by Cassie Miles
“And where did you go?”
“Ran up the stairs to the second floor,” he said as he took another step closer. “I backtracked the route we took from your office this morning, crossing the walkway into the medical building. The med building has an underground parking lot.”
Of course, she knew about the underground lot. She used it in bad weather. “But he couldn’t go there. That parking is restricted to hospital personnel.”
“Koslov isn’t exactly a model citizen when it comes to following the rules.”
Dylan eased his boot onto the next stair. Only one stair down from the porch where she was standing, he paused. It occurred to her that he was being extremely cautious about approaching her. Had they argued?
Her excitement at seeing him was rampant and obvious, but she didn’t know whether her adrenal surge was because they were feuding or because of the unexpected attraction she’d felt from the first moment they’d met. Though the effect of the drug had almost worn off, she was still a bit off balance. Glancing at the far end of the porch, she saw two long, furry animals racing around in a circle. “What are those?”
“Ferrets,” he said.
She wanted to know more about the camels and ferrets, but she wanted the rest of the story about Koslov first. “What happened when you focused on the underground parking?”
“I tried like hell to catch him in the walkway or heading toward the elevators in the building where you have your office. But the medical complex is a maze with twists and turns in strange, illogical patterns.” He was speaking faster and faster. “On the blueprint in my mind, I imagined every single door that exited the building. Koslov could have taken any of them. Or even a window.”
“Not a window.” She pointed out, “I was in a wheelchair.”
“Yeah, sure, but he could have picked you up, could have carried you. I was so damn scared that he’d get away. I kept telling myself that he needed a car. I’d catch him when he tried to get you into his vehicle.”
Dylan was on the porch, talking fast. “There are three parking levels underground, and I had no way of guessing which he’d use. I needed to stop him before he exited the garage. With phone coordination from Detective Cisneros, I arranged for cop cars to quietly pull into place and block the exits.”
As he spoke, she felt his energy building. He was a compelling force. She hung on his every word. “You did this while you were running through the building?”
“Cisneros did most of the contacts.”
“It was your idea. You set the trap.”
“But Koslov isn’t a simple country mouse. This man lives for danger. He’s an assassin. There were a lot of flaws in this plan.”
“The wheelchair gave you an advantage,” she said, getting caught up in the story. “He couldn’t run, couldn’t even move very fast while he was dragging me along.”
“The disadvantage,” Dylan said, “was also you. I didn’t want to put you in danger by using my gun. And I sure as hell didn’t want Koslov to get into a shoot-out with the cops outside the garage.”
“If you’d been running hard on the walkway, you might have arrived at the underground parking before Koslov.”
“I think, maybe, I did. There were so many variables—over twenty-seven—but only one constant,” he said. “Two elevators connect the main floor with the level where you exit onto the street. Both open into the same enclosed glass area.”
She added, “Don’t forget the two concrete stairwells beside them.”
“Actually, there are eight stairwells in different parts of the underground. Marked by Exit signs, their doors are locked, only used in emergency, which isn’t an efficient use of the space if you ask me.”
“Not asking.” He certainly got sidetracked easily. “What happened next?”
He held her in his gaze. “Are you certain you don’t remember?”
“Why do you think I might?”
“You and Koslov were talking.”
She couldn’t believe it. Her mouth gaped. Dylan was close enough for her to collapse into his arms, but she needed to stand on her own two feet. Pivoting, she turned and stumbled toward a wooden porch swing. A large orange-striped cat sprawled across the seat.
She pointed to the cat and then to the floor. “Move.”
“You don’t know much about cats, do you?”
“I know that their job is to catch small rodents. That’s their place in the food chain.”
“Taffy begs to differ.”
“Who?”
He approached the cat and reached out to stroke the orange fur. “Good morning, Taffy. Nice, sunny day, right? Would you mind moving off the swing?”
Instead, the cat stretched out to his full length and rolled to his back, displaying his belly for petting. She was fairly certain that Dylan could chat himself blue in the face and the cat wouldn’t pay the least bit of attention. “You’re aware, aren’t you, that you’re talking to an animal?”
With an agile display of feline grace, the orange cat coiled into a ball and then stood. After parading from one end of the swing to the other, Taffy glared at her with cold, yellow eyes. Then she hopped down.
“There you go,” Dylan said.
Instead of taking the seat that had been so ceremoniously vacated, she leaned her back against the smooth log wall beside the door. “You said that I had a conversation with Koslov. Explain.”
“I jammed the elevator doors so they wouldn’t pop open and surprise me. Then I entered one of the stairwells, moving as silently as possible. There was no one inside. As soon as I stepped into the second well, I felt a presence. Are you sure you don’t recall?”
She shook her head. This was so very unlike her. She could count on one hand the number of times she hadn’t been able to come up with the correct answer. The drug he’d given her had wiped her mind clean.
