Stolen Moments
Stolen Moments
B.J. Daniels
She needed protection for herself–and her baby…With ebony hair and bottomless eyes, Seth Gantry was the kind of man Olivia "Levi" McCord's father warned her about–and the last man on earth she'd ever fall for. Especially after the sinewy cowboy kidnapped her.Seth claimed to be her bodyguard and that he needed to take her to a safe house. But when the Montana mountain cabin blows up, he becomes all that stands between Levi and an untimely death. Running for their lives and with no one to trust, Levi is at the mercy of the sexiest man she'd ever met. Suddenly she isn’t certain whether the real danger comes from the killer on her trail…or the virile cowboy who's vowed to keep her alive.
A daughter, a son, a secret…
With ebony hair and bottomless eyes, Seth Gantry was the kind of man Olivia “Levi” McCord’s father warned her about--and the last man on earth she’d ever fall for. Especially after the sinewy cowboy kidnapped her.
Seth claimed to be her bodyguard and that he needed to take her to a safe house. But when the Montana mountain cabin blows up, he becomes all that stands between Levi and an untimely death. Running for their lives and with no one to trust, Levi is at the mercy of the sexiest man she’d ever met. Suddenly she isn’t certain whether the real danger comes from the killer on her trail…or the virile cowboy who’s vowed to keep her alive.
Previously Published.
He’d give her the truth—whether she could handle it or not
“The least you could do is come up with a good story,” Levi snapped, eyes blazing, before he could speak.
Seth hit the brakes, but it wasn’t until the car stopped that he looked over at her. She had the handcuffed hand braced against the seat, and she looked at him like he were a madman.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he ground out. “I don’t have to come up with any story. I was hired to bring you here. Let’s not kid ourselves. Someone took care of your bodyguards, someone blew up the cabin. I may be going out on a limb here but I think we were supposed to be inside it.”
“What are you saying?” She swallowed hard.
“That someone knows too much about you and me.
Someone who wants us both dead.’
“That’s ridiculous. I might have been kidnapped for money, but kill me? Why?” When he shook his head, she went on. “Don’t you know anything?”
“I might not be the knight in shining armor you hoped for, princess, but I’m all you’ve got.”
“What if I preferred to save myself instead of—”
He cut her off. “You wouldn’t last twenty-four hours on your own.”
Her eyes narrowed and pierced his. “How do I know I’ll last twenty-four hours with you?”
Dear Reader (#ub1c44a59-ebea-5630-af47-a7e79a9cd077),
When actions of the past come home to haunt Senator James Marshall McCord, Texas rancher and recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor, he knows he must protect the people he loves most in the world—his family. But he’ll need some help from three very rugged, very determined men.
Mills & Boon Intrigue is proud to bring together three of your favorite authors in a new miniseries: THE McCORD FAMILY COUNTDOWN.
Starting in October get swept away by a mysterious bodyguard in #533 Stolen Moments by B.J. Daniels. Then meet the sexy town sheriff in #537 Memories at Midnight by Joanna Wayne. And finally, feel safe in the strong arms of a tough city cop in #541 Each Precious Hour by Gayle Wilson.
In a race against time, only love can save them. Don’t miss a minute!
Enjoy,
Denise O’Sullivan
Associate Senior Editor
Mills & Boon Books
300 East 42nd Street
New York, NY 10017
Stolen Moments
B.J. Daniels
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAST OF CHARACTERS (#ub1c44a59-ebea-5630-af47-a7e79a9cd077)
Seth Gantry—The cowboy thought he had problems. Then he kidnapped Olivia “Levi” McCord and discovered what real trouble was!
Olivia “Levi” McCord—She became the pawn in a game of life or death, but not for the reason she suspected.
Alex Wells—The convicted murderer was out on parole. But did he really want to go straight or get even?
Jerilyn Ryers—She was Seth’s partner in the security business, but was that all she wanted from the handsome cowboy?
Shanna Stanley—She was a heartbreaker who fell in love with the wrong man.
Delbert Bergstrom—He thought he could help his nephew start a new life. He was dead wrong.
Wally Stanley—He was the only person who knew the truth—but someone was determined he’d never tell.
Billy Bob Larson—He carried a grudge since Vietnam, but how far would he go to destroy McCord?
Senator James Marshall McCord—His passion was potitics—but not at the cost of his family.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ub1c44a59-ebea-5630-af47-a7e79a9cd077)
B.J. DANIELS lives in Livingston, Montana, one of the windiest places on earth. But just like her heroine in Stolen Moments, B.J. believes home is where the heart is, regardless of the weather. And both B.J. and her heroine’s heart reside in Montana with the men they love.
B.J. loves to hear from readers. Write to her at: P.O. Box 183, Bozeman, MT 59771.
This book is humbly dedicated to my friends
Chris and Use who opened their arms and their
home to me, fed me better than I deserve and always
have a cold Diet Coke waiting for me.
Thanks for always being there.
Table of Contents
Cover (#u450ccca3-3c32-5fb0-a4fa-82296c9dd198)Back Cover Text (#uebead76f-5fc7-5a4c-9323-46ca173fdc29) Dear Reader Title Page (#udadc336f-39d5-56cf-9827-295a8be30c80) CAST OF CHARACTERS ABOUT THE AUTHOR Dedication (#u8d510664-833a-5275-89ba-be363846033e) Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Extract (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_7b25a198-b6aa-5ce7-82a7-ef0c6eb120f7)
Thanksgiving Day
Thursday, November 25, 1999
“Olivia? Olivia?”
“Levi!” Natalie whispered beside her.
With a start, Levi glanced up from her plate to see her friend Natalie making eye motions toward the head of the table. Levi shifted her gaze to find her father standing, wineglass in hand, waiting patiently. And she realized he’d been calling her name. Her given name.
For the second time that afternoon, James Marshall McCord had her worried. He never called her Olivia. She’d been Levi since infancy, leaving little doubt how much he’d hoped for a son. But she’d never minded. She liked “Levi.” It fit the tomboy she’d been, the ranch woman she’d become. It fit her in a way she suspected “Olivia” never would.
“Levi?” he asked, smiling down the table at her. “Are you all right?”
That was exactly what she wanted to ask him. She met his gaze and saw something flicker in his blue eyes. He’d lied. And he knew that she knew it.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, brushing a tendril of hair back from her face. Her hair was long and dark, a wild mane of loose waves that fell to the middle of her back. Unlike her father’s once pale blond, straight hair. His blond had changed to white over the years, making him look even more distinguished. Levi, she was told, had taken after her mother in not only her looks and hair, but her strong-willed temperament.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid I wasn’t listening.”
James Marshall laughed, his gaze lingering affectionately on her for a long moment. “It’s all right, Levi. I know how politics bores you and lately that’s all we’ve talked about. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
Levi felt like the traitor she was. She didn’t just dislike politics, she hated it and she wished her father did, as well. She knew she was being selfish. Why couldn’t she be more like her cousin Robin, who not only wholeheartedly supported Senator James Marshall McCord’s political rise, but worked as his aide? Or even her friend Natalie, who at least took an interest.
But as Levi looked down the table at her father, it startled her to think that this larger-than-life handsome man with the deep blue eyes and an abundance of Texas charm could be the next president of the United States. And according to the polls, he had a good chance once he threw his hat into the ring. If he threw his hat into the ring.
“I was about to make a toast,” James Marshall said, his voice soft, his gaze warm as it moved around the table from Mary, who had always been more like family than their cook, to his top advisor Whitt Emory, to his niece and aide Robin, to Levi’s closest friend, Natalie.
He raised his wineglass. “You have all made this day very special by being here on the Altamira. I am very thankful to have you in my life.” His gaze stopped on Levi. “To Texas and all of you. Happy Thanksgiving!”
Levi lifted her glass without taking her eyes away from her father’s face. She took a sip of her wine, not even tasting it. She replayed the conversation she’d overheard between Sheriff Clint Richards and her father again, trying to convince herself that she’d just imagined he’d lied to the sheriff earlier.
“I got your message,” Clint had said to the senator. Both men had had their backs to her, neither aware of her presence just inside the den doorway. “I came right out.”
“Thanks, Clint, I—I’m sorry I bothered you, especially on Thanksgiving.”
“You made it sound urgent,” the sheriff said.
“One of the hands thought he’d found a place where some fence had been cut,” her father said. “But it doesn’t look like any cattle are missing or any real damage done.”
“You’re sure that’s all it was?” Clint sounded surprised.
Her father nodded. “I feel foolish for calling you. Especially today.”
“No problem. I’ll keep a lookout.”
That was when her father had turned to see her standing in the doorway. It was more than his startled expression. More than the fact that this was the first time Levi had heard about a cut fence. More than the mutual knowledge that the senator hadn’t been involved in running the ranch since he’d gotten into politics, years before. They both knew the ranch foreman, Freddie Caulder, wouldn’t have gone to him with the problem; he would have come to her.
Her father was lying. There was no cut fence. She could see it in his expression. Feel it in her heart. Nor would her father call Clint out on Thanksgiving over a cut fence.
James Marshall dropped his gaze from her. “Can you stay for Thanksgiving dinner?” he had asked Clint.
Levi had stepped away, shocked. She knew her father wouldn’t lie to Clint unless he had a good reason. So why had he really called the sheriff?
Clint politely declined dinner, saying he already had plans. She watched the sheriff leave, intending to have a word alone with her father.
But then Whitt had arrived, followed close behind by Robin and Natalie. A few minutes later, dinner was served.
“I was just telling Robin that the three of us should go on a vacation,” her father said now.
A vacation? Now? She glanced over at her cousin. Robin looked as surprised as Levi.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea, Senator.” Whitt spoke up, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to him.
Had her father changed his mind about running for president? Levi felt a surge of hope, then stopped herself. When James Marshall set his mind to something, nothing could deter him. He loved politics and believed he could make a difference. She knew he’d make a fine president. But she did wonder why he hadn’t declared his candidacy yet. What was holding him back? Was he having second thoughts? Did she dare hope?
“You are still planning to announce your candidacy for president?” she asked, her heart in her throat.
“Of course he’s going to run,” Robin said, sounding so proud of him that Levi felt herself flush with guilt.
“I just thought we could get away for a few days before...before all the craziness really begins,” her father said.
He was going to run, she thought. That was why he suggested a vacation now, before the holidays, before he declared, because who knew when they’d have time together after that.
“This just doesn’t seem like the time for you to leave, Jim,” Whitt said.
“Whitt’s right, Uncle Jim,” Robin echoed. “There is so much to be done. But it was a nice idea. Remember when the three of us went to Big Bend National Park?” That was right after Robin had come to live with them, not long after her father had been killed.
Levi felt her father’s gaze on her and looked up to meet it. Did his reason for lying to Sheriff Richards have anything to do with this sudden vacation for the three of them?
“You’re right, of course, Whitt. You too, Robin.” Her father looked disappointed. Or was it worried?
She stared at him, her mouth dry and her eyes burning. What was going on? Something. And damned if she wasn’t going to find out. Right after dinner was over, Thanksgiving or not.
Mary served pumpkin pie with whipped cream, offering her two cents worth as she joined them again at the table.
The short, plump redheaded cook had been with the McCord family since before Levi was born. Catherine Olivia McCord had died when Levi was three. James’ Marshall had never remarried. Mary had been like a mother to Levi, and later to Robin.
“You have to announce your candidacy before the New Year,” Mary said with authority. “Give the people of this country something to look forward to in the new millennium.”
“If the world doesn’t come to an end,” Whitt offered with a laugh.
The conversation around the table went quickly back to politics and when the senator should declare. Levi pushed pie around on her plate, feeling a distance that frightened her.
“Daddy, I need to talk to you,” she said the moment the meal was finally over.
“Sure, sweetheart.” The phone rang. He frowned. “Oh, Levi, I forgot, Whitt and Robin and I are expecting a conference call,” he apologized. “Can it wait until later?”
Levi started to say “No.” Something inside her feared it couldn’t wait, but she told herself she was being silly.
“Sure. I’m going to give Natalie a ride home,” she said, touching her father’s broad shoulder, feeling a strength that reassured her. “I won’t be long.”
He smiled and covered her small hand with his large one as he gazed down at her. His eyes suddenly shimmered and, quite without warning, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. “Trust me, Levi, everything’s going to be all right,” he whispered so softly she was afraid she hadn’t heard him right. “I love you. Remember that always.”
She clung to him, more afraid than ever. “Daddy—”
He pulled back. Whitt called from down the hall to say they were waiting for him. “I have to go.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Drive carefully. No, drive skillfully,” he said over his shoulder as he strode down the hall.
Levi watched him go. Although James Marshall wore a prosthesis in place of the leg he’d lost in Vietnam, he seldom let it show in his gait. Only when he was tired or upset did he limp. He was limping now, she noted.
He stopped at the doorway to his den and turned to look back at her. “Great to see you again, Natalie. Sorry to hear your car broke down, though.”
Levi watched him disappear into the room and close the door behind him as she fought the ridiculous feeling that she might never see him again.
“Are you all right?” Natalie asked beside her. “You’ve been acting weird today.”
“I’m worried about Daddy,” Levi said, thinking that when she got back to the ranch, she’d check with the foreman about a cut fence before she spoke with her father. She desperately wanted to be wrong. Or at least, if not wrong, get some answers that would make her feel a little less frightened.
“Don’t worry, he’ll make a great president,” Natalie said.
“Yeah?” So why did she feel that might not happen? Was it a premonition? Or just wishful thinking? “What if I don’t want to be a president’s daughter?”
Natalie slipped her arm around her friend. “Just think of the men who’ll want to date you.”
They both laughed. It felt good. “You want to call a tow truck for your car before we leave?”
“On Thanksgiving? No way. I’ll get it towed tomorrow. Come on, I’ve been dying all day to tell you about this guy I met at work.”
They crossed the wide veranda, the afternoon mild and scented with the fragrances of fall in the Texas Hill Country.
* * *
THE MOMENT LEVI PULLED OUT of the ranch road and headed down the two-lane county road that led into San Antonio, she picked up two vehicles tailing behind her instead of the usual one. She watched for a moment in her rearview mirror. Had her father increased her private security?
Levi sped up, then slowed. Both cars stayed the same distance behind her. The increased security could just be a precaution as the time neared for the senator to announce his candidacy for president. Or it could validate all her fears.
“What is it?” Natalie asked, turning to look back.
“Just more big, strong men paid to protect me,” Levi said. “Can’t wait until I have Secret Service following me everywhere.”
“Oh, you’ll love all that attention.”
“Sure, wait until we double-date.” Her father had hired the full-time security guards for her over a year ago, right after he received a death threat at the ranch. While it had turned out to be nothing, he’d kept the security guards on as a precaution. “You hang around me and we’ll both be old maids.”
“Remember that one time?” Natalie said, laughing. “That really cute bodyguard your father hired?”
Levi only half listened as she checked her rearview mirror again to see that both vehicles were still behind her. She had to admit that normally she resented the intrusion in her life, but today the security guards reassured her. They made her feel everything really might be all right, because she knew others like them were guarding the ranch right now. Guarding her father.
“Can you believe my new car broke down?” Natalie bemoaned as they passed the Mustang convertible parked on the edge of the road. “It’s a good thing Robin came along when she did.”
“Your car just quit?”
Natalie shrugged. “I told you we should have taken auto mechanics in college.”
“Or at least date someone who knows how to fix cars,” Levi suggested. “So tell me about this guy you met.”
They talked and laughed on the way to Natalie’s house, the cool night air blowing in the windows. It wasn’t until later, long after Levi was on the county road headed back home, the day dying around her and an approaching thunderstorm darkening the sky, that she happened to glance into her rearview mirror.
Her foot came off the gas. She stared into the mirror, then turned to look out the back window.
There were no car lights behind her. No cars. Nothing but empty road. She was alone. Completely alone.
Panic curled tight fingers around Levi’s throat as she stared back at the growing darkness. She swallowed, telling herself there was no cause for concern. But the lie wouldn’t go down. She’d lost her security guards. Wasn’t that what she’d often wished for? Freedom? Anonymity? What she considered an ordinary life?
She stared at the empty gravel road behind her. Suddenly she had her freedom, but she knew instinctively, this was not what she wanted. Not today.
For a moment, she thought about turning around and going back to look for them. But the thunderstorm was right behind her, moving in fast.
She sped up, watching the road ahead as she picked up the car phone and hurriedly dialed the ranch. Her hand shook as she held the phone against her ear and checked the rearview mirror. Nothing but the storm, the empty back road and the growing darkness.
She’d known for years that there were people who might use her to get to her father, but until tonight she hadn’t realized just what that meant, the danger not only to herself but ultimately to her father. She was Senator James Marshall McCord’s daughter. His only offspring. The daughter of a possible future president. He’d done everything he could to protect her from publicity and keep her out of the public eye. But being a politician’s daughter had always come with a price, none higher than at this moment.
As she waited for the phone to ring, she tried to think of a half-dozen good reasons why the security men weren’t behind her. She couldn’t come up with even one. They’d been told never to leave her. Never. Under any circumstances. They wouldn’t disobey Senator James Marshall McCord. They’d all been handpicked by him personally. So where were they?
It took Levi a moment to realize the phone wasn’t ringing. She hurriedly dialed again, thinking she’d missed a number, but halfway through she heard the silence and knew the phone was dead. She shook it, then checked the battery. For a long moment, she stared, uncomprehending, into the empty hole where the battery should have been. Had it fallen out? How could that have happened?
Her fear escalating, she threw down the phone and locked all the car’s doors. Ahead, the solitary beams of her headlights cut through the dark late Texas afternoon, making her feel all the more vulnerable.
She pushed down on the gas pedal, gathering speed, gathering courage. She was safe. There was a logical explanation for this. A logical explanation for everything that had happened today. But she knew better. She was alone for the first time since her father’s death threat more than a year ago. All alone on an isolated back road, miles from the ranch, miles from town.
