by Gail Barrett
Her face flushed, her eyes flashing fire. He knew she didn’t like taking orders.
Too damned bad.
She jerked away and stalked across the cellar toward Shaw’s supplies, and he knew she’d gotten the point.
And so had he.
He was in this gig for the duration.
No matter what the cost.
Chapter 7
Zoe hobbled across the musty root cellar, furious at Coop’s high-handed manner, still reeling from that torrid kiss. Excitement rippled through her. Her pulse skittered like water in a broiling hot pan. The feel of his mouth devouring hers, the low, male growl he’d made deep in his throat had ignited a torrent of hunger, making her so turned on she could hardly walk.
She shivered, fighting to control the erotic sensations, to ignore the lingering feel of his lips. Thrilling or not, she couldn’t let him boss her around. This was her problem, her grandfather who was missing. But it was hard to drudge up any resentment when she ached to fling herself into his arms.
She gave her head a hard shake, trying to forget the kiss, forget the desire sweeping through her, forget Coop’s annoying tendency to take charge. None of that mattered—not with those would-be killers close by.
That grim thought scattered the lust, jerking her back down to earth. Determined to stay firmly grounded, she swept her gaze around the shadowy room. If her grandfather had done what she suspected, he’d placed the flash drive inside a container—a cache—and hidden it near his supplies.
She limped around the room on her tender ankle, scanning the hard dirt floor, the dusty, wooden shelves lining the walls, the low, timber beams overhead. But the cache was nowhere in sight.
Panic spurted inside her, but she made herself stay calm. The flash drive had to be here. She’d already searched everywhere else—his office, his apartment, the lab.
She double-checked the shelves, peered behind the storage tub—and then she saw it. A fake rock in the corner on the floor.
“I found the cache.” She rushed over and picked it up, then pulled the plastic sides apart.
The flash drive wasn’t there.
Her heart took a sickening nosedive. She stared at the cache—empty except for a folded sliver of paper—in utter disbelief.
It wasn’t there. After all she’d been through. She’d been shot at and chased by gunmen, suffered a plane wreck she’d barely survived. And she only had eighteen hours left to pay that ransom. What on earth was she going to do?
“Do you have the flash drive?” Coop demanded from behind her.
Her heart plunging at the thought of Coop, she forced herself to meet his eyes. He stood where she’d left him by the steps, covered in dust, his expression forbidding.
He was about to get even more annoyed.
Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she looked down at the empty cache—the cache they’d risked their lives to find. “No. It’s not here.”
Silence pulsed between them. Still clutching the cache, she closed her eyes, unable to believe she’d been wrong. She’d been so sure…
“Where is it?” he finally asked.
“I don’t know.” It never occurred to her that it wouldn’t be here. “But he left a note.”
She set the fake rock on the shelf and unfolded the paper. Coop joined her from across the room. He leaned over her shoulder, his nearness adding to her nerves. Her grandfather’s note made her hopes sink even more.
He’d written down two sets of letters: Se, C, Au and H, Cr, Cl.
“What does that mean?” Coop asked.
“It’s an offset cache.”
“Meaning?”
She grimaced, reluctant to break the bad news. “He hid the flash drive in a different location. These letters are a clue to where it is…like a puzzle or a scavenger hunt.”
He shot her an incredulous look. “He’s playing a game when his life’s at stake?”
She shrugged, unable to fault his outrage. Of all the times for her grandfather to create a puzzle, this was the worst.
“He knew he was in danger, that people were following him. He probably worried that this cache would be breached. And he knew I’d understand these letters. They’re symbols from the periodic table of elements. It’s a game we played when I was young.”
Which meant he’d set this up, made it easy for her on purpose—because he wanted her to find that cache. But then why not confide in her from the start? Why not tell her about his troubles instead of making vague, paranoid comments that didn’t make sense? And why put her in this terrible danger, leaving her to fend off her attackers alone?
“We can’t take time to look,” Coop said. “Those men know where we are now. We’ve got to get out of here before they block our escape.”
He was right. Those gunmen would catch up at any time.
But how could she leave without the flash drive? If she didn’t hand over the ransom, her grandfather would be killed.
“I just…I’ll look through his things, just in case.” He wouldn’t have put the flash drive there—it was too obvious—but if he wanted her to find it, he’d have left a GPS. She stuck the paper in her pocket, knelt by the rubber tub, and made short work of the lock.
“He keeps an all-terrain vehicle in the shed by the saloon,” she told Coop. “It’s how he gets around out here. The key should be taped to the bottom of that gas can.” She angled her chin toward a plastic can beside the tub.
Her grandfather had spent years exploring this area, first hunting for fossils and minerals, later geocaching when that hobby came into vogue. And each time he’d come, he’d added to his supplies. She opened the lid, and the sight of his familiar canvas backpack gave her another jolt. She closed her eyes and sent up a silent entreaty that he be safe.
Coop reached into his pocket, pulled out a bottle of water, and unscrewed the cap. While he drank, she searched through her grandfather’s supplies—his sleeping bag and flashlights, books about minerals and rocks. As she’d expected, the flash drive wasn’t there. But she did find the handheld GPS.
