Mountain Shelter

by Cassie Miles

“But it’s consistent,” Dylan said. “The first thing you said when I got you away from Koslov was, ‘I am a doctor.’”

  “Why would a kidnapper care?” Sean asked as he sliced a piece of cherry pie and slid it onto a paper plate.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  She gave a little flounce as she sank into a chair at the round wooden table. Dylan saw ripe sensuality in every movement she made. If Sean hadn’t been here, he’d tell her. He’d show her how beautiful she was. All he wanted was to be alone with her tonight, to be naked, snuggled under blankets in the bedroom.

  He glared at his brother. “Why did you come here?”

  “Because I’m sick of all these people calling and dropping by the office. They’re driving me crazy.”

  “Tell them to get lost.”

  “I don’t want to turn away potential business,” Sean said. “I want this mess cleaned up.”

  Dylan repeated the words he’d heard Sean say dozens of time. “Even though it’s not a bodyguard’s job to solve the crime?”

  “Even though,” He took a fork from the drawer. “The only way to find Koslov is through the Sherman kid.”

  “I’ve lost track of him.” He’d tried dozens of links and programs, searching for a sign or signature that looked like Tank Sherman’s work. Nothing. “To tell you the truth, I’m glad he’s off the grid. Tank’s a kid, no match for Koslov.”

  Sean went into the fridge and took out the milk carton. “Want some?”

  “A glass of milk goes with pie,” Dylan said. “I want both.”

  “Me, too,” Jayne piped up. “I suppose one of the people popping in and out of your office is my father.”

  “Him and his buddy Javier,” Sean said. “I gave them a project to investigate this afternoon. Find Diego Romero.”

  Her blue eyes flashed. “I thought Romero was really old and never left Venezuela.”

  “Maybe.” Sean poured three glasses of milk. “But if Romero wants something from your father, maybe your dad can negotiate his way out of the kidnapping and move straight to settlement, thereby ending the threat to you.”

  Dylan cut and served the pie. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I want you to look at this.”

  Sean reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled out a scrap of paper and handed it to Dylan.

  “Numbers,” Dylan said as he took a seat at the table.

  “Dots and dashes and more numbers,” Sean said. “I got a call on our supersecure line. You didn’t give that phone number to Tank, did you?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Well, he somehow got it. He wasn’t on the phone. It was a female voice. She recited the numbers and dots twice, told me that you’d understand and hung up.”

  Without knowing the context of the numbers, it took him a moment to grasp what kind of message Tank was sending. “These are GPS coordinates.”

  “I guessed as much.”

  “If I’m not mistaken, this location isn’t far from Buena Vista.” Though certain that Tank didn’t know how to find RSQ Ranch, Dylan might have let slip a mention of something in this area that alerted the kid. “And there’s another code.”

  While they ate their pie and drank their milk, he stared at the markings on the paper and reviewed the code protocols he was familiar with. It was a long list; he’d plotted out a computer game using established codes and two spin-off games from the first one.

  In deep concentration, Dylan was aware of his brother and Jayne talking and he tasted the pie and he felt one of the cats rubbing against his leg under the table. But he wasn’t really present. In his mind, he was scanning an endless warehouse of information, rifling through files, digging for the information that would fit Tank’s code.

  “Got it!”

  He slapped the flat of his hand on the table so hard that the cat at his feet leaped up, bonked its head on the table, screeched and ran away.

  Sean jumped back in his chair. “And that’s why you can’t trust cats. They’re always doing something freaky.”

  “That wasn’t odd behavior.” Jayne reached out and summoned the black-and-white cat named Checkers. As the cat curled up on her lap, Jayne explained. “A startle response is an acceptable way of protecting oneself. You might react the same way to the sound of gunfire.”

  Before they got into an argument, Dylan stood. “Would you like to hear what the code says?”

  They both gave him their attention. Since they really didn’t care about how the code was used, he didn’t bother explaining his process. “The GPS is going to take us into Buena Vista, somewhere near the Arkansas River. The words that I could translate are ‘Key-Yak-Two.’”

  Sean shook his head. “What the...?”

  “I’m guessing there’s a kayak shop. And Tank is hiding on the second floor.”

  “Question,” Sean said. “Why would Tank come so close to RSQ Ranch if he doesn’t know it’s here?”

  “I might have mentioned Buena Vista a couple of times, which would cause him to zoom in on the area.” The hacker kid would love to find the hideout where Dylan created his software. “Oh yeah, and I used photos of the Collegiate Peaks—Mount Princeton and Mount Yale—for the background in a game.”

  Still holding the cat, Jayne bounced to her feet. “It sounds like you found him. Let’s go.”

  “Whoa, there,” Sean said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Her jaw stuck out. “I most certainly am.”

  Dylan weighed the alternatives. If she stayed here, she was unguarded. If she went with them, there could be danger. But she had both Sean and himself to keep her safe.

  Jayne and Sean batted the question back and forth until she firmly announced, “I refuse to stay here by myself.”

