She scrunched the pillow in her fists and dropped it next to him before climbing to her feet. Ignoring the wave of weakness that turned her legs to Jell-O, she shuffled to the window and pushed the thick curtains aside.
Night was falling over Denver. Lights twinkled in multicolored profusion. “I missed the entire session.”
When she turned back to the room, Riggen’s eyes caressed her.
“I’ll be surprised if Kimberly has any confidence in me now.” Her voice broke and she threw her hands in the air. “I didn’t show up for opening night.”
How could such a large man move without a sound? One moment he sat watching, the next he towered over her, holding his arms open wide. She took one tentative step forward and he pulled her against his warm chest. When his arms circled her, her anxious energy dissipated.
“Shh,” he whispered against her hair. “They’ll understand when you explain.”
The familiar smell of his skin enveloped her, and she relaxed in his strength. His heart pounded under her wet cheek, a steady boom-boom-boom of comfort.
She leaned back and wiped her tears with her sleeve. “Lucas depends on me. If I don’t get this job, what am I going to do?”
He pulled another tissue from his pocket and this time she took it. “You’ll figure it out.”
Every muscle tensed. She pushed away. “What did you say?”
He blinked, confusion entering his eyes. “You’ll figure it out?”
Their entire history avalanched in her mind. His promise to love her forever. His disappearance. Lucas’s birth.
Riggen had left her to figure things out alone and she’d never been able to stop. Not even for a moment. The weight of it pressed down on her. She shoved it away. Everything was so turned around, and she couldn’t think clearly. Not with him so close.
As she backed away and breathed air that wasn’t scented with his cologne, the avalanche settled. Her mind rested on reality. Lucas is depending on me...
“You can pretend you care, but the only reason you’re holding me close is to get closer to Lucas. At the end of the day, you still want to drop responsibility on my shoulders. Lucas deserves more than that. I deserve more than that.”
“Whoa.” Riggen threw now-empty arms up. “That’s not what I meant. I’d love to be involved in your lives but how can I ever prove that to you when you won’t give me the chance?”
She turned away, unable to bear the defeat in his eyes but equally unable to fight the terror that was slithering into her heart. If he’d wanted to be there for her, he would never have left in the first place.
She turned away, “I don’t know if you can.” She didn’t turn back around until the room door clicked shut behind Riggen’s retreating back.
* * *
Her bedsheets were a crumpled mess from tossing and turning all night. Liz pushed aside the feather comforter and heaved her aching body from her hotel bed. Morning was creeping up on the mile-high city. She might as well give up on sleep.
Her reflection flashed in the large mirror hanging opposite her bed. Sporting a huge gash over her right eye and pretty impressive bruising, she was beginning to look exactly how she felt—like someone’s punching bag.
The clock on her bedside table blinked 5:00 a.m. She didn’t have to be at the convention center until seven and the lack of sleep had her queasy stomach in overdrive. Right now, she was faced with one choice and it wasn’t whether to go back to bed. She needed to find breakfast.
But could she stomach eating with Riggen? She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the beat-up woman in the mirror. “You don’t know that he’s only sticking around for Lucas.” The bruised woman shook her head. “And you don’t know that he isn’t.”
She gulped in air and lumbered to the bathroom. There was no point standing around and debating things she could never be certain about. Never. She twisted the faucet and released her lungful of air in one long, steady stream.
She splashed water on her face and neck then jolted upright. What about when she’d been in his arms? He’d seemed steady. Reliable. Caring?
She scrubbed her face and toweled off the water. What about his eyes when he’d pulled to the side of the road after Rainbow Falls? His concern had been directed at her and Lucas. Could Riggen be that good of an actor? Just to be a part of his son’s life?
She pulled her brush through her tangled hair before wandering back into her room. The paisley walls drew closer as she pulled on black slacks and a white cotton top. She needed fresh air.
Slipping her feet into patent-leather pumps, she grabbed her phone and texted Riggen.