Fear mixed with anger. She didn’t want this. Any of it. Her father had put his life in danger and hers, as well. Tears of anger blurred her vision.
The car fishtailed around a corner and she slowed, but not much. She knew she was driving too fast. But she felt an urgency to get to the ranch as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the road ahead was even more narrow and full of curves as it wound through the hills, and the storm was gaining on her.
She careened around another corner and was forced to slow even more for the next one. Ahead she could see Natalie’s new car in the barrow ditch where she’d left it earlier.
If the Mustang hadn’t broken down, Levi would be at the ranch now. The thought raced past, making her heart race with it. Surely Natalie’s car trouble wasn’t part of some plot to—To what? To get her out on this road today?
She was telling herself she was just being overly suspicious when she looked in her rearview mirror again. Instead of the blank darkness, light shone a few miles behind her. One of her security guards?
Suddenly she could think of several scenarios to explain their temporary absence. Maybe one had broken down, like Natalie’s car. Just an odd coincidence. Nothing to panic over.
Or maybe there’d been an accident involving one or both of the cars. It didn’t matter. She was convinced that at least one of them was with her again. She let out a sigh of relief as she waited for the car to catch her.
But as the vehicle neared, she saw that it wasn’t a set of headlights but a solitary light speeding toward her. And the vehicle didn’t slow, nor did it drop in behind her. It kept coming, moving faster than she thought necessary or prudent.
Ahead she could see a sharp curve in the road. Behind her, the single light grew larger and larger until it filled her car, blinding her.
At the curve, she belatedly realized she was going too fast. She hit the brakes and the car began to slide around the corner. Behind her, the single headlight stayed on her. But as she came out of the curve, it moved up fast on her left and roared past.
That was when she saw that it wasn’t a car at all but a motorcycle. A dark, hooded figure hunched over the bike as it disappeared over the next rise in a cloud of dust and dusky darkness.
Shaken, Levi slowed the car and relaxed her hands on the wheel, keenly aware of the trembling in her fingers, in her legs. She tried to calm herself. She felt idiotic. She’d actually thought the biker had planned to force her off the road. Instead, the fool was probably just trying to outrun the storm.
This wasn’t like her. She didn’t panic easily, didn’t let things spook her. But she was spooked.
Behind her, the road was again empty but darker as the storm swept in. Ahead, the single headlight beam of the motorcycle shone in the distance then disappeared around a bend in the road.
It comforted her a little just knowing she wasn’t alone on this back road. The ranch wasn’t far now. Another five miles to the turnoff. Then she’d be home. Safe.
Rain began to fall, huge, sopping drops that pelted the windshield like pebbles. Lightning lit the sky for an instant, then thunderclouds obliterated everything like some ominous eclipse.
She turned on the wipers, dropped down a hill and around a sharp curve. Her headlights picked up the stone abutments of the bridge over the creek and something else. Something in the middle of the road at the mouth of the narrow bridge. Something large and bright. The rain-streaked shine of polished chrome turned into a motorcycle. The motorcycle lay on its side in the middle of the road, the rider sprawled next to it, blocking the road.
Levi laid into her brakes, the car skidding through the downpour toward the fallen bike and rider.
The fool, she thought frantically. He’d been going way too fast for the conditions and the storm had still caught him.
She stopped the car just feet from the rider. Her headlights pierced the falling rain to illuminate skid marks in the gravel and mud, the wrecked bike, the motionless rider.
Levi didn’t remember rolling down her window as she brought the car to a standstill. But now rain swept in, accompanied by a low, mournful moan.
In the headlights, she saw the rider lift one arm, then let it drop again. As the rider tried to get up, the hood fell back, exposing a head of long red hair and a distinctive female profile. Another moan shattered the stillness.
Levi hesitated, but only for an instant. She realized that the woman could lie there for hours and no one else might come along on this road tonight, especially with it being Thanksgiving.
After opening the car door, Levi got out, the rain drenching her to the skin through the thin cotton of her holiday dress as she started toward the downed biker.
A boot heel crunched on the gravel behind her. Levi started to turn. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the outline of a large dark figure, but before she could react, strong arms enveloped her, lifting her off her feet. A massive hand muffled her screams as she was dragged backward through the rain.
In the glare of the headlights, she watched the redhead get effortlessly to her feet and turn to look at her. For a fleeting instant, Levi thought she saw surprise in the woman’s expression. Then she felt something prick her skin. And everything went black.
Chapter Two (#ulink_7b25a198-b6aa-5ce7-82a7-ef0c6eb120f7)
Levi swam in a sea of warm darkness, caught in its seductive hold. She didn’t know how long she’d been under as she began to swim toward the surface, sensing the light above her growing brighter.
If only she could open her eyelids, but the effort was too much. Her limbs felt leaden and her mind groggy and jumbled with strange, terrifying images that danced in and out and seemed so real. She tried to grasp one, but it scudded away, a wisp no more tangible than smoke.
Still shrouded in the ominous dreams, she finally managed to surface, opening her eyes a crack, afraid of what she’d find. She blinked, becoming aware of two things. She was in a small airplane—a private jet, by the plush interior and propellerless hum—and she was not alone.
* * *
FROM ACROSS THE AISLE, Seth Gantry watched her come out of the drug-induced sleep. The resemblance had been startling. He’d seen it the moment she stepped from her car into the glare of the headlights. Her hair, a tumble of dark burnished waves cascading around her shoulders. Her body, slim and long, softened by full curves.
It had stopped him like a shotgun blast to his chest. Shanna. He’d stood, too stunned to move. For one breath-stealing moment, he’d believed it really was her standing there. Then she’d turned and he’d seen the woman’s face. And reality had come like a blow.
But even now in the light of the plane’s interior, he could see similarities between the two women. The hair. The wide-set eyes fringed with dark lashes. The high cheekbones.
But he could also see differences. The full, sensual mouth. The patrician features.
And yet when she opened her eyes, he thought they would be blue. As blue as Texas bluebonnets. And as filled with that silent pleading as the last time he’d looked into them.
The woman opened her eyes, blinked, then looked over at him. They weren’t blue at all, but a surprising pale violet. And all he saw in them was a drugged blankness.
She wasn’t Shanna. Not that he’d really believed she was. Except for that split second of insanity. So why did just looking at her hurt so much?
“Hello,” he said, his voice rough with emotions he thought he’d buried years ago. Obviously he hadn’t buried them deep enough. Disappointment sat on his chest, making each breath a hard-won victory.
She blinked again, looking at him with an empty vagueness that confirmed the heavy-duty muscle relaxant had done its job.
The question was: How much did she remember? She looked confused and probably incoherent. But would she experience the usual short-term memory loss?
He hoped so. It would be better if she didn’t remember what had happened to her, he thought, absently rubbing his hand where she’d bitten him. Seth liked fight in a woman. Just not this woman. And not now.
As he watched her, he remembered the feel of her in his arms—her surprising physical strength, as well as her strength of will. He waited expectantly, still seeing Shanna in her and wishing he didn’t.
She offered a drunken lopsided smile. There was no sign of nausea, he thought, pleased with his choice of drugs. Nor any fear in her expression. Yet. He knew it would take a few minutes before she’d be coherent and by then they’d have landed and she wouldn’t be his problem anymore. This was one job he’d be glad to have over.
She frowned and looked around, her gaze questioning. He wondered if every emotion this woman felt showed as clearly on her face, or if it was just her drugged, uninhibited state. Again he felt that tug of interest and found himself wondering about her. He caught himself. It didn’t matter. Actually, it was better not to know. It made things easier. Less personal. And that’s the way he liked them.
“You’re in a plane,” he said in response to the look. “We’ll be landing soon.”
The brows unfurrowed. She blinked and seemed to study the plane as if she thought she should recognize it. Why did he get the feeling she’d been in a private jet before? For the moment, she seemed satisfied with his answer and he was glad of that.
When she looked at him again, the violet eyes registered flashes of random emotions from confusion to curiosity. But it was the intelligence he saw there that worried him. Intelligence and strength of will? Seth hoped he wouldn’t regret that he hadn’t handcuffed her to the seat.
* * *
SHE WAS FLYING? It didn’t surprise her. She felt airborne and wasn’t sure she even needed the aircraft. Her thoughts zipped in and out like fighter planes, so fast she couldn’t catch even one for more than an instant. Her body floated as if weightless, although it seemed to be slumped in the plush seat. Her brain was unable to get her limbs to respond.
She smiled to herself, relishing this alien notnecessarily-unpleasant feeling. If she’d been able to reason, she’d have been horrified at this inability to think or move, let alone the idea of waking in a jet with a strange man. She didn’t even like to have more than a glass of wine because of her need to be in control at all times.
But that Levi was gone. This Levi couldn’t care less. She soared. Free. And it felt...delicious.
While she had no fear of flying, she did wonder how this cowboy had ended up on her magic carpet ride. As she looked over at him, she also wondered who he was and how she felt about him. She had no idea how she should feel about him, since her mind was still senseless and her body wonderfully insensible, but she felt something. In fact, her awareness of him seemed magnified, as if just one touch, even one whiff, would tell her everything she needed to know.
She closed her eyes and sniffed. Mmm. Very male. Unique as fingerprints and just as telling, his masculine scent seemed to fill her with what she knew instinctively were small truths about him. Strong. She smiled as another truth invaded her senses. Sexy. Very sexy. She opened her eyes, drunk with the essence of him, and grinned. At least she thought she grinned.
He gave her a small smile. She thought she felt her grin deepen into a smile, but who knew. She liked to think at least her lips were working.
“Would you care for some juice?” he asked.
Nice voice. Soft, considerate and something else that dodged her grasp. Apprehensive? That didn’t make any sense. What would he have to be apprehensive about?
She passed on the juice with a laborious shake of her head, feeling too far beyond forming the words “No, thank you.”
He didn’t seem to mind. Part of her watched him open an orange juice and take a drink.
His hands drew her attention. Large hands. She blinked, still staring at his long, sensuous fingers, as a jolt of fear shot through her. Odd, she thought, dragging her gaze back to his face. Where had that come from?
Nothing about the man looked dangerous. Certainly not his face. It was a pleasing sculpture of strong angles and planes, broken by the midnight black of his thick cowboy mustache that softened the hardness of bone and muscle to make him downright handsome. The mustache filled his upper lip and curled down past the corner of each side of his wide, well-defined mouth. His hair, the same shiny black, was thick and long enough to brush his collar.
Dressed as he was, he could have passed for one of the ranchers who frequented the Cattleman’s Club in San Antonio. He wore jeans, a blue-checked western shirt, a leather vest, a tooled leather belt with an elk-horn buckle and western boots. A Stetson sat atop a sheepskin coat on the empty seat to his left.
He rested one long, muscular leg on the knee of the other and appeared as complacent as a tomcat sunning himself.
She decided there was nothing about this cowboy that seemed cause for concern. And yet...she couldn’t remember what he was doing here any more than she could remember what she was doing here.
What was wrong with her anyway? She still felt a little...drunk. But she didn’t remember drinking even one full glass of wine at dinner. Strange. She didn’t remember much of anything since dinner, she thought as she glanced out the window.
It was dark outside. She frowned as she looked down at her watch. Seven-thirty. Thanksgiving Day. Startled, she realized her last clear memory was driving back from taking Natalie into San Antonio. That had been just a little after five o’clock. How could she have lost two and a half hours? And more importantly, what had happened between then and now?
In that time, she could have flown hundreds—even thousands—of miles from home. But why had she? Worse yet, she still hadn’t been able to place the man with her. Of course she had to know him. She’d never get into a plane with a total stranger. Maybe he was a friend of Natalie’s.
She looked over at him again, a sense of something at the edge of her memory, something... foreboding.
“You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m afraid I don’t know who you are or where we’re going,” she said politely, always a senator’s daughter. “I think I might have imbibed a bit too much.” That wouldn’t have been like her at all, but how else could she explain this?
“Don’t worry about that now,” he said, giving her a smile. “You should get changed before we land.” He handed her a large, bulging shopping bag. “I need to speak to the pilot. Since you’re still a little woozy, you might want to change right here.” With that, he got up and left.
She stared after him. Still a little woozy? But why was that? And why did she need to change?
Inside the bag, she found jeans, a plaid flannel shirt, a winter coat, boots, hat, wool socks and gloves. Wherever they were headed must be cold.
The moment she tried to get to her feet to change, she realized he was right: she was woozy. She sat down again and dressed as quickly as she could, considering her body still wasn’t reacting sensibly and she had no idea when the man would return. For some reason, the thought of adding more clothing made her somehow feel...safer. Safer from what?
She was trying to puzzle out these odd thoughts, when the plane began its descent. Out the window she could see no lights, no illuminated landmarks, just a nothingness as if she were being dropped into outer space. Waking in a private jet had come with a certain sense of security. Even the stranger hadn’t posed any threat. So how did she explain her growing anxiety? It was those dark, frightening images banked at the back of her brain. Were they memories? Or just bad dreams?
She wished he’d return so she could ask him some questions now that she felt a little better. Before they touched down, she’d like to know what she was doing here. And with him.
The wheels hit and bounced, then settled into the runway. She’d expected to see more than a narrow strip of runway lights. They had to be in the middle of nowhere.
She swallowed hard. What in the—She caught sight of a hangar as the plane taxied toward it. Behind the hangar, the lights of some town glowed. She let out the breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. She never thought the mere sight of lights would excite her.
Lights. A memory skidded past. Her heart took off again as she tried to corner a clear image. She almost had it, but then the plane stopped and the cowboy came out of the. cockpit.
She looked up at him, frustrated at his timing and, at the same time, glad to see him. She wanted desperately to extinguish the fear rising in her. This man had done nothing to make her fearful so why—
Her eyes locked with his. Eyes as black as the bottom of a well. She felt a start. There was something there. But something that justified her fears?
Outside the plane, someone pulled down the steps. She stood and started toward the door, not sure she could trust her mind, let alone her instincts. She’d wanted answers, but right now she just wanted off this plane and away from this cowboy and the images flickering in her head. Horrible images that if true—
He stepped in front of her, one large hand absently rubbing the palm of the other as he stared at her. His look sent a shudder through her.
She dropped her gaze, letting it fall to his large hands again and felt that flicker of a memory just beyond her grasp. He quit rubbing his palm and she saw something that stopped her heart dead. Teeth marks.
* * *
SETH HAD COME OUT of the cockpit already distracted because of the change in plans. He wouldn’t be dropping her at the airstrip after all, but taking her on by helicopter to the cabin. He swore under his breath; he hated changes. But mostly he just wanted this to be over.
Then he’d looked up and seen her.
Even if she hadn’t reminded him of Shanna, he’d have been thrown off guard by her. She looked damn good in jeans and a flannel shirt, round and full in all the right places, just as he’d known she would. She’d pulled her wild mane of hair back with a thin lavender ribbon from her dress and rolled up the sleeves on the shirt, exposing lightly freckled, sun-browned forearms.
But it was her face, with those incredible violet eyes, that made him unable to keep his gaze—and his thoughts—off her, no matter how hard he tried to keep his distance.
That’s why it took him a moment to realize that more than her clothes had changed.
Although trying hard not to show it, she’d remembered something. It showed in that incredible face, just like every emotion she’d felt so far.
He could only guess what she’d remembered. Not that it mattered now. But as he followed her gaze to the palm of his right hand, at least he knew what had triggered it.
Suddenly the door to the plane yawned open, a gaping dark hole beside him. A gust of cold air whooshed in, scented with pine and snow. God, it had been so long. The air brought with it a rush of remembrances, some so painful he felt as if he’d been blindsided.
Of course she took that opportunity to dart for the open doorway. He dropped a hand to her shoulder and gently pulled her back.
Her eyes widened as she lifted her face to him. “Who are you?” Her voice had an edge to it, as if warning him that he just might not know whom he was dealing with.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” he said. “It isn’t about me.”
“Then who is it about?” she asked. “My father?”
“I don’t know. Neither will you until we get to the cabin.”
“The cabin?” Her gaze refused to release him. It was as if she could see into his very soul. From the disgust on her face, she didn’t like what she saw there. “You’re not telling me anything.”
“It’s the best I can do.” Seth could see that wasn’t good enough. “It will all be clear when we get to the cabin.” Indecision played across her features. “I hope it won’t be necessary for me to drug you again,” he said softly.
The violet eyes widened for an instant, then narrowed in an emotion he recognized only too clearly. Fury.
“Good,” he said. “It appears we understand each other.”
* * *
OH, SHE UNDERSTOOD him all right. She’d been kidnapped! The frightening images in her head had been real! Memories scudded by like dark ominous clouds. The sound of him behind her, the overwhelming arms tightening around her, the hand covering her mouth. Screaming inside. Fighting. Fighting fruitlessly in helpless terror. Then the prick of a needle in her arm. Then nothing.
The bastard had drugged her! And now he’d threatened to do it again unless she cooperated. She glared at him. Tears stung her eyes but she would not cry. Tears would show weakness. She had to be strong, keep her head, use her head.
He pulled on his sheepskin coat, settled the Stetson on his head, his gaze steady, impassive and honed in on her like radar, but calm. Too calm. A shiver raced through her. A man who’d just kidnapped Texas Senator James Marshall McCord’s daughter should be worried as all get-out. Only a crazy man wouldn’t be. A crazy man. Or a man who had nothing to lose. She stared at him, afraid he just might be both.
“Let’s go,” he said as he picked up her clothes and stuffed them into a backpack from behind his seat. He nudged her forward, his hand firmly on her shoulder. “Watch your step.”
She didn’t miss the warning in his words. But she had no intention of doing anything that would give him an excuse to drug her again. Drugged, she didn’t stand a chance.
