by Cindi Myers
She shook her head. If Brodie went in there, Alex would kill him. He had the rifle, and a knife, and then there were the explosives everywhere on the mountain. How could she warn Brodie without Alex overhearing? She picked up the sign and rubbed out the message there with the sleeve of her sweater, then wrote, HE HAS EXPLOSIVES ALL OVER THE MOUNTAIN. WILL DETONATE.
Brodie read the message and nodded. Then his eyes met hers, and the determination and, yes, love in that single glance made her almost giddy. Then he was gone, around the back of the shack once more.
Emily shoved to her feet. She couldn’t sit here, not knowing what was happening with Brodie and Alex. She followed Brodie around the back of the shack, floundering through the thick snow, which covered the sound of her approach. At the door of the shack he stopped, weapon raised, then burst inside.
She braced herself for the blast of gunfire or the sounds of a struggle, but only ringing silence followed. Cautiously, she moved forward, until she was just outside the open door. “What’s happening?” she called.
“He isn’t here,” Brodie called. He stood over the table, examining the items scattered across it. “He must have slipped out while I was with you.”
“A very good deduction,” Alex said as he grabbed Emily from behind and put a knife to her throat.
This can’t be happening, Emily thought, as Alex crushed her against him. The knife bit into her throat, but she scarcely felt it, as if her body was becoming immune to pain.
“Let her go,” Brodie said, his gun leveled at Alex.
“Drop the gun or she dies now.” Alex pulled her more tightly against him, so that she could hardly breathe, her body angled so that she was between his legs, one hand almost resting on his groin.
Brodie tossed the gun aside. It sank out of sight in the snow. “What now?” he asked.
“That’s right,” Alex said. “I’m calling the shots.”
Emily gripped the dry-erase marker in her hand. As weapons went, it was pathetic. But it was all she had. Several years before, when she was an undergrad, she had attended a presentation on self-defense. All she could remember was the instructor’s advice to use whatever was at hand as a weapon. Most of the feeling had returned to her fingers. She made a fist around the marker, then drove it as hard as she could into Alex’s groin.
The knife slid across her throat, but she was able to shove out of Alex’s grasp as he doubled over. Brodie jumped on him and the two grappled in the snow. Emily knelt by the shack, watching in horror as blood stippled the pristine surface of the snow with red.
The two men rolled over and over in the snow, first Brodie on top, then Alex. With a cry of rage, Alex heaved Brodie off him and jumped to his feet. Then he was running, headed for the cliff. He began to climb, clambering up the steep slope without aid of harness or ropes or even gloves.
Brodie knelt beside Emily. “It’s bleeding a lot, but I don’t think the cuts are too deep,” he said. He stripped out of his jacket, peeled off his sweater and wrapped it around her neck.
“There’s a rifle in the shack,” she said through chattering teeth. “You need to get it and go after him.”
“It’s okay,” he said, one arm wrapped around her. “Nate and another man are waiting at the top of the cliff. He won’t get away from them.”
They stared as Alex scaled the cliff, swarming up the rock face. Emily gasped as he slipped, then regained his foothold. “He’s going too fast,” Brodie said. “He’s being reckless.”
He was almost to the top, where the rock jutted out and he had to pull himself over it. He had almost made it when something at the top caught his attention. “It’s Nate,” Brodie said. “He’s got him covered.”
A rope dropped over the edge of the cliff and dangled beside Alex. “Nate will pull him up and arrest him,” Brodie said.
But Alex didn’t take the rope. Instead, he looked back over his shoulder. He took one hand from the rock and balanced for a second, before releasing the other hand and falling backward.
Emily buried her face in Brodie’s shoulder. Alex’s cries echoed around them, then all fell silent. “Is he dead?” she asked.
“If he isn’t, he’s badly hurt.” He stood. “Gage is sending a couple of snowmobiles down to get us. Let’s go meet them.”
“Can we sit here a little bit, until they get here?” she asked.
“Are you too weak to walk?” His voice rose in alarm. “Do you want me to carry you?”
“No, I don’t want you to carry me.” The idea made her want to laugh.
“What’s so funny?.”
“I’m wondering if there’s a statute of limitations on proposals.”
He hesitated, then said. “What do you mean?”
She pressed her palms to his chest, over his heart, and looked into his eyes. “I mean, I don’t want you to carry me. But I might want you to marry me.”
“Because I scaled a cliff and faced death to save you?”
“Because you did those things. And because I love you. More than I was willing to admit before.”
“Why weren’t you willing to admit it?”
“Are you always so full of questions?”
“I want to be sure you’re not out of your mind from loss of blood.”
“I turned down your proposal before because I was afraid of what I would have to give up if we married,” she said. “Now I’m old enough to see that marriage isn’t about giving things up—it’s about gaining a partner who can help you get even more out of life.”
