A tiny fire of hope lit in Eric’s chest. Maybe he hadn’t failed, if he read the sheriff’s message right Not yet. He just had to buy them some time.
He lifted the gun.
“Eric, no!” The anguish in Manah’s voice almost made him turn his head. Almost. But he couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t give in to the plea he knew he’d see in her vibrant, violet eyes.
Tuning out Manah’s cries and praying that he’d understood Hightower’s message—and that the sheriff was a convincing actor—he angled the pistol a few degrees left and squeezed the trigger.
Shane Hightower crumpled to the ground like a broken doll.
No one spoke while the gunshot reverberated off the mountain walls around them. Eric chanced a look at Manah. Though her head was turned away from him, he could see the tears streaming down her face, feel each one burn a path as it trickled down his own heart. Maybe it was better that she wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t want to see if the tears were real, or just another act. She had to know he couldn’t do it—didn’t do it. Surely she knew him that well by now, didn’t she?
“Looks like we’re all ready.” Seth nodded knowingly to Rodney as he spoke.
Rodney pushed her and Eric toward Granger. “I’d appreciate it if you’d drop your gun now, Will.”
Granger’s face puffed up like a big, red balloon. “What are you doing, boy? What is this?”
Eric answered for the deputies. “It appears the boys aren’t quite ready to retire. I take it you boys have a plan of your own?”
“We put a lot of work into this operation. We ain’t giving it up. We plan to grow our crop up here for a lot more years to come.”
“Fools,” Granger sputtered.
“Shut up, old man. You aren’t in charge here anymore.”
“I’ll watch ’em, Seth,” Rodney said. “You get the sheriff’s body and let’s get this done.”
Manah looked stunned, confused. Eric was having a hard time keeping up with the turn of events himself, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted by Mariah’s worries at the moment. He turned away from her, his focus on Shane and the deputy outside. As soon as Seth’s hand touched the downed man’s shoulder, the sheriff rolled.
Thank God. Eric had been sure he’d aimed too far left to hit the sheriff, but the man had played such a convincing possum that he’d wondered....
Grabbing the deputy by the wrist, Hightower twisted, and Seth fell to the ground with an agonized cry and the snap of bone. While the sheriff disabled Seth, Eric bolted for Rodney. Distracted by the sheriff’s sudden resurrection, Rodney never saw him coming. Eric tackled the man and pounded his head into the ground until Rodney went limp.
Behind him, Shane and the other deputy rolled to the edge of a steep, rocky drop.
“Shane!” Mariah cried.
Seth got in two good punches to Hightower’s midsection as Eric lunged toward them. Before he could get there, though, Seth pushed away from the sheriff and raised his gun.
When this shot went off, Eric had no doubt that this bullet had struck. Red blood coursed through the sheriff’s fingers where he grasped his side as he pitched back, and over the cliff.
Eric dove for the gun Rodney had dropped and pumped a round into Hayes’s thigh before the deputy could bring his gun around to bear on Eric. This time, he didn’t aim to miss. The deputy fell to the ground clutching his leg.
Suddenly a meaty forearm locked around Mariah’s throat. Granger picked up Seth’s rifle and held it at her back.
Eric rolled for cover behind a boulder.
“You stay put,” Granger yelled as he dragged her away. “You stay put or she’s dead!”
When Granger disappeared behind the rocks, Eric started forward. A moan at his back stopped him. Turning, he saw a bloody hand claw its way over the top of the cliff, then slide back. Hightower.
Cursing each precious second head start that Granger got on him, Eric dove for the sheriffs wrist. For several long seconds he pulled with all his strength, gaining ground inch by inch until he could reach down and take hold of the sheriffs belt. With that solid hold, he heaved the man back onto level ground.
“Go,” Hightower said, grimacing as he raised his head far enough to see the bloody wound on his side. “Get her.”
Eric was off before the sheriff got the last word out. The sound of a small engine whined in the woods. Granger’s ATV.