At the open doorway she stopped to look out. Snow. It shone, silver-white against the dark of night; it covered the ground as far as she could see. Whoever had opened the door didn’t seem to be around anymore, but nearby a helicopter waited.
The cowboy took hold of her the moment they stepped onto the frozen ground and drew her toward the chopper, his hand clamped firmly around her upper arm, his body pressed against her side.
She looked around, hoping there would be other people, someone she could call to for help. But the airstrip was empty and a large white expanse of open field ran for a good mile in the direction of the lights of the town. The only building, the hangar, sat dark and empty.
As she neared the whirring blades of the helicopter, wind spun the fallen snow, showering her in white ice-cold powder. The door opened and she was pushed up into a seat behind the pilot. Her kidnapper slid in next to her, his thigh against hers in the tight confines of the chopper.
Before she could buckle up, the helicopter lifted off, spinning away into the night. She pressed herself to the side window, pulling away from him. All she could see below was the shine of the snow broken occasionally by the dark fringe of the evergreens and the rise and fall of mountains as the chopper skimmed low over them.
Without a word, he reached across to snap her seat belt closed, forcing her to touch him again.
His closeness assaulted her senses. But this time, his male scent evoked memories of the kidnapping, the same way his muscled thigh against her leg reminded her how easily he could overpower her. The images danced before her. Pouring rain. Darkness. His arms clamped around her and the helplessness she’d felt as he’d dragged her away from her car, away from her life.
She looked back. The lights of the town were gone. Slowly she turned to stare ahead again into the darkness, her heartbeat a deafening roar in her ears. Tears blurred her eyes as sobs rose in her throat, choking her. She’d been kidnapped. The ramifications had finally hit home. All her bravado, all her control, all her toughness deserted her. She was afraid, ice-in-the-veins afraid.
* * *
THEY WEREN’T IN THE AIR but a few minutes when the helicopter dropped low, hovered for a moment, then set down in a cloud of whirling snow.
“Ladies first,” her cowboy kidnapper said as he leaned over to open her door.
She glanced at the pilot, but immediately changed her mind about making a desperate attempt to gain his help. The man had to be in on this.
She reached down, her fingers fumbling with the seat belt buckle. Suddenly the cowboy’s hands covered hers and she felt the buckle release. No more stalling. This was it.
She slid out of the seat and down, tom between the fears that he planned to leave her out here alone and that he was coming with her. He stepped down beside her, grasping her arm again as he leaned over her, shielding her from the pounding ice crystals as the chopper lifted off.
Within moments the whir of its blades died away, as did the lights of the helicopter. She waited for the darkness to close in. But it didn’t. An almost full moon rose above the low-hanging clouds, illuminating them and casting an eerie light across the snow. In that strange light, she could see that they’d landed in a small, isolated meadow. Past it, she could see nothing but snow, pine trees and mountains. No sign of life. Except for the man beside her.
Her pulse drummed in her ears as she looked over at him, and she felt her first real sense of hysteria since she’d been abducted. She hadn’t been alone with this man in the jet. Or the helicopter. But now, in this isolated part of some backwoods, she was completely alone with her kidnapper. It hit her with such force, her knees threatened to give way beneath her. What did he plan to do with her now?
Next to her, he stood, his head cocked as if listening. Then his attention swung to her. “Come on.” He took her hand and she trudged in his wake, wading through the fallen snow, trying to keep up and, at the same time, see where she was going. The country looked wild and unsettled. She hated to imagine where he might be taking her.
Then he topped a small rise and she saw the cabin. It loomed up out of the darkness, a small A-frame, as picturesque as a ski lodge in the Swiss Alps.
He’d told her she’d find out everything at the cabin, but no lights shone from the windows, no smoke curled up from the chimney, nor did any tracks mar the snow. It didn’t look as if anyone were home. Had he lied to her just to get her up here without a fight? She doubted that as she followed him across the meadow. He’d also threatened to drug her again. She didn’t doubt he would have gotten her here one way or the other.
By the time Levi reached the front steps of the cabin, she just hoped it was warm and dry inside. She didn’t think past that, afraid to.
She followed the cowboy up the untracked snowy steps to the front deck. He seemed to hesitate at the door. She followed his gaze to a ramp off one end of the deck. It too was covered in fresh, unblemished snow.
She watched him frown as he looked back at the steps, as if he’d also noticed the lack of tracks and was bothered by it. Then he tried the door. It opened in his hand. She saw him reach inside and an instant later, a light came on. He quickly stepped in and pulled her in behind him.
The cabin was old-fashioned, quaint, although definitely male. She wondered if it was his, and hoped it was because the place made her believe that the man who lived here wasn’t dangerous.
He left her standing in the middle of the room. Not that he ever really let her out of his sight as he opened the doors to each of the rooms, seeming to look for something. Or someone.
The clock on the wall said it was only eight forty-five and yet she felt exhausted. Had it been less than five hours since her father had made a toast at their Thanksgiving dinner on the ranch?
She realized her kidnapper had stopped searching the rooms. He stood looking at her, frowning, his gaze obviously troubled.
“What is it?” she asked, her fear rising.
He shook his head, turned and began rummaging through drawers, pulling out items, which he thrust into his backpack. That relaxed Texas cowboy on the jet was gone; this man was anxious and on alert. She watched in alarm as he threw things into the backpack, including a pistol, then ushered her out the front door again, closing it behind them.
He stopped on the deck, appearing to listen again, then without warning, swung her up into his arms and took one long-legged step to the corner of the small deck. He lowered her to the ground below.
What in the world?
“Don’t move,” he ordered in a whisper before he jumped down beside her. She watched him break off a limb from a nearby pine tree, urging her to walk across the open space beyond the A-frame toward the darkness. Behind them, he began to brush the fresh snow over their tracks.
Levi stared ahead into the wall of dark pines, cold and sick inside. Where was he taking her now?
Once in the dense trees, he took the lead again, drawing her deeper into their seclusion as the land rose sharply. She climbed until she thought her lungs would burst from the high altitude and cold.
By the time another structure appeared, the cold and the climb had zapped her energy. She was tired and ready to quit walking. He didn’t even seem to be breathing hard, although he’d been the one bucking the deep, soft snow, making somewhat of a trail for her.
The dark edge of a log structure materialized out of the night and the pines. Slowly it took shape. Rustic. Small. Isolated. Barely a shack. More like a four-sided lean-to. Nothing like the A-frame they’d left behind.
She didn’t realize she’d stopped walking until she felt the tug on her arm.
“Hey,” he said, and stepped so close to her that he forced out the night air. She stared down at his gloved hand on hers. “It’s not the Hilton, but it’ll be warmer and drier than out here.”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her throat felt swollen with the tears she’d held at bay. All she could think about was what he planned to do to her in there. It was the kind of place that might already have bodies buried under the worn floorboards—if it had a floor at all.
Her kidnapper lifted her chin until she was looking directly up under the brim of the Stetson and straight into his shadowed face. She couldn’t see his eyes but she could feel his heated gaze.
“Look, I know you’re cold and tired,” he said, as if she were simply rebelling against the accommodations. He must have felt her trembling. “You can warm up here and rest.”
It was the most he’d said to her in hours. But it was the tone that made her want to cry. Why was he being so nice now?
From inside the backpack, he took out a large flashlight, but he didn’t turn it on.
Levi glanced in the direction they’d come. She could see the lights the cowboy had left on in the cabin below them. They cast a gentle glow across the snow, making the winter scene warm and inviting. Why had he made her walk all the way up this mountainside?
He opened the shack door, seemed to listen for a moment, then motioned for her to follow. It wasn’t until they were inside that he turned on the flashlight.
Her heart sank as she saw that the one room was pretty much as she’d feared it would be: empty, except for years of dust, an old table, a couple of mismatched chairs and a cot.
His look brought the fear back in a heartbeat. “You can lie down over there,” he said, motioning to the cot. He reached into the backpack for a wool blanket and tossed it to her.
She swallowed hard. “What do you want with me?” Her voice broke and she hated the vulnerability she heard in it.
He stepped to her, letting the beam of the flashlight bore into the dusty worn wood at their feet as he gazed down at her. When he spoke his voice was soft, almost compassionate, but behind the words was an urgency, a warning. “I just want you to sit quietly until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”
She nodded and stepped past him to the cot, her heart aching for her family, for home. How long would she have to stay in this cabin with this man? Or would he ever let her leave here?
The flashlight went out, plunging them into a chilly, thick darkness. She waited for her eyes to adjust, telling herself this might be her chance. Maybe, if she could use one of the cot legs as a weapon...
She heard him prying boards from the window. A little of the snowy night spilled in. She could see him now, sitting in the chair he’d pulled up in front of the glassless opening. She reached down, feeling around with her hand. If she could get one of the legs free—
“Don’t,” he said.
Her gaze shot up. He wasn’t facing her, but intent on looking through the window opening with what appeared to be some kind of binoculars. Nightvision goggles?
“Don’t be foolish,” he continued conversationally, still not looking in her direction. “You wouldn’t stand a chance against me.” His voice was low and soft and unthreatening, but the words hit her like stones. “Before you can get up and cross the room, I’ll stop you. Because I won’t have a lot of time to deal with you, it might be painful. So I suggest you just do as I ask. Hopefully, we won’t be here long.”
She straightened slowly, holding her breath, afraid to make a sound or move too quickly. Who was this man and what did he want with her? Levi stared at him, sure he was watching the A-frame where the helicopter had dropped them off. Waiting. For what? A ransom drop?
She heard him shift in the chair. She prayed that money was all he wanted. Her father would pay the ransom, even a very large one. Then she would go home.
Otherwise...she could only bide her time. Wait for him to make a mistake. Even men like him had to make mistakes. And she’d be ready when he did.
* * *
THROUGH THE GLASSES, Seth watched the A-frame and the snowy landscape around it. He could see the twin tracks where the helicopter had set down in the snow and the two pairs of boot prints that led up to the front steps of the cabin.
He waited and watched, trying to nail down exactly what was bothering him. The change of plans. He was supposed to have met Wally at the airstrip. He was supposed to have handed over the woman. Job done.
But when he’d gone up to see the pilot, he’d been informed that a helicopter would be waiting to take them to the cabin. He’d told himself he was just being overly suspicious. Or maybe his apprehension just had to do with the woman. That she’d reminded him of Shanna filled him with a sense of dread he couldn’t shake off. Returning to Montana after all these years, facing all the memories and regrets, well, that was also taking its toll.
He squeezed his eyes for a moment to chase away the thoughts. Thoughts of Shanna. Thoughts of this woman. Both were all tangled into a knot of heartache.
Damn. He’d wanted to be back in Texas, this woman no longer his concern. Instead he was in a cold miner’s shack on a snowy mountainside fighting a terrible sense of déjà vu, as if history were about to repeat itself and, like last time, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
Had the woman thrown off his instincts so much that he was jumping at shadows? Seth shook his head in disgust. He was going to look like a damn fool when he had to tromp down this mountain to deliver the woman.
Behind him, she was no longer moving around. He could hear her breathing softly. Had she finally given up and fallen asleep? Or was she sitting, waiting anxiously, wondering what to expect now? Welcome to the club.
He tried to relax. Everything had gone fine—at least at his end. Better than fine. He had her and all he had to do was hand her over to Wally. So where was Wally? Why had he changed the plan? It was so unlike him.
Seth scanned the landscape around the A-frame, seeing nothing but trees and snow. Fool. He should be in that cabin right now with a fire roaring, a mug of hot coffee and—
The A-frame exploded right before his eyes. The flash blinded him as the cabin turned into a fireball. A few seconds later, the blast echoed in his ears. He stared, dumbfounded, struck by that sense of déjà vu. And doom.
First, the change of plans. Now, this. He stared at the burning cabin, then turned to the woman on the cot, and a jolt of something stronger and much more potent than adrenaline raced through him. Cold, hard fear. Who the hell was this woman?
Chapter Three (#ulink_7b25a198-b6aa-5ce7-82a7-ef0c6eb120f7)
“Who are you?”
Levi awoke with a start, amazed she’d actually fallen asleep. Probably the side effects of that drug he’d given her earlier. The sound of an explosion rang in her ears, but only the smell of smoke made her believe she hadn’t dreamed it.
Before she could move, she looked up to find the cowboy standing over her, yelling down at her, his words making no sense. What had blown up?
“Who are you?” he asked again.
She sat up, pulled the scratchy wool blanket to her and gazed up at him, afraid. “What?” was all she got out before he jerked her to her feet.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded as he ripped off the blanket and threw it onto the cot.
“You know who I am,” she cried, staring at him as if he were a madman as well as a kidnapper.
“Tell me your name,” he demanded from between clenched teeth.
“Levi.”
He frowned. “Levi? Levi who?”
She couldn’t understand what it was he wanted from her or why he was so upset. “McCord. Levi McCord.”
He released her as if she were a live wire. “McCord? Levi McCord? Not—” He stared at her. “Tell me you’re not related to Senator McCord.”
Was this some sort of trick? “He’s my father.”
He swore loudly, raked a hand through his hair, then looked at her again as if he’d never seen her before. “You’re James Marshall McCord’s daughter.”
“Olivia McCord,” she said almost indignantly. “Levi’s a nickname.” She frowned as a thought buzzed past like a bullet. “But you had to know that when you kidnapped me. Why else ” She stopped, even more confused. -
He let out a harsh laugh and looked up at the ceiling, still shaking his head. He was a madman. Or he really hadn’t known who she was. Or both. He swung his gaze back to her and cursed, his eyes dark and disturbed.
She came fully awake with an anger of her own. “Who are you?” she demanded. Her head had cleared some from the short, fitful, exhausted sleep and the rude awakening and the drug he’d given her earlier. “You kidnapped me and you didn’t even know who I was?” What kind of sense did that make? She was even more angry than she had been. The anger felt so much better than the fear. “Talk to me, damn you.”
“Not now,” he growled as he thrust the flashlight into the backpack and pulled the drawstring closed, his movements hurried, anxious. “We have to get out of here.”
He stepped to the door, opened it and stood silhouetted against the snowfall, waiting impatiently for her.
She moved as if sleepwalking to the window opening in the wall and looked out. Below her in the clearing, what was left of the A-frame burned bright in the night. Her heart thudded at the ramifications. They could have been in that cabin!
“Come on,” he ordered when she didn’t move toward him. “Trust me, now isn’t the time to give me trouble.”
She turned to look at him, feeling the effects of adrenaline and exhaustion, anger and fear. She didn’t move, just stared at him, determined not to take another step until she had an explanation. “Tell me. Now.”
He shook his head in obvious frustration. “Let me put it to you simply. Somebody firebombed the cabin because they thought we were inside it. I don’t know how close they are or if they’ve already found our tracks and are headed up this mountain right now, but I think they’re probably not going to give up until they kill us. How’s that?”
She swallowed hard. “Why would someone want to kill us?”
“You tell me.”
He was blaming her for this?
“But I’m not staying here to find out,” he said before she could respond. “Now get your butt out that door or I’ll drag you. Believe me, you won’t slow me down that much. At least not for long.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. The moment she moved toward him, he grabbed her and propelled her through the open doorway. It was still dark outside, except for the fiery glow where the A-frame had been.
The air felt colder. Or maybe it was just the cold inside her as he pulled her through the pines, his grip strong and firm and unrelenting. She had to run to keep up with his long stride. They dropped down the other side of the mountain, away from the smell of charred wood.
She felt dazed. Who had blown up the A-frame? Why had the man now dragging her off this mountain kidnapped her without even knowing who she was? It made no sense. Nothing made any sense. But if he meant her real harm, wouldn’t he have just killed her and left her behind at the shack? Or...was she worth more to him alive?
The air suddenly turned white and wet with fog. He kept moving. The mist wove through the snowladen pines, growing denser and denser until she couldn’t see but a few feet in front of her. He slowed a little, not much.
Then she heard it. The sound of water lapping softly. Moments later, they stumbled on the bank of what appeared to be a wide creek. On the snowy edge, he finally stopped and she leaned over, her hands on her knees, to catch her breath.
Without warning, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, reminding her again how strong he was as he waded into the icy water.
She started to protest, but he stopped her with a low warning growl. Common sense told her this was not the time.
He headed upstream into the fog, his hand resting on her rump as she bounced along on his shoulder. She thought she heard a helicopter. He must have, too, because he stopped for a moment to listen, then continued upstream.
Finally he put her down on the opposite bank and climbed out beside her. She watched him through a film of fog as he went to a spot along the bank and pulled branches back from a canoe.
The movement came out of the smudged darkness of the pines off to her right. She saw it from the corner of her eye, but didn’t get a sound out before the movement became a man. He seemed a part of the fog, a blur of white clothing and mask, until she saw a rifle in his gloved hands. She didn’t have time to think, let alone react. Unlike her kidnapper. He turned, sensing danger. Just as the attacker swung the rifle butt at her, the cowboy grabbed for the barrel and jerked, throwing the attacker off balance.
The blow did little more than send her sprawling into the snow. But by then the cowboy had sent the attacker flying. The man landed on his back hard, the rifle falling from his hands and sliding down the bank into the cold stream. As the cowboy leaped after him, she saw the attacker pull something from his boot. A knife blade glittered as the two struggled in the snow.
She froze as she watched them fight, her thoughts frantic. What should she do? Run! But run where? She got to her feet but couldn’t see more than a few feet in the dense fog and didn’t know the terrain, didn’t even know where she was. Think! The canoe. Take the canoe. She rushed over to it and was hurriedly trying to pull it out of its hiding place when she heard a splash behind her and swung around.
“Did he hurt you?” her kidnapper asked, sounding almost concerned for her. He picked up his Stetson from the snow and shoved it down on his head, then stumbled toward her, his breathing labored. He was covered in snow, and blood seeped from a wound on his temple.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded. He wiped at the wound. It didn’t look deep or life threatening.
