Love Inspired Suspense December 2013 Bundle: Christmas Cover-UpForce of NatureYuletide JeopardyWilderness Peril

by Lynette Eason

  If they weren’t here now and in this situation, he would never talk to her like this. Touch her in such a tender way. It was all wrong. Messed up. And she couldn’t let herself feel anything for him. Couldn’t let her heart go through the hurt.

  In response to his question, she nodded, unable to smile.

  “Of course you’re not. I’m sorry, Shay. Sorry about all of this.” He let his hands fall away from her face and wrapped a finger around a tendril of her short hair.

  What was going through his mind?

  “It was my idea to go with him. I didn’t want you to get hurt over me,” she said. “You don’t need to be sorry. So stop blaming yourself.” She edged away.

  Kemp let one of the men inside and walked back to Shay. “We have a problem with the backhoe and these clowns can’t seem to fix it,” he said.

  She frowned. Why was he looking at her?

  “What’s this got to do with us?” Rick asked.

  “Time to work.” Kemp rounded the counter and scraped a mug from the cabinet to pour some coffee. He grabbed three more. “Shay’s a mechanic.”

  Shay thought he wanted to keep that part a secret so that the men wouldn’t know that she could fix the broken plane. What was he playing at?

  “You know how to fix things, right? People with that ability and training can fix just about anything with the right tools.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t already have a mechanic for all this equipment? How could you make it through the summer without one?”

  “We had a mechanic, had being the operative word.” Kemp scratched the back of his head, appearing to measure his words. “He didn’t get along with a couple of the guys. I think someone shot him.”

  Shay gasped. “You think?”

  “I heard the gunfire. But I didn’t see the body. So I can’t be sure. But he was also the medic. I hated to lose him.”

  Rick stared at Kemp. Shay’s knees buckled.

  Dread fell on her like a cold Alaskan night. What happened if she couldn’t fix whatever the problem was? Would the men decide she didn’t have any value, just as Kemp said? Shay glanced at Rick, searching for his help, for a way out.

  “What sort of problem are we talking about, exactly?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to look at it yourself.”

  Shay examined her shaky hands. How on earth would she work in this cold, hostile environment with deadly pressure bearing down on her? Trying to pull herself together, she thought back to when she first got the job working for Connor. She’d had to prove herself then. She’d had to shove aside her fear and doubts and be strong. Make those men believers. She’d just have to do it again. But this Alaska incident had shaken her to the core. Made her question who she was. What she wanted in life.

  Made her see Rick a lot differently, too. She could almost understand why he held everything inside—how did anyone communicate a terrifying experience like this? Who could possibly understand what they’d been through?

  “Tools.” She pulled her gaze from her calloused, rough mechanic’s hands and looked at Kemp. A stocky man stood behind him. “What have you got?” she asked.

  “They’re in the toolshed. I’ll show you.”

  “And the manual.” Shay cocked her head. “Please tell me you have that.”

  Kemp frowned. “I’ll look for it. Get your coat. The weather’s going to turn nasty in the next few days, maybe hours. There are two storm systems pushing through. We need to make hay.”

  While Kemp ushered the man out the door, Shay headed for the bedroom, but Rick grabbed her arm. “What are you doing? You don’t have to do this.”

  “Don’t I? I think Kemp made it clear that the men are having second thoughts about our presence here. This is my chance to show them I have value. Besides, I thought that was the plan. To work while we figure out our escape. To find the gold so we can leave.”

  “I didn’t mean for the pressure to fall on you. I don’t want you to be the center…” Rick let his words trail off, his expression grim.

  “Of attention,” Shay finished. “You don’t want me to be in the middle of conflict if it turns out that I can’t fix the backhoe and there isn’t any more digging for gold. I understand the risk, but the way I see it, if I don’t fix it, we’re in trouble. And as far as I’ve seen, I’m the center of attention anyway.”

  Creases ran across his forehead, between his brows. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you. I’ll be right there by your side.”

