by Black, Regan
After the call, she poured more hot chocolate and jotted down notes on the hotel stationery, reworking her priorities for the reward money based on her father’s surprising turnaround. She couldn’t wait to tell Wyatt about the snow party plans.
Even with this event stirring ideas for many more, she could happily leave Deadwood if that’s what Wyatt needed. But now she wondered if maybe it would be better for him to stay here and reclaim his place as a hometown kid who’d done well despite a rough start.
How crazy that so much had changed in a matter of days, opening up doors her mind and heart had slammed shut. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d had so many options. Unless Wyatt didn’t want her after all.
She cut off that unsettling thought in a hurry. That was fear talking. Fear that the high of surviving Cordell and reconnecting with Wyatt wouldn’t last. Experience had proven to her time and again that it was possible to love someone, to care so deeply about their happiness, and still make choices that severed those ties rather than strengthen them.
Her recent communication challenges with her father and the mistakes Wyatt had made at eighteen were more evidence. No, they weren’t eighteen anymore, but she couldn’t expect a new relationship to be perfect. Love was work at any age. It had to be a choice. Having made her choice, it was going to be difficult not to push Wyatt into a choice that aligned with hers. But unless he came around on his own, it would never work.
A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts and she hurried to answer. Anything to stop over-analyzing every random thought that popped into her head. Putting her eye to the peephole, her heart danced to see Wyatt and sank when she noticed Agent Pickering was with him.
Her stomach twisted with worry as she opened the door. “Come in,” she said, brazening through the fact that she was still in the cushy robe. When he’d said he’d come to her as soon as he could, she thought he’d meant alone.
Whatever they’d been doing, Wyatt had cleaned up and changed clothes. He looked handsome in dark blue jeans and topped with a button-down shirt and a Silver Aces zip-up jacket. His smile sent a tingle through her system. Yeah, she really should’ve dressed.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “Just too lazy to dress yet.” She tilted her head and grinned. “Did you just buy the outfit displayed on the mannequin downstairs?”
His smile lit up his gorgeous eyes. “Pretty much.” He plucked at the jacket zipper. “Or rather the FBI did. The casino confiscated everything in my room after the robbery, so…”
She started toward the phone. “They should have returned all that by now.”
“The casino is handling it,” Pickering said. “We’ve cleared up his role in the incident.”
Incident. What a weak word for what Cordell had put them through.
“We need to tie up a few loose ends and he wouldn’t leave without talking to you first,” Pickering said. “Is this hot chocolate?” She sniffed at the carafe.
“Help yourself.” Evie couldn’t tear her gaze away from Wyatt. “Loose ends?” That must mean the team waiting for Tate and the others at the ghost town. She wrapped her arms tight around her middle while she waited for him to confirm her worst fears. They were both well aware that the roads in and out wouldn’t be clear. They were asking him to risk too much, too soon.
“Are you even warm yet?” She couldn’t hide her worry.
“I’m fine.”
His gentle expression forced her to take a step back. She wasn’t used to anyone reading her so easily. It was almost as if nothing had changed despite all the years between them. He caught her by the elbow and gently drew her a few paces from Pickering. His touch familiar, comforting.
“Evie,” he said softly. “It’ll be all right.”
“I know.” Of course, it would be all right. Cordell’s escape team was waiting in a dilapidated collection of deserted and condemned buildings. How hard could it be to round them up?
“Cordell is cooperating,” Wyatt said. “They both say Karl killed Stan,” he added quietly.
Of course, he’d remembered how much she wanted justice for her friend. “Do you believe them?”
“Yes. The stories line up and frankly, they’re too exhausted to lie well.” His gaze drifted to Pickering. “I should get going.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Cordell’s getaway guys are sitting ducks. The FBI and the sheriff’s team will be doing the hard work,” he assured her. “I’m just guiding them in to take down a couple of city boys who probably can’t handle their four-wheel drive out here. We can’t lose.”
City boys armed with guns and radios if they worked with Cordell. “They must have heard by now that the robbery failed.”
“Probably,” he admitted. “The sheriff parked a team of deputies on the access road, but they can’t take down this team alone.”
Her hands went cold and her heart stuttered as worry washed over her. It wasn’t her place to fuss over him. They were friends. Friends who had shared a few kisses and confessions and no guarantees. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about the future, about what a new relationship might look like.
“Evie.” He ran his fingertips along the rolled collar of her robe, not quite touching her skin. “I’ll be back in a few hours. It’ll give you time to get dressed.”
She laughed, but her cheeks went hot. Hotter still when Pickering cleared her throat.
“Wait up for me,” he said. “I’ll bring up champagne to celebrate.”
Did that mean what she wanted it to mean?
“Jameson, we need to get moving,” Pickering said.
“Give me another minute,” he said.
Everything inside her rebelled at the idea of him leaving Deadwood. Irrational but true. A small voice in her head refused to accept he was only heading a few miles north. “Why now? The roads aren’t clear,” she protested. And why were the authorities so eager to move now when they refused to leave the hotel when Wyatt needed them most?
