Snowed In

by Cassie Miles

  “What if I don’t want to leave?”

  “Don’t tease me, Blake. It’s not funny.”

  “I’m not laughing.” He saw a shimmer in her eyes. Tears? “Don’t cry, princess. I like you.”

  She held his face in her hands and kissed him with a raw, passionate desire. Her tongue penetrated his mouth and tangled with his. When she pulled away, she caught his lower lip between her teeth and gave a tug.

  “That’s how I feel about you,” she whispered. “I can’t put it in words. I don’t know what to say. Everything has happened so fast, and I’m scared.”

  Her vulnerability touched him. It had taken a lot for her to admit her fear. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “But you’re leaving on Sunday.”

  “I can adjust my schedule,” he said. “I want to stay with you, at least for a couple of weeks.”

  With a sigh, she melted into his arms. Her soft curves fit so perfectly against him that she could have been created only for him. He had a strong feeling that two more weeks with her wasn’t going to be enough.

  The door from the upstairs opened. Alvardo called down, “Is Sarah down there?”

  “I’m here,” she answered without moving away from Blake.

  “We have a problem,” Alvardo said. “The computer modem doesn’t work. Your landline phones are dead.”

  “It happens,” she said. “The snow weighs down the lines and they break.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Wait it out.” She tilted her head back and looked up at Blake. “I guess that makes it official. We’re snowed in.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  As far as Sarah was concerned, having the phone lines go down was an inconvenience they could live with for a few days. But a couple of her guests—Alvardo and Skip—had worked themselves into a near panic and insisted on an emergency meeting before lunch. Everyone, including Ollie and the Dewdrops, gathered around the dining room table.

  “No computer, no Wi-Fi, no phone line,” Skip said. You would have thought his lifelines had been cut and he’d been cast adrift. “How are we supposed to do business?”

  “You’re not,” Blake said. “It’s noon on Friday, and you’re leaving on Sunday. Business will have to wait until then.”

  “It’s like the good old days,” Hank said as he leaned back in his chair and took his wife’s hand. “Most of our conversations were face-to-face. You didn’t have to limit your word count. And you could see how someone reacted.”

  “The old ways were better,” the general said. “I don’t mind living without computers at all.”

  “Finally,” Rebecca said, “there’s something we can agree on.”

  Alvardo cast a dark look toward Sarah. “Is there any way to repair the landline?”

  “Sorry,” she said. “If the line is down, the phone company will have to come out to repair it. That won’t be happening with the blizzard.”

  Outside, the snow was accumulating inch by inch. She was worried that the caterer wouldn’t be able to get through, and she’d have to figure out how to feed everybody from her stores in the pantry. At least they had the cake and the flowers.

  Alvardo wasn’t about to give up. “What about the satellite phone?”

  Blake held up his phone for illustration. “Reception has been spotty all day. Right now, I’ve got no signal at all.”

  “How can that be?” Skip rose from the table and waved his hands. “Aren’t those things supposed to work in the Arctic? Aren’t they infallible?”

  “They’re pretty damn good,” Blake said. “There might be a problem with the terminal I placed outside. I suppose I could take a hike and check it out.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Skip said.

  “I’d rather you keep working with the snowblower,” Sarah said. “You and Hank are doing a great job, and I really need to keep the area around the kitchen cleared for the caterer.”

  Rebecca spoke for her husband. “Sorry, Sarah, Hank has made his last pass with the snowblower. He’s been having fun with it, but he’s pooped. We’re California people.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “I’m not tired.”

  “Sweetheart, it makes me exhausted just to look at you. Sarah, is there anything else we can do to be helpful?”

  Her greatest concern was the power lines. If they lost electricity, it was going to be seriously inconvenient. She had an emergency generator, but it hadn’t been used in years. Depending on the generator meant they’d have to cut down on electricity use—limiting hot water for showers and closing off some of the rooms. Later this afternoon, she’d make sure there were working flashlights in all the bedrooms.

  She studied the array of worried faces around the dining room table. There was no point in bringing up a problem that might never happen. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  One of Ollie’s Dewdrops made a suggestion. “We could bring our instruments down here and have a mini-concert.”

  “That would be lovely,” Emily said as she rose to her feet. “After lunch we could play board games.”

  When Rebecca looked up at her daughter and grinned, the family resemblance was evident. Not so much in the physical sense, but Sarah could see where Emily got her boundless optimism.

  “I like a good board game,” the general said, “especially that one where you take over the world.”

  “How about a game of chess?” Hank asked.

  “You’re on, Senator.”

  “I should warn you,” Hank said. “I was on the chess team at Stanford.”

  “I beat the secretary of the navy. Strategy is my game.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Sarah pushed away from the table. “Lunch will be in half an hour.”

  In the kitchen, she saw Carrie unlocking the door for Slim Martinez, the caterer. Unlike his name, Slim was a big man in every sense of the word. His voice boomed, “The roads, Dios mio, the roads are hell. We almost crashed.”

  “It’s true,” said his assistant who was also his son, Ramon. “It’s ice under the snow.”