  For the first time in hours, Shay felt the hint of a smile spread over her lips. “If there’s one thing I’m confident about, it’s my own abilities as a mechanic. If this thing is fixable, if we don’t have to order a part, then I can handle it. What I can’t handle are the guns. I can’t work if I think there’s a chance someone will point one at me. That would make anyone a little nervous.” Even if they didn’t have Shay’s experiences, and those were beginning to rack up.

  At her last words, Shay’s smile fell and the creases in Rick’s forehead deepened. Bringing up that incident hadn’t been her intention. It seemed as if it would always stand between them, though.

  After she’d watched her mother gunned down, her father had made sure she knew how to protect herself. Carrying a weapon and protecting herself was one thing; being surrounded by miscreants who were eager to shoot to kill was another.

  Even if she fixed the backhoe, Shay wasn’t sure these men would let them see another day.

  TWELVE

  After visiting the shed full of rusty wrenches and other tools, Shay followed Kemp and his henchman to the broken excavator. There was a chill in the air that warned of a September storm. Whether it was accompanied by rain or snow didn’t matter; Shay wasn’t ready for colder temperatures.

  As she marched with Kemp to the backhoe used for excavating the site, she grew ever conscious that all the men had stopped their work to watch her and to smile or tip their caps—or send her looks no woman wanted.

  Shay opened the manual Kemp had found for her and tried to concentrate on that while she walked. It didn’t work. Thank goodness Rick was beside her, and this time he wasn’t even bound at the wrists. They were going to put him to work, too, knowing he’d comply with her life and Aiden’s in the balance. Doing what, she didn’t know. How long did it take someone to learn how to operate a backhoe? Weeks? Months? But she supposed there was plenty of other hard, backbreaking labor.

  She understood better, too, why they weren’t overly concerned about an escape. Escape to what? Kemp was right in that these men could gun them down and would consider it sport to hunt them if they left. And even if they got away from camp, where would they go? Any sign of civilization was miles away through wilderness that would be difficult to handle even with proper supplies and cold-weather gear.

  That was why that airplane was the only way out of here. Their only chance. And she hadn’t gotten her hands on it to fix it yet.

  A couple of the men leaned against the boom part of the backhoe, blocking her path. When Kemp stepped aside, they held a challenge in their eyes, and something else that Shay didn’t want to think about.

  “Give her some room to work, will you?” Kemp growled.

  He was right in guessing she’d probably be able to figure this out. She’d already been informed the loader wasn’t working correctly. Shay glanced through the manual again. Of course, she knew about hydraulics. Pistons required oil to transmit the force between them. She’d brought a few tools and a container for catching the hydraulic fluid.

  “Let me see it in action. Somebody get this thing moving.”

  One of the men climbed onto the machine and started the ignition. The diesel fumes hit the air again along with a rattling noise. Shay cocked her head and listened. The rattling noise wasn’t why she’d been called over to fix the thing, but it did signal that something else was wrong. She’d address that next. The backhoe operator worked the machine, or tried to, and Shay saw the problem with one of the p
istons. She waved the operator down. He cut the ignition.

  Sucking in a breath, she positioned the container to catch the hydraulic fluid, knowing she’d have to recycle that and use it again. Then she tried to grab a pair of needle-nose pliers. They slipped out of her shaking, sweat-damp hands. The men hovering around her made her too nervous to be steady.

  Inhale…. She had to breathe….

  Shay closed her eyes and imagined herself in the Deep Horizon hangar, working on their planes. The sounds were similar—men’s voices, laughing. Jesting. But then a cold drop hit her face and she opened her eyes to reality.

  She was in Alaska. The sky was getting ready to dump icy moisture in one form or another. That served as a bitter slap to her face, and Shay thrust every other thought out of her mind while she worked. If anything, she needed to prove herself valuable.

  It took her just over an hour, but when she finished repairing the piston, she climbed up into the seat of the backhoe. An image popped into her head of her simply rolling over all the bad guys. Of her and Rick and Aiden escaping. Too bad it wasn’t that simple.

