by B. J Daniels
“But is your brother safe?” He shook his head. “Do you have any idea where he has taken her?”
“He can’t take her to the ranch, because he knows I would arrest them both. I really don’t know where he’s gone, but I intend to find him.” Hopefully before anything bad happened to him.
VIOLET CAME TO IN THE DARK. Her eyes flew open, panic making her jerk and hit her head. She let out a frightened moan and for a moment thought she was a little girl again and that her grandmother had locked her in the old coal bin.
She shivered at the memory. The cobwebs and spiders. The smell of sour earth. The sound of mice chewing somewhere in the dank basement. She had fought so hard not to cry. To cry meant her grandmother would leave her in there longer.
Violet quickly quieted herself as she realized she wasn’t in the old coal bin, and her grandmother was dead—if not gone.
She could hear the hum of the tires on the highway over the roar of the big car’s engine, and she could smell the too-sweet scent of recently cleaned rental-car carpeting where she lay.
Still, it took her a few minutes before she could chase away thoughts of the coal bin. She rubbed her face into the carpet until it hurt, until she could no longer imagine the brush of cobwebs on her skin or hear the creak of her grandmother’s shoe soles on the other side of the darkness.
As Violet slowed her mind to catch her erratic thoughts, she knew two things. She was still alive, apparently none the worse for wear except for a splitting headache, and she hadn’t been dumped beside the road. Instead, he’d left her alive—and taken her with him in the trunk.
What worried her was why.
Had she been in his position, she would have made sure Violet Evans had breathed her last breath. But then, he didn’t know her, did he, she thought with what passed for a smile beneath the duct tape.
Violet began to make plans for her escape. The first step was getting the duct tape off her wrists. That was made more difficult since her wrists were taped behind her back.
She felt around in the trunk, only to discover it was empty. What tools there were must be in some hidden compartment—probably underneath her. She searched the interior of the trunk with her cold fingers, finding rope and more duct tape. Definitely not a good sign. She kept searching until she found a rough spot on the metal frame of the trunk.
Meticulously she began to work at the duct tape, letting her mind drift.
Ed had made a mistake keeping her alive. One he would live to regret.
DEDE WAS WAITING FOR HIM WHEN Lantry came back into the house with the two boxes from the pickup.
When she’d seen him on his cell phone, she’d thought about taking off again, but soon it would be dark and the snow was even deeper up here in the mountains. The days up here, so close to the Canadian border, were short, and she was exhausted both mentally and physically, a part of her ready to concede. And yet another part of her was so angry and disappointed in Lantry that she wanted to stay and fight.
“Guess what,” Lantry said as he closed the door behind him and set down the two boxes he’d brought in.
“I’m going back to jail. What a surprise since I saw you making the call.”
His face clouded. “I did call Shane, but not to turn you in. I asked him to give me twenty-four hours. I didn’t tell him where we are, and I sure as hell didn’t sell you out.”
Had she misjudged him again? “I thought—”
“I know what you thought. When are you going to start trusting me?”
“Maybe when you start trusting me,” she snapped back.
“Damn it, Dede,” he said closing his fingers over her upper arm and dragging her closer. “I’ve gone out on a limb for you.” He shook his head. “By now there’s an APB out on me as well as you. What more can I do to prove that I’m in this with you?”
He kissed her hard on the mouth, a punishing kiss that took her breath away. Then he practically flung her away from him, swearing under his breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he dragged off his Stetson. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
The kiss was all her idea this time. Not that she gave it any thought before she went up on tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his. Just like the first time, his mustache tickled, but only for an instant before he dragged her to him, encircling her with his strong arms.
Her lips parted, opening for him, and she felt the tip of his tongue sweep over her lower lip. It had been so long since she’d felt desire, felt it run like a fire through her veins, felt it blaze across her skin.
She would have been shocked had she thought about how badly she wanted this man, but at that moment all reason had left her. Her body ached with a need for this cowboy, and Dede threw all caution to the wind as he swept her up and carried her to the loft.
He took her to the bed and set her down to look into her eyes. “Dede?”
She knew what he was asking. Reaching down, she grabbed the hem of the sweater he’d taken for her at the Thompson’s ranchhouse and pulled it over her head, baring her breasts.
Lantry groaned and pulled her to him, his kiss as hot as her blood. She breathed in the scent of him as his hands cupped her behind.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down with her onto the cool fabric of the comforter. Her fingers worked at the snaps on his Western shirt, needing to feel his flesh against her own.
He wriggled out of his shirt, tossing it aside, his mouth coming back to hers. She felt his warm palm cup her breast; the rough pad of his thumb brushed the hard nub of her nipple, making her arch against him.
“Lantry,” she cried on a breath, her fingers going to the buttons on her jeans, then to his, both of them needing and wanting this human touch.
She couldn’t hold back the satisfied sound that came from her lips when they’d finally shed all their clothing and he took her in his arms. She touched his face and looked into his dark blue eyes, seeing her own desire reflected there as he made love to her.
The first time was fast and furious, both of them breathing hard, holding tight to each other.