“They won’t wait forever. Cordell convinced them he’d be there before midnight. I’m not going in on my own. I’m just a guide,” he repeated. “The take down is a cooperative effort between the sheriff and the FBI. But we have to move now.”
It was more dangerous than ever. She chewed on her lip so her concerns couldn’t spill out. From the corner of her eye she caught Pickering edging toward the door.
“Jameson,” the agent said, “Clock’s ticking.”
“You’d better go.” Did she dare kiss him?
He bent his head and caught her lips in a soft kiss full of promises. A kiss that erased all her doubts. When he eased back, she pressed her fingers to her lips, holding the sensation close.
“I wanted to talk,” he said backing away.
That was laughable. “You did not.” She crossed her arms over her chest, so her heart wouldn’t go flying after him. He said he was coming back. He kissed her like he was coming back. “We will talk, though,” she warned.
“I can’t wait,” he said. His wild grin had only become more irresistible with time. “Your snow day is already a hit. I’ll make sure the press is here.”
She didn’t want to know how he’d manage that. “Be safe. And be smart.” She glared past him to Pickering. “I mean it. If you let anything happen to him, you’ll answer to me.”
“Evie.” He rushed across the room and kissed her again. “You’re the best. I love you.”
Her heart cracked and hope overloaded her system. He meant it. Love glowed in his beautiful blue eyes. She reached deep for one last scrap of courage and realized it was the easiest thing in the world to give him the words that had been carved on her heart years ago. “I love you too.” Always. “I never stopped loving you either.”
“I knew it.” He cradled her face. “Give us a minute,” he said to Pickering, his eyes still locked on Evie.
The door opened and closed.
She pressed up on her toes and kissed him, willing all of her heat into
him to keep him warm during his next trek through the snow. “Don’t you dare get hurt.”
“What kind of husband and business partner would that make me?”
She stared up at him. “That doesn’t count. When you decide to propose for real, you have to do better.”
“Fair enough. I’m not waiting another minute.” He dropped to one knee and pulled a small box out of his pocket, holding it up. “This is real. You’re my best friend, Evelyn Cotton. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. I don’t want to spend another hour without you in my life.” He opened the box and a stunning, marquis-cut diamond blazed in a cushion of black velvet. “Please make me the happiest man on earth and let me be your husband. By your side, whatever you need, wherever life takes us, no matter how gnarly the trail. Let me be with you forever.”
“Oh, Wyatt. Yes. You’ve always had my heart. Yes to forever with you, wherever we are. Whatever we do.” Her knees gave out and she sat down right there on the floor. He slipped the ring onto her finger and she peppered his face with kisses.
Forever had never felt so sweet. “Hurry back,” she said as he helped her to her feet once more. She extended her hand, admiring the way the ring sat on her finger and caught the light, straightening it when the loose band slipped.
“Get dressed,” he said with that wicked grin. “The jeweler is waiting to size it for you. I’ll send up champagne.”
She smiled. “The champagne and I will be right here, waiting to welcome you back.”
When he walked out Evie did a happy pirouette, thrilled not just about what tonight held, but the bright potential in tomorrow and every day to come.
Deadwood 5 News
“And now out to Joyce Adams with a weather update on location today. That looks like quite an undertaking behind you.”
“You’re right about that, Will.” Joyce smiled into the camera. “Although we need to be mindful of the windchill and the reflection off the snow out here, it is wonderful to see the sun shining at last. Winter Storm Holly is marching on toward Minnesota and left us with a blanket of wintery sparkle all over town.”
She stepped closer to a cluster of people, red-cheeked and beaming, as a large group of kids worked on a snow fort behind them. “This is Evelyn Cotton and her father Dale of Cottonwood Adventures. They’re joined by Wyatt Jameson, Sheriff Russell, and Sarah and Jack, managers of the Silver Aces Casino. Evelyn, can you tell us a bit about what’s happening here?”
“Sure. Since schools and most businesses are closed again today, Cottonwood Adventures and the Silver Aces teamed up to host an impromptu snow day celebration.”
“How did you get such a big turnout?” Joyce asked.
Evelyn glanced at the others and grinned. “Between the sheriff’s department, social media, and some travelers stranded at the casino with cabin fever, word got around quickly. Everyone was eager to come out and make the best of the situation.”
“It has been a difficult couple of days,” Joyce agreed. Her face was freezing, but she wanted to get in on the fun before heading back to the studio. “And Wyatt Jameson. Don’t tell me our hometown hero is one of those stranded travelers?”
“Not exactly. I did choose the wrong week for my first visit back to Deadwood,” he admitted. “But now that I’m retired from the Army, I plan on staying right here.”
“You used to work with Cottonwood Adventures, am I right?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Back when Evelyn and I were in high school. I’m pleased to be a part of their new expansion plans.”
“Maybe this snow party will give the people of Minnesota something to look forward to as they brace for Holly.” Joyce turned to Evelyn and Dale and let them plug their business, before getting comments from a few of the kids and adults enjoying the snow party.
“Will, I might take the rest of the day off to play.” Joyce handed off her microphone and fell backward into a sparkling-white snow drift to make a snow angel.
