Burn on the Western Slope (Crimson Romance) (31 page)

“What are you doing? I thought I was supposed to help you.”

“You are.” He grabbed her hands and tore off her gloves, throwing them as far as he could. “But now that I can’t trust you on the snowmobile, we’re walking the rest of the way. Hope you’re prepared.”

“I won’t leave my dad.”

“I guess he better get up, too. Go ahead and remove your hat. And if you pull another stunt like that, I’ll remove your jacket next.”

She struggled to help her dad. As he rose, she slipped her arms around him. They walked a bit until he moved away from her. “I don’t want to put too much of a burden on you,” he said. “I’m fine.”

Tanner kept his gun trained on them as they walked ahead. The weather worsened as they moved further up the mountains. Gray shrouded the sky. Snow swirled around them. Her hands burned with the cold. She winced with pain with each step forward. Her dad huffed behind her. She feared trying to run because of what might happen to him.

Her coat offered little protection as she trudged through the swirling snow and ice, impairing her vision, impairing her senses, impairing her ability to feel anything. Whiteness stretched into gray before them. They walked for miles up a steep incline and then started a descent into a terrain that led to a cove of trees. Her dad’s chin drooped, and she worried he might try something stupid to protect her.

Now would be the time to do something to protect him. She continued to walk as she fumbled in her purse for her cell phone and breathed a sigh of relief when she wrapped her fingers around her phone. She wasn’t sure how to manage a phone call, but she’d try anything.

Tanner pushed her forward. She stumbled and fell face first in the snow, her hands still encased in her purse.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tanner asked.

“Trying to keep my hands warm.”

Tanner yanked her hair. “Get up.”

Her dad advanced on Tanner and tried to swing at him with his good arm, but Tanner was more agile. He swung around and rammed Frank in the jaw. Frank fell in the snow but quickly stood, as if unfazed. The tension in his jaw told a different story. Nostrils flaring, he hurdled at Tanner again. Tanner kneed him in the stomach then kicked him in the shin. Her dad yelped as he fell. Reagan rushed for Tanner’s gun, but he swung and thwacked it over her head. Ice knifed her hands as she collapsed and caught herself on her palms.

The acidic taste of blood made Reagan gag. Breathing heavily in an attempt to escape vertigo, she dug her fingernails in the powder in an attempt to find the phone she’d dropped. Panic gurgled in her throat as her dad tried to attack Tanner from behind. She wished they could gang up on him, but the iciness made her hands feel as if they would crumble at any moment.

She screamed as Tanner kicked her dad in the knee again. Tanner yanked him up by the hair and hammered the gun in her dad’s back.

“Get fucking moving,” Tanner said. “I’m not playing anymore.”

Tears fell, but they seemed to freeze on her cheek. She tried to swallow a breath, but the air crystallized in her throat.

“Okay, okay,” she said. Her nose ran, and she swiped her sleeve across it right before she caught sight of her phone.

She managed to close her hands around it, stand without falling, and restore it in her bag without Tanner seeing. “I’m keeping my hands in my purse for warmth.” She prayed he wouldn’t doubt her.

As they started moving again, Reagan’s face felt frozen from the inside out, making it difficult to think, difficult to breathe, difficult to see a future. Each step she took was a painful stride into oblivion. They inched closer to a forest of trees. She should attempt her phone call before they entered the covering of trees.

She lagged behind but this time stayed close enough so Tanner wouldn’t check on her. He kept his gun to her dad’s back, so it wasn’t like she would run or anything. Thank God she hadn’t bought a smartphone with her money. Naomi had given her a hard time about her antiquated Motorola, but no way could she push Naomi’s one-digit speed-dial on one of those new contraptions. Naomi was the only person in the world right now in her speed-dial that might know how to call Garret. Why hadn’t she assigned Garret a special number?

She coughed loudly to cover a ring, just in case. She prayed Caleb wouldn’t be the one to answer and hoped it didn’t go to voicemail. Either way, she’d never know.

“Why are you doing this, Tanner?” she screamed. If Naomi had answered, she prayed her cousin would recognize her voice and stay on long enough to hear, then think to call for help.

