Snowfall

by Suzanne Cass

  “At home. We stayed in a spare guest cabin last night. But I needed to go feed Rekker. We thought we’d be safe; we were only going to be five minutes. But these bastards were lying in wait for us.”

  “A rather long wait it was, too,” Samuel said. “Quite chilly, spending all night in that car. But our patience paid off, in the end.”

  Levi sneered at the Southerner and strained against his bindings.

  “Make sure they’re secure now, sugar,” Samuel reminded her.

  Wyatt continued, “I went out to the yard to feed Rekker and when I came back into the kitchen, this asshole had Cat by the neck. I refused to tell him anything, and so did Cat.”

  Stella could almost imagine the scene in their kitchen. Cat was a tough woman. Feisty and resolute, she wouldn’t let anyone dominate her. She was probably swearing at Samuel like a hissing, spitting feral feline.

  “When I wouldn’t tell them where you were, this asshole got the other one, Fedire, to break Cat’s little finger. I heard the snap. And she screamed…” Levi drew in a sharp breath. Stella laid a hand on his shoulder. It must’ve pierced him right through the heart, the sound of the woman he loved in pain. She didn’t blame him for giving away their position. She would’ve done the same thing, if it’d been Wyatt.

  She stopped what she was doing. That was the second time today she’d thought about Wyatt like that. That she would give anything to keep him safe. Was she falling for him? In love with him?

  “He threatened to do it to all of her fingers, one by one, until I told him what he wanted to know,” Levi continued, breaking into her wandering thoughts.

  “I don’t condone needless violence,” Samuel said nonchalantly. “But I have a job to do. You understand how it goes.”

  Merde, she hated this man with a passion. Her mind was racing, and she wondered if Levi’s was doing the same. Could she possibly outwit him? Could they somehow escape and help Wyatt?

  “I think that’s enough to hold his arms. You can start with his legs, now,” Samuel directed. Stella fixed him with a stare that would melt steel, but he merely smiled back. Finally, she moved in front of the chair and knelt down beside Levi’s feet.

  “And that’s how we found you, sugar. Simple, really. All we need is the diamonds, and everyone can go back to living their sweet little lives.”

  Why did Stella not believe him? Kneeling on the floor, she wrapped the tape around Levi’s ankles, while surreptitiously casting her gaze around, looking for inspiration. Something, anything she could use as a tool or a weapon. The discarded items from their backpacks were scattered everywhere, pushed aside as Mike sorted through them. Nothing. There was nothing she could use. It was useless. They were going to die at the hand of this man and his thugs. Her normally nimble fingers struggled to continue wrapping the tape as her hands shook.

  That’s when she spotted it. A lighter. The red plastic winking at her through the gloom. Lying on the floor a few feet away. It must’ve been in Wyatt’s pack; she remembered him using it to start their campfires.

  “You’re not really going to let us go, are you?” she asked, tipping her head up to look Samuel in the eyes. “As soon as Wyatt gets back, you’re going to kill us all.” It wasn’t hard to add a hint of hysteria to her voice. “I don’t want to die. You can’t kill us,” she wailed, flopping backward onto her butt on the floor and then toppling over.

  Levi shot her a look that was half confused, half anguished. Good, if he believed her, then so would Samuel. She lay on the floor and rolled onto her side, one hand covering her face as she moaned louder and louder. Her other hand snaked out, feeling around blindly. Then she had it. The lighter was secreted in her palm as she drew her arm back.

  “Calm down, sugar,” Samuel crooned, taking a step toward her.

  “Don’t come near me,” she yelled. “Don’t you touch me.”

  “All right,” he said, raising his hands above his head. “But you need to settle down.”

  “Stella, it’s okay. We’ll be fine.” Levi’s concerned look was exactly right; it played perfectly into her little game. “Come over here,” he entreated.

  Stella got up from the floor, pretending to wipe away tears, taking a wide berth around Samuel. She reached Levi and flung her arms around his shoulders, sobbing into his neck. “They are, Levi. They’re going to kill us, I know it.”

