by Cassie Miles
“He must be Baron’s associate. They’re part of the same group that owns the house. And it sounds like he intends to commit insurance fraud with Baron’s help.”
“Right on both counts, partner.”
She shook her head. “I’m not your partner in crime. Or crime solving. I’m not cut out for this undercover life.”
“It’s a gift,” he said.
“Is it, Mister Bogart?”
“That’s my undercover name. Cole Jeremy McClure is the name on my birth certificate.”
“You didn’t lie to me.” She snuggled down beside him. Her flesh molded to his. “That makes me feel good.”
He pulled her close. There were a number of things he ought to be thinking about: logistical problems in driving through another damn blizzard to Granby at night and the usefulness of calling Waxman with the new information about Xavier Romero. But his brain was clouded by her nearness. The scent of her body made him stupid. And happy.
He brushed his lips across her forehead and looked into her eyes. “How do you feel about making love sans condom?”
“I’m for it,” she said.
“What if you get pregnant?”
“This is something I never thought I’d hear myself say. Never. Do you understand? Never.”
“I get it.”
“But the truth is that I wouldn’t mind getting pregnant. At this point in my life, I’m ready to have a baby.”
His heart made a loud thud. His pulse stopped. He was lying naked with a woman who wanted a baby. Danger, danger, danger. “Excuse me?”
She laughed. “I’ve never seen the blood drain from someone’s face so fast. Are you going into shock? Should I start CPR?”
“I’m cool.”
“If I should happen to get pregnant, I wouldn’t saddle you with any responsibilities. Being a single mom isn’t my first choice. But I’m in my thirties, and I want kids. I love kids. And it’s entirely possible that I’m not cut out for the whole marriage thing.”
“Marriage?” He choked out the word. Was she trying to give him a heart attack?
“Don’t worry, Cole. I’m not looking for a relationship with you. How could I? You live in California. And you have an incredibly dangerous job. Frankly, I wouldn’t marry you on a bet.”
His mood swung one hundred and eighty degrees. Because she said she’d never marry him, he had an urge to propose. “Are you giving me a preemptive rejection?”
“Absolutely. Long-distance relationships hardly ever work. And your undercover work scares me.”
“Doesn’t seem fair,” he muttered.
“Don’t feel bad. I consider you to be an excellent sperm donor. You’re intelligent, and you seem to be healthy. There aren’t any weird genetic diseases lurking around in your DNA, are there?”
“Not that I know of.”
She slipped her fingertips down his chest. “I don’t think we need to worry about not having a condom.”
When he kissed her, he was thinking of more than her slim, supple body. In his mind, he visualized a home with Rachel. She’d be wearing his grandmother’s wedding ring and holding his baby in her arms. Not a typical fantasy for making love. But he found the thought of being with her—long-term and committed—to be intensely arousing.
Chapter Fourteen
Though Rachel didn’t want to get dressed, she shoved her arms into her sleeves and pulled on her turtleneck. Hours had passed since they’d entered the windowless office behind the ice cream parlor, but the time had gone faster than the blink of an eye. She wished these moments could stretch into days, months, years.
In a way, it felt like she’d known Cole forever. There was something so familiar about him. In spite of being opposites, they were well-matched, like a hook and an eye. A bolt and a screw. She chuckled to herself. Best not to think about screws or she’d never get her clothes on.
Their passion was wild. It was crazy. And she knew better. She was an adult—a thirtysomething woman who had her life on track. Why had she abandoned all restraint? Was it the intensity of being chased? Did she cling to him because she was terrified that she wouldn’t survive this ordeal?
Reluctantly, she zipped her jeans. Maybe the answer was Cole himself. He was different from all the other bad boys she’d known. True, he had an edge. The man earned his living by deception. But he also made her laugh. And he was capable of incredible tenderness.
He smacked her butt and said, “Get your jacket on. If it’s not snowing too hard, we need to get on the road.”
She was praying for a blizzard. “I don’t want to go.”
He yanked her into his arms and held her tightly against him. She liked the rough-and-ready way he handled her. He treated her as an equal, not a porcelain figurine that might shatter and break.
“Rachel, beautiful Rachel.” His voice dropped to a low, intimate level. “If we had a choice, I’d keep you here forever. I’d burn your clothes so you could never get dressed.”
The way she’d burned motorcycle man’s leather jacket? “Do you ride motorcycles?”
“Only Harleys.”
“Figures.”
Pulling away from him, she shrugged into her parka. The superwarm coat felt empty without the added burden of Goldie snuggled against her chest. “Do you think Pearl is okay?”
“We checked with her an hour ago. She was at her friend’s condo, feeding the baby.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He nodded. “It’s going to be a long time before she’s okay. She lost a daughter and gained a granddaughter. In the space of a day, her whole life got turned upside down.”
Like mine. “I’m dressed. What’s next?”
“Come with me.” He took her hand. “I’m not going to turn on any lights. Somebody might notice.”
A shiver trickled down her spine. “Do you think they’re watching?”
“Don’t know.”
