“Relax,” Neil said. “I didn’t shoot anybody. Let’s go!”
He hurried them up the street with more barked orders and shoving. The wind was kicking up a dust storm. A few large drops of icy rain splatted onto Kent’s head—just the beginning of what this storm was about to do. He hadn’t exaggerated the danger of taking off in this.
They reached the chopper, and Neil dug a key out of his pocket. “Get this thing going,” he said with a smirk, handing it to Kent.
Seething rebellion concealed beneath slumped shoulders, Kent took the key. He climbed into the bird, jammed his helmet onto his head and began pre-flight procedure. A rumble behind him signaled the opening of the cargo door. Neil and his gun climbed into the open cargo area, leaving Lauren hugging herself in the rain.
“Get in very slowly and carefully,” their captor told her. “And you,” he nodded toward Kent, “stick to business. I’ll shoot her dead and wound you if you try anything.”
Kent abandoned the pre-flight checklist. Normal procedure wasn’t going to matter anyway. As Lauren climbed inside, he started the rotors.
“Shut that door and let’s get going,” Neil snapped.
“What about our helmets?” Lauren protested. “Shouldn’t we put those on?”
Kent hid a grin. Good girl. She was subtly digging in her heels with that stalling tactic again. He ramped up the rotor speed.
“Give me a break!” their captor snarled. “I’ve got a loaded gun pointed in your direction, and you’re worried about a helmet? Shut the door. You’re letting the rain in.”
Kent watched out of the corner of his eye as Lauren slowly turned and reached for the door handle.
Now!
At his abrupt jerk on the controls, the chopper leaped from the earth. He yanked the stick sideways, and Lauren tumbled out of the aircraft with a high-pitched yelp. Kent hauled the stick back, sending the bird into a steep climb even as a sharp report from the Beretta deafened his ears.
Sudden pain seared through Kent’s shoulder as he struggled for control of the wildly bucking helicopter. The world spun in crazy circles, and blackness fought to claim him.
FOURTEEN
Lauren sprawled facedown in the muck, gasping for breath. Sharp fingernails of ice stabbed her shivering body. What? Who? Oh, that was only the rain. Her mind scrambled to make sense of what had just happened.
Kent had dumped her out of the chopper at the same instant as he took off! Where was he?
She scrambled to her feet, gazing upward, oblivious to the raindrops that pelted her eyeballs. There! About a flagpole’s height above the earth, the helicopter dipped and slewed crazily in the murky sky. The thunder of the rotors blended with the roar of the storm. Her fist went to her mouth as the aircraft went into a spin. She bit down as it plunged to the ground and lay churning on its side.
Without a second thought, Lauren raced toward the crash site. The rotors screamed as they fought earth’s iron grip. One broke off and flew into the murk. Another snapped, and Lauren ducked as it whipped past her. The remaining two gave up in a gasp of smoke as the motor burned out.
Crying Kent’s name, she reached the helicopter and yanked the pilot’s door open. He dangled in his seat belt, helmeted head slumped, dark blood soaking his shoulder. Kent groaned. Thank you, God! He was alive.
She unzipped his bomber jacket and ripped aside the layered shirts under it to expose his left shoulder. A through-and-through bullet wound near the clavicle spat a narrow trickle of blood, not a gushing stream. So far, so good. The bullet appeared to have missed the major arteries in this area of the body, though she couldn’t rule out internal bleeding. She unsnapped his helmet, tossed it to the side and examined his mouth and nose. No sign of bloody froth, which indicated that the bullet had also missed the lung. Emergency intervention could be delayed until they reached shelter.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” she murmured as she worked at the stubborn seat belt from her awkward access to the tilted helicopter. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’m here to take care of you.”
Kent groaned and lifted his head. Bleary gray eyes blinked at her.
“We’ve got to get you back to the mercantile and my first-aid kit,” she told him.
“Neil?” he croaked.
“I don’t care about him as long as he’s not shooting at us.”
