by Cassie Miles
His words stung. She’d gotten so accustomed to carrying her briefcase that it was like an extension of her arm. Returning to the kitchen counter, she opened the briefcase, took out her personal cell phone and her wallet and placed them in the pockets of her parka.
“These are mine.” She also had a small makeup case, but she didn’t want to dig through the briefcase to find it. “You can keep the rest. Is there anything else?”
“Be careful what you say to your deputy.”
She ran for the door.
In the hallway outside, Brady stood waiting. Too fired up to wait for the elevator, she grabbed his arm and dragged him down the staircase. She charged through the lobby and burst through the exit door. Outside, the snow had given up for the day. Hazy blue skies streaked behind the snow clouds above the condo complex.
It must have been cold, but she didn’t feel the chill as she stormed down the shoveled sidewalk. Distance—she wanted to put enough distance between herself and Damien that he wouldn’t hear if she exploded. With Brady trailing in her wake, she marched to the end of the sidewalk and climbed over the accumulated snow piled up at the curb. Her boots slipped on the packed ice in the parking lot, but she kept going. If the way had been clear, she would have run for a hundred miles until the anger inside her was spent.
At the next corner, she dug her toe into the snow and climbed onto another sidewalk. Icy water was already seeping through the seams into her boots, which really weren’t made for outdoor activities. They were going to be ruined, and she didn’t care, didn’t care about anything.
Brady caught her arm, bringing her to a sudden halt. “Where are you going?”
“Let go.” She wrenched her arm, but he held tight. “Let go of me, right now.”
“Talk to me, Sasha.”
“I’m in trouble,” she shouted. In the still morning light, those words sounded like an obscenity. “Damien almost fired me.”
Unsmiling, he asked, “How can I help?”
“You can’t. And why would you want to?” She turned on him, unleashing her rage. “You hate my job.”
“There must be something we can do.”
“You’ve done quite enough, thank you very much. You’re the reason I’m nearly unemployed.”
His jaw tensed, and his head pulled back as though she’d slapped him. She knew that she was being unfair. No matter how furious she was, she couldn’t blame Brady. Less than an hour ago, she’d been in his bed, in his arms, coming awake from a dream that reflected their night of lovemaking. How could she stand here and accuse him? What was wrong with her?
“Brady, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Let’s get out of here.”
He placed his hand at the small of her back to guide her down the sidewalk, but his touch didn’t soothe her. She felt empty and alone with no one on her side, no one to help her. She’d been playing with the big kids, and she’d lost.
“I don’t deserve to be fired,” she said, “but Damien has a valid reason. He accused me of breaching confidentiality when I talked to you, and he was one hundred percent right. I passed on information.”
“You never revealed anything that would cause me to suspect Damien’s clients.”
“Technically, it doesn’t matter. I should have kept my big mouth shut.”
Her only hope for redemption was to convince Sam Moreno to change his mind and rejoin the Arcadia partnership.
Chapter Twenty
Before Brady agreed to chauffeur Sasha to the dude ranch to see Moreno, he insisted that they stop for coffee and breakfast. His concern wasn’t to feed her; Jim Birch’s wife always had something fresh from the oven at the dude ranch. Brady wanted Sasha to take her time and calm down.
Sitting in a booth at the Kettle Diner in Arcadia, he wasn’t happy to see her drain her coffee cup in a few gulps. The last thing she needed in her agitated state was caffeine.
He understood why she’d exploded on the sidewalk outside the corporate condo. She was angry. And he knew she hadn’t meant to blame him. She’d been lashing out, and he’d been little more than a bystander. Not innocent, though—he couldn’t claim that his presence had no effect on Damien’s threat to fire her. If Brady hadn’t been there to listen to her privileged information, Sasha never would have been in trouble.
The waitress delivered each of them a plate of banana pancakes topped with bits of walnut, powdered sugar and maple syrup.
Sasha tasted and gave a nod. “These might be the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”
“Are you sure they’re gourmet enough for you?”
“Is that some kind of dig?”
“I’m just saying that you don’t have to sound surprised when the food tastes good. We’re pretty civilized up here.”
“And a little bit touchy.” She gestured with her fork.
“Maybe.” He filled his mouth with pancake, not wanting to set off another eruption. One volcano a day was plenty for him.
Her voice dropped to that low, husky alto he’d come to associate with passion. “I’m sorry, Brady. I’ve already said it once, but I’ll say it again. Sorry.”
“I’m not mad.”
But he was hurt, and he hated that feeling, that weakness. Last night when they’d made love, he’d made the mistake of opening himself up to her. She was more to him than a date or a one-night stand. She was someone he could spend a long time with.
It was pretty damn obvious that she didn’t feel the same way. The possibility of losing her job had broken her heart. Picking up a paycheck at a fancy Denver law firm was more important to this city girl than being with him. Fine, he could live with that as long as he didn’t gaze too deeply into her liquid blue eyes. He could forget what it felt like to hold her in his arms. He shoveled more pancakes into his mouth, trying to erase the memory of her soft, sweet lips.