She shook her head and looked past him. The attacker was gone. “Where is he?” she asked, her voice breaking.
The cowboy pointed across the creek. “He got away.”
She stared into the darkness of the pines. “What makes you so sure he won’t be back?”
“I’m not, but I would imagine he’ll go for help. He was wounded. Not bad. Just a cut on his arm, but enough that I don’t think he’ll be back—at least for a while. By then we’ll be gone.”
From behind a wall of tears, she saw him reach for her, but he didn’t seem to have enough fight left in him to stop her as she sidestepped him. He let his hand drop as she moved to the edge of the water where the two had been fighting. She dropped to her knees in the churned snow, wishing for some way to confirm the cowboy’s story—or her worst fears. Had the other man come to rescue her... or kill her?
“From here on out, you’re going to have to trust me,” her kidnapper said behind her, his voice rough. “Or at least do as I tell you.”
“How do I know you didn’t have the cabin booby-trapped so it would blow up when someone came after me?” Levi snapped. She was angry and afraid, but equally tired and cold. “Obviously you knew someone was going to come. Isn’t that why you dragged me up the mountain to that shack where you could watch for them? Isn’t that why you hid this canoe by the creek?”
“It isn’t a creek. It’s a river,” he said as he came up behind her. “And I didn’t hide the canoe. Its owner did, years ago.”
She stepped back away from him. The cowboy had just made his first mistake.
“Don’t come any closer,” she warned, aiming the pistol she’d found in the snow.
He stopped and raised his hands, palms out. “I take it you’ve fired one of those before?”
“Many times.”
He nodded as if he should have known, the way his day was going.
“I want some answers and I want them now,” Levi said.
“You definitely pick your moments,” he said with a tired sigh.
“Who was that?” she demanded.
The cowboy shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“Why was he trying to kill you?”
“I would assume he thought it would be easier to knock you unconscious, kill me first, then you,” he answered matter-of-factly. “But that’s just a guess.”
She groaned. “How do you know he didn’t intend to push me out of the way, to save me from you?”
“With the butt of his rifle?”
“Maybe that’s the best he could do at short notice,” she argued.
“Maybe.”
She waited for him to convince her she was wrong. He didn’t even try. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you?”
He pushed his Stetson back from his forehead. “Because there’s probably more of them out there and if you fire that pistol, the sound will only give them our location.” He said it softly, conversationally and with an arrogance that made her trigger finger itch. “Plus, you’re smart enough to think that I just might be the lesser of two evils.”
“You’re the one who kidnapped me. Why would I think you’re less dangerous?”
“Then shoot me.” He started toward her. “Because, otherwise, we’ve got to get out of here.”
“You come any closer and I‘ll—” She gripped the pistol in her hand, feeling the cold steel of the trigger just beneath her finger. He stepped up to her. “Don’t—”
With ease and speed, he snatched the gun from her hand and stuffed it into the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t ever pull a gun on me again unless you intend to use it.”
She stood trembling as he turned his back on her. He pushed the canoe into the water and held it steady before he settled his gaze on her again. “Get in.”
The order made her bristle. Around them the fog seemed to be getting colder, wetter and more dense by the minute. “I should have shot you when I had the chance,” she said, glaring at him.
“Probably,” he agreed. “But since you didn’t, get into the canoe.” He swore when she didn’t move. “My name’s Seth. And I didn’t kidnap you, not exactly. Now get in before you get us both killed.”
She glanced across the river, then moved to the canoe and got in without a word as he pushed them off.
The current caught the small craft, sucking it into the fog bank. She wrapped her arms around herself, huddling in the front of the boat. There were so many questions she wanted to ask Seth—if that was his real name—but she knew he wasn’t going to tell her anything until he was good and ready. And she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t right, that there weren’t others out there, just waiting to attack them. So she remained silent, something extremely hard for her to do under even ordinary circumstances. Only nothing was ordinary about this. Or the man she was with.
She felt him paddle them out into the fast water, as if he’d done it a hundred times. Maybe he had. She had the feeling this man could do anything. Who was he anyway? And what was she doing with him, as if she had a choice? She shivered, remembering the look he’d given her when he’d taken the gun from her hand. Instinctively she knew he was dangerous. So why had he saved her life? Not once, but twice. Or had he?
She stared into the fog, her brain and body numb. Part of her feared an attack from the banked whiteness. Another part feared she was in more danger from the man in the canoe than anyone who came out of the fog.
The river lapped at the sides of the boat; the fog rushed by. Where were they headed now? She felt caught up in something bigger than herself as the canoe swept down the river with nothing to gauge distance by other than the feel of the wind on her face and the whisper of the fog as it sailed past. Time seemed suspended. She watched Seth paddle and felt like the water, racing toward something. But what?
Then in the distance she heard the sound of a waterfall.
Chapter Four (#ulink_7b25a198-b6aa-5ce7-82a7-ef0c6eb120f7)
Senator James Marshall McCord’s daughter! Seth still couldn’t believe it. As he paddled down the river in the cloud-veiled moonlight and fog, he tried to convince himself that it was some kind of terrible mistake. A case of mistaken identity. A glitch in paperwork. He couldn’t have snatched the wrong woman. His instructions had been too specific.
Exactly. His instructions had been too specific. There was no mistake. He was supposed to abduct the senator’s daughter. The question was why?
Only one person could answer that: Wally.
In Seth’s business, jumping to conclusions was dangerous. So he fought hard not to as the canoe drifted through the fog, the water lapping softly at the side, the air cold and wet with the promise of more snow.
Because right now the conclusion was that he’d been set up. Not just for the kidnapping but for the woman’s murder. And that dishonor was to have been awarded posthumously.
The problem was, he couldn’t believe anyone would go to this kind of trouble to frame him, let alone kill him. He just wasn’t worth it.
But Olivia McCord was, he reminded himself.
And, somehow, he had to keep her safe until he could get her back to her family and straighten this out.
So far he’d been going on gut instinct. He’d known something was wrong at the airstrip, when Wally hadn’t met them and instead had them choppered in to the cabin. At Wally’s cabin, everything had just felt...wrong.
Once the cabin had blown to smithereens—well, his instincts told him that straightening this out wasn’t going to be easy.
Olivia McCord. He studied her dark huddled form at the other end of the canoe as he let the craft drift, the fog rushing around it, the banks blurring by, white with snow, the water deep and dark and cold. The name didn’t suit her. Olivia was too soft a name, too womanly, too feminine sounding. That woman, the one he’d glimpsed in the glare of the car headlights, reminded him too much of Shanna.
But “Levi” fit the spitfire who’d drawn down on him with the loaded pistol. He shook his head, the difference between Shanna and this woman never more clear.
He remembered the day he’d tried to get Shanna to learn to shoot so she could defend herself. She’d finally handed the pistol back to him, more afraid of the gun than anyone who might want to harm her.
Seth blinked. No, Levi was nothing like Shanna when she had a .44 Magnum in her hand. But there was that other side of her. The soft, sexy, definitely female woman in the lavender dress. The one that reminded him of Shanna. The one he had to avoid at all costs.
He swore under his breath. It didn’t matter who Levi reminded him of, what he called her or how he cared to think of her, she was still the Texas senator’s daughter. And Seth Gantry was in a world of hurt.
“Excuse me.”
He blinked at the sound of her voice and realized she was staring at him, the same way he’d been staring at her.
“Sounds like a waterfall,” she pointed out.
He nodded. The roar of rushing water grew louder as the canoe floated through the fog toward it.
“We aren’t going over it, right?” She sounded more annoyed than worried, as if going over a waterfall would be the last straw.
“Don’t worry,” he said, thinking they had a lot more to worry about than simply drowning. “We’ll be getting out pretty soon.”
“Where exactly are we?” She sounded weary, as if some of the fight had gone out of her. He only wished. He had enough to fight without adding her to the list.
“On the Boulder River. In Montana.” He figured he owed her that much.
“Montana?” She made it sound as though he’d taken her to the North Pole. But even Montana was a long way from home for a Texas girl.
“About twenty miles south of Big Timber.” The canoe rounded the bend in the river, the waterfall a thunder ahead of them. He could feel the icy spray of the falls in the air and see it freezing on the rocks along the high bank, frosty-white.
He reached out to grab an eddy with his paddle and the canoe swung into a large washed-out cave in the rocks.
Levi didn’t take any urging; she was out the moment the canoe touched solid ground again. Did she think she was safe now?
“You’re from here, aren’t you.”
It wasn’t a question. Actually, it sounded more like an accusation. And she had to yell it to be heard over the thundering water.
He climbed out beside her, then let the canoe go. He watched until it disappeared into the fog, into the roar of the waterfall. “Yeah, I grew up around here.”
She nodded, studying him with eyes that saw too much. “They’ll know we didn’t go over with the canoe,” she said. She was close enough she didn’t have to yell; too close for comfort. “Now what?”
“Now we steal a vehicle.”
She raised a brow. “Just like that.”
He hoped. Steal a vehicle. Get to a phone. Call Wally. That’s as far as he’d thought it out. But he didn’t want to have to explain his lack of a real plan to this woman, so with an urgency that had nothing to do with whoever might be after them, he led the way out of the rocks, motioning for her to keep quiet. He stayed in the shelter of the pines, sneaking along through the trees and rocks.
The fog thinned as they left the river bottom, but the low-hanging clouds made the air smell wet. It hadn’t started to snow yet, but Seth knew it would. Soon.
At one point, he thought he heard a helicopter again, but he never saw its lights.
The old farmhouse sat back against a wall of tan bluffs and large pines. The house itself was probably still used in the spring, when huge flocks of sheep were herded up into the Absaroka and Beartooth wilderness to graze for the summer. But right now it sat closed up and empty.
Off to its right, a large once-red barn loomed out of the clouds, a black wide hole in the front where the double doors hung open. In the pitch blackness, something glittered dully. A bumper.
The bumper belonged to an ancient faded green International Harvester pickup. From the look of the cow manure and yellowed grass stuck to the tire wells, the truck had been used maybe as recently as early fall.
He watched Levi eye the pickup skeptically and him even more. He tried not to let it hurt his feelings as he popped the hood, hoping the rancher hadn’t taken out the battery for the winter. While looking a little corroded, the battery sat snugly in its corner, held in place with wire. He touched an end of wire between the two terminals and got a spark. They were in business.
Feeling lucky, he slammed the hood and swung around to the passenger side of the pickup to let Levi in. The door groaned as he dragged it open and offered her a seat. She looked cold. He hoped the heater worked.
Going around to the driver’s side, he shrugged out of the backpack, tossed it onto the seat and reached around the steering column, hoping to find the keys in the ignition. His luck wasn’t that good.
He could feel her dubious look as he lay down on his back on the floorboard under the steering column, the door open and his legs hanging out. He was glad for once that he’d picked up a few useful talents in his wayward youth.
As the engine rumbled to life, he shot Levi a glance, hoping to see grudging admiration in her face. Or at least a little respect.
Instead she gave him a look that said If you’re so smart, then why are people trying to kill you? Or maybe he was just thinking that himself.
He slid out of the truck, grousing at what a hard woman she was to impress, but before he could turn to get back in, he felt a boot connect hard with his butt. The unexpected momentum sent him sprawling headfirst onto the barn floor.
Behind him he heard the driver’s side door slam, the motor rev and the clutch pop. As the old truck roared backward out of the barn, he leaped to his feet and ran after it. Blamed woman!
She was frantically searching for first gear when he reached her side of the pickup. Just as he grabbed for the door handle, she slammed down the lock with her elbow. Damn her! She found first gear, popped the clutch again, but her inexperience driving on snow gave him a few seconds. He flung himself over the hood to the passenger side and jumped on the running board as the less-than-great rubber on the tires spun for a moment, then caught. He tried the door, not surprised to find it locked as well.
Clinging to the moving vehicle by the side mirror, he tapped on the glass. Levi glanced over at him. He mouthed the word stop. But she turned back to her driving, getting the pickup rolling along at a pretty good clip as she headed for the main road.
He held onto the mirror, quickly assessing the situation as he saw in the pickup’s headlights the row of low-limbed pine trees coming up on his side of the narrow road. He slammed an elbow against the side window. The window shuddered but didn’t break. He heard a shriek from inside the truck but she made no attempt to slow down. Big surprise.
Just as he’d figured, she drove close enough to the pines lining the driveway that the branches whipped him and did their best to knock him off the running board. This woman was starting to get to him.
Just past the last pine tree, she threw on the brakes. The change in momentum swung him around the mirror and smacked his hip into the fender, but he managed to get his feet back on the running board before she got the truck going again. She was getting better at driving on snow.
Tired of fooling with her, he elbowed the side window once more. This time the glass shattered, showering into the cab, bringing a satisfying oath from inside.
Quickly he reached in and pulled the door handle up. The door swung open and he leaped in, slamming it behind him before she had a chance to do anything more than shift gears.
He didn’t look at her. “Stop the truck.”
Not surprisingly, she didn’t jump to his quiet command. In fact, she didn’t even respond.
“Stop the truck now or so help me, Levi—”
She hit the brakes, almost putting him through the windshield. She flung open her door and jumped out at a run. He slid across the seat, slipping the truck into neutral to keep it from dying as it rolled to a stop, and went after her. In two long strides, he caught her by the collar of her coat.
“Are you crazy?” he demanded.
“I’m the one who should be asking you that,” she snapped, anger flashing in her eyes. Her breath came out frosty-white in the night. “I didn’t kidnap you.”
He let out a sigh. “If you could just let me get us to a phone, I could prove to you that I didn’t kidnap you.”
She mugged a face at him. “Why should I believe anything you tell me? You haven’t told me anything.”
“Excuse me. I’ve been a little busy trying to keep us alive.” She didn’t seem in the least appreciative and he wondered what it would take. “I told you my name.”
“Seth? Seth what?”
“Gantry.”
She raised a brow. “If Seth Gantry is even your name.”
“It is,” he replied indignantly.
They stood glaring at each other, breathing hard, eyeing each other with distrust. He could see doubt in her expression; she didn’t believe they were still in danger. Maybe she didn’t want to believe she’d ever been in danger—other than from him.
He tried to think of something he could say to gain her trust but gave up. He had to face it: she wasn’t going to go along with him anymore. At least not willingly. And he was in no mood to fight her.
“I hate to have to do this,” he said. Pulling the handcuffs from his coat pocket with one hand, he let go of her collar and grasped her right wrist.
She tried to struggle out of his hold. “You wouldn’t,” she said, giving him a haughty look when all else had failed.
“You’d be surprised what I’d do right now,” he muttered. He snapped one of the loops closed on her wrist. “You’re lucky I don’t take you over my knee.” He hauled her around to the passenger side. “Get in the truck.” She had the good sense not to cross him again. The moment she climbed in, he fastened the other loop to the seat frame.
From behind the pickup seat, he dug out a threadbare farm jacket and a chunk of old cardboard. He stuffed it into the broken side window as best he could, closed the door and went around to the driver’s side and slid in, only to find her searching through his backpack with her free left hand.
“The pistol isn’t in there,” he said. He closed the door and snatched the backpack from her before she decided to use the flashlight on him.
Once on the main road, a blacktopped two-lane, he headed north toward Big Timber, glad the low clouds and the darkness provided protective cover from any aircraft. Then the snow began to fall, large white flakes drifting lazily down, and he knew they stood a good chance of not being seen from the air. That still left the possibility of a roadblock though.
But he didn’t think that was likely since he didn’t believe the people after them were FBI or any other law enforcement group. Yet.
He felt better. But then he always felt better on the move—even when he had no idea where he was headed or what waited around the next bend.
“So what now?” Levi asked. “I assume you have a plan.”
He stared at the road. He couldn’t believe she expected him to devise an infallible plan while he was saving their lives, escaping killers and stealing wheels. “No reason to have a plan until you need one.”
“You don’t have the foggiest idea what you’re doing, do you?” she asked incredulously.
He glanced over at her. “I’m flying by the seat of my pants here. I’m sorry if you have a problem with that, princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, but all the fight seemed to have gone out of her.
He felt a wave of guilt and searched around for something to say. When words failed him, he got the heater going, pleased to hear it hum and even more happy when a little warm air spit from it. Maybe a bit of heat would help her.
He happened to catch his reflection in the rearview mirror. No wonder she’d thought he was the crazy one. Between the dried blood on his temple and the dark stubble of a day’s growth of beard on his chin and the look in his eyes, he appeared crazed. Hell, he was crazed. He always felt that way when someone was trying to kill him.
He turned his attention to the highway. Ahead, the new snow melted the moment it touched the pavement; fog rose like lost spirits in the headlights. Inside the pickup, even with only a coat and cardboard stuffed in the broken window, it was starting to warm up and it felt good.
“Don’t you think you ought to at least tell me what I’m doing here?” Levi asked in a no-nonsense tone.
This was a woman used to giving orders. Too bad he wasn’t in the habit of taking them.
When he didn’t answer immediately, she snapped, “Look, you got me into this. You kidnapped me or whatever you’d like to call it, almost got me killed and you didn’t even know who I was. The very least you owe me is an explanation.”
Whew. Warm this woman up and she was instantly on the fight again. He shook his head, grinning to himself. He liked that she wasn’t down for the count. Through it all, she’d stayed pretty cool. He had to hand it to her, he didn’t think he would have been as calm in the same situation. Hell, he didn’t feel all that calm right now.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/b-j-daniels-3/stolen-moments/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
B.J. Daniels
She needed protection for herself–and her baby…With ebony hair and bottomless eyes, Seth Gantry was the kind of man Olivia "Levi" McCord's father warned her about–and the last man on earth she'd ever fall for. Especially after the sinewy cowboy kidnapped her.Seth claimed to be her bodyguard and that he needed to take her to a safe house. But when the Montana mountain cabin blows up, he becomes all that stands between Levi and an untimely death. Running for their lives and with no one to trust, Levi is at the mercy of the sexiest man she'd ever met. Suddenly she isn’t certain whether the real danger comes from the killer on her trail…or the virile cowboy who's vowed to keep her alive.
