Meltdown

by Gail Barrett

  But how? She couldn’t just stroll away.

  Or could she?

  Wheezing, she pushed the button on her watch to illuminate the dial. Two o’clock. Just a few more hours until dawn.

  If she was going to make a break, she had to do it soon.

  “I thought we were going to stop,” she said.

  Coop halted a few yards ahead of her and glanced around. “Yeah, this looks good. We can rest here for an hour or two.”

  “Great.” She straggled to a stop beside him, her legs quivering so hard she could barely stand. They’d reached a small, flat section of ground near the summit. Boulders walled in one edge of the clearing, creating the perfect cover for her escape.

  Coop set down her knapsack, pulled out the threadbare blanket from the emergency kit, and spread it over the ground.

  “You’d better drink more water,” he said.

  She opened her mouth to argue, but then gave in. The sooner Coop fell asleep, the faster she could leave.

  Trying not to groan, she lowered herself to the ground. She sipped from a bottle of water, then set it aside to leave with Coop. That done, she lay back to wait for her chance.

  Coop stretched out beside her, his big body throwing out tempting warmth, and she bit back a sigh. She could do this. She could lie here with Coop and pretend to sleep. She could ignore the nearness of his body, keep her mind focused on the task ahead—and off that amazing kiss.

  And she could make it to that ghost town and find the flash drive before her pursuers did.

  She wriggled her hips to move a small stone poking her back and stared up at the dazzling array of lights in the sky. “I’d forgotten how many stars you can see in the desert,” she murmured, then yawned.

  She’d forgotten a lot of things over the years. The tender way Coop had teased her. The acceptance she’d felt in his arms. The sheer fun she’d had—flying in Pedro’s planes, clinging to Coop on his beat-up Harley as they raced down the desert roads.

  And when he’d touched her…

  She rolled her head to the side and studied his profile—his high-bridged, masculine nose, the slant of his sculpted cheekbones, the heavy growth of whiskers now covering his throat.

  She’d never known another man like him. He hadn’t cared about her disgraced family. He’d had no expectations of how she should act. He’d simply accepted her.

  He was the only one who had.

  Her gaze lingered on his corded forearms, then traveled back to his sensual mouth. That kiss had brought it all back—the excitement, the freedom, the heady idea that she could push the limits, forget her family’s reputation, and live her life for herself.

  But he’d been right to break off that kiss. They led different lives now. She wasn’t even sure she could trust him. And she definitely didn’t need her hormones distracting her with her grandfather’s life on the line.

  But as she listened to Coop’s breathing deepen in the darkness, more doubts piled inside. If it was right to go on without him, why did it feel so wrong?

  Chapter 6

  Zoe’s scream jolted Coop from sleep.

  He rolled to his feet in a rush of adrenaline, his gun out, his senses instantly alert. Where was she? What happened? He whipped around and scanned the shadows, tension coiled deep in his gut.

  Silence pulsed in the predawn darkness. The cold morning air grazed his face. Barely breathing, every muscle primed to fight, he skimmed the boulders at the edge of the clearing, the sagebrush swaying in the breeze.

  There was no sound, no movement. No sign of Zoe. But he hadn’t imagined that scream.

  He crept toward the hulking boulders, his gaze trained on the night. Had she been injured? Captured? Why had she left the campsite?

  He spun back and spotted the emergency kit by the blanket—but her knapsack was gone.

  His stomach went into a free fall.

  She’d wandered off on her own.

  Disbelief spiraled through him, followed by an explosion of rage. Of all the reckless things to do! He’d warned her to wait until daybreak. Didn’t she understand the dangers out there?

  Judging by that scream, she’d just found out.

  His gut turned to ice at that stark thought. He strode to the boulders, wanting to slam his fist into something, his fear for her out of control. But he couldn’t charge after her blindly. He had to calm down and think this out.

  She would have gone straight across the mountain to the ghost town, which was a mile away behind a ridge. But to reach that ridge she had to maneuver through a minefield of hazards—old cisterns, caved-in mine shafts, dangerous ravines…

  Foreboding swarmed inside him, but he ruthlessly stomped it out. He couldn’t let emotions cloud his thinking. He had to focus on rescuing her fast.

