Rescued by the Ranger (22 page)

“Cowboy, front and center.”

Instead, the dog took off like a bullet toward the end of the hall. There’d been only one other time Cowboy had refused a command. The night his unit got hit, the dog had operated on instinct only, taking the point on the way out of the building where they’d been ambushed, leading his injured teammates to safety. He’d stalked and attacked the rebels who lay in wait to finish the job, drawing them out so Garrett could do his part. How Cowboy had been able to tell the difference between insurgents and innocents was beyond Garrett, but the dog had ignored Garrett’s command to stay by his side that night, proving he didn’t need a fallible human telling him what to do. Garrett hoped that was still true.

Garrett whistled loudly and charged down the hallway after the dog. A hundred feet ahead of him, Cowboy disappeared around the corner. Almost immediately, the dog yipped, a door slammed shut, and then Cowboy’s fury was unleashed. He snarled and barked, scratching and gnawing at something. Had he gotten himself trapped? Garrett could already see Aunt Peg’s scowl of disapproval when she witnessed the destruction this dog was capable of. But he couldn’t discount the possibility that Cowboy knew what he was doing—that his odd behavior was a reaction to danger, maybe even Rachel’s stalker.

Garrett slowed just before the corner and pressed himself to the wall. His hand went automatically to the waistband at his back, but he wasn’t armed, having left his weapon in the Jeep. Cowboy kept up his frenzied attack on something just around the corner. He was making enough noise to rouse the dead, so this wing of the lodge must be empty. Or maybe everyone was still outside enjoying the stars. Even Rachel would be able to hear the commotion as soon as she stepped out of the shower. Garrett leaned forward, found the hallway leading to a set of stairs, and stepped around the corner.

There was a door on his left. It appeared to be a utility closet, and one twist of the knob proved it was locked. How in the hell had Cowboy gotten locked inside? Had one of the staff propped it open and forgotten? Cowboy could have knocked the prop out of the way if he’d forced his way through the crack. Anything falling could have accounted for his yip. He was definitely going to town on the door casing now. He
did not
like to be contained.

“Relax, Cowboy.” He tried to get the dog’s attention through the door, but the resulting silence lasted only a second or two. Garrett threw his shoulder against the door, but it didn’t budge and he stepped back to consider his options. He could go to Rachel or Aunt Peg for a key, but the door frame would no doubt have to be replaced anyway, along with the door, several feet of drywall on both sides, and the carpet. He would pay for it and accept the fact that Cowboy would be banished from the lodge from here on out.

He heard something, a very small sound, like a door opening in the hallway around the corner. No doubt someone wondering what all the ruckus was. He waited a few seconds for the guest to appear, but when no one did, he strode toward the corner.

The door marked 228 was cracked open. About two-thirds of the way up, something was suspended in the opening, keeping the door from closing. It was dark in the room, but Garrett sensed someone was there, watching. A sudden stabbing pain in his arm made him glance down. He swore and yanked the feathered dart from his bicep.

“What the hell?” He took a couple of unsteady steps toward the open door. The watcher didn’t move. Behind Garrett, Cowboy snarled his dissatisfaction, renewing his efforts to escape.

Garrett went down on his knees. For some reason he couldn’t remember, he felt compelled to say Rachel’s name, but his tongue was too heavy. His head banged against the floor as he slid the rest of the way down, but he barely felt the blow. His mind was functioning slowly, blurring the past and the present.
Who stood there in the doorway? And why was he doing this? Rachel?

The door opened far enough for a figure to slip out. Garrett tried to get up, but he couldn’t move. He blinked several times to try to clear his vision. It was a man, medium height. He circled Garrett and then leaned over him.

“No, Harding. She’s
not
yours. She never will be.”

That voice. Something about that voice. Why couldn’t he remember?

The man bent over him again to grab his shoulders and drag him toward the open door. His face was just inches from Garrett’s, and in the few seconds before the door closed behind them, recognition crystallized, and the name floated before his eyes. Eyes that would no longer stay open.

Chapter Eighteen

R
ACHEL WAS JUST
slipping into two-inch heels that matched her blue denim skirt perfectly when someone knocked on her door with one of those upbeat, happy-to-be-alive rhythms. Her smile came unbidden. Garrett was back. She gave her image in the mirror one more inspection, smoothed her hair, and did her best not to rush to the door.

“That was fast. Peg must have—” She swung the door open, already talking, and stopped abruptly when her gaze landed on Alan Taylor. “Oh! I’