Rocky Mountain Maneuvers

by Cassie Miles

  “A photographer. And a caterer. I’m going back into town to meet with the caterer in about an hour. But I needed something from the office.”

  “What’s that?”

  She raised her left hand. “I can’t pass myself off as an undercover bride without an engagement ring. I thought I could contact that jeweler we worked with and borrow one.”

  “Not necessary,” he said. “I have a ring.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. Adam had never before noticed that her irises were a remarkable shade of blue. Of course, he knew her eyes were pretty, but today the color shone with a breathtaking luster.

  He forced himself to look away. This was Molly he was ogling—not some abstract woman that he might consider dating. Molly was his friend, his assistant, the woman he’d pulled from a life of crime and…

  “Where’s this ring, Adam?”

  “In the safe.”

  He strode to the conference room adjoining the main office. On the far wall, he removed a framed aerial photograph of the Aspen area to reveal the tumblers of a fireproof titanium wall safe. It was hardly ever used, and he’d taken to keeping his personal papers and valuables here rather than at his home.

  “This is my mother’s engagement ring.” He reached up to spin the numbered dial on the safe. “Not an antique, but it’s very valuable.”

  Molly placed her hand on his forearm, stopping him. She stood close beside him—so close that he could smell the sweet floral scent of her perfume. “Adam, I don’t feel right about using your mother’s ring.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to take the chance that I might lose it. The ring is important to you.”

  “I’m not sentimental.” He removed her hand and turned his attention to the safe that was cemented into the outer wall of the house. “It’s less complicated for you to wear this ring than to track down something through a jeweler.”

  She stepped back. “Thank you.”

  Besides, he wanted to help her in this investigation. This ring was irrefutable, tangible evidence that he supported her and believed in her abilities. “It’s a perfect diamond. I suppose that’s suitable for your made-up fiancé.”

  “Rafael DuBois,” she said.

  He snorted. “Fancy name.”

  “He’s a fancy fantasy guy,” she said. “Fabulously wealthy. And handsome.”

  “His profession?”

  “He’s from Australia. And he has a ranch where he raises…kangaroos.”

  “A highly profitable endeavor,” Adam said.

  “I’ve only seen you open that safe once or twice before,” she said. “What have you got in there?”

  “Deeds. Some cash. Medals.” He had two Purple Hearts. “I have a handgun in here. You might consider carrying a weapon while you’re investigating.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t need it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “This isn’t what I’d call a dangerous crime. Also, I don’t want to bother with the paperwork for a license to carry a concealed weapon.”

  The safe opened. He fished around inside until he touched the velvet-covered box that held his mother’s engagement ring.

  As Adam opened the small box to show Molly, a sense of irony crept over him. This ring should have signaled the eternal bond of love between himself and the woman he would marry. Instead, he was giving it to Molly to use on a criminal case.

  Perhaps his dedicated fight against crime was his real life partner. Not a woman. Not hearth and home. Perhaps Adam was married to his work.

  Until this moment, that had seemed like enough. Now, he had a sense of wanting more.

  “It’s exquisite,” Molly said as she beheld the square-cut center stone flanked by two smaller diamonds on a platinum band. “And very impressive. Three diamonds.”

  “My mother said the three gems symbolized a brilliant past, present and future. My parents were married for forty-five years. They died within a month of each other.”

  “Adam, this ring is precious to you. I don’t think I should—”

  “I want you to have it.”

  He grasped her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.

  Though he should have been pledging his undying love with this ring, the fact that Molly was wearing it felt somehow right.

  She held the ring up to the light, admiring the sparkle from the faceted diamonds. When she smiled, her face glowed. Her cheeks warmed. Had her complexion always been so flawless? She looked younger now than on the day they had met seven years ago. “Thank you, Adam.”

  He cleared his throat. Gruffly, he said, “I’ll do anything to get you through this investigation and back at your desk as quickly as possible.”

  “Of course,” she said. “This is a smart, efficient business strategy.”

  And yet, when he looked into her eyes, he saw a longing as if she wanted to kiss him.

  A similar urge rose within him, and he turned away from her. There were rules Adam lived by, and one of the most basic was: no personal relationships in the workplace. He’d be a fool to get involved with Molly. If it didn’t work out, he’d lose the best assistant he ever had.

  Calling upon his prodigious self-control, he closed the safe and turned back toward her. “Good luck in your investigation.”

  A sly smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I appreciate your support. You’re not as much of a tightass as I thought you were.”

  “The so-called tightness of my ass has nothing to do with my need to—”

  “I know,” she said. “You want me back here to make your coffee and keep your files. Don’t worry. This should only take a day or two.”

  He hoped she was right.

  BY THE TIME Molly reached Pierce’s office at a few minutes until six, it was already dark. The evening breeze held the snap of autumn, a portent of the winter snows. But she wasn’t at all cold. Ever since Adam’s ring encircled her finger, Molly felt a warmth that radiated from within.

  Though she was well aware that this engagement ring was nothing more than an undercover disguise, it made her feel special to be wearing it. This beautiful diamond opened the door to an elite club of women who were beloved, engaged to be married. And it didn’t bother her too much that she was engaged under false pretenses. She’d crashed a lot of parties in her day.

