Mountain Heiress: Mountain Midwife

by Cassie Miles

  Their tire tracks blazed the first trail through the new snow piling up on the road. He would have worried about being followed if that hadn’t been his intention; he wanted the cops to come to this house.

  “I’m thinking,” she said. “If I stay with the Loughlins, I’m putting them in danger. Those guys who attacked the house are still out there.”

  “The odds are in your favor. Nobody has reason to suspect you’d be with a deputy sheriff.”

  “But if they guess...” She exhaled a sigh. “This isn’t about being safe and smart. Here’s the truth. I want to come with you.”

  He didn’t understand, but he liked her decision. “Because?”

  “Are you going to make me say it?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I care about you, Cole. I can’t imagine being apart from you, sitting around and worrying. Too much of my life has been wasted with sensible decisions. I’m going to follow my heart and stick with you.”

  He couldn’t remember another time when he’d been a heartfelt choice. “I care about you, too.”

  “Besides,” she said, “I can help. You need a partner.”

  “I’ve always worked alone.”

  “Things change.”

  He made the last turn into the driveway outside the house, put the car in Park but left the engine running. He turned toward her. In the dim illumination from the dashboard, he saw her smile. “Clearly, you’ve lost your mind.”

  “Clearly.”

  He unfastened her seat belt and pulled her toward him. “I’m so damn glad.”

  * * *

  WHEN JIM LOUGHLIN pulled up in his four-wheel-drive Jeep, Rachel made a quick introduction. Cole sat in the passenger seat, and she got into the back. During their time on the run, she’d grown accustomed to the way they looked. Their clothes were filthy, bloodstained and torn from catching on branches. Cole’s stubble was turning into a full beard. They might as well have the word fugitive branded across their foreheads.

  Loughlin glanced over his shoulder at her and shook his head. “Hard to believe you’re the same woman who helped my sweet Caitlyn into this world.”

  A lot had changed since then. “How’s she doing? Is Sarah okay?”

  “They’re both great, especially since my mom went home.” He put the Jeep in gear and pulled away from the house where the killing had taken place.

  Cole said, “I appreciate your help.”

  “I’d do just about anything for Rachel.” He expertly swung onto the road. “She seems to like you. That makes you okay in my book. But I’m hoping you’ve decided to turn yourselves in and end this.”

  “I’d like to pack it in,” Cole said, “but we’re still not safe. There’s a traitor in the FBI network. He’s working with Baron, and he’s not going to let us live. We know too much.”

  From the backseat, Rachel said, “We need a favor. You don’t have to say yes. I’m only asking.”

  Loughlin drove for a long minute in silence while he considered. She knew this was a hard decision for him. On one hand was his duty as a deputy. On the other was his innate sense of what was right and wrong. Did he believe in her enough to go along with them?

  In his deep rumbling voice, Loughlin said, “Name it.”

  “We need to get to Black Hawk,” she said. “We have to talk to a man who—”

  “Don’t tell me why. I don’t want to know.” He held up his hand to forestall further conversation. “I can’t take you there on account of I need to stay with Sarah and the baby. But you can use my car.”

  “There’s one more thing,” Cole said. “We need clothes.”

  “You’re right about that,” Loughlin said. “When we get to my house, I’ll pull into the garage. You stay here in the car, and I’ll bring some stuff down to you. I haven’t told Sarah about any of this, and I don’t intend to.”

  “Thanks,” Cole said. “I’d be happy to pay you.”

  “Don’t want your money,” he grumbled. “Use it to make a donation to Rachel’s clinic.”

  She unhooked her seat belt, leaned forward and gave Loughlin a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a good guy.”

  “Or a crazy one.”

  She grinned. “There seems to be a lot of that going around.”

