Partners In Crime Part 3

Dear Reader,

In the town of Grand Springs, Colorado, a devastating summer storm sets off a string of events that changes the lives of the residents forever….

Welcome to Mills & Boon exciting new digital serial, 36 Hours! In this thirty-six part serial share the stories of the residents of Grand Springs, Colorado, in the wake of a deadly storm.

With the power knocked out and mudslides washing over the roads, the town is plunged into darkness and the residents are forced to face their biggest fears—and find love against all odds.

Each week features a new story written by a variety of bestselling authors like Susan Mallery and Sharon Sala. The stories are published in three segments, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and the first segment of every three-part book is free, so you can get caught up in the mystery and drama of Grand Springs. And you can get to know a new set of characters every week. You can read just one, but as the lives and stories of each intertwine in surprising ways, you’ll want to read them all!

Join Mills & Boon E every week as we bring you excitement, mystery, fun and romance in 36 Hours!

Happy reading!

About the Author

Alicia Scott is the award-winning author of thirteen romantic suspense novels, including Maggie’s Man, MacNamara’s Woman and Brandon’s Bride. In addition to winning an award for career achievement from RT Book Reviews, Alicia was also a finalist for a prestigious RITA® Award for best contemporary romance for MacNamara’s Woman. Living in New England with her family, Alicia now writes hard-edged suspense as Lisa Gardner. For more information on both careers, please visit www.lisagardner.com.

Partners in Crime Part 3

Alicia Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Even the weather forecasters didn’t predict how strong the spring storm would hit Grand Springs, Colorado. But it isn’t the physical damage that is wreaking havoc these days, it’s the murder of the mayor, Olivia Stuart. During the panic and chaos of those horrible 36 hours someone poisoned Olivia. The main suspect for Detective Jack Stryker was Josie Reynolds. All evidence pointed her way…planted evidence! Now on the run with Josie, Jack knows that this was a professional hit. The killer’s next victim: Josie. The hit woman is the best tracker he’s ever seen and she is zeroing in on their hiding spot…

Contents

Chapter Nine Continued

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Nine Continued

Jack Stryker felt Josie stiffen by degrees.

The hit woman drew out her fancy tranquilizer gun—it had been tucked into her utility belt at her trim waist. Her gaze swept the top of the mine, ensuring that she was not jumped from above.

Then her sharp eyes settled on the pile of boulders.

The hit woman stared and stared, and the tension rose unbearably. Quietly, soundlessly, he rocked Josie against him, trying to hold them both steady.

If the woman looked too closely. If she just saw the two footprints right before the boulders…

Josie’s fingers dug into his arm fierce enough to hurt. He didn’t make a sound.

The woman turned and stepped into the mine. In a matter of seconds, the mountain had swallowed her whole.

There was no time for indecision. Jack unfurled from Josie. He took her hand. Her cheeks were stained with fresh tears. Her lower lip bled where her teeth had taken their toll. He wiped the moisture from her cheek. He pressed his thumb against her lip.

Then, unable to help himself, he dipped his head and kissed her. Her arms tangled around him instantly. She clung to him as if he were the last bastion in a storm, and he clung to her just as hard. They kissed hard, they kissed sweet.

And it felt good to have her against him again. Good to hold her. Good to taste her.

He wanted to curl up with her in her bed right now. He wanted to drape her in red silk and roll with her on her feather mattress. He wanted to hold her a long, long time, and tell her with his touch how sorry he was that he’d ever doubted her.

And how much it had hurt him, too.

He brought his lips away gently, resting his forehead against hers because he couldn’t bear to lose all contact.

“Quietly,” he whispered, and she nodded back.

Like two thieves, they crept away from the mine, and this time, Josie stopped on her own so he could pick up another tree branch and wipe their passing from the earth.

