Killer Bunny Hill

by Denise Robbins

  There it was.

  Shining the light on the wall to his left, Max rubbed his hand against the rough rock wall, and as he did, the glitter that caught his eyes came loose. In the palm of his hand, he held one of those square diamonds. Using the flashlight, he searched for more, for anything else. He ran his palm against the spot again and noticed that the rock where he found the diamond didn’t appear as dirty as the others. He pushed on it.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” It never dawned on him there could be another tunnel, but it made sense. The Underground Railroad consisted of a network of tunnels.

  Max flashed the light through the opening that slid open when he pressed on the rock. The beam didn’t seem to hit an end to the tunnel. This had to be what Kevin wanted him to find. Did Mickey know about this second passageway? No, he decided, if Mickey had known he would have said something.

  After verifying his Glock was set, he ducked through the new opening and into an even tighter cavern than the one he just left. Standing to his full height, Max reached out and swiped a couple of cobwebs from his face. As he walked, his feet stirred loose dirt from the floor. Obviously, the passageway had not been used as often as the other.

  The further he went the darker it became and the colder it got. An icy breeze swept across his neck, rustled the tiny hairs and sent a chill up his spine. He stopped, regarded his surroundings. “Where the hell did the tunnel end?”

  Just as he voiced the question, he came to a turn. Peering around the corner, his flashlight penetrated the inky black. He contemplated turning back, but his nagging curiosity wouldn’t let him. Shoving his hand into his pocket, he found the square diamond. As he continued the dusty trek down the next corridor, Max caressed the stone between his thumb and forefinger, over and over like one would a talisman in prayer.

  Down the long cavern hung old oil lanterns from the makeshift walls, covered by dirt and cobwebs. For a second Max stood and stared at antique metal and glass, awed by the piece of history. When he shifted his attention back to the corridor, something ahead of him flickered against the shine of his light. He squinted, tried to make out its shape, but failed. Approaching what he now made out to be a ladder, a muffled noise came from above him. The wooden ladder was the end of his trail. There was no more underground tunnel to follow.

  As he climbed the steps holding his weapon at his side, flashlight shoved in his jacket pocket, he hoped whomever he barged in on would understand. Pushing open the bulkhead-type door, fluorescent light glowed bright, washed down the tunnel, and almost blinded him. Blinking, his eyes acclimated and Max stared out the small opening looking for danger before he shoved back the door wide enough to heft himself out of the hole. He stood in what appeared to be some kind of first-aid closet, mounds of white bandage gauze, first-aid kits, and thermal space blankets lined floor-to-ceiling metal racks.

  Where the heck was he now?

  * * * *

  Brad wasn’t at The Crossings lodge and no one had been able to raise him on the walkie-talkie, so here she was trekking up the mountain on rented snowshoes, snowboard in tow, in the direction of the closest Ski Patrol hut. It was too damn cold for cat and mouse games but that is exactly what Sam felt she was in the middle of. She chased after Brad while it seemed the southern man followed her. Did he really think she didn’t see him? He wore a royal-blue ski jacket and a neon green cap. How could she not see him? The better question was, why was he tracking her? Did he think if he got her alone on the mountain, his southern drawl would have her melting at his feet?

  At the image she had painted, a bubble of laughter burst from her lips, her breath freezing in the air as it escaped. Now if it were Max, she thought, she would not only melt, she would liquefy into a quivering puddle. He could thaw her out any day. Right now, feeling like a Popsicle, she could use a defrost.

  Why hadn’t they been able to reach Brad on the walkie-talkie? If he wasn’t at the Ski Patrol station, she would have to take her board back down to mid-mountain and take the gondola up to the peak. She loved the ride up, but the thought of boarding back down the double-black diamond trail made her stomach jitter and roll. She was good, but from her perspective, the mountain defeated her every time she attempted that steep decline. “Don’t think about it,” she murmured with a shake of her head.

