by Nina Bruhns
Gage’s features went taut. His brows lowered over his eyes that darkened with pain. “I was married at one time. My ex-wife and I have been divorced for longer than the marriage lasted, but out of that mess we got twin boys. It was my weekend with them. The boys wanted to go to the zoo. I never saw it coming. One minute we were watching the monkeys and the next my sons were on the ground, bleeding. Dying.”
“Gage . . .”
He shuddered and bent his head. He fell silent, his throat working. “The brother of the man I’d killed was the one who shot my sons. I shot and killed him right after he fired those two shots, but it was already too late. Ben and Josh died instantly. They were four years old.”
Tears fell onto Mallory’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Gage.”
“After my sons were killed, I couldn’t do the job anymore. Didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be around anyone. Mitch had a cabin he used during summer months. He offered it to me for as long as I wanted it. I closed up my house in Washington. Would have resigned my position with the police department, but my superior wouldn’t accept my resignation. Gave me leave instead.” Gage closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, his expression was so pained, so raw, it took her breath. He stared directly into her eyes. “My call. My lapse in judgment cost my son’s lives.”
Mallory’s voice broke along with her heart. “What happened wasn’t your fault, Gage.”
Her cell phone rang. Once. Twice. She allowed it to ring and put her arms around him.
He stiffened. “You should get that.”
Mallory didn’t answer the phone and she didn’t release him.
“You need to get that,” he said.
Not wanting to crowd him, Mallory took the call. It was York. Billy Wilder was in custody.
Snowbound: Chapter Ten
A light rain was falling, turning the snow on the ground to slush when they left Mallory’s apartment. Gage activated the windshield wipers and in the absence of conversation, the swish swish of the blades moving across the glass became the dominant sound in the car.
He pulled in to the lot of the Bureau office. Mallory popped the door latch, then noticed he hadn’t done the same. “Aren’t you coming in? This is what we’ve been waiting for.” But she noticed his expression was grim and she felt a frisson of alarm. “Gage?”
“I’m going to park the car here for you and take a cab to pick up the truck.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay, but I can drive you once this is done with Wilder.”
“I’m picking up the truck and driving to the cabin right after. Now that Wilder is in custody, Considine will have no reason to come after you. You’re safe.”
Which meant his job here was done. She hadn’t wanted to crowd him earlier, but he’d already withdrawn. “Gage, let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Being alone on the mountain isn’t the answer.”
“It’s the only answer I’ve got.”
Gage watched her without blinking, then leaned toward her and kissed her briefly. “They’re waiting for you.” He leaned across her and gave her door a shove.
Mallory stared at him for a long moment. She left the car before the tears burning her eyes welled and he’d see them. She barely made it through the door when the tears spilled onto her cheeks.
“Mallory, hold up!”
It was Special Agent Tom Cole, who’d also participated in the raid on the warehouse calling out to her now. Mallory swiped the back of her hand over her eyes, drying them.
Tom was at the other end of the lobby and jogged to her. “You here to watch Wilder being questioned?”
“Headed there now,” she said.
Tom pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Me, too. I have some time before another appointment and I want to catch some of this. I’ll ride up with you.”
When they reached the interrogation room, Mallory was surprised to find the room was empty.
Tom put his hands on his hips. “No one’s here yet.”
They waited in the hall for York to arrive. Forty minutes later, they were still waiting.
Tom glanced at his watch. “That’s it for me. Enjoy the show.”
Another ten minutes passed and Mallory was still waiting. Had the questioning been delayed?
She took the elevator to York’s office. Jane, the woman who had been York’s assistant since Mallory was assigned to him was at her desk. “Is he in, Jane?”
“Yes. I’ll let him know you’d like a word with him.”
Again, Mallory was left to wait.
“How about a coffee while you’re waiting?” Jane offered.
Mallory didn’t think her nerves needed the added boost of caffeine and shook her head. “No, thanks.”
Jane’s phone buzzed. She took the call then said to Mallory. “Go on in.”
Mallory pushed off the wall and entered the office. York was seated at his desk. His heavy jowls were more pronounced by the tight set to his mouth.
Mallory got right to the point. “What’s happening with Wilder’s interrogation, sir?”
York uttered a sound of disgust. “There isn’t going to be any interrogation. Wilder was found dead in his cell in lock up.”
“How did this happen?”
“Don’t think I haven’t been asking the same question of everyone in the holding block. All that is known so far is that Wilder was found hanging in his cell. At this point we don’t know if it was a suicide or if he was murdered. I’ll let you know what our people find out.”
* * *
The Don felt his control slipping and it was because of the woman. Agent Mallory Burke. She’d survived his people’s attack on the mountain and survived the fire.
He went to the drinks cart in his den and splashed a liberal dose of Scotch into a crystal glass then tossed it back. He poured another.
At this point, his original reason for pursuing her no longer applied. If it was just to prevent her from divulging what she’d learned of his organization when she’d insinuated herself at the club, that was now a moot point. She’d had ample time to give a full report to her superiors. His precaution of moving the women had been right. Without them there was nothing to prove an allegation of human trafficking. And now that he’d had that fool Wilder eliminated, her only known link to the Don had been severed.