  Parked beside the Dumpster at the rear of Pierce’s shop, she paused for a moment and held up her hand. The brilliant gems shimmered in the light of a street-lamp, as though a star had fallen from the heavens and come to rest on her hand. Pretending to be engaged was so amazing that she could hardly imagine the real thing—especially since her one and only marriage wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat.

  She left her car and went to the rear door of Pierce’s office. It was unlocked. She slipped inside and called out, “I’m here. Pierce?”

  Her voice echoed, but there was no answer.

  The lights in the back area were on, and she peered into his office. Nobody there.

  A shadow of foreboding crept over her.

  She opened the door leading into the middle section of his office with the conference table and the bridal catalogs. In here, the overhead lights were dark, and the only illumination came from the other side of the partition in the front office and reception area.

  Molly had never liked the dark. From the time she was a little girl, she imagined monsters under the bed. She felt at the wall for a light switch but couldn’t find one.

  “Pierce?” A shiver ricocheted inside her rib cage, and her heart beat faster. Tension prickled the hairs on her arms as she edged carefully toward the partition.

  Her fingers tightened into fists. For a moment, she thought about the gun from Adam’s safe. She should have taken it.

  Light from the street spilled through the front window and highlighted the classy sofa and chairs. A small lamp cast an amber glow on the desktop.

  On the beige carpet, she saw Pierce. He lay facedown. A knife handl
e protruded from the center of his back.

  Molly raced toward him and fell to her knees beside him. My God, this couldn’t be happening! She was investigating a petty theft, searching for a magpie. Not a murderer.

  She touched Pierce’s hand. It was warm.

  When she felt for a pulse at his wrist, he moved. He was still alive.

  Chapter Four

  It was up to Molly to save Pierce’s life. She knew the rudiments of first aid. Adam had taught her. But what came first in first aid? She couldn’t think!

  Frantically, she ripped open her purse and pulled out the cell phone. She speed-dialed Adam.

  As soon as he answered, she said, “It’s Pierce. He’s been stabbed.”

  “Where are you?” Adam asked.

  “His shop.” She recited the address. “He’s alive. How do I stop the bleeding?”

  “Have you called 911?”

  That should have been her first response. She should have known. “No.”

  “Is the attacker still there?”

  Her gaze flitted from shadow to shadow in the dimly lit room. Was he still here? She hadn’t thought of danger to herself. When she saw Pierce, her concern for him blanked out everything else. “I don’t know if he’s here.”

  “Get out of there,” Adam said. “Now.”

  But if she ran, the assassin might return to finish the job. “I won’t leave Pierce.”

  “Stay on the phone,” Adam ordered. “I’ll use the other line to call for an ambulance.”

  She gripped the outflung hand of her wounded friend and squeezed his fingers. The diamonds in her borrowed engagement ring twinkled ironically in the light from the window. Moments ago, she’d been almost happy.

  Leaning over Pierce, she whispered, “Help is on the way. You’re going to be all right.”

  He made no sound. His body was still. His life force was slipping away. She could almost hear the slowing of his heartbeat.

  “Pierce,” she called desperately to him. “Stay with me.”

  It seemed impossible that he would die. He was such a big, muscular man. Full of strength. Full of life. How had anyone gotten close enough to attack him?

  “Molly.” She heard Adam’s voice on the phone. “Are you there?”

  “What can I do for him?”

  “Don’t try to remove the knife. You might cause further bleeding.” Adam’s voice was calm. “I’ve called an ambulance. The paramedics will be there. Let them handle—”

  “There has to be something I can do.”

  “If you can find a blanket, cover him.”

  A blanket. She thought of the center room with all the bridal supplies. There might be something there. “I’ll look.”

  She gave one more squeeze to Pierce’s limp hand and bolted upright. As she stood, too quickly, the sheer horror of the situation crashed around her. Her legs were unsteady. Fighting dizziness, she stood very still, regaining her wits and her balance. The last thing she needed right now was to pass out. A fainting spell? No way. She wasn’t that type of woman. Not a delicate flower. Molly was tough. She was a weed.

  Over the cell phone, Adam said, “Tell me what you’re doing.”

  “I’m going to the center room.” The faint light in the room was disorienting. When she took a step, she couldn’t feel her feet. “There’s only one lamp. It’s dark in here.”

  Squinting, she spied a light switch near the front entrance. “First, I’ll turn on the overhead lights.”

  Walking carefully, she reached the front door and flipped the switch. Nothing happened.

  “Did you find the lights?” Adam asked.

  “They don’t work. Must be a blown fuse.”

  “Are you near an exit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Open the door,” Adam said. “Call for someone to help you.”

  A very smart idea! She twisted the knob and pulled. The carved oak door remained closed. “There’s a dead bolt.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “Through the rear.”

  “Go back that way,” Adam said.

  She peered into the shadows in the office. Behind the separating partition was total dark. Was someone there? The air seemed to move, gradually taking form then dissipating in foul miasma.

  Tension pumped adrenaline through her system. No way would she walk through those thick, looming shadows. “It’s too dark. I can’t go back that way.”