Lauren pulled herself up on the tilted landing gear to peer deeper into the aircraft. The murderous crook’s body lay limp across the wheeled cart in the cargo bay. His right arm was twisted at an awkward angle. The Beretta was nowhere in evidence.
She sniffed. “If he’s alive, he won’t be firing a gun anytime soon.”
Kent let out a pained chuckle. “This is the first time I’ve glimpsed the ruthless side of Lauren. Remind me not to get too carried away antagonizing you.”
“That part of me is reserved for dirty thugs who try to kill my mom and the man I—well, the man I think I—love.” There, she’d said it. Terrifying, exhilarating words.
“Love? I like that.” Kent’s grin was loopy as she helped him half climb, half fall out of the helicopter into the freezing rain.
“Don’t go all delusional now.” She slung his good arm over her shoulders. “By the time we get you back to town, you won’t remember a thing I said.”
“I’ll remember.”
Together, they made slow but steady progress. Kent seemed to be doing his best, putting one foot in front of the other, but he was no lightweight and leaned heavily on her for support. For one of the few times in her life, Lauren gave thanks for her sturdy athlete’s body, rather than the dainty build a lot of men seemed to prefer.
They reached the livery stable and halted for a breather. Kent took his arm from around her and propped himself against the side of the building, eyes closed. Lauren took another look at his wound. No change, but he was definitely white around the lips and could be going into shock, especially with the freezing wet to contend with.
“I think we need to get you inside the stable,” she told him. “I’ll run to the mercantile, free the other folks, and get Cliff to help me bring the transport wagon back with blankets and my kit.”
It was a testimony to the level of Kent’s pain that he nodded his head. Suddenly, he straightened and stared into the storm in the direction of the mercantile that was barely visible through the driving rain.
“Smoke,” he said through gritted teeth.
Lauren turned her head away from the rain and sniffed the air. “Smoke!” she echoed. Way more of it than could possibly be coming from the stove chimney.
The gun blast and sound of breaking glass as they left the mercantile played through her memory. Chills coursed up her spine. That vile monster had shot the kerosene lamp! Those old planks would go up like a torch. Even with the pouring rain outside, by now every last person in the mercantile could have burned alive or perished from smoke inhalation.
Lauren broke from Kent at a dead run. Visions of Rolly’s last flaming moments tortured her mind. Not her mother! Not those other innocent people! Even Dirk didn’t deserve to go that way!
She splashed to a halt in front of the mercantile. Tongues of fire shot out the roof of the building, hissing and spitting at the waves of falling water that fought to drown it.
“Motherrrr!” she shrieked and headed for the door.
A strong arm snaked around her and clasped her to a solid body. “It’s too late,” Kent’s voice spoke in her ear. “There’s nothing we can do.”
With an eerie howl like a dying thing, the roof collapsed, and the building became a smoldering wreck. Here and there tongues of fire sought to defy the rain, but it was a losing battle. Lauren’s knees buckled, and she hit the mud, overwhelmed with wrenching sobs.
“Laurennn!” Someone materialized from the murky weather, walking toward them.
“Mom?”
“Nina?”
Lauren’s amazed identification mingled with Kent’s.
“Oh, my darling daughter!” Her mother knelt and gathered Lauren into her arms. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Weeping into her mother’s sodden shoulder, Lauren shook her head. “I thought I’d lost you!”
“We’re all in the transport wagon.”
Lauren lifted her head. “But how did you escape the mercantile?”
“Let’s get out of the rain before explanation time.”
Lauren heaved to her feet, casting her eyes around for Kent. She found him sprawled on his back in the mud, unmoving. Her stomach clenched as the medical truth seized her.
Oh, God, You wouldn’t be so cruel, would You? Finally, she’d discovered a man she could trust with her heart, and now this.
Between hypothermia and shock, if the cavalry didn’t arrive very soon, Trouble Creek might yet see another death.
