Big Horn Storm.

by Kim McMahill

  “That sounds like Papa,” Niki giggled. “And I really could use a long hot bath, real food and a bed. So if you’re sure he’s okay, I’ll obey and not get you into any trouble with him.”

  Niki let Bob take her horse without argument and headed for the house. She had spent so much time at the ranch over the years that she knew where everything was and didn’t need to be shown around. Niki went straight to the room where she always stayed, collapsed onto the bed and cried. She wasn’t sure if it was tears of relief, exhaustion or fear for the future, but it felt good to let it all out in private. Trying to stay strong for the girls, her grandfather and Deuce had become as exhausting as living on so little sleep and too much adrenaline.

  After her bath, she laid down, thinking she would only rest for a few moments before getting something to eat. But by the time she opened her eyes the room was dark and the sun had set. Niki wasn’t sure how long she had slept, but she felt much better and was ready for food and to face her fears.

  Her mind had been a jumble of thoughts and emotions as she and Deuce rode out of the high country and back to the ranch. Niki wasn’t sure how best to handle many things in her life, but after a little rest her head had cleared and she knew exactly what she wanted and this time she wouldn’t walk away.

  As Niki made her way down the hall toward the kitchen, she heard voices and stopped. She had never heard so much emotion in Deuce’s tone. He and Bob always conversed like ranch hand and boss, or as of late, like colleagues, not father and son, but this conversation was different.

  “When Sarah told me what Niki had done, I was terrified. If something had happened to her…”

  His voice trailed off and for several seconds the kitchen was quiet except for the sound of meat frying in the cast iron skillet.

  “But nothing did,” Bob finally said. “You’ve never given her enough credit, son. She’s got guts and a heart far bigger than her little body.”

  “When I found her, she said she did it because she had less to lose than Sarah or the girls, and that tore my heart out. She thought it wouldn’t matter to me if she didn’t make it.”

  “What else would she think? You’ve been pushing her away for years.”

  The phone rang and Niki let out a sigh of relief. She listened and from the tone of the conversation she could tell it was her grandfather. She waited another moment and then casually walked around the corner. The sight of Deuce nearly took her breathe away. He was clean shaven, wearing a shirt that emphasized the width of his shoulders and the look in his eyes made her yearn to throw herself in his arms and smooth away the lines of tension etched on his face. The bruises and cuts had nearly faded, but the faint scars made her more determined than ever to make him forget the past.

  Bob laughed at something Bernie said and turned toward the doorway. When he saw Niki he motioned her over and kissed her cheek. With an arm possessively wrapped around her shoulders he patiently waited for a break in conversation and then handed the phone to Niki.

  She was so relieved to hear her grandfather’s voice. He sounded much stronger already, which gave her confidence that he would be okay. She listened as he ordered her not to come to the hospital until the next day.

  “I promise I’ll stay put for the night. I’m just so thankful to hear the CCIS is on the run and their alliance is falling apart. Just knowing we have our country back will let me sleep like a baby tonight. Having not slept much in longer than I can remember and having a real bed will probably help too.”

  By the time she hung up the phone Bob had slapped a thick steak and a microwaved potato on a plate and slid it in front of her. She ate while listening to Bob report on everything that had happened across the country while they where hunkered down in the mountains and he was stuck in the nation’s capital.

  The U.S. had been caught off guard, thinking no one would have the nerve to attack on American soil. Once the U.S. Allies arrived, allowing the military to go on the offense rather than being pinned down defending the capitol and other major cities, it didn’t take long to turn the tide. Deployed U.S. military resources raced back in time to hasten the expulsion of the CCIS.

  Russia and China had led the major attacks on the east and west coasts. The Iranians primary task was to locate and secure all the missiles housed in silos scattered across the West and Midwest, destroy the launch control facilities and take out the military bases in Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota and New Mexico. Their job hadn’t gone according to plan as far as the missiles were concerned, mostly because the government and the rural residents and ranchers weren’t willing to cooperate.

  “I imagine those soldiers came after you so aggressively to salvage their pride when their colleagues found out about the Colonel. Having their highly touted military hero taken out by a slip of a girl had to be a real kick in the fanny. I doubt they wanted to admit what happened until you were all dead, so you couldn’t tell the humiliating truth. Their assignment had probably been considered the easiest task, but they couldn’t quite corral a handful of rebellious ranchers. When resources became available, Cal and I convinced the military to conduct the rescue. The military kept calling it a recovery mission, but we insisted it was a rescue operation. Good thing they listened and came in heavily armed.”

  “Bob, if you hadn’t convinced them to come for us when you did, we wouldn’t have lasted even five more minutes. I had one bullet left when our military arrived and Frank was down to defending with my ‘girl gun,’ as Deuce calls it. When I saw Deuce hand it to him I almost lost it.”

