by Cassie Miles
This was her chance to slip outside.
She threw on a heavy sweater from her closet. If she put on more obvious outdoor clothing, somebody would stop her from leaving the house. They had their orders.
And she had hers.
She crept down the stairs and dodged through the house, ducking around corners to avoid being seen. This was crazy! But it was more insane to disobey Nate. No telling who he’d attack next.
Closing the back door behind her, she slipped outside. The cool, fresh air washed over her, arousing her senses. The glitter of sunlight on snow dazzled her. For a moment, she forgot her mission and reveled in the pure joy of being outside.
She needed this. Nicole had always been an outdoors person. She loved the whispering wind and the taste of moisture in the air. This was what she needed. This was her cure.
Just then, the young cowboy MacKenzie came around the corner of the house, and she darted toward the trunk of a cottonwood near the house. He didn’t see her.
Down the sloping path, she ran. Her feet felt light. Not even breathing hard, she circled the bunkhouse and leaned against the wall on the side away from the house. From this vantage point, she could see the stable that had burned. One of the older buildings on the property, it wasn’t a great loss in terms of the structure itself. But the fire had destroyed a lot of equipment and tack—saddles, bridles and halters.
The charred remains of the stable walls contrasted with the pure-white snow. She stared at the corner Nate had designated. What had he hidden there? A map? A key? A gun? If it was something lethal, like a bomb, there was no way she’d put others in danger.
When had he taken the risk of coming so close to the house? Yesterday when everyone was inside, talking and laughing and decorating the Christmas tree? His approach must have been at least a day ago—long enough for the wind to erase his footprints in the snow.
She hurried down the hill. The exhilaration of physical movement mingled with her fear—a giddy combination. The inside of her head was spinning. Which corner had he told her? Northwest or northeast?
Her gaze lit on a dark leather pouch, half buried in snow. As she picked it up, she scanned the surrounding forest. Was Nate nearby, watching them from a snipers perch? Had she been lured into a trap?
Chapter Twelve
Dylan strode the last few paces toward his wife. What the hell was she thinking? Leaving the house to go out onto the porch would have been dangerous enough. But here? Standing in the snow with nothing to protect her, she was easy prey. He looked toward the trees, half expecting to see the gleam of sunlight on gunmetal.
His hand slapped his hip, reaching for a holster that wasn’t there. The whole time she’d been missing, he’d been armed. But not today. Not when he might really need his weapon.
As he approached, she sank to her knees, breathing hard. Though she waved him off, it seemed like a struggle for her to stagger to her feet. She faced him. “I’m sorry, Dylan.”
“Did you forget what happened the last time you went running off by yourself?”
“Of course not.” Her voice was firm, but she wavered on her feet. “How did you find me?”
He pointed to the snow behind him. “You left a trail a blind man could follow.”
“So I did. I guess…” Her voice trailed off. Her knees sagged.
He stepped forward and caught her before she fainted onto the charred earth beside the burned stable. Her weakness might be a blessing in disguise. He wouldn’t have to waste time arguing with her about why they needed to get back to the house.
From a distance, he heard the lowing of cattle. Overhead, a hawk circled and screeched. Was there a movement in the forest?
If Dylan had been alone, he’d have welcomed the opportunity for a showdown with Nate. But Nicole was with him.
With adrenaline charging through his veins, he easily found the strength to carry her up the slope. It was vital to find shelter, to get her inside where she’d be out of harm’s way. As he made tracks across the snow-covered field, the back of his neck prickled. At any moment, a gunshot could ring out. They’d both be dead, and Nate would have his revenge.
Near the bunkhouse, she fidgeted in his arms. Her eyelids were open. “You can put me down.”
“Planning to run off again?”
“Please, Dylan.” Her tone gave him pause; she almost seemed to be begging him. “Haven’t I been embarrassed enough? I don’t want to be carried into the house like a child.”
Protected by the eaves of the bunkhouse, he lowered her legs to the ground. His arm still supported most of her weight as he looked down into her blue eyes, checking for signs of further weakness. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not going to collapse again.”
“Dammit, Nicole. You scared the crap out of me.”
When he’d realized that she wasn’t in the house, he’d panicked. Losing her again would drive him straight over the edge.
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” she said. “I just wanted to catch a breath of fresh air.”
“Nate could be anywhere,” he warned. “We can’t take chances.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
Did she? Did she, really? Her glib, easy response fueled his anger. Clearly, she didn’t understand a damned thing. She didn’t know what was best for her, best for them.
He had to take charge. Whether or not she liked it.
“We’re going to Glenwood,” he said. “We can’t stay here, being held prisoner in our own house. Don’t even think about arguing.”
Her lips pinched together. “Is that an order?”
“Damn right.”
He hustled her back toward the house. Earlier, when he’d found her missing, he hadn’t raised an alarm. His brain had been too full of disaster scenarios to make any kind of sensible plan. He’d acted on instinct to find her.
When they got inside, Carolyn glared at him. “Where were you?”
“I need for you to make those arrangements,” he said. “The ones we talked about earlier.”