Because she’d lost her knapsack in the canyon, she stuck the GPS into her grandfather’s bag. Then she rose, took the water Coop offered and guzzled it down her dry throat. She gasped for breath, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and took another heavenly pull. The water was stale and hot, and she’d never tasted anything so good.
Coop stuffed her grandfather’s bottles of water into the backpack along with the flashlights and tossed it over his back. “Grab the gas can, and let’s go.”
“All right.” Her thirst marginally less desperate, she rose, threw the empty bottle into the tub, and grabbed the plastic can. Her ankle throbbed as she crossed the room behind him, but she ignored the pain. They couldn’t afford to slow down.
Coop paused at the bottom of the stairs and raised his hand, palm out. “Stay here until I’m sure it’s clear.” He tugged out his gun and crept up the steps.
Zoe waited, her gaze on Coop’s dusty flight boots, her thoughts swinging back to those men. Where were they? Who were they? And how were she and Coop going to get down the mountain without running into them?
“Come on up,” Coop called softly.
She hurried up the stairs and into the open air. Feeling exposed now, vulnerable, she glanced around the hill behind the town.
The sun was steadily rising, turning the sky a brighter blue. She scanned the dried brush dotting the hillside, the ramshackle wooden buildings that comprised the abandoned town. She slid a wary glance in the direction of the canyon and suffered another attack of nerves.
Those gunmen could be anywhere—over the ridge, lurking in the wooden buildings, preparing an ambush on the road out of town…
“We’re dead meat if they’ve got the high ground,” Coop muttered, echoing her thoughts. “Come on.”
He set off toward the shed, and she hurried behind him, crunching through the tall, dry weeds. Still favoring her tender ankle, she stepped over scattered boards and broken
glass, trying not to make any sound.
Coop stopped behind the shed. She squeezed in beside him, her breath shallow and fast. He leaned closer, his warm arm brushing hers.
This close she could see the black lashes fringing his eyes, his irises shot with pewter sunbursts, the beard stubble roughening his bronzed skin. Even filthy, with his hair uncombed and dusted with dirt, he appealed to her too much.
“Wait here,” he mouthed.
His gun raised, he crept through the weeds, keeping his back to the saloon. And she was intensely grateful he was here. Because if he hadn’t rescued her from that canyon, if she’d had to do this alone…
Coop peeked through a broken window, then inched around the front of the building toward the dirt road winding through town. A few seconds later, he jogged back.
He set the backpack beside the shed. “Is the ATV in there?”
“It should be.”
“Top off the gas tank and get it ready to go, but keep it inside the shed. You stay in there, too, where you won’t be seen.”
“Where are you going?”
“To sweep the area, see if I can locate those men. I don’t want to drive into an ambush.”
“But what about the flash drive?”
“We don’t have time to look.” He started for the saloon again, then shot her another hard stare. “I mean it, Zoe. Stay inside the shed until I get back.” He edged around the saloon and disappeared.
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, glancing at the empty ridge behind her, then the gray, weathered buildings on either side. First things first. She unlocked the shed and pulled the backpack inside.
The shed was stuffy and small, her grandfather’s old ATV taking up most of the space. Leaving the door partially open for light, she twisted off the gas cap and filled the tank, making sure nothing would block their escape. Then she secured the gas can to the rack behind the seat with a bungee cord, and put the key in the ignition, ready to go.
She peered through the crack in the open door at the hill behind the shed. No sign of Coop or the gunmen yet. Since she had time, she pulled out her grandfather’s message and studied the symbols again: Selenium, carbon, gold. Hydrogen, chromium, chlorine.
She frowned, thinking hard. The elements didn’t form a pattern. They weren’t in their order on the periodic chart. But they had to mean something. Her grandfather had wanted her to figure this out.
And he was the most methodical person she knew. He didn’t do anything by chance—unlike Coop. Coop lived for the excitement of the moment, did everything fast and hard. He was unpredictable, exhilarating, thrilling.
She pushed away that unruly thought, returning her mind to her grandfather’s code. Each of the symbols had an atomic number. Selenium was thirty-four, carbon six, gold seventy-nine. And because this had to do with geocaching… The first set might indicate latitude, the second longitude. The degrees wouldn’t change—that would take her too far from the ghost town—but if those numbers represented minutes and seconds…
Her heart drumming, she dug through the backpack and retrieved the GPS. She checked her current position, then punched in the new coordinates and stilled. The cache was close by—only a hundred feet to the south, fifty yards to the west.
She widened the crack in the door and peeked out. Nothing moved on the hillside. She stepped outside, turned to survey the buildings to the west—the blacksmith’s shop, the brothel, the stable…
Her heart skipped. That was it. The mine shaft in the stable. The one she’d fallen into as a kid—where she’d broken her arm. Her grandfather had nailed it shut for safety, even placed a bench on top, so few people knew it was there—except for her. And it was the perfect place to hide the cache.
She hesitated, knowing Coop would be furious if she left. But it wouldn’t take long, only minutes. She could hurry over, grab the cache, and come right back.
Assuming those gunmen didn’t kill her first.