  Sean looked at Dylan. “A little help, please.”

  “I’m on her side,” he said. “All in all, I think she’s safer with us than alone.”

  “Thank you, Dylan.” She pivoted and went into the bedroom. “I’ll be changed in a minute.”

  As soon as she left the room, Sean punched his shoulder. “That’s for taking her side over mine.”

  “You know I’m right.” Dylan liked to imagine that RSQ Ranch was completely invisible, but that wasn’t exactly true. With recent advances in surveillance technology, nowhere was truly safe. Too easily, Koslov could locate this place. And Jayne would be at his mercy.

  “We could be walking into an ambush,” Sean said. “You and I can usually kick ass, but we’re talking about an assassin from the Romero drug cartel.”

  “Not looking for a fight,” Dylan said. “We approach with caution. At the first sign of trouble, we call for backup. The local sheriff’s name is Swanson. We’ll alert him before we get there.”

  Dylan went to the front closet, unlocked a hidden panel and took out a green army duffel bag loaded with guns and ammo. Since buying RSQ, he’d given up hunting. It didn’t seem right to be rescuing camels and chasing down elk. But he’d kept his rifles and miscellaneous firepower.

  Sean raised an eyebrow. “That’s a hell of a defense.”

  “Just being prepared. We’ll take two vehicles.”

  Sean reached into a pocket. “Earbuds so we can communicate.”

  “I’ll get a pair for Jayne.”

  He strode across the floor and went into his bedroom/workroom where a couple of screens were devoted to his efforts to locate Tank. On one screen, a driver’s license photo of Tank was displayed. His face was narrow. Though mostly clean shaven, his pointy chin sprouted a pathetic attempt at a goatee.

  Jayne came into the room. “That’s Tank? He looks like a teenager.”

  “He’s twenty-six, only two years younger than me.”

  “And can barely sp
rout a beard—he’s just a kid.” She went up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “You’re definitely a full-grown man.”

  “Do me a favor,” he whispered back.

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t let my brother hear you say that. He’ll never let me forget it.”

  She grinned and stepped back. “I won’t embarrass you.”

  Her nearness fired enough electricity to power the whole valley and beyond. He wished they hadn’t been so abruptly interrupted after sex. There was so much more he wanted to give her and to take from her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The physical awareness of fear, including the adrenaline surge, tightness of breath, tense muscles and urge to scream, became more and more familiar to Jayne. As she sat in the passenger seat of Dylan’s SUV, she felt a tic at the corner of her eye. That was new. The cherry pie she’d just eaten did a tango in her belly.

  If they ran into an assault from the bad guys, there was nothing she could do to stop them. She didn’t know how to shoot and had virtually no skills in hand-to-hand combat. A knife was actually the best weapon for her—she knew the location of important arteries and could slash them in an instant. Or could she? In her Hippocratic Oath, she’d promised not to hurt other people, and she couldn’t imagine committing murder, even in self-defense.

  But when Dylan had wanted to go after Tank, she couldn’t stay behind and wait for him. She had to be at his side. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, determined to stay calm.

  In Dylan’s SUV, they drove from the shelter of the narrow canyon where RSQ Ranch was located. The first time they’d been on this road, Jayne had been sleeping hard, recovering from the drugs, so the surroundings were new to her. She tried not to focus on the shadows where scary things could be lurking. When the headlights emerged from the dark forest, they were on a high mesa above the Arkansas River Valley. Lit by moonlight, the vista was broad and open. No danger could be hiding here.

  She hadn’t been to the mountains all summer, and she marveled—as she always did—at the scope of towering rocks and thick forest. Above it all, a pale half-moon arced high in the star-spattered heavens. She concentrated on the beauty. Forget the fear. A vast swath of land spread below them in an untamed valley enclosed by rugged hills. Since it was the middle of the night, there were few house lights.

  “I should come to the mountains more often,” she said.

  “Now you have a reason,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not the type of person who takes an aimless trip to the mountains. You need a destination. That can be RSQ.”

  “Would I be your guest?”

  “You’d be my guest in my cabin...” His voice took on a husky, seductive tone. “You’d stay in my bed.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I can’t promise we’d be naming giraffe babies after you every time you showed, but there’s usually something interesting going on. You’re welcome to visit when I’m not here, too. There’s plenty of room. And Betty can do with the company. She likes you.”

  “I like her, too.” Her gaze focused on him. His profile, illuminated by the dashboard lights, was strong but not perfect. His nose had a crook that meant it had probably been broken and badly reset. His jaw was too square, but his laid-back smile kept his features from appearing sharp.

  Generally, she preferred men who were neatly dressed and groomed, but there was something about Dylan’s scruffy appearance that made her want to tear his clothes off. Naked, he was amazing. As she thought of Dylan lying in bed, her fears began to fade away. Dylan the porn star? Another identity?

  He was good at disguises but had always been straightforward with her. He had a face she could trust, and that was saying a lot. His brother, Sean? Not so much.