* * *
Kent struggled to consciousness in fits and starts, as if he were climbing on his hands and knees up a mountain of mud that stood between him and the sunlight. Gradually, laboriously, he’d near the peak, the light on the other side so close he could feel it. Voices—some familiar, some not—would tease his ears, and then he’d slide down again into deep darkness and silence.
At last he surged over the top of the mud mountain and arrived at a single, stunning awareness. He was not cold. In fact, he was toasty warm and cushioned on a soft, accommodating mattress. Not all was comfort, though. Heat throbbed in his shoulder, and a mild headache danced around his consciousness like a yappy, little dog, more annoyance than attention-grabber.
His eyelids parted, and he squinted up at a beautiful sight. Seated by his bed, Lauren smiled down at him. Her hair was loose, softly framing her face in an auburn cloud. The pale, gaunt quality of her skin had given way to the healthy glow of someone who was warm, hydrated and well-fed.
“How are you feeling, big guy?” Concern clouded those vivid jade eyes as both her hands squeezed one of his.
“Hungry.” A low growl from his stomach underscored his raspy word. “And thirsty.”
Lauren laughed, a glorious sound. “I think I can do something about the thirsty part.”
She retrieved a lidded container and put a straw to his lips. Cool, fresh water bathed his parched tongue and throat.
“Where are we?” The words came out a little less rough.
“Summerlin Hospital in Las Vegas. We’ve been here for nearly thirty-six hours. You were shot, remember?”
“It’s a memory I could do without, but the icy rain was worse.” He shuddered, sending a twinge through his shoulder.
“I was terrified I was going to lose you.” A shadow crossed her face. “By the time the emergency rescue team arrived, your body temperature had fallen dangerously low. If not for that ratty old leather bomber jacket that kept your torso relatively dry, I don’t know if you would have made it. Not with the blood loss and trauma from your wound on top of hypothermia.”
“I don’t suppose you saved that ratty old jacket. I’m sort of fond of it.”
“That old thing? It had through-and-through bullet holes in it and the lining was soaked in blood. What do you think?”
Kent looked away and heaved out a breath. He’d get over the loss—eventually. A giggle from Lauren brought his head around.
He narrowed his eyes. “I take it you’re teasing me?” He’d intended to sound fierce, but the question came out pitifully hopeful.
She tweaked his nose and grinned. “You can thank my mother. She explained to me about men’s old, comfortable clothing. We’re having it dry-cleaned and refurbished. Frankly, I’d be willing to bronze the thing and mount it on a pedestal for saving your life.”
His face eased into an answering grin. “I’m pretty sure you had something to do with keeping me among the living.”
“I wish I could have done more, but I didn’t have much to work with. When we got to the hospital, you needed a bit of surgical repair on your scapula and rotator cuff, but the doc says with therapy you’ll completely recover. The medical staff took great care of you—well, all of us—and here we are, safe and sound.”
“Everyone?”
Lauren’s upper lip curled back. “All but the bad guys.” She paused with a frown. “No, actually, Neil aka Marlin aka aliases-into-infinity is still with us, but he’s in bad shape. They think he’ll pull through, but his spine was injured in the helicopter crash. It’s almost certain he’ll never walk again.” Her gaze darkened. “To be honest, I sometimes struggle with the urge to storm past the federal agents guarding his hospital room and throttle him, but then I remind myself that spending the rest of his life behind bars in a wheelchair is probably perfect justice for the misery he’s caused to so many—my mother not least of all.”
Kent squeezed her hand. “How is Nina doing?”
“Not so good emotionally. Physically she’s fine, and she’s definitely the heroine of the hour with the arbitrage executives.”
“The fire!”
Lauren nodded. “Remember that board full of nails you threw on the floor? She snagged it with her feet and punctured off her bonds with one of the nails. Then she helped the others get loose, and they all helped each other get out of the mercantile before the fire overcame them.”
“She is a heroine.”