But she was investigating other avenues. She’d learned nothing of any significance yet, but if she continued to dig, it was likely she would. The woman was dogged. Relentless in her pursuit. He had no doubt she would go on digging.
So far, she’d eluded him. Played him for a fool. His grip on the glass tightened and his knuckles whitened. No one played him for a fool.
She would learn that lesson soon. A lesson she would take to her grave.
Snowbound: Chapter Eleven
Mallory let herself into her apartment. The trail to the women had gone cold with Billy’s death. Though they had no proof, Mallory laid the blame squarely at Considine’s door. Considine hadn’t let Billy live to tell what he knew.
Another day over and they were no closer to finding the women. She tossed her purse on the kitchen counter in a mild display of the frustration and helplessness she was feeling.
All she had were the dating sites. She was at a standstill with nowhere to go from here until/if one of them made contact.
She would have liked to be able to talk this out with Gage. He was a skilled investigator. She welcomed his input. And, she wanted his arms around her. Wanted his strength. His comfort. His touch.
She didn’t want to recall making love with Gage, knowing all she would ever have were memories. She closed her eyes, trying to contain the images, but they would not be contained. They remained front and center in her mind and with them, her feelings for him. Impossible to ignore, they made her yearn for something she would never have.
She’d fallen in love with him. He didn’t return her feelings. What he felt for her was a sense of responsibility. H
e’d made himself responsible for her safety and as soon as Billy Wilder was arrested and the threat to her from Considine was gone, Gage had left. Once she was out of danger, Gage’s job was done.
He was so hurt, so closed-off. Pain and guilt had a choke-hold on him that he could not break. No doubt he would have blamed himself if Considine had harmed her. He couldn’t carry any more guilt. He was bowing under a weight of blame for the death of his sons. She didn’t know what to do about that. Tears stung her eyes.
The phone in her kitchen rang. Mallory snatched a tissue and wiped her eyes as she picked up the receiver. After her greeting a man apologized for dialing a wrong number.
“It’s okay,” she said in a monotone. She replaced the phone on the wall mount.
Her thoughts returned to Gage. Overwhelming her. Overpowering her. She slid down the wall to the floor and cried.
After, she picked herself up off the kitchen floor and went into the bathroom. She washed her face, pressing the damp cloth to her eyes. There would be more tears later but for now she had a job to do.
Considine had a weak spot. Somewhere. She was going to find it.
She was returning to the kitchen when her front door burst open. Two men charged inside. Her purse was on the counter, her service weapon inside.
Ignoring the pain in her ankle, Mallory ran. She lunged for her purse but before she could reach her gun, she was pulled back by the hair. She reared back with her elbow, jabbing the big brute who held her in the sternum. His breath whooshed out and he released her. The man cursed. His was the voice from the wrong number. The hair on the back of Mallory’s neck rose. This was no random break in. She was the target.
She was fighting for her life now. She spun away from the brute but the other man with him struck out with his fist and Mallory tasted blood. She landed a solid hit, then the brute recovered and grabbed her from behind. The man she’d struck knocked her to the floor, and kicked her in the side. She felt something break. He kicked her in the head and then she felt nothing at all.
* * *
Gage spent his first day back at the cabin attending to chores. Without the generator, the food in the fridge and freezer had spoiled. He’d anticipated that and had stopped for supplies on the drive up. He’d used most of the wood in the crate on the last night he and Mallory had spent here and was now outside, splitting logs.
The air was crisp and fresh. Snow glittered like crystal in the bright sunlight and crunched under Gage’s boots as he made his way over it to the shed for more wood to cut. All trace of what had gone down here with Considine’s men was gone. There was nothing but snow as far as his eye could see. He suspected it would take some time for the creatures that lived on this mountain to venture out from wherever they’d taken refuge during the storm.
He’d come to these mountains seeking refuge but the mountains hadn’t been able to give that to him. Nothing could.
Mallory.
Her name flashed in his mind.
He rolled his shoulders, now feeling on edge. Restless. The mountain, despite its wide open space felt oppressive. Dropping the ax atop the wood pile, he went into the cabin for the keys to Mitch’s truck. He needed to get away from here for a while. He’d take a walk down the mountain and a trip into town, maybe for more supplies. Though he couldn’t think what, he must have forgotten to get something.
Main Street was quiet when he drove into town. It was a work day and traffic, both pedestrian and vehicular was light. On impulse, he parked in front of the bar at the end of the street and went inside.
A few locals were shooting pool in a corner. A couple others sat at scarred wooden tables, drinking drafts and talking sports. Gage didn’t know any of them which saved him from having to exchange greetings which was fine with him. He was in no mood to socialize. Just what his mood was, though, he couldn’t say.
He ordered a beer and took the bottle to one of the booths in back. The solid thwack of one billiard ball striking another and sending it spinning into a corner pocket prompted a hoot from the man who’d made the shot. Sweet shot. Gage had to agree.
