The Legend of Smuggler's Cave

by Paula Graves

  Her gaze met his, direct and unflinching. “I don’t think there is. So I have to know—will you back me on this? Or do you plan to fight me?”

  The thought of Briar going into Culpepper’s lair, unarmed and alone, was unthinkable. And yet he knew she was asking him to not only think it but support her decision.

  She wanted him to trust her instincts, to believe that she knew what she was doing and could bring her son home safely. And, God help him, he couldn’t refuse anything she asked. Not even this.

  “Okay. I’ll back you. But I want to be there with you.”

  She shook her head sharply. “No.”

  “I won’t go in with you. I’ll let you play it however you want. But I’m going to be outside whatever lair your cousin’s holed up in. No way in hell do I let you walk in there without backup. Are you going to back me on that? Or do you plan to fight me?”

  She stared up at him, the look in her eyes a mixture of consternation and affection as she recognized her own words thrown back at her. “You’re a lawyer, you know. You can’t even shoot a rifle worth a damn.”

  “You’re good for a man’s self-esteem, Briar. Anyone ever tell you that?”

  A bleak look passed over her face, and he realized he’d touched a nerve.

  Tugging her closer, he bent and whispered in her ear. “You make me want to be a better man. You make me believe it’s possible.”

  Her eyes flickered up to meet his as he backed away. One small work-roughened hand rose to his face, her thumb sliding over his lips the way he’d touched hers. “When this is over...”

  He silenced her with a soft kiss.

  The sound of a throat clearing drew them apart. They both looked toward the doorway, where Nix stood, his expression bemused. “We have a location.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I wish we had time to wire you,” Doyle grumbled as he looked from his brother to Briar. “But you’re right. We need to move fast, before he’s had time to wonder why his men aren’t reporting back.”

  “What about those two?” Dalton nodded toward the two men in cuffs.

  “Dana and Nix will stay with them. We’re not going to call this in to the station until we have a chance to get Logan away from Culpepper,” Doyle answered. Unspoken in his reply was the unsettling knowledge that they still weren’t sure who in the police station could be trusted.

  “There’s a copy of this disk on the computer in my bedroom,” Briar said quietly. “Maybe, if these files are what we think they are, they’ll be able to tell you a lot more about who’s a friend and who’s not.”

  “I need a weapon,” Dalton said.

  Briar handed him the Glock he’d returned to her earlier at the house. She wasn’t going to need it in the cabin on Smoky Ridge where Blake was holed up with her son. “Fifteen rounds, plus one in the chamber.”

  He nodded, looking both worried and determined. If she hadn’t already been more than halfway in love with him, she’d have loved him a little just for backing her up on this risky plan. She knew she was asking a lot of him. Of all of them. She was asking them to put their trust in her to handle herself in a battle of wills with one of the most dangerous men in the Smoky Mountains, with her son’s life at stake.

  “Dalton and I will come with you up to the cabin. Then we’ll wait.”

  “We can’t wire her up,” Dalton murmured, “but what if we listen in through her cell phone?”

  “He may take my phone as soon as I enter the cabin,” she warned.

  “And he may not. But even if he does, your phone display can go black even when a call is connected, right?”

  She nodded, understanding his point. “And he may not think to check if it’s on.”

  “Good idea,” Doyle said. The look of pleasure on Dalton’s face at his brother’s approval would have been comical if it weren’t so poignant. Briar had a feeling Tallie Cumberland’s children were going to end up being a family after all.

  Blake Culpepper’s choice of hideouts was pretty brilliant, Briar had to concede as she led Dalton and Doyle through the thickening woods. The cabin was the old Cumberland homestead, abandoned years earlier when the inhabitants of Cherokee Cove had driven the accursed family from their midst after Tallie Cumberland’s troubles with the Sutherlands and Hales. It was the one place in Cherokee Cove that nobody would ever think to go, for fear of the curse rubbing off on them.

