by Black, Regan
She started toward the opening and he caught the hem of her coat, stopping her. If he underestimated Cordell, he wouldn’t allow her head to be the first one in the line of fire.
She looked over her shoulder, her gray eyes full of questions. Helpless to resist, he tugged her close and kissed her. She didn’t fight him off. No, she gripped his coat and pressed her body close to his.
The sudden, sweet-hot contact, the rightness of it burned through the past hurts, cauterizing those old wounds and making room for a spark of something fresh and clean. If only they were anywhere but here, dealing with a blizzard and a diamond thief who wasn’t likely to leave loose ends. He eased back, his heart pounding. The aches in his body now had nothing to do with the earlier crash.
He crept to the edge of the shelter and paused to listen before moving through. No bullets, no threatening promises from Cordell.
“We’re not done,” Evie said from behind him.
He couldn’t agree more.
Chapter Nine
Evie was pretty sure that kiss might be enough to keep her warm through a week of blizzard conditions without proper shelter. Wyatt hadn’t lost his touch or his ability to send her system into overdrive. Desire-infused fantasies drifted through her mind, messing with her concentration, each one better than the last.
But the pulsing, rekindled desire had to wait. She needed to focus if they were going to make the Greenbriar outpost safely. Relatively new, she doubted Wyatt even knew about it. Like the Cotton family, the Greenbriars had been around for generations, leading hikes and capitalizing on the history and natural benefits of the Black Hills.
Snow, without the constant driving wind, made the hike feel almost idyllic. Two old friends—old lovers—taking time to enjoy a quiet walk through a gorgeous snow-covered landscape. There were miracles and worlds caught between every tree and wind-driven drift.
In some places the accumulation was already above her knees. If it kept coming down and the wind kicked up again who knew how high the drifts could be. They hadn’t done anything like this since they were kids.
“You know they might not survive,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence. Wyatt had taken a few minutes to backtrack to the place he’d last seen Cordell. From what he could tell, the other two men had continued on toward the shelter of the museum. “Too easy to get lost.”
“I’m aware.”
“What will the FBI do about that?”
“To me?”
She nodded. Wyatt shouldn’t be penalized for anything that had gone wrong since the robbery. These conditions rendered any plan useless and, unless she was mistaken, the weather would get worse again before the storm moved on.
“If they die and the diamonds and bodies are recovered, the FBI might hold up their end of the deal,” he said.
His tone didn’t sound overwhelmingly certain. “And if they escape?”
“Well, that could be a more serious problem for me,” he admitted. “There is a paper trail to backup that I was sent here to work undercover. That should prevent any legal issues. I don’t have a prior criminal record or the diamonds, so they can’t keep me on the hook.”
Naturally, he’d left a trail, but she wasn’t sure if it would be enough. “I do.”
“You do what?”
She’d planned to wait until they’d found real shelter, until she was sure she could trust him to tell him everything. But if that conversation and kiss had confirmed anything about her feelings for Wyatt, a part of her would always trust him and see the best in him.
“I have the diamonds,” she whispered.
He stopped moving, as if the weather had frozen him solid. “What?” He rushed forward. “How? I saw you hand the Mae West over to Cordell.”
“The accident must’ve rattled Cordell more than he realized.” She held up her gloved hands and wiggled her fingers. “Blame the seasons of dealing poker. I have the Mae West in my pocket, Cordell has Karl’s key fob. I swapped it while Baker was arguing about the coat.”
“Wow.”
Wyatt’s obvious pleasure was almost as effective as his kiss at warming her. “I also found a bunch of loose stones Karl had in his pocket before I came to save you.”
“Save me?” His eyes sparkled and somewhere behind the scarf, she knew he grinned. “Because I’m not a criminal.”
“Save you or possibly arrest you.” She shrugged and kept going. Stopping only made it harder to start up again, a sure sign she was losing the current battle against the elements. “Or wring your neck,” she added. “Somewhere in all of that mess I decided if anyone was going to hurt you it should be me.”
Her thighs were quivering and she wobbled through the next few paces. He hustled up next to her, as if he sensed her distress. “I’m fine,” she assured him.
“How much further?” he asked.
She knew he wanted to lead, to carve a path through the snow to make the hike easier for her. She surveyed their surroundings, knowing everything was taking longer because of the storm. “Not far. The sign…”
Her voice trailed off as she turned a slow circle, looking for the marker. The wording would be blotted out, but the shape of the sign, posted high on a tree trunk, should be nearby.
She started to shake and swore at herself as she recognized the signs of dehydration and looming hypothermia. She’d spent too much energy rushing after Wyatt. Sheltering for a time had helped, but without any food or water, the short break hadn’t been as effective as she’d hoped.
“Evie?”
The worry in his voice was clear, even if he sounded like he called her name from across a canyon. Snowflakes dropped gently onto her face, tangled in her eyelashes. Had she fallen?
She blinked, or tried to, determined to keep her heavy eyelids open. Then she saw it, the sign jutting out from a tree just over Wyatt’s shoulder. She hoisted her hand up, pointing toward the sign. “There.” As her vision went from gray to black, she prayed that the word made it past her lips.
