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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
“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.
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