  Dylan glanced toward her. “Are you putting me under a microscope?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “A brain experiment?” His shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “I don’t know why, but you were staring.”

  “I wanted to make a tangible memory of you, a mental picture I could summon whenever I want to see you.”

  “Or you could call me.”

  “Sure.”

  That was what he said right now, but she knew better than to count on a “call me.” More likely, when this was over, they’d go back to Denver, live their separate lives and never see each other again.

  “You don’t believe we’ll stay in touch,” he said. “You think you’re going to have the best sex ever, then turn your back and walk away.”

  Was he a mind reader? “Were you thinking the same thing?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Are we bickering?” she asked.

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Bickering was better than sitting there like a frozen lump of fear. “I think we are.”

  She figured that he was familiar with this winding road because he was driving fast. He went faster. His fingers tensed on the steering wheel.

  “I’ll keep it simple.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I like you, Jayne. We have a lot in common. You’re smart and fun to be around. Among a hundred other positive attributes, you’re great in bed. No way am I turning my back on you.”

  That was what he said now while his memory was still fresh. Only a short while ago, they’d been in bed together. The scent of their passion still clung to her nostrils. She could still taste him on her lips. Would he remember her next week? In a year, would he even recall her name?

  She tried to explain. “I’m not dumping you or anything like that. But there’s a good chance that we’ll say goodbye when I don’t need a bodyguard. It’s just the way things are. We both have busy lives and no time for a relationship.”

  “Instead of starting with the rejection you seem to think is inevitable, start with something good. You like me. I know you do.”

  “No lack of ego on your part.” She was teasing, but she appreciated his confidence. The way she felt about neurosurgery was much the same. She loved her work and knew she was brilliant. “You’ve probably had success with women.”

  “Not great success.”

  She found that hard to believe. “Come on, Dylan. Tell the truth.”

  “I’m almost thirty and not married. Not a winning scorecard,” he said. “My parents are getting real frustrated with me and Sean. He was married once, but she turned out to be a wildcat.”

  “Divorced?”

  “A total reboot.” He waved his hand as though wiping an invisible blackboard. “Forget I said that. Sean’s love life isn’t a good example. I just don’t want you to think I’m looking for a bride. You probably hear enough from your dad about getting hitched.”

  “I made a deal with my dad a long time ago. He doesn’t push me about my lack of a mate or spouse if I don’t get mad at him about his many marriages.” She couldn’t stop herself from adding, “He had his one great love in this lifetime. That was my mom. He’ll never find another like her.”

  He reached across the console and picked up her hand. The warmth of his skin felt delicious. He gave a squeeze. “That’s why you forgive your dad for not understanding you and being demanding. He lost his soul mate and was badly hurt.”

  “Yes,” she said quietly.

  “The same applies to you. You lost your mother. That’s a deep wound.”

  And she’d been to enough psychotherapists to hear dozens of theories about how that loss had affected her. Had she chosen a career in medicine because her mother was a biochemist? Was she trying to be a surrogate for her father? Did she run from relationships with men because she feared love?

  “Complicated,” she said as she mentally slammed the door on those painful theories.

  “I prefer complexity. I could spend a long time trying to figure yo
u out.”

  “You make it sound like that would be fun.”

  “It would be.”

  This conversation was taking an odd twist. They were talking about the future and the past all at once. On the plus side, she wasn’t scared anymore. “Betty Burton told me that you spent a lot of time alone when you were a kid.”

  “I still do,” he said. “And I’m going out on a limb and guessing that you were a loner kid, too.”

  “Making friends was hard while I was skipping from one grade to the next. I was always around people who were older. I dated guys who were older.”

  “That must have been a treat for your dad.”

  She cringed inside, acknowledging that on the occasions when her dad paid attention to what she was doing, he didn’t approve. And, sometimes, his judgments were on-target.

  When she’d been sixteen years old and preparing to graduate premed from Stanford, she’d thought that she was madly in love with a drama student in his senior year. He was twenty...and gorgeous...and the biggest narcissist she’d ever known. His ego was the size of the Dumbo balloon in the Thanksgiving parade, but all she saw was the glitter in his eyes, the blinding white glare of his teeth and the mahogany-tanned ridges of his six-pack abs.

  She’d gone after him with laser-focused determination, studying fashion magazines as though they were medical texts. She’d colored her dark brown hair with sexy platinum streaks, learned how to do a “smoky eye” makeup and bought a bra that transformed her A-cups into plump, healthy C’s.

  In the back of his Lexus, she’d given him her virginity. The sex was pathetic, messy and totally unsatisfying, even though she’d studied sex, too. Deciding it must be her fault because he was so gorgeous, she’d tried again and again.

  Finally, in an act of sheer desperation, she offered to drop out of medical school and move to New York with him. That was when the best thing ever happened—he broke up with her.

  “I didn’t do well,” she said, “with relationships when I was growing up. What about you?”

  “I was a typical computer geek. I’d get buried in my calculations. Every spare minute, I was on my computer.”