  Bob hated to think about how close he had come to losing his only child and friends and neighbors who he thought of as family. He wasn’t sure he could survive that kind of pain again. He left the table and started cleaning up, afraid if Niki looked at him with those big blue eyes one more time he might lose control of his emotions, which he had never done in public except when his wife had died.

  “You two have had enough for one day. Go get some rest. I’ll clean up.”

  Niki wasn’t sure if that would be possible with all the emotions churning through her mind. There was so much unresolved between her and Deuce. She watched Bob’s back for a moment as he focused more than necessary on the task of washing dishes and then she looked over at Deuce. He was busy studying the rim of his coffee cup, avoiding her gaze. The two men were so much alike, both trying to avoid looking at her for fear of showing emotion, and she was tired of dancing around the issues.

  “I’m going to check on Storm. He really pulled his weight during our little adventure. Deuce, grab a carrot and come with me.”

  His head snapped up and the startled look in his eyes almost made her laugh out loud. He sat stunned for a moment until Bob tapped him on the shoulder with a carrot. Deuce took the carrot and followed Niki to the corral.

  The moment she approached the fence, Storm trotted over to her. She rubbed her hand up and down his nose.

  “You give it to him. You need more points with the horse than I do—I can actually walk up to him in a pasture and put a halter on him,” Niki said with a mischievous smile on her lips.

  Storm hesitated, but after a few questioning looks at Niki he bit the carrot and pulled it out of Deuce’s hand. When the horse was sure there were no more treats he trotted off to continue eating at the feed bunk.

  Niki couldn’t believe how unfazed the horse appeared. He acted as if everything that had happened was just part of his normal routine. His hair was coated in mud from rolling in the loose dirt and she could still see a few scars on his chest and legs, but he pranced around with his head held high and his long mane floating in his wake as if he were the most important figure in the world. She forced her eyes away from her regal palomino and looked at Deuce.

  They stood in the moonlight leaning against the top wooden corral pole. Niki reached up and gently placed her hand on Deuce’s arm. When his eyes met hers, she knew it was now or never.

  “I thought Papa was the only one who would care if I lived or d
ied, the only person in the world I could turn to when I needed comfort. When the thunder and lightening came, I ran to you. I didn’t think about what that meant until Papa brought it up. And even after he mentioned it I tried to convince myself I went to you because he was injured and I didn’t want to disturb him.”

  “So?”

  She hated that he was making this so difficult for her. What did he want? Did she have to spell it out? She toyed with walking away, but couldn’t. She had done that before when he had needed her and although he would never admit it, he needed her now more than ever.

  “But I came to you because I wanted to be with you. It’s where I belong.”

  “Just then or forever?”

  She sighed and shook her head. “What do you think?”

  Niki watched his eyes narrow and grow dark. He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers. She relaxed and leaned into him, suddenly realizing that other than when she was with her grandfather she only felt safe with Deuce. She also accepted that she would never feel at home anywhere else or with anyone else, but she refused to beg or make promises she couldn’t keep.

  “I think you’re tougher than you look. I think you saved my life and didn’t hesitate for even a moment to put others’ safety before your own. Nothing has ever scared me worse than when you were in danger and I think if you leave me I might just die inside all over again.”

  “We both came close to dying more than once and when I think about it, it’s almost more than I can bear, but it was a situation beyond our control. Your mother didn’t choose to have cancer or to leave you¾her passing was a situation she couldn’t change or control either. I would rather have you for as long as I can than not at all. I pray we can have forever, but there are no guarantees in life, but I’m willing to take the risk—are you?”

  Niki tried not to flinch under Deuce’s scrutiny. He placed one large rough hand on each side of her face and stared into her eyes. She saw pain, sorrow, strength, and for the first time in years, hope.

  “I’m willing.”

  A smile tugged at her lips, but she tried to remain focused. “So you want me to stay?”

  “What do you think?”

  She gave him a playful slug on the arm. “I think you’re an infuriating, moody, overbearing and ornery man, but since I think you’ve loved me for as long as I’ve loved you and you want to marry me, I’ll forgive you and I’ll stay.”

  Deuce wrapped his arms around Niki and kissed her hard on the lips. A moan escaped his lips as she ran her small hands slowly up his chest until she was able to wrap her arms around his neck. She leaned into him, absorbing all his warmth and passion. The kiss was deep and demanding just as she always dreamed. Fire shot through her as she savored the feel of Deuce holding her. He softened the kiss, but his gentle touch did nothing to cool the heat and she was disappointed when he finally pulled away.

  “I’ve been waiting to do that for over a decade and it was worth every minute. Now come on wife, if we call your grandfather with the news he’ll be miraculously recovered by morning. Once I’m family, I can make that old goat retire and then we can get started on those great granddaughters he’s been complaining about needing.”

