Читать книгу Snowed In - Cassie Miles, Cassie Miles - Страница 9

Chapter Three

Blake looked beyond Sarah’s shoulder to the darkness at the top of the staircase. Since the doors to the outside remained locked and the windows intact, he doubted that he’d find any intruders hiding in the second-floor bedrooms. A greater potential for trouble came from the woman blocking his way. She didn’t appear to be scared, but the pink blush on her cheeks betrayed a high level of emotion. She was angry. And he didn’t blame her. Asking her to remain calm in the face of potential death threats was a lot. She loved this B and B and wouldn’t want to see it turned into a battlefield.

“You should have told me.” Her chin jutted out. “As soon as you arrived, you should have told me about the danger.”

“I didn’t know how serious it was.” Not a valid excuse. “But you’re right. You should have been informed.”

“Who’s making these threats?”

“We don’t know.” He glanced at his G-Shock wristwatch. Kovak had promised to be here in half an hour. Blake had given him the license plate number on the van, and there might still be a chance to catch the four men in ski masks. “I should make a sweep of the upstairs before—”

“Whoa.” She braced the baseball bat in front of her chest. “You’re not going anywhere until you explain. Why is the general being threatened? Are we talking about terrorists?”

As a ranger, Blake had been trained in how to do an interrogation and how to withstand questioning. He could stonewall with the best of them, but those tactics didn’t apply to a conversation with a pretty innkeeper. He and Sarah were on the same side.

“I’ll be as truthful as I can,” he said.

“That’d be a change of pace.”

“What? I haven’t lied.”

“But you haven’t told me everything.”

“There wasn’t much to tell. The threats haven’t gone beyond the level of harassment. The general had his home office ransacked and his computer hacked. There was a bullet hole in one of his vehicles. He’s been getting hate mail. It started when he was put in charge of a budget committee deciding which military bases and which hospitals will have their funding cut.”

“A budget committee?” She sounded shocked. “These threats are about funding?”

“Everything in D.C. eventually comes around to money.”

“It’s so petty.”

“But still dangerous. Homegrown assassins can be just as lethal as machete-wielding terrorists.”

“But not those guys in the clearing,” she said. “You didn’t have much of a problem dealing with them.”

Though he would have preferred coming off as a superhero who had handily defeated a team of highly trained hit men, her assessment was correct. “They weren’t pros.”

“Are you going after them?”

“When Kovak gets here, I’m going to try.”

Standing on the staircase, she frowned as she tapped the head of the baseball bat against her palm. With her honey-colored hair curling in disarray and her parka open to show pink cherubs with round bottoms flying across her flannel pajamas, she should have looked ridiculous. But her erect posture gave her a certain dignity, and her dark eyes were serious.

“Go ahead and do what you need to do,” she said.

“Are you giving the orders?”

“When it comes to my property, I am.” Again, her sharp, little chin lifted in challenge. “You take care of the bad guys. I’ll make sure that Emily and I are safe.”

“How are you planning to do that?”

“Reinforcements,” she said. “I’m going to call the Reuben twins to patrol the house and grounds. Both of these young men can shoot the fangs off a rattlesnake at a hundred yards.”

“Are they reliable?”

“They’ve worked for me since they were fifteen. In addition to chopping wood and handyman repairs, they know how to make a bed and prepare a proper table setting.”

He nodded his approval. “Make your call.”

“Actually, the twins will be happy to meet you. Their family’s hardware store hasn’t been doing well, and the boys have been talking about enlisting.”

Blake probably wasn’t the best person to act as an army recruiter. At age thirty-five, he was on the verge of retirement and had just one last tour of duty in about six months. Though he’d dedicated his life to the military, he’d had enough of war. “Do you mind stepping aside so I can search upstairs?”

She leaned her back against the wall beside the staircase. “Knock yourself out.”

As he climbed the stairs, he brushed past her and caught a whiff of a cinnamon scent, maybe her shampoo. A spicy fragrance suited her. In many ways, she reminded him of the strong, decisive women he served with.