“I need a plan,” she said. “When I see Moreno, I need to figure out what to say to him. Any ideas?”
“Not really.”
“He’s been following me around, encouraging me to join his group. I’ve got to wonder why.”
“Could be he’s attracted to you.”
“Nope, I don’t get that feeling from him.” She tossed her head, sending a ripple through her blond hair. “A woman knows.”
“Is that right?”
“I knew with you,” she said. “Maybe it was wishful thinking, but as soon as I met you, I knew there was chemistry between us.”
He didn’t want to think about the fireworks when they touched. He focused on the problem at hand. “You’ve spent a lot of time around Moreno, and you’ve seen how he operates. How does he recruit his followers? What does he get from them?”
“Mostly money,” she said. “People pay a lot for his advice. They think they’re going to get rich or become powerful.”
“And what happens when they don’t?”
She leaned back in the booth and sipped her coffee. “I had a long talk with one of his minions. This guy had given up his job and lost his savings to follow Moreno. I thought he’d be angry. But no. He was even more devoted, more willing to hang on for the next big success. He recruited friends and family members to join the guru.”
“Contacts,” Brady said. “Maybe he wants to get close to you because of your contacts.”
“But I don’t know anybody.”
“You work at a big law firm,” he reminded her. “Moreno might want a connection inside your firm.”
She rewarded him with a huge smile. “That’s got to be right. In his eyes, having me at the Three Ss is important. That’s where I’m going to start with him.”
Her sketchy logic made sense, but Brady wasn’t comfortable with it. His gut told him that Moreno was dangerous and not to be trusted.
* * *
BACK
AT JIM BIRCH’S dude ranch, Sasha was pumped and ready to go. Raw energy coursed through her veins. She felt as if she could convince Moreno of anything. Sure, he was a world-renowned motivational speaker who boasted hundreds of thousands of followers. But she was motivated to get through to him.
Unfortunately, Moreno was nowhere in sight. He and a couple of his guys were out riding snowmobiles and ATVs across the new-fallen snow, taking advantage of a break in the weather. Sasha had no choice but to sit and wait at the kitchen table with Jim Birch and Brady.
Birch leaned forward and rested an elbow on the tabletop. With his other hand, he pensively stroked his red muttonchops. “I’m going to take the deal,” he said.
“Big decision,” Brady said. “Are you sure you want to give up the ranch?”
“Moreno is offering a fair price. Not as much as when Westfield was bidding against him. Andrea thinks I could get more, but it seems fair to me.”
“And how does the missus feel about it?”
“She’s already got her bags packed and has made plane reservations to Florida. It’s time we retire.”
Though Sasha tried to stay engaged in the conversation, she couldn’t stay focused. Under the table, her toe was tapping on the floor.
“We’ll miss you around here,” Brady said.
“In the summer, we’ll be back for visits. But to tell you the truth, I’m not looking forward to another winter in the mountains. Life’s too short. Poor old Virgil P. Westfield said he always wanted to retire in the mountains, and now he’s dead.” He shot Brady a glance. “Folks are saying he was murdered.”
“That’s what the sheriff told me this morning,” Brady said. “The Denver P.D. told McKinley about the autopsy results. The killer clunked Westfield on the head and shoved him down the stairs.”
“Did those Denver cops arrest anybody?”
Blake shook his head. “They haven’t even got a suspect. Mr. Westfield was alone in his house when it happened. His body wasn’t found until the next morning.”
Sasha felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t given a thought to the murders all day. “Was it a robbery? A break-in?”
“The alarm system wasn’t on, and the back door was unlocked.” Brady focused a steady gaze on her. “They think it was a professional killer.”
Another possible link to Lauren’s murder. A professional assassin had murdered Virgil P. and stabbed Lauren and climbed into the corporate condo like a ninja. And he—if it was only one killer—was still at large. “When did you talk to the sheriff?”
“While I was waiting for you outside the condo.”
She gave a curt nod, not wanting to think about those moments when Damien had been running her life through the shredder. She ought to be more worried about her personal safety, but all she could think about was her next job interview when she had to explain why she might be fired. If she told her future employer that she was being chased by a ninja, would it hurt her prospects?
She pushed away from the table, went to the sink, dumped the remains of her coffee and rinsed the cup. Through the window she saw distant peaks etched against a fragile blue sky. Sunlight glistened on rolling fields of white snow, unbroken except for the tracks of snowmobiles. There was no other sign of Moreno and his minions.
She couldn’t wait one more minute. Returning to the table, she gave Jim Birch a smile. “Do you have any snowmobiles that aren’t being used right now?”
“I was wondering when you’d ask,” he said. “You’ve been as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. It might do you good to get outside and blow off steam.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Brady said as he stood. “Jim, have you got some heavy-duty gloves we can borrow?”
“You know I do. I keep a stock of everything for the dudes that visit the ranch with nothing more than cute little mittens. Help yourself. You know where everything is.”
