“Oh, just up the road a piece.” The man shifted gears.
They came up over a hill.
Terror crashed through Isabel.
Down below was the warehouse with the snowplows. The man reached into the side compartment of the door and pulled out a pistol, which he aimed at Isabel. His voice grew sinister and dark. “Don’t think about jumping out or fighting back. I’ll shoot her faster than you can blink.”
The truck rolled down the hill so fast, it would have been dangerous to try to escape. The parking lot was empty except for one car. Theirs was nowhere in sight and Nick’s black truck was gone.
Isabel’s heart pounded against her rib cage. The man parked the truck, still pointing the gun at her. “Now we’re going to go inside. No funny business. Got that?”
They both nodded.
“I’ll get out of the cab first, understand,” the redheaded man said.
She stared at the barrel of the gun and nodded. Her hands were trembling, and her mouth had gone completely dry.
The man pulled the keys out of the ignition. He smiled. This time she saw the darkness behind his eyes. “Just in case you were going to try something.”
Snow swirled lightly out of the sky as the man marched them into the warehouse. Isabel glanced at Jason, trying to read his expression. It was two against one, even if one had a gun.
Jason lifted his head in a nod, indicating that they should try to take the man with the gun.
Isabel stopped.
“Keep moving.” The redheaded man aimed the gun at her.
Jason used the moment of distraction to whirl around and kick the gun out of the man’s hand. It flew, landing in deep snow. While she ran to find the gun, Isabel heard the slap of skin against skin as the men exchanged blows.
Heart racing, she scanned the snow for the gun while the men continued to fight.
Then she heard it. The click of a shotgun shell being ratcheted into the chamber. “Put your hands in the air.”
She turned, staring into the cold eyes of the short muscular man who had come after her at the Wilsons’ house. Mr. Gun.
“You too.” The short man aimed the gun at Jason.
The redheaded man scrambled in the snow to retrieve his handgun and then pointed it at Isabel.
“I told you not to try anything funny,” he said between gasps for air.
Jason and Isabel marched side by side. She wasn’t about to give up. There had to be a way to get free. The man with the handgun ran ahead and opened the door. Just outside the glass-walled office, they stepped out onto a mezzanine that provided a view of the entire facility.
All the plows were back in place. There was no one behind the glass of the office or down below by the plows.
The men led them down to the room where the snowplow parts were stored and commanded them to sit on the floor with their backs to each other. The redhead bound their hands and gagged their mouths with duct tape and tied the two of them together with rope back to back.
“Now, you just sit tight until the boss gets back. He can decide what to do with you.” The man traced a finger down Isabel’s cheek. “At which time, I get to collect a bonus for finding you.”
He winked at Isabel, rose to his feet and slipped out the door. Mr. Gun followed. The door closed. As far as she could see, there were only two men in the facility right now. If they could get out of this room, they might be able to escape.
Jason wriggled, struggling to break free. Isabel twisted her hands, hoping to loosen the duct tape that bound them. Her wrists hurt from the effort.
After a moment of stillness, his head brushed against the back of hers as he studied his surroundings. He scooted across the floor toward the metal shelves that held the motor parts. Isabel pushed with her feet to move with him. He must have seen something on the shelf that might help them escape.
She had no idea what his plan was or when “the boss” would return and decide how to kill them. She had no doubt their death was imminent if they didn’t find a way to escape their captors and get to one of those vehicles.
NINETEEN
Jason had spotted a piece of metal protruding from one of the lower shelves. He might be able to cut himself free and then remove the duct tape from Isabel, as well. He lifted his hands, which were tied in front of him, and scraped the tape along the metal.
Even though he had no idea if they had ten minutes to escape or ten hours, a sense of urgency made it feel like there was a weight on his chest. He sawed back and forth as the layers of duct tape were cut away. He was nearly free when he heard footsteps outside the room.
They both scooted back across the floor to where they had been put. Jason pressed the cut tape back around his wrists and held his hands as though they were still bound. The door burst open and the redheaded man stepped in.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Boss is back. Just a few minutes and we’ll get this mess wrapped up.” The man punched his fist against his palm and narrowed his eyes. His expression chilled Jason to the bone.
The man grinned. “Don’t go anywhere now.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I crack myself up.” He closed the door.
Jason listened to the man’s boots pounding on the concrete floor before twisting free of the rope that bound him to Isabel. He tore the gag off his mouth, and then, still crouching, he came to help Isabel. She stared up at him. He touched the corner of the duct tape on her mouth. “This will hurt.”
She nodded, her eyes filled with trust. He ripped it off in one quick motion. A tiny gasp escaped her lips.
He tried to peel the tape off her hands. He pulled, winding the layers of tape off her wrists until she was free.
He ran to the outside door they had used when they first entered the building. Locked.
“Let’s see if we can find another way out.” They wove through the shelves that reached up to the high ceiling until they found a back door. The door opened to a landing and a stairwell leading upward.
