by Jackson, Pam
“Well,” he said, hanging up the receiver on the dated wall-mounted phone. “I guess you have to stay here tonight and Paul will come in the morning when the storm is over.” He flashed a dazzling white smile and brushed a lock of dark hair from his forehead. “I promise, you will be safe here, I don’t bite.”
You have no idea how big a hornet’s nest I’ve just dragged you into, mister.
This was her mess, and she needed to clean it up fast. But first she was going to eat—being half starved and exhausted was not helping her put together a rational plan.
They sat quietly and dined on ham, cheese, lettuce and tomato that on fresh focaccia bread. Andie devoured her sandwich almost as fast as Clay did his, and she realized that this was the first time she had eaten since her dinner yesterday evening at her favorite French restaurant, Le Chapeau Noir, with Tivoli.
At dinner, she had discussed with Tivoli her concern about the impatient visitor who had arrived that morning in her office. The plump Latino man had demanded to see all her case files on Claudius Smith. When she had politely denied him access, he had picked up the heavy Baccarat crystal bowl from her eighteenth century mahogany desk and threw it against the wall. He cursed at her in Spanish and left the building with two of his obedient henchmen at his heels. Tivoli did his best to dismiss the angry Latino’s actions, and he fed Andie a weak story that the man was probably a competitor trying to steal information. But Andie wasn’t buying Tivoli’s lame attempt to get her to drop the incident. In fact, it solidified her hunch about the item she was investigating. More than ever, she realized she was a pawn in Tivoli’s evil game. This was why she was on the run and searching for the Atros Fallis before Tivoli could get his claws into it and sell it to the highest bidder.
Andie suddenly found herself yawning with the sluggish feeling she got after eating Thanksgiving dinner. “I’m sorry, it’s not the company.”
“No, I completely understand. You’ve had a big day. Falling from vertical cliffs and traversing through a blowing snowstorm would make even the fiercest of soldiers I know exhausted. Of course, they were usually sent out on a mission of some sort. Following orders from some egotistical armchair warrior in a comfortable command room.”
Andie could hear the sarcasm in Clay’s voice. She knew he was using his military interrogation skills on her, and his curiosity was probably nagging at him like a ravenous dog. Curiosity was a bad sign, and Andie needed to defuse Clay’s skepticism with extreme tact. Being a Special Forces soldier meant he was resourceful, and she knew it would only be a matter of time before he demanded the truth from her.
It was probably too late anyway. From the cool look in his eyes, she could tell he was on to her—the map hanging on the wall in Clay’s living room was what she wanted. If she could only examine it. Her head ached as she felt the stress of the last two days flood her mind, and she wished she had never heard one whisper about Claudius Smith and his secrets.
Get that map girl, she thought to herself, and then get the hell out of here.
Clay stood away from the table, “Let me show you to the guest room. It’s not much, but there is a comfortable bed and the sheets are clean.”
“Thanks for your hospitality. I will be leaving first thing in the morning. Your friend the park ranger, Paul—he said that they would send a rescue vehicle up the mountain.”
Clay crossed his arms and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Dunno. You may not be able to get down this mountain tomorrow. Paul usually takes care of the roads at the bottom of the mountain first before he makes a trek up here—that’s if he can get his act together bright and early. He’ll probably just send a probie up, and hopefully the kid doesn’t get lost on these backwoods trails. I’d say you’re looking at closer to late afternoon than first light.”
Andie was leaving tomorrow morning. Plows or no plows, she was gone. He was just trying to scare her. But why? What did he have to gain from her staying here? Once again, the icy tendrils of suspicion reached out to touch her consciousness, and she thought of Tivoli. Even if Clay wasn’t a hired gun for her manipulative boss, he was still growing extremely suspicious of her behavior. She needed to ditch him, but she wasn’t going to act impulsively again.
She needed a plan, and she had just figured one out.
