Mountain Refuge

by Sarah Varland

  Smoke billowed through the open front door, and when Summer looked back she realized the back wall of the cabin had flames growing, from the base of the wall near the fireplace.

  Ryan had set the cabin on fire?

  Ryan.

  She turned her attention back to him, found Ryan and Clay still fighting. Ryan had an inch or so on Clay, but Clay hit hard. It hadn’t taken him long to discover the spot where Ryan was wounded, either, and Summer could see he was focusing his hits on Ryan’s right side.

  Summer ran to the front door and pushed the door shut since more smoke seemed to be coming from outside than from the fire inside. She didn’t want them to die of smoke inhalation before they had a chance to end this. She knew they didn’t have long before the entire cabin was in flames but she didn’t know how long. It was fire-treated wood but it wouldn’t withstand direct fire for long. Seconds? Minutes? She wasn’t sure.

  She hurried back to where the fighting was taking place, did her best to stay out of the way. Maybe she should run? But no, what if Clay needed her later?

  He was starting to seem unsteady on his feet, she noticed, but she couldn’t tell why. From what she could see, Clay seemed to be getting in the best hits.

  But still, he stumbled backward. Summer rushed toward him, not sure how much help she’d be but determined to try.

  The door slammed open again and relief almost overwhelmed Summer as she caught a glimpse of her brother Noah, still alive after all. Summer looked back at the killer, watched as Ryan’s attention went to the door. Ignoring the throbbing in her foot, she landed one more hard kick against his shoulder. As she did so Clay seemed to gain just a little more strength and no sooner had she kicked Ryan than Clay landed one last punch, directly on the side of the man’s head.

  He fell to the ground, unconscious.

  Everything stilled. Summer took a breath, listened to her heart pounding and looked around the cabin. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  The back wall was engulfed now, flames dancing and advancing toward them.

  “Noah,” Clay called to the other man. “Summer, get out.”

  She wanted to argue but Clay’s tone made it clear that wouldn’t go over well. She went to the deck, which was as far as she dared go in case they needed her help, and waited, holding her breath almost from fear, for them to come out.

  We’re alive, God. You did it. You saved us.

  She swallowed hard. God wasn’t finished with her, wasn’t ignoring her because she’d made mistakes. Wasn’t punishing her.

  Forgive me, Lord.

  Just when she was about to run back inside to make sure her brother and Clay both got out, they came through the door, dragging Ryan behind them. They’d handcuffed his hands together.

  Noah nodded behind him. “The SAT phone. It’s on the counter.”

  Clay ducked back inside. Summer didn’t think she took another breath until he emerged.

  There he was safe. Both of them safe.

  He tossed the phone to Noah. “Call the troopers. We need to get this guy off the mountain.”

  NINETEEN

  The troopers had managed to get a helicopter close enough to get Ryan loaded into it. He was on his way to Spring Creek Correctional Center in Seward.

  He wasn’t going to take any more innocent lives.

  Clay finally took a deep breath when that man was gone from the mountain, out of their lives. Summer would have to testify, more than likely both of them would, but that wouldn’t be for months or years to come. For now, it was over, and for today that was enough.

  The remains of the cabin were burning down behind them. Emergency personnel had decided the best course of action was to let it burn, since it was surrounded by rocks that wouldn’t be able to spread the fire. Unfortunately saving the cabin itself would have required too much resource-wise, and the cost and risk would be higher than it was worth, especially since the scene would be compromised anyway from a crime scene perspective.

  Clay had detected a note of relief on Summer’s face when that decision had been made.

  “I’d rather our family rebuild anyway. Start over.”

  The words had seemed to carry a double meaning for her that Clay suspected had something to do with how she felt she’d let them down. Did that mean she wasn’t holding the past over her head anymore?

  He wasn’t sure. But he walked over to her now, to where she stood a safe distance back watching the flames finish the work Ryan had started. The sky overhead was still blue and cloudless, the air warm. It was a gorgeous summer day.

  A day for new beginnings.

  Clay took Summer’s hand in his. “Are you okay?”

  She turned to him, glacier-blue eyes clear. “I’m better than okay.” She sniffed as she wiped what he thought might have been the remains of a tear from the corner of her eye.

  “Want to take a walk down the ridgeline or did you want to stay here?”

  “A walk would be good, I think.”

  Hand in hand, they walked back toward the trail where they’d come up. Had that just been yesterday? The last twenty-four hours had seemed like days, moving slowly and quickly all at the same time, so packed full of changing and near-death experiences.

  Clay reminded himself to take a deep breath. It was over, the danger, the case. And hopefully, he and Summer were just beginning.

  “I noticed this spot yesterday, when we hiked up here.” He looked at Summer. “I thought it was the most beautiful place in the world.”

  She smiled up at him. His heart caught.