  He hurried back, retrieved the remaining water from the emergency kit, then set out toward the ridge. A rabbit scuttled from his path into the sagebrush. A bird trilled and chattered nearby. He prowled silently down the hill, his gun in hand, scanning the obsidian landscape, past a hut on the verge of collapse.

  Questions thrummed through him with every step. Why had she left? Why had she ignored the dangers? Why hadn’t he realized she’d sneak away?

  Guilt penetrated the anger, and he knew he was partly to blame. He’d underestimated her. He’d misread her level of desperation. He’d figured she’d eventually see reason, realize she couldn’t rescue Shaw alone, and agree to let the authorities take charge.

  But why would she? She thought the authorities were as dangerous as her assailants.

  And what if she was right? What if someone in the government was trying to kill her?

  Quickly rejecting that idea, he crept past some machinery skulking in the shadows and a mound of mine tailings grown over with shrubs. A coyote howled in the distance, sending a chill shimmying up his spine.

  It wasn’t that he trusted the authorities. Just the opposite. He’d had run-ins with the law growing up, butted heads with his superior officers in his career. But Zoe’s suspicions didn’t make sense. Her grandfather worked in a Navy lab. The government already owned his research. They had no need to steal his work.

  He detoured around a prickly pear cactus and shook his head. Nothing about this case made sense. And if he had any brains, he’d get out now. Zoe had just handed him the perfect excuse. He could hike down the mountain, contact Captain Ruegg, and honestly report that she’d escaped while he was trying to bring her in.

  In fact…he could call for help now. This high up he might catch a signal from a cell phone tower. He stopped, tugged Zoe’s cell phone from his pocket, and turned it on.

  A signal bar appeared.

  His heart sped up. This was it, his chance to escape. He could call Captain Ruegg, bring in the cavalry to rescue Zoe, then hightail it back to his job.

  Unless Zoe was right.

  Unless the authorities were involved.

  He hesitated, a flurry of doubts holding him in check. Because the fact was…Zoe was smart. She wasn’t given to outlandish conspiracy theories. If she suspected that the government was behind this, he couldn’t shrug those suspicions off.

  No matter how absurd they seemed.

  And he realized something else. Eight years ago, he’d made a mistake. He’d ignored Zoe’s pleas to talk, refused to find out the truth behind her grandfather’s claims. He’d been so proud, so ruled by the chip he’d carried on his shoulder that he’d refused to believe the woman he’d loved. Instead, he’d walked away.

  He couldn’t make the same mistake now.

  Not with someone trying to kill her. Not with Shaw and that flash drive missing. Not until he could guarantee she’d be safe.

  He blew out his breath and stuffed the cell phone back into his pocket, wondering if that plane crash had addled his brain. Or maybe it was that kiss. Because he sure seemed to have lost his common sense.

  Shaking his head in derision, he started hiking again. Dark mounds appeared in the landscape. Dawn was beginning
to break, turning the sky more purple than black.

  And then a low moan reached his ears. He stopped, his heart hammering fast, and peered ahead. The cool mountain breeze brushed his face. Sagebrush rustled nearby. He waited, listening intently, the deep stillness torturing his nerves.

  But then he heard it again. A groan—coming from somewhere on the left.

  “Zoe?” he called softly. No answer. His pulse quickening, he tried again. “Zoe?”

  “Coop?”

  He closed his eyes. His breath came out in a rush. “Where are you?”

  “Down here, in this canyon. I fell and I can’t get out.” Her voice sounded muffled and strained. And the fear he’d held at bay crashed back full force. Because the thought of Zoe injured…

  He unclenched his jaw and forced a calm into his voice that he didn’t feel. “Hold on. I’m coming.”

  Heading toward her voice, he continued walking until he spotted the canyon’s black slash. Then, careful not to get too close, he knelt and peered over the edge.

