Gold Fire

by Starr Ambrose

  “Wait, back up. You said ‘no matter who owns it.’ Does that mean you’d consider selling it?”

  “I don’t see that happening. I’d need a guarantee that the land was safe from development.”

  “No matter who owns it.”

  “Yes.”

  Feather snorted. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “Because I don’t see what difference it makes.”

  “You gotta keep the faith, brother.” The line went dead.

  He smiled at the phone, and shook his head. The old hippies were a little odd, but he liked them.

  • • •

  Jase’s truck was already in the Rusty Wire lot when Zoe pulled in. No other cars were there.

  She shivered with pleasure, remembering a similar situation two weeks ago. Alone in the saloon with Jase, no customers, the end of a long, hot day . . . the memory still aroused her. Except for the rays of sunlight slicing low through the pines in the west, the scene was the same.

  She figured the sexual tension was just as high this time, maybe higher. It was no longer about the mystery of what he looked like beneath his clothes, or how he might touch her and how he’d feel moving inside her. She knew all those things now. It was the knowing that increased the tension, that made her want him at every opportunity. At this rate she would never get him out of her system.

  But she had trained for a career, and become good at it. You didn’t just throw that away.

  Steeling herself against that reality, she concentrated on remembering their first encounter. If Jase wanted one more memorable session of table sex in his saloon, she was more than willing to participate.

  The visual that went with that thought had her smiling as she rapped on the new back door. She hadn’t finished knocking when something slapped beside her against the door. She squinted at the brown mark against the creamy white metal of the door, wondering if someone had thrown a stone. At the same moment, a distant crack echoed off the mountains, sending overlapping echoes rolling through the air.

  A rifle shot. She heard them enough during hunting season to recognize the distinctive crack. But they shouldn’t be on Jase’s land, which is where she assumed the sound had come from. And what animal was in season in August?

  She took another look at the brown mark on the door. As she did, a second bullet popped against the door, tearing a hole inches from her shoulder. The echoing report rolled after it. Shit! She ducked, one hand on the doorknob, jiggling frantically. “Jase! Jase, open the door!”

  A third bullet slammed into the door, a foot below the last one. Too close to her head. Any thought that it was accidental fled from her mind. She was the target.

  What was she thinking, calling Jase? If he opened the door, he’d be in the line of fire. She dropped her hand. She should run for cover.

  The Dumpster. It was the closest thing, and big enough to protect her.

  She crouched low, ready to run.

  The door opened and Jase looked down with surprise. “Zoe, what are you . . .”

  A fourth bullet hit the door at the same moment she threw herself against his lower body, tumbling them both inside. “Close the door! Fast!”

  She wasn’t sure if Jase recognized the slap of the bullet, but he couldn’t miss the booming echo. He didn’t hesitate. He dove against the door, slamming it shut. She wondered belatedly if it would really protect them, or if the bullets would pierce the metal panels. She rose on shaky legs to look, but Jase grabbed her arm and whirled her around.

  “The bar! Go!” He shoved against her back, leaving his hand there as she stumbled, then ran full out to the front of the saloon. Dodging behind the bar, she searched for a hiding place, finding none. She huddled against a wooden keg. It was little protection against a rifle if the shooter followed them inside. Nothing would be. Running straight through the saloon and out the front door made more sense. She’d rather take her chances in the open than be a sitting duck.

  She turned to tell Jase and saw him cradling a shotgun in his lap as he opened the safe. She hadn’t seen him pull it out, but it looked like he meant to use it.

  His plan might be better.

  He pulled out a box of shells, slipping five into the barrel. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he thrust it at her. “Call 911.”

  She did, starting over once because her shaking hand hit the eight along with the nine. She waited through a slow connection and one ring, telling herself to be concise and not babble incoherently.

  “Nine-one-one operator.”

  “Someone is shooting at us. The Rusty Wire saloon. They’re outside, west of the saloon, in the trees.”

  “Where are you, miss?” The voice was admirably calm compared to Zoe’s, which was quivering. Of course, no one was trying to kill the operator at the moment.

  “We’re inside, behind the bar.”

  “Stay there, someone is on the way. How many people are in the building?”

  “Just Jase and me. He’s the owner.” She watched him pump the shotgun and take a position facing the back hall. “I think we’re okay. He has a gun.”

  “Tell him not to go outside,” the operator said quickly. “Or anyplace else in the building. Tell him he needs to stay right where he is.”

  He wasn’t going to leave her, she knew it, but she told him anyway. “The lady says not to go anywhere.”

  “The lady’s not here,” he growled, jaw set so hard she saw the cords in his neck. “If someone comes through that door, I’m not going to wait for him to shoot us. You tell her to tell the police they’d better announce themselves and show some ID before they come in here.”

  Zoe relayed the message, feeling suddenly calmer and safer with the knowledge that Jase was willing to shoot first and ask questions later. That shouldn’t be comforting, but right now she preferred it to being a helpless victim.

  “Ma’am? Did you see the shooter?”

  “No. Tell the police he was shooting at the back door. The front probably isn’t in his line of sight.”

  “Are you sure there’s only one shooter?”

