mirage. “Evie, you were indestructible.”
“Today would prove I still am.”
“True.” But it had been a close call and pure terror for him from the robbery to the SUV crashing down the hill. “In my mind, your plans and dreams were a given, with or without me around. What happened?”
“Life lessons. Business lessons.” He felt her shrug. “Who knows? Our first hires to replace you were less than ideal and Dad lost patience. Lost interest day by day after mom died. He refuses to expand, insists I go find something meaningful to do with my life.”
That surprised him. Dale Cotton had always been a source of common sense and wisdom. Then again, losing Evie would wreck him as losing his wife must have wrecked Dale.
“Cottonwood Adventures is meaningful.” He couldn’t see her doing anything else. “It’s your purpose.”
She gave a snort and a puff of vapor clouded between them. “A shame you’re the only man in my life who ever noticed that.” They cuddled in the quiet, not exactly warm but no longer freezing. The wind eased up and the fat snowflakes were falling straight to the ground rather than blowing horizontally across the opening of their small shelter.
“Cordell isn’t this patient,” he said after a few more minutes. “He would’ve followed my trail and barged in leading with bullets by now.”
“Then let’s move.” She sat up and rubbed her hands up and down her thighs.
“Are those Karl’s pants?” he asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She adjusted the collar and hood around her face. “If you sent them to the museum, we can make it to the Greenbriar Goldrush site. It isn’t too far. We can wait there for the worst of this to pass.”