She pressed her palms to her thighs. It seemed a terrible risk to take, even foolhardy, with those assassins prowling the hills. But she needed that flash drive to rescue her grandfather and prove his innocence—and her own.
Weathering the scandal about her parents had been hard enough. She’d been fourteen when her world had exploded. In an instant, she’d lost her family, her place in society, and had become a pariah to all her friends. Everyone thought her parents were traitors. People had taunted her, shunned her, harassed her. She’d spent years trying to prove her family’s innocence, fighting the unfair rumors and lies.
Her grandfather had suffered, too. He’d lost important contracts at work, nearly gotten fired from his job. And neither of them would survive another scandal that bad. She had to put a halt to these new rumors and prove their innocence. She owed it to her parents, her grandfather, herself.
Her mind made up, she closed the door of the shed to hide the ATV. Sparrows chirped from a nearby rooftop. A jackrabbit bounded through the brush. She slid the backpack over her shoulder, screwed up her courage, then dashed to the building next door.
She stopped behind it and gasped for breath. Ignoring the pain battering her ankle, she tiptoed to the corner of the building and checked the road. Still nothing. She raced to the next building over and stopped again.
Knowing she couldn’t waste precious time, she double-checked the coordinates on the GPS. But she had no doubt. The cache was in the stable. And she only had a few yards to go.
She cast another nervous glance at the hillside, then darted to the stable and slipped inside. She quickly moved away from the doorway and scanned the row of wooden stalls. Beer cans littered the ground. Leather bridles rotted on pegs. The hayloft door hung open above her, tapping rhythmically in the breeze.
She waited for another moment to make sure she was alone. A pigeon cooed and fluttered above her. The hayloft door kept banging, heightening her unease. She crept down the aisle, her nerves jittery, her head swiveling from stall to stall.
And then she spotted a man—lying prone on the ground.
She halted abruptly, her hands suddenly clammy, the hair on her arms erect. If that was Coop…
Panic seized her. She forced herself to step forward, her gaze fastened on the unmoving boots.
Then an arm shot out, grabbing her from behind. She slammed back against a hard chest. She instantly sprang into action, twisting, jabbing her elbow back, but couldn’t shake him loose.
He tightened his arm under her rib cage and clamped his other hand over her mouth. Unable to breathe, desperate to get free, she stomped down hard on his foot.
“Damn it, Zoe. It’s me,” he rasped.
Coop. She stopped, sagged in his arms. Relief billowed through her, weakening her knees.
“Be quiet,” he warned, his breath warm on her ear.
She nodded, and he relaxed his hold. She staggered away, then collapsed against the stall, trying to slow her rocketing pulse.
She turned back, met his eyes burning black with anger, the forbidding slash of his mouth. He’d acquired more weapons, and had a rifle slung over one shoulder, another pistol tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He looked lethal, as dangerous as their attackers, and an unsettled feeling slid up her spine.
And more doubts whispered inside her. Exactly how well did she know this man?
“I told you to stay put,” he gritted out.
“But I know where the flash drive is.”
“And I told you we don’t have time. They’ve blocked the road to town.” He nodded to the man lying on the floor. “I found him outside, heading for the shed. And he’s commed up—he’s got a radio. When he doesn’t answer, the others will come to check.”
Her stomach lurched. “Is…is he dead?”
“Unconscious. But not for long. We’ve got to get out before he comes to.”
“Who is he?”
“I was trying to find that out when you showed up.”
He strode back to the man and dropped to one knee. Then he searched
the gunman’s back pockets, rolled him over, and did the same to the front. “No wallet.”
He rose, pulled a cell phone from his pocket, and turned it on.
She blinked at the phone in his hands. “That’s my phone.”
“Yeah.”
“But where—”
“Later.”
Stunned, wondering why he hadn’t told her he’d found her phone, she watched him photograph the man. Coop was right; this wasn’t the time for questions.
But she wasn’t going to let the subject drop.
He stuffed her phone back into his pocket, then tilted his head toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
But how? If those men had the road blocked…
She hesitated, searching her memory of the terrain. Aside from the sole road cutting through town, the only way out was over the mountain, the way they’d come. Unless…
“Wait. There’s a mine shaft in the back of the stable—the one I fell into.” Where her grandfather had hidden the flash drive. “It might lead us out.”
“Show me.”
She nodded, hurried past the remaining stalls. “It’s right there, under the bench. He nailed one end down.”
Coop made his way to the bench, then grabbed the end and pulled. He stopped, studied the ground, shifted position and tried again. His biceps bulged under the sleeves of his T-shirt. The hollows of his cheeks turned taut.
The bench creaked, then rose, pulling open a small trap door. Zoe bent over the hole and peered inside.
A wooden ladder led into the tunnel. “This is new. He must have installed this when he hid the flash drive.”
Still holding up the bench, Coop spared her a glance. “You have the flashlight?”
She dug the flashlight out of the backpack and turned it on. “I’ll go first.” That way, if anything happened, Coop could pull her out.
She scooted over the opening and started down. The air grew cooler, mustier, as she descended. The dank, stone walls of the tunnel appeared.