Dylan continued, “I heard a low murmur. Noise echoes and reverberates in those stairwells, but it seemed to be coming from below me. I looked down at the landing on the lower floor and saw you staring back at me. Your eyes were wide open. And your lips were moving. Do you remember what you said?”
Closing her eyes, she tried to access that portion of her memory. She came up blank. “I don’t know.”
“Koslov was behind you. He was talking. Then he whirled to face me and fired off three shots. I dodged. When I stepped back, he was gone. And you were still sitting there.”
“I remember the noise,” she said. The explosions she’d heard must have been gunfire. “Were there only three shots?”
“There were a lot more. When Koslov got went into the garage, he started shooting. The cops returned fire.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Nope, but Koslov got away clean.” He gave her a warm smile. “Back in the stairwell, you were on the floor, wedged in a corner with your hands over your ears. I knelt beside you and started looking for injuries. You frowned and said, ‘I am a doctor.’ Then you passed out.”
“I don’t get it,” she grumbled. “From what my dad and his friend Javier said, I expected Koslov to be a mastermind, a genius bad guy. The idea of racing through a hospital with your hostage in a wheelchair isn’t exactly brilliant.”
“Keep in mind that this was plan B,” Dylan said. “His preferred method of escape would have been the helo on the rooftop. If Cisneros hadn’t been so quick to react, Koslov would have loaded you up and flown.”
Not only had the timing been lucky, but Dylan and Cisneros had done exactly the right thing at the right time. “I should send the detective a thank-you.”
“I’m guessing he wouldn’t say no to a bottle of Stranahan’s.” He pulled open the door and tried to herd her inside. “Coffee?”
But she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. “I still have more questions. You’re t
rying to divert my attention with the offer of caffeine, and I don’t appreciate your methods.”
“I’m having coffee.” He shrugged and went inside. “Stay out here if you want or come inside with your questions.”
“I need an explanation about Loretta. Why is she here?”
“Does it really matter?”
“Yes.” She stared at the beast, who sat watching through impossibly thick, long eyelashes. “If there’s one thing more obvious than an elephant in the room, it’s a camel by the cabin.”
Chapter Ten
Dylan seldom brought guests to the RSQ Ranch. He’d designed this place as somewhere he could go to escape. Only his brother, Sean, knew the precise location, which was lucky because he’d needed Sean for backup while he drove Jayne halfway across the state to the Upper Arkansas River Valley. A beautiful location, he’d purchased this acreage near Buena Vista in the forested land above the river when he was eighteen.
He left his hat on a hook by the door. His boot heels clunked on the hard wood floor as he crossed the front room of the cabin. He didn’t use the kitchen for much more than making coffee or boiling water. Usually, he grabbed his meals at the main house, where the caretakers—Betty and Tom Burton—lived full-time and housed the other occasional part-timers they needed when the ranch got busy. Dylan kept this cabin private—it was his sanctuary.
Glancing over his shoulder at Jayne, who looked cute in her penguin pajamas, he came to a realization. “I’ve never brought a woman here before. You’re my first.”
“The camel, Dylan... Tell me why there’s a camel sitting in front of the cabin.”
“Loretta got sick, and her owners couldn’t provide the care she needed. We took her in.”
She followed him into the kitchen. “Why?”
“That’s what we do. RSQ Ranch is a home for animals that are old or retired or sick or no longer wanted. RSQ stands for rescue.”
“Only if you can’t spell.” But the heavily etched frown lines between her eyebrows smoothed, and she almost smiled.
As he filled the coffeemaker with cool spring water from the tap, he explained the philosophy of the RSQ Ranch.
“We find homes for them, and we have the facilities to handle large animals. Most of our referrals come from vets or zoos. We get a lot of exotic animals...an orangutan, a pair of ocelots, an albino python, and we even have a giraffe right now.”
“Why on earth would someone get rid of a giraffe?”
“She’s pregnant.”
He set the coffee to brew and turned toward her. She’d taken a seat at the round wooden table between the kitchen and front room. Her dark brown hair fell loosely around her face but didn’t hide the swollen bruise on her right cheek.
Her vitality was starting to return. Though he still didn’t see the vivacious doctor who performed surgery in the hospital, he could tell that she was almost back to normal. The haziness that had clouded her eyes was gone as she looked up at him and said, “You keep saying ‘we.’ Almost as though you’re a part of this rescue operation.”
“I own it.”
“But you’re a bodyguard,” she said.
“Being a bodyguard is one thing I do. RSQ Ranch is another.”
“You’re a hard man to figure out. When we met at my neighbor’s house, you looked like a nerd. At the hospital, you pulled off the professor look. And now, you’re a cowboy and maybe a zookeeper.”
“Tip of the iceberg,” he said. “My skill sets are many and varied.”
Her blue eyes glimmered as she looked up at him through her thick lashes...not as thick as the camel’s, but thick. “I had a taste of another of your skill set in the break room.”
