by Liz Shoaf
Ned practically dove into the yawning darkness below as a bright orange detonation took place at the front of the structure and his cabin shook under the force. The woman was screaming and squirming in his arm and her rat dog bit his hand while he was trying his best to save them. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that this whole mess wasn’t going to end well.
THREE
Throwing up became a real possibility for Mary Grace. She gritted her teeth against the pain in her side as Ned held her tight with one arm while running down a flight of stairs into total darkness. She couldn’t believe someone had bombed the cabin. Was there more than one man following her on the mountain? She was used to reporting the news, not being part of it.
“Hang tight. We should be okay. The cabin is built with reinforced steel under the wood.”
She couldn’t respond. Air hissed through her teeth until he gently placed her on the floor. She took a deep breath as a lantern flickered to life. The light reflected on Ned’s fierce, concerned expression and she took another quick breath to calm herself. A mass of emotions roiled through her. Fear and—she couldn’t believe it under the circumstances—still that annoying attraction to the man currently hovering over her. It wasn’t possible. She barely knew the guy and he had the manners of a warthog, but there it was, the tiniest little flutter in her heart. She ignored it.
Tink whimpered and Ned’s big dog trundled over to offer what Mary Grace assumed was comfort. It worked because Tinker Bell quit shivering and growled when the massive dog licked her on the face. The limp and tattered Christmas bows had disappeared and her sweet little dog looked like a wrung-out dishrag in her previously pristine doggy Christmas sweater.
Tentatively, Mary Grace reached out and laid a hand on the large animal next to her little one. “Sweet Krieger. Nice doggy.” He allowed her to pet him. His fur was long and felt wiry to the touch.
“Mary Grace,” Ned said in a soft tone, “I’m going to have to recon the area. I bandaged your wound before you woke up, but I need to check and see if it started bleeding again.”
Mary Grace didn’t want to talk about the explosion and the men who had just tried to decimate them. Not just yet. She needed a minute. “When we get through this, you’ll have to tell me how you and Krieger met. He seems like a sweet dog, once you get to know him.”
Ned kneeled in front of her and placed the lantern on the hard, cold dirt-packed floor.
“I was wrong about you.”
Her hand stilled in Krieger’s wiry, comforting fur. “What?”
“I thought you were tough, but here you are, wimping out on me at the first sign of trouble.”
Her nostrils flared at the insult. “You don’t know anything about me, so how dare you accuse me of being a wimp.”
He grinned and she realized he had done the same thing to her that his dog had to Tinker Bell.
“I can check my own wound,” she said, embarrassment threading through her words.
Mary Grace lost her train of thought when he smiled again, revealing a set of perfectly aligned, sparkling white teeth. The man definitely wasn’t what he appeared to be and her reporter’s curiosity was roused. Maybe she’d do a piece on him once they were out of this mess. He had a closet full of secrets and she could literally smell a story.
“I didn’t know you were modest.” He actually chuckled. “Don’t worry, the bullet went straight through the fleshy part of your waist. Even though you bled a good bit, it’s not a serious wound.”
“Easy for you to say.”
He stood and towered over her before reaching for something under the staircase. He came out with a pistol and handed it to her. “You said you knew how to use one of these.”
She grasped the gun and looked it over. “SIG Sauer P38. Perfect.”
He chuckled one more time before climbing the stairs. Over his shoulder, he issued a command. “Krieger, protect the woman and dog.”
Before she could protest, he disappeared silently through the hidden doorway.
Her hand shook as she checked to make sure the gun was locked and loaded. She had done her best to hide her true emotions from Ned. She was not only terrified at the situation she found herself in, but worried sick about Bobby. As far as she knew, her brother was a simple computer analyst with the CIA. They had lured him in straight after school by offering to pay off his college loans if he’d work for them for five years. Mary Grace had advised him against it because she knew how naive Bobby was and how political the CIA had become. She offered to help him until he got established, but he was determined to make it on his own.
After rubbing a hand over her wound to make sure it wasn’t bleeding, she picked up the lantern and held it high, checking out the cellar. It wasn’t very large—about half the length of the cabin. Both the walls and floor were constructed with hard-packed dirt, but the interesting thing was the canned food and water stored on crude shelves built against the wall. Matches, several more lanterns and a first-aid kit were there if needed.
Settling her back against the wall, she kept the gun in her hand and her ears peeled for any sound coming from upstairs. Both Krieger and Tink snuggled beside her, and she decided to review the information she had so far. It helped to keep her calm and her mind from wondering whether Ned was okay out there on that freezing, fierce mountain with killers running loose.
She knew next to nothing about the man living on this mountain in the middle of nowhere. Was Ned his real name, and what was his last name? What did he do for a living? Her reporter’s curiosity had been roused and she knew from experience that she wouldn’t stop until she found out everything there was to know about the man.
In her mind’s eye, she went over what she’d seen of the cabin, searching for clues. The place itself wasn’t much to look at. Log walls. A tiny kitchen/living area. The bed she’d lain in was pushed against the wall and there was one door, besides the obvious front door, that probably led to the bathroom.