  Settling back into her seat, Rachel realized that she was feeling positive. Crazy? Oh, yeah. Ever since Cole kidnapped her, she’d been caught up in a sort of madness—an emotional tempest that plunged to the depth of terror and then soared. Their passion was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She wanted to be with him forever, to follow him to the ends of the earth, in spite of the peril. The very real peril. She couldn’t let herself forget that they were still the subjects of a manhunt, not to mention being sought by Baron’s murderous thugs. And they were on their way to chat with a snitch.

  None of the other bad boys she’d dated came close to Cole when it came to danger. Why was she grinning?

  She only halfway listened to the conversation from the two men in the front of the Jeep. Cole was telling Loughlin about Prescott’s role as an FBI liaison.

  “He claimed,” Cole said, “that he’d met a lot of people in Grand County.”

  “I recall that some years back there was an FBI agent who talked at a couple of town councils when we had a problem with militia groups setting up camp in the back country.”

  “Can you think of any other connections he might have?”

  “Maybe church meetings. Or Boy Scouts. The idea is to give folks a face—a real live person they can call at the FBI. We do the same thing at the sheriff’s department. Right now, we’ve got a program to get teenagers off their damn cell phones when they’re driving.”

  Rachel had a brain flash. “The high school.”

  “What’s that?” Cole asked.

  “Prescott could have given an informational talk at the high school. I do those programs all the time. The teachers love it when I show up. It gives them a free period.”

  If Prescott had come to Granby High School when Penny was a student there, he could have met her. Through Penny, he might have linked up with Baron.

  In deference to Loughlin’s wishes not to know any more about what they were doing than absolutely necessary, she said nothing more, but her mind kept turning.

  As soon as they were parked in Loughlin’s two-car garage and she was alone with Cole, she said, “What if Prescott met Penny at the high school? Then she introduced him to Baron.”

  “Interesting theory. But I don’t think Penny was a teenage criminal mastermind.”

  “From what she told me and what her mother said, she was wild. The kind of kid who gets into trouble.”

  Instead of pursuing her line of thinking, he grinned. “They say it takes one to know one. Were you a wild child?”

  “I had my share of adventures,” she admitted. “And really bad luck with the guys I dated.”

  “Bad boys. Like me.”

  He left the passenger seat and came around to open her door. In the glare from the overhead light, she realized how truly ratty and beat up his clothes were. In spite of the grime and the scruffy beard, she liked the way he looked. One hundred percent masculine.

  She slid off the seat and into his arms. Looking up at him, she said, “You’re not a bad boy. Dangerous? Yes. But not bad.”

  His long, slow kiss sent a heat wave through her veins. Definitely not bad.

  Before their kiss progressed into something inappropriate, Loughlin returned to the garage with fresh clothing. He set the pile of coats, shoes and clothing on his cluttered workbench against the back wall and turned to Rachel. “Could I talk to you in private?”

  She went with him through the garage door into a back hallway. “What is it?”

  He took both her hands in his and leaned down to peer into her eyes. In a low whisper, he asked, “Is this really what you want? To go with Cole?”

  “Yes.”

  “Rachel, you could get hurt.”

  “It’s worth the risk. Cole
is worth it.”

  “You just met this man a couple of days ago,” Loughlin said. “You’ve only known him for a matter of hours.”

  But she wanted to believe that Cole was the man she’d been looking for all her life. She’d gone through a string of losers—so many that she’d almost given up on men altogether. If she didn’t take this chance, she’d regret it. “I’m sure.”

  He pulled her into a bear hug. “I trust your instincts, girl. Try to be careful.”

  “I will.” His concern touched her. He and Sarah and their baby were like family to her. “Your friendship means a lot.”

  “Just don’t wreck my car. Okay?”

  She returned to the garage to find Cole dressed in fresh jeans and a cream-colored turtleneck. Though Loughlin was heavier than Cole, they were the same height. The new outfit was a decent fit.

  “A major improvement,” she said. “Except for the scruffy beard.”

  “I thought you liked the rugged mountain-man thing.”

  “But you’re not a mountain man. You’re a clean-shaven dude from California.”