  Damn, she hadn’t thought of that.

  The sound of sirens reached her, increasing rapidly. Within seconds the wailing was right outside the saloon, then abruptly silenced. Another siren in the distance grew closer. Jase had risen to his feet when pounding shook the front door. A man’s muffled voice yelled, “Jase! You in there?”

  Relief washed through her as she disconnected the call. She stood, yelling back, “Cal! We’re okay.”

  “Zoe?”

  Jase strode to the door, fishing keys from his pocket. “Stay back,” he ordered her.

  Huddling behind the bar didn’t feel as safe as standing beside two armed men. She hurried to follow Jase.

  Unlocking both sets of doors, he opened the outside one a few inches, blocking her. Cal stood, gun held at his side, scanning the surrounding trees. She saw the large white letters spelling POLICE on the back of his bulletproof vest before he turned to glance inside. “Anyone hurt?” His attention was already back on the tree line, even though Zoe doubted he could see the right area from here.

  “No,” Jase said.

  “Did you see the shooter?”

  “No,” Zoe answered. She tried shoving Jase aside, but he didn’t budge, so she settled for peeking over his arm. “I think the shots came from the trees around the other side. I knocked on the back door, and four bullets hit it, right next to me.”

  Another black police SUV pulled in, lights flashing, and Cal gestured with his gun for them to go around the building. “Stay inside,” he ordered, then trotted after the SUV.

  Jase looked at her. She expected anger for not following his orders to stay behind the bar, but worry lines wrinkled the corners of his eyes. He stroked a hand over her hair, cupping her face. “You’re really okay?” he asked, his voice gravelly with emotion.

  She nodded. “Just shook up.”

  He ran his hand up and down her arm, looking pretty shaken himself be
fore setting his mouth in a grim line. “He’s gone too far this time.”

  She didn’t have to ask who he meant. “He’s gone, period. Jase, no one at the Alpine Sky knows where Matt is. Even his personal secretary can’t reach him. He left. I think he skipped the country.”

  A furrow creased his brow in an irritated twitch. “Why?”

  “His financial problems are snowballing. Bankers and lawyers are trying to reach him.”

  His mouth curled with disgust. “A real stand-up guy. But what makes you think he left the country?”

  She hesitated. “Ruth Ann is in the Caribbean, throwing money around, and I assumed he’d join her. Maybe hide out someplace where the FBI can’t find them.”

  “Or maybe just disappear into the trees and take some revenge. He might even convince me to sell at the same time. That sounds like a better solution than running for the rest of his life.”

  She stared. He was right. Matt would save himself. She simply hadn’t considered he’d do it by killing her. It was an extreme move for someone who’d seemed so organized and rational.

  But emotionally detached. The memory of how easily he’d accepted her relationship with Jase sent a cold chill down her arms. She didn’t want to believe he’d resort to murder, yet couldn’t say it was beyond him.

  Attempted murder was bad enough, but she’d kissed this guy. Envisioned how he’d fit into her life. Considered sleeping with him, for God’s sake. She pulled a chair off one of the tables and sat down. Jase didn’t say anything, but laid the shotgun on the table and stood behind her, massaging her shoulders.

  • • •

  It took a full hour before Cal told them the woods were clear. They’d found the shooter’s position easily enough by figuring out the highest point with the best line of sight. No shell casings had been left, but recent scuffs in the dirt showed where he’d knelt. Unfortunately, scuff marks didn’t provide clues to the shooter’s identity.

  It didn’t matter. She didn’t need the police to tell her who had taken those shots. Neither did Jase.

  They remained at the table after the police had gone, too drained to move. Elbows propped on the table, she rubbed her fingers over her forehead, trying to massage away the tension. It wasn’t working.

  “I’m not safe here,” she finally said.

  “No, you aren’t.”

  “I need to leave town.”

  He looked relieved. “I was afraid I’d have to argue the point.”

  “I’m not stupid. I don’t want to get shot, and I don’t want you shot because of me. You’re probably still in danger.”

  “Agreed—this won’t end until Matt’s caught. If his company is in as much trouble as you think, threatening me is the only reason he’s sticking around. If I leave, he’ll disappear, too, and we’ll never know when he might show up again. I’m staying until it’s over. But I can look out for myself better if I’m not worrying about you. Once we catch him and this is over, you can come back.” He stood, picking up the shotgun.

  That was the hard part. She swallowed the tightness in her throat, speaking to his back as he carried the gun back to the bar. “I can’t come back. I need a job, and none of the resorts here will talk to me. Maybe someday they will, when the whole story comes out, but for now they’ll believe Matt.”

  He stopped, and pivoted toward her with a frown. “So find some other kind of work.”

  “Resort management is all I know, Jase. I’ve worked at the Alpine Sky since I was twenty-one. I can’t go back to waiting tables to pay the bills.”

  An intense look came over his face. He set the gun on the bar, striding back to her. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not enough money.” She would have thought that was obvious.

  “It’s not just about money.”

  “Of course it is.” She shook her head over his apparent disinterest in money. She’d never understood it. “Maybe you can turn down a few million dollars, but I have a car payment.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He brushed off her reasonable concern for income. Apparently she’d never learn his secret to living without money.