“The chopper?”
Dylan nodded. “That’s right. The sooner we can get started, the better.”
“Done,” she said.
He marched Nicole up the staircase to their bedroom and closed the door. “Get packed.”
“Is there any room for compromise?”
He knew what that meant. During the years of their marriage, they’d developed a system of decision-making. Some situations were obvious, based on their personal likes and dislikes. She never expected him to sit through chick flicks with her. And he’d resigned himself to the fact that she wouldn’t accompany him on hunting trips. As a veterinarian, she’d probably try to revive any animal—even a coyote—that he shot.
For more complicated matters, they each made a list of pluses and minuses. When they compared notes, the final decision was usually obvious.
“We aren’t making a list, Nicole. Not this time.”
“I fainted,” she pointed out. “If I’m really sick, I don’t want to leave home.”
“If you’re ill, we’ll take you to a hospital in Denver for treatment. With Longbridge Security guards posted outside your room.”
A frown creased her forehead. He could tell that she was irritated by not having her opinion considered, but that was too damned bad. He wasn’t taking any more chances.
She crossed the room to the dresser, where he’d left a cardboard box. “What’s this?”
“Lucas Mann,” he said. “Those are his ashes.”
He’d intended to be gentle when he gave her the remains. He knew that she cared about the old foreman, maybe even looked upon him as a father figure. Good fathers seemed to be in short supply around here.
Her fingers trailed across the cardboard surface. “Did the sheriff bring this?”
“Yes,” he said tersely.
“I miss Lucas.”
The sentimental note in her voice irked him. “We’ll deal with the remains later.”
She turned toward him. Her eyes were moist. He couldn’t take much more of her moodiness. What the hell was wrong with her?
“Get packed, Nicole.”
He turned on his heel and left the room before he exploded and said something he would surely regret.
THE SLAM of their bedroom door punctuated her husband’s anger. Nicole couldn’t blame him. She’d crept out of the house and broken the rules put in place by people who wanted only to keep her safe.
It was small comfort that she’d successfully completed her objective before she keeled over. She took the leather pouch from the pocket of her sweater. Not wanting to be caught with whatever Nate had left for her, she went into the bathroom and locked the door. Hiding again.
Everything she did, every move she made seemed to be a fresh betrayal of Dylan. She couldn’t continue to act this way. Every deception felt like a dark seed that took root in her soul and grew, sprouting vines that would strangle and destroy her marriage. Sooner or later, she had to tell him the whole truth.
There were practical reasons for coming clean. Because she’d been following Nate’s instructions, Dylan had been in danger. If Nate had been lurking in the forest, he could have opened fire.
But how can I tell him? If she revealed too much, Dylan might never look at her with love in his eyes. He’d only see a pathetic victim.
She loosened the strings on the pouch. Inside was a small rectangular device that would fit easily into a pocket. A GPS locator. Nate wanted to monitor her location. Once again, she was his captive.
GPS locators could be purchased from several locations, but they weren’t cheap. Nate must have tapped into the money he’d taken from the ransom—Carlisle money that Lucas Mann had died trying to protect.
Using the cell phone, she called the number he’d given her. This time he answered quickly. “Yes, Nicole.”
“I did as you told me.”
“Turn it on,” he whispered.
Her finger poised on the switch. There was absolutely no reason she had to play fair with Nate. She’d been lying to everybody else. It was Nate’s turn.
She didn’t want to talk to him anymore today. Or tomorrow. What she needed was an excuse. She activated the device. “Is it working?”
“Yes,” he hissed. “Keep it on at all times. And keep it with you.”
“I’ll do as you say.” Though she continued to play the role of the hapless captive, a plan formed in her mind. A way to outsmart him. “Not that I expect to be moving around too much.”
“Why not?”
The mere fact that he’d asked a question gave her confidence. She exhaled a prolonged sigh. “You must have seen what happened when I went to the burned stable.”
After a few seconds’ hesitation, he said, “I see everything.”
“Then you know that I collapsed. I had to be carried back to the house.” She made her voice sound scratchy. “I’m terribly weak. I probably won’t be leaving my bed.”
“But I have another task.”
“The doctor…” She breathed heavily into the cell phone. “The doctor gave me some medication. Can’t move.”
“Stop taking the sedatives.”
For the first time, his voice rose above a creepy whisper. She could tell that he was agitated. His scheme didn’t leave room for her to refuse him.
“Sleep.” She groaned. “I must sleep.”
“If you don’t do as I say—”
“I’ll try.” Purposely, she dropped the cell phone on the carpet and fumbled while picking it up. “Can’t move. Too weak. I have to hang up. I’ll call you later.”
With a small sense of triumph, she disconnected the call. If she was too ill to leave her bed, she couldn’t possibly be expected to carry out his sick plans.
She took the GPS locator into her room and stashed it behind the bedside table. There it would stay. For once, she might have gotten the best of Nate Miller.
But there was still the problem of Dylan and his insistence on leaving the ranch. Taking off in a chopper was a dramatic exit. Even if Nate wasn’t watching, word would get out.