The staircase bisected the upstairs hallway, and the carved wood bannister extended to his left in a balcony that looked down over a two-story view of the entryway. This open area was probably meant as a staging place for guests hauling their suitcases upstairs, but it made a perfect spot for a spy to quietly hide and observe the comings and goings at the B and B.

Earlier tonight, when he’d taken his secret tour of the house, Blake had gotten a sense of protectiveness and security. The eight bedrooms on the second floor could be easily defended. They were inaccessible except by the central staircase and a narrow stairway at the south end that communicated with the kitchen and went down into the basement. As far as he could tell, all the windows had been upgraded to triple pane, a thickness that not only kept in the warmth but made the glass almost bulletproof. The doors were heavy and well fitted. Jeremy had been accurate when he compared this place to a modern-day fortress.

Blake checked the bedrooms one by one, looking in the closets, poking in the corners and peeking under the beds. The furniture was sturdy pine, polished to a high gleam. And the rest of the decor was simple—as clean as the West Point cadet barracks but not as spartan. In addition to a breakfast menu and a map of the local trails, every room had a hint of nature—simple things, like a basket of pinecones or a Christmas cactus or a rock garden. He imagined Sarah planning these subtle touches that made her B and B feel welcoming and warm. He liked Bentley’s Bed-and-Breakfast and hoped the wedding could be held here in spite of the attack in the clearing. This location was preferable to a hotel, where he wouldn’t have as much control.

The third floor was a long, open room that extended all the way to the sloping eaves on one side. On the opposite side was a row of single beds against a pine wall that probably had storage behind it—a good hiding place with access through a padlocked door. Since the lock showed no sign of tampering, he felt satisfied that the area was secure.

Back on the second floor, he paused by the banister and looked down into the entryway where the two women were talking. Emily paced in an agitated dance. Her blond curls bounced in rhythm with her high-pitched voice as she waved her cell phone and ranted, “I can’t believe Jeremy suggested that we have the wedding somewhere else. Or that we postpone. Getting everybody’s schedule lined up was impossible.” Her tone shot up to a screech. “Impossible.”

Blake took a step back so he couldn’t be seen. Confronting that blonde maelstrom was akin to a suicide mission.

“Calm down,” Sarah said in her soothing alto. “Jeremy was just worried about you.”

“This was exactly the wedding I wanted. And so did Jeremy. We never planned on a three-hundred-person fancy ceremony where we didn’t know half the guests. Just family, just a nice cake and a few flowers on Valentine’s Day, that’s all I wanted.”

“And that’s what you’ll have,” Sarah promised. She’d changed out of her pajamas and parka to a pair of well-worn jeans and an oversize olive-green sweater with drooping sleeves that she’d pushed up on her slender wrists. She raked her fingers through her shining hair. Those vivid blond curls with the red highlights were the first thing Blake had noticed when they met. Then he’d been captivated by the intensity in her eyes with irises so dark that they were almost black.

“We should have eloped,” Emily wailed. “Run off to Vegas and gotten married.”

“You could still do that.”

“I’m not going to take my vows in front of a fake Elvis.” Emily stamped her little foot. “What does Blake say? It’d make a difference if he said we should do the ceremony here. Please talk to him, Sarah.”

“Why would that make a difference?”

“Please.”

Through the front windows, he saw the flashing lights of a police cruiser. Kovak had made good time in getting here. With any luck, he and the deputy could track down the men from the drilling site. Blake rushed down the staircase and opened the door. Two other officers accompanied Kovak. At a glance, Blake could tell that these were the kind of men he was accustomed to working with. They all wore Kevlar vests and police utility belts.

As soon as they entered, a truck pulled up and parked. Two husky young men bounded onto the porch—the Reuben twins. In their jeans, boots and parkas, they were a perfectly matched set with shaggy brown hair, stubble and toothy grins. Though the boys were doing their best to act cool, they quivered with excitement when they saw the bulletproof vests. Sarah pulled them aside to explain the situation.

Blake turned to Kovak. “Were you able to trace the license plate on the van?”