  She caught a glimpse of Rick shoveling dirt to be carted to the trommel, which would break down the dirt into the smallest particles so the gold flecks could be retrieved. She knew because Kemp had gone on and on about his operation last night before she’d finally been left to rest. Rick paused and wiped sweat from his brow.

  When Kemp had threatened to hurt her or Aiden if Rick didn’t comply, she almost thought she heard in his voice that he thought Rick cared about her in a much deeper way. It was probably nothing more than her pathetic imaginings. But she had a feeling something between them had shifted. If Rick ever actually cared about her like that, could she maintain her distance? Could she protect her heart? Could she forget about that afternoon in the office?

  Too many questions. She had to focus. Right now she needed to test her work, and for that she’d need the backhoe operator again, who’d wandered off. In the meantime, she could listen to the engine again. Shay started the backhoe and the diesel engine roared to life. There was that rattle again that shouldn’t be there. She didn’t know what was causing it, but she was pretty sure she could fix it. Before she climbed down, she looked at Rick and saw him watching. Even from this distance, he looked as though he was admiring her, and warmth spread through her insides.

  Rick is not the man for you.

  He had too many issues. Just like her father. They were all stopped up inside of him.

  Grimacing, Shay climbed from the enclosed cab and lifted the hood to see the air filter, radiator and oil. She went through a checklist of the basics but couldn’t find the problem—and her fingers were growing numb. The temperature was slowly dropping.

  She cupped her hands over her mouth, blowing her warm breath on them and rubbing them together. She wished there were a way she could work with gloves on, but her fingers felt too thick when she did that.

  Regardless, her numb fingers had grown clumsy, and they slipped on a jagged edge, cutting her thumb open. She sucked in a hiss and jerked up, bumping her head on the hood. She hadn’t finished the job. She had to finish, or they would think she wasn’t worth keeping. And if that happened, it wouldn’t be just her life on the line. Rick and Aiden were counting on her, too.

  “Aiden.” She huffed his name under her breath. Was he even still alive?

  Shay squeezed her thumb, wiping the blood on the rag, and tightened a few loose bolts. Something anyone could have done if they’d had a mind to. Maybe that would take care of the rattling noise.

  Stepping down, she sat on the step between the front and rear wheel, where she’d laid a few of the tools. A shadow fell over her, turning the gray skies even darker. Shay looked up to see a man staring down at her.

  Joey.

  He had the submachine gun hung across him. He was one of the men who guarded instead of working the mine.

  His lips slid into a nasty smirk. “I’ve never seen a woman mechanic before. Was betting you couldn’t do the job. I see you’re proving me right.”

  For a moment, Shay sat frozen, unable to move, as if his stare had staked her to the spot. What was the matter with her? She forced herself to move. Without taking her eyes from him, she rose to her feet and stepped down to the ground. She slapped a wrench to his chest and he grabbed it without thinking.

  “I get paid a lot more to do my job than you do to do yours.” She climbed atop the tractor, wondering why she’d chosen those particular words.

  She turned the key and the backhoe roared to life. Staring at the levers to operate it, Shay swallowed down her nerves. This could be a big mistake. She didn’t have a clue what she was doing, but she had to try to prove she’d done her job. On a hunch, she grabbed the two joysticks and started moving the three joints of the backhoe as she’d move her shoulder, elbow and wrist. The arm of the backhoe moved just as she’d intended. Her repairs had worked as she’d known they would.

  Shay looked down at the man with a triumphant grin. Others around the camp stopped what they were doing to look at the backhoe.

  A shout rang out across the camp.

  She’d just put the band of criminals back in business and bought her and Rick another day. Maybe.

  *

  While digging and transporting dirt to the trommel, Rick had made good use of his time keeping an eye on Shay but also taking in everything else. His focus was split between watching the men and scanning the buildings, looking for any sign of where Aiden might be kept. Doubts snaked through his core that his brother was even still alive.

  Shay smiled on top of the backhoe—she must be relieved she’d gotten that piece of heavy machinery to work again. He was relieved, too. Things could have turned extremely nasty, and fast, otherwise.