She would have to be sharp and calculate her every move if she were going to pull this off. She was never one to ask for help directly, and she enjoyed the satisfaction of solving a problem on her own. That was more a defense mechanism than a sign of independence. If she could do it for herself and by herself, she wouldn’t need to depend on anyone. If she failed, she would only disappoint herself. Now she needed help, but she wasn’t going to ask for it, especially from Clay. However, there was nothing wrong with asking a few questions about her surroundings.
“Okay, if you think Paul might not make it up here, how can you help me get back to my car? I would feel terrible to put you out for another day and night, you’ve done so much for me already.” She smiled sweetly, hoping that he would fall just a smidge for her damsel in distress imitation, since he was evidently immune to her flirtation.
“I have a snowmobile out back. In the morning, I’ll ride you down into town and see if we can get my buddy, Luke Myers, and his boys to shovel your car out.”
“Snowmobile, great! You said you have it out back?” She wondered if Clay could smell the smoke from the gears grinding away inside her head.
“Yep, I keep it in the barn, down the path. I have an ATV, too. You don’t think I hike into town every time I need supplies?” A wide smile crossed his face. “We can call Paul again in the morning and tell him not to bother sending up a rescue truck. I’ll get you back to town, I promise.”
Andie felt a bit guilty about the plan she had formed, especially now that there was a snowmobile to get her moving again. Finally, she had found a means to escape and search the area faster than she could on foot. Maybe she didn’t even need to get back into town and regroup. If she had Uncle Owen’s map, she could compare it to her own trail maps and find the cave.
She followed Clay out of the kitchen, and he showed her to a spare bedroom adjacent to the staircase. The room was small and cozy, trimmed with dark wood paneling. There was a twin bed with crisp white linens and a matching comforter. A delicate oak end table with a Tiffany style lamp sat next to the bed, and an outdated shag carpet covered the floor. This was definitely not a room that recently had been updated, but it was warm, and right now the bed looked sublime to Andie and her aching limbs.
“Well, good night,” he said. “The bathroom is down the hall and to the right. It’s all yours. I’m upstairs in the loft and have my own bathroom, so don’t worry about getting up at dawn to race me for a hot shower. I have a new generator out back with a dedicated line just for the well, so there’s plenty of hot water. Oh, do you need a T-shirt to sleep in? I have some extras upstairs.”
“No, umm, I’ll be fine, thank you anyway.”
“I see.” A devious grin formed on his lips. “You’re a purist and sleep in the nude.”
Wanting to change the subject, she said, “Thank you, Clay. I really don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come along when you did.” She shuddered for a second, remembering the pain she had felt as the serrated rock face had sliced into her palms. She looked down into her open hands that were covered in white bandages and medical tape. I could’ve died out there.
He carefully took her hands in his and examined his impromptu field surgery. “Not bad, if I say so myself. I’ll change the bandages in the morning, and you should be back to thumb wrestling in a day or so.”
She was aware that he was holding onto her hands slightly longer than he should have been, and she felt the warmth of his tenderness pass through her body. She wanted to trust him, but she couldn’t afford that luxury.
C’mon, Andie. Snap out of it.
He excused himself and retreated silently up the stairs as she watched his strong, muscular physiqu
e pass into the darkness.
Chapter 4
Andie was dead tired; she could feel the heaviness in her eyelids, and her muscles ached with tension. She tried to fight it off, but she soon found herself giving in to deep sleep. She felt her eyes close, and her limbs lay heavily against the soft mattress. Several hours passed in what felt like moments.
She woke in a panic and found herself gasping for breath. She was jolted back into reality, leaving the nightmare that plagued her nights. It was always the same, with a split-second flashback and a feeling of a disturbing memory. She was confused every time she woke from these dreams: a vision of an angry mob taunting a somber man standing on a gallows, his dark eyes searching the horizon for help. But it was the hangman who frightened Andie more than the perpetual nightmares themselves. She could see the strange figure eight tattoo on top of his hand and a hideous scar that stretched from the corner of his mouth to his right eye—a permanent, sinister half-smile. Perfect for a man who enjoyed killing for a living.