  Levi made soothing noises. Dipping one hand lower behind his back, she slipped the lighter into Levi’s bound hands, and prayed he’d know what to do with it. The small flame would hopefully burn through the plastic duct tape. If he could get it lit, with his wrists tied together as they were. He stiffened ever so slightly, but immediately went back to making his mollifying sounds of comfort.

  “All right, you’re fine now. Get away from him. Fucking hysterical women.” Samuel snorted. “Always have to make a scene.” Samuel was pointing the gun at her again, and she knew she was walking a fine line. She didn’t want to get him too riled up.

  Making sniffling sounds, she finally stepped away from Levi, hiding her face from Samuel, as if trying to get herself together. If it took a scene to get them out of here, then she was prepared to degrade herself and do just about anything.

  She glanced sideways at Levi, and he gave an imperceptible nod. He was in on her plan. Now all she had to do was distract Samuel long enough that he wouldn’t notice what Levi was up to.

  “I’m cold,” she complained, still swiping at her face.

  “So am I. Can’t believe Dmytro sent us to this freezing hellhole. But there ain’t much I can do about that, sugar.” Samuel grinned.

  Stella took a few steps away from Levi. “Isn’t that a fireplace over there?” She pointed toward the far wall. Samuel came closer, looking in the direction she was pointing. His back was now to Levi.

  “What are you, stupid? We can’t light a fire, someone would see the smoke,” he growled.

  “But I’m cold,” she whined again. “What if we stuff something up the chimney, to stop the smoke going up it?” She walked toward the fireplace, praying he’d follow. He did. “We could set some of these clothes alight.” She gathered up handfuls of apparel from the floor.

  Samuel gazed at the fireplace for a few seconds, considering. He must be cold, to actually be evaluating her foolish idea. She’d plucked it out of the recesses of her brain. If she were Samuel, there was no way she’d light a fire. Of course, it’d attract attention; smoke coming from an abandoned farmhouse.

  Levi made no sound behind them, but suddenly she got the faint whiff of burning plastic. Quick, she needed another distraction. She rushed forward, shoving her armful into the old fireplace, which was full of cobwebs and snow drifts.

  “Stop that, right now,” Samuel demanded. The gun was back up and pointing directly at her.

  Unexpectedly, there was a loud thump from behind them. Both she and Samuel turned their heads in surprise, and saw Levi lying sideways on the floor. His hands were free, and he was curled over his knees, doing something to his ankles. Stella knew he was probably burning through his bindings. But the thug still had no idea what was going on.

  Samuel swung around to face Levi, his gun hand coming up.

  Stella did the only thing she could think of; she kicked at Samuel’s hand that held the gun. Wonder of wonders, the weapon went flying, Samuel was taken completely by surprise, not expecting her to attack.

  He recovered in an instant, and with a bellow of rage, he grabbed her by the throat and sent her crashing to the floor.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  WYATT RAN AS fast and as hard as he could, heart hammering loudly in his ears. He had to get back to Stella. Fedire was dead, that much he knew for sure. But Mike? He wasn’t so convinced about him. Wyatt had definitely shot him. Heard the thud of the bullet imbedding in his skin, and the oof sound as the air left his lungs when he was driven backward, over the edge of the steep ravine. But that didn’t mean he was dead. Or even out of action.

  As Wyatt had led the two
thugs away from the ruined house, he’d bided his time, studied his two foes with covert, sideways glances to try to decide which one was more dangerous. Fedire seemed to be Samuel’s favorite. But to Wyatt’s highly attuned instincts, it was Mike who struck him as the more treacherous of the two.

  In the first few minutes after they left the house, Wyatt had racked his brain, trying to remember as much of the terrain as he could. He’d only walked this trail once since he’d been living at Levi’s and then he and Stella had come down the hard way this morning, straight through the untamed forest.

  There was a rocky plateau about a mile up into the foothills, Wyatt saw it clearly in his mind’s eye. It’d be far enough distant from the house so that hopefully they wouldn’t hear a gunshot, if it came to that. But not so far that it’d take too long for him to run back. On one side, there was a sharp drop-off, and the plateau itself contained piles of boulders, left over from millions of years ago, perhaps when a river had run through the area. The rocks would give him cover, help to confuse his foes if he needed to run for it. The snow would still be in deep drifts after the blizzard, as there was little tree cover. An idea was forming, even as they walked.