What struck her was the neatness of the place. It made her think of military precision. An old couch with a ratty afghan folded across the back sat in the middle of the living area. A coffee table squatted in front of the couch, but there were no side tables. No computers or TV anywhere. Mary Grace’s eyes narrowed as she remembered seeing a large landscape painting hanging on the wall beside the bed. She had only glanced at it, but the quality seemed out of sync with the cabin, so she filed the information away. In the past, she’d broken stories wide open by taking note of the smallest details.
She shivered and both dogs snuggled closer. She knew she should do a better check on her wound, but she didn’t want to lose the warmth of the animals.
Chewing her lower lip, she tried not to worry about Bobby, but she couldn’t stop herself. He was the only family that counted outside of Gram Ramsey. She still prayed for her mother and stepfather, but had pretty much given up hope of them overcoming their gambling addiction. She smiled as she thought of her grandmother. The older woman was a spitfire and Mary Grace knew this time of year the old historic house would be traditionally festooned with Christmas decorations—a lot of them made by Mary Grace and Bobby when they were kids—and a huge live tree. Gram stood about five feet two inches in her stockings, but her strong will and absolute faith made her seem ten feet tall. She had withstood the tests of time with an elegance that Mary Grace could only aspire to.
A scratching noise upstairs jerked her out of her musings. Krieger got to his feet and quietly stood at the foot of the stairs. Reacting quickly, Mary Grace clamped a hand over Tinker Bell’s snout before the dog could bark. She held her breath and heard a shuffling noise that sounded like someone walking through the remains of the cabin. Whoever it was stopped at the top of the stairs.
She held Tink up to her face. “Shh. Don’t bark. Please.”
Slowly, she released her hand, and when she was sure her dog would stay quiet, she scrambled
to her feet, ignoring the pain in her side, and crossed to stand beside Krieger. She willed her hands to stay steady as she lifted the gun and held it with both hands toward the small hidden door at the top of the stairs. It hadn’t been long since Ned left, and it could be him returning, but what if it wasn’t?
The panel started to open, and she tightened her grip on the gun, ready to stop the killer.
* * *
Standing from his crouch over the footprints he’d discovered circling around to the back of the cabin, Ned’s head had snapped up and his body tensed when he heard a snowmobile coming toward the front. Sound carried differently in the mountains and there was no way of knowing how close it was. By the time he raced around the structure, someone had already entered the cabin.
His pulse pounded as he called on years of training and forced himself to relax. He slowly mounted the steps, then sidestepped the front door, which hung by the top two hinges.
“Uncle Ned?”
The tentative, fear-filled words froze the blood in his veins.
He’d warned his family to stay away from the cabin until he notified them, but his niece, Fran, was an intelligent, determined twenty-four-year-old woman currently working on her master’s in advertising. What scared him was that his niece was on the mountain at the same time as the killer. He stared at her, standing in front of the open panel that led to the hidden basement. He didn’t know if Mary Grace would realize Fran was friendly, but before he could control the situation, Krieger bounded out of the opening with the woman on his heels, the rat dog tucked under one arm and the gun in the opposite hand. He was relieved to see the weapon quickly lowered to her right side.
Fear stamped on her face, Fran glanced between the two of them, then dropped her gaze to the gun in Mary Grace’s hand.
“Uncle Ned?”
“Aye, niece, I’m here. Everything’s okay.”
He opened his arms and Fran flew against his chest. She shivered for a few minutes, then pulled away. Propping her hands on slim hips, she attempted to show bravado, but Ned could see the fear lingering in her eyes.
“It looks like you’ve gotten yourself into a real mess this time.” She slanted a questioning look toward Mary Grace. “Wait till I tell Mom and Grandfather.”
Ned shook his head and went along with her stab at courage. “Ye and yer mother canna seem to stay out of my business. ’Tis embarrassing.”
With a triumphant glint in her eyes, Mary Grace scooted forward and he gently took the gun from her hand when she got close enough to get in his face.
“I knew you had a Scottish background. I just knew it.”
She appeared very pleased with herself until Ned cut a sharp glance toward Fran, sending her a message to keep quiet about his private life.
Mary Grace took a step back, folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot. “I saw that.”
He ignored her astute observation and addressed his niece. “Sweetheart, I know you’re a grown, independent woman, living at home while you work on getting your master’s, but does your mother know you’re here? You know she worries.” Fran might be twenty-four years old, but she still managed that sweet, pleading look that always turned his heart to mush. He lifted a hand.
“Never mind. We have to get off this mountain. I’m pretty sure the guy who bombed the cabin is gone, but there’s no way to be certain.”
Both ladies tensed, and he could almost smell their fear return. He mentally shook his head. How, after meticulous planning and patiently waiting, had these two women ended up in his cabin at the exact moment his enemy had decided to attack? If it was indeed his enemy and not Mary Grace’s. It was implausible, at least concerning Mary Grace. But she was connected to all of this through her brother.
He had to track down Bobby Lancaster and he needed Mary Grace to make that happen.
“Did you check your wound?” Her hesitation answered his question. “Do it now and do it fast. We’re leaving in ten minutes.” He turned to Fran as Mary Grace flew back down the stairs to the basement. “Did you see anyone on your way up the mountain?”