At the desk, the evening anchorman laughed at her antics. “You’ve definitely earned it, Joyce. Thank you.”*
* * *
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this book, please do leave a review.
Read on for a sneak peek of the next STORMWATCH novel, Snow Brides by Peggy Webb.
Sneak Peek
SNOW BRIDES
STORMWATCH, Book 5
by Peggy Webb
Copyright © 2019 by Peggy Webb
* * *
As Stanley Weathers faced the Channel 9 cameras he adjusted his tie and chafed at the latest ribbing he’d taken about his name. It had come from the new hire, some underling in the bowels of the TV station who obviously thought Stan had never heard anybody say, “A weatherman named Weathers? Did you make that up?”
When he got home he’d tell his wife Jean about it, and she’d find a way to make him laugh. If he got home. The snowstorm coming their way was a monster beyond anything he’d ever witnessed. He was going to have a hard time maintaining a cool professionalism during the weather report.
“Stan,” the cameraman said. “You’re on in two.”
He put on his stage smile and faced the cameras.
“Holly is her name, and she’s unlike any snowstorm we’ve ever seen.” He gestured to the weather map behind him, tracking the storm as he talked. “The blizzard that has held the Northwest in its grip since December 12 is sweeping toward Minnesota. This killer storm has left a path of destruction across Montana, Colorado, Nebraska and South Dakota.”
The death toll rose in his mind, and he paused, hoping his TV audience would perceive it as a planned break from his dramatic spiel. Stan was relieved the number of fatalities would be part of the news report, not the weather.
“Expect the blizzard to be one of the worst in the history of Minnesota with snow drifts as high as thirty feet. The mega-monster storm is on a path to hit Grand Marsais at 2:00 p.m. on December 23 and could last up to three days.”
There went the big family Christmas. That was the only good thing Stan could say about the storm. Jean had already called to say her parents had sent a text from Atlanta that their flight had been cancelled. He would have enjoyed seeing them, but he couldn’t say the same thing about Jean’s obnoxious, know-it-all twin sister Joan and her two teenaged brats who were traveling with them.
“Residents are urged to cancel holiday travel plans,” he told his TV audience. “Our team here at TV 9 News in Grand Marsais is standing by to bring you a list of airport closings. As always, Stan the Weatherman will be here at the station bringing you regular updates on Holly. Until then, stay off the roads. Be smart. Be safe.”
* * *
Chapter 1
December 23
4:00 a.m.
“I should have picked her up.”
Joe left his vigil at the window that showed nothing except the distant shape of Carter’s Trading Post and the ghostly outlines of security lights that seemed to float above the water in the snow mists swirling through the darkness. A heavy blanket of snow had fallen on Grand Marsais during the night and the temperature had already dropped below zero, both precursors of the blizzard predicted to hit in early afternoon.
Maggie’s big chocolate Labrador retriever lifted his head at her husband’s uncharacteristic display of nerves then left his pillow by the fire and padded to lean against Joe’s leg.
It was uncanny, Jefferson’s ability to sense the emotional terrain of his family. Though Maggie shouldn’t have been surprised. The four-year-old search and rescue dog had displayed extraordinary intelligence from the moment Maggie started working with him. Even better, he had more heart than any dog she’d ever handled.
He was feeling their pain.
Their daughter Kate was missing, and had been since yesterday afternoon.
“You should have let me go after her,” Joe added as he sank onto the sofa, his face etched with worry and defeat.
The worry, Maggie shared, but if she let herself dwell on Joe’s sense of defeat and the many
reasons why, she wouldn’t have the strength to get through this long vigil for her daughter.
“Don’t start, Joe.”
Hadn’t Maggie told herself the same thing a thousand times during the last sixteen hours? Kate, a freshman at the University of Minnesota in Duluth, reveled in her newfound freedom and had scoffed at the idea she couldn’t drive a hundred miles north for the holidays.
“Mom!” Even on the phone Kate’s most exasperated, longsuffering daughter tone had been evident. “I’ll be home long before this so-called monster storm hits.”
“You be careful. And start early. Don’t wait till the last minute.”
“I’m loading the car now. You worry too much, Mom.”
That had been nine o’clock yesterday morning. During normal winter conditions snowplows kept the roads between Grand Marsais and Duluth clean. That far in advance of the storm, Kate should have been home before noon, even in holiday traffic.
To make the nightmare even worse, her GPS tracker showed she’d veered far off course. Maggie had been flabbergasted when her daughter’s GPS put her in Chicago. And the last time she’d checked, Kate was in Detroit and moving northeast.
A thousand horrors played through Maggie’s mind--her daughter skidding off the road and landing in a spot hidden from highway traffic then picked up by a predator who could do anything. Haul Kate out of the country or easily vanish into nearly four million acres of wilderness known as the Superior National Forest. The idea of her daughter in the hands of a predator struck terror to Maggie’s soul.
“Don’t go there.” The sound of her own voice calmed her a bit, but her mind still spun in all directions.
What if Kate had arranged to meet someone, a guy her parents didn’t know, someone she’d met online? It happened all the time, vulnerable young girls with bleeding hearts falling for a sob story only to be lured off then led like lambs to the slaughter.