  Niki rolled her eyes and laughed. Her life was about to change, but it would never be dull. There would be risks and challenges, but she had no doubt a life with Deuce would be worth it. They had made mistakes with each other and would probably make more, but she felt they had both finally healed from the pain of the past and would be able to face anything together. It had been a long hard ride, but she was finally home.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Kim McMahill grew up in Wyoming, which is where she developed her sense of adventure and love of the outdoors. Since leaving Wyoming she has enjoyed many opportunities to see the world, and has lived amid some of America’s most stunning landscapes. Kim started out writing non-fiction, but her passion for exotic world travel, outrageous adventures, stories of survival, and happily-ever-after endings soon drew her into a world of romantic suspense. Along with writing adventure novels Kim has also published over eighty travel and geographic articles, and contributed to a travel anthology and cookbook. When not writing, Kim enjoys gardening, traveling, and spending time with family.

  To learn more about Kim and her writing, visit her website at http://KimMcMahill.com or follow her at http://KimMcMahill.blogspot.com or on twitter at https://twitter.com/kimmcmahill.

  Deadly Exodus

  Kim McMahill

  Copyright 2012 Kim McMahill

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher.

  Published by Prism Book Group

  ISBN 978-0-9847645-8-7 First Edition, 2012

  Published in the United States of America

  Contact info: contact@prismbookgroup.com

  http://www.prismbookgroup.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  Nyla Ward’s grandmother was born in Pennsylvania. Her mother was born in Mississippi and she in New Mexico. The country was in transition and the Ward women had migrated west to stay ahead of progress, but the wishes of the politicians had prevailed. The direction in which the country was destined to follow was set, but the game was far from over.

  The Ward women appeared to be beaten, but their spirit hadn’t been broken. Some days were more difficult than others, but Nyla refused to be the generation who gave up on the American dream of old—the dream her grandmother had lived, her mother had tasted and she now craved.

  Nyla’s vision of the America her grandmother had experienced as a young girl was shattered as she eased her bubble-shaped car off the empty highway and pulled into the scorching lot. She parked and sat for a moment, looking at the drab prison looming before her. The facility emerged from the desert like a barren concrete island surrounded by a vast sea of sagebrush and unforgiving cacti, teeming with scorpions, tarantulas, serpents and other predators of uncertain intent.

  The prison looked like a mirage as heat vapors from the desert rose in eerie waves, blurring the lines of the surrounding buildings and landscape. Nyla wished the structure was just an illusion, but it wasn’t, it was her reality. Though she was free to enter and depart the dismal fortress as long as she followed the rules, its existence made her feel shackled and desperate.

  “Ignition off. Door unlock. Maximum window tint,” Nyla demanded of her tiny two-door solar-powered vehicle.

  She stepped out of the car and was hit by the stifling heat of a typical July day in southeast New Mexico. The wind blew, but brought no relief as it whipped her shoulder-length blonde hair into a tousled mess and scoured her eyes with dust. No matter how oppressive the heat or how uncomfortable the gusting wind, she would’ve rather stood in the elements all day than go into the Facility, as it was known around town.

  As Nyla approached the bulky gate, she looked down at the scar on her palm and resentment consumed her. She forced rebellious thoughts out of her head and encouraged herself into a positive frame of mind. It wasn’t an easy task, but one she had mastered.

  The gate granted the only access through the wall ringing the Facility. A laser barrier and poison-injecting darts lined the top of the barricade and gate, preventing anyone from attempting to scale the outer wall. To Nyla’s knowledge, no one had ever tried to escape, but she figured the intimidating design had more to do with breaking the spirit of the inhabitants and frightening visitors than preventing anyone from attempting to breach the impenetrable obstacle.

  Nyla passed her hand in front of the scanner’s red eye and the solid-iron gate eased open. She entered and cringed as the gate clicked
shut behind her. She paused, took a deep breath and followed the path leading to a heavy metal door. At this entrance, she stared into the retinal scanner and pressed her thumb into the mold, waiting for her print to be verified and her iris to be recognized. Within seconds the door opened and access was granted.

  She slowly walked the length of the windowless hallway. The corridor was dark and depressing, but climate controlled to provide a gentle transition from the extreme heat outside to the numbing chill of the building’s interior. A familiar musty odor filled her nostrils, making her want to turn and leave the dreary confines of the inhumane space, but duty made her press on.

  Nyla always used the short time she was entombed in the hallway to prepare herself mentally. The sound of her own footsteps echoing through the sterile emptiness created such a lonely sensation that she was able to emerge looking relieved and grateful rather than hostile, which was how she actually felt. But, the facade usually lasted only long enough to elicit a moderately polite response from the monitor and was quickly replaced with feelings of loathing.

  “Have a seat in the waiting room and I’ll let the attendant know to retrieve Rachel from her cell,” stated the woman behind the glass window.

  Nyla wasn’t sure how much longer she could continue to do this, but most of all she didn’t understand why no one else saw how fundamentally wrong the Facility was. The prison held thousands of people who would have been free just several decades ago. Their crimes weren’t crimes. They were simply trying to live the life America claimed to offer and at one time, the country had been exactly that place.