Was Garret help? Or was he in on this? No, he wouldn’t be in on this. If he was, he would have come for Reagan. Reagan had trusted him, she would have gone with him. Well, until she discovered his deception.

Tanner didn’t reply, so she screamed his name again. She prayed the phone had made the call but couldn’t risk looking at it to find out. For all she knew, she’d never picked up a signal in this harsh, rugged environment. And she’d never know.

Her and her dad’s survival was up to her.

They entered a forest of trees. Instead of climbing uphill, they were clambering down, where the mountains cloaked them on all sides. The sun ruptured the sky, slopping fumes of gray and purple against the backdrop of the mountains. The wind retaliated with violent gusts.

“Why are you doing this?’ she asked again.

With one hand, Tanner grabbed her by the forearms, the other still pointing a gun into her father’s back. She released the phone in her purse.

“I want those fucking jewels,” he said, growling.

“What jewels?”

“The ones that are worth your life.”

“I don’t have them. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your brother stole them from a very important family.”

“How?”

“His job was to fence those jewels. He never gave them up.”

“He died. How could he?” Reagan shivered — not easy considering she was well past frozen and her body barely cooperated.

Tanner dropped her forearms and continued to walk. She tried to peer into her purse, but couldn’t see anything. Was the phone lit?

The more they trekked downward, the thicker the snow grew. More like concrete than soft powder. Her dad stumbled, grimaced, righted himself, and hobbled, his knee and ankle probably sprained. The pallor on his face worried Reagan.

Her phone vibrated in her purse. She pushed buttons, hoping she’d managed to answer but unable to tell for sure. The buzzing had stopped, so there was a chance.

“So you’re telling me that Ray is a jewel thief — ”

“Fence. Chris was the thief, Ray was the smart one out of the bunch, but not so smart after all, huh?”

“So you killed him?”

“No, I didn’t kill him. Didn’t have to.”

“Who killed him?” Reagan asked.

Tanner shrugged. “I dunno. Chris probably.”

“Well, Chris probably has the jewels then, not me.”

“No, we’ve looked. Ray left you the money. He must have left you the jewels.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, Chris steals the jewels and then Ray fences what the Mass family doesn’t want to keep. They get their portion and the rest of the money goes to the Mass family. Only this time, Chris handed the jewels over to Ray and Ray didn’t fence them. It only gets complicated from there.”

“The Mass family?” Fear tumbled through her. There was no way Tanner planned on letting them out of this alive. Garret had told her about the Mass family. Kyle was suspected of working with them. But this was about Ray, not Kyle.

“Where are we going, Tanner?” She stressed the name, so whoever was on the phone might know who she was with.

“To Ray’s cabin. You’re going to help me find those jewels.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“You have to go see her. Talk to her. Make sure she’s okay.”

Chayton watched Garret pace across the length of the living room. “What? You can’t do it?” He flicked his wrist and cast Aikido’s pole, tossing the fuzz that drove the cat crazy. Hunkered in the middle of the floor, Aikido glanced back and forth from the fuzz to Garret’s shoes.

“No, she’s pissed at me.”

Garret saw the hopeful gleam in Chayton’s eye as he tossed the fuzz higher, aiming it directly on Garret’s boot and enticing the cat to attack Garret. He stopped moving the pole, the fuzz no longer an attractant. “She found out.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact. “Which wouldn’t be a problem if you’d told her in the first place.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying,” Garret said. “If I’d told her and she was involved with Kyle, what is the first thing you think would have happened?” He stopped pacing and faced Chayton. Aikido eyed his prey, shaking his rear. Definite attack mode. Garret paced again. “She’d call the bastard and tell him the FBI is investigating him. I didn’t know her well enough to know what she’d do.”

Aikido elected that moment to lunge at Garret’s leg and attached himself firmly onto his pants. Garret yelled, Chayton laughed, and Aikido disentangled himself and ran.

“Just go check on her,” Garret demanded. “I knocked on her door, she didn’t answer. I’m afraid she won’t answer as long as I’m on the other side.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go check on her.” Chayton rose, winked, and added, “With pleasure.”

Growling, Garret followed Chayton to the door, standing half in and half out of the condo while Chayton proceeded next door.