A reference to their kiss. Was she flirting with him? That seemed to be the obvious conclusion. At least, he hoped it was.
He cleared his throat. Dylan had never been good at reading signals from women. Should he come right out and ask her? Grab her and kiss her? “There are a few skills you could help me with.”
His face prickled with hot embarrassment. Nerd! He just didn’t have the knack.
“After I’ve had coffee,” she purred, “we can go back into the bedroom. For now, tell me about when you were a kid.”
“Like you, I was kind of a prodigy.”
This story, he’d told a million times.
His genius moment had come when he got into computer games in a big way. His best friend, Mason Steele, would let him come over and play on prototypes that Mason’s dad, a software designer, was developing. Long story short: Dylan created the circuitry, coding, artwork and stories for several original games. With help from Mason’s dad, he sold his products and made a ton of money. The ongoing royalties were enough to keep RSQ Ranch in operation.
The fragrance of brewing coffee wafted through the kitchen. He took two ceramic mugs down from the shelf beside the sink and found a container of milk in the fridge. He held it up. “I know you prefer cream and no sugar, but all I have is milk.”
“That’s fine. Why aren’t you wearing your glasses?”
“I lost them while I was chasing after Koslov. I’ve got in my contacts.” He poured their coffee and placed both mugs on the table. Sitting across from her, he fought the urge to reach out and brush a wisp of hair off her face. The bruise made her features lopsided, but she was still lovely. He asked, “Are you done with the questions?”
“I’ve barely started.” She sipped from the mug and gave a nod to indicate the coffee-to-milk ratio was all right. “Back to the story. We were in the parking garage and...”
“Koslov was on the run. I don’t know how he got through all those cops, but he did.”
“And you took care of me.”
“I carried you into the elevator. On the main floor, I snagged a wheelchair, sat you in it and took you to the front entrance where my brother was waiting. We got into his SUV. I made the decision that you needed to be at a safe house.”
“You decided.” She growled. “Without consulting me, you decided?”
“You were pretty much unconscious.”
“What does that mean?” she demanded. “Either I was conscious or I wasn’t.”
“Drooling,” he said. “You didn’t look like somebody I’d call in for a consultation.”
“Did you even try to talk to me?”
“Actually,” he said, “my number-one concern was your medical condition. Lucky for us, you’re best buddies with the top brain surgeons in the world. I put in a call to Dr. Napoli, and he arranged to check you out.”
“Napoli is acceptable,” she said. “Not brilliant, but not bad. What did he say?”
“I recorded it.”
He took his cell phone from his pocket and played back the doctor’s examination. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she’d been drugged. While Napoli had her blood tested to make sure the drug wasn’t lethal, he applied a cold compress to her cheek. Napoli had a lot to say about how the bruise probably didn’t indicate concussion. Dylan skipped to the lab results about the drug that was used.
As soon as she heard the multisyllable name, she shrugged and said, “Not life threatening.”
“Napoli gave permission allowing you to travel. I promised to keep you quiet, loaded you into the passenger seat, put on the seat belt and reclined it so you could nap.”
“And we came here,” she said.
“After some evasive driving to make sure Koslov wasn’t on our tail.”
She touched the collar of her pajamas. “How did my clothes get here?”
“My brother, Sean, went to your house and packed up a ton of stuff. Sean discovered that Koslov or his men were watching your house, and he led them on a crazy chase all over town. He made damn sure that he lost them before he came here.”
“And how did I get cha
nged?”
A memory of silk and satin undies flashed across his mind.
“Betty and Tom Burton live here full-time. Betty unpacked your clothes and got you ready for bed. She whipped up some kind of lotion for your bruise that smelled like weeds and grease.”
“And then?”
“You drifted off to la-la land. I went to bed in the other room in this cabin so I could keep an eye on you.”
Last night, he’d watched her sleep, synchronized his breathing with the slow rise and fall of her chest. The cool temperature in the cabin made him think of a quiet morning under the covers with fresh sunlight pouring through the windows. “Are you about done with that coffee?”
“Are you sure we’re safe?”
“Nobody knows about this place.”
“Clearly, that’s not true,” she said. “People involved with rescues come back and forth to drop off animals. And there’s the couple who live here, the Burtons.”
“Nobody but my brother would connect the Dylan who lives in Denver with the Dylan who occasionally shows up at RSQ.” He rose from the table and stalked into the front room. “This is the place I come to escape.”
“Escape from what?”
He shook his head. “My mind gets overloaded. I’m sure you know what I mean. A psychiatrist told me it happens to smart people.”
His life wasn’t deeply stressful or problematic. He and his family were in good health. He liked working at TST Security. But there were times when it felt like the world was too much. There was too much noise, constant noise, overwhelming bursts of colors and activity, more than the inside of a kaleidoscope. Sometimes, he wanted to stick his nose into the sand to block the multitude of smells.
“Everybody needs an escape,” she said in a soft, husky tone.