  “And I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Clay was surprised at how easily the words came. They were true. He felt them with everything in him. “And if everything that happened to me in Treasure Point had to happen for me to get here, to meet you, it was worth it.”

  Summer squeezed his hand, and somehow it meant more than sentences full of words ever could have. She understood.

  “I know…” Clay cleared his throat, tried to breathe around the tightness in his chest. It wasn’t every day he asked a woman to marry him and he wanted to do this right. He’d already messed up by not having a ring ready, but he’d learned from the last week that life was short. Some risks were worth it, and loving Summer, asking her this question today, here on the mountain where they’d both been given a fresh start, it was worth everything despite not being perfect.

  Because she was. Perfect for him. He hoped he could be half the man she deserved. And if she said yes to his question, he’d spend the rest of his life making sure he was.

  “I know we haven’t known each other for long. And I know everything has been crazy. But I also know I love you, Summer.”

  “I love you too.”

  The words, said quietly but with certainty, relaxed the tightness in his chest. He tightened his grip on her hand. She squeezed back and he turned to face her, lifted a hand and stroked her cheek. “I want to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

  Her eyes widened. Hopefully in a good way. Clay kept talking. “I want to marry you, Summer Dawson, and live up here with you, having adventure upon adventure, watching you run up mountains and along ridgelines. Would you be my wife? Will you marry me?”

  She laughed, full hearted, her eyes shimmering with so much hope Clay felt it too.

  He brushed a tear from her face. A happy tear, the only kind he ever intended to be the cause of for the rest of their lives.

  “Yes, Clay. I would love to marry you.”

  He wrapped her in his arms, squeezed her in a tight hug and then released her just far enough back that he could tip his head down and claim her lips in a kiss.

  Their happily-ever-after was just beginning. And Clay couldn’t wait to see what their future held.

  *

  Don’t miss Sarah Varland’s other exciting romantic suspense stories:

  TREASURE POINT SECRETS

  TUNDRA THREAT

  COLD CASE WITNESS

  SILENT NIGHT SHAD
OWS

  PERILOUS HOMECOMING

  Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from HIGH-RISK INVESTIGATION by Jane M. Choate.

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  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to Alaska! While I love Georgia, where I was born and where I’ve set many of my stories, Alaska is my favorite state and I had so much fun setting a book in areas that are familiar to me. While Moose Haven is purely imaginary, if you ever find yourself in Alaska and can make it to the town of Seward, which is near Moose Haven in this story, I think you’ll find it’s pretty similar. I’m looking forward to returning to Moose Haven soon for Tyler Dawson’s story.

  Writing about Clay Hitchcock was so fun for me because he’s been with me for five books now. When he first had a small side character part in my debut novel, Treasure Point Secrets, I knew I liked him. Summer was such a fun contrast to him and I enjoyed imagining their story.

  Both main characters in this story struggled with some amount of guilt: Clay for feeling like he let down his fellow officers in Georgia; and Summer for the way her past actions had impacted her family. Guilt is a powerful thing, but God’s forgiveness is stronger. They both also struggled with grief, and Summer especially wrestled with how her grief had taken some of the fullness out of her life. I loved writing the hints in this book to Summer about how Jesus wants us to have an abundant life because those words are so true for us who are real people. Grief is difficult to work through, but I believe God still wants us to live abundantly, to be thankful for our lives and to hold on to hope.

  Along those lines, in this story, I finally came right out and touched on the subject of miscarriage. If, like me, you’re one of the women who has lost a baby and needs someone to talk to, please know that I would be happy to chat by email. Also know that you are not alone. And that God is still love, and still faithful.

  Hearing from readers is one of my favorite parts of writing and I’d love to hear from you! You can get in touch through email at sarahvarland@gmail.com, or find me on Facebook at Facebook.com/sarahvarlandauthor.

  Sarah Varland

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.

  You enjoy a dash of danger. Love Inspired Suspense stories feature strong heroes and heroines whose faith is central in solving mysteries and saving lives.

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  High-Risk Investigation

  by Jane M. Choate

  ONE

  Nicco Santonni yanked at the too-tight collar of the starched white shirt. The tuxedo, a rental, felt like a straitjacket that at any moment might strangle him. He’d take a flak jacket or even the shalwar kameez—the traditional Middle Eastern baggy, pajama-like trousers paired with a long cotton tunic—over the monkey suit, but tonight’s job dictated formal wear.

  He had as much use for a tuxedo as he did for the glitz and glamour of the ballroom at Savannah’s premiere hotel, but a bodyguard went where his client did and tonight that meant showing up for a charity fund-raiser.