A daughter, a son, a secret…
With ebony hair and bottomless eyes, Seth Gantry was the kind of man Olivia “Levi” McCord’s father warned her about--and the last man on earth she’d ever fall for. Especially after the sinewy cowboy kidnapped her.
Seth claimed to be her bodyguard and that he needed to take her to a safe house. But when the Montana mountain cabin blows up, he becomes all that stands between Levi and an untimely death. Running for their lives and with no one to trust, Levi is at the mercy of the sexiest man she’d ever met. Suddenly she isn’t certain whether the real danger comes from the killer on her trail…or the virile cowboy who’s vowed to keep her alive.
Previously Published.
He’d give her the truth—whether she could handle it or not
“The least you could do is come up with a good story,” Levi snapped, eyes blazing, before he could speak.
Seth hit the brakes, but it wasn’t until the car stopped that he looked over at her. She had the handcuffed hand braced against the seat, and she looked at him like he were a madman.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he ground out. “I don’t have to come up with any story. I was hired to bring you here. Let’s not kid ourselves. Someone took care of your bodyguards, someone blew up the cabin. I may be going out on a limb here but I think we were supposed to be inside it.”
“What are you saying?” She swallowed hard.
“That someone knows too much about you and me.
Someone who wants us both dead.’
“That’s ridiculous. I might have been kidnapped for money, but kill me? Why?” When he shook his head, she went on. “Don’t you know anything?”
“I might not be the knight in shining armor you hoped for, princess, but I’m all you’ve got.”
“What if I preferred to save myself instead of—”
He cut her off. “You wouldn’t last twenty-four hours on your own.”
Her eyes narrowed and pierced his. “How do I know I’ll last twenty-four hours with you?”
Dear Reader (#ub1c44a59-ebea-5630-af47-a7e79a9cd077),
When actions of the past come home to haunt Senator James Marshall McCord, Texas rancher and recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor, he knows he must protect the people he loves most in the world—his family. But he’ll need some help from three very rugged, very determined men.
Mills & Boon Intrigue is proud to bring together three of your favorite authors in a new miniseries: THE McCORD FAMILY COUNTDOWN.
Starting in October get swept away by a mysterious bodyguard in #533 Stolen Moments by B.J. Daniels. Then meet the sexy town sheriff in #537 Memories at Midnight by Joanna Wayne. And finally, feel safe in the strong arms of a tough city cop in #541 Each Precious Hour by Gayle Wilson.
In a race against time, only love can save them. Don’t miss a minute!
Enjoy,
Denise O’Sullivan
Associate Senior Editor
Mills & Boon Books
300 East 42nd Street
New York, NY 10017
Stolen Moments
B.J. Daniels
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAST OF CHARACTERS (#ub1c44a59-ebea-5630-af47-a7e79a9cd077)
Seth Gantry—The cowboy thought he had problems. Then he kidnapped Olivia “Levi” McCord and discovered what real trouble was!
Olivia “Levi” McCord—She became the pawn in a game of life or death, but not for the reason she suspected.
Alex Wells—The convicted murderer was out on parole. But did he really want to go straight or get even?
Jerilyn Ryers—She was Seth’s partner in the security business, but was that all she wanted from the handsome cowboy?
Shanna Stanley—She was a heartbreaker who fell in love with the wrong man.
Delbert Bergstrom—He thought he could help his nephew start a new life. He was dead wrong.
Wally Stanley—He was the only person who knew the truth—but someone was determined he’d never tell.
Billy Bob Larson—He carried a grudge since Vietnam, but how far would he go to destroy McCord?
Senator James Marshall McCord—His passion was potitics—but not at the cost of his family.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ub1c44a59-ebea-5630-af47-a7e79a9cd077)
B.J. DANIELS lives in Livingston, Montana, one of the windiest places on earth. But just like her heroine in Stolen Moments, B.J. believes home is where the heart is, regardless of the weather. And both B.J. and her heroine’s heart reside in Montana with the men they love.
B.J. loves to hear from readers. Write to her at: P.O. Box 183, Bozeman, MT 59771.
This book is humbly dedicated to my friends
Chris and Use who opened their arms and their
home to me, fed me better than I deserve and always
have a cold Diet Coke waiting for me.
Thanks for always being there.
Table of Contents
Cover (#u450ccca3-3c32-5fb0-a4fa-82296c9dd198)Back Cover Text (#uebead76f-5fc7-5a4c-9323-46ca173fdc29) Dear Reader Title Page (#udadc336f-39d5-56cf-9827-295a8be30c80) CAST OF CHARACTERS ABOUT THE AUTHOR Dedication (#u8d510664-833a-5275-89ba-be363846033e) Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Extract (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_7b25a198-b6aa-5ce7-82a7-ef0c6eb120f7)
Thanksgiving Day
Thursday, November 25, 1999
“Olivia? Olivia?”
“Levi!” Natalie whispered beside her.
With a start, Levi glanced up from her plate to see her friend Natalie making eye motions toward the head of the table. Levi shifted her gaze to find her father standing, wineglass in hand, waiting patiently. And she realized he’d been calling her name. Her given name.
For the second time that afternoon, James Marshall McCord had her worried. He never called her Olivia. She’d been Levi since infancy, leaving little doubt how much he’d hoped for a son. But she’d never minded. She liked “Levi.” It fit the tomboy she’d been, the ranch woman she’d become. It fit her in a way she suspected “Olivia” never would.
“Levi?” he asked, smiling down the table at her. “Are you all right?”
That was exactly what she wanted to ask him. She met his gaze and saw something flicker in his blue eyes. He’d lied. And he knew that she knew it.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, brushing a tendril of hair back from her face. Her hair was long and dark, a wild mane of loose waves that fell to the middle of her back. Unlike her father’s once pale blond, straight hair. His blond had changed to white over the years, making him look even more distinguished. Levi, she was told, had taken after her mother in not only her looks and hair, but her strong-willed temperament.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid I wasn’t listening.”
James Marshall laughed, his gaze lingering affectionately on her for a long moment. “It’s all right, Levi. I know how politics bores you and lately that’s all we’ve talked about. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
Levi felt like the traitor she was. She didn’t just dislike politics, she hated it and she wished her father did, as well. She knew she was being selfish. Why couldn’t she be more like her cousin Robin, who not only wholeheartedly supported Senator James Marshall McCord’s political rise, but worked as his aide? Or even her friend Natalie, who at least took an interest.
But as Levi looked down the table at her father, it startled her to think that this larger-than-life handsome man with the deep blue eyes and an abundance of Texas charm could be the next president of the United States. And according to the polls, he had a good chance once he threw his hat into the ring. If he threw his hat into the ring.
“I was about to make a toast,” James Marshall said, his voice soft, his gaze warm as it moved around the table from Mary, who had always been more like family than their cook, to his top advisor Whitt Emory, to his niece and aide Robin, to Levi’s closest friend, Natalie.
He raised his wineglass. “You have all made this day very special by being here on the Altamira. I am very thankful to have you in my life.” His gaze stopped on Levi. “To Texas and all of you. Happy Thanksgiving!”
Levi lifted her glass without taking her eyes away from her father’s face. She took a sip of her wine, not even tasting it. She replayed the conversation she’d overheard between Sheriff Clint Richards and her father again, trying to convince herself that she’d just imagined he’d lied to the sheriff earlier.
“I got your message,” Clint had said to the senator. Both men had had their backs to her, neither aware of her presence just inside the den doorway. “I came right out.”
“Thanks, Clint, I—I’m sorry I bothered you, especially on Thanksgiving.”
“You made it sound urgent,” the sheriff said.
“One of the hands thought he’d found a place where some fence had been cut,” her father said. “But it doesn’t look like any cattle are missing or any real damage done.”
“You’re sure that’s all it was?” Clint sounded surprised.
Her father nodded. “I feel foolish for calling you. Especially today.”
“No problem. I’ll keep a lookout.”
That was when her father had turned to see her standing in the doorway. It was more than his startled expression. More than the fact that this was the first time Levi had heard about a cut fence. More than the mutual knowledge that the senator hadn’t been involved in running the ranch since he’d gotten into politics, years before. They both knew the ranch foreman, Freddie Caulder, wouldn’t have gone to him with the problem; he would have come to her.
Her father was lying. There was no cut fence. She could see it in his expression. Feel it in her heart. Nor would her father call Clint out on Thanksgiving over a cut fence.
James Marshall dropped his gaze from her. “Can you stay for Thanksgiving dinner?” he had asked Clint.
Levi had stepped away, shocked. She knew her father wouldn’t lie to Clint unless he had a good reason. So why had he really called the sheriff?
Clint politely declined dinner, saying he already had plans. She watched the sheriff leave, intending to have a word alone with her father.
But then Whitt had arrived, followed close behind by Robin and Natalie. A few minutes later, dinner was served.
“I was just telling Robin that the three of us should go on a vacation,” her father said now.
A vacation? Now? She glanced over at her cousin. Robin looked as surprised as Levi.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea, Senator.” Whitt spoke up, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to him.
Had her father changed his mind about running for president? Levi felt a surge of hope, then stopped herself. When James Marshall set his mind to something, nothing could deter him. He loved politics and believed he could make a difference. She knew he’d make a fine president. But she did wonder why he hadn’t declared his candidacy yet. What was holding him back? Was he having second thoughts? Did she dare hope?
“You are still planning to announce your candidacy for president?” she asked, her heart in her throat.
“Of course he’s going to run,” Robin said, sounding so proud of him that Levi felt herself flush with guilt.
“I just thought we could get away for a few days before...before all the craziness really begins,” her father said.
He was going to run, she thought. That was why he suggested a vacation now, before the holidays, before he declared, because who knew when they’d have time together after that.
“This just doesn’t seem like the time for you to leave, Jim,” Whitt said.
“Whitt’s right, Uncle Jim,” Robin echoed. “There is so much to be done. But it was a nice idea. Remember when the three of us went to Big Bend National Park?” That was right after Robin had come to live with them, not long after her father had been killed.
Levi felt her father’s gaze on her and looked up to meet it. Did his reason for lying to Sheriff Richards have anything to do with this sudden vacation for the three of them?
“You’re right, of course, Whitt. You too, Robin.” Her father looked disappointed. Or was it worried?
She stared at him, her mouth dry and her eyes burning. What was going on? Something. And damned if she wasn’t going to find out. Right after dinner was over, Thanksgiving or not.
Mary served pumpkin pie with whipped cream, offering her two cents worth as she joined them again at the table.
The short, plump redheaded cook had been with the McCord family since before Levi was born. Catherine Olivia McCord had died when Levi was three. James’ Marshall had never remarried. Mary had been like a mother to Levi, and later to Robin.
“You have to announce your candidacy before the New Year,” Mary said with authority. “Give the people of this country something to look forward to in the new millennium.”
“If the world doesn’t come to an end,” Whitt offered with a laugh.
The conversation around the table went quickly back to politics and when the senator should declare. Levi pushed pie around on her plate, feeling a distance that frightened her.
“Daddy, I need to talk to you,” she said the moment the meal was finally over.
“Sure, sweetheart.” The phone rang. He frowned. “Oh, Levi, I forgot, Whitt and Robin and I are expecting a conference call,” he apologized. “Can it wait until later?”
Levi started to say “No.” Something inside her feared it couldn’t wait, but she told herself she was being silly.
“Sure. I’m going to give Natalie a ride home,” she said, touching her father’s broad shoulder, feeling a strength that reassured her. “I won’t be long.”
He smiled and covered her small hand with his large one as he gazed down at her. His eyes suddenly shimmered and, quite without warning, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. “Trust me, Levi, everything’s going to be all right,” he whispered so softly she was afraid she hadn’t heard him right. “I love you. Remember that always.”
She clung to him, more afraid than ever. “Daddy—”
He pulled back. Whitt called from down the hall to say they were waiting for him. “I have to go.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Drive carefully. No, drive skillfully,” he said over his shoulder as he strode down the hall.
Levi watched him go. Although James Marshall wore a prosthesis in place of the leg he’d lost in Vietnam, he seldom let it show in his gait. Only when he was tired or upset did he limp. He was limping now, she noted.
He stopped at the doorway to his den and turned to look back at her. “Great to see you again, Natalie. Sorry to hear your car broke down, though.”
Levi watched him disappear into the room and close the door behind him as she fought the ridiculous feeling that she might never see him again.
“Are you all right?” Natalie asked beside her. “You’ve been acting weird today.”
“I’m worried about Daddy,” Levi said, thinking that when she got back to the ranch, she’d check with the foreman about a cut fence before she spoke with her father. She desperately wanted to be wrong. Or at least, if not wrong, get some answers that would make her feel a little less frightened.
“Don’t worry, he’ll make a great president,” Natalie said.
“Yeah?” So why did she feel that might not happen? Was it a premonition? Or just wishful thinking? “What if I don’t want to be a president’s daughter?”
Natalie slipped her arm around her friend. “Just think of the men who’ll want to date you.”
They both laughed. It felt good. “You want to call a tow truck for your car before we leave?”
“On Thanksgiving? No way. I’ll get it towed tomorrow. Come on, I’ve been dying all day to tell you about this guy I met at work.”
They crossed the wide veranda, the afternoon mild and scented with the fragrances of fall in the Texas Hill Country.
* * *
THE MOMENT LEVI PULLED OUT of the ranch road and headed down the two-lane county road that led into San Antonio, she picked up two vehicles tailing behind her instead of the usual one. She watched for a moment in her rearview mirror. Had her father increased her private security?
Levi sped up, then slowed. Both cars stayed the same distance behind her. The increased security could just be a precaution as the time neared for the senator to announce his candidacy for president. Or it could validate all her fears.
“What is it?” Natalie asked, turning to look back.
“Just more big, strong men paid to protect me,” Levi said. “Can’t wait until I have Secret Service following me everywhere.”
“Oh, you’ll love all that attention.”
“Sure, wait until we double-date.” Her father had hired the full-time security guards for her over a year ago, right after he received a death threat at the ranch. While it had turned out to be nothing, he’d kept the security guards on as a precaution. “You hang around me and we’ll both be old maids.”
“Remember that one time?” Natalie said, laughing. “That really cute bodyguard your father hired?”
Levi only half listened as she checked her rearview mirror again to see that both vehicles were still behind her. She had to admit that normally she resented the intrusion in her life, but today the security guards reassured her. They made her feel everything really might be all right, because she knew others like them were guarding the ranch right now. Guarding her father.
“Can you believe my new car broke down?” Natalie bemoaned as they passed the Mustang convertible parked on the edge of the road. “It’s a good thing Robin came along when she did.”
“Your car just quit?”
Natalie shrugged. “I told you we should have taken auto mechanics in college.”
“Or at least date someone who knows how to fix cars,” Levi suggested. “So tell me about this guy you met.”
They talked and laughed on the way to Natalie’s house, the cool night air blowing in the windows. It wasn’t until later, long after Levi was on the county road headed back home, the day dying around her and an approaching thunderstorm darkening the sky, that she happened to glance into her rearview mirror.
Her foot came off the gas. She stared into the mirror, then turned to look out the back window.
There were no car lights behind her. No cars. Nothing but empty road. She was alone. Completely alone.
Panic curled tight fingers around Levi’s throat as she stared back at the growing darkness. She swallowed, telling herself there was no cause for concern. But the lie wouldn’t go down. She’d lost her security guards. Wasn’t that what she’d often wished for? Freedom? Anonymity? What she considered an ordinary life?
She stared at the empty gravel road behind her. Suddenly she had her freedom, but she knew instinctively, this was not what she wanted. Not today.
For a moment, she thought about turning around and going back to look for them. But the thunderstorm was right behind her, moving in fast.
She sped up, watching the road ahead as she picked up the car phone and hurriedly dialed the ranch. Her hand shook as she held the phone against her ear and checked the rearview mirror. Nothing but the storm, the empty back road and the growing darkness.
She’d known for years that there were people who might use her to get to her father, but until tonight she hadn’t realized just what that meant, the danger not only to herself but ultimately to her father. She was Senator James Marshall McCord’s daughter. His only offspring. The daughter of a possible future president. He’d done everything he could to protect her from publicity and keep her out of the public eye. But being a politician’s daughter had always come with a price, none higher than at this moment.
As she waited for the phone to ring, she tried to think of a half-dozen good reasons why the security men weren’t behind her. She couldn’t come up with even one. They’d been told never to leave her. Never. Under any circumstances. They wouldn’t disobey Senator James Marshall McCord. They’d all been handpicked by him personally. So where were they?
It took Levi a moment to realize the phone wasn’t ringing. She hurriedly dialed again, thinking she’d missed a number, but halfway through she heard the silence and knew the phone was dead. She shook it, then checked the battery. For a long moment, she stared, uncomprehending, into the empty hole where the battery should have been. Had it fallen out? How could that have happened?
Her fear escalating, she threw down the phone and locked all the car’s doors. Ahead, the solitary beams of her headlights cut through the dark late Texas afternoon, making her feel all the more vulnerable.
She pushed down on the gas pedal, gathering speed, gathering courage. She was safe. There was a logical explanation for this. A logical explanation for everything that had happened today. But she knew better. She was alone for the first time since her father’s death threat more than a year ago. All alone on an isolated back road, miles from the ranch, miles from town.
Fear mixed with anger. She didn’t want this. Any of it. Her father had put his life in danger and hers, as well. Tears of anger blurred her vision.
The car fishtailed around a corner and she slowed, but not much. She knew she was driving too fast. But she felt an urgency to get to the ranch as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the road ahead was even more narrow and full of curves as it wound through the hills, and the storm was gaining on her.