Eric began to run. He had to get to Mariah.
If he’d had time, he would have dropped to his knees and thanked the Lord when he found the deputies’ motorcycles. He cleared the scrub around the edge of the clearing and rolled the throttle back, wide open.
He fell into the feel of the bike like an old, favorite chair. With the sun warming his back, he dodged boulders, hopped dips in the terrain, and skidded over trails at a speed that would dizzy most people. He leaned into the wind, into the bike, taking everything the machine had to give, and more.
Near the twisted pine where they’d first found the tracks from Mike’s jump, he stopped, killed the engine and listened. A high-pitched whine trilled over the rocks, growing closer.
They were on the other side of Fannin’s Run already.
He caught sight of Granger at the same time Granger saw him. The older man stopped the ATV and stared across the chasm—a victory gloat. A challenge. Then he pulled Mariah’s head back by the hair and laughed. Mariah’s head jerked to the side. Eric thought maybe she spit on him.
Good for you, spitfire.
Granger slapped her and struck out again. Eric’s blood boiled. He started the engine with a vicious kick, gunned the throttle and hit the edge of the fissure called Fannin’s Run in a dead heat with destiny. Mike had made this jump, almost. He could make it, too. No mountain would stop him. Nothing would. Not until Mariah was safe.
For a lifetime, he hung in the air as if suspended by a string. Then, with the ground rushing up at him, he lifted the front end of the bike with all his might and bore down on the back.
The landing hurt. Something popped ominously in his back. The bike sunk below its shocks and scraped dirt. He grappled for control, thinking only about Mariah. Miraculously, he righted the motorcycle and within seconds, he was on the ATV.
Three hours later, Mariah stood in the doorway of the hospital waiting room, her back against Eric’s chest. Wrapped in the shelter of his arms, she basked in his embrace, but she could feel the tension in him. He wouldn’t relax until he knew for sure about Mike.
The clearing outside the cave had been buzzing with activity by the time they’d gotten back there with Granger. A helicopter had roared overhead. Six men with evil-looking rifles, wearing body armor and baseball caps with DEA on the brow, had jumped out. Two had immediately gone to Hightower. Two had secured Granger and the deputies, and two had pounced on Mariah and Eric like they were Bonnie and Clyde. Mariah smiled, remembering her surprise, when Gigi McCowan had jumped out right behind them, yelling, “Not them, you baboons, they’re the good guys!”
“Gigi?” Mariah had called out, confused. “What are you doing here?”
Gigi’s grin widened into a dazzling smile. “You didn’t really think I’d let you ride up here without bringing in the cavalry did you? After you left, I called the sheriffs office, only instead of the sheriff, some guy named Bumbley answered—”
“That’s Brumley,” one of the men from the helicopter yelled. “Special Agent in Charge Brumley.”
“Yes sir, Agent Brumley.” Gigi waggled her fingers at an older man with a crew cut, and the man smiled. “Next thing I know the whole freakin’ National Guard showed up, flashing badges and babbling something about a missing agent.”
“Agent?” Mariah had no idea what Gigi was talking about.
Shane struggled to his feet with the help of two of the officers. “That would be me.”
Gigi planted her hands on her hips. “Darn right that would be you. What did you think you were doing working undercover around here without telling anyone who you r
eally—” She stopped, frowning as she studied him. “You’re hurt?”
Mariah chuckled to herself now. It had taken about half a second for her friend’s indignation to disappear, and her doctoring instincts to arise. For a veterinarian, she’d done a pretty fair job administering first aid to both Shane and Mike until the DEA chopper had ferried them to the hospital.
Just then a nurse’s aide walked through the waiting room, and Gigi nearly accosted the poor girl, asking about her patient.
“What are you chuckling about?” Eric asked, tightening his hold.
“I think Gigi is starting to like people-doctoring.” She certainly had seemed to take to treating one local-sheriff-turned-DEA agent, at least.