She looked down at the cell phone in her hand. If she was going to use illness as an excuse, it might be a good idea to check in with Doctor Sarah. Maybe come up with a couple of fake symptoms to tell Nate about.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she punched in the phone number for the clinic where Sarah worked and identified herself to the receptionist. She was put on hold. To tell the truth, the fainting worried Nicole. She had a strong constitution and wasn’t prone to blackouts. It would be both horrible and ironic if her lie to Nate turned out to be the truth.
“This is Doctor Sarah Lowell.”
“I’m glad I caught you,” Nicole said. “I’ve been having a few problems. A few minutes ago, I fainted.”
“How did you sleep last night?”
“Not well.” She remembered waking up two or three times. And lying awake. Though she’d been in the bed for a full eight hours, she didn’t feel well-rested. “Could I be suffering from exhaustion?”
“You’re pretty good at self-diagnosis. When you fainted, were you doing something physical? Or stressful?”
Walking across a field, expecting to be shot? “You might say it was an intense situation.”
“Are you still nauseous?”
“I vomited again this morning.” Though she didn’t really feel sick, there were enough symptoms to indicate something was wrong. Maybe she really did need a hospital. “I know it’s early, but do you have the lab results from my blood work?”
“I have some preliminary results.” Sarah paused. “Are you sitting down?”
Nervously, Nicole chewed on her lower lip. Are you sitting down? That was the line she used with pet owners before delivering bad news. “What is it, Sarah?”
“According to your blood work, you’re pregnant.”
Nicole gasped. Pregnant? That changed everything.
Chapter Thirteen
Dylan had no idea why Nicole had gone from obstinate to cooperative in the blink of an eye. Instead of fighting him about the trip to Glenwood, she’d added her own spin to their getaway plan. They’d tell the reporters and everybody else who didn’t know that Nicole was sick in bed—unable to leave the house, see anyone or give any sort of statement.
Carolyn didn’t agree. Her irritation was obvious as she leaned against the closed door of their bedroom, watching while they packed. “That story doesn’t make any sense.”
“I like it,” Nicole said as she held up a sleek blue bathing suit. “I wonder if this still fits. I’ve lost some weight.”
“Buy a new one when you get there,” Carolyn said.
“Telling people I’m sick solves all kinds of problems,” Nicole said. “Nobody will be searching for us. Dylan and I won’t have to be looking over our shoulders.”
“It won’t work,” Carolyn grumbled.
Dylan knew his control-freak sister well enough to understand that her real problem was that she hadn’t come up with the sick-in-bed scenario herself. “I suppose you have a better idea?”
“Do I have to do everything?” She threw her hands in the air. “I already arranged for the chopper to fly from one place to another. You’ve got your cover story and phony names.”
“Burke took care of that part,” Dylan said.
After a few phone calls and some fancy work on the computer, Special Agent Burke had set them up with fake identities and an equally fake credit card that operated like a real one—pulling money from the Carlisle accounts.
Dylan’s alias was John Hellman, an elite Denver attorney. Nicole would be his mistress, Francis Montana.
“We’re Frankie and Johnny,” Nicole said with a grin. “I love Burke’s sense of humor.”
“Yeah, he’s a hoot,” Carolyn said. “I hope you know that I had to pull some strings to get you a very nice room.”
“At the Lodge,” he said. “Right?”
“Better,” she said.
; He never liked the way she bulldozed through with her decisions. “Better? How?”
“At the Lodge, you’d have to deal with a lot of people. Desk clerks, maids and other guests. I booked you into a very exclusive condo only a couple of blocks away from the Lodge.”
“But I was looking forward to a midnight swim.”
“No problem. Guests at the condo have twenty-four hour privileges at the pool.”
Nicole shivered. “Swimming in the middle of the night? What’s the big deal with this pool, anyway?”
“It’s pretty damn spectacular. As big as two city blocks. Heated by hot-springs mineral water to a temperature of ninety-two degrees. And the soaking pool is ten degrees warmer.”
“Like swimming in a bathtub,” Nicole said.
“The biggest bathtub in the world.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Carolyn said. “Would you two please focus? Concentrate.”
“On what?”
“Hold on.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’m getting a brainstorm.”
Of course, she would. His big sister always had to run the show. Even when they were kids, she bossed him around—until he’d grown taller and stronger than she was. “Let’s hear it.”
“We can hide Nicole inside a big box or a trunk, and carry her out to the chopper.”
He glanced toward his wife and saw a flash of panic cross her face. Part of the time she was held captive, she’d been locked in the trunk of a car. He didn’t want to put her through that kind of experience again. “I don’t like it.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“I just don’t.”
“Then you come up with something.”
Both women stared at him. Carolyn scowled. Nicole had hope in her eyes; she believed in him. And he wouldn’t disappoint her.
“More disguises,” he said. “During the past week, we’ve had plenty of helicopters flying in and out of here. At one point, there were three FBI choppers, touching down and taking off. Plus dozens of agents coming and going. If Nicole and I both dress in black, we can say we’re FBI agents returning to Denver.”