She careened around another corner and was forced to slow even more for the next one. Ahead she could see Natalie’s new car in the barrow ditch where she’d left it earlier.
If the Mustang hadn’t broken down, Levi would be at the ranch now. The thought raced past, making her heart race with it. Surely Natalie’s car trouble wasn’t part of some plot to—To what? To get her out on this road today?
She was telling herself she was just being overly suspicious when she looked in her rearview mirror again. Instead of the blank darkness, light shone a few miles behind her. One of her security guards?
Suddenly she could think of several scenarios to explain their temporary absence. Maybe one had broken down, like Natalie’s car. Just an odd coincidence. Nothing to panic over.
Or maybe there’d been an accident involving one or both of the cars. It didn’t matter. She was convinced that at least one of them was with her again. She let out a sigh of relief as she waited for the car to catch her.
But as the vehicle neared, she saw that it wasn’t a set of headlights but a solitary light speeding toward her. And the vehicle didn’t slow, nor did it drop in behind her. It kept coming, moving faster than she thought necessary or prudent.
Ahead she could see a sharp curve in the road. Behind her, the single light grew larger and larger until it filled her car, blinding her.
At the curve, she belatedly realized she was going too fast. She hit the brakes and the car began to slide around the corner. Behind her, the single headlight stayed on her. But as she came out of the curve, it moved up fast on her left and roared past.
That was when she saw that it wasn’t a car at all but a motorcycle. A dark, hooded figure hunched over the bike as it disappeared over the next rise in a cloud of dust and dusky darkness.
Shaken, Levi slowed the car and relaxed her hands on the wheel, keenly aware of the trembling in her fingers, in her legs. She tried to calm herself. She felt idiotic. She’d actually thought the biker had planned to force her off the road. Instead, the fool was probably just trying to outrun the storm.
This wasn’t like her. She didn’t panic easily, didn’t let things spook her. But she was spooked.
Behind her, the road was again empty but darker as the storm swept in. Ahead, the single headlight beam of the motorcycle shone in the distance then disappeared around a bend in the road.
It comforted her a little just knowing she wasn’t alone on this back road. The ranch wasn’t far now. Another five miles to the turnoff. Then she’d be home. Safe.
Rain began to fall, huge, sopping drops that pelted the windshield like pebbles. Lightning lit the sky for an instant, then thunderclouds obliterated everything like some ominous eclipse.
She turned on the wipers, dropped down a hill and around a sharp curve. Her headlights picked up the stone abutments of the bridge over the creek and something else. Something in the middle of the road at the mouth of the narrow bridge. Something large and bright. The rain-streaked shine of polished chrome turned into a motorcycle. The motorcycle lay on its side in the middle of the road, the rider sprawled next to it, blocking the road.
Levi laid into her brakes, the car skidding through the downpour toward the fallen bike and rider.
The fool, she thought frantically. He’d been going way too fast for the conditions and the storm had still caught him.
She stopped the car just feet from the rider. Her headlights pierced the falling rain to illuminate skid marks in the gravel and mud, the wrecked bike, the motionless rider.
Levi didn’t remember rolling down her window as she brought the car to a standstill. But now rain swept in, accompanied by a low, mournful moan.
In the headlights, she saw the rider lift one arm, then let it drop again. As the rider tried to get up, the hood fell back, exposing a head of long red hair and a distinctive female profile. Another moan shattered the stillness.
Levi hesitated, but only for an instant. She realized that the woman could lie there for hours and no one else might come along on this road tonight, especially with it being Thanksgiving.
After opening the car door, Levi got out, the rain drenching her to the skin through the thin cotton of her holiday dress as she started toward the downed biker.
A boot heel crunched on the gravel behind her. Levi started to turn. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the outline of a large dark figure, but before she could react, strong arms enveloped her, lifting her off her feet. A massive hand muffled her screams as she was dragged backward through the rain.
In the glare of the headlights, she watched the redhead get effortlessly to her feet and turn to look at her. For a fleeting instant, Levi thought she saw surprise in the woman’s expression. Then she felt something prick her skin. And everything went black.
Chapter Two (#ulink_7b25a198-b6aa-5ce7-82a7-ef0c6eb120f7)
Levi swam in a sea of warm darkness, caught in its seductive hold. She didn’t know how long she’d been under as she began to swim toward the surface, sensing the light above her growing brighter.
If only she could open her eyelids, but the effort was too much. Her limbs felt leaden and her mind groggy and jumbled with strange, terrifying images that danced in and out and seemed so real. She tried to grasp one, but it scudded away, a wisp no more tangible than smoke.
Still shrouded in the ominous dreams, she finally managed to surface, opening her eyes a crack, afraid of what she’d find. She blinked, becoming aware of two things. She was in a small airplane—a private jet, by the plush interior and propellerless hum—and she was not alone.
* * *
FROM ACROSS THE AISLE, Seth Gantry watched her come out of the drug-induced sleep. The resemblance had been startling. He’d seen it the moment she stepped from her car into the glare of the headlights. Her hair, a tumble of dark burnished waves cascading around her shoulders. Her body, slim and long, softened by full curves.
It had stopped him like a shotgun blast to his chest. Shanna. He’d stood, too stunned to move. For one breath-stealing moment, he’d believed it really was her standing there. Then she’d turned and he’d seen the woman’s face. And reality had come like a blow.
But even now in the light of the plane’s interior, he could see similarities between the two women. The hair. The wide-set eyes fringed with dark lashes. The high cheekbones.
But he could also see differences. The full, sensual mouth. The patrician features.
And yet when she opened her eyes, he thought they would be blue. As blue as Texas bluebonnets. And as filled with that silent pleading as the last time he’d looked into them.
The woman opened her eyes, blinked, then looked over at him. They weren’t blue at all, but a surprising pale violet. And all he saw in them was a drugged blankness.
She wasn’t Shanna. Not that he’d really believed she was. Except for that split second of insanity. So why did just looking at her hurt so much?
“Hello,” he said, his voice rough with emotions he thought he’d buried years ago. Obviously he hadn’t buried them deep enough. Disappointment sat on his chest, making each breath a hard-won victory.
She blinked again, looking at him with an empty vagueness that confirmed the heavy-duty muscle relaxant had done its job.
The question was: How much did she remember? She looked confused and probably incoherent. But would she experience the usual short-term memory loss?
He hoped so. It would be better if she didn’t remember what had happened to her, he thought, absently rubbing his hand where she’d bitten him. Seth liked fight in a woman. Just not this woman. And not now.
As he watched her, he remembered the feel of her in his arms—her surprising physical strength, as well as her strength of will. He waited expectantly, still seeing Shanna in her and wishing he didn’t.
She offered a drunken lopsided smile. There was no sign of nausea, he thought, pleased with his choice of drugs. Nor any fear in her expression. Yet. He knew it would take a few minutes before she’d be coherent and by then they’d have landed and she wouldn’t be his problem anymore. This was one job he’d be glad to have over.
She frowned and looked around, her gaze questioning. He wondered if every emotion this woman felt showed as clearly on her face, or if it was just her drugged, uninhibited state. Again he felt that tug of interest and found himself wondering about her. He caught himself. It didn’t matter. Actually, it was better not to know. It made things easier. Less personal. And that’s the way he liked them.
“You’re in a plane,” he said in response to the look. “We’ll be landing soon.”
The brows unfurrowed. She blinked and seemed to study the plane as if she thought she should recognize it. Why did he get the feeling she’d been in a private jet before? For the moment, she seemed satisfied with his answer and he was glad of that.
When she looked at him again, the violet eyes registered flashes of random emotions from confusion to curiosity. But it was the intelligence he saw there that worried him. Intelligence and strength of will? Seth hoped he wouldn’t regret that he hadn’t handcuffed her to the seat.
* * *
SHE WAS FLYING? It didn’t surprise her. She felt airborne and wasn’t sure she even needed the aircraft. Her thoughts zipped in and out like fighter planes, so fast she couldn’t catch even one for more than an instant. Her body floated as if weightless, although it seemed to be slumped in the plush seat. Her brain was unable to get her limbs to respond.
She smiled to herself, relishing this alien notnecessarily-unpleasant feeling. If she’d been able to reason, she’d have been horrified at this inability to think or move, let alone the idea of waking in a jet with a strange man. She didn’t even like to have more than a glass of wine because of her need to be in control at all times.
But that Levi was gone. This Levi couldn’t care less. She soared. Free. And it felt...delicious.
While she had no fear of flying, she did wonder how this cowboy had ended up on her magic carpet ride. As she looked over at him, she also wondered who he was and how she felt about him. She had no idea how she should feel about him, since her mind was still senseless and her body wonderfully insensible, but she felt something. In fact, her awareness of him seemed magnified, as if just one touch, even one whiff, would tell her everything she needed to know.
She closed her eyes and sniffed. Mmm. Very male. Unique as fingerprints and just as telling, his masculine scent seemed to fill her with what she knew instinctively were small truths about him. Strong. She smiled as another truth invaded her senses. Sexy. Very sexy. She opened her eyes, drunk with the essence of him, and grinned. At least she thought she grinned.
He gave her a small smile. She thought she felt her grin deepen into a smile, but who knew. She liked to think at least her lips were working.
“Would you care for some juice?” he asked.
Nice voice. Soft, considerate and something else that dodged her grasp. Apprehensive? That didn’t make any sense. What would he have to be apprehensive about?
She passed on the juice with a laborious shake of her head, feeling too far beyond forming the words “No, thank you.”
He didn’t seem to mind. Part of her watched him open an orange juice and take a drink.
His hands drew her attention. Large hands. She blinked, still staring at his long, sensuous fingers, as a jolt of fear shot through her. Odd, she thought, dragging her gaze back to his face. Where had that come from?
Nothing about the man looked dangerous. Certainly not his face. It was a pleasing sculpture of strong angles and planes, broken by the midnight black of his thick cowboy mustache that softened the hardness of bone and muscle to make him downright handsome. The mustache filled his upper lip and curled down past the corner of each side of his wide, well-defined mouth. His hair, the same shiny black, was thick and long enough to brush his collar.
Dressed as he was, he could have passed for one of the ranchers who frequented the Cattleman’s Club in San Antonio. He wore jeans, a blue-checked western shirt, a leather vest, a tooled leather belt with an elk-horn buckle and western boots. A Stetson sat atop a sheepskin coat on the empty seat to his left.
He rested one long, muscular leg on the knee of the other and appeared as complacent as a tomcat sunning himself.
She decided there was nothing about this cowboy that seemed cause for concern. And yet...she couldn’t remember what he was doing here any more than she could remember what she was doing here.
What was wrong with her anyway? She still felt a little...drunk. But she didn’t remember drinking even one full glass of wine at dinner. Strange. She didn’t remember much of anything since dinner, she thought as she glanced out the window.
It was dark outside. She frowned as she looked down at her watch. Seven-thirty. Thanksgiving Day. Startled, she realized her last clear memory was driving back from taking Natalie into San Antonio. That had been just a little after five o’clock. How could she have lost two and a half hours? And more importantly, what had happened between then and now?
In that time, she could have flown hundreds—even thousands—of miles from home. But why had she? Worse yet, she still hadn’t been able to place the man with her. Of course she had to know him. She’d never get into a plane with a total stranger. Maybe he was a friend of Natalie’s.
She looked over at him again, a sense of something at the edge of her memory, something... foreboding.
“You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m afraid I don’t know who you are or where we’re going,” she said politely, always a senator’s daughter. “I think I might have imbibed a bit too much.” That wouldn’t have been like her at all, but how else could she explain this?
“Don’t worry about that now,” he said, giving her a smile. “You should get changed before we land.” He handed her a large, bulging shopping bag. “I need to speak to the pilot. Since you’re still a little woozy, you might want to change right here.” With that, he got up and left.
She stared after him. Still a little woozy? But why was that? And why did she need to change?
Inside the bag, she found jeans, a plaid flannel shirt, a winter coat, boots, hat, wool socks and gloves. Wherever they were headed must be cold.
The moment she tried to get to her feet to change, she realized he was right: she was woozy. She sat down again and dressed as quickly as she could, considering her body still wasn’t reacting sensibly and she had no idea when the man would return. For some reason, the thought of adding more clothing made her somehow feel...safer. Safer from what?
She was trying to puzzle out these odd thoughts, when the plane began its descent. Out the window she could see no lights, no illuminated landmarks, just a nothingness as if she were being dropped into outer space. Waking in a private jet had come with a certain sense of security. Even the stranger hadn’t posed any threat. So how did she explain her growing anxiety? It was those dark, frightening images banked at the back of her brain. Were they memories? Or just bad dreams?
She wished he’d return so she could ask him some questions now that she felt a little better. Before they touched down, she’d like to know what she was doing here. And with him.
The wheels hit and bounced, then settled into the runway. She’d expected to see more than a narrow strip of runway lights. They had to be in the middle of nowhere.
She swallowed hard. What in the—She caught sight of a hangar as the plane taxied toward it. Behind the hangar, the lights of some town glowed. She let out the breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. She never thought the mere sight of lights would excite her.
Lights. A memory skidded past. Her heart took off again as she tried to corner a clear image. She almost had it, but then the plane stopped and the cowboy came out of the. cockpit.
She looked up at him, frustrated at his timing and, at the same time, glad to see him. She wanted desperately to extinguish the fear rising in her. This man had done nothing to make her fearful so why—
Her eyes locked with his. Eyes as black as the bottom of a well. She felt a start. There was something there. But something that justified her fears?
Outside the plane, someone pulled down the steps. She stood and started toward the door, not sure she could trust her mind, let alone her instincts. She’d wanted answers, but right now she just wanted off this plane and away from this cowboy and the images flickering in her head. Horrible images that if true—
He stepped in front of her, one large hand absently rubbing the palm of the other as he stared at her. His look sent a shudder through her.
She dropped her gaze, letting it fall to his large hands again and felt that flicker of a memory just beyond her grasp. He quit rubbing his palm and she saw something that stopped her heart dead. Teeth marks.
* * *
SETH HAD COME OUT of the cockpit already distracted because of the change in plans. He wouldn’t be dropping her at the airstrip after all, but taking her on by helicopter to the cabin. He swore under his breath; he hated changes. But mostly he just wanted this to be over.
Then he’d looked up and seen her.
Even if she hadn’t reminded him of Shanna, he’d have been thrown off guard by her. She looked damn good in jeans and a flannel shirt, round and full in all the right places, just as he’d known she would. She’d pulled her wild mane of hair back with a thin lavender ribbon from her dress and rolled up the sleeves on the shirt, exposing lightly freckled, sun-browned forearms.
But it was her face, with those incredible violet eyes, that made him unable to keep his gaze—and his thoughts—off her, no matter how hard he tried to keep his distance.
That’s why it took him a moment to realize that more than her clothes had changed.
Although trying hard not to show it, she’d remembered something. It showed in that incredible face, just like every emotion she’d felt so far.
He could only guess what she’d remembered. Not that it mattered now. But as he followed her gaze to the palm of his right hand, at least he knew what had triggered it.
Suddenly the door to the plane yawned open, a gaping dark hole beside him. A gust of cold air whooshed in, scented with pine and snow. God, it had been so long. The air brought with it a rush of remembrances, some so painful he felt as if he’d been blindsided.
Of course she took that opportunity to dart for the open doorway. He dropped a hand to her shoulder and gently pulled her back.
Her eyes widened as she lifted her face to him. “Who are you?” Her voice had an edge to it, as if warning him that he just might not know whom he was dealing with.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” he said. “It isn’t about me.”
“Then who is it about?” she asked. “My father?”
“I don’t know. Neither will you until we get to the cabin.”
“The cabin?” Her gaze refused to release him. It was as if she could see into his very soul. From the disgust on her face, she didn’t like what she saw there. “You’re not telling me anything.”
“It’s the best I can do.” Seth could see that wasn’t good enough. “It will all be clear when we get to the cabin.” Indecision played across her features. “I hope it won’t be necessary for me to drug you again,” he said softly.
The violet eyes widened for an instant, then narrowed in an emotion he recognized only too clearly. Fury.
“Good,” he said. “It appears we understand each other.”
* * *
OH, SHE UNDERSTOOD him all right. She’d been kidnapped! The frightening images in her head had been real! Memories scudded by like dark ominous clouds. The sound of him behind her, the overwhelming arms tightening around her, the hand covering her mouth. Screaming inside. Fighting. Fighting fruitlessly in helpless terror. Then the prick of a needle in her arm. Then nothing.
The bastard had drugged her! And now he’d threatened to do it again unless she cooperated. She glared at him. Tears stung her eyes but she would not cry. Tears would show weakness. She had to be strong, keep her head, use her head.
He pulled on his sheepskin coat, settled the Stetson on his head, his gaze steady, impassive and honed in on her like radar, but calm. Too calm. A shiver raced through her. A man who’d just kidnapped Texas Senator James Marshall McCord’s daughter should be worried as all get-out. Only a crazy man wouldn’t be. A crazy man. Or a man who had nothing to lose. She stared at him, afraid he just might be both.
“Let’s go,” he said as he picked up her clothes and stuffed them into a backpack from behind his seat. He nudged her forward, his hand firmly on her shoulder. “Watch your step.”
She didn’t miss the warning in his words. But she had no intention of doing anything that would give him an excuse to drug her again. Drugged, she didn’t stand a chance.
At the open doorway she stopped to look out. Snow. It shone, silver-white against the dark of night; it covered the ground as far as she could see. Whoever had opened the door didn’t seem to be around anymore, but nearby a helicopter waited.
The cowboy took hold of her the moment they stepped onto the frozen ground and drew her toward the chopper, his hand clamped firmly around her upper arm, his body pressed against her side.