A second before Manah would have had to go and rescue the nurse’s aide, Shane Hightower shuffled into the waiting room, his shirt unbuttoned and a thick bandage encircling his midsection. Gigi slipped out the back door.
“I just got word from the team on the mountain,” Shane said. “Things are just about wrapped up there. They think they’ve located all of the growing sheds. A clean-up crew will be in later to take out the plants.”
“There’s that much of it?” Mariah asked.
“They had a fair-size operation going, from what the guys tell me. They had a couple dozen shacks built into the rock formations and covered to look as natural as possible—”
“Not natural enough,” Eric interrupted. “Mariah saw them. Even if she didn’t know it.”
“Yeah, they weren’t quite careful enough. It looked like they got sloppier as time went on and they expanded the operation. Or maybe they just got cocky. Those generators we saw were their power source for the whole shebang, but by the tune they got to the lower sheds, they didn’t even bother to cover the wires. The irrigation got sloppy, too. They had fire hoses with holes punched in them running all the way down the mountain, starting from a stream up near the top of Fannin’s Run. Up high they’re buried pretty deep, but down low...” He shrugged, then looked at Eric. “The soft dirt your brother hit was where they were digging to put in a new line.”
“Then they covered it all up after he crashed. That’s why Mariah and I didn’t find anything.”
“I guess they were afraid you’d come back and look around,” Shane said.
“I still can’t believe Mike made that jump to try to save me.” She elbowed Eric lightly. “I can’t believe you did either, you jerk.” She’d never felt fear like she’d felt when she turned to see him flying through space.
“You should have told me what had happened, Mariah. That you’d lost your memory,” Shane lectured.
“You should have told me you were with the DEA.”
“Touché. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more honest with both of you, but Mariah, I just didn’t want you involved, and Randall, well, to be honest, I thought your brother and you might have been involved in all this.”
“So what tipped you off in the end?” Eric asked.
“You did. I’d already spent weeks searching this mountain, but hadn’t found anything. Then in my office you told me you’d been out riding the night of the fire and holed up in a cave until the storm passed. I didn’t figure you were out riding just to check the scenery, and the area around Fannin’s Run is the only place around with a lot of caves. Once I knew the general area to search, it didn’t take long to spot the growing sheds. Unfortunately, Seth and Rodney spotted me before I could get Mike out of there.”
“You risked your life to help him.”
Shane shook his head. “Sometimes it doesn’t seem like enough.”
A tired-looking doctor in green surgical scrubs pushed through the door. Mariah felt Eric’s breathing stop.
“Mike’s going to be okay,” the doctor said. “He’s dehydrated, and has several fractures and bruises on top of his bruises, but we didn’t find any internal bleeding or serious head or neck injuries.”
Eric’s heart pounded against Mariah’s back. “Can I see him?” he asked hoarsely.
The doctor pulled off his cap. “In a few minutes. We’re getting him settled in a room now. I’ll send a nurse out when it’s okay.”
Mariah spun in Eric’s arms and faced his broad smile. Burying her head against his chest, she breathed in his strength, his life force.
“I’ll be going then,” Shane said behind her back. “I’m glad your brother’s okay.”
Eric thanked him, the men shook hands, even with Mariah still in Eric’s arms, and then his footsteps receded down the hall.
“I knew he’d be okay,” she told Eric, smiling up at him.
He nodded and stroked her hair. She could feel the tension building in him again, see it in the crow’s-feet lining his eyes. Cupping his cheek in her palm she tried to figure out what Eric was feeling now. She couldn’t imagine.
He placed his hand over hers, gently pulled it from his face. Suddenly she understood the sadness in his eyes. “You’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?”
“I have to take Mike home,” he said after a long pause.
“And after that?”
He drew a quiet breath. “You could come with me.”
“L.A.?”
He nodded.
“Fancy suits, fast car, thick bank account?”
“Love. Marriage. Children.”