  Wyatt would not lead them to the diamonds. He wasn’t climbing back up this mountain today; not if he could help it. He had to return to Stella; make sure she was safe.

  They walked in silence—Wyatt had no desire to converse with these men—him in the lead, Fedire behind him and Mike bringing up the rear.

  Wyatt doubted Samuel was a man of his word, but he hoped against hope that he’d keep Stella and Levi alive, at least until the diamonds were returned. But many unanswered questions bounced around in his head. Would he be too late? Had Samuel killed Levi and Stella already? It did no good to keep thinking these things, it only distracted him from the task in front of him. But he was so terrified. What if he was doing this all for nothing?

  He was already bone-weary from the middle-of-the-night fight to the death and then their morning march down the mountain. But he forced himself to go faster.

  It took them a little over twenty minutes to reach the plateau. All the while, Wyatt watched the two men behind him and planned. The first thing he needed was to separate them. His odds were improved one-on-one. Extending his stride, he put distance between him and Fedire. The swarthy man was trying to hide how out of breath he was; his big woolen coat weighing him down and those stupid shoes slipping in the snow. It wasn’t hard for Wyatt to put ten, and then twenty yards between them as Fedire concentrated on the rough terrain. By the time the other man looked up and gave a shout, it was too late. Wyatt had reached the first pile of boulders.

  He launched himself forward, sprinting behind the cover of the rocks. There was a loud crack as Mike fired a shot, but it pinged harmlessly off the stones. Wyatt twisted and turned, racing through the maze of craggy clefts and broken boulders. The two men shouted at him to stop, but their voices were muffled, and they soon faded as he clambered up the ever-increasing slope. At last, Wyatt scooted behind the cover of an outcrop, bending over to regain his breath.

  He’d wait here.

  He was sweating from exertion, and removed his knit cap and gloves, but knew it would be suicide to take off his coat. As quietly as he could, he climbed the rocky formation. He needed to see the lay of the land. If he was lucky, he might even spot one of the thugs.

  Lying flat on his stomach, he peered over the edge. He was around twenty feet off the ground. It was now early afternoon but dark clouds had scudded in to cover the sun and the day was gray and cheerless, adding to the eerie feeling in beneath the gloom of the fir trees. Wyatt’s stomach growled; he hadn’t had time to eat anything all day. He ignored the complaint from his belly.

  A noise below alerted him, and he held his breath.

  Fedire crept stealthily into view, gun pointed and at the ready as he hunted Wyatt. Mike was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully, they’d split up to search for him, exactly as he’d envisaged. Soon, Fedire was directly below him.

  Wyatt had no way of knowing where Mike was. He listened intently, but could hear nothing to indicate the other man was nearby. It was now or never; if he didn’t take this chance, he might not get another one. Bracing himself, he took a deep breath, pushed up to a crouch and then launched himself, hitting his target head-on.

  Landing on Fedire broke his fall. He and Fedire tumbled together over the snowy ground. Wyatt had been aiming to knock the gun out of the other man’s hand. Unfortunately, he’d missed his mark, and now it was a wrestle for domination of the weapon.

  It was a strange fight, with lots of grunting and straining, both men intently fixed on gaining control of the gun. Wyatt had one knee hooked around Fedire’s waist, one hand pinning his free arm behind him, and the other locked on the wrist holding the gun. They were in a checkmate.

  Wyatt gathered all his remaining strength, raised himself up slightly, and head-butted Fedire in the nose. At the same time, he smashed the man’s arm repeatedly on the ground. Suddenly, the weapon skidded across the muddy ground, away from both of them.

  Wyatt was momentarily distracted, and Fedire pushed him off, sending him tumbling. Fedire began to crawl toward the weapon.

  There was a large rock on the ground nearby. Wyatt picked it up and hurled himself toward Fedire. Raising the rock, he brought it down on Fedire’s hand, just as his fingers grazed the handle of the pistol. The other man howled in pain and rolled away. Wyatt raised the rock again. This time bringing it down on Fedire’s unprotected head.

  It made a horrible, wet, cracking sound and Wyatt looked away. When he found the courage to look back, Fedire’s eyes were open, staring up at the sky as he lay completely still.