  He’d arrived early for the event. Another operative was watching the client in the hours before the gala began. Ranger to the core, he’d wanted to survey his surroundings. He didn’t like being taken by surprise. Constructing a grid pattern of the ballroom came first, followed by identifying any likely spots for a sniper attack. He didn’t expect to use his expertise in explosives or hand-to-hand combat tonight, but an operative for S&J Security/Protection never knew what he or she would be called upon to do.

  Protecting a client required finesse and a boatload of other skills, but protecting one who didn’t know she was being guarded presented the distinct problem of keeping close without giving himself away. Not for the first time, Nicco wondered how he’d ended up with a job he didn’t want.

  The answer was simple. Family. His brother Sal’s wife, Olivia, had asked that he protect Scout McAdams.

  Olivia had stressed that her friend not know she was under S&J’s protection until it became absolutely necessary. “I know Scout. She’ll tell you to get lost. But the letters she’s been receiving are getting scarier all the time. I’m worried.”

  Nicco couldn’t say no. Not to Olivia. She was family, and family was everything to the Santonnis. Family, and loyalty to the people who signed your paycheck.

  Working for S&J had been the best thing to happen to him after he’d left the Rangers. Named for the founders, Shelley Rabb Judd and her brother Jake Rabb, S&J was quickly becoming a leading player in the growing protection industry with clients in both the private and public sectors.

  Nicco had never regretted the decision to join the firm. Caring was the cornerstone of S&J. That, and passion for the job. He liked the work and sometimes even liked the clients. As Shelley said, “You don’t have to like the clients. You just have to protect them.”

  He didn’t know whether he liked Scout McAdams as he’d never been introduced to her. He knew she was a reporter and that she had been receiving threats. His lips tightened. Whoever was threatening McAdams was just a bully, and if there was one thing Nicco was good at, it was protecting innocents from bullies. He’d encountered his share in Afghanistan—warlords who ordered death as easily as an ordinary person would order coffee.

  As unobtrusively as possible, Nicco conducted a scan of the area surrounding his client. Accustomed to searing heat, blowing sand and the smells of war, he found the scents of perfume and flowers cloying. He watched as McAdams worked her way through the crowd, moving quickly with a self-assurance that belied her pint-size frame, her gold dress swirling about her ankles. There was an intensity to her that attracted attention, while the determination in her stride had people stepping aside to make way for her.

  A pendant in the shape of a miniature gold pencil swayed gently as she walked. He’d noticed earlier that she occasionally touched it as one might a talisman and wondered at the significance of it.

  The hair at the back of his neck prickled, and an unmistakable rush of adrenaline propelled his senses to high alert. A fraction of a moment later, he settled into a state of cool calm. His breathing slowed, steadied, as he assessed the possible risks.

  Protecting the client came first. Always. He did not make a move for the Walther that he wore in a custom-fit shoulder holster. It was enough to know that it was within reach should he need it. A backup piece fit snugly at his ankle.

  The weapons were a far cry from the M249 SAW, a light machine gun, and the 9 mm Berretta he’d carried as an Army Ranger, but they did the job. A half smile tipped the corners of his lips as he pictured the probable reaction of tonight’s well-heeled crowd if he’d appeared with the submachine gun cradled in his arms.

  Whether in the mountains of Afghanistan or the ballroom of a glitzy hotel, preparation was key. For Nicco, that meant being ready to do whatever it took to get the job done, including using deadly force if necessary.

  Violence didn’t solve problems. Too often,
it created them. But to assume that the world’s wrongs could be fixed with a bunch of talk was not only naive, it was dangerous.

  He moved closer to McAdams, observing the ebb and flow of people closest to his client as well as any place where a sniper might take position. A glint of metal from the balcony caught his eye. He didn’t need to see the gun to know that a shooter was taking aim.

  Nicco was in the cold zone now, the state that allowed him to be part of the moment without being in the moment. Instinct and training took over.

  “Everybody down.” He didn’t wait to see if people obeyed but sprang toward his client just as two shots fired in rapid succession. He knocked her down and covered her body with his own.

  Screams and cries echoed throughout the cavernous room. Nicco ignored those, his concern for only the woman he’d flattened. He hoped he hadn’t injured her, but he’d had to get her out of the range of fire as quickly as possible.

  Cautiously, he rolled off her, then motioned for her to crawl beneath one of the high-top tables set up in the ballroom. Though his instincts told him to go after the shooter, his first duty lay with the client.

  When no other shots sounded, he climbed out from under the table, looked about, then offered his hand to Scout McAdams. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, placing her hand in his. “I think you just saved my life.”

  *

  “Rachel Scout McAdams,” she said, sticking out her hand.

  “Nicco Santonni.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Santonni. I owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me a thing.”

  The brusqueness of the response startled her. Maybe, she reasoned, he was as shaken by the shots as she had been. She snuck a glance at him and dismissed that thought. The big man standing in front of her didn’t appear to be the kind to be rattled by anything or anyone.