  The place was secluded but not particularly primitive. It had indoor plumbing and electricity. Briar assumed, as they came within sight of the mountain cabin, Blake had probably figured out a way to pirate the electricity that now lit up a room in the back of the small wooden structure. He was hardly a man who’d blink at such an easy bit of theft.

  She paused and turned to her companions. Doyle was looking through narrowed eyes at the cabin, but Dalton’s gaze was firmly on her. She felt an odd little thrill at being his singular focus at this peril-fraught moment.

  “Be careful,” he said, and there was a wealth of unspoken emotion behind his words. She felt an answering flood of feeling building like a fire in the center of her chest.

  She pulled out her cell phone. “Your phone’s on vibrate?”

  He nodded.

  She dialed his number. His cell phone buzzed. He swiped the screen and she lifted her phone to her ear, locking gazes with him as she spoke softly into the phone. “Let’s bring Logan home.”

  His eyes glittered as he nodded. “Don’t stop talking. If you stop talking, I might be tempted to come in and get you.”

  “If I stop talking, go in there and get my boy.” She reached across the narrow space between them, touching her hand to his chest. “Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  Doyle touched her shoulder. “We both promise. Take care.” He nodded toward the cabin.

  Her heart pounding like thunder, she walked slowly into the clearing.

  Half expecting to be cut down by bullets before she reached the porch, she was surprised to make it all the way to the cabin’s front door without incident. But she wasn’t shocked when the door whipped open before she could lift her hand to knock and the double barrels of a shotgun greeted her.

  Blake Culpepper stood behind the shotgun, his dark eyes narrow with suspicion. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered with disgust. “I should have known not to send a couple of idiots to grab another Culpepper.”

  “I’m a Blackwood,” she answered tartly, quelling the quiver of fear rattling through her. “That’s really why you went after me, isn’t it? Because of what Johnny took?”

  He gave the shotgun a sideways twitch and backed up a few feet. Briar took the gesture as all the invitation she was going to get. Moving slowly, she entered the cabin, barely suppressing a flinch as the door shut behind her, slammed in place by one sharp kick of Blake’s boot.

  “Where is my son?” She lifted her chin and met her cousin’s gaze.

  His eyes glittered with almost indulgent amusement, as if he were watching a fluffy kitten show its tiny claws. Good, she thought. Keep thinking I’m harmless.

  “Where are the files?” he countered.

  She reached for the flash drive in the front pocket of her jeans. He jerked the barrel of the shotgun toward her. “Uh-uh.”

  Pressing her lips flat with revulsion, she stood still while he moved his hands over her body, looking for any sign of a weapon. She was clean, of course; she’d brought with her only her cell phone and the flash drive. Even her pocketknife was stashed in the pocket of Dalton’s jacket.

  As they’d hoped, Blake didn’t bother checking to see if the phone was engaged. He shoved it back at her, and she slipped it back into the pocket of her windbreaker. He kept the flash drive, looking at it through narrowed eyes. For a moment the barrel of the shotgun dipped away from her, and she gauged her ch
ance of overpowering him.

  Not good, she decided. And too early. She couldn’t be sure Blake had her son here in this cabin, despite the assurances of his henchmen back at her cabin. She needed to see Logan, make sure he was safe, before she took any risky chances.

  “You have the files,” she said. “Where is Logan?”

  “I have a memory stick,” he said bluntly, bringing up the barrel of the shotgun again. “Could be pictures of your Dollywood trip, for all I know.”

  “Never been to Dollywood,” she answered. “Always wanted to, but money being short—”

  He answered with another sideways twitch of the gun. “The kid’s back here.” He waited for her to move toward the doorway leading to the back of the cabin, then followed, the barrel of the shotgun flattening against her spine, right between her shoulder blades.

  Right where her heart was hammering like a carpenter on speed.