She stared at her watch and waited a few seconds for her eyes to adjust so she could read the small, glowing hands on the watch face. “Shit, three-thirty!” Heat flashed over her face as she realized she had overslept. Her anxiety grew as she played out her covert operation over and over in her mind.
She would get dressed in the darkness of her room and sneak out to the living room, where she would borrow the yellowing map that hung on the wall in a cheap frame. Then she would get into the barn and leave on the snowmobile. Somehow, she would disable the ATV so Clay couldn’t follow her tracks in the snow at first light. Damn it! She was an antiquarian, not a mechanic; this was going to be a challenge. She hoped she could get out the back door without waking Clay. If, by a slim chance of luck, she survived this mess, not only would she be worried about Tivoli hunting her down for the rest of her life, she could count on Clay to press charges against her for burglary.
It was time to go, and Andie figured Clay would be sleeping deeply by now. She was beginning to feel guilty about this whole pilfering and deceit thing, and she thought about what a complete wuss she was now becoming. What the hell is happening to me? Her conscience had never bothered her like this before, especially when it came to retrieving artifacts or impressing Tivoli with her finds. You’re just exhausted, Andie. Shake it off and focus, damn it.
If she didn’t get her ass in gear and stick to the plan, dealing with Clay would be a picnic compared to Tivoli, according to his threatening voicemail message. Working with Tivoli for all these years, Andie had been given a front row seat to the cruelty he could inflict when he deemed it necessary.
She quickly but quietly pulled her hiking pants over her slim legs and slipped on her trail boots. Her turtleneck and knit hat felt warm and comfy as she quietly adjusted both so that the cold night air wouldn’t penetrate to her delicate skin. Under any other circumstance, she might’ve considered crawling back into bed and sleeping until dawn—but sleep would have to wait. In fact, food was probably going to have to wait, too.
She opened the bedroom door slowly, just enough to squeeze her small frame out of the room. The living room was warm and comforting with the heat from the orange embers glowing faintly in the hearth. Shining through the large windows was a full, bright moon that illuminated the space between her and the front door. Long shadows were cast against the walls by the tall pines and birches, and she was grateful that not only had it stopped snowing, but there was bright moonlight illuminating the snow-covered ground—she wouldn’t need a flashlight to find trail markers or to read her cell phone’s GPS.
Thankfully, I downloaded that hiking trail app before I left. At least she had remembered to do that. She was still agonizing over forgetting her laptop, but seriously, how much stuff could she lug around in her backpack? She prayed that Tivoli was sleeping in on this cold morning instead of rummaging through her computer files. Hopefully, the firewall she had installed would slow his tech minions and give her a head start.
With a little luck, her plan just might work.
“Okay, girl. This will be a breeze. Just get that map,” she whispered, trying to boost her confidence.
She grabbed her goose down coat from the antique brass coat stand and tiptoed to the hearth wall to gingerly remove the old frame. She fumbled a bit with the cheap clasps that kept the glass and wood tightly together, and then she stopped for a second to listen for Clay stirring in his bed. When she was sure the only sound she heard was the occasional pop of a smoldering ember, she removed the map from the frame, folded it as delicately as possible and placed it inside the breast pocket of her coat. She quickly placed the frame and glass together again—minus the map—and then placed it back on the wall. She was dying to open the map and view the magnificent detail of Uncle Owen’s accomplishment, but that would need to wait. She could further study the sketch of the mountain’s trails, caves and mineshafts when she was at a safe distance from Clay.
She kept close to the wall and followed it around the furniture until she reached her backpack, which was sitting by the front door. Quietly, she slung it over her shoulder and crept into the kitchen. Earlier, when she and Clay were having dinner, she had noticed a newly installed French door that led out onto a small deck. This would be a much quieter exit than opening the heavy oak front door. She unlocked the door with a slight click and slowly opened it. The cold night air stung her face, and she breathed in slowly to acclimate her body to the chill. She closed the door silently and turned carefully on her heel to follow the length of the deck to the stairs. A bright light caught her in the face, and she froze like a statue.