She looked around, hoping there would be other people, someone she could call to for help. But the airstrip was empty and a large white expanse of open field ran for a good mile in the direction of the lights of the town. The only building, the hangar, sat dark and empty.
As she neared the whirring blades of the helicopter, wind spun the fallen snow, showering her in white ice-cold powder. The door opened and she was pushed up into a seat behind the pilot. Her kidnapper slid in next to her, his thigh against hers in the tight confines of the chopper.
Before she could buckle up, the helicopter lifted off, spinning away into the night. She pressed herself to the side window, pulling away from him. All she could see below was the shine of the snow broken occasionally by the dark fringe of the evergreens and the rise and fall of mountains as the chopper skimmed low over them.
Without a word, he reached across to snap her seat belt closed, forcing her to touch him again.
His closeness assaulted her senses. But this time, his male scent evoked memories of the kidnapping, the same way his muscled thigh against her leg reminded her how easily he could overpower her. The images danced before her. Pouring rain. Darkness. His arms clamped around her and the helplessness she’d felt as he’d dragged her away from her car, away from her life.
She looked back. The lights of the town were gone. Slowly she turned to stare ahead again into the darkness, her heartbeat a deafening roar in her ears. Tears blurred her eyes as sobs rose in her throat, choking her. She’d been kidnapped. The ramifications had finally hit home. All her bravado, all her control, all her toughness deserted her. She was afraid, ice-in-the-veins afraid.
* * *
THEY WEREN’T IN THE AIR but a few minutes when the helicopter dropped low, hovered for a moment, then set down in a cloud of whirling snow.
“Ladies first,” her cowboy kidnapper said as he leaned over to open her door.
She glanced at the pilot, but immediately changed her mind about making a desperate attempt to gain his help. The man had to be in on this.
She reached down, her fingers fumbling with the seat belt buckle. Suddenly the cowboy’s hands covered hers and she felt the buckle release. No more stalling. This was it.
She slid out of the seat and down, tom between the fears that he planned to leave her out here alone and that he was coming with her. He stepped down beside her, grasping her arm again as he leaned over her, shielding her from the pounding ice crystals as the chopper lifted off.
Within moments the whir of its blades died away, as did the lights of the helicopter. She waited for the darkness to close in. But it didn’t. An almost full moon rose above the low-hanging clouds, illuminating them and casting an eerie light across the snow. In that strange light, she could see that they’d landed in a small, isolated meadow. Past it, she could see nothing but snow, pine trees and mountains. No sign of life. Except for the man beside her.
Her pulse drummed in her ears as she looked over at him, and she felt her first real sense of hysteria since she’d been abducted. She hadn’t been alone with this man in the jet. Or the helicopter. But now, in this isolated part of some backwoods, she was completely alone with her kidnapper. It hit her with such force, her knees threatened to give way beneath her. What did he plan to do with her now?
Next to her, he stood, his head cocked as if listening. Then his attention swung to her. “Come on.” He took her hand and she trudged in his wake, wading through the fallen snow, trying to keep up and, at the same time, see where she was going. The country looked wild and unsettled. She hated to imagine where he might be taking her.
Then he topped a small rise and she saw the cabin. It loomed up out of the darkness, a small A-frame, as picturesque as a ski lodge in the Swiss Alps.
He’d told her she’d find out everything at the cabin, but no lights shone from the windows, no smoke curled up from the chimney, nor did any tracks mar the snow. It didn’t look as if anyone were home. Had he lied to her just to get her up here without a fight? She doubted that as she followed him across the meadow. He’d also threatened to drug her again. She didn’t doubt he would have gotten her here one way or the other.
By the time Levi reached the front steps of the cabin, she just hoped it was warm and dry inside. She didn’t think past that, afraid to.
She followed the cowboy up the untracked snowy steps to the front deck. He seemed to hesitate at the door. She followed his gaze to a ramp off one end of the deck. It too was covered in fresh, unblemished snow.
She watched him frown as he looked back at the steps, as if he’d also noticed the lack of tracks and was bothered by it. Then he tried the door. It opened in his hand. She saw him reach inside and an instant later, a light came on. He quickly stepped in and pulled her in behind him.
The cabin was old-fashioned, quaint, although definitely male. She wondered if it was his, and hoped it was because the place made her believe that the man who lived here wasn’t dangerous.
He left her standing in the middle of the room. Not that he ever really let her out of his sight as he opened the doors to each of the rooms, seeming to look for something. Or someone.
The clock on the wall said it was only eight forty-five and yet she felt exhausted. Had it been less than five hours since her father had made a toast at their Thanksgiving dinner on the ranch?
She realized her kidnapper had stopped searching the rooms. He stood looking at her, frowning, his gaze obviously troubled.
“What is it?” she asked, her fear rising.
He shook his head, turned and began rummaging through drawers, pulling out items, which he thrust into his backpack. That relaxed Texas cowboy on the jet was gone; this man was anxious and on alert. She watched in alarm as he threw things into the backpack, including a pistol, then ushered her out the front door again, closing it behind them.
He stopped on the deck, appearing to listen again, then without warning, swung her up into his arms and took one long-legged step to the corner of the small deck. He lowered her to the ground below.
What in the world?
“Don’t move,” he ordered in a whisper before he jumped down beside her. She watched him break off a limb from a nearby pine tree, urging her to walk across the open space beyond the A-frame toward the darkness. Behind them, he began to brush the fresh snow over their tracks.
Levi stared ahead into the wall of dark pines, cold and sick inside. Where was he taking her now?
Once in the dense trees, he took the lead again, drawing her deeper into their seclusion as the land rose sharply. She climbed until she thought her lungs would burst from the high altitude and cold.
By the time another structure appeared, the cold and the climb had zapped her energy. She was tired and ready to quit walking. He didn’t even seem to be breathing hard, although he’d been the one bucking the deep, soft snow, making somewhat of a trail for her.
The dark edge of a log structure materialized out of the night and the pines. Slowly it took shape. Rustic. Small. Isolated. Barely a shack. More like a four-sided lean-to. Nothing like the A-frame they’d left behind.
She didn’t realize she’d stopped walking until she felt the tug on her arm.
“Hey,” he said, and stepped so close to her that he forced out the night air. She stared down at his gloved hand on hers. “It’s not the Hilton, but it’ll be warmer and drier than out here.”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her throat felt swollen with the tears she’d held at bay. All she could think about was what he planned to do to her in there. It was the kind of place that might already have bodies buried under the worn floorboards—if it had a floor at all.
Her kidnapper lifted her chin until she was looking directly up under the brim of the Stetson and straight into his shadowed face. She couldn’t see his eyes but she could feel his heated gaze.
“Look, I know you’re cold and tired,” he said, as if she were simply rebelling against the accommodations. He must have felt her trembling. “You can warm up here and rest.”
It was the most he’d said to her in hours. But it was the tone that made her want to cry. Why was he being so nice now?
From inside the backpack, he took out a large flashlight, but he didn’t turn it on.
Levi glanced in the direction they’d come. She could see the lights the cowboy had left on in the cabin below them. They cast a gentle glow across the snow, making the winter scene warm and inviting. Why had he made her walk all the way up this mountainside?
He opened the shack door, seemed to listen for a moment, then motioned for her to follow. It wasn’t until they were inside that he turned on the flashlight.
Her heart sank as she saw that the one room was pretty much as she’d feared it would be: empty, except for years of dust, an old table, a couple of mismatched chairs and a cot.
His look brought the fear back in a heartbeat. “You can lie down over there,” he said, motioning to the cot. He reached into the backpack for a wool blanket and tossed it to her.
She swallowed hard. “What do you want with me?” Her voice broke and she hated the vulnerability she heard in it.
He stepped to her, letting the beam of the flashlight bore into the dusty worn wood at their feet as he gazed down at her. When he spoke his voice was soft, almost compassionate, but behind the words was an urgency, a warning. “I just want you to sit quietly until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”
She nodded and stepped past him to the cot, her heart aching for her family, for home. How long would she have to stay in this cabin with this man? Or would he ever let her leave here?
The flashlight went out, plunging them into a chilly, thick darkness. She waited for her eyes to adjust, telling herself this might be her chance. Maybe, if she could use one of the cot legs as a weapon...
She heard him prying boards from the window. A little of the snowy night spilled in. She could see him now, sitting in the chair he’d pulled up in front of the glassless opening. She reached down, feeling around with her hand. If she could get one of the legs free—
“Don’t,” he said.
Her gaze shot up. He wasn’t facing her, but intent on looking through the window opening with what appeared to be some kind of binoculars. Nightvision goggles?
“Don’t be foolish,” he continued conversationally, still not looking in her direction. “You wouldn’t stand a chance against me.” His voice was low and soft and unthreatening, but the words hit her like stones. “Before you can get up and cross the room, I’ll stop you. Because I won’t have a lot of time to deal with you, it might be painful. So I suggest you just do as I ask. Hopefully, we won’t be here long.”
She straightened slowly, holding her breath, afraid to make a sound or move too quickly. Who was this man and what did he want with her? Levi stared at him, sure he was watching the A-frame where the helicopter had dropped them off. Waiting. For what? A ransom drop?
She heard him shift in the chair. She prayed that money was all he wanted. Her father would pay the ransom, even a very large one. Then she would go home.
Otherwise...she could only bide her time. Wait for him to make a mistake. Even men like him had to make mistakes. And she’d be ready when he did.
* * *
THROUGH THE GLASSES, Seth watched the A-frame and the snowy landscape around it. He could see the twin tracks where the helicopter had set down in the snow and the two pairs of boot prints that led up to the front steps of the cabin.
He waited and watched, trying to nail down exactly what was bothering him. The change of plans. He was supposed to have met Wally at the airstrip. He was supposed to have handed over the woman. Job done.
But when he’d gone up to see the pilot, he’d been informed that a helicopter would be waiting to take them to the cabin. He’d told himself he was just being overly suspicious. Or maybe his apprehension just had to do with the woman. That she’d reminded him of Shanna filled him with a sense of dread he couldn’t shake off. Returning to Montana after all these years, facing all the memories and regrets, well, that was also taking its toll.
He squeezed his eyes for a moment to chase away the thoughts. Thoughts of Shanna. Thoughts of this woman. Both were all tangled into a knot of heartache.
Damn. He’d wanted to be back in Texas, this woman no longer his concern. Instead he was in a cold miner’s shack on a snowy mountainside fighting a terrible sense of déjà vu, as if history were about to repeat itself and, like last time, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
Had the woman thrown off his instincts so much that he was jumping at shadows? Seth shook his head in disgust. He was going to look like a damn fool when he had to tromp down this mountain to deliver the woman.
Behind him, she was no longer moving around. He could hear her breathing softly. Had she finally given up and fallen asleep? Or was she sitting, waiting anxiously, wondering what to expect now? Welcome to the club.
He tried to relax. Everything had gone fine—at least at his end. Better than fine. He had her and all he had to do was hand her over to Wally. So where was Wally? Why had he changed the plan? It was so unlike him.
Seth scanned the landscape around the A-frame, seeing nothing but trees and snow. Fool. He should be in that cabin right now with a fire roaring, a mug of hot coffee and—
The A-frame exploded right before his eyes. The flash blinded him as the cabin turned into a fireball. A few seconds later, the blast echoed in his ears. He stared, dumbfounded, struck by that sense of déjà vu. And doom.
First, the change of plans. Now, this. He stared at the burning cabin, then turned to the woman on the cot, and a jolt of something stronger and much more potent than adrenaline raced through him. Cold, hard fear. Who the hell was this woman?
Chapter Three (#ulink_7b25a198-b6aa-5ce7-82a7-ef0c6eb120f7)
“Who are you?”
Levi awoke with a start, amazed she’d actually fallen asleep. Probably the side effects of that drug he’d given her earlier. The sound of an explosion rang in her ears, but only the smell of smoke made her believe she hadn’t dreamed it.
Before she could move, she looked up to find the cowboy standing over her, yelling down at her, his words making no sense. What had blown up?
“Who are you?” he asked again.
She sat up, pulled the scratchy wool blanket to her and gazed up at him, afraid. “What?” was all she got out before he jerked her to her feet.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded as he ripped off the blanket and threw it onto the cot.
“You know who I am,” she cried, staring at him as if he were a madman as well as a kidnapper.
“Tell me your name,” he demanded from between clenched teeth.
“Levi.”
He frowned. “Levi? Levi who?”
She couldn’t understand what it was he wanted from her or why he was so upset. “McCord. Levi McCord.”
He released her as if she were a live wire. “McCord? Levi McCord? Not—” He stared at her. “Tell me you’re not related to Senator McCord.”
Was this some sort of trick? “He’s my father.”
He swore loudly, raked a hand through his hair, then looked at her again as if he’d never seen her before. “You’re James Marshall McCord’s daughter.”
“Olivia McCord,” she said almost indignantly. “Levi’s a nickname.” She frowned as a thought buzzed past like a bullet. “But you had to know that when you kidnapped me. Why else ” She stopped, even more confused. -
He let out a harsh laugh and looked up at the ceiling, still shaking his head. He was a madman. Or he really hadn’t known who she was. Or both. He swung his gaze back to her and cursed, his eyes dark and disturbed.
She came fully awake with an anger of her own. “Who are you?” she demanded. Her head had cleared some from the short, fitful, exhausted sleep and the rude awakening and the drug he’d given her earlier. “You kidnapped me and you didn’t even know who I was?” What kind of sense did that make? She was even more angry than she had been. The anger felt so much better than the fear. “Talk to me, damn you.”
“Not now,” he growled as he thrust the flashlight into the backpack and pulled the drawstring closed, his movements hurried, anxious. “We have to get out of here.”
He stepped to the door, opened it and stood silhouetted against the snowfall, waiting impatiently for her.
She moved as if sleepwalking to the window opening in the wall and looked out. Below her in the clearing, what was left of the A-frame burned bright in the night. Her heart thudded at the ramifications. They could have been in that cabin!
“Come on,” he ordered when she didn’t move toward him. “Trust me, now isn’t the time to give me trouble.”
She turned to look at him, feeling the effects of adrenaline and exhaustion, anger and fear. She didn’t move, just stared at him, determined not to take another step until she had an explanation. “Tell me. Now.”
He shook his head in obvious frustration. “Let me put it to you simply. Somebody firebombed the cabin because they thought we were inside it. I don’t know how close they are or if they’ve already found our tracks and are headed up this mountain right now, but I think they’re probably not going to give up until they kill us. How’s that?”
She swallowed hard. “Why would someone want to kill us?”
“You tell me.”
He was blaming her for this?
“But I’m not staying here to find out,” he said before she could respond. “Now get your butt out that door or I’ll drag you. Believe me, you won’t slow me down that much. At least not for long.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. The moment she moved toward him, he grabbed her and propelled her through the open doorway. It was still dark outside, except for the fiery glow where the A-frame had been.
The air felt colder. Or maybe it was just the cold inside her as he pulled her through the pines, his grip strong and firm and unrelenting. She had to run to keep up with his long stride. They dropped down the other side of the mountain, away from the smell of charred wood.
She felt dazed. Who had blown up the A-frame? Why had the man now dragging her off this mountain kidnapped her without even knowing who she was? It made no sense. Nothing made any sense. But if he meant her real harm, wouldn’t he have just killed her and left her behind at the shack? Or...was she worth more to him alive?
The air suddenly turned white and wet with fog. He kept moving. The mist wove through the snowladen pines, growing denser and denser until she couldn’t see but a few feet in front of her. He slowed a little, not much.
Then she heard it. The sound of water lapping softly. Moments later, they stumbled on the bank of what appeared to be a wide creek. On the snowy edge, he finally stopped and she leaned over, her hands on her knees, to catch her breath.
Without warning, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, reminding her again how strong he was as he waded into the icy water.
She started to protest, but he stopped her with a low warning growl. Common sense told her this was not the time.
He headed upstream into the fog, his hand resting on her rump as she bounced along on his shoulder. She thought she heard a helicopter. He must have, too, because he stopped for a moment to listen, then continued upstream.
Finally he put her down on the opposite bank and climbed out beside her. She watched him through a film of fog as he went to a spot along the bank and pulled branches back from a canoe.
The movement came out of the smudged darkness of the pines off to her right. She saw it from the corner of her eye, but didn’t get a sound out before the movement became a man. He seemed a part of the fog, a blur of white clothing and mask, until she saw a rifle in his gloved hands. She didn’t have time to think, let alone react. Unlike her kidnapper. He turned, sensing danger. Just as the attacker swung the rifle butt at her, the cowboy grabbed for the barrel and jerked, throwing the attacker off balance.
The blow did little more than send her sprawling into the snow. But by then the cowboy had sent the attacker flying. The man landed on his back hard, the rifle falling from his hands and sliding down the bank into the cold stream. As the cowboy leaped after him, she saw the attacker pull something from his boot. A knife blade glittered as the two struggled in the snow.
She froze as she watched them fight, her thoughts frantic. What should she do? Run! But run where? She got to her feet but couldn’t see more than a few feet in the dense fog and didn’t know the terrain, didn’t even know where she was. Think! The canoe. Take the canoe. She rushed over to it and was hurriedly trying to pull it out of its hiding place when she heard a splash behind her and swung around.
“Did he hurt you?” her kidnapper asked, sounding almost concerned for her. He picked up his Stetson from the snow and shoved it down on his head, then stumbled toward her, his breathing labored. He was covered in snow, and blood seeped from a wound on his temple.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded. He wiped at the wound. It didn’t look deep or life threatening.
She shook her head and looked past him. The attacker was gone. “Where is he?” she asked, her voice breaking.
The cowboy pointed across the creek. “He got away.”
She stared into the darkness of the pines. “What makes you so sure he won’t be back?”
“I’m not, but I would imagine he’ll go for help. He was wounded. Not bad. Just a cut on his arm, but enough that I don’t think he’ll be back—at least for a while. By then we’ll be gone.”