Finally, it felt as if she was doing something. She followed Brady’s instructions as he outfitted her in the mudroom off the kitchen. With waterproof snow pants over her jeans, gloves with cuffs that went halfway up to her elbows and heavy boots that were a size too big, she felt as though she was preparing for a trip to the moon. “Is all this really necessary?”
“Baby, it’s cold outside.” He studied her with a critical eye. “You should swap your parka for something heavier.”
“I’ll be fine.” She had her wallet and cell phone in her parka. Not that she was planning to use them. “Is it hard to learn how to snowmobile?”
“It’s kind of like riding a dirt bike.”
With a shudder, she remembered her brother pushing her down the hill outside their house. “The first time I rode a bike, I nearly killed myself.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
Was he beginning to forgive her? Someday things might be all right between them again. But probably not today.
In the dark recesses of her mind, she realized that she might have lost out on the chance to be with Brady. Their relationship had just begun, and it might already be over. She might never make love to him again. She didn’t dare to think about that loss. One disaster at a time. She trundled out the back door behind him, tromping in his footsteps through new snow that rose higher than her ankles.
In one of the outbuildings near the big barn, Brady showed her a collection of ATVs and snowmobiles. “Jim says he keeps these for the tourists, but I know better. When he goes out on a snowmobile, he’s like a big kid with hairy red sideburns.”
“He does have a Yosemite Sam thing going on,” she said. “It’s ironic that his idea of retirement is to leave this place. So many others, like Mr. Westfield, want to live here.”
“Working at a dude ranch is different from visiting.”
She sat on a racy blue machine that reminded her of a scooter with skis instead of tires. “Can I use this one?”
“If it has keys, you can take it.” He picked a blue helmet off the wall and handed it to her. “You’ll need this.”
“Why? Am I going to be falling a lot?”
“Count on it.”
He ran through the basic instructions, showing her how to use the throttle to give more gas and telling her to lean into the turns.
“It’ll take a while for you to get the feel of how fast you should be moving. You need enough speed to go uphill. But you’ve still got to stay in control. Keep in mind that there are rocks and tree stumps buried under the snow.”
She fastened the chin strap on her helmet, started the snowmobile and chugged out the door. As he’d promised, it was fairly easy. By the time they got away from the barn, she was beginning to understand how to ride. As she and Brady went past the corral, a couple of horses looked up disinterestedly and nickered.
Beyond the fences, they hit the wide-open fields. She watched as Brady took off, standing on the floor boards of his snowmobile and flying over the bumps and hills in the field. He let out whoops of pure exhilaration as he swept in a wide circle back to her and stopped, kicking up a spray of snow.
He flipped back the visor on his helmet. “Your turn, city girl.”
“I can do this. I’m not a sissy.”
“Show me.”
As she drove into the snow, the earth seemed to shift under the skis of her snowmobile. She felt out of control and off-balance as she toiled to reach the top of a small rise. And then she went faster. And faster. And faster. The pure sensation of speed hyped her adrenaline as she accelerated over a hill and caught air on the other side. Swerving, she almost turned on her side but managed to right herself.
When she stopped, Brady was right beside her. She flipped her visor up. “This is the best.”
“I thought you might like going fast.”
“I love it.”
“I want to show you a view. Follow me.”
“Right behind you, cowboy.”
Surrounded by unbelievable, spectacular mountain scenery and revved by excitement, she almost forgot why she was here. She wanted a snowmobile. She wanted to feel like this every day for the rest of her life.
While she and Brady swept across the hills, she lost track of time but still had a sense of direction. The landscape was vaguely familiar. The cliff with the cave he’d shown her two days ago was to her right.
Brady was near the edge of the forest when she saw two other riders coming toward her. It had to be Moreno and his henchman. It was time to put on her game face.
He stopped beside her and flipped his visor up. “I’m surprised you’re here, Sasha.”
“I’ve been looking for you.” She lifted her own visor. “In the past couple of days, it seems like you’ve been trying to tell me something. I’m ready to listen.”
“You’re perceptive,” he said smoothly. “I’ve been trying to get you alone.”
She couldn’t tell if this was going well or not. With a determined grin, she asked, “Why do you want to see me? Is it because of my contacts at the law firm?”
“Guess again.”
He wanted to play games? Well, fine. She’d humor him. “You can’t be looking to me as an investor, because we both know I’m a paralegal with a fixed salary.”
“Why would I want to get you alone?”
She glanced over her shoulder toward the forest where she’d last seen Brady. “You want to ask me out on a date?”
Moreno laughed out loud. “I’m a careful businessman, Sasha. I don’t like to leave loose ends...or eyewitnesses.”
His companion flipped up his visor.
She was staring at a face that was branded into her memory and haunted her nightmares. It was him, the man who had killed Lauren Robbins.
Chapter Twenty-One
From the top of a ridge at the edge of the forest, Brady saw her metallic blue snowmobile trapped between two others. It had to be Moreno. Brady had been looking for him and the minions but hadn’t caught sight of them until this moment. The timing bothered him. It was as though they’d been waiting until he was far from Sasha and unable to come to her aid.