  * * *

  “MAMA!” LOGAN’S VOICE, coming over the cell phone with tinny clarity, made Dalton’s whole body rattle with relief. He looked up at Doyle, who grinned back at him as Briar’s phone crooned endearments to her son. There was a soft swishing sound over the phone—Briar sweeping her little boy into her arms and hugging him tight?

  It’s what Dalton would have done in the same situation.

  “Why don’t you and your boy catch up while I take a look at these files?” Blake Culpepper’s gravelly voice sounded sly through the phone. He was up to something, Dalton thought with a flutter of alarm. Could Briar hear it, too?

  “Why don’t we come up front with you instead?” she asked.

  “You really don’t take this shotgun seriously, do you?”

  “I take it very seriously,” she countered, sounding confident and calm. She was, Dalton thought, an utterly remarkable woman. He didn’t deserve a woman like that in his life, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try to keep her there anyway.

  “Ah, hell. Why not? You’ve probably made copies of it already, haven’t you?” Blake sounded more resigned than annoyed, making Dalton wonder if he had been right about why Blake wanted his hands on the files. If he planned to use them to eliminate his competition, it probably didn’t matter much to him if the police brought in his foes and saved him some of the trouble.

  “You think you can avoid capture, don’t you?” Briar’s tone sounded more conversational than confrontational.

  “Ain’t nobody knows these woods better than a Culpepper, darlin’. You know that better than most.”

  She didn’t argue. Over the phone, Dalton heard the sound of footsteps as well as the soft murmur of Logan’s little-boy voice saying something Dalton couldn’t quite make out. Briar’s answer was a soft shushing sound, a mother trying to keep her son from drawing unwanted attention.

  “Stay right here, Logan. Stay close to Mama.” Dalton heard the soft thud of feet shuffling on the floor. Had she set the little boy down? He wondered why she’d let him go instead of holding on tight.

  He didn’t like the answer that came to mind.

  “Let’s see what’s on these files,” Blake said. The faint sound of metal scraping metal drifted over the phone line. Dalton tried to picture what was happening in the cabin, but all his mind seemed able to focus on was why Briar had set her son down instead of holding him close.

  What was she planning?

  * * *

  BRIAR SLOWLY BENT her knees, easing into a crouch next to her son as Blake pulled up a metal folding chair to the table where a laptop computer sat open, its screen dark. He had settled himself where he could see her, but he’d leaned the shotgun against the wall beside him, as if he no longer considered her much of a threat.

  Big mistake, she thought with rising confidence.

  But she still had to be careful. Logan could easily get hurt if she tried to overpower Blake and take away the shotgun. She couldn’t move yet. Not while Logan was in the room.

  She hugged Logan close, nuzzling his neck. He was sweaty and a little grimy, but he still smelled like heaven to her. “How you doin’, little man?” she murmured in his ear, glancing at Blake to see if he was listening.

  His attention was focused on the files now opening on the laptop.

  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  Blake didn’t react, but Logan answered, “He yells.”

  Blazing fury shot up her gullet and filled her throat with rage. She tamped it down and glanced at Blake again.

  “Logan,” she whispered, “when I say go, I want you to run out the door, okay? Just nod.”

  Logan nodded solemnly.

  She glanced at Blake again. He was smiling at the laptop screen as he pulled up photo after photo. “Gotta hand it to Johnny,” he said. “He was thorough.”

  “How did you know he had the files?” She pushed to a standing position and edged sideways, putting Logan firmly behind her.

  Blake looked up at her briefly. “He tried to sell them to Merritt Cortland. He’d heard tell Merritt was trying to undercut old man Cortland. I guess he thought Merritt would be willing to shell out a few bucks to get his hands on the files.”

  Her heart sank a little. So much for Johnny’s intentions being honorable. “Merritt wasn’t buying?”

  Blake shrugged, turning back to the computer. “Merritt made the mistake of thinking Johnny had the files on him. He stabbed first and asked questions later. Too much later.”