Chapter Ten

Josie was shivering. She didn’t say anything, but he felt the uncontrollable shudders ricocheting up his arm. The sun was gone, and this high on the mountain, the wind was cold against their water-drenched clothes. They had to move painstakingly slow to cover their tracks, chilling muscles that had already been abused.

Jack figured they had about another hour to heat up before hypothermia and exposure set in. They were at least eight miles from Grand Springs—or four hours of hard hiking.

He veered them sharply up the mountain and heard Josie muffle a groan.

“Are we there yet?” she panted at last. “I’m sure this qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment. I’ll sic Edward Finnley on you.”

“At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

She paused long enough to glance over her shoulder. “I don’t see our guest. Think she’s lost in the mine?”

“Maybe for a bit. But if she’s smart at all, she’ll eventually head back out and give the ground another once-over.”

“You’ve covered our tracks.”

“At first glance, Josie. But an experienced tracker can read the signs of a tree branch raked over the ground. I don’t know. It will depend how good she is.”

Josie hesitated. “I think she’s good.”

“Me, too.”

They lapsed back into silence, forcing their tired muscles up the hill. After a bit, Jack pointed them to the left. “Over there.”

“Over there?”

“Another mine.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good. I know this one. It’s pretty stable—the man-made passages lead to a series of natural caves. A lot of the teenagers use it for spelunking.”

“Spelunking?”

“Exploring caves and canyons.”

“Oh, no. Bats.”

“Yeah, bats. And narrow crevices and long, dark tunnels without the light of day.”

“Can’t we just make a lean-to out of twigs?” she asked weakly.

Jack stopped walking at last. He took both of her hands in his. “I won’t lie to you, Josie. You’re not going to like it in there. But we’re not doing so well out here. Exposure will set in soon. We don’t have matches, we don’t have food, we don’t have a set of dry clothes. We’re too far from civilization for help. This is the best idea I have.”

“I know.”

“Will you follow me, will you do as I ask even when it’s going to scare you to death?”

She regarded him steadily. “I suppose I will.”

“Josie…I’m sorry. For everything, I’m sorry.”

“I know, Stryker. Maybe…maybe I even understand.” She shrugged halfheartedly, wanting to make things right as much as he did, but too tired and worn to sort through all the emotions that clutched at her chest. “Well, maybe someday we’ll look back on the whole thing and laugh.”

“Yeah, maybe. I just wanted you to know I was sorry…in case.”

She silenced him with her fingers over his lips. “Straight Arrow Stryker,” she whispered.

His lips, warm and soft, curved against her finger ruefully. “Still trying to hold all the pieces together,” he admitted quietly, filling in her unspoken thought. “I can’t help myself, Josie. I…I don’t want anything to happen to you. And I can’t help but feel like this whole thing is my fault. I should’ve listened to you—”

“You did. You checked out my house.”

“I should’ve trusted my instincts—”

“A cop can’t write instincts on an arrest form.”

“I should’ve been there for you, Josie. I shouldn’t have left you feeling all alone.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. But, news flash, Stryker: You’re not perfect. Another news flash—neither am I. Hmm, maybe that’s how we ended up handcuffed together racing through the mountains. It’s a thought.”

“Josie—”

“Come on, Stryker. We’re both chilled to the bone and who knows when Super Chick will appear again. Let’s walk, okay? Later, you can tell me how sorry you are. I’m thinking flowers, lots of tiger lilies. No, rare orchids. Hmm, maybe wildflowers, bluebells, daisies, sunflowers. No, no, peach roses. I want a lot of peach roses. And dinner, of course. Then we’ll move on to fine gems. Have I mentioned yet how much I like opals? I like fiery opals. Think about it, Stryker.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Josie nodded, satisfied, and turned back toward the rising mountain. The opening of the mine was barely visible from here. It gaped like the hole from a missing tooth in a monster’s gruesome smile.

Dark, stale, and most likely filled with bats.

Josie started walking, and Jack understood completely then why he was so enraptured with her. Not too many women would walk willingly into an abandoned mine. Not too many people could make him feel better about his own mistakes.

