Mountain Heiress: Mountain Midwife

by Cassie Miles

  She remembered the sunny summer day in Denver—the kind of day when you should be taking a puppy on a walk through a grassy green park. “We got the call and responded. It was a fire and an explosion in an apartment complex.”

  “Meth lab?”

  “I don’t know how it happened. Somebody probably told me, but the facts went out of my head.”

  The details blurred in her memory, but she felt a stab in her gut as she recalled the scene in a central courtyard with three-story buildings on all four sides. The smell of grit and smoke and blood came back to her.

  “When we got there, rescuers were pulling people out of the buildings. Other ambulances had already arrived, and a senior EMT had taken charge. He assigned me to triage the wounded while my partner loaded the ambulance and took the more serious burn victims to the nearest hospital.”

  In minutes, her uniform had been covered in greasy soot and blood as she tended to the survivors. First-, second-and third-degree burns. Wounds caused by the shrapnel from the explosion. Someone had fallen down a flight of stairs.

  “That’s when I met Adam. A sweet-faced kid. He was lying on a sheet on the ground, and he didn’t seem to be badly injured. His head was bleeding. The laceration didn’t appear to be deep. When I started working on him, he looked up at me and smiled. He told me his name, and he promised he’d be all right. His exact words were...I’m not going to die.”

  A swell of emotion rose up inside her. She told herself that not everyone could be saved, but that truth did little to assuage the pain of her sorrow. She’d been hurt. God, yes, she’d been hurt. Not by a person but by life.

  When Cole wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, she didn’t object. Her cheek rested against his chest; his solid presence comforted her.

  In a whisper, she continued, “I left Adam. Went to deal with other victims. A woman with a broken leg called out Adam’s name. His mother. Somehow, they’d gotten separated. She was frantic.”

  Rachel hadn’t wasted time trying to calm Adam’s mother. She’d gone back to the boy. His injuries had seemed less traumatic. She’d thought she could carry him and reunite the boy with his mother. “He was dead.”

  She’d tried to resuscitate the child. CPR. Straight oxygen. Mouth-to-mouth. Nothing worked. “I couldn’t bring him back.”

  “Is that when you changed jobs?”

  “Shortly after that.” She shrugged. It wasn’t necessary to talk about the months of debilitating depression and anger. The important thing was that she’d fought her way through to the other side. She’d learned how to cope. “You asked me what I’m afraid of, and this is it. I’m scared of losing someone I care about.”

  “Given that fear,” he said, “you don’t fall in love easily.”

  “No, I don’t.” She lifted her chin. “You?”

  “Not so much.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Let’s get moving. I want to check this place out. Your shoes.”

  She appreciated the lightning-quick change of subject. After baring her soul to him, the last thing she wanted was to wallow in grief. She’d said her piece. Time to move on.

  When she caught his gaze, she wondered if Cole had known this would be her reaction. God, she hated being predictable. “What about my shoes?”

  “Take them off.”

  She raised a questioning eyebrow. “Only the shoes?”

  “Later, I’ll take your socks, your hat and your belt. I’ll unbutton your shirt. Unsnap your jeans.” He rose from the futon. “For now, just the shoes. We’ll take a look around.”

  In her stocking feet, she padded behind him on the concrete floor of the kitchen area in the back of the ice cream parlor. Like the office, there weren’t any windows. When Cole turned on the overhead light, she saw an array of shelves, drawers, stainless steel counters and a commercial-sized sink, as well as machines of varying size and shape.

  “Lily must make her own ice cream,” she said. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

  “Rocky Road,” he said.

  “That figures.”

  He opened the door to a pantry. The shelves were all cleaned out. Likewise for the freezer unit. A closet by the back door was filled with cleaning supplies.

  She asked, “Is there something special we’re looking for?”

  “I’m visualizing. If somebody breaks in here, I want to know where I’m going.”

  “There’s a burglar alarm,” she reminded him. “We’ll have time to escape.”

  “Not if the alarm is short-circuited.”

