Rancher's Hostage Rescue

by Beth Cornelison

  His comment drew her attention and an appreciative smile. “Thank you, Dave. I love you, too.”

  “In that case—” Heart thumping with anticipation, he dropped to one knee and reached in his pocket. Pulling out the folded bandana he had stashed there, he unfolded it and lifted the ring he’d brought for this moment. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Lilly clapped a hand to her mouth, and her eyes grew damp. “Oh, Dave. I—” She laughed again, the sound choked with happy tears. When she leaned in for a closer look at the ring, she dabbed at her eyes and croaked, “It’s so pretty!”

  He reached for her hand and slipped the ring on her finger. For another moment, she admired the ring, turning her hand to watch the jewels shimmer. A slim oval diamond in the center with a round sapphire on each side.

  One of the many butterflies flapping around them lit on her hand, and she giggled joyfully. “Look! I’m not the only one who thinks so! Hi, lovely.”

  He put his finger in front of a butterfly resting on a bloom near him, and the winged insect crawled on his finger. Carefully he moved his hand so the yellow-winged creature could crawl onto Lilly’s nose. She sputtered a laugh and looked at the butterfly with crossing eyes.

  When the butterfly fluttered off her nose to another blossoming plant, Lilly studied the ring again. She raised shining eyes to his. “You know, this configuration kinda looks like the Melissa blue that we—”

  “Yeah. On purpose.”

  She caught her breath, and her chin wobbled as fresh tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Dave...”

  His gut tightened as he realized she hadn’t answered him.

  For the past two years, he’d kept his promise not to push her. He’d given her all the time and space she needed when she asked. In recent months, however, she hadn’t wanted time away. She’d moved closer, gotten a job at the Boyd Valley Health Clinic, shared every free minute away from their jobs with him. They spent hours talking. Laughing. Making love. She’d seemed happy. He knew he had been as happy as he’d ever been. Helen still came up now and then, but as a happy memory, not as a guilt-soaked wedge between them.

  Had he read Lilly wrong after all these months? Had he rushed her with his proposal, bringing back painful memories?

  He climbed to his feet—still thankful he could after weeks in recovery—and framed her face with his hands. “Aw, Lilly, did I mess up? I promised not to rush you, I know. And we don’t have to set a date, but I thought... I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day, and I wanted to do something special and romantic and—”

  “You did,” she said, nodding and gripping his sleeves. Tears still slipped down her cheeks. “This is all so sweet and so...perfect!” She drew a shuddering breath and wiped her face. “How Helen could have ever complained about you, I’ll never know. You’ve been nothing but a gentleman to me. I mean, you’re sweet and thoughtful and attentive...” She sniffed and shook her head.

  His stomach knotted as he sensed something dreadful in her hesitation. “But?”

  Her brow dipped, her expression confused. “But what?”

  “I thought I heard a but.” He knuckled away a tear on her cheek. “And you haven’t answered me. Do you want to marry me?”

  Her eyes widened with surprise. “I didn’t? You thought that—” She chuckled and pressed a kiss on his mouth. “I’m sorry. I guess with all this—” she motioned around them to the many fluttering wings “—I’m kinda like a kid in a candy store.” Stepping closer, she cupped the back of his head and peered deeply into his eyes. “I love you, too, and I do want to marry you, Dave. Yes, yes, yes!”

  * * *

  Don’t miss other books in Beth Cornelison’s

  McCall Adventure Ranch miniseries:

  Rancher’s Covert Christmas

  Rancher’s Deadly Reunion

  Rancher’s High-Stakes Rescue

  Available now wherever

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  Colton’s Mistaken Identity

  by Geri Krotow

  Chapter 1

  The mountains began to glow with the sunrise, and the sky’s violet streaks yielded to a deeper summer blue as Phoebe Colton ran along the resort’s jogging path. The Chateau stood two miles behind her, on the other side of the copse of aspen birch trees ubiquitous to Colorado.

  Phoebe loved her work at The Chateau but also needed her morning run to escape the constant whirlwind that was Roaring Springs, Colorado, during its annual film festival. Her dawn workouts soothed her soul. Roaring Springs and these mountains were as much a part of her as her red hair and dimples—features she shared with her identical twin, Skye.

  Why did you take off now, sister?

  At the reminder that she had no freaking idea where Skye was assaulted her, her breath broke from the easy rhythm she’d enjoyed the past hour. She slowed to a walk and forced herself to calm down.

  It didn’t make sense to be concerned, not to someone who didn’t know Skye. Skye’s jerk of a boyfriend had up and married another woman with zero warning to her, leaving Phoebe’s sibling devastated. In a move so typical of her more impulsive twin, Skye had taken off with no word of where she was going.