“Not in her own eyes. She’s still beating herself up for marrying a charming crook who makes Al Capone look like an upstanding citizen. I’ve had a few chats with Assistant Special Agent in Charge Rolanda Romero. She’s shed light on a few things, but not overmuch. The feds can be pretty tight-lipped.”
Kent grimaced. “Not sure I really want the gory details, but go on.”
Lauren looked away and pursed her lips, as if she was gathering herself for a distasteful task. “Okay, here goes. The mountain man we encountered has a rap sheet a mile long. No big surprise, but now that the FBI has linked Marlin Barrington to his cousin Roland Cullen, they’ve figured out Marlin started life as Raymond Cullen. Rolly and Ray spent their formative years in neighboring tumbledown trailers in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. No fathers in the picture. Bitter, abusive mothers. Eventually, they both wound up in the foster care system. Rolly grew up to become a thug, everything from a leg-breaker for loan sharks to petty drug dealer, but he had a smart aleck mouth and made one of the big-league players angry. The guy relieved Rolly of his tongue. After that, Rolly retreated from society to the mountaineer lifestyle he knew well.
“Ray, on the other hand, due to near genius intellect, came steadily up in the world. He planned and carried out heists and cons with ever greater proficiency and profits. But there was always a lot of angry thug in him, too. Plenty of dead bodies along the trail. The authorities would close in, and he’d disappear and start in somewhere else as someone else. At some point, he learned to fit in with the rich and famous, invented his own pedigree and proceeded to scam in the millions, not mere thousands. Some of the best and brightest in the so-called ‘upper crust’ fell prey to his charismatic genius for con games.”
Kent let out a low whistle. “Then your mom is in good company. She shouldn’t feel so much the fool.”
Lauren wrinkled her nose. “The thing is, in his Marlin persona, he was genuinely good to my mother—until he decided killing her was in his best interest. Apparently, he didn’t want to leave anyone behind who could potentially have a clue about where he might be hiding if the feds didn’t buy his faked death in the airplane crash. Mom might be too trusting where charming men are concerned, but she’s intelligent and observant. Too dangerous to just dump and run.”
Heat coiled in Kent’s middle. “He must have thought the same about you.”
Lauren shrugged one shoulder. “He knew I held him in no esteem. His ego was insulted. Offing me was gravy.”
“And the other passengers were collateral damage?”
“Richard Engle, yes. He’s completely innocent. And, by the way, his knee has been surgically repaired, and he should recover fully. Cliff is in the clear, too, even though he worked for Peerless One. He’s a Christian man with solid morals. But for Dirk and Phil there’s good news and bad news. Marlin needed to eliminate them because they were in on the stock fraud scheme with him. He’s not one to leave witnesses behind.”
“So they survived but they’re going to prison?”
“For a little while. That’s the good news part. Since they’ve agreed to testify against Marlin—nail him but good in court—they’ll receive lighter sentences.”
“I guess you never know about people. Phil was such a trouper under dire conditions.”
“I think he surprised himself. Found new depths he didn’t know he had. I’ve visited him, and he apologized for his part in the arbitrage scam that led to Marlin’s decision to sabotage your plane. He has his tale of woe and desperation as to why he got involved in something illegal at the office.”
Kent’s heart squeezed, and he turned his gaze toward the stark white wall.
“You’re thinking about Mags?” Lauren’s question was asked gently, but it cut like a knife.
He nodded. “She had her own tale of woe and desperation. Bitter divorce, nasty car accident, chronic pain, addiction to prescription drugs, but to agree to kill us all...” His voice faded away. “It makes you question who you can trust.”
Lauren cupped his cheek and gently turned his face toward her. “You’ve changed my thinking about trust and about faith. If we don’t hang on to those things—especially trust and faith in God—any of us could wind up doing what these people have done.”
Kent covered her hand with his. “You’re a wise woman, you know that? Compassionate, brave and strong. I thank God we met.”
Rocky Mountain Secrets: Rocky Mountain Sabotage ; Rocky Mountain Pursuit Page 17