LANTRY LAY SPENT ON THE strange bed, the naked, warm Dede in his arms. As he stared up at the ceiling, a smile on his lips, he tried to remember another time in his life when he’d felt like this. Never.
That alone should have scared the hell out of him. But he wasn’t a man who scared easily. He’d ridden wild horses, wrestled his fair share of steers to the ground and even rode mean bulls. He’d known his share of women, drunk his share of good wine and even better booze, and had more than his share of successes in life.
But he’d never known such euphoria as he did at this moment. Or such peace. He pulled Dede a little closer, loving the feel of her skin on his own, breathing in the musky scent of the two of them entwined.
He felt her stir, her breath tickling his neck. “You asked how all the Corbetts ended up in Montana,” he said quietly. “You still want to hear?”
She nodded and snuggled closer.
“Our mother died when we were young. Dad’s recently remarried. That’s how we all ended up in Montana. His wife, Kate, was from here. Trails West Ranch was her family’s. My mother was born on the ranch. Her father was the ranch manager.” He shrugged. “None of us planned to stay here, but then Dad found some letters my mom left. She wanted us to marry Montana girls. Mostly Dad wanted us close by. One of my brothers came up with this inane idea that we should make a marriage pact. Russell suggested drawing straws to see who would get married first.”
Dede started laughing. “You would never have agreed to such a thing. Not you. Don’t tell me that you—”
“I drew a damned straw just to shut them all up.” The truth was, he’d gotten caught up in the moment, wanting to do this for their mother.
“And now all but you are married or engaged?” Dede asked in disbelief.
“I’m not sure how it happened. I guess it made us all more open to marriage.” He realized Dede was staring at him.
&nbs
p; “Except for you,” she said, daring him to disagree.
“I still think marriage is a gamble,” he said, cupping her cheek in his large palm. “I’ve never even been tempted. Never met a woman who made me want to risk it.” He looked into her big blue eyes. But then, he’d never met anyone like Dede Chamberlain, had he? “Until—”
She pulled away, drawing the sheet around her as she got out of bed. “Don’t, Lantry,” she said, her back to him.
“Don’t tell you how I’m feeling?”
“No.” She turned to scowl at him. “I don’t trust your feelings. Not right now. It’s too soon.” She glanced toward the living room. “We don’t know what’s in that box down there, and I think we’re both afraid to look.”
He wanted to pour his heart out to her, but he knew she was right. And for a while he’d forgotten that she was still in love with her ex-husband.
Also there was that damned box with the boat in it—and whatever might or might not be inside.
Even if there was no explosive device inside that boat, Lantry wasn’t fool enough to think that whatever was in there couldn’t blow up. He and Dede might never make this mess right again.
Dede looked as worried as he felt. Still, he couldn’t help the way he felt about her. He didn’t want this to end, damn it. And he was scared that whatever was in that box was going to destroy the two of them.
“If we survive this—”
“When we survive this,” he said, grabbing hold of the edge of the sheet and jerking it to free her wonderful naked body. He reached for her hand and pulled her back into bed, back to him, and then he made love to her slowly, deliberately, passionately as snow began to fall outside and the light began to fade to black.
It wasn’t until later, when they lay in the bed listening to the snow pelting the window, that Lantry knew they couldn’t put it off any longer.
It was time to find out what the hell Frank Chamberlain had put into that boat. Something so valuable that it had cost him his life and, just having it, could cost them theirs, as well.
Chapter Eleven
Lantry kissed Dede on the top of the head. Then, releasing her, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and dressed.
He could see the cold darkness of the evening through the curtainless windows downstairs. Earlier, when he’d gone out to call his brother, he’d heard a car go by. He’d waited to make sure it hadn’t stopped. It hadn’t.
Now he felt exposed. This is what it felt like being on the run.
Downstairs, he moved the two boxes into the living room, then built a fire in the fireplace with the scrap wood lying around.
Once the fire caught, he turned to the boxes, praying that whatever Frank had hidden in the boat would help them out of this mess.
He didn’t even want to think about the laws the two of them had broken or the trouble they were in. The only way out was to find out the truth, expose the men involved and put an end to this. Then he would deal with the legal problems they would be facing.
At least if he could prove the danger Dede had been in, he believed he could clear her. That was his main concern as he pulled the box over in front of the fireplace and stopped to listen.
He could hear Dede in the shower. As he listened closer, he heard her singing. He got up and walked down the hall to stand outside the bathroom door. She had a beautiful voice. He remembered something. A photograph that had fallen out of Frank’s wallet during one of their meetings about the divorce proceedings.
Lantry had picked it up from the floor where it had dropped and handed it back to Frank, who’d seemed flustered. But not before he’d seen the woman in the snapshot. She’d been playing a guitar and singing. Lantry had only gotten a glimpse of her. A young woman, college-aged, with long reddish-blond hair and big blue eyes.
With a jolt, he realized the photograph had been of Dede. What made his heart ache was the realization that Frank Chamberlain had hung on to a photo of the woman he was divorcing. Frank had never stopped loving Dede.