  “Should have let me drive,” said the second assistant, Slim’s daughter, Marisol.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” Sarah clasped Marisol’s hands. She and her brother were well-trained in the kitchen and incredibly good-looking. Both had long, shining black hair pulled back in a ponytail at the nape. Both were slender and graceful, which was only one of the reasons why Slim Martinez Catering was in high demand. His food was to die for.

  “The roads,” Slim wailed again. He burst forth with a rapid-fire stream of Spanish. Sarah could pick out only every third word, but Blake was able to answer Slim and ask questions.

  “Papa,” Marisol chided. “In English.”

  “Muy malo,” Slim said. “It’s snowing like hell.”

  Sarah had suspected as much. Not only was the snow coming faster but the winds had picked up. The local guy who did the snow plowing had made his last run about an hour ago, and his work was almost erased. No matter what happened, loading her guests into trucks and vans and attempting the drive to a hotel in Aspen was out of the question. They were stuck here for the duration of the blizzard.

  * * *

  GROWING UP IN WISCONSIN, Blake was accustomed to cold and snow. He’d skied, he’d snowboarded and he’d tasted his first beer on a daylong ice fishing expedition with his dad. When he left the B and B with Sarah after lunch to check the spot where he’d placed the terminal for the satellite phone, he was dressed for subzero temperatures. And he was armed.

  His handgun was inside his parka, and he had a rifle attached with a sling across his chest. Through snow goggles, he scanned the forest surrounding the B and B. His camera surveillance was pretty much worthless in the storm, but he doubted anyone would a
ttack during the blizzard. Just in case, he’d stationed the twins and Maddox—who was turning out to be a much more useful soldier than Alvardo—in vantage points to keep watch. And they had plenty of other people who could take up arms.

  Under the eaves at the south end of the B and B, Sarah stood beside him. Though the wind was blowing from the north, the snow had drifted halfway up to the window ledges. In her parka with the hood pulled up and snow goggles in place, she was so covered up that only a glimpse of her face was visible.

  “I’m glad Carrie and her friend left,” she said. “Within the hour, the road coming down to the B and B is going to be impassable.”

  “We’ve got everybody here who needs to be here.”

  “Not quite,” she said. “We’re missing the justice of the peace.”

  “I can do the ceremony,” he said.

  “You?”

  “I got one of those online certifications when I was in Afghanistan. One of the guys in my squad wanted to get married, and I did the ceremony on Skype. Apart from the kissing the bride part, it was kind of romantic.”

  “You’re kind of romantic,” she said.

  Being sentimental didn’t fit with his image as a ranger, but he knew it was true. Not that he cried at chick flicks or got all goopy about birthdays and such. But he loved a happy ending. After one particularly bloody debriefing, the army shrink told him that he’d seen too much sorrow, pain and tragedy. Blake needed to believe that things would turn out all right in the end.

  Like with Sarah.

  He was glad that she’d volunteered to come with him. She was the obvious choice since she knew her way around these hills better than anyone else, but she could have refused. Last night, she’d been the beautiful, pampered princess. Today, she was practical Sarah slogging through the blizzard.

  “Which way do we go?” she asked.

  “I wanted to set the terminal as high as possible.” He pointed. “Up that slope and into the trees.”

  “Couldn’t you just put it on the roof?”

  “The B and B is tucked away in the trees. I wanted a clear view.”

  He led the way, crossing an open area through snow that was nearly up to his knees while she walked in his tracks. The wind from the north drove the snow nearly horizontal, straight into his face. The parka, gloves and cap kept him warm enough, but he could feel moisture seeping into his jeans and his boots. His feet were going to be ice cubes by the time they got back to the B and B.

  When they entered the forest, the force of the storm was buffered by the trees. He looked up. Visibility was a problem, even with his snow goggles. “I wedged the terminal in the branches of a pine tree, a little higher than eye level.”

  “Plenty of trees,” she said. “Any idea which one?”

  “Up higher.” He felt her tug at his arm, and he turned toward her. “What is it?”

  “I heard something. A whining noise.”

  He listened for a moment. He heard the wind and nothing more. “Do you still hear it?”

  “I guess not.” She shook her head. “Did Kovak ever find the snowmobile that Franks used?”

  “Yeah, he did. It was a rental.” Blake clapped his hands together to get his circulation going. “It’d be handy to have a snowmobile right now.”

  “I was just thinking that we should have worn snowshoes.” She pointed to her lower legs. “Even with you going first, my snow pants are wet up to the knees.”

  “Waterproof snow pants,” he scoffed. “I’m wearing jeans.”

  She grinned. “You can handle it. You’re a big, tough ranger.”

  “No sympathy from you?”

  “Not a smidge.” She turned him around and gave his backside a shove. “Let’s hurry up and find your terminal tree. I want to get back to the house and sit by the fireplace.”

  “When we get back, I’ve got a better way to keep you warm.”

  “You wish,” she teased.