  “Keep talking to me,” Adam said.

  Her heart raced. She was literally trembling with fear. Her instincts told her to hide, to seek cover. But she’d never been a coward.

  “Molly!” Adam’s voice snapped through the cell phone.

  Her irritation was automatic. She snapped, “What?”

  “You need to find the key. So you can open the door for the paramedics. Talk to me, Molly.”

  She gripped the cell phone, white-knuckled. It was her lifeline. She forced herself to take a step. “I’ll look in the desk. Maybe there are keys in the drawer.”

  But the desk was locked. Pierce must have the keys. They must be in his pocket.

  “Now I’m going back toward Pierce. He’s not moving, Adam.”

  “You’ve got to open that door.”

  Crouched down, she searched Pierce’s trouser pockets. “His wallet is in his back pocket. I can’t find the damn keys.”

  She forced her hand under him, shifting his considerable weight to search both front pockets. Her fingers closed around the key ring. “Got it.”

  From the rear of the offices, she heard a clatter. The noise went through her like a shock wave and she gasped. “Adam, somebody’s in here.”

  Holding her breath, she waited for the darkness to take form and charge like the monsters that lived under her bed when she was a little girl. Where was the ambulance? Why were they taking so long?

  “Calm down, Molly. Take the keys and go to the door.”

  But if she stood at the door, she’d be exposed. Instead, she crawled across the carpet to the beige sofa, chairs and coffee table. She stayed low, hiding from the faint light that spilled through the front window, wishing she could be invisible.

  “Molly, talk to me.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” She was scared, and she hated the fear. The helplessness. Molly was big and brash. She could handle anything. And yet, she was cowering.

  “Find a weapon,” Adam said.

  “What?” She glared at the cell phone. “This is a wedding planner’s office. Not an armory.”

  “There must be something.”

  “A lamp.” Clumsily, she reached up and grasped the neck of a table lamp. She yanked the cord from the wall and stood. “I can use this as a club.”

  “Do you see anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Open the damn door.”

  “Easy for you to say.” His total lack of empathy ticked her off. “You’re not trapped in a beige office with a dying man.”

  “I wish it was me instead of you,” Adam said. “But it’s not. Pull yourself together, Molly.”

  He was always giving orders. Even now when she might be in mortal danger, Adam wouldn’t cut her any slack. Her anger at him gave her a surge of energy. “All right. I’m going to the door.”

  Gripping the heavy lamp, she stalked across the carpet toward the door. She had to set down her weapon to flip through the keys on the ring. Her fingers were shaky, and that sign of weakness irritated her even more.

  The overhead lights came on. The sudden flash blinded her.

  Molly whirled, dropping the cell phone. The sight of Pierce’s body—fiercely illuminated—shocked her. Crimson streaks of blood stained the beige carpet. The back of his shirt was dark red. She saw another wound on his skull. A bit of white fabric lay beside him. A bride’s veil.

  How the hell could this have happened? It was wrong. She grabbed the lamp and brandished it like a baseball bat. “You want a fight?”

  She braced herself against the door. Nobody was going to att
ack her from behind. “Bring it on.”

  More than bravado, this was rage—a huge, powerful burst of anger that eclipsed her terror. She was ready to attack.

  The screech of an ambulance siren cut through the night. Finally!

  Molly turned her attention to the door. She found the key, unlatched the dead bolt and flung it open.

  A cool evening breeze gushed against her hot cheeks and forehead. She caught a gulp of the fresh air. Her sense of relief was huge, as if she’d escaped from the depths of a drowning pool.

  Keeping the door ajar, she picked up the cell phone. The blare of the ambulance siren serenaded her. The flashing lights of the emergency vehicle were beautiful.

  To Adam, she said, “The paramedics are here. I’ll call you from the hospital.”

  Gratefully, she stepped aside as the paramedics did their job.

  “He’s alive,” she told them.

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ll take it from here.”

  Molly turned away from the sight of her injured friend. Though she was still wary, the tension drained from her as reality soaked in.

  The simple fact was this: someone had tried to kill Pierce. She couldn’t believe he’d been attacked because of a few stolen appliances. Apparently, she was investigating something more than petty theft. Much bigger.

  She stood in the doorway. On the sidewalk outside the office, a small crowd had gathered. The people in a Starbucks across the four-way-stop intersection craned their necks.

  From the office next door, Gloria and the tailor, Stan Lansky, appeared.

  “What’s going on?” Gloria demanded.

  “It’s Pierce.” Molly was glad that she’d recovered enough of her poise to face this witch without trembling. “He’s been injured.”

  “Injured in what way?” Gloria tossed her head, sending a ripple through her shining black hair. She didn’t seem very concerned about her ex-husband.

  The paramedics emerged from the office, carrying Pierce on a stretcher that they loaded quickly into the ambulance.

  Gloria came closer. Her lips were tight. Her expression unreadable.

  “He was stabbed,” Molly said. “In the back.”

  Gloria looked past her into Pierce’s office. She strode inside. With two fingers, she plucked a scrap of bloodstained netting and ribbons from the floor. “It looks like I’ll need to order a new veil.”