  “Apparently, your friend thinks so, too.” He held up an electric razor. “I’m not sure if I should shave. The cops have probably circulated ID photos of me. I don’t want to be recognized. On the other hand, a beard could attract closer scrutiny. It’s an obvious disguise.”

  She hadn’t considered photos. “Will they have a picture of me?”

  “It’s possible. But, as you pointed out before, a lot of people in this area know you. If they saw your photo, they’d suspect something was wrong with the manhunt.”

  “I hope you’re right. There’s nothing I can do with my short hair except put on a wig or a hat.”

  He held up a wool knit Sherpa hat with ear flaps. “Ta da.”

  “I love these.” She grabbed it and put it on. “Mmm. Warm.”

  “Warm and damn cute.” He gave her a grin. “I was thinking about your theory of Prescott meeting Penny at the high school.”

  “And?”

  “What was the first thing he asked when he found us?”

  He had wanted to know about Goldie, wanted to know that she was safe. His concern for the infant was apparent. “The baby.”

  “Why? Why would that be his first question?”

  “He could be the father.”

  Agent Wayne Prescott might be Baron.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As they drove to a lower elevation, they left the snowstorm behind. Rachel gazed through the passenger-side window at pinprick stars in the clear night sky. Leaning back in the comfortable seat, she listened to the hum of the Jeep’s tires on clear pavement. The only sign of the blizzard that had paralyzed Grand County was a frosting of white on moonlit trees and the rocky walls of the canyon leading to Black Hawk.

  The more temperate weather had an obvious effect on Cole, the California guy. His mood was more contemplative. His death grip on the steering wheel had relaxed. The worry lines across his forehead smoothed, and he was almost smiling. With his left hand, he massaged his clean-shaven jaw. Losing the beard made him appear less ferocious and more handsome.

  Jim Loughlin had been right when he said she didn’t know much about Cole. Even when they were making love, he hadn’t talked about his past. Did she want to know? Did she really want to see Cole as more than a casual affair?

  Connecting to him on a deeper level was dangerous. He hadn’t represented himself as relationship material. Sure, there were the occasional hints that he’d like to see more of her. But nothing he’d said—not one single word—resembled a commitment.

  On the other hand, she had taken the ultimate risk when she had unprotected sex with him. Caught up in the whirlwind of their passion, she’d made that decision. Maybe not the smartest thing she’d ever done. Didn’t she give lectures to high school classes on exactly this topic? No condom means no sex.

  She’d broken her own rule.

  For the first time.

  Wow.

  With other boyfriends, even men she thought she was in love with, she had never once taken that chance. Clearly, there was something special about Cole and she needed to know more about him.

  Clearing her throat, she asked, “Did you grow up in California?”

  “Mostly.”

  Not a very revealing answer. She’d have to be more specific. “Where were you born?”

  “Vegas.”

  Now they might be getting somewhere. Cole was in his thirties. When he was born, Las Vegas had been more decadent and edgy than it was now. “Did your parents work in the casinos?”

  “Nope.”

  Another one word response. Great. “How long did you live there?”

  He turned his head toward her. Moonlight through the windshield shone on the sculpted line of his jaw. “There’s no need for you to go on a fishing expedition. If there’s something specific you want to know about me, just ask.”

  “I’m curious,” she said. “I want to get an idea of where you came from. How did you grow up to be an undercover FBI agent? What were you like as a kid?”

  “I always played with guns.” He grinned. “My mom wouldn’t let me or my younger brother bring our violent toys into the house. She was a pacifist. A grade school teacher.”

  “And your father?”

  “Dad was a preacher in Vegas—a reformed gambler who started his own church. I can’t remember the name of it, but there was a lot of ‘repent and be saved’ going on.”

  “You were a preacher’s kid.” She wouldn’t have guessed that background. “If the stereotypes hold true, that means you were either annoyingly perfect or a holy terror.”