“You’re asking me to marry you?” All the times she’d dreamed about love, she’d never dreamed it could hurt so much. “I—I can’t. Not like this.”
He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Don’t worry. I didn’t really expect you to say yes. You belong on your mountain. I understand.”
“I don’t think you do. I’d do anything to be with you, including giving up the ranch, if it were for the right reasons. But what you’re offering isn’t the kind of life I want. What’s more, I don’t think it’s the kind of life you want, either.”
“It’s the only life I have.”
She didn’t understand him. He’d said he never quit when it came to her. So why was he so willing to give up now on himself? On them? It was like he’d put his life on hold all those years ago when his father died and he’d become the man of the family, and somehow he never quite figured out how to take it up again.
Unable to stand under his silent stare a second longer, she slipped out of his embrace and hurried down the sterile hallway before her tears could fall.
Chapter 15
It came in a packing crate addressed to Mike, with a huge violet bow, almost the same shade as her eyes. The day it arrived, his mom insisted on hanging it over the mantel in the living room and throwing a party, so that all their friends could see.
Every day since, Eric had avoided that room. But at night... At night he lay on the couch in the darkness, when it was less painful to look at, when the light shining from his brother’s eyes didn’t remind him so much of the light in another set of eyes. Violet eyes.
Damn Mariah for finishing the painting, anyway.
He’d been staying at his mom’s house, under the pretense of helping her take care of Mike, who with one arm and one leg in a cast was about as clumsy as a baby bear cub and about as touchy as a mama grizzly. Everything on him either ached or itched, it seemed.
The house was a bit crowded with all three of them there; ironically, he’d never been lonelier in his life.
Two weeks had passed, and he still had no desire to move back to his condo. Every time he stopped by his place to pick up some clothes or check the mail, the apartment felt more like a mausoleum and less like home. It was too big. Too hollow.
Last Saturday when he’d been there, he’d stood a long time at his living room window, looking at the glass skyscrapers around him and listening to the noise of people and traffic on the streets below. And for just a minute, he’d longed to be back on Manah’s mountain, looking down on a peaceful green valley and listening to the breeze rustle through the aspens.
He hadn’t been back to his condo since. And he’d only gone to work when he absolutely couldn’t escape
it. Board meetings and sales presentations no longer held his interest. His mind kept wandering to a hay field that needed to be cut and an old, burned-up tractor that needed fixing.
So he spent his fourteenth night on his mother’s couch, staring at a painting and dreaming in shades of violet.
On the fifteenth morning since he’d come home, he woke with certain knowledge of two things: one, sleeping on a couch every night could ruin a man’s back, and two, the things he valued in life—security, stability, responsibility—weren’t worth a damn if you didn’t have anyone to share them with.
Kind of like dreams.
That morning, instead of putting on a tailored suit and tying a silk noose around his neck, he pulled on a pair of worn jeans and a faded T-shirt. He jammed a pair of reflective glasses on his face, stuck a credit card in his back pocket—his one concession to security—and kissed his mother goodbye, telling her he’d call when he could.
She smiled, patted him on the cheek and said, “It’s about time you came to your senses.” How did mothers know so much?
Out in the garage, he pulled a dust cover off an old bike and smiled. It was like coming home all over again.
Mike leaned on one crutch in the doorway and whistled. “That machine looks like it belongs in a museum somewhere. You sure you want to risk your neck on that dinosaur?”
“This is no dinosaur. It’s a classic machine.”
“Uh-huh. So was Orville and Wilbur’s first airplane. Doesn’t mean I’d want to fly in it.”
Mike stuck a butter knife under the edge of his cast and scratched his wrist. “You going back?”
“Yeah. Guess I am.”
“For good?”
“If she’ll have me.”
Mike grinned. “She’ll have you.”
“I wish I was as sure as you.” He looked up at his brother and took a deep breath. “I never did thank you.”
“For what?”
Virgin without a Memory Page 21