  Wyatt shuffled backwards across the dirt until his spine came to rest against the rock face.

  This was the second man he’d killed today.

  He tried to regulate his breathing, glanced away from the dead man lying in the forest.

  His job wasn’t finished, however. Had the sound of fighting alerted Mike to their position?

  With a great effort of will, Wyatt got to his feet. He picked up the gun and stumbled away from the small clearing.

  Which direction had Mike gone? He began a sneaking, methodical search back the way they’d come, gun at the ready. Should he perhaps return to the house? Run back and hope he got there before Mike tracked him down?

  He was adjacent to where the ravine dropped away from the brink of the plateau; close to rejoining the trail. The tree cover thinned out, and he was about to turn and make a dash down the trail, when the snap of a twig alerted him.

  Mike appeared from behind a large trunk. He looked nearly as surprised as Wyatt, clearly not having heard him coming. They both raised their guns, but Wyatt got his round off a millisecond before Mike. He ducked and felt the whiz of a bullet pass close by. He saw Mike spin away and then he was gone, tumbling down the steep slope into the ravine.

  Now Wyatt was running as fast as his battered body would allow. To get back to Stella.

  The gray clouds had gotten darker, holding the promise of snow. But he was nearly there, his feet pounding along the trail of snowy footprints they’d left only half an hour ago. He should stop on the outskirts, hunker down behind the same bush to scout out the place. Make sure he wasn’t about to be gunned down as he ran up the pathway. But he kept going, he had to see for himself. Desperation drove him on.

  Common sense finally prevailed, and when he reached the back door, he slowed down enough to take a few deep breaths. Slipping through the doorway, gun held at the ready, he steeled himself for what he might find.

  The scene before him was so incomprehensible it took his mind a few seconds to adjust.

  Stella was standing in the middle of the living room, using her hands to accentuate her words as she talked. Levi was also in the room, stuffing things back into Wyatt’s backpack. It took a second for Wyatt to locate Samuel. He was strapped to a chair in the corner, wrapped up like a Christmas present
, with duct tape over his mouth.

  He didn’t know how they’d done it, but they’d managed to overpower Dmytro’s right-hand man. Stella was very much alive. And very much as gorgeous as ever.

  “Stella,” he said softly. She didn’t hear him, she was too busy talking.

  “But we have to go after him,” she declared, her voice full of anguish. “Those men will kill him as soon as he hands over the diamonds.”

  “I agree with you, Stella, and that’s why I’m going. But you need to stay here and wait for the police. You need to—” Levi swung around to face Stella and caught sight of Wyatt standing in the doorway. His face split into a huge grin.

  Stella whirled around. “Wyatt? You’re here. You’re safe.” She ran to him and threw herself against his chest. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” he murmured, resting his nose in her neck, inhaling her scent. “I’m fine.” They held each other for uncounted seconds as he let the desperate fear ebb out of him.

  Levi came up and patted him on the back. “Good to see you in one piece. We were worried about you.”

  “And I was worried about you. I came back to rescue you, but it looks like you had it all sorted.” Wyatt didn’t release Stella from his arms, but he dragged his bother to join in their embrace for a few seconds before releasing him.

  “Yes, thanks to Stella, here. She’s wasted as a pastry chef, I’m telling you. She needs to join the secret service, or the FBI, something like that,” Levi joked.

  “How did you…?” Wyatt waved a hand, encompassing the whole room. Samuel glared daggers at him from his chair.

  Stella and Levi began talking at once, and Wyatt had to smile over their garbled conversation. They stopped talking, and all laughed. It was an odd sound, echoing around the ruined house. But it felt good, a release of tension and stress.

  “How about we tell you later,” Levi said. “Sheriff Buchanan is on his way to my house. I need to know Cat is safe and Jude is keeping me posted. Once he’s rescued her, he’s promised to come and pick up the trash over here.” Levi held up a cell phone. “I’ve borrowed Samuel’s, seeing as how he confiscated mine.” He patted his coat pocket. “I’ve also borrowed his gun, just in case you’re wondering where it got to. I’ll go and give the sheriff an update, tell him you’re safe.”