  She folded her arms and leaned against a counter. “It must be a drag to always focus on the worst-case scenario.”

  “Yeah, yeah, poor me. Living the hard life of an undercover agent. When you walk into a room, you always look for the exits. You check out everybody you meet, looking for concealed weapons.”

  “You sound bored with it.”

  “I’m ticked off. Usually, I’m on my own. Making my own decisions and deciding my own actions. I get a lot of grief for being a lone wolf. And now, when I call on my handler for help, Waxman turns his back on me.”

  The front area of Lily Belle’s was a typical ice cream parlor and soda fountain with sunlight pouring through the front windows onto the white tile floor. The color scheme was—surprise, surprise—pastel. And the far wall was decorated with a fanciful painting of an animal parade. Pink lion with a top hat and baton. A lavender bear in a tutu. Green and blue squirrels blowing bubbles from their trumpets.

  Wrought-iron white chairs and tables were stacked against the walls. Padded stools lined up at a typical soda fountain counter, and there was a long row of empty coolers where the ice cream would be stored in the summer.

  “FYI,” he said, “if we get attacked, come this way. There’s room to hide behind the counter and the coolers. If worse comes to worst, you can bust through the windows. In the back, there’s only one exit.”

  “Lovely.” She smiled at him. “You know what makes me really sad?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Looking at all this, I’m dying for some ice cream. Maybe a fudge sundae with whipped cream on top.”

  “Sounds like you need a little sweetness.”

  He slung his arm around her waist and yanked her toward him with such force that her feet came off the floor. He pressed her tightly against him and kissed her hard. There was nothing tentative about his approach; the idea of making love was a foregone conclusion. He was aggressive, fierce, demanding.

  And she liked it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The creamy pastel ambience in the office contrasted the hot red fire of their passion. Rachel felt like she ought to turn the desktop photographs of Lily Belle’s grandchildren facedown so they wouldn’t be traumatized. Her spirits rose and her excitement soared as Cole tore off her panties.

  Breathing hard, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. Her right leg coiled around his, and she pressed herself against his erection.

  His hand grabbed her butt and held her in place. He arched his neck and tilted his head back. For a moment, she thought he might start howling like a wolf. Then he lowered his head and consumed her with a kiss. His hands explored her body with rough caresses.

  She felt herself turning into a quivering mass of jelly, unable to stand. They slid to the floor. On the pink-and-green patterned carpet, he straddled her and sat back, looking down.

  His body amazed her. Muscular arms. Lean torso. Smooth chest. When she reached toward him, he cuffed her wrists in his grasp.

  “No fair.” She gasped. “I want to touch.”

  “How bad do you want it?”

  She tried to pull her hands free, but he held her wrists firmly. He was in complete control. Or so he thought.

  She widened her eyes and softened her voice. “Please, Cole. You’re hurting me.”

  Concern flashed in his eyes. Immediately, he released his grasp.

  And she took advantage. She rose up and twisted her body, throwing him off ba
lance. Now she was on top. “Gotcha.”

  “You win.”

  He lay on his back with his arms sprawled above his head while she fondled, stroked and pinched. Her fingers glided along the ridges of his muscles. Leaning down, she nuzzled his chest and torso. Her excitement was building to a fever pitch. She didn’t want to wait for one more second.

  “Condom?” she asked.

  “Wallet.”

  She crawled across the carpet to where he’d discarded his jeans. Was it really necessary to stop for a condom? Of course, it was. She gave lectures on the importance of protected sex. She had to do this.

  After clumsy fumbling, she held the tiny see-through package in her hand. “It’s blue.”

  “The only ones they had in super, gigantic, extralarge.”

  He took charge again, and she let him. When he plunged into her, she gave a sharp cry. Her last coherent thought was that this was the best sex she’d ever had. Then she abandoned herself to the sheer physical pleasure of their lovemaking.

  When it was over, she was shivering from head to toe. Not because it was fifty-two degrees in the room. This was a sensual release that had been building in her for years.