  The canyon was narrow, deep, its bottom hidden in darkness. Sheer stone slabs lined the sides. Zoe stood below him on a wooden platform connected to a railroad trestle built to bring ore hoppers out of the mine.

  She looked up, and even from a distance, he could see her fear. “I tried to climb up,” she said. “I made it to this platform, but the rest of the way’s too steep.”

  He studied the angle of the rocks beneath him, and his hopes sank. She was right. She’d never make it out this way. And he didn’t have a rope to pull her up. They might find an alternate route when the sun rose, but they couldn’t afford to wait. If their enemies were anywhere near this mountain, her scream had tipped them off.

  “How does that trestle look?” he asked.

  She turned around. “Not good. It’s falling apart…but I can’t see it very well.”

  Neither could he—but the little he could see looked bad. Still, that trestle was their only hope.

  If it held their weight.

  If it crossed the canyon to the other side.

  If their pursuers didn’t catch up and shoot them first.

  He exhaled. Risky or not, they didn’t have much choice.

  “Stand back. I’m coming down.” He stuffed his pistol into his waistband, shoved the water bottle into his back pocket, then scooted over the canyon’s rim.

  Moving carefully, clinging to weeds and rocks as he scrabbled for footholds, he lowered himself down the cliff. Loose soil rained onto his head. His arms and shoulders shook from the effort it took not to slip. He gritted his teeth, blinking the sweat from his eyes as the platform inched into view.

  Close enough. He twisted around and leaped the final distance, landing with a heavy thud. The impact jolted his knees and made his teeth clack. He sprang back up and turned to Zoe.

  She looked even more miserable close-up. Dirt covered her face. The gauze around her head was gone, her hair a scraggly mess. Her eyes were huge, betraying her fear, despite the determined angle of her jaw.

  And it took every ounce of strength he had not to pull her into his arms and rage at her for endangering herself, for the terrible chance she took. But he bit back his angry words, muzzling his temper with effort. He’d have it out with Zoe when they were safe.

  Still struggling to control his emotions, he studied the rotting bridge. The support beams looked intact—as far as he could tell—but most of the cross boards had disappeared. They’d have to walk on the beams without a handrail, keeping their balance the best they could—like crossing on a high wire over a black abyss.

  He swung his gaze back to Zoe. “Think you can make it over the bridge?”

  “You think it’s safe?”

  No, but what choice did they have? “It’s worth a try.”

  “All right then.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” She lifted her chin, a glint of challenge stealing into her eyes—like the Zoe he used to know.

  “The left side looks the strongest,” he decided. He grabbed on to the support beam and tested the board. “Follow me and step where I do.”

  He started across the beam, holding his arms out for balance, probing the boards for Zoe. The canyon began lightening below him. The sky turned a deep navy blue. He glanced back and watched Zoe hobble across the bridge behind him, her fear obvious in the rising light. “Are you all right?”

  “As long as I don’t look down.” She managed a shaky smile, and another tendril of warmth snaked through his heart. The summer they’d spent together, he’d loved throwing her a dare—watching that chin come up, that glimmer of determination enter her eyes. She’d always been game for any escapade he’d wanted to try.

  Especially in bed.

  Heat jolted through him at that thought, but he clamped a lid on it fast. He wiped his brow on his sleeve, turned his mind back to the beam, checking for weak spots as he crept along.

  The sky continued to brighten. The cool breeze gusted, carrying the scent of dried grass. He edged past the halfway point, and a large section of cross boards disappeared, creating a precarious, four-foot gap.

  “Be careful here,” he warned. “Wait for me, and I’ll help you across.”

  He jumped over the unstable section, stretched back and grabbed Zoe’s hand. She leaped across, then clung to his arm to get her balance back.

  Suddenly, a man appeared below.

  Coop froze. He squeezed Zoe’s hand in warning while his gaze narrowed in on the man. The newcomer had black hair, black clothes and an AK-47 slung over his back.

  One of their assailants.

  He must have heard Zoe scream and entered the canyon from the other side, closer to the road—just as Coop had guessed. But where were the other men?