It made him want to kiss her again. Kiss her and hold her and wrap his arms so tightly around her nothing would harm her. She would always be safe. Because if something happened to her, his father was right—he would shoulder the burden of the failure, adding it to the load he already carried. He knew how to forgive everyone but himself, and he had never learned how to forget.

He followed her toward the mine. Behind them, the trees remained undisturbed.

* * *

“Fasten it here, and fasten it here. How’s that?” Jack pushed at the hard yellow mining hat experimentally, but it remained firmly attached to Josie’s head. He turned on the lantern bulb resting on her forehead, then found a hat for himself. The entrance to the mine held half a dozen miner’s caps. He figured on Friday night, they were all put to use, and he didn’t know whether to curse or praise the recklessness of the local teenagers.

He’d half hoped to find dry matches, a canteen of water or leftover snacks. No such luck. Only the hats were left at the mine.

He turned on his own light, illuminating the dark, dank tunnel. Oak beams held the hand-carved ceiling in place above them. Farther on, the sides turned to rock, still bearing the marks from the dynamite that had blasted the tunnel so many decades ago.

The tunnels had been mined out two decades ago, but they remained popular, particularly for serious explorers—or Boy Scouts who had read Tom Sawyer one too many times. When Jack had been a teenager, he’d spent an entire summer coming to know first the man-made tunnels, then the labyrinth of natural caves and canyons that formed catacombs inside the mountainside.

Here, he hoped to find the home court advantage at last. He finished adjusting his hat, took one last look at the gathering dusk, then turned to Josie.

“Ready?”

She looked the palest he’d ever seen her. “I don’t like dark places.”

“It’s stable.”

“It’s wet and cold.”

“It twists down below the water table.”

“Oh, goody, if it rains, we’ll drown.”

“Only if the water rises forty feet.”

Josie was still holding back. She finally wrenched away, unable to meet his eyes. “I really…I really don’t like closed-in places,” she whispered at last.

“You’re claustrophobic?” He tried to keep his voice patient, but felt a small thread of panic. The best path he knew was tough enough for experienced explorers, let alone a woman who suffered from claustrophobia.

“I have a healthy respect for oxygen and sunshine,” Josie hedged.

“Take my hand?” he suggested gently.

“I’m handcuffed to it, what else can I do?”

“I’ll get you through, Josie. I know these tunnels. I even have a plan.”

“A plan?”

“A plan.”

“When this is over,” Josie said weakly, “I want to take the longest vacation in history.”

“When this is over, Josie, I will personally take you to Montana and we will both stand in the middle of the fields and watch the sky spread out forever.”

“Is that a promise?”

“That’s a promise.”

He pulled down the last four mining hats from the makeshift pegs. He tossed them onto the ground and crushed their lightbulbs with his heel.

“All right,” he said firmly. “Now we go.”

* * *

The beginning wasn’t so bad. The mine was wide with old tracks running down the middle. Josie could walk beside Jack, holding his hand and watching the beams from their hats bob through the air. She decided she could handle it, and Jack had been right all along—this was the best way to escape.

But then the main tunnel ended. Jack took the right fork without hesitation. Then he took a left. Josie found herself struggling up steep slopes, then sliding down the other side. Dirt walls turned into narrow tunnels of stone, worn down from decades of wear. Loose rocks tumbled around them, bouncing off their hard hats.

Josie began to miss the light of day. Jack was beside her, steady and reassuring, but the thin yellow beams of their hats looked so feeble against the unending darkness. She felt the sides of the tunnel unbearably close. At times when they crawled, her head dragged against the ceiling while her hips brushed the side, and the only thing that kept her moving was Jack’s feet in front of her. If his large form could get through, then so could hers. They wound down deeper and deeper, making the walking easy on their lungs but hard on their knees. Josie had the impression that they were disappearing deep into the bowels of the earth, and she wasn’t so sure how they would get back out.