  When she lifted her face into the blowing wind to see where she was going, make certain she was not in the path of an oncoming tree, she saw a flash of red. Heart thumping in her chest, Sam paused, rubbed her hands together for warmth, and waited to see if she recognized Brad. She did.

  “Brad!” Waving her arms in the air, she tried to get his attention. “Brad!”

  He never looked back. She strode as fast as possible with tennis rackets strapped to her feet and a snowboard tied to her waist. Before she could close the distance, an engine roared to life behind the trees where she watched Brad disappear. The next instant a snowmobile bolted from between the trees and took off up the mountain.

  Sam slammed a fist against her leg. “Damn!” Whose stupid idea was it for her to go traipsing after Brad? With the palm of a cold glove, she slapped her forehead. Sometimes she should keep her mouth shut. Oh, well. Ignoring the cold, she took a seat in the snow and unhooked the snowshoes. After hooking the rented shoes to a sling across her back, she stepped into her bindings and pushed herself off and back in the direction of mid-mountain to hitch a ride on the gondola.

  Thank goodness, the ride down was much faster than the walk up. She reached the line for the Summit in a matter of minutes. Her stomach rumbled. Maybe when she arrived at the lodge she would grab a bite to eat. The thought of food made her glance around for her southern fried man. It had been a while since she last saw him. Perhaps he finally took the hint or maybe he found some other prey of interest. Either way, she was relieved not to have to look over her shoulders.

  She stood on the gondola riding it to the summit. Cruising high above the snow-topped hills, Sam held her snowboard and watched. She watched boarders take to the air in the half-pipe, jealous that she had to chase after Brad instead of joining in the fun. As the incline became steeper, skiers swooshed below barely missing each other and the trees that lined the slopes.

  Through the blowing snow, her ear caught the distinct whine of a snowmobile engine. Turning to see where the sound came from, she couldn’t locate it at first then out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a Ski Patrol flag. She spun to get a better look, heard the engine gun, and the Ski Patrol snowmobile jolted forward, but she didn’t pay attention to the machine, instead her gaze riveted on the scene the driver left behind.

  Two guys pointed at a third man who held one hand in the air while keeping a grip on his board. Sam’s eyes widened in shock. They held weapons aimed at the lone snowboarder dressed in a bright, royal blue jacket and green neon. As what she saw sank in, her eyes bugged out, her heart skipped a beat, and it registered in her brain.

  “Neanderthal man.”

  Just as she muttered the words, he took a swipe with the board at the two men. He managed to knock one in the head and down to his knees, while he extended a leg and kicked the other with his booted foot. However, his efforts were for nothing. The man on the ground scissored his legs around the Southern boy’s, tripped him up, and had him hitting the ground flat on his back.

  Sam cringed. “Ouch.”

  The big man hadn’t given up his pursuit of her. He had been held up. Did they want his snowboard? Money? Pretty damned ballsy to rob a guy in public on an open mountain. Sam shook her head in disbelief as the two weapon-wielding red coats grabbed the southern snowboarder underneath his arms and started to drag him. In the direction of the Ski Patrol Station? Were they going to leave him at the door so he could get first aid?

  Rubbing her gloved hand across her forehead, Sam tried to figure out what to do. Without a second thought, she reached into her zippered pocket, pulled out her cell phone, and hit re-dial. “Come on, Max, answer the damn phone.”

  “Shit
!” She got his voicemail. “Max! Damn it! That guy I told you about in my previous message is in trouble. I’m going after him. We’re close to the Ski Patrol Station on the left side of the mountain.” She slammed the phone shut, shoved it back in her pocket, and said a prayer.

  Snowboard strapped to her feet, she held tight to the gondola as she hovered above the mountain. On a deep breath, she pushed off, sending her and her board tumbling to the mountain below.

  What the hell had she done? The question ran through her mind as she sailed ungracefully fifteen feet down, hitting the snow with a thud. Air whooshed out of her lungs, her knees screamed in agony at the hard impact. She wobbled and teetered, but managed to right herself. She made it to the ground in one piece. “Yes!” Triumphant, she heard hoots and shouts from above and could not stop the shit-eating grin that spread across her face. She made a quick check of her pistol. Satisfied it had remained tucked tight in the holster at the back of her waist, Sam prepared herself to take on the hill and the goons.