It was too much to hope that it would lead them straight outside.
He pressed against the wall and stepped lightly up the stairs. Isabel touched his arm as she stood one step below him. At the top of the stairs, he eased the door open slowly.
Raised voices drifted down a hallway. He slipped through the door, not daring to open it all the way, and then he crouched on the carpet. They must be in the hallway behind the glass-walled office.
Three men were arguing. The only voice he recognized was Nick’s.
He couldn’t pick up all the conversation. It sounded like an argument over money for a job they’d just done. Thundering footsteps came up the hallway into the office as the voice of the man who had tied them up blasted through the room. “They’ve escaped.”
Jason angled around the corner just in time to see three men running out of the office. Nick, the man who had been kissing the maid and a third man—Larry, the FBI agent who had picked them up when they’d escaped from the Wilsons’ house. Now they knew who the turncoat was.
All the men ran in the opposite direction of where Isabel and he were hiding. The fourth man, the redhead, trailed behind. He waited until he heard the sound of the slamming door and moved toward the office. Isabel grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”
“There’s probably a phone in there.” He stepped into the empty office and she entered behind him. “We can call Michael now. He’s not the turncoat.”
“I don’t think we have time to wait for help. We should get out of here.”
Her thinking was clearer than his.
“I’m sure they will send a man out to the parking lot to make sure we can’t get to those cars.”
Light came into Isabel’s eyes. “The snowplows. They won’t be expecting us to use one of the snowplows.”
He peered through the glass wall of the office. Down below, a man ran by. Jason
and Isabel crouched out of view but where they were still able to watch the activity. The man looked from side to side and then took a door that led to the parking lot.
They heard the thunder of footsteps up metal stairs.
They needed to get out of here and fast. The door they’d come through led back to the parts storage room. Jason ran down the hallway and tried another door that had stairs leading down. Just as he closed the door he heard voices in the hallway headed back toward the office.
There were at least five men in all. The three who had been in the office and two who had tied them up. He had to assume that at least one of those men would remain in the glass office watching the snowplow area. This plan was fraught with risk, but it was the best they had. The stairs opened up on the floor where the plows were. Jason pressed against a wall by the door so shadows covered him.
Sure enough, the man who must be the boss or owner, and was probably the mastermind behind all the smuggling, stared down from his office. Even if they stayed close to the wall, there was a ten-foot stretch where they’d be spotted before they could hide behind one of the plows.
Isabel remained at the base of the stairs, door slightly ajar, waiting for the signal from him. He could just make out her face in the little slit where the door was open.
Jason tilted his head and watched the man above them, waiting for a second of distraction when he and Isabel could traverse the area where they’d be visible.
The seconds ticked by. The man continued to survey the area below. Jason became aware of the hardness of the wall against his back, of his own breathing and of Isabel perched behind the partly open door, her gaze fixed on him.
Finally the short muscular man, Mr. Gun, came into the office and the owner turned his back to Jason.
Jason bolted toward the first snowplow. The soft padding of Isabel’s footsteps behind him pressed on his ears. He crouched in front of the machine in between the plow blade and the garage door. Easing around to the side, he glanced up. The owner was staring out the office window again. Jason shrank back into the shadows as his heart pounded out an erratic beat. No way could he climb into the cab and not be spotted. That meant they would have only seconds to get out of the warehouse before someone would be on their tail.
He slipped back around to the front of the plow by the blade where Isabel still hid.
She leaned close and whispered in his ear. “The plow on the end doesn’t have any lights shining on it.”
He peered down the line of plow blades before nodding that her idea was the most viable one. They scurried from one plow to the next. He eased open the cab door of the last plow. Isabel got in after him on the other side.
He stared down at the control panel, trying to get his bearings, grateful to see that the key was in the ignition.
“The garage door. There’s a switch.” Before he could say anything, she had jumped out of the cab and headed toward the wall.
He started the vehicle as the door eased open and Isabel raced to get back in the cab. Now for sure they’d be noticed. He eased the plow forward even before the door was all the way open.
Isabel grabbed hold of the door and tried to climb into the cab as the tracks of the plow rolled forward. He reached out a hand and pulled her in.
Two men were behind them. One jumped onto the cab of the plow.
Jason hit the accelerator as the plow eased forward onto the flat area outside the garage doors. Another garage door opened, and the lights of a second plow glared out at them.
Jason gained speed, climbing the hill toward the road. He chose the steeper terrain, hoping that would get rid of the unwanted guest clinging to the outside of the cab.
The man jumped off. Jason caught a glimpse of movement as the man raised a gun.
“Get down.” He threw a protective hand over Isabel. Gunfire shattered the glass of the cab and rained down on them. His skin stung where the glass cut him. A chilly breeze blew in around them.
The plow lumbered up to the road that led back into town. Top speed looked to be about thirty miles an hour.
The other plow slipped in behind them.