At last, they appeared in a small chamber, tall enough for them to stand, but wide enough only for six or seven people. It was pitch-black and filled with stale air.

“Now what?” There was a hint of desperation in her voice. She tried to rein it in because she had a feeling that if she gave in to the hysteria, there would be no going back.

“We go through the tunnel.”

“What tunnel?” Josie looked around. The idea of leaving this chamber appealed to her tremendously.

She felt a tug on her wrist and discovered Jack on his hands and knees. The beam of his hat illuminated what appeared to be a small indent in the wall.

“That tunnel.” He pointed at the crevice.

Josie shook her head. “That is not a tunnel.”

“Yes, it is. It’s just…a rather small one.”

“Stryker, a canary could not fit through that passage.”

Jack took a deep breath. Then she knew she was in trouble. “Josie, there are ten inches between the top of the tunnel and the bottom of this chamber. The human body can squeeze through a ten-inch height.”

She said the only thing she could think of. “My breasts aren’t that small.”

Her light illuminated Jack’s flashing smile. “Of course.” His tone grew somber. “I’ve passed through here before. It’s the Miner’s Squeeze and it’s tough. It’s three body-lengths long, and frankly, it will probably take us an hour.”

“An hour?”

“An hour. Inhaling expands your lungs and will fill the space, so take only small half breaths. When you exhale, releasing the pressure, push yourself forward with your toes. You’ll move forward an inch or two—”

“Oh God, Stryker, I would rather face poison darts any day of the week than that tunnel. Please…”

“Josie,” he said firmly. “On the other side is a huge cavern. You could host a football game or fly a kite in the damn thing. Unfortunately, Mother Nature has a habit of connecting really large caves with really tiny passageways. This is our only option. You can do it.”

Josie shut her eyes. What if she breathed in too deeply and got stuck? What if it got so narrow, she could no longer move? She would be pinned in the tunnel, trapped by thousands of tons of rock. She would starve to death, like a roach that had crawled into an insect trap and couldn’t get back out.

And Jack would get to starve with her, handcuffed to her wrist.

“I…I can’t. I just…can’t.”

Jack rose to his feet. His hands felt warm and firm as he settled them on her shoulders. “You’re going to do this and I’m going to help you.”

“What if part of it has collapsed? What if I get stuck?”

“You’re not going to get stuck.” Jack was taking off his waterlogged dress shoes. Next went his socks.

“What if you get stuck.”

“Josie, we’re going to make it. Both of us.” He took her hand, but she barely felt it. She was shaking now. She was frozen to the bone and dangerously close to full-fledged hysteria. The walls were already closing in on her. The logical part of her brain fought it. She’d never been prone to hysterics, she’d never succumbed to panic attacks. She was Josie Reynolds, practical, efficient and quick-thinking. Spunky, spunky, spunky.

She wrapped her arms around Jack’s waist and clung to him desperately.

His free arm folded around her. “Shh,” she heard him whisper. “It will be all right. It will be all right.”

He was stroking her cheek, then pulling twigs gently from her hair. His hands smoothed down her back, rubbing small circles, then folding around her waist. He rocked her against him and she pressed her face farther into him.

He smelled like soap and sweat and pine. He felt so lean and strong. She could feel his rib cage, hear the rhythm of his heart. And suddenly she wanted him so much. She wanted to kiss him and touch him and taste him. She wanted to rip off his clothes until his skin was hot and naked against her. She wanted to lose herself in him, to feel alive and safe, to have the darkness melt away. And she wanted him moving inside her. She wanted them looking into each other’s eyes, knowing they were as close as two people could be and thinking that it was absolutely right.

She loved Jack Stryker, for every stubborn, righteous, honorable bone in his body.

She pulled away and scrubbed furiously at her cheeks.

“All right, I’ll do it.”