Need fresh air and breakfast. You awake? Don’t want to go alone.
She tossed her phone into her purse. Would she actually go alone? No. And the admission galled her. How was she supposed to climb back into her armor with Riggen watching her down coffee and biscuits? She needed to pull herself together.
Her foot tapped against the plush carpet. The thought of going without him inched her toward the closed door but she stopped. Took a step back. Sank into the red armchair. Going alone was not a good idea.
Her phone tickled her thigh, its ringtone tinkling from her closed purse. She stuffed her hand in and dug around. Her stomach growled loud enough to be heard three floors below. She pulled the phone out. It wasn’t Riggen.
It was Kat. Had something happened? California should still be in the throes of sleep. She gulped in a lungful of air before swiping the Answer button.
“Hello?” She stood and walked to the room’s window, peering at the lightening skyline.
“Hey.” Kat whispered.
“Is everything okay?”
“Just wanted to check in,” Kat answered.
She exhaled in relief. “This early in the morning?”
A muffled laugh sounded across the connection. “Lucas had a bad dream. I couldn’t get back to sleep.”
Liz’s stomach hardened and she leaned against the windowsill for support. “Is he okay?” The hard sill bit into her hip bones, and she shifted.
“Sleeping like a baby. Just climbed in bed with us.” Kat paused, giving Liz a moment to sigh in relief. She hated being this far from him.
A knock sounded at the door as Kat started again. Good. Her stomach was still growling. “I want to apologize for pressuring you to come to California.”
Liz tripped over her own feet as she headed to let Riggen in. Kat never apologized. She stopped at the door and leaned against the cool metal for a moment as Kat continued. “Take your time. I’ll take good care of Lucas.”
“Momma?” Lucas’s sleepy voice drifted over the line and stopped Liz in her tracks. Kat shushed him with loving tones. “Look, Liz, I’ll catch up later.” With that, her sister clicked off.
Apprehension shivered up Liz’s spine and wrapped cold fingers around her heart. Was this an apology or Kat’s agenda to keep Lucas to herself? She closed one eye and looked through the peephole. Riggen’s Colorado Rockies hat swam before eyes that were suddenly full of tears.
She hated herself for opening the door. Hated herself for needing the comfort she had shoved away only last night.
But she did it anyway and when she looked up into Riggen’s face, terror pulled and twisted her like a whitewater whirlpool.
It wasn’t Riggen. A man hulked over her, three-quarters of his face hidden behind a high-altitude mask. The rest was covered with the Rockies cap she had thought to be Riggen’s.
She jerked away, slamming the door forward, but the stranger lunged through the closing portal and knocked her back.
She stumbled, heel over heel, before crashing against the glass of her closet door. It shattered as her skull bounced against it. The scream that pushed through her throat was muffled as her attacker smashed her onto the room’s desk.
She slid across the surface and fell ba
ckward onto the armchair. Like a ragdoll thrown by an angry toddler, she landed in a heap on the seat. The exposed wood arm dug into her backbone. She clawed at the man’s face.
Fear weakened her. She was trapped under the mass of man, her bones cracking under his weight. She whaled with both fists but he pinned her arms as easily as if he were fighting a newborn deer. He jammed her wrists against the wood of the chair with bone-shattering force.
She tried to scream again but he clamped his hand over her mouth. It smelled of sagebrush. Her entire body went cold. She tried to bite but he rammed his palm forward and up, locking her mouth in place. Her vision tunneled then blurred. All she could see were his glittering eyes. Were they gray or blue? The altitude mask hid his features from view.
Her mind filled with Lucas, sleeping safe in Kat’s bed. Would she ever hold him again?
Her attacker dipped his head closer, the plastic breathing piece brushing her face. “Leave Colorado. Now.”
Tears burned her eyes and wet his hands. She swiveled her torso and jammed her knee into his stomach. He hunched over and grunted in pain as the room’s phone shrilled into the terrifying silence.