  Blood and adrenaline pumped through her veins. On a rush of excitement, she pointed the nose of her board down the mountain and aimed for the Ski Patrol shack. Grinning like a fool, she took on the mountain, heedless of the dangers that normally paralyzed her when she faced a double-black diamond.

  She rushed down the slope, her snowboard gliding over packed snow, hitting as many moguls as she avoided. When her board made contact with another hard mound, air whooshed from her lungs. She hated the little hills. She would rather be catching air in the half-pipe than bouncing off bumps like the metal ball in a pinball machine. Trying not to think of the terrain, she focused on the two men several hundred yards ahead of her, and the third man they dragged between them.

  What would she say if she caught up with them? They hadn’t noticed her yet, but just a little farther and they would see her coming. Putting some distance between her ass and the heel of her boot, Sam straightened and slowed her descent. She did not want the two goons to think she was heading right for them. No need to worry about that. Before they had seen her, they entered the building, dragging their prey with them.

  “Think, Samantha. Think.” Did she go in with weapon drawn? Did she act innocent, like oops, sorry, didn’t mean to intrude on a threesome? Snow flew up as she skidded to a halt a few feet from the building. Stepping out of the bindings, she came up with a scheme.

  On a heavy sigh, Sam shoved open the door and let it bang against the wall. “Hey.” She made a show of catching her breath and waited for the two men to catch her eye. “You gotta help me. My…my friend…he’s hurt.” She stumbled forward, and as she did, the goons automatically dropped the weight in their hands and moved toward her. Before they took two steps Sam pulled the 9-millimeter from her waist, stood tall and stiff legged, and aimed the weapon in their direction.

  “Don’t move.”

  When they realized she held the weapon leveled at them, the two men froze. Satisfied, her lip curled to one side. Sometimes it was good to be the goddess of self-defense. Now what? Before she could answer her own question, one of the two assailants leapt. With his arms stretched in front of him, he flew through the air, aimed for her waist. Sam mentally rolled her eyes. Her pistol trained on the other idiot, she waited for the flying fool to get close enough. When he came within kicking distance she thrust her booted foot into his mid-section, heard air whoosh from his lungs in a groan, and on his descent, she backfisted his head. The man hit the floor with a thud.

  Just as she shoved her boot against his throat, a noise came from behind the door to her left. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her captives signal each other with a nod of their heads. The door crashed open, the man on the floor rolled, and something tugged at her leg. She went airborne. The thugs took off at a dead run in the opposite direction and out the back door. Landing on her back, Sam rolled and aimed her weapon at the uninvited visitor only to be nose-to-nose with the barrel of a gun.

  THIRTY

  What the hell? All he could make out was some scuffling sound and then a loud bang. A couple of seconds later he heard the distinct sound of a body landing on the floor. With his weapon drawn, he shoved at the door. Crouched low, he moved out of the closet and aimed his Glock at the first person he saw.

  Max could not believe his eyes. Sam had her weapon trained on him. Again.

  “Damn it, Samantha.” On a frustrated sigh, he dropped his weapon to his side. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Pulling himself up, he offered a hand to Sam.

  Ignoring his hand, she scrambled to her feet then took off toward the back door. She kicked the frame.

  “Who was that? What happened?” He squatted next to the body on the floor. “Who is this? Is he dead, shot?” He felt for a pulse. Relieved the man was not dead, he rolled the body over.

  “Shit,” he swore under his breath.

  Samantha joined him. “This is the guy that followed me around all day. Somehow two thugs grabbed him, knocked him out, and dragged him up here.”

  “How the hell did they manage that?” Max raked fingers through his hair. “Nobody gets the drop on Jake,” he muttered.

  “What?” The bright, green-eyed look of surprise on Sam’s face turned to a scowl. “You know him?” She slammed fisted hands against her hips and pinned him with a hard, unwavering stare.