  “I didn’t have time to get settled into either personality. I was only five when my parents split up. Marrying my mother and having kids went along with Dad’s preacher identity. But it didn’t last.”

  “He went back to gambling,” she guessed.

  “It turned out that he had a lot of loyal followers, and they donated bundles of cash to build a new rec hall for the church. Dad thought the Lord might help him find a greater contribution in the casinos. Apparently, God was looking the other way.”

  “He lost the money.”

  “Not all of it, but a significant portion. The crazy thing was that he admitted what he’d done, and his followers forgave him. Mom wasn’t so easy to con. She divorced him and moved us to Los Angeles.”

  “Did your dad stay in Vegas?”

  “For a while. After he paid back the money, he handed over the church to his assistant and devoted himself full-time to gambling. He does okay. He paid child support and stayed in touch with the family. Whenever he showed up, he always had big extravagant presents.”

  She was beginning to have a context for understanding Cole. “Were you more like your dad or your mom?”

  “I’ve got a bit of the con man in me,” he admitted.

  “Which is why you’re so good at going undercover.”

  “But I get my sense of fair play and loyalty from my mom. I never once heard her say a bad thing about my father. She remarried several years ago and moved to Oregon.”

  “And your brother?”

  “He’s a fireman. Happily married with two little girls whom I love to spoil.”

  “By showing up with big extravagant presents?”

  He shot her a glance. “I never thought of it that way. Maybe I’m more like my dad than I realize.”

  “Do you gamble?”

  “I’m a hell of a good poker player, but I don’t have the sickness. I hate losing too much.”

  They were on the last curving stretch of road through the canyon that led to Black Hawk. The roads were pristine—well-maintained by casino and hotel owners who wanted to make the trip easy and smooth.

  “What we’re doing right now is a gamble,” she pointed out. “You’re taking a chance on being recognized at a casino where you committed a robbery.”

  “I was wearing a ski mask. Nobody saw my face.”

  “What
if the police put out a photo of you?”

  “I’ve got new identification from the papers I had sewn inside my leather jacket.” He shrugged. “If somebody thinks they saw me before, I can talk my way around it.”

  She wished she had half his confidence. If somebody accused her of being one of the fugitives the FBI was looking for, she’d fall apart. “And what should I do?”

  “Say as little as possible. I’m going to introduce you as my associate, even though most FBI agents tend to wear more conservative attire.”

  The clothing she’d borrowed from Sarah Loughlin was a size too small. The jeans hugged her bottom, and the pink knit top stretched tightly across her breasts. Even the lavender parka was fitted at the waist. Rachel missed her oversize practical parka. “Too cutesy?”

  “Not if you put on the cap with the ear flaps.”

  “Then I would definitely be too dorky,” she said. “Should I have a different name? Can I be Special Agent Angelina?”

  “It’s better if you have a name you can relate to. Do you have a nickname?”

  “My youngest brother calls me Rocky.”

  “Short for Rachel. I like it. For the last name, let’s use the street where you lived as a kid.”

  “Logan. Call me Special Agent Rocky Logan.”

  He grinned. “Xavier thinks my name is Calvin Spade. I met him a long time ago, probably eight years, when he was involved in an illegal gambling operation in Culver City. I went in as a card shark, and I did okay in a couple of tournaments. Then I recruited Xavier as a snitch.”

  She was beginning to feel apprehensive. “I’ve never been good at lying. Maybe my identity should be something more familiar. Like a nurse.”

  He reached over and stroked her cheek. “Don’t try to play a role. Just be yourself. Go along with whatever I say.”

  “Roll with the punches.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  The lights of Black Hawk glittered against the dark slopes and the surrounding forest. Extralarge new casinos and parking structures bumped up against the older buildings that had been part of the historic town before limited stakes gambling was legalized here and in neighboring Central City.

  Xavier’s casino—the Stampede—was at the quiet end of town away from the new casinos. Cole parked at the far end of the half-full lot. On a weekday night at eleven o’clock, there weren’t many cars.