“Leaving so soon, are ya? I didn’t even have a chance to make you my award winning pancakes.” Clay’s voice boomed in the night air as he adjusted the beam of light from his flashlight to shine on her pack.
“Christ almighty, you scared the hell out of me!” Andie was so startled that she could feel the heat surge through her muscles from the blast of adrenaline.
He didn’t respond, but instead stared intensely at her face. More of his psyops training, she supposed, as she stood motionless, trying to regain her breath and composure.
He looked different—sweeter and younger, she thought. Then she realized that he had shaved off his coarse scruff, leaving neatly trimmed dark sideburns and washed, wavy brown locks that were pushed back off his forehead. Chiseled cheekbones complemented his square jawline, and perfect full lips completed his handsome face—great for kissing.
Andie could feel her abdominal muscles tightening from Clay’s glare, and she couldn’t tell if it was the adrenaline retreating through her veins or that lustful gnawing feeling she got when she noticed an attractive man. She couldn’t believe she was thinking about sex during a time like this.
“You won’t get far without these,” he said, holding up two rabbit’s foot key chains. One was dyed red and the other blue—attached were silver keys.
Andie presumed that one was for the snowmobile and the other for the ATV. She had figured she would search for them in the barn since she hadn’t noticed any keys in the house. Hell, she hadn’t even known she needed a key to start a snowmobile, but that wasn’t going to stop her from stealing it.
“You do know that rabbit’s foot key chains are extremely tacky. I might have to inform PETA of your cruelty,” Andie tried to say playfully as she forced down the lump in her throat. She was desperate to dismantle Clay’s anger bomb, which was ready to go off any second, and she knew she would be removing shrapnel from her ass for days if she didn’t think fast.
She couldn’t believe she was so transparent to him. He must’ve known all along that she was planning to steal the snowmobile. He didn’t trust her—and rightfully so—but being trapped after a snowstorm with a stranger watching her every move was forcing her anxiety to build rapidly. Her eyes nervously darted across his hulking form, and then she noticed it. “Is that your bunny killer, or were you planning to use that on me?” she asked, indicating the dark polymer grip of
what looked to be a 9mm pistol emerging from the waistband of his jeans.
Clay casually covered the weapon with the open flap of his down ski vest, and he finally broke his silence in a low, steely tone. “I’m not planning to use it on you. However, I might need to use it on the extremely pissed off gentleman who threatened you on your voicemail. Ah, let’s see if I can remember one of the messages. Oh yeah, I think it was, ‘If you’ve betrayed me, you will beg like a starving dog for me to kill you swiftly.’” Clay shook his head and said, “You seem to associate with some very eloquent people.”
Andie stood there in disbelief. Instead of feeling weak-kneed from being caught red-handed as a thief, she was now flushed with anger. “You searched through my backpack and then listened to my personal messages on my phone? Who the hell do you think you are?!”
“Well, I’d call us even.”
“You’re out of your freaking mind. How can we be even?!”
“I listened to your personal phone messages in retaliation for you stealing my personal property ... and, you know, you really shouldn’t keep your security password programmed into your phone,” he said smugly, never breaking his intimidating gaze.
Andie was dazed. She hadn’t even gotten close to the barn, and now Clay had heard the messages from Tivoli threatening her life for double-crossing him. She felt cornered and threatened—similar to that poor little bunny whose velvety paw was fastened tightly to the only means of her escape.
“Unhinged is not a good look for you; it doesn’t complement your eyes.” A contemptuous smile appeared on his face. “C’mon, Andrea. I know you stole my uncle’s map.”
This guy was wasting his talents in the military; he should set up shop as a psychic, maybe get his own reality show.
She struggled to come up with a plausible excuse to reply to his accusation, but none came. She just stood there, slack-jawed and bewildered.