Jack caught her chin. He tilted her head until she was forced to meet his steady blue gaze. She didn’t want to look him in the eye. She was afraid he’d see every emotion she felt and even more afraid that he wouldn’t. That this vulnerable, fragile, wonderful bond between them would be severed once more and send them both adrift.

That they would succumb to the tunnels without a chance to make everything right.

“Take it slow,” he said quietly. “You enter feet first and I’ll follow head first, with our handcuffed hands between us. We’ll be facing each other the whole time. Talk to me if you need to. But don’t panic, Josie. You absolutely, positively, cannot panic.”

“Okay.”

“Take small breaths and at regular intervals. You don’t need a lot of oxygen, just a steady supply.”

“I’ll take small breaths.”

She looked at the black indent once more. She looked at him and the wide breadth of his shoulders. She tasted the fear rising like bile in her throat.

“You’ll get through, right?” Her voice wasn’t steady.

His thumb ran down her cheek. “Of course.” He smiled one last time, but it was a somber expression. As she watched, his hand moved to his waist, and a minute later, he’d stripped off his pants. Next, he shrugged out of his jacket. It dangled on the handcuffs joining them. With two fierce tugs, he ripped it off. Then he discarded his tie and unbuttoned his white dress shirt that he left hanging on the cuffs between them.

He finally met her confused expression.

“You’ll fit okay,” he said quietly, “but the last time I did this, I was nineteen years old. I think I may have filled out an inch or two since then. Probably, there will come a time for me when the extra millimeters taken up by clothing will matter.”

“Jack…” She wanted to get the words out. She tried to get the words out. If something went wrong, she wanted it all said between them. She valued honesty as much as he did, and after life with her father, perhaps even more. But she couldn’t get the three syllables past her throat. She kept choking on the tears.

“Come on, Josie. Let’s do this.”

He pulled her down to the floor. She flattened onto her stomach, the light from her hard hat stabbing at the narrow crawl space. With her head up, she would never fit. She reached in her hand and tried to memorize the space by touch. It was unyielding, craggy and tight. She turned around and looking in Jack Stryker’s eyes, she stuck her feet into the crevice and began.

And the darkness closed around her, squeezing her chest like a vise.

* * *

She went slow. She took small breaths. When she inhaled too deeply, her rib cage pressed against the stone floor and her shoulder blades squeezed against the ceiling. The uneven rocks cut her cheek and gouged her skin. Her toes searched for leverage to pull while her hands fought for handholds to push. The only sound was her thin cotton prisoner’s suit slithering over rock.

In front of her, Jack entered the tunnel, his bare shoulders hunching to thrust into the narrow space. His skin raked along the harsh stone walls and she saw him wince. She sought out the next foothold, found a sharp edge and tried to recoil. Her knee slammed against an outcropping rock. She bit her tongue and felt her lower leg go numb right before exploding with white hot pain.

“Easy,” Jack whispered.

She kept wriggling along and tried not to cry as her light illuminated the long, thin welts of blood being etched onto Jack’s skin. Minute lapsed into silent minute. Progress was slow, halting, excruciating. Her foot was on fire. Her hands were scratched. Her chest was beginning to burn. She kept moving, having no idea whether she was close to the end or not. The lack of light, air, and sound disoriented her, while the whole mountain pressed in on her. For one moment, she tried to push forward and couldn’t. She was stuck. She was trapped.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. She wanted to go home.

Jack’s hand curled around her wrist. His fingers rubbed her hand in wordless encouragement. She felt tears trickle down her cheek, but they were soundless.

She struggled to push herself forward. Her palm was slippery. Probably with blood.

She lost her grip on the protruding stone and had to find another source of leverage. She still only moved an inch. Experimentally, she raised her leg. She almost immediately hit the ceiling. The tunnel was getting narrower.

She froze. She wouldn’t fit. The tunnel was worse than the birthing canal, and this time around, there was no doctor to perform a cesarean. She wanted to go back. Definitely, definitely, it was time to go back.