From behind a wall of tears, she saw him reach for her, but he didn’t seem to have enough fight left in him to stop her as she sidestepped him. He let his hand drop as she moved to the edge of the water where the two had been fighting. She dropped to her knees in the churned snow, wishing for some way to confirm the cowboy’s story—or her worst fears. Had the other man come to rescue her... or kill her?
“From here on out, you’re going to have to trust me,” her kidnapper said behind her, his voice rough. “Or at least do as I tell you.”
“How do I know you didn’t have the cabin booby-trapped so it would blow up when someone came after me?” Levi snapped. She was angry and afraid, but equally tired and cold. “Obviously you knew someone was going to come. Isn’t that why you dragged me up the mountain to that shack where you could watch for them? Isn’t that why you hid this canoe by the creek?”
“It isn’t a creek. It’s a river,” he said as he came up behind her. “And I didn’t hide the canoe. Its owner did, years ago.”
She stepped back away from him. The cowboy had just made his first mistake.
“Don’t come any closer,” she warned, aiming the pistol she’d found in the snow.
He stopped and raised his hands, palms out. “I take it you’ve fired one of those before?”
“Many times.”
He nodded as if he should have known, the way his day was going.
“I want some answers and I want them now,” Levi said.
“You definitely pick your moments,” he said with a tired sigh.
“Who was that?” she demanded.
The cowboy shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“Why was he trying to kill you?”
“I would assume he thought it would be easier to knock you unconscious, kill me first, then you,” he answered matter-of-factly. “But that’s just a guess.”
She groaned. “How do you know he didn’t intend to push me out of the way, to save me from you?”
“With the butt of his rifle?”
“Maybe that’s the best he could do at short notice,” she argued.
“Maybe.”
She waited for him to convince her she was wrong. He didn’t even try. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you?”
He pushed his Stetson back from his forehead. “Because there’s probably more of them out there and if you fire that pistol, the sound will only give them our location.” He said it softly, conversationally and with an arrogance that made her trigger finger itch. “Plus, you’re smart enough to think that I just might be the lesser of two evils.”
“You’re the one who kidnapped me. Why would I think you’re less dangerous?”
“Then shoot me.” He started toward her. “Because, otherwise, we’ve got to get out of here.”
“You come any closer and I‘ll—” She gripped the pistol in her hand, feeling the cold steel of the trigger just beneath her finger. He stepped up to her. “Don’t—”
With ease and speed, he snatched the gun from her hand and stuffed it into the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t ever pull a gun on me again unless you intend to use it.”
She stood trembling as he turned his back on her. He pushed the canoe into the water and held it steady before he settled his gaze on her again. “Get in.”
The order made her bristle. Around them the fog seemed to be getting colder, wetter and more dense by the minute. “I should have shot you when I had the chance,” she said, glaring at him.
“Probably,” he agreed. “But since you didn’t, get into the canoe.” He swore when she didn’t move. “My name’s Seth. And I didn’t kidnap you, not exactly. Now get in before you get us both killed.”
She glanced across the river, then moved to the canoe and got in without a word as he pushed them off.
The current caught the small craft, sucking it into the fog bank. She wrapped her arms around herself, huddling in the front of the boat. There were so many questions she wanted to ask Seth—if that was his real name—but she knew he wasn’t going to tell her anything until he was good and ready. And she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t right, that there weren’t others out there, just waiting to attack them. So she remained silent, something extremely hard for her to do under even ordinary circumstances. Only nothing was ordinary about this. Or the man she was with.
She felt him paddle them out into the fast water, as if he’d done it a hundred times. Maybe he had. She had the feeling this man could do anything. Who was he anyway? And what was she doing with him, as if she had a choice? She shivered, remembering the look he’d given her when he’d taken the gun from her hand. Instinctively she knew he was dangerous. So why had he saved her life? Not once, but twice. Or had he?
She stared into the fog, her brain and body numb. Part of her feared an attack from the banked whiteness. Another part feared she was in more danger from the man in the canoe than anyone who came out of the fog.
The river lapped at the sides of the boat; the fog rushed by. Where were they headed now? She felt caught up in something bigger than herself as the canoe swept down the river with nothing to gauge distance by other than the feel of the wind on her face and the whisper of the fog as it sailed past. Time seemed suspended. She watched Seth paddle and felt like the water, racing toward something. But what?
Then in the distance she heard the sound of a waterfall.
Chapter Four (#ulink_7b25a198-b6aa-5ce7-82a7-ef0c6eb120f7)
Senator James Marshall McCord’s daughter! Seth still couldn’t believe it. As he paddled down the river in the cloud-veiled moonlight and fog, he tried to convince himself that it was some kind of terrible mistake. A case of mistaken identity. A glitch in paperwork. He couldn’t have snatched the wrong woman. His instructions had been too specific.
Exactly. His instructions had been too specific. There was no mistake. He was supposed to abduct the senator’s daughter. The question was why?
Only one person could answer that: Wally.
In Seth’s business, jumping to conclusions was dangerous. So he fought hard not to as the canoe drifted through the fog, the water lapping softly at the side, the air cold and wet with the promise of more snow.
Because right now the conclusion was that he’d been set up. Not just for the kidnapping but for the woman’s murder. And that dishonor was to have been awarded posthumously.
The problem was, he couldn’t believe anyone would go to this kind of trouble to frame him, let alone kill him. He just wasn’t worth it.
But Olivia McCord was, he reminded himself.
And, somehow, he had to keep her safe until he could get her back to her family and straighten this out.
So far he’d been going on gut instinct. He’d known something was wrong at the airstrip, when Wally hadn’t met them and instead had them choppered in to the cabin. At Wally’s cabin, everything had just felt...wrong.
Once the cabin had blown to smithereens—well, his instincts told him that straightening this out wasn’t going to be easy.
Olivia McCord. He studied her dark huddled form at the other end of the canoe as he let the craft drift, the fog rushing around it, the banks blurring by, white with snow, the water deep and dark and cold. The name didn’t suit her. Olivia was too soft a name, too womanly, too feminine sounding. That woman, the one he’d glimpsed in the glare of the car headlights, reminded him too much of Shanna.
But “Levi” fit the spitfire who’d drawn down on him with the loaded pistol. He shook his head, the difference between Shanna and this woman never more clear.
He remembered the day he’d tried to get Shanna to learn to shoot so she could defend herself. She’d finally handed the pistol back to him, more afraid of the gun than anyone who might want to harm her.
Seth blinked. No, Levi was nothing like Shanna when she had a .44 Magnum in her hand. But there was that other side of her. The soft, sexy, definitely female woman in the lavender dress. The one that reminded him of Shanna. The one he had to avoid at all costs.
He swore under his breath. It didn’t matter who Levi reminded him of, what he called her or how he cared to think of her, she was still the Texas senator’s daughter. And Seth Gantry was in a world of hurt.
“Excuse me.”
He blinked at the sound of her voice and realized she was staring at him, the same way he’d been staring at her.
“Sounds like a waterfall,” she pointed out.
He nodded. The roar of rushing water grew louder as the canoe floated through the fog toward it.
“We aren’t going over it, right?” She sounded more annoyed than worried, as if going over a waterfall would be the last straw.
“Don’t worry,” he said, thinking they had a lot more to worry about than simply drowning. “We’ll be getting out pretty soon.”
“Where exactly are we?” She sounded weary, as if some of the fight had gone out of her. He only wished. He had enough to fight without adding her to the list.
“On the Boulder River. In Montana.” He figured he owed her that much.
“Montana?” She made it sound as though he’d taken her to the North Pole. But even Montana was a long way from home for a Texas girl.
“About twenty miles south of Big Timber.” The canoe rounded the bend in the river, the waterfall a thunder ahead of them. He could feel the icy spray of the falls in the air and see it freezing on the rocks along the high bank, frosty-white.
He reached out to grab an eddy with his paddle and the canoe swung into a large washed-out cave in the rocks.
Levi didn’t take any urging; she was out the moment the canoe touched solid ground again. Did she think she was safe now?
“You’re from here, aren’t you.”
It wasn’t a question. Actually, it sounded more like an accusation. And she had to yell it to be heard over the thundering water.
He climbed out beside her, then let the canoe go. He watched until it disappeared into the fog, into the roar of the waterfall. “Yeah, I grew up around here.”
She nodded, studying him with eyes that saw too much. “They’ll know we didn’t go over with the canoe,” she said. She was close enough she didn’t have to yell; too close for comfort. “Now what?”
“Now we steal a vehicle.”
She raised a brow. “Just like that.”
He hoped. Steal a vehicle. Get to a phone. Call Wally. That’s as far as he’d thought it out. But he didn’t want to have to explain his lack of a real plan to this woman, so with an urgency that had nothing to do with whoever might be after them, he led the way out of the rocks, motioning for her to keep quiet. He stayed in the shelter of the pines, sneaking along through the trees and rocks.
The fog thinned as they left the river bottom, but the low-hanging clouds made the air smell wet. It hadn’t started to snow yet, but Seth knew it would. Soon.
At one point, he thought he heard a helicopter again, but he never saw its lights.
The old farmhouse sat back against a wall of tan bluffs and large pines. The house itself was probably still used in the spring, when huge flocks of sheep were herded up into the Absaroka and Beartooth wilderness to graze for the summer. But right now it sat closed up and empty.
Off to its right, a large once-red barn loomed out of the clouds, a black wide hole in the front where the double doors hung open. In the pitch blackness, something glittered dully. A bumper.
The bumper belonged to an ancient faded green International Harvester pickup. From the look of the cow manure and yellowed grass stuck to the tire wells, the truck had been used maybe as recently as early fall.
He watched Levi eye the pickup skeptically and him even more. He tried not to let it hurt his feelings as he popped the hood, hoping the rancher hadn’t taken out the battery for the winter. While looking a little corroded, the battery sat snugly in its corner, held in place with wire. He touched an end of wire between the two terminals and got a spark. They were in business.
Feeling lucky, he slammed the hood and swung around to the passenger side of the pickup to let Levi in. The door groaned as he dragged it open and offered her a seat. She looked cold. He hoped the heater worked.
Going around to the driver’s side, he shrugged out of the backpack, tossed it onto the seat and reached around the steering column, hoping to find the keys in the ignition. His luck wasn’t that good.
He could feel her dubious look as he lay down on his back on the floorboard under the steering column, the door open and his legs hanging out. He was glad for once that he’d picked up a few useful talents in his wayward youth.
As the engine rumbled to life, he shot Levi a glance, hoping to see grudging admiration in her face. Or at least a little respect.
Instead she gave him a look that said If you’re so smart, then why are people trying to kill you? Or maybe he was just thinking that himself.
He slid out of the truck, grousing at what a hard woman she was to impress, but before he could turn to get back in, he felt a boot connect hard with his butt. The unexpected momentum sent him sprawling headfirst onto the barn floor.
Behind him he heard the driver’s side door slam, the motor rev and the clutch pop. As the old truck roared backward out of the barn, he leaped to his feet and ran after it. Blamed woman!
She was frantically searching for first gear when he reached her side of the pickup. Just as he grabbed for the door handle, she slammed down the lock with her elbow. Damn her! She found first gear, popped the clutch again, but her inexperience driving on snow gave him a few seconds. He flung himself over the hood to the passenger side and jumped on the running board as the less-than-great rubber on the tires spun for a moment, then caught. He tried the door, not surprised to find it locked as well.
Clinging to the moving vehicle by the side mirror, he tapped on the glass. Levi glanced over at him. He mouthed the word stop. But she turned back to her driving, getting the pickup rolling along at a pretty good clip as she headed for the main road.
He held onto the mirror, quickly assessing the situation as he saw in the pickup’s headlights the row of low-limbed pine trees coming up on his side of the narrow road. He slammed an elbow against the side window. The window shuddered but didn’t break. He heard a shriek from inside the truck but she made no attempt to slow down. Big surprise.
Just as he’d figured, she drove close enough to the pines lining the driveway that the branches whipped him and did their best to knock him off the running board. This woman was starting to get to him.
Just past the last pine tree, she threw on the brakes. The change in momentum swung him around the mirror and smacked his hip into the fender, but he managed to get his feet back on the running board before she got the truck going again. She was getting better at driving on snow.
Tired of fooling with her, he elbowed the side window once more. This time the glass shattered, showering into the cab, bringing a satisfying oath from inside.
Quickly he reached in and pulled the door handle up. The door swung open and he leaped in, slamming it behind him before she had a chance to do anything more than shift gears.
He didn’t look at her. “Stop the truck.”
Not surprisingly, she didn’t jump to his quiet command. In fact, she didn’t even respond.
“Stop the truck now or so help me, Levi—”
She hit the brakes, almost putting him through the windshield. She flung open her door and jumped out at a run. He slid across the seat, slipping the truck into neutral to keep it from dying as it rolled to a stop, and went after her. In two long strides, he caught her by the collar of her coat.
“Are you crazy?” he demanded.
“I’m the one who should be asking you that,” she snapped, anger flashing in her eyes. Her breath came out frosty-white in the night. “I didn’t kidnap you.”
He let out a sigh. “If you could just let me get us to a phone, I could prove to you that I didn’t kidnap you.”
She mugged a face at him. “Why should I believe anything you tell me? You haven’t told me anything.”
“Excuse me. I’ve been a little busy trying to keep us alive.” She didn’t seem in the least appreciative and he wondered what it would take. “I told you my name.”
“Seth? Seth what?”
“Gantry.”
She raised a brow. “If Seth Gantry is even your name.”
“It is,” he replied indignantly.
They stood glaring at each other, breathing hard, eyeing each other with distrust. He could see doubt in her expression; she didn’t believe they were still in danger. Maybe she didn’t want to believe she’d ever been in danger—other than from him.
He tried to think of something he could say to gain her trust but gave up. He had to face it: she wasn’t going to go along with him anymore. At least not willingly. And he was in no mood to fight her.
“I hate to have to do this,” he said. Pulling the handcuffs from his coat pocket with one hand, he let go of her collar and grasped her right wrist.
She tried to struggle out of his hold. “You wouldn’t,” she said, giving him a haughty look when all else had failed.
“You’d be surprised what I’d do right now,” he muttered. He snapped one of the loops closed on her wrist. “You’re lucky I don’t take you over my knee.” He hauled her around to the passenger side. “Get in the truck.” She had the good sense not to cross him again. The moment she climbed in, he fastened the other loop to the seat frame.
From behind the pickup seat, he dug out a threadbare farm jacket and a chunk of old cardboard. He stuffed it into the broken side window as best he could, closed the door and went around to the driver’s side and slid in, only to find her searching through his backpack with her free left hand.
“The pistol isn’t in there,” he said. He closed the door and snatched the backpack from her before she decided to use the flashlight on him.
Once on the main road, a blacktopped two-lane, he headed north toward Big Timber, glad the low clouds and the darkness provided protective cover from any aircraft. Then the snow began to fall, large white flakes drifting lazily down, and he knew they stood a good chance of not being seen from the air. That still left the possibility of a roadblock though.
But he didn’t think that was likely since he didn’t believe the people after them were FBI or any other law enforcement group. Yet.
He felt better. But then he always felt better on the move—even when he had no idea where he was headed or what waited around the next bend.
“So what now?” Levi asked. “I assume you have a plan.”
He stared at the road. He couldn’t believe she expected him to devise an infallible plan while he was saving their lives, escaping killers and stealing wheels. “No reason to have a plan until you need one.”
“You don’t have the foggiest idea what you’re doing, do you?” she asked incredulously.
He glanced over at her. “I’m flying by the seat of my pants here. I’m sorry if you have a problem with that, princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, but all the fight seemed to have gone out of her.
He felt a wave of guilt and searched around for something to say. When words failed him, he got the heater going, pleased to hear it hum and even more happy when a little warm air spit from it. Maybe a bit of heat would help her.
He happened to catch his reflection in the rearview mirror. No wonder she’d thought he was the crazy one. Between the dried blood on his temple and the dark stubble of a day’s growth of beard on his chin and the look in his eyes, he appeared crazed. Hell, he was crazed. He always felt that way when someone was trying to kill him.
He turned his attention to the highway. Ahead, the new snow melted the moment it touched the pavement; fog rose like lost spirits in the headlights. Inside the pickup, even with only a coat and cardboard stuffed in the broken window, it was starting to warm up and it felt good.
“Don’t you think you ought to at least tell me what I’m doing here?” Levi asked in a no-nonsense tone.
This was a woman used to giving orders. Too bad he wasn’t in the habit of taking them.
When he didn’t answer immediately, she snapped, “Look, you got me into this. You kidnapped me or whatever you’d like to call it, almost got me killed and you didn’t even know who I was. The very least you owe me is an explanation.”
Whew. Warm this woman up and she was instantly on the fight again. He shook his head, grinning to himself. He liked that she wasn’t down for the count. Through it all, she’d stayed pretty cool. He had to hand it to her, he didn’t think he would have been as calm in the same situation. Hell, he didn’t feel all that calm right now.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/b-j-daniels-3/stolen-moments/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
B.J. Daniels
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
Отзывы: Пока нет Добавить отзыв
О книге: She needed protection for herself–and her baby…With ebony hair and bottomless eyes, Seth Gantry was the kind of man Olivia «Levi» McCord′s father warned her about–and the last man on earth she′d ever fall for. Especially after the sinewy cowboy kidnapped her.Seth claimed to be her bodyguard and that he needed to take her to a safe house. But when the Montana mountain cabin blows up, he becomes all that stands between Levi and an untimely death. Running for their lives and with no one to trust, Levi is at the mercy of the sexiest man she′d ever met. Suddenly she isn’t certain whether the real danger comes from the killer on her trail…or the virile cowboy who′s vowed to keep her alive.