  He gulped. He had to hide the grin that threatened to split across his face. Sam was damn sexy when she stood hand on hips in that Superwoman pose, cinnamon hair flaming in anger. All she needed was a cape. He didn’t think she wanted to know that.

  “Uhh.”

  She didn’t let him explain. “He’s the reason you let me go out in search of Brad alone.”

  It was not a question, but an accusation. He was in deep shit.

  “Nice show of trust.”

  “Trust? Trust has nothing to do with it. I was concerned for your safety. I wanted to protect you from pot shots and kidnappers. I wanted you to be safe.”

  “It is trust when you don’t tell me you put a tail on me. I thought the idiot was some kind of sex fiend.”

  Max bit down on his lower lip to stifle a grin. “You should never have made him,” he muttered.

  “Yeah, well, I did. And because of that, you made me work twice as hard at covering my own ass and ended up covering his.” She aimed a finger at a sprawled Jake. “By now you should understand I’m pretty capable of taking care of myself and don’t need an ex-FBI agent and his sneaky friend protecting me.”

  Max felt his blood boil. She needed help and protection, she was just too damned stubborn to admit it. “Being FBI or ex-FBI has nothing to do with it. Don’t you get it? Are you absolutely deaf and blind? I give a damn! I care about you!” Flinging his arms out wide from his sides, he shouted each word slowly to the rafters, “I—flippin’—love—you.”

  Sam retreated. Oh, no. She was not backing away from him. She was going to understand, once and for all. He took a menacing step toward her and watched as Sam’s gaze widened, but then she held her ground and lifted her chin.

  He lowered his voice. “I asked Jake to shadow you because I love you, and I don’t want to see you in harm’s way.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Damn, damn, double damn, she mentally stomped her feet. Why did men have to complicate everything? Couldn’t he just leave their relationship as is, in limbo with really great sex? Why mess up a good thing with emotions? All it did was make people stupid enough to let their guards down. When that happened what you least expected slammed you down and knocked sense into you. The hard way.

  It happened to her father when her mother died. His guard had been down, and someone snuck in and killed his wife. That’s what happened when Brad proposed. He snuck in and killed whatever feelings she had for him. She shook her head. Not again. Not now.

  This was not the time or place. They were in the middle of a search for Kevin, attempting to identify the person who beat her father within an inch of his life, and figuring out how Brad and di
amonds were involved in all of it. They did not have time for love. She shook her head again then gazed up into Max’s warm face and whiskey eyes. The floor tilted and her knees wobbled as if drunk. Damn, him.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “No?”

  “Don’t confuse the stress of the situation and the pull of two people in that situation with love.”

  Max tilted his head back and laughed. Sam scrunched her face up. What was so funny?

  He reached out, palmed her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I’m not confused. You may be, but I know exactly what I am doing and how I feel. I’m in love with you. Like it or not.”

  Sam moved from Max’s touch. “You can’t profess something like that and then show it in lack of trust.”

  “Damn it!”

  “That’s right. If you supposedly love me then you have to trust me.”

  “I do,” he bellowed.

  She stomped her foot. “You don’t if you lie or omit the truth and don’t tell me something.”

  Jake groaned. “Stop yelling,” he grumbled and rubbed at the back of his head. “You’re giving me a headache.”

  Sam spoke. “It isn’t our arguing that’s giving you the headache.”

  Jake kept rubbing at the back of his head. “What the hell happened?”

  “Two guys got the jump on you. You took out one guy but didn’t quite get the other before he smashed you over the head with what was probably a gun.”

  Max stared at Sam in startled disbelief. “How do you know?”

  “Check your voicemail,” she snarled. “I was on the lift going up to the next section of the mountain when I saw it happen. I had been wondering what happened to my tail when I looked down and there he was.”

  Jake snapped his fingers. “Yeah. I remember. They trailed her from the mid-mountain café. One of them veered off and came back around. Then they confronted me. I tried to play it as if Samantha was my girlfriend and that they needed to stay away from my woman.”