He jerked her head up until her nose pressed the mask. Warm moisture exhaled into her face. “Leave or you’ll be sorry.”
The phone stopped as he pulled his hand from her mouth. She swallowed dry fear and screamed. Her voice choked as he slipped his hand around her neck and into her hair. Revulsion washed from her brow to her heels. He slammed her head against the wood of the desk behind her.
Then he was gone. Her shoulders slid against the velvety chair cushion as she crumpled to the ground. The chandelier over her bed dimmed. The renewed ringing of her phone sounded so far away.
Consciousness ebbed and flowed as her lips moved on the prayer that Riggen would read her text and come.
* * *
Riggen burst from his room into the hotel hallway and looked up and down the empty corridor. Had he heard a scream or was it his sleep-fogged imagination? He glared at the text on his phone before dialing her cell. What was Liz thinking? Had this week taught her nothing?
He pounded on her door, the sound thundering through the corridor. She couldn’t go out alone. He pounded again. He’d always admired her independence. But this? This was recklessness and irresponsibility. Pure and simple.
She wasn’t answering, phone or door. His stomach dropped to the floor. Turning from her closed door, he looked once more at the deserted hallway. If she’d left, she could be anywhere in the city by now. He crushed his cell phone in his hand. Alone, she was completely unprotected. Vulnerable.
He’d barely felt the weight of her body last night when he’d heaved her into the fire station. She’d been no challenge for him to sweep up. And she’d be no challenge to an attacker, either.
He dialed her room number, his finger pounding his phone’s screen. He could hear it trilling behind her closed door. No answer.
He pounded out her cell number again. Nothing. Foreboding slammed through him. If she was there, why wasn’t she answering the door? Not a good sign.
He thudded his fist against the door again. This time, so hard it rattled the wall next to him. Still no answer. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he glared at the closed door and shifted from foot to foot.
Maybe he was overreacting. He stilled and chugged a calming breath. Counted the ceiling tiles. There were six between his room and Liz’s. Maybe she was blow-drying her hair? Or in the bathroom?
He punched her number and let it ring again. Each ring spiked his heart rate. With a roll of his shoulders, he tried to drop his pulse out of the danger zone but every sense was firing. His body was in fight-or-flight mode.
He’d never been a foolish man, but standing there, listening to the phone ring, reality socked him between the eyes. No matter how hard he tried or how fast he ran, he’d never be able to protect everyone he loved. He wasn’t all-powerful.
He wasn’t God. He jabbed End Call. Redialed.
First ring. He couldn’t save Mom from a life of misery. Second ring. He couldn’t get home to say goodbye to Dad. Third ring. He couldn’t protect innocent people from a suicide bomber.
The call went to voice mail. He rocked forward on the balls of his feet. He hadn’t been strong enough to come through for any of them. Why would Liz be any different?
He scrubbed his hand over his face. It was hopeless. He couldn’t slow his heart rate and he couldn’t stifle the fear that something was very wrong.
Cold dread raced through his veins, but surrender pounded on his heart’s door. He clenched his hands and stared at the closed door. He looked back at the ceiling. Help. The silent cry hit the back of his teeth as a moan sounded from inside the room.
Years of training took over. He stepped back and braced himself. Driving his heel right above the door’s lock, he let all his energy transfer to the steel. The wood splintered, separating the door from the frame.
He pushed it open. Something was piled on the floor next to the armchair. Sun rays glinted off a patent-leather heel.
Liz. He crashed into the room and dropped to his knees. Her hair was matted with blood and her head rested awkwardly on the floor. Bruises the color of the morning sky spilled across her face in a grotesque tie-dye effect and a single trickle of blood ran down her face to pool in her ear.
He swallowed as he pressed two fingers to her neck. Relief blasted through him. She had a pulse. He checked her neck and spine with quick, practiced movements then pulled her into his arms. Staring up at the ceiling, he nodded. Thank You.