  For the first time, she wondered if there might be a future for her and Cole.

  * * *

  COLE WANTED TO SPEND the rest of the day making love to Rachel. Their hideout in the office of the ice cream parlor seemed insulated from the rest of the world. After he converted the futon into a bed and spread out blankets, they were cozy and comfortable.

  He lay on his back, and she snuggled her head against his shoulder. Cuddling had never been one of his favorite things, but he was betting that this cuddle would lead to something more.

  “I only had the one rubber,” he said.

  “That could be a problem.” She rose up on an elbow and looked down at him. “I’m guessing that Lily Belle doesn’t keep a condom supply in her desk.”

  He looked up at her, memorizing every detail. Until now, she’d been so bundled up in turtlenecks and sweaters that he hadn’t been able to appreciate her. From the neck down, she was firm but not too muscular and surprisingly graceful from the arch of her back to the crook of her elbow. Her throat was as smooth as ivory. He liked her short hair; it suited her face. Her high forehead balanced a strong, stubborn jaw. And her eyes? Those big blue eyes sparkled with humor and excitement.

  He already wanted her again. “Would it help if I told you I recently had a physical, and I’m clean?”

  “I give health lectures about bad boys like you. You wouldn’t believe the stories high school boys come up with when they’re trying to get their girlfriends to say yes.”

  “Actually, I’m familiar with those stories.”

  She traced a line down his nose and across his lips. “You and me? We’re not in high school. Nothing you could say would convince me. It’s my decision whether or not I take a risk.”

  They had bigger threats to worry about than unprotected sex. Armed killers could burst through the door at any given moment. He needed to deal with that situation.

  Reaching toward the coffee table, he picked up the cell phone and turned it on. “I want to check in with Pearl and see how she’s doing.”

  “Put it on speaker,” Rachel said.

  Pearl answered right away on her hands-free phone. Her voice was chipper. “I got on the highway with no problem. The snowplows have been out, and I’m making good time.”

  “Any roadblocks?”

  “None that I’ve seen. But there were a whole lot of police cars on the road when I was leaving Grand Lake.”

  “Are you headed to Jenna’s house?”

  “Certainly not. I’d rather camp in the forest than see that lying little snake again. I’m staying with a friend in Denver. She has a penthouse condo in a secure building. We ought to be safe.”

  He was glad to hear that Pearl was taking the threat seriously.

  Rachel piped up, “How’s Goldie?”

  “Sleeping in the car seat, snug as a bug. I might have to stop and give her a bottle, but I want to get out of the high country. There’s more bad weather coming in.”

  “How bad?” he asked.

  “Another eight to ten inches. On the radio, the ski areas are whooping and hollering about great conditions.”

  More snow presented an obstacle. He wanted to drive to Granby tonight, to talk with Jenna Cambridge and take possession of the packages Penny had sent to her. “Take care of yourself, Pearl. We’ll call again later. Don’t tell anyone else where you are.”

  “I understand.”

  “Give Goldie a hug,” Rachel said.

  He disconnected the call and looked toward her. She was sitting up on the futon, wide-awake and alert, with a blanket around her shoulders to keep warm. He asked, “How are you at driving in snow?”

  “Better than you, California boy.”

  “I’m good in a high-speed chase.”

  “What about black ice?”

  “Have I mentioned how much I hate the mountains?”

  “Seriously,” she said, “the highway ought to be okay. The real problem will come when we get to Granby. Side roads don’t get cleared too often. Since Pearl took the four-wheel drive SUV that belongs to Lily Belle, we’re driving her little compact—not the best vehicle for deep snow.”

  “Do you think we can make it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “If we run into trouble, we’re caught.”

  It wouldn’t be too bad to stay here overnight. He and Rachel could find plenty of ways to amuse themselves. “Let’s call your cop buddy and see what he’s found out.”