Chayton knocked. And knocked. “Reagan? It’s Chayton. Come on, open up.” Shrugging, he glanced at Garret, who stood in the hallway with his back braced on the wall, as if that would steady his nerves. “She’s not home.”

Garret pushed Chayton aside. She was ignoring them, obviously. And there wasn’t much Garret could do about it but let her sulk. Maybe after a few days she would come around.

Garret didn’t think so. She was the kind of woman he’d have to fight for, and fight for her he would.

Chayton’s phone rang, and they both jumped. He unclipped his phone, glanced at it, scowled, and answered. “Chayton here.”

Garret watched as a storm of emotions played across his brother’s face. His chest tightened. He admitted he didn’t know everything there was to know about Chayton’s life, but at this moment, it seemed everything revolved around Reagan and his feelings for her. So if this had anything to do with her …

“Naomi,” Chayton whispered, probably catching Garret’s scowl.

Garret’s heart dropped down a two-hundred foot ravine and his legs felt like they were dangling, struggling not to follow the plunge. He strained to hear the words, but Chayton’s face paled and he handed the phone to Garret.

• • •

“Dammit, Chay. Get that fucking helicopter ready!”

Garret tore through the condo, throwing gear and food into his drybag in preparation for Reagan’s rescue. Taking deep breaths, he tried not to panic. He tried to think of this only as a rescue mission of a friend, not a woman with whom he had fallen in love.

Wait, in love? What was he thinking? And why was he thinking it right now, when Reagan’s life could be at stake? Thinking of love slowed men down, caused them to lose their wits, and he couldn’t afford to lose anything right now, especially his head.

“I’m trying.” Chayton studied his phone. “But I don’t own a helicopter.”

It pissed Garret off that Chayton was certified to fly one but didn’t own one — not many people would loan a hundred thousand plus dollar machine to just anyone. He didn’t have time to gather a search and rescue team. Buchanan would take too long to send help. Chief Castro promised to send out a few officers when the weather improved. Garret didn’t intend to wait that long.

Fuck the weather and fuck the police chief.

They were going up against a trained FBI agent. If he hadn’t heard part of Tanner’s conversation when he’d called Reagan’s phone, he would have thought Tanner had taken her to question her. He’d immediately called Buchanan, who admitted Tanner hadn’t checked in and had no authority to do anything other than back up Garret’s investigation. They both came to the same conclusion: Tanner was working on his own or possibly with Javier Mass.

Garret checked his guns for ammunition, loaded extra clips in his cargo pockets, and clothed himself tight. Layers. It was all about layers. In this kind of weather, one could never have enough layers or food or gear or ammunition or water or …

“Shit,” Garret said as he stopped at the door and turned to Chayton. It was risky going out in this weather, even riskier to fly a heli where they were going, but he was afraid they’d never make it in time if they didn’t. They couldn’t hike and they couldn’t go on snowmobiles. It’d take longer than he wanted, and he didn’t know what kind of condition Reagan would be in when he found her. Flying was their only option. He’d wasted half an hour considering all his other options and another half hour trying to organize a team that wouldn’t cooperate.

“Yeah,” Chayton said into the phone, nodding, glancing at Garret, and nodding again. “Gotcha. Be there in ten.” Chayton flipped his phone closed, heaved his own bag over his shoulder, and said, “I got one. Let’s go.”

• • •

The snow alternated between flurries and downpours. The sky alternated between luminous and leaden. Clouds opened to reveal a sun so bright it bounced off the snow and stung Reagan’s eyes, but then those clouds transformed into a flat silvery pillow as the wind shook out the feathers.

Reagan longed to lay her head on such a pillow. Instead, it suffocated her. Suffocated the light that guided her. She blinked. Weary. She felt her whole body would splinter at any moment. But she kept going. She had no choice.

They came upon a cabin tucked into the mountains but it seemed to take another hour to arrive. It could have been more, it could have been less, but each step urged her further from her destination instead of closer.

Her dad stumbled, breathing heavily, and Reagan was afraid he wouldn’t make it to the safe haven of the cabin. Safe, at least, from the elements.

Finally they arrived, and Tanner led them inside. Only a small relief from the conditions outside.

“Let’s get down to business,” Tanner said.

Reagan glared. “Can we please get warm first? I can’t feel my fingers.”