They left the office, and he closed the door behind them. For a moment, they stood in the kitchen area and waited for their eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. The empty area with stainless steel fixtures felt cold, even with her parka. She held Cole’s hand as he moved toward the front of the shop.
The glow from a streetlight fell softly through the wide, snow-splattered front windows. They circled the serving counter and crossed the white tile floor until they stood at the glass, looking out.
Though it was only nine o’clock, there was no traffic on the main street running through Grand Lake. Snow piled up three feet high at the curb, and a car parked at the side of the road was completely buried. The sidewalk had been cleared enough that two people could walk abreast. On the opposite side of the street, the storefronts were all dark. The town had closed down early.
The light snowfall disappointed her. She’d been hoping for a raging storm that would force them to cancel their plan.
“Looks peaceful,” Cole said.
“These blizzards can be real deceptive. I vote to stay here until morning.”
He stepped behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. She leaned back against his chest, feeling cozy and protected in his embrace.
“It’s pretty,” he said. “Maybe your mountains aren’t so bad, after all.”
She closed her eyes and thought about spending time with him in a ski lodge with paneled walls, a fireplace and a mug of hot buttered rum. “There’s nothing as beautiful as a blue sky day with the sun sparkling on champagne powder snow.”
“A full moon on a white, sandy beach,” he said.
“Mountain streams.”
“Palm trees waving in the breeze.” He hugged her. “When this is over, I want to take you to California. You can vacation with me.”
Her heart took a happy little leap. He wants to spend more time with me. Immediately, she pushed the thought aside, not wanting to get her hopes up. “You’re just trying to convince me that we should make this drive tonight.”
“We’ll exit through the back. Then we’ll head
down the street to the garage behind Pearl’s house.” He kissed the top of her head. “If everything goes well, this could be over in a matter of hours.”
With a sigh, she gave in and followed him through the door at the front of the ice cream parlor into the darkness of the kitchen area.
Cole came to a sudden halt. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she sensed his movement as he raised his gun.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“The green light on the alarm box is off.”
“It must be a malfunction.”
“Let’s hope so.”
They hadn’t heard the alarm go off. Though she couldn’t see far into the darkness, she surely would have sensed the presence of another person. “There’s nobody else in here.”
“It’s too dark back here,” he muttered. “We’ll go out the front entrance.”
She turned and retraced her steps. He stayed with her, close enough that she felt his arm brush against hers. As she reached the open doorway, the light through the front windows gave her more visibility. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Cole facing backward, toward the kitchen.
When she passed the doorway, she looked toward the front counter to her right. And she froze. The dark silhouette of a huge broad-shouldered figure stood out against the pale pastel of the wall.
His arms flung wide. “He-e-e-re’s Frankie.”
He charged toward her, more stumbling than deliberate. His hands slid under her arms and he lifted her off her feet. His forward momentum carried her beyond the counter toward the far wall.
She kicked hard. Her foot tangled with his legs, and she could feel him losing his balance. If he fell, he’d land on top of her with his full weight. He’d crush her.
The instant her boots touched the floor, she threw her weight toward his left. His left shoulder was the one that was injured—the weaker shoulder. The bullet was still in there, probably turning septic.
Frank crashed to the floor, pinning her legs. She struggled to free herself. Frank sat straight up, grabbed her arm and yanked her around so she was sitting in front of him on the floor. Light reflected off the barrel of his gun.
“Don’t move,” he said. “Neither one of you.”
Cole stood only a few feet from them, looking down. His gun aimed at Frank’s forehead. “Let her go.”
“Yeah? Then you’ll drill a hole in my head?”
“If I wanted to kill you,” Cole said, “I would have done it back at the cabin.”
“You left me there.” He coughed. Phlegm rattled in his throat. “Left me to die.”
His stench—stale sweat, blood and grit—turned her stomach. A feverish heat emanated from him, and he was shaking. It was clear to her that he was feeling the effects of the gunshot wounds, loss of blood, shock and exposure. He was weakened and losing control. That made him even more dangerous.
Keeping the fear from her voice, she said, “You need a doctor, Frank.”
“I need for you to shut the hell up.” He pressed the nose of his gun against her temple. “I can’t see a damn thing in here. Turn on the lights, Cole.”
“Will the light be a signal for your friends? The murderers you hooked up with at the cabin?”
“I ditched those guys as soon as I got into town.”
A spasm shook Frank’s body. His gun hand twitched. She was afraid he might kill her by accident. Rachel said, “Do as he says.”
“That’s right,” Frank growled. “I’m in charge.”
Cole backed up a few paces, heading toward the light switch by the door. “How did you find us?”
“I met Penny’s mom in Black Hawk at the casino. Pearl Richards. She said she was living in Grand Lake. I asked around. Found her house. Went inside. And then...I don’t remember. It was warm. Must have gone to sleep.”
His grip on consciousness was fading. She wanted to keep him calm and placated. “Finding Pearl was smart, Frank. Why don’t you put the gun down and—”
“I’m a hell of a lot smarter than you know,” he said. “Ask Cole. I’m good with electronics. Disconnected the alarm to this place. No problem.”
“Why did you come here? To the ice cream parlor?”