  While Phoebe totally understood Skye’s need to be alone, she didn’t understand why her sister had left so close to the beginning of the Roaring Springs Film Festival. The weeklong event kicked off tonight with the first red carpet event—The Chateau’s welcome gala, held in The Chateau’s grand ballroom, the showpiece of the Colton empire. The following days would be a blur of activity until the end of the week, when their grand ballroom would again be the venue for the star-studded award ceremony that officially closed the Roaring Springs film fest.

  Skye was needed for each and every event this week, as she was the public face of the Colton empire’s resort. Phoebe had to admit that Skye had created quite the social media stir, with hundreds of thousands of followers across several platforms, and she’d recently garnered a few top-earning videos featuring sponsored content. Not bad for her twenty-five-year-old sister, or for their hotel business. Even their father, Russ, normally more detached from the twins, had expressed keen enthusiasm at the power of “millennial marketing.” Their mother, Mara, was more about making sure the girls—and all of her five biological children—appreciated what they’d been brought up with and did their parts to give back to the Colton efforts. Her two o
lder cousins that Mara and Russ had raised, Fox and Sloane, were also part of the family.

  Phoebe leaned against a tree and gave herself a minute to go over what was bothering her, underneath her jangling nerves about her sister being off-site. A sinister cloud of fear had lingered over Roaring Springs ever since the discovery of several murdered bodies at the base of the town’s mountain. The saddest part was that one of the Avalanche Killer’s victims had turned out to be their cousin, Sabrina.

  Phoebe and Skye had regrouped and decided they needed to be the energy behind keeping things positive for the film festival. Skye had been so excited about making this festival work no matter the odds, especially after she learned that the online Hollywood entertainment magazine In Film Today was in place at The Chateau and broadcasting Skye’s two red carpet events live.

  Their father had certainly been pleased. Anything that spelled more money for the resort empire he’d built from the ground up thrilled the chronic workaholic.

  “Give your father a break.” Her mother’s admonishment taunted Phoebe as she tried to not stress about her sister. It was only natural she’d blame her father for not worrying about Skye’s emotional state, instead of the always-present Mara. Whereas Russ tended to be emotionally unavailable, Mara made up for it in spades. Not in the motherly attention they’d enjoyed as kids but in her focus on keeping The Chateau the premier private resort spa in North America.

  As the two youngest of five biological Colton siblings, Phoebe and Skye had been born years after their three older brothers and almost a decade after the two cousins her parents had raised as their own. Phoebe and her sister had learned to cling to one another through the thick tension that often existed between Russ and Mara, and through what often felt like strained ties with their immediate family.

  Phoebe knew she could always count on Skye, one hundred and ten percent. Which was why she had to fight from allowing her concern over Skye to blossom into all-out panic. Skye was more outgoing, more engaging than Phoebe, and Phoebe liked it that way. It kept the social pressure off her. But it made a logical explanation of Skye’s disappearance challenging, if not downright scary.

  She rubbed her sternum through her thin running shirt. Whenever Skye hurt, she hurt. And right now her entire body was humming with worry over her sister. It wasn’t the first time her “twin radar” had issued warning alerts about Skye. There was the time Skye had fallen out of a tree when they were six and Phoebe had convinced her mother that Skye’s sore leg was indeed broken. And when they were seventeen, Phoebe had somehow known that Skye’s homecoming date was going sour on their basement sofa and she had burst in upon her sister and that louse of a football quarterback who wasn’t taking no for an answer. Despite herself, Phoebe let an evil smile flicker across her lips for a second. It had been such a sister moment to face down their high school idol–turned–potential rapist by kicking him in the privates, tying him up with zip ties from their father’s work bench and then reporting him to the police. By coming forward and with Skye’s brave testimony, they’d helped half a dozen other young women the athlete had threatened find justice.

  But they weren’t in high school anymore, and they had phones, the ability to text. Skye always texted her at least three times a day, if not more often. And she hadn’t heard a thing since that last message when Skye told her she needed space to work things out. Phoebe didn’t blame her sister, as she’d been almost as upset as Skye when they’d found out that Skye’s serious boyfriend, a successful music producer, had gone and married the rock star whose album he’d produced. They’d married in Las Vegas and had sold exclusive rights to a celebrity magazine, which meant the photographic proof of the infidelity was unavoidable. Skye’s broken heart was the topic of many gossip rags and social media posts.

  Phoebe tried to distract herself from her worry by staring at the gurgling brook, where deer and birds hung out to get a sip to ease July’s heat. It led to the area exclusive to the resort that housed the refurbished thermal springs spa and sauna from the 1920s. Her muscles craved a soak in the mineral baths—she’d not visited her favorite respite in far too long.

  She’d lost the ability to focus on anything but her own grief the past several weeks. Ever since Sabrina had been found, brutally murdered. It was one thing to host the premiere of a violent movie that portrayed a serial killer and his victims; it was devastating for it to become real life as unspeakable violence struck her own town, her family.