  Her blood ran cold. Blake was talking about Johnny’s murder with as little feeling as if he’d been discussing putting poison on an anthill. Briar may have fallen out of love with her husband by the time he was murdered, but he’d been her first love and the father of her son. To hear his murder discussed with such heartless dispassion made her want to grab the shotgun and start shooting things.

  She managed to remain motionless, her gaze firmly on Blake’s profile. She studied him, looking for an opening.

  He opened another file, and his eyes widened. He murmured a string of profanities, leaning closer to the computer.

  Now, she thought.

  She reached behind her and touched Logan’s head. “Go!”

  She heard his little feet pattering toward the door. Blake was slow to react, but when he realized what was happening, he reached for the shotgun.

  She launched herself at him, her shoulder slamming into the barrel of the shotgun before it swung around to face her. With a deafening blast, the shotgun went off.

  * * *

  TWO THINGS HAPPENED in quick succession. First, the door of the cabin opened and Logan Blackwood came running out, his tiny legs churning.

  And second, a shotgun blast split the silence of the deepening night.

  Dalton and Doyle moved at the same time, brushing shoulders briefly as they ran. By the time they reached the cabin steps, Logan had made his way down them. With a glance at his brother, Dalton churned his way past the little boy and up the steps, leaving Doyle to scoop up the boy and run him back to safety.

  Dalton faltered to a stop in the cabin doorway. Briar and Blake were standing upright but twisted around each other as they grappled, the shotgun perilously clutched between them. Though Blake was larger than Briar by at least seventy pounds and six inches, she had a mother’s fierceness on her side, and she was close to taking him down to the ground.

  But the shotgun was too close to her face. Only one blast had sounded, and the weapon had two barrels.

  She’d told him to shoot for center mass, but her center mass was too damned close to Culpepper’s. So he did the only thing he knew to do. He walked up boldly behind Blake and pressed the gun to the back of the man’s neck. “I will kill you,” he said in a tone so calm and emotionless that he almost didn’t recognize his own voice.

  Blake froze in place. But Briar didn’t. Jerking the shotgun from his loosening grip,
she slammed the butt of the gun right in her cousin’s gut.

  Air whooshed from Blake’s chest, and he sagged backward, nearly toppling Dalton to the floor. Dalton braced his legs and kept the pistol pointed at the man’s head as he struggled to keep Blake on his feet.

  “Let him go,” Briar demanded. She’d shifted the shotgun into shooting position, the barrel aimed squarely at her cousin’s midsection.

  “Put it down,” Dalton said, alarm crawling up his spine at the look of sheer feral rage in her thundercloud eyes.

  She shook her head, her gaze pinned to Blake’s face. “Is Merritt Cortland still alive?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  Blake made a groaning sound, still trying to suck in air.

  “Is that bastard still alive?” Briar demanded, pushing the barrel of the shotgun right up to Blake’s chest.

  “Briar, put down the shotgun,” Dalton said. “If you shoot him, you’ll shoot me.”

  Her gaze flickered up to meet his, and some of the fire he saw burning behind her eyes cooled to just a flicker. She released a long, gusty breath, pain lining her features. “Merritt Cortland murdered Johnny.”

  “I know. I heard.”

  Her face started to crumple, and she backed away, lowering the shotgun barrel. With shaking hand, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket, pushed a couple of buttons and lifted the phone to her ear. “Chief? We could use a little help.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “This information is explosive.” Tom Bevill’s voice was usually enough to make Dalton snap to attention, but he couldn’t seem to drag his gaze away from Briar’s pale face. She sat across the police station foyer from him, rocking her sleeping son in her lap. Her gray-eyed gaze was distant and unfocused, making him wonder what she was thinking.

  “Are you listening to me, Dalton?”

  Dalton looked at his boss. “The files were all we hoped for?”

  “And more. We have names, events—it’s a treasure trove of actionable evidence as well as new threads for future investigations.” Bevill’s smile was almost wistful. “Makes me want to rethink my plans to retire.”