“The vehicle belongs to Tyler Farley.” He spoke with a slow Western drawl. “Farley and his pals are known hell-raisers but I wouldn’t have pegged them as assassins.”

“Why not?”

“Too many beers. Too few brains.”

As Blake had thought, Farley and his friends weren’t pros. They hadn’t even been clever enough to disguise their license plate. “Do they live nearby?”

“They’ve got a cabin about twenty minutes from here,” Kovak said. “I already sent one of my men to keep an eye on the place. And I’ve alerted the local hospitals and emergency clinics. They’ll call me if anybody shows up with a gunshot wound.”

“Contact your man. See if he’s close.”

While Kovak made his call, Blake considered the possibilities. Farley must have been hired to pull off that stunt at the drill site. If they arrested him and his pals, Blake was sure he could convince these backwoods bad guys to give up the name of the person they were working for. The dangerous complication came from their possession of a semiautomatic assault rifle that probably had an illegal magazine capacity under Colorado’s current gun laws.

Kovak held up his cell phone. “My man is there. The van is parked out front, and all the lights in the cabin are on.”

“Tell him not to engage until we get there,” Blake said. “If they leave, he should follow.”

“Yes, sir,” Kovak said. “I’m thinking we can bring these boys in without firing a single shot.”

Blake was glad to hear they were on the same page. As soon as Kovak finished his call, he said, “Let’s move. You take your car, and I’ll follow.”

A flash of strawberry-blond hair zoomed up beside him. “I’ll ride with you.”

Though she had a rifle in her hand, he wasn’t about to let Sarah ride shotgun. “We had an agreement,” he reminded her. “You stay safe, and I—”

“I promise not to get in the way.” She looked toward Kovak. “Do you care if I tag along?”

“Always glad to have your help, Sarah.”

Blake tried one more time to dissuade her. “You can’t leave Emily here alone.”

“I trust the twins to keep her safe. They’re spending the night.”

She dangled Blake’s car keys from her fingers. “Should I drive?”

Without a word, Blake took the keys and headed for the door. He could think of only one reason Sarah would leave her beloved B and B to go after the bad guys: she wanted to talk to him about the wedding. Cake orders and flower arrangements were the last thing on his mind.

When he pulled away from the house, she fastened her seat belt and asked, “Have you talked to Jeremy yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Good, because when you do I hope you’ll tell him that the wedding plans shouldn’t be changed. Emily has her heart set on this ceremony.”

“My decision about where the wedding should be held will be based on risk assessment,” he said coldly. “Protecting the general is my number one priority.”

“But you’re also the best man,” she said. “That means it’s your job to make sure the bride and groom are both happy.”

“Don’t tell me my job.”

“For the bachelor party, are you planning to have a stripper? There’s a tavern in Carbondale where they have a lot of stag parties, and you might want to check with them.”

This was one relentlessly bossy female. He muttered, “I can find my own stripper.”

“I bet you can. And I wonder what’s your favorite type, the French maid or the naughty schoolgirl? Wait, I know. You’re a dominatrix man.”

“Are you volunteering?”

“I have my very own riding crop.”

If she was trying to distract him, she’d succeeded. Though he kept his focus on Kovak’s taillights, Blake’s mind had wandered far away, visualizing long legs in fishnet stockings and a tight leather vest crisscrossing Sarah’s breasts. His vision was an act of pure imagination. He hadn’t seen enough of her body to know what she’d look like naked.

He yanked his thoughts back to the present situation. They were driving toward a potentially dangerous confrontation. He needed to have his wits about him. “Jumping in the car with me was a mistake, Sarah. A big mistake. I’d call it a third strike.”

“What do you mean?”

“You disobeyed my order to drive into town. That was strike one. You followed me into the B and B, that’s two. Then you sashayed out the door and into that passenger seat.”

“I never sashay,” she said.

According to his imagined version of her, the sashay was only one of her moves. He cleared his throat. “I need your cooperation. When we get to Farley’s cabin, you stay in the car. Got it?”

She nodded. “And when it’s time to talk to Jeremy, what are you going to tell him?”