  The sound of broken twigs, followed by a sudden silence, sent a jolt of fear spiraling through her. Phoebe stood straighter and took stock of her surroundings, swinging her gaze over the running water, the wet stones, the woods beyond. Since she’d found out a murderer was on the loose, she hadn’t felt safe. It galled her, losing the security this land had always given her. The mountain was a constant source of reliability in her life. Now its serenity was tainted by an evil serial killer.

  Nothing seemed out of order as she scanned the running path, the birch and pine trees that made up the woods, the flowing brook. When a buck’s hooves sounded on the forest floor, she caught sight of the animal as it sprinted not more than ten feet in front of her, fleeing an unseen predator.

  Phoebe let out a shaky sigh.

  It’s just nature, nothing more.

  She suspected the culprit for the deer’s run was a fox or even a stray dog, nothing that threatened her. Midsummer wasn’t hunting season, nor was it a time to worry about grizzly bears, which were busy enjoying the plentiful berries and smaller wildlife. They’d had occasional grizzly sightings over the years, but nothing too close. The bears liked to wander the mountains that surrounded their valley but rarely ventured anywhere near the Roaring Springs population.

  When she’d first heard of the Avalanche Killer’s activity, Phoebe had wanted to believe it was a grizzly attack. It might explain the gruesome nature of the killings, and it allowed her to deny that such a brutal murderer lived among them in their close-knit town. The killer was most likely someone they all knew, which made it so much more personal to Phoebe and her family. It also increased her constant stress, as the fear of being the killer’s next victim was relentless.

  Phoebe put herself under enough pressure—the last thing she needed this week was more from a lethal predator. While Skye grasped the concept of joie de vivre, Phoebe was the more sensible and grounded of the two. She rarely admitted it to Skye, but Phoebe liked the role she played in their twinship. Sure, sometimes she took herself too seriously, and wished like heck that her sister would do the same, but Phoebe never saw herself being able to behave so lightheartedly as Skye. That was why Phoebe had earned her college degree in finance in under three years, while Skye still had some courses to complete for her bachelor’s.

  She shuddered in the warming air, and it wasn’t from her perspiration’s cooling effect. She’d text Skye as soon as she got back. Once again, her twin radar was going off like fireworks. Phoebe had purposefully left her phone in her room, wanting the freedom from the constant intrusion of texts and emails about the Roaring Springs Film Festival. But now she wished she’d kept it with her.

  Since the film festival was upon them, it was by far the busiest time of year for The Chateau. That said a lot, considering Roaring Springs was nestled in the heart of ski country. A film event second only to Sundance and maybe the Toronto Film Festival, the Roaring Springs Film Festival was also an important source of income for The Chateau. The resort her mother had started from the ground up years ago had turned into a literal gold mine. Until this year.

  Normally they’d be sold out for almost a year in advance. But reservations had dropped since the discovery of bodies on the property, on its most striking feature, the mountain that overshadowed the beautiful valley where The Chateau was nestled.

  Her parents had informed her last night that the national news outlets were about to carry the story of the Avalanche Killer, and it was stressing her
out. Having the criminal reports shared word-of-mouth locally had cut into their bookings, and they’d dropped off more when the local television station reported them. The chance that their film festival earnings would tank was high.

  Phoebe offered a last glance at the brook, the surrounding peace of the forest, and sent up a little prayer that there would be a text from Skye when she returned to her room. Her sister most likely wanted to talk to Phoebe about her boyfriend’s unforgivable betrayal. Phoebe had never been a fan of Brock, the overly flashy record producer. Skye’s relationship with him had been constant trauma-drama and now it was clear why—Brock had been lying to Skye about loving her.

  As painful as life was for Skye, and as hard as the drop in reservations and thus cash flow was for The Chateau, the film festival would go on. Phoebe’s days would be filled with taking care of the guests who showed up. And fortunately, the movie companies were still showing off their best and most promising works, regardless of the Avalanche Killer. That meant that the actors and actresses would appear, and along with them, their fans. Maybe the rooms weren’t all filled yet, but Phoebe sent up an affirmation that they would be, soon.

  She squared her shoulders and began to run back to The Chateau. To her work, her family, her life.

  * * *

  Prescott Reynolds saw the lithe woman with striking, flame-red hair as she ran up to the edge of the brook. Her ponytail reached between her shoulder blades, which meant her unbound hair would be at her waist. An image of scarlet waves flowing over her creamy naked shoulders struck him, and he mentally batted it aside. This wasn’t a time to entertain his libido, not with a probable crazed fan on his tail. He mentally caught himself up short. He assumed this was a fan, he was so used to his struggle to get solitude. Maybe the redhead was just another nature lover.

  “Don’t ever let your guard down.” His security detail’s implicit instructions reminded him that he’d not alerted them that he was coming out here this morning, alone.