And Dede had never stopped loving him.
Stepping away from the door, Lantry went back to the box waiting for him. The present Frank had given him. Now more than ever, Lantry wanted to know what was inside. Taking out his pocket knife, he began to open the box.
He heard the shower shut off, the singing stop. He pulled back the cardboard flaps.
As he removed the packing material on top, Lantry was taken aback by the sight of what appeared to be a small replica of a wooden boat from the 1930s or 1940s.
It lay in a nest of packing material, the mahogany wood lightly varnished and glowing warmly. The boat was perfect in every detail.
Looking up, he saw Dede come into the room. She stopped and hugged herself as she watched him lift out the boat.
“It’s beautiful,” he said in awe as he ran his fingers along the smoothly lacquered mahogany.
Dede nodded but said nothing.
Lantry held the boat up to the light. As he did, he heard something shift inside the hull. He felt his heart kick up a beat.
He glanced at Dede. Her eyes had filled with tears. Frank had let her down in so many ways. Would he let her down even more when they discovered what was inside the boat?
But as he inspected the boat, he could find no way to open it to get inside. “Dede, is there a secret compartment or door to get inside the hull?”
She seemed to hesitate, then came over and knelt down on the floor next to him. Her fingers trembled as she touched the slick surface of the boat, running her fingertips along the gunnels. She brushed over one of the tiny cleats, and a side panel in the boat popped open to reveal a compartment inside.
Lantry heard her let out a small sigh as she drew back her hand and looked over at him. He could almost see her hold her breath as he reached inside to work out a small padded bundle the size of his fist.
Glancing at Dede, he took a breath, then carefully began to unwrap it. Just as he’d feared. A nest of diamonds and gold appeared.
As he picked up one end, the diamond necklace unwound itself to snake downward in a long, glittering rope.
“So that was it,” Dede said as their gazes met. “A simple case of greed.” She stood, dusting off her pants as she went to warm herself in front of the fire. “I guess that explains why Ed and Claude are after us. Just as I feared. Frank double-crossed them and involved us.”
It certainly looked that way. He could see that Dede was upset. Like him, she’d been hoping Frank had left a letter or document explaining what he’d done to her and why. Something that could be used to free her from the mental hospital, free her from Frank and the past.
Instead, all Frank had left was proof of his involvement in the Fallon burglary.
This explained what Ed and Claude were after. It didn’t seem enough. Frank had lost his life for this. How could he have divorced and committed his wife for something this cold to the touch? That didn’t jibe with the photograph Frank had kept in his wallet and Lantry’s belief that the man had loved his wife.
While the necklace proved that Frank was involved in the burglary of the home of Dr. Eric and Tamara Fallon, it provided no insight into why Frank had given up everything for this. He’d been a wealthy man. What was another million or so dollars?
Apparently enough that, like Dede said, he’d double-crossed his partners in crime and ultimately lost everything.
Lantry started to put down the necklace, sickened by the thought of what Frank had done, when the stones caught the light of the fire. He froze.
ED HAD PARKED DOWN THE ROAD IN a wide spot that had been plowed for snowmobile trailers. He could see where the trucks and trailers had parked, where the snowmobiles had been unloaded and run through the woods, where the riders had shared a few beers and some smokes before leaving.
The parking area was empty now except for a few cigarette butts and a six-pack of crushed beer cans.
Ed had settled in to wait for darkness, dozing off for a while to wake to the gunmetal-g
ray sky. He knew at once that something had awakened him and looked around, thinking it was a snowmobiler.
The car moved, and he remembered with a start that he still had Violet Evans locked in his trunk.
He got out of the car and stepped back to the trunk, standing in the growing darkness of the winter night. The sky reflected the steel blue onto the snow, casting the snow-covered land in an eerie light.
As he stood outside his frost-coated rental car, Ed had never felt more alone—even with Violet just inches away in the trunk. Frank was gone. So was Claude. The thought wrenched at his heart. Frank had gotten what he deserved, but not Claude.
Emptiness and loneliness filled him, amplified by the desolate frozen landscape.
One clear thought worked its way through his grief. He should have killed Violet. He couldn’t remember now why he’d kept her alive. The vehicle coming up the road. That’s why he hadn’t taken the time to end it right there in the middle of the highway. He’d always planned on disposing of her body. He just wished that he had killed her when he’d had the chance earlier rather than wait.
The cold made his movements slow and clumsy, his mind seemingly just as sluggish. He shuddered from the cold, stirring himself into action. Finish this.
In the pale cold light he bent down and inserted the key into the trunk lock, then listened. Violet hadn’t moved for some time now. No sound emerged from inside. Maybe she’d done him a favor and succumbed to asphyxiation.
He hadn’t even thought about whether there was enough air in the trunk for her. With the tape across her mouth…
He turned the key. The trunk lid yawned open, and he had to squint, leaning in to see her in the tomblike, shadow-filled hole.
The blow took him completely by surprise. She seemed to spring out, leaping at him, the thick roll of duct tape catching the eerie winter light before it connected with his skull, stunning him.