  Seconds ticked past. Coop stayed immobile, his hand locked on Zoe’s, afraid any motion would tip their pursuer off. The man scoured the floor of the canyon, apparently searching for footprints, then started striding away.

  Coop hissed through his teeth, let go of Zoe, and crossed the last few yards of the bridge. He stepped safely onto the dirt, turned back and reached for Zoe.

  She hurried toward him, her hand extended toward his. But then the beam beneath her feet cracked. The sharp report shattered the silence. Coop lunged out and grabbed her hand.

  The timber swung loose. Zoe stumbled, gasped. He jerked her off the trestle and fell with her to the bank, just as the man below them spun back.

  Gunfire barked out. Coop whipped out his pistol, his pulse chaotic, and shoved himself to his knees. “Run!” he urged Zoe.

  He took aim, fired at the man to pin him down, giving her a head start. Then he rose and raced after Zoe.

  She sprinted up the ridge, limping badly, and ran down the other side. He hugged her heels, plowing through grass and bushes behind her, leaping over cactus and rocks. Their attackers knew where they were now. The sound of those shots would have carried, alerting anyone for miles around.

  They skidded through the cemetery behind the ghost town, dodging tombstones and an old iron fence. Zoe angled across the field, heading toward the saloon, then stopped.

  “There’s a root cellar around here somewhere,” she said, sounding breathless. “That’s where he keeps his supplies. I remember that it’s behind the saloon.”

  She whipped around, searching the area, while he watched for signs of pursuit. “There it is!” She hurried toward a bank of dirt.

  Still keeping a wary eye on their surroundings, he followed her to the root cellar. She reached for the lock on the door.

  “You know the combination?”

  “His birthday. He always uses the same one.”

  The lock sprang apart. Zoe pulled open the wooden door and hurried down a flight of stone steps.

  Coop tramped down the steps behind her into a dim, musty room with a packed dirt floor. Low wooden beams supported the ceiling. Bowed shelves lined the walls. A shovel leaned against a rubber storage container in the corner—Shaw’s supplies.


  Zoe wiped her face on the tail of her blouse and blew out a shaky breath. “That was close.”

  “Close?” Was she nuts? She’d tipped off their assailants and nearly gotten them killed.

  And suddenly he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He stalked over to her, the fear he’d suppressed rising inside. “What the hell were you thinking, running away like that?”

  She stepped back and crossed her arms. “I was trying to help you.”

  Help him? “How? By falling off a cliff?”

  “I didn’t plan to fall. And you’d risked your life enough. I didn’t think it was fair to keep asking you to help.”

  “Not fair?” His grip on his temper slipped. “For God’s sakes, Zoe, I risk my life for a living. Flying jets is dangerous.”

  “But you choose to do that. You didn’t ask to get involved in this.”

  No, he hadn’t asked to get involved. And he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to risk his job, didn’t want to care about Zoe again.

  But damned if he could help it.

  Which meant she was stuck with him, like it or not.

  He leaned closer and grasped her chin, his anger about to explode. He wanted to intimidate her, shake some sense into her, force her to listen to him.

  But the softness of her skin demolished the remnants of his control—bringing back the mind-blanking fear, the terror when he’d heard that scream.

  “Damn it, Zoe.” His voice came out rough. “Don’t ever do that again. Do you hear me?”

  And before he could reconsider, he jerked her hard against him and slanted his mouth over hers. The kiss wasn’t gentle, wasn’t nice—and he didn’t want it to be. He plundered her mouth, ravaged her lips, giving vent to his fury, his frustration, his need.

  He knew he should stop, let her go. They had to get out of here fast. But he drove his tongue in deeper, demolishing any restraint, laying waste to his lingering sense.

  She’d nearly died. He’d nearly lost her—again. And the fierce sense of possessiveness rolling through him, the need to keep this woman safe made his rage burn higher yet.

  He drew back, grappling with his rocketing emotions, knowing he was out of control. “I’m in this thing until I decide I’m out. You got that? And from now on you don’t leave my sight.”