* * *
Wyatt refused to panic as he crouched down and maneuvered Evie’s limp body over his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he pushed to his feet. Steady on his feet, he marched on. So much for Army assessments and standards, he thought. Moving as quickly as the snow allowed, he carried Evie toward the Greenbriar Goldrush. The square building reminded him of the old ghost town Cordell had been aiming for. Fashioned after a classic western general store, there was a wide, raised porch and big display windows up front.
He eased Evie down to the snow-dusted porch floor, supporting her between the wall and his good leg. Despite the old-west facade, the door was modern enough with an electronic lock and keypad panel. He tested the handle anyway and shoved the door with his shoulder, but it held.
“Evie.” He patted her ghostly-pale face. Her lips were so blue his heart stuttered. When she’d dropped into the snow…it had happened so fast, but he couldn’t think about that now. She was breathing and her pulse was steady. He had to get her inside and warm her up.
“Evie, honey. Do you know the code?” He gave her shoulder a gentle shake.
He’d break a window as a last resort. Although he didn’t want to create trouble for the business owners, he really didn’t want to compromise the shelter if he didn’t have to.
“Wyatt?” She slurred his name and tried to rub at her eyes.
He caught her hands, chafed them with his own. “We’re at the Goldrush place. What’s the security code?”
“Umm.” She squinted at him. “Try 48482,” she said through chattering teeth.
The code worked and the lock opened. He dragged her inside and kicked the door closed. Setting the lock once more, he turned his attention to the woman at his feet.
“I might be a poker-dealing popsicle,” she muttered.
“Maybe. But you’re definitely the sweetest one,” he replied. He tried to knock off the snow caked to her pants and quickly gave up. Scooping her into his arms again, he carried her away from any possible draf
ts near the front door and windows. One side window was already blocked by a snow drift, but enough light filtered through the window at the opposite end of the narrow building for him to find his way.
He tucked her behind the sales counter. “Wait here.”
“You think I’m a flight risk?”
Her humor was a good sign, he thought, hurrying away in search of the thermostat. Finding the system, he turned on the heat, praying everything with the system was in working order. The fan kicked on, which was a good sign. Although the shop had been closed up for the winter, there were cases of water stocked in a storage room and plenty of merchandise that could be helpful. He dragged a camp chair and a stack of polar fleece blankets embroidered with the Greenbriar logo behind the counter. He hauled over a case of water too and then started stripping away her frigid, wet clothing.
“Wyatt, relax. I’ll be okay. I just need some water and a few minutes to rest.”
“That’s what you said before you went down like a tree.”
“Did I make a sound?”
He shook his head at another attempt at humor. “I was around to hear it, so yeah.”
“Good.” She tried to help him peel away the layers, but her movements were more clumsy than helpful.
He gently swatted her hands aside. “Let me take care of you, Evie.” Kidnapping her hadn’t looked like a caring gesture at the time, but it had been the only way to prevent something worse. He wouldn’t let the storm steal her away from him now. “Just this once at least.”
She subsided, but he suspected they were both grateful he stopped undressing her when he reached the layers of her shirt and underwear. Her legs were chapped and rosy from the cold and soaked fabrics. He covered her in several blankets and then massaged her lightly all over, trying to work some feeling back into her muscles. Gradually the color came back into her lips and he checked her fingertips and toes to make sure she wasn’t fighting frostbite.
“The boots were too big, but they did the trick,” she said wiggling her toes. “Make sure you take care of yourself too.”
He handed her a bottle of water, opening the cap for her and then taking a bottle for himself. They both drank them straight down and he repeated the process for each of them. “I had better gear to start with,” he reminded her. Another strike against him for dragging her out here. Still, near frostbite had to beat a bullet on the grand scale.
“Stop beating yourself up, Wyatt.”
He aimed a scowl at the fireplace. “Does that thing work?”
“Yes.” She caught his hand and laced her fingers through his. “You did what you had to do in the casino, Wyatt. I know that.”
Her hands were less like blocks of ice and more like the refrigerated case at the grocery. He studied her short fingernails, unable to meet her gaze.
“I’m safe,” she continued. “I’ll be room temperature soon. Thanks to you.”
Emotion clogged his throat. He quickly pushed away from her to find wood for the fire. “I left you at the SUV,” he said.
She muttered something surely unflattering. “Because you know I can handle myself. An hour ago you called me indestructible.”
“I was working out how to get back to you.” A blast of cold air rushed down the chimney when he opened the flue.
“Close it,” she snapped. “If you light a fire, the smoke will be a beacon to Tate and Baker.”
Crap. He’d been so consumed with her wellbeing he hadn’t thought about that. He did as she said and stepped back from the stone hearth.
“Do they sell sleeping bags here?”
“Check the back room,” she said. “The family stores some personal gear back there.”
He found a sleeping bag and a camp stove with fuel. They could use that instead of a fire to keep warm until the heat system started to make a difference. Past the backroom, there was a kitchenette with canned goods, dishes and a working microwave. At least he could get some hot food into her soon.