  Like Pearl, Deputy Jim Loughlin was quick to pick up. Had he been hovering by the phone, waiting for their call? Cole wanted to trust this guy because Rachel did, but he was realistic about the responsibilities of a law enforcement officer. At some point, Loughlin would have to obey orders. His tone was anxious. “Are you all right? Can you tell me if you’re all right?”

  “I’m good.” She gave Cole a sultry smile. “Better than you’d expect.”

  “I went to the address you gave me,” Loughlin said. “You were right. There was blood all over. Bullet holes. Looked like a semiautomatic weapon.”

  “Did you report it?” she asked.

  “I should have, but I didn’t.” He grumbled, “I couldn’t figure out how to tell the sheriff without mentioning that I’d been in contact with you.”

  “Sorry to put you in this position,” Cole said.

  “Not your fault. There’s something about this manhunt that just doesn’t ring true. For starters, Rachel, you’re obviously not a criminal.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “What else bothers you?”

  “The sheriff stopped by to see the baby. By the way, Sarah appreciates those instructions you left behind about breast-feeding. My mom kept telling her that the bottle was better, but Sarah won’t hear of it.”

  “Good for Sarah.”

  Cole told himself to be patient while the deep, rumbling voice of Deputy Loughlin talked about being a new daddy. His chat about breast-feeding made a strange counterpoint to the massacre of the gang, but it was best to let Rachel’s friend take his time.

  “Anyway,” Loughlin said, “there was an FBI agent with the sheriff. A guy by the name of Prescott.”

  Son of a bitch. Cole could think of only one reason why Prescott would be there. He knew about Rachel and wanted to get a lead on her whereabouts. It was looking more and more like Agent Wayne Prescott was a link to Baron.

  Rachel asked, “What did Prescott want to know?”

  “Here’s the funny thing about him. He claimed that he doesn’t know this area, but he used the names of local landmarks. Things like Pete’s Pie Shack and Hangman’s Tree. Stuff you wouldn’t find on a map.”

  “You thought he was fishy?”

  “Something about him didn’t smell right,” Loughlin said. “Then he asked me about you and the clinic. He mentioned your vacation and asked if
we knew where you were going. But he never identified you as the female fugitive. The only name that’s been given is Cole Bogart.”

  She shot him a questioning glance. Bogart wasn’t the name he’d told her; that was his undercover identity.

  Loughlin continued, “You’re both described as being armed and dangerous based on the murders of those three people. But if you killed them, how did you remove the bodies? And why?”

  “Somebody wants to keep the house where they were killed a secret,” Cole said. “Did you check the records to find the owner?”

  “It’s a corporate group called Baron Enterprises. The primary name is Xavier Romero, who happens to be the owner of the Black Hawk casino that got robbed.”

  Cole knew that name, knew it well. Xavier Romero had been a small-time operator in the Southern California gambling scene. He was also a snitch—a likable old guy but shifty as a snake. Cole hadn’t known that Romero owned the casino they hit.

  Deputy Loughlin cleared his throat. “This just doesn’t add up. Why would the gang hide in a house that belongs to the guy they robbed?”

  Xavier Romero had to be in on the plot. Cole asked, “How much does Romero claim was stolen?”

  “Over a hundred thousand.”

  Cole shook his head. “It wasn’t half that much.”

  “The robbery report stated the higher amount,” Jim said, “which means the insurance company will pay out the hundred thousand to the casino.”

  “Unless we can prove fraud,” Cole said. “We need to find that money.”

  “We’re talking about a lot of cash.” The deputy’s voice took on a note of suspicion. “I’ve never met you, Cole. I’m putting a lot of trust in you based on what Rachel says. Don’t let me down.”

  “I won’t,” he promised.

  “Thank you, Jim,” Rachel said. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we know anything else. Give Caitlyn a kiss from me.”

  She ended the call and turned to him. “Is that the answer you were looking for? Is Xavier Romero really the Baron?”

  “Not possible. Romero is close to seventy. A potbellied old man with thinning white hair and thick glasses. His hands look arthritic, but he can make the cards dance when he’s dealing poker.”