Liz had been right about one thing and one thing only... This had to end.
FIFTEEN
“I just want her safe.” Fear laced Riggen’s words and pulled Liz from a dreamworld of white picket fences and boyish giggles. No, not yet. She clamped her eyes tighter and nestled into her pillows. She wasn’t ready to leave.
She could still see Lucas. He was jumping from a sprawling box elder into a beautiful green yard. And he wasn’t calling Kat “Momma” by mistake.
“Take her away, then.” Trevor’s response chased off Lucas’s happy smile and tugged Liz further into reality.
“I would in a second if I thought it would make this all end.”
Liz slit an eye open. Riggen was at her side, his arm resting on her bed. Why was she in bed?
“I guess you won’t know unless you try. You seem to be at the end of your rope here.” What was Trevor talking about?
And why couldn’t she move her head without searing pain? She searched Riggen’s face through her narrow view. He looked as beat-down as she felt.
He shifted and rubbed his shadowed chin. “But what about you? What about Price Adventure Excursions?”
“I can handle it,” Trevor answered. “I did before. If you make it permanent this time, I’d be happy to buy you out. A nice nest egg for you and Liz. Where’d you say her family went? California?”
Tension rippled across Riggen’s shoulders, down his arm and into the hand that was now methodically flattening her bedsheet. Trevor’s words were a cold splash of water on them both and she bristled for Riggen. The Prices meant everything to him. How could Trevor write his brother’s future off with so little emotion?
Siblings were the worst. She pushed her eyelids up, fighting the tightness in her face, and slid her hand over to Riggen. Her messy mix of emotions slowly melted into a single, shocked realization. Somewhere deep inside she was still attached to the man at her side.
He turned and pushed a strand of hair from her face. “Hey there.”
She tried to respond but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth like a dry lump of cotton. Riggen reached over her and grabbed a plastic pitcher of water. He poured her a cup.
Their fingers tangled with each other as she took it. He helped her sit upright. Resting her cheek against his shoulder, she wa
ited for the nausea to pass. Something struck her. Her walls were missing paisleys. In their place was cold gray plaster. She was in a hospital again.
Churning waves sloshed the sides of her faith boat and she gripped the cup of lukewarm water, chewing on the waxy edge. “What’s going on?”
Riggen shot a glance at Trevor before answering. “We were hoping you’d tell us.”
She started to shake her head but the motion sent her empty stomach into doomsday mode. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
She set the cup down, the paper bottom clattering against the table. Pressing an index finger to the aching area over her temple, she cut a glance at each Price brother. “My head is screaming.”
“You don’t remember the attack?” Trevor rose from the chair he’d been sitting on. She shrank back into her pillow. He wasn’t as tall as Riggen but he still made her feel so small.
“Should I?” she asked. When he and Riggen exchanged a concerned look, her fingers dug into her thin blanket.
She slammed her fist on her table, slopping water over the sides of her cup. Droplets splashed her arm and she wiped them off. “I’ll tell you what’s going on...”
The men waited, heads cocked to the side. Expectant.
“My world’s falling apart.” She froze. “Wait...what time is it?”
Trevor glanced at his watch. “Just past nine thirty.”
“A.M.?” Her voice squeaked.
They both nodded.
“Good.” She grabbed hold of Riggen’s arm and used it as leverage to pull herself from the bed. She balanced on unsteady feet and let go. “I still have time to get to the convention center.”
Trevor’s brow crinkled and Riggen shot from his seat. They both stared at her as if she had grown a third head. She stood still until a new wave of nausea stopped threatening to take her out.
“You’ll make it,” Trevor agreed. “But do you really think it’s the best idea?”
“Emily covered for me last night, but if I bail again today, I won’t be able to show my face around Kimberly or anyone else from American Travel ever again.”
Treacherous Mountain Investigation Page 13