“Do I want to know how you know the store code and the personal habits of the Greenbriars?” he asked when he returned, setting the sleeping bag and stove between them.
“Probably not,” she admitted from under the heap of blankets.
“Tell me anyway,” he suggested. Firmly.
“Fine. A few years ago, there was a merger in the works between Cottonwood and Greenbriar. It fell apart and Dad never let me hear the end of it.”
His stomach sank. “What kind of merger?” At her cocked eyebrow he knew. She’d nearly married one of the Greenbriar boys. He bit back a demand to know which one. None of them were good enough for her. No one was. Not even him. But Evie would’ve done her best to make it work. Anything to keep Cottonwood going.
“Your dad’s idea?”
“No.” Her fingers tangled together. “Mine. It was one suggestion he didn’t shoot down outright,” she admitted quietly.
Wyatt surged to his feet, needing some distance. He couldn’t picture Evie with another man without a haze of red blotting out the image. She was his, though he had zero claim on her. He had no right to be this angry.
“I took the Silver Aces job instead,” she said.
He scrubbed at his face and pulled himself together. The close call was news to him, but she’d dealt with all of this alone because he’d stayed away, too afraid to reach out. He lit the camp stove and moved around behind her, stretching out his legs on either side of hers, her back against his chest. She didn’t resist, though her body was stiff for a few minutes.
It was penance, he decided. Holding her close, keeping the contact friendly and proper when his mind raced down far more intimate paths. There were so many things he wanted to say, things he should’ve said eleven years ago.
She relaxed a little at a time as he stroked her hair, until her head was heavy on his shoulder. Her breathing was deep and even and he peeked down to confirm she’d fallen asleep.
“I’ve loved you all my life, Evelyn Cotton. If I could do it differently I would.”
She never would’ve left her parents and the business to follow his Army career. Maybe, if he’d known how things would turn out, he would’ve tried harder to find a solution closer to home. Closer to her.
Maybe.
He’d had to get away from the places and habits that ruined his mother and left behind a wasteland where a family had been. Through the years, his memories of Deadwood had turned into a roiling mass of black clouds full of soul-shaking thunder and jagged lightning strikes. He’d stayed away, so certain he couldn’t survive a visit.
Eleven years was a long time to search for answers that had been right inside him all along. He’d never missed Deadwood much, but he’d never stopped craving Evie. “I’m sorry I was a jerk,” he whispered against her temple. “Then and now.”
Once they were clear of this mess he’d sit down with her and tell her how he felt and what he wanted to do about it. With the compensation the FBI had promised him for the capture of the thieves and recovery of the diamonds, he could invest in her business. And keep her from resorting to a marriage for the sake of business capital.
As she slept, he wondered how he was going to leave her when the time came. Did he have to? Was there a solution here that would suit them both?
Despite all his training and service in the Army, he’d never drummed up the courage to come back to his hometown. To Evie. The awareness shamed him. “I’ll get us out of this, baby. Then we’ll sort out you and me.”
* * *
Evie woke up in a rush, disoriented and too warm. It was dark and the wind was howling. She tried to wriggle a foot out of the covers, but her legs were wrapped tightly. The pillow under her cheek was hot and there was a firm pressure all along her spine. Where in the world was she?
“Shh. It’s just me.”
Wyatt. His scent clicked for her even before the words registered. His muscular arm was the hot pillow under her cheek. In some deep part of her Wyatt would always equal safety and comfort, even after he’d b
roken her heart. The day came back to her and she remembered how he’d rescued her when her body temperature had dropped and she’d run out of fight.
“When did you tuck us into the sleeping bag?”
“Shortly before my feet turned into blocks of ice.” He shifted around and loosened the blankets. “Better?”
“Definitely less like a mummy, yes. Thanks.”
“Hungry?”
“Famished.” Her stomach rumbled, confirming her answer. “You didn’t eat?”
“I was busy with other things.” He reached over and turned on an LED lantern.
She felt a little guilty. “I fell asleep on you.”
“Best thing you could’ve done.” He handed her another bottle of water. “Drink up.”
“In a minute.” After hiking through the blizzard in less than ideal gear, she’d never thought she’d be too warm again, but the cool air on her bare legs felt good. Refreshing. Energizing. Deliberately ignoring the embarrassing fact that she wasn’t fully dressed, she darted down the hall to the restroom. On her way back to their indoor campsite behind the sales counter, she noticed he had their clothes hanging up near an air vent to dry. She checked the pockets inside the coat and discovered the diamonds were still there.
She touched the pants, still damp, and shivered at the idea of wearing those layers again. It was probably wrong to hope Tate and Baker had been overcome by the storm and wouldn’t threaten or rob anyone ever again.
“Here.” Wyatt folded a blanket in half and wrapped it around her waist. “You don’t need to get chilled again.”
“Too late,” she said. “I was thinking about Tate and Baker.”
“Forget them. If they followed my advice, they’re safe enough at the mining museum.”
“Is it wrong of me to hope they didn’t make it?” Wrapped in the blanket, she shuffled along as he went into the kitchenette. “So what now? Do you call the FBI and tell them where they can pick up the loser duo?”