He gently brushed her hair back from her face and looked into her eyes. “Emily Walker, will you marry me?” he asked.
Tears—of relief, and such joy she could hardly contain it—flooded her eyes and she pressed her lips to his.
The roar of an approaching snowmobile interrupted their kiss. Two more snowmobiles followed. They stopped nearby and Gage pulled off his helmet. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Emily’s wounded,” Brodie said. “I’m fine.” He looked toward the cliff. “Alex is either dead or wounded.”
The man on the second snowmobile collected a medical kit from the back of the machine and started through the snow toward the cliff. The driver of the third snowmobile, a woman, approached Emily. “Let’s take a look,” she said, and began to unwind Brodie’s sweater. She surveyed the wound. “It’s mostly stopped bleeding. You might need a few stitches and you might be more comfortable wearing scarves for a while, but in a year or two I’ll bet the scar hardly shows.”
“I’ll take a scar over the alternative,” she said.
“I’ll just get you cleaned up a bit,” the woman said, and opened her medical kit.
The other paramedic returned, shaking his head. “That one doesn’t need me anymore,” he said.
Emily tried to feel some sympathy or sorrow for the man Alex might have been—handsome, smart, with every advantage. But she felt only emptiness. She didn’t have it in her to hate someone so twisted, but she could admit she was relieved he would never terrorize anyone else again.
The paramedic helped her to the snowmobile and assisted her in climbing on. Brodie rode behind Gage. They were at the top again before Emily remembered one of the most important questions of the day. She looked at Gage. “Where is Travis?”
Gage checked his watch. “I hope he’s getting married about now.”
“But you’re the best man,” she said. “And I’m one of the bridesmaids.”
“I think they can finish the ceremony without us,” Gage said.
“He’s going to be furious when he finds out what happened,” Emily said.
“He is. But he’ll get over it.”
“Get over what?”
They turned to see Travis, a leather duster pulled on over his tux, striding toward them. Lacy, a down parka over her wedding dress, and the rest of the wedding party trailed beh
ind. “What are you doing here?” Gage demanded.
“I came to see this case to the finish.” He turned to Emily. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine.” At least, she would be, given time to rest and heal.
Travis nodded and turned back to Gage. “Alex?”
“He’s dead.”
“He jumped off the cliff, rather than face arrest,” Brodie said.
“It’s over,” Emily said, the impact just beginning to hit her. “It’s really over.”
“It is.” Gage put one arm around his brother. “You can leave the mop-up to us. Now you can get on with the honeymoon.”
“We have to get married first,” Lacy said.
“You’re not married yet?” Emily asked.
“We couldn’t get married with most of the wedding party—and some of the guests—up here on the pass,” she said.
“You all weren’t coming to the wedding, so we decided to bring the wedding to you,” Bette said. She indicated everyone around them. “We’re all here, but it’s a little chilly, so let’s get going, why don’t we?”
Emily put a hand to her throat. “But I’m not dressed for a wedding.”
“No one is looking at you.” Bette handed her a bouquet. “Now hold this, stand over there. Lacy, you stand here.”
Bette arranged everyone, and within five minutes Emily was blinking back tears as her eldest brother and her dear friend promised to love, honor and cherish each other for the rest of their lives. The officiant pronounced them husband and wife and they kissed as a tinny rendition of the Wedding March—courtesy of someone’s phone—serenaded them.
“Now everyone come back to the reception,” Bette said. Gage started to object, but she held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say. You have a crime scene to process. I’ll send refreshments back to you.”
“If it’s all right with you, I’ll stay with Emily,” Brodie said.
“You do that,” Travis said. “I think I can trust you to take good care of her this time.”
“This time, and for every time to come,” he said.
The others piled into their vehicles and drove away, Travis and Lacy in a white pickup truck with tin cans tied to the back and Just Married scrawled across the back window. Then Brodie walked Emily to the ambulance and climbed in after her. “I don’t think you ever gave me an answer to my proposal,” he said, taking her hand.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
He held her gaze, steady and sure. “I never want to hold you back from your dreams,” he said. “I only want to be part of them.”
“You are.” She kissed him, a sweet meeting of their lips full of promise and hope and all things she was determined to never give up again.
* * *
Don’t miss the previous books in Cindi Myers’s Eagle Mountain Murder Mystery:
Winter Storm Wedding miniseries:
Ice Cold Killer
Snowbound Suspicion
Cold Conspiracy
Available now from Harlequin Intrigue!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Warning Shot by Jenna Kernan.
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Intrigue story.
You crave excitement! Harlequin Intrigue stories deal in serious romantic suspense, keeping you on the edge of your seat as resourceful, true-to-life women and strong, fearless men fight for survival.
Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Intrigue every month!
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Warning Shot
by Jenna Kernan
Chapter One
Homeland Security Agent Rylee Hockings paused on the way into the sheriff’s office at the foul language booming from the side of the building. The deep baritone voice continued in a colorful string of obscenities that made her think the speaker had been in some branch of the armed services.
A military brat herself, she had heard her fair share of cussing during her formative years while being dragged from one base to another, Kyoto to Hawaii to Germany and back to Hawaii. The youngest of six, she had the distinction of being the only one of her family not to join the US Marines. Some of the military upbringing had worn off on her because she still believed that one was judged on performance. It was one of many reasons she planned to kill this assignment and show her supervisor she had what it took to be a field operative.
It was just past noon on Labor Day. Because of the federal holiday, she had not expected to find the sheriff in his office, but stopped as a courtesy. The second day of September and sunny, but the sunshine did not warm this frozen block of a county in upstate New York. Here it already felt like November. The leaves were pretty. Already at peak leaf-peeping season.
She rounded the building and found a tall man with strands of honey-blond hair falling over his flushed face as he jammed a coat hanger in the slot between the weather stripping and the driver’s side window of the vehicle before him.
The vehicle was a white SUV and on the side panel in gold paint was the county seal and the word Sheriff.
The man had his back to her and he had not heard her approach due to the swearing and stomping of his feet on the frozen ground. His breath showed in the blast of cold air. The collar of his jacket was turned up against the chill. His distraction gave her a moment to admire an unobstructed view of one of the nicest looking butts she had seen in some time. His uniform slacks were just tight enough and his posterior just muscular enough to keep her interest for a little too long. He wore a brown nylon jacket, heavily padded and flapping at his sides as he threw the coat hanger to the ground.
“Unsat,” she said, using the US Marine jargon for unsatisfactory.
He whirled and met her gaze by pinning her with eyes so blue they should have belonged to a husky. Her smile dropped with her stomach. Straight nose, square chin and a sensual mouth, the guy was the complete package, and then he opened his mouth.
“Sneaking up on a sheriff is a bad idea.”
“As bad as locking your keys inside?” She squinted her eyes and dragged her sunglasses down her nose. “I could have had an entire unit with me, and you wouldn’t have heard.”
He stooped to retrieve his twisted coat hanger, snatching it from the ground with long elegant fingers.
“FUBAR,” she said.
“You in the Corps?” he asked, referring to the US Marine Corps.
“My father, two brothers and a sister.” She motioned to the sheriff’s vehicle. “No spare?”
“Lost them,” he admitted.
“Why not use a Slim Jim?”
He scowled and thumbed over his shoulder. “It’s in the back.”
She wished she’d checked into the background of the sheriff of Onutake County before this meeting, but time had been limited. Knowing what he looked like would have been helpful right about now. For all she knew, this guy was a car thief.
She made a note to do some background checking as soon as she found a moment.
“You Sheriff Trace?”
“Who’s asking?”
“Rylee Hockings, Department of Homeland Security.” She retrieved her business card case from her blazer and offered him a card, leaning forward instead of stepping closer. There was something other than his vocabulary that urged her to keep her distance. She listened to that voice instead of the one that wondered if he were single. But her traitorous eyes dropped to his bare hands and the left one, which held no wedding band.
He nodded, not looking at her card.
“Didn’t expect to find you on the jo
b today, Sheriff.”
“More calls on weekends and holidays. Just the way of the world.”
He’d have trouble responding without his car, she thought.
“What can I do you for?”
“Just an introduction. Courtesy visit.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, his expression turning skeptical. “So, you plan on treating me like I’m still a marine?”
“Excuse me?”
“Muscles are required, intelligence not essential,” he said, choosing one of the tired jokes members of the army often leveled at the marines.
“So you were army, then.” She knew that much from the jibe toward her family’s branch of the military.
“Once.” He smiled and her heart jumped as if hit with a jolt of electricity. The smile and those eyes and jaw and, holy smokes, she was in trouble. She forced a scowl.
“You know, you should always run a check of your equipment before you lock up.”
“You a newbie, reading manuals, going by the book?”
She was and the assumption was insulting.
“Why do you ask?”
“You still have that new car smell.”
Her scowl was no longer forced. What did that even mean? “I’m not the one locked out of my unit.”
“It isn’t even locked. The alarm is just on and I didn’t want to set it off again.”
Again. How often did he do this? she wondered. “I’ll be doing some investigating in your county.”
“What kind of investigating?”
She smiled. “Nice to meet you, Sheriff.”
“You want an escort?”
“From a sheriff careless enough to leave his keys and—” she glanced through the windshield to verify her suspicion “—his phone in his unit? Thank you but I’ll manage.”
She turned to go. New car smell. She growled and marched away.