Fran’s eyes widened. “Y-you mean like the person who did this to your cabin?”
Ned nodded. “Didn’t you hear the blast?” He felt bad about scaring her, but she needed to know the gravity of the situation.
“N-no. I couldn’t hear anything above the noise of the snowmobile.” She glanced toward the darkened stairwell. “Was she hurt in the blast?”
“Her name is Mary Grace Ramsey. I found her in a ravine with a gunshot wound well before the bomb was detonated.” He rushed out an explanation when Fran’s face paled. “She’s fine. Just a flesh wound.”
His niece lifted big blue eyes full of love that sent an arrow straight to his heart. “Uncle Ned, are you in trouble? I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”
“Aw, come here, lassie.” He folded her in his arms, then placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back, looking straight into her eyes. “Now havenae I always come back home in one piece?”
She grinned, and he was glad to see it. “Your accent always shows itself when you’re emotional.”
“Aye, that it does.” He grinned and stepped back. “Now, let’s get off this mountain.”
Mary Grace cleared the top step. The dog carrier was strapped to the front of her body and she winced as she slid the straps of her backpack over her shoulders. “I’m all for that,” she said, and gave him a look, practically daring him to mention her wound. “I’ll be fine and I’m ready to leave. I left my car at the base of the mountain.”
Ned led the way to the front door, but came to a grinding halt when he heard a sharp bark behind him and his niece squealed. “You have a dog! What a precious little thing.”
Waiting for both women to come up behind him on the front porch, Ned scanned the frozen tundra surrounding them, but he didn’t sense the presence of another human being. He’d checked a half-mile perimeter around the cabin and at the front of the structure found the remnants of a simple bomb. It had an attachment that appeared as if the device had been detonated remotely. Whoever tried to kill them had left the mountain. He felt it in his gut.
“Stay close.”
He heard Mary Grace grumble to Fran behind him. “Your uncle is certainly a man of few words.”
Fran whispered, “He wasn’t always this way.”
Ned sent her a sharp look over his shoulder and Fran zipped her lips. He pulled the shed door open and started checking his snowmobile.
Mary Grace sidled next to him. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure no one has tampered with my equipment.”
Her eyes rounded and she didn’t ask any more questions, which suited him just fine. He’d talked more since meeting her than he had in a long time.
“Fran, you’ll take your snowmobile. I’ll strap Krieger in behind you. Mary Grace can ride with me. I’ll take the lead, but you stay close. I want to get you back to your mother safe and sound.”
“But, Uncle Ned—”
He interrupted what he knew was coming. Fran and Sylvia were always at odds these days, and normally he would try to help, but now was not the time.
His voice was loving, but firm. “We’ll talk later.”
Everything checked out, so he fired up the snowmobile and motioned for Mary Grace to hop on. He didn’t miss her wince of pain as she threw her leg over the seat.
“Hold on tight.”
She placed her arms around his waist and Ned felt an unfamiliar warmth at her touch. He attributed it to the fact that he hadn’t dated or even been around many women in the last few years. Ignoring the sensation, he pulled in front of the cabin. Fran was already seated on her snowmobile and ready to ride. She’d strapped Krieger in herself.
Ned took two helmets from the side of his snowmobile and handed one to Mary Grace. When they
were both ready, he took off and Fran followed closely.
If he were still a praying man, he would have sent up a quick prayer for their safety, but he’d learned not to trust anyone but himself, and that included a God who allowed good people to get hurt.
It didn’t take long to reach the bottom of the mountain, but fortune wasn’t on his side. They pulled to a stop beside Mary Grace’s car and there stood Sheriff Jack Hoyt, his arms crossed over his chest. Ned cut the engine and helped Mary Grace off the back of the sled. Fran was already off her snowmobile and came to stand beside Ned.
Ned nodded at the lawman. “Sheriff.”
Sheriff Hoyt nodded back. “Ned.”
He heard Mary Grace grumble. “What is it with this town? Do all the men speak in one-syllable words?”
Ned ignored her and watched the sheriff. He didn’t have time for any delays or long explanations. He hoped the mountain and snow had muffled the blast enough that it hadn’t been heard in Jackson Hole.
Hoyt’s brows lifted as he nodded at Fran, then focused on Mary Grace. “Saw your vehicle on the side of the road and figured you’d decided to try to find Ned.”
To her credit, Mary Grace pasted on a friendly smile and her explanation didn’t leave any openings for questions. “I sure did, and I appreciate all your help.”
Hoyt turned to Fran. “Didn’t know you were familiar with Ned.”
Taking her cue from Mary Grace, Fran grinned at the sheriff. “I’ve seen him around a few times.”
Ned slowly released the breath he’d been holding. His family understood he didn’t want anyone in Jackson Hole to know he was related to them for their own safety. One day his past might catch up with him.
Hoyt leveled a disbelieving look at the three of them, but cracked a grin when Mary Grace’s dog stuck its head out of the pouch and barked. The sheriff moved close and rubbed its fluffy white head.
“Aw, what a cute dog. I have one of my own. Left him at the station today.”