“I like your B and B as a location for the wedding. The house is secure and easily defensible. The location makes it difficult for anybody to sneak up on us. However, if there’s a clear danger, we’ll have to change plans.”

“I really hope that doesn’t happen.”

On the road ahead of him, Kovak cut his lights and parked. Blake did the same. Before he left the car, he said, “Stay here, Sarah.”

As she leaned across the seat and touched his arm, a glimmer of starlight touched her face. Her lips parted as though blowing a kiss. “Be careful.”

She could look real sweet when she wanted to, but he wasn’t fooled by her petal-soft lips and her long eyelashes. She was tough, determined and—like him—usually got her way.

He joined Kovak and his men. With a minimum of discussion, they had a plan. The officers would deploy around the front and rear of the one-story cabin while Blake went onto the porch beside the front door. Kovak would negotiate. Hopefully, Farley and his men would surrender without a fight.

Moving quickly, they got into position. Blake flattened his back against the wall between the front door and a window. He wanted to be close in case the guy with the assault rifle took it into his head to come out firing.

Kovak yelled, “Tyler Farley, this is Deputy David Kovak. We have your cabin surrounded. Farley, we know you’re in there.”

From the window to Blake’s right, he heard a shout. “What do you want, Deputy?”

“Throw out your weapons. Raise your arms and come out one by one.”

“Can’t do that. One of my men can’t walk.”

“Drag him out,” Kovak yelled.

Inside the cabin, they were arguing. Blake couldn’t make out the words but knew from the tone that they disagreed. He suspected that the wounded men were ready to give up. The others might want to make a stand.

“Let’s go,” Kovak yelled. “You’ve got five seconds.”

Blake silently cringed. If he’d been negotiating the surrender, he wouldn’t have issued that ultimatum so quickly. Farley needed a minute to understand that it was to his benefit to cooperate.

“Hands up. Weapons down.” Kovak started his countdown. “One...two...”

Beside Blake, the door swung inward. The guy who charged through and stood on the porch was still wearing his ski mask and held his assault rifle in one hand. He didn’t notice Blake standing just behind him. Though the weapon was pointed down, his finger was on the trigger.

“Drop the weapon,” Kovak yelled.

Red dots of light from the rifle sights of Kovak and another officer danced on the chest of the masked man. He didn’t have a chance. Before he could lift his rifle, he’d be shot. The smart decision would be for him to surrender, but Blake guessed that this guy was operating more on impulse than intelligence.

In a well-practiced move, he knocked the masked man off his feet and onto his belly, facedown in the crusted snow. Blake took the rifle away from him and threw it aside. Straddling the other man’s back, he aimed his handgun toward the house. “The rest of you, get out here.”

Two others, unmasked, came onto the porch. One of them had a clumsy dressing on his upper arm. His face contorted in pain. “I need a doctor.”

“Where’s the fourth guy?”

“He can’t walk.”

Kovak and the other officers rushed forward. In seconds, they had taken Farley’s ragtag crew into custody. While one of the sheriff’s department’s SUVs drove the wounded men to receive treatment, Kovak and Blake questioned Farley.

Blake sat beside the handcuffed man in the back of Kovak’s police cruiser. “Who hired you?”

“I don’t know his name.” Tyler Farley was a skinny guy with bad teeth. The permanent scowl etched into the lines of his thin face made it difficult to guess his age. “He told us it was a joke.”

“How did he contact you?”

“On my cell phone.” Spittle appeared in the corners of his downturned mouth. “He paid me three thousand bucks up front. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”

Blake didn’t believe Farley was foolish enough to think their stunt at the drilling site was innocent. “What were you supposed to do?”

“Grab the girl. Emily Layton.”

Kidnapping Emily could be leveraged into a threat against the general. “Then what?”

“When we had her, we’d make a call. The guy would tell us where to bring her, and he’d give us the rest of our money.”

“Have you made that call?”

“Not yet.”

Blake checked his wristwatch. Though a lot had happened, it had been less than two hours since he surprised Farley and his boys in the clearing. If he was going to get his hands on the person who hired Farley, he had to move fast.