  Squatting in front of her, he took her hands in his own. “Zoe, why did you choose to go into hotel management? I’m betting it wasn’t something you’d always wanted to do.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Not really.”

  “It was part of your plan to repair your image in this town, wasn’t it? Because the resorts have all the power and prestige in B-Pass, and managing them might allow a little of that to rub off on you.”

  She wondered if she was that transparent to everyone. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, if your goal is to repair your reputation. Is it?” His gaze held her in place. “Is that what you still want most in life?”

  She’d already told him it wasn’t. Getting respect from the residents of Barringer’s Pass shouldn’t be more important than respecting herself, than doing what she wanted to do. But she’d let it be, for ten years. And it hadn’t gotten her anyplace.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly as she shook her head. “You’re right, hotel management was never what I wanted, it was just what I needed to do. But, Jase . . .” She worked to keep desperation out of her voice. “I don’t know what I want most in life. Between doing what I had to do to shock my family, then what I had to do to repair the damage, I never thought about what I wanted to do.”

  He smiled. “Didn’t make a list for that, huh?”

  “Maybe I should have.” And she was starting to think that if she made one, Jase belonged near the top.

  “This is your chance to change direction if you want to, Zoe. Don’t lose it.”

  The sketchy outlines of an idea teased her mind, a product line and marketing plan for wool items made from the commune’s sheep. With enough time, she was sure it would work. It sounded tempting, but . . . “I can’t afford to, Jase. I need an income, now.”

  “So work for me.”

  “What?”

  “As soon as this is over and you come back. Wait tables, tend bar, balance the books, whatever. You’re hired. It’s not as much money as you made before, but it’ll keep you going for a few months while you figure out what you really want to do.”

  “That’s nice of you, really. But I can’t. I need medical benefits—”

  “The Rusty Wire offers a health care package.”

  “It does?”

  “Hey, I’m a responsible employer.”

  And she’d be sleeping with the boss, which goes over so well with fellow employees. “I don’t know . . .”

  “Please.” He brushed a stray hair off her face, stroking her cheek as he did, turning her insides quivery with longing. “Once this mess with Matt is over, stay in Barringer’s Pass while you figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life. If you need a day off, take it, anytime. Work as few or as many days as you need to.”

  “That’s a ridiculously generous offer.”

  His fingers trailed over her cheek again, his thumb smoothing along her lips. He leaned in, kissing her where he stroked. “I want you to stay, Zoe.”

  She wasn’t made of stone. Her heart pounded crazily against her ribs, and she barely managed to keep her smile calm. “I guess you’ve got yourself a waitress.”

  He smiled back.

  For several seconds she absorbed the warm feeling, saying nothing, with a dopey smile stuck on her face.

  “Touching.”

  Jase jerked to his feet. Zoe turned a startled glance toward the back hall.

  Jennifer stood watching them, a cardboard box in her arms.

  “God, Jennifer, you scared me to death,” Jase said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I was quiet.”

  Zoe thought she looked a little annoyed as she set the box on the bar. If she’d been there long enough to hear Jase offer Zoe a job, it might account for her bad mood.

  Jase paused, as if unsure of what to say to her simple
statement. “So what are you doing here? Did you bring supplies for the bar?”

  “That?” Jennifer looked at the box. “It’s just some old newspapers soaked in whiskey. But I guess you could say it’s for the bar.”

  The casual statement fell like lead in the sudden silence. Zoe could think of only one purpose for spilling alcohol over newspaper.

  Chills crept over her. Jennifer showed no emotion either way about setting fire to the saloon. She simply didn’t care. A new crop of goose bumps broke out along Zoe’s spine.

  Jase was very still, but she saw his muscles tense. “I’d feel better if you took that box outside.”

  “I’m sure you would.” She reached for the gun Jase had left on the bar. “But I no longer care what you think.”

  The sharp edge in her voice left no doubt about her intentions. Zoe rose cautiously, standing on weak legs beside Jase. She felt slightly less vulnerable than when she was sitting, even though there was no chance she could outrun a blast from the shotgun. She hadn’t asked Jase what the shells were loaded with, but it didn’t matter. At this range, even a slug would be deadly in experienced hands. More likely, it was loaded with bird shot, which meant Jennifer’s aim wouldn’t have to be nearly as accurate for the scatter pattern to kill.

  Jennifer competently slid the bolt back to see if it was loaded. Jase eased in front of Zoe as he spoke. “I was about to put it away.”

  “That’s okay, I would just have to get it out again.” She eyed him casually. “I didn’t expect you to hang around here after your girlfriend was nearly killed.”

  The words sank in as everything else seemed to slow down. Jennifer knew about the shooting. Knew Zoe had been the target. Zoe doubted Jennifer spent her time listening to a police scanner.

  She glanced at Jase, fighting a sense of unreality, not wanting to believe what her brain was telling her. He didn’t move, but standing so close she saw what Jennifer probably missed, the momentary flinch, as if he’d absorbed a hard blow. The pain of betrayal.

  “You shot at Zoe?”