  He hiked a few paces higher on a steep hill, slipping on the icy rocks hidden beneath the snow. If he could have seen the landmark shapes of rocks and trees, he would have known where he was going. Instead, he relied on a natural sense of direction that he’d had since childhood.

  A long time ago, he’d learned that if he trusted his instincts he’d always be able to find his way. Before he left for his first deployment in the Middle East, his mom had reminded him to believe in himself and find his way home.

  He’d thought of those words many times. He’d lived by them.

  Turning to his right, he dug in the toe of his boot to go uphill. “It’s over here.”

  At the top of a ridge, the trees thinned and the wind picked up. He saw the pine tree with an outstretched branch like an arm that should have been cradling the terminal for his satellite phones. “It’s gone.”

  She stopped beside him. “Are you sure this is the right tree?”

  Reaching up, he brushed the snow off the branch. The outer bark had been broken when he wedged the terminal box into place. On the ground, he found one of the bungee cords he’d used to fasten the terminal to the tree. “It was here.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “The wind is pretty fierce up here. It might have knocked the terminal out of the tree.”

  “A nine-pound box didn’t walk away by itself.”

  His satellite phone had been sabotaged. And it wasn’t Franks who did it because Blake had used the phone this morning. Someone had gone to a hell of a lot of trouble to cut off his communications.

  That someone could be nearby, watching them through the infrared sight of a rifle. Peering through his goggles, he scanned the surrounding landscape. If there had been a sniper, he would have already taken his shot. Or would he?

  Blake bent from the waist, brushing the snow from his parka, and studied the ground for footprints or tracks. Sarah did the same. Though the wind and snow had likely erased any sign of what had happened, he kept looking.

  She walked downhill, studying the ground. “Over here, it looks like something flat was pushed through the snow.”

  “Like the terminal,” he said.

  Stepping onto a jutting rock, she peered over the edge. “Found it.”

  On the rocks below them, rapidly being covered by the drifting snow, was the satellite phone terminal box. From what he could see, the box appeared to be pretty much intact. He lowered himself down the rocks so he could pick it up.

  “What do you think happened?” she asked.

  “I’d like to think that a bear knocked the terminal out of the tree and played with it until it fell off the cliff.”

  “I’d like that, too.”

  But that wasn’t what had happened. “I’d have to say that the terminal was sabotaged.”

  “Who would have known it was here?”

  That was the difficult part of the question. He was certain that he hadn’t been observed when he first rigged the terminal in the tree. The next day, when blowing snow hadn’t been a factor, someone must have gone on a search. Finding the terminal wouldn’t have been too difficult. Anyone who knew about satellite phones would know it needed to be at a high point.

  He reached down for the box and picked it up. There was a bullet hole in the dead center.

  He called back up to her, “It wasn’t a bear.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  As Sarah followed Blake into the sheltering trees near the B and B, she noticed that he’d taken off his heavy gloves and was only wearing the liners. His right hand cradled the Glock he’d been carrying in his holster. They were in danger. She couldn’t deny it. The shiver that went down her spine wasn’t entirely due to the frigid temperature. She felt as if they were caught in a trap and the escape routes were being cut off one by one.

  They’d left the damaged box where it was. Looking
up at him, she asked, “What do we tell people about the terminal?”

  “We’re going to have to say that we looked but couldn’t find it. Don’t talk about this with anyone—not even Emily.”

  “Why?”

  “The box was sabotaged. I’ve been asking myself who did it, and I can only see two possibilities—someone working with Franks from the outside, or someone on the inside.”

  A traitor among them. She couldn’t believe it. “But Alvardo checked all their records.”

  “Think about it,” he said. “Someone in the house could monitor all our activities. Before the snow hit, they had plenty of time to locate the terminal, and they could have slipped out this morning to destroy it.”

  “The cameras would have shown them sneaking around.”

  “There’s been plenty of time to study the camera feeds. They’d know how to avoid being caught in the picture.”

  The stark realization hit her. “They could be planning to hurt Emily or Jeremy. We have to get them out of here. I know the roads are bad, but it’s safer for them to try an escape.”

  “If we do that, we’re forcing his hand. He’ll have to strike.” Blake held her arm, anchoring her with his strength. “You need to stay calm, can’t let him see that you’re suspicious.”

  “I think I can do that.” She was accustomed to handling a crisis without showing she was rattled, but this was different. This wasn’t a case of noisy guest causing problems in the hallway late at night. Potentially, this was life and death.

  “We need to identify our enemy,” he said, “before we make our move. Right now, we have the advantage because he doesn’t know we’re looking for him.”

  Blake made the plan sound simple. To him, it was second nature to face enemies and assassins without blinking an eyelash. She wasn’t anywhere near that cool. “Do you know anything more about this person? Is he an enemy of the general or the senator? Why is he doing this?”

  “I don’t have answers.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Stay with Emily. Don’t let her be alone. If he tries to grab her, you’ll be in the way.” He pulled her close for a quick hug. “I know you’re scared. You’d be crazy not to worry. But you can’t give in to it, okay? Stay calm. I’m going to make sure nothing bad happens. You have to trust me.”