“Found a business card. I got inside. Easy does it. Then I got dizzy. Shhhhh.” He slurred, “Had to s-s-s-sleep.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw the gun drooping in his hand. He was on the verge of passing out.
“Let me bring you something to drink,” she said gently. “Something nice and cool. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
His body stiffened as he forced himself awake. “Turn on the damn lights.”
When Cole flicked the switch, light flooded the room. The cheerful, pastel décor mocked the hopelessness of her situation. Two men with guns faced each other, and she was in the middle.
Frank shook her arm and ordered her to stand up. “Slow. Move real slow.”
She was tempted to bolt. Frank was suffering; his reactions would be slowed. She remembered what Cole had told her earlier. If attacked, hide behind the counter.
“Move,” Frank barked.
She did as he said, and he maneuvered into position behind her, using her as a shield. He held her left arm to keep her from running. His gun jabbed her ribs.
When she flinched, Cole reacted. His movements were slight, not enough to spook Frank. But she saw the tension in his jaw and noticed that he had moved a few inches closer.
Like her, he kept his tone level and calm. “You don’t want to hurt Rachel. She’s the one who’s going to lead you to all that money.”
“Penny sent the cash here to her mom,” Frank said. “It’s close. I can smell it.”
“You’re wrong,” she said. “But I’m sure you already know that. You must have searched in the house before you came here.”
“Where is it?”
She looked toward Cole, who gave her a nod. Then she said, “Penny sent the money to a friend in Granby. We have to drive to get there.”
“If you’re lying, I’ll kill you.” He poked her again. “Cole, put your gun on the floor and step back.”
She could guess what would happen if Cole disarmed himself. Frank was desperate, half crazed. He thought he needed her to lead him to the money, but he had no further use for anyone else. He’d shoot Cole in a minute.
She couldn’t stop herself from crying out. “No, Cole. Don’t do it.”
Frank dragged her by the arm. He edged toward the windows as though he was planning to walk out the front door. Was it unlocked? Had he entered through that door?
“Listen to me, Frank. We’ll take you with us,” Cole said. “We’ll drive together and take you to the money.”
“Drop your weapon. Or I’ll shoot her in the gut.”
“You need her. She’s the only one who—”
“Drop it.”
Cole placed his gun on the floor.
“That’s real good,” Frank said. “Kick it over here.”
She watched in horror as the automatic weapon slid across the white tile floor into the corner under the painting of the dancing lavender bear in a tutu. This shouldn’t be happening. Not here. Lily Belle’s Ice Cream Parlor wasn’t the place for a showdown.
With a satisfied grunt, Frank pulled the gun away from her side and aimed at Cole. Though his hand wobbled, he couldn’t miss from this distance.
She didn’t plan her move. All Rachel knew was that she had to do something. She bent forward from the waist. Before Frank could yank her back into an upright position, she flung her head back as hard as she could. Her skull banged against Frank’s wounded left shoulder.
He screamed in pain. His grip on her arm released.
She made a frantic dash.
Chapter Fifteen
The gutsy move by Rachel gave Cole the chance he needed.
There wasn’t time to reach his gun. Every second counted. He took two quick steps and launched himself in a diving tackle. His shoulder hit the solid mass of Frank’s chest, an
d the big man went down with a thud. Still, he managed to fire two shots. He didn’t lose his grip on the weapon.
On the floor, Cole struggled for the gun. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rachel dive across the countertop. She was out of sight. Out of range. Good.
With a yell and a ferocious surge, Frank threw Cole off him and staggered to his feet. He braced his legs, wide apart. His shoulders hunched as he groped the empty air. He squinted. His eyes seemed unable to focus. Like a wounded beast, he swung his long arms, waving the gun back and forth.
Cole squared off with him. A one-two combination to the gut drove Frank backward. Cole flicked a stinging blow to the center of Frank’s face, snapping his head back.
His arms flew wide. His fingers loosened. The gun clattered to the floor. This fight was all but over.
Frigid air rushed into the ice cream parlor as the front door opened. A man with a gun entered. Frank had brought backup, and Cole couldn’t handle two of them.
Following Rachel’s example, he pivoted and leaped across the soda fountain counter, where he found her crouched on the floor in a tight little ball. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “You?”
“Been better.”
Three gun shots erupted.
Cole peered over the edge of the counter. Frank sprawled on the floor. His blood splattered the white tile floor.
The gunman flipped back the hood of his parka and said, “It’s over. You can come out.”
Agent Wayne Prescott.
Slowly, Cole stood. When he’d been looking down the barrel of Frank’s gun, he felt less threatened than when Prescott came toward him and extended his hand. There was every reason to believe that this man had betrayed him and put him in lethal danger. Should he shake that hand? Why not just stick his arm down a wood chipper?
“Agent McClure,” Prescott said, “you’re a hard man to find.”
“You’ve got me now.” There was no choice but to play nice. He reached across the soda fountain counter and gripped the traitor’s hand. In spite of his years as an undercover operative, he couldn’t force himself to return Prescott’s smile. “Rachel, this is Agent Wayne Prescott.”