  He’d told her he’d be right there to help her, but Kemp had had other ideas, and Rick was powerless to change his mind about anything. The man was beginning to believe they were going to dig up enough gold in this one season to get him out of the debt he owed. The desperate search for riches clouded his judgment.

  When Shay hopped down from the excavator, she snagged Rick’s thoughts and held on. Longing coursed through him. He scraped his cold-numbed fingers through his hair. He allowed himself to really look at her. He already knew she was an extremely attractive woman both inside and out, as beautiful as she was strong.

  Pulling his gaze from her, Rick thrust the shovel into the ground. She was and would always be off-limits to him. In the past, he’d made sure he didn’t look beyond that tough veneer she kept in place, but their current predicament made that difficult. Things were best left the way they’d always been. He didn’t trust himself enough; why would Shay? Especially after what he’d put her through, nearly pulling the trigger. He hadn’t realized he wasn’t in the desert surrounded by the enemy until it was almost too late.

  No. Shay, or any woman, for that matter, was off-limits. But in this place—the absolute worst place for her—he was losing control over his heart and mind. A severe need to protect her, save her and even be her hero scrambled his thoughts. He wasn’t fit to be anyone’s hero as long as he struggled with this problem he hadn’t even wanted to admit that he had. No one knew about it—that is, except for Shay. Rick paused at the realization—and that made him feel closer to her than to any other person in the world.

  Closer to her than to his brother.

  Shay knew…. She didn’t know the circumstances, didn’t know why he struggled with nightmares he couldn’t escape, but she knew how they affected him. And now he had new fodder for those nightmares.

  She was here because of him. He’d let it happen. Once again, he was incapacitated, made to watch helplessly as others got hurt—others he was supposed to protect.

  Rick looked up at the gray sky, freezing rain kissing his cheeks.

  Why, God?

  Why do I have to go through this again?

  The sky seemed to struggle with a decision of whether or not to completely dump its
contents. What would that do to this group of men, if they were cooped up together indoors with nothing to keep them occupied for too long? They’d kill each other, that was what.

  He would face off with Kemp as soon as he got the chance. They needed to have a serious conversation about what was going to happen if these men didn’t find the gold they were craving. What would happen, then, to him and Shay?

  If Shay was going to fix the plane, it needed to be soon. And if Rick had his way, the only passengers on that flight out would be him, his brother and Shay. He’d have to see how it played out and could only hope they could fly out of trouble in the near future.

  With that thought, Rick glanced up to scan the camp.

  Reconnaissance.

  If the plan to fix the plane didn’t work, what then? There was also the problem that he couldn’t leave without Aiden.

  Where are you, Aiden? Where would he keep you?

  That is, if his brother was even still alive.

  THIRTEEN

  Rick sat atop the backhoe, maneuvering the joystick levers to dig dirt and dump it in a pile. The skill had taken him several hours to grasp and he was still way too clumsy. To be worthy of his hire, it would take him weeks to master this. But thankfully they were too short handed to be picky about his abilities. Regardless of his haphazard maneuvering, the dirt would end up in the jig that pretty much automated the panning-for-gold process.

  Though gray skies loomed, the full brunt of the storm held off, only teasing them with cold sprinkles and threatening them with more. So they continued to work through the afternoon.

  The smell of diesel that fueled the excavator sent his mind back to his time in Afghanistan, to military caravans on backcountry desert roads. His thoughts hovered over the vicious fighting he’d witnessed and participated in as part of his job. You either grew numb in order to survive or your senses were heightened to every sound. Every smell. You turned to God, as had been his case, or you turned to something else. At first, Aiden had chosen the bottle.

  With the men standing around him, a few of them controlling the others with their weapons, he could almost imagine he was in a war zone. He had the sense that these men had shut themselves off from feeling. There was no sympathy to appeal to, no hope that he could convince one of the men to help him. He and Shay were on their own in a situation that was only a step away from descending into pure chaos.