Isabel sat back up, craning her neck. “Nick is in the other plow.”
Jason pressed the gas pedal to the floor, wishing they could go faster. He turned out onto the main road. One of the cars from the warehouse passed him and then slowed to a crawl. Nick was still bearing down on them in the plow.
“They’re trying to box us in.” Jason stared at the road ahead, where a car was coming toward them. He couldn’t risk the life of an innocent person.
He eased off the gas.
The car going in the opposite direction whizzed by.
Metal scraped against metal as Nick rammed into the back of them. Both of them jostled around in their seats.
Jason pressed the gas, turned the wheel and prepared to ease around the slow car in front of him. The car edged onto the wrong side of the road.
“Fine—that’s how you’re gonna play it?” Jason jerked the wheel in the other direction. The blade collided with the car as Jason pushed him toward a ditch.
The car was no match for the power of the plow. With one final push, the car slid into a snowbank. But Nick still rolled toward them.
Nick rammed against the side of them with the blade raised.
Jason pressed the accelerator and cranked the wheel as the other plow pushed them down the road sideways. He disentangled his plow from Nick’s.
Jason rolled forward off the road to get away from Nick. The tracks of the plow bit through the snow as they lumbered up a hill and down the other side. Nick was right behind them.
The hill grew steeper. The plow listed to one side.
“We’re going to tip over.” Isabel’s fear-filled words seemed to come from far away as he struggled to get the machine onto stable ground.
The plow rolled over on its side, and Isabel fell on top of him.
The motor was still running. Tiny gasps escaped Isabel’s lips as she struggled to right herself. She climbed out the back of the cab’s broken window.
Jason pushed himself up. His hands were bleeding from the broken glass. He pulled himself through the same opening Isabel had used. Isabel jumped down into the snow.
Nick was maybe twenty feet from them, still behind the wheel of the other plow. The headlights glared at them.
Isabel took off running before Jason had jumped down off the plow. Drops of blood in the snow revealed that she was cut up, as well. He raced after her as the plow drew closer, the engine noise surrounding them.
* * *
Isabel felt the warm seep of blood on her forehead as she struggled to navigate through the deep snow.
The clanging of the plow’s motor stopped. She looked over her shoulder. Not wanting to risk the same outcome as their plow, Nick had turned the motor off and was crawling out of the cab. He held a gun in his hand.
Jason was at least twenty yards behind her and struggling even more than she was. She lifted her feet one after the other as she slogged up the snowy hillside. When this was over—if they survived—she never wanted to trudge through snow again.
A gunshot echoed across the terrain. She winced but kept moving, trusting that Jason would catch up with her.
She was nearly to the tree line when she looked over her shoulder. Jason was lying facedown on the ground.
Her heart stopped. She was out of pistol range, but if she ran back to help him, she would be a target too.
She turned and hurried back down the hill toward Jason. If they both died out here today, fine. She wasn’t about to abandon a good man to the forces of evil. Before she could get to him, Jason rose to his feet. His hands were bloody and he’d left stains in the snow.
He signaled for her to keep running. Nick was having as much trouble navigating the deep snow as they were. The only way he could aim a
shot was to stop moving.
She heard another bullet whiz through the air just as she reached the tree line. She slowed, looking behind her for Jason.
Finding a large tree with long branches, she hid underneath it, peering out and hoping to see Jason’s boots. She caught her breath as the minutes ticked by. She heard a rustling off to the side and a moment later saw Nick’s dark boots moving past.
What was going on here? Where was Jason?
She rolled out from underneath the tree and headed back toward the tree line. Down below, Jason had crawled into the cab of the working plow. He must have doubled back once Nick entered the trees and had no view of the plow. He signaled for her to come back down.
Her feet sank three feet down as she struggled to get to Jason. A pistol shot zinged past, close enough to send shock waves through her. She heard groaning behind her. Nick had fallen in the deep snow.
Jason got out of the cab and waved his arm, indicating she should get down the hill. The pistol rested on the surface of the snow.
Once and for all, she would see to it that Nick Solomon wouldn’t escape justice ever again. She hurried toward the gun and picked it up.
“Get on your feet.” Her voice held unexpected strength.
Nick pushed himself up. He was covered in snow. “Oh, come on. You’re not going to shoot, Blondie.”
“Try me.” She aimed the pistol close to Nick’s feet and squeezed the trigger.
“Whoa.” Shock spread across Nick’s face as he did a jig with his feet and held his hands up in surrender.
She could never shoot anyone. Nick just needed to know who was in control now. “My name is not Blondie. It’s Isabel.”
Jason came up behind her. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.” Jason held a scarf that he must have found in the cab of the plow.
Nick sneered. Isabel raised the pistol and pointed it at him. Nick glared but turned his back to them and put his hands together behind him.
They led Nick down the hill with his hands bound. Isabel held the gun while Jason drove. Once they were out on the road, he checked the rearview mirror several times.
Mountain Secrets Page 35