Gage was a decent pool player, himself. He wondered if Mallory played. He imagined her bending over the table, lining up a shot. Her features pulled taut in concentration. Her eyes narrowed and unblinking in their focus. She would give her all to the game, just as she gave her all to everything she did.
Gage shifted position on the bench and focused on the pool table. The game was over. The men were now engaging in a round of back slapping as they returned their cues. Without the distraction of their game, Gage sought another.
A TV was mounted on the wall above the bar. Tuned to a game show. Though only one of the bar stools was occupied, he remained standing and watched a contestant jump and squeal as the host congratulated her on being the winner. The credits rolled. The show ended.
He’d helped Mallory when she’d needed it. Until she needed it. Now they’d both gone back to living their lives. The End.
As far as endings went, it was a good one. His mind took him back to a sunny summer day at the zoo with the sweet smell of cotton candy in the air and the coppery tang of blood.
He hadn’t died that day but he might as well have. Losing his children had left him dead inside. He’d never let himself look too closely at just why he’d brought his service weapon up to Mitch's cabin.
Now he was back where he belonged and Mallory was where she should be. Yeah, a good ending. Something kicked his heart at that thought. He put the beer to his lips and drank deeply to drown it.
A news program began. The anchor started the run down of the days events. First up was an appeal to the public for information on a woman who’d been abducted. A photo flashed on the screen. Mallory. Gage was off the stool and as close to the TV as he could get before he’d taken his next breath. The anchor identified Mallory in her official capacity as an FBI agent and added that she’d been taken from her home. The report ended with a clip of Mallory’s superior, York, requesting that anyone with information should contact the Bureau. A telephone number scrolled along the bottom of the screen. The report was over almost as soon as it began, but in that brief time Gage’s heart rate soared until he felt it would burst from his chest.
Considine. It had to be Considine. The bastard had her. Images popped into Gage’s mind. Mallory being interrogated. Mallory bleeding and in pain. Mallory dead. Gage felt a tsunami of fear, fear he’d never known for himself. He raced for the exit.
Mallory’s apartment would be his first stop. He needed to see where she’d been taken.
He made good time, but then he hadn’t observed any speed limits, driving pedal to the metal the whole way, pushing the old truck regardless of how she quivered as the speedometer needle swung farther to the right.
At the apartment, he ignored the crime scene tape and went inside. His blood ran cold. The place was trashed. Mallory had not gone without a fight. The thought came to Gage that her abductors had needed to apply significant force to take her out of here.
The image of Mallory hurt returned to him, so strong now that he was actually faced with the reality of it. He wanted to storm Considine’s home like an enraged bull. A desperate thought that wouldn’t help her. He needed to keep his head. Breathing hard, he concentrated on doing just that and to force himself to think like a cop, not a man who . . . cared about her.
The crime scene team had been all over the apartment. Gage didn’t know what he hoped to find. In the end he found nothing but blood. He honed on a patch of blood that had dried on the kitchen floor. He closed his eyes briefly, then turned away from it.
He went to see York next. York was moving about the office like a hurricane. Gage stepped into York’s path, halting him. “Where do things stand with Billy Wilder?” Gage knew it was professional courtesy for a fellow cop that had York considering how to respond to the question rather than blowing Gage off outright.
“Wilder’s dead,” York said. “He died in lock up. I got the report from ou
r people earlier today that he was murdered.”
“Considine?”
“Investigation is ongoing, but he looks good for this.”
A burn started in Gage’s stomach. Considine was cleaning house and Mallory was next. “What about the women?”
“Wilder was our only lead.” York clenched his fists. “We’ve started a canvass of the apartments and of the area. Someone had to have seen something.”
Gage knew the drill. Knew that witness accounts were most often sketchy. Memories were faulty. Precious time could be wasted tracking down false clues. And all the while Mallory was in Considine’s hands. Fear seized Gage again, and for an instant he couldn’t move. He forced himself back from that edge, forced himself to shake off the fear and bring himself back to the moment.
He addressed York again. “Do you have anything else on Considine to bring him in and force him to give up Mallory?”
“Not a damn thing.”
“Sir?”
A female agent reached them and addressed York. Gage left them to their conversation.
* * *
Mallory came awake slowly. Her first conscious thought was one of pain. Fighting waves of dizziness and nausea, she clasped her head as if to stop something in there from causing her this hurt. She took a breath. Agony shot through her side, threatening to send her back into the void of unconsciousness.
She closed her eyes and worked on taking shallow breaths. She didn’t know where she was but she recalled the two men who’d broken into her apartment and abducted her.
She smelled mold and somewhere water dripped, striking a surface with a plop that echoed. Her hands and feet were free. If restraints hadn’t been used then that meant her abductors were secure in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be able to get away.
She opened her eyes again slowly against another level of pain. It was black as night and cold. Clutching her side, she raised herself from the floor, and braced herself against a wall at her back. The room spun. No doubt she was concussed. As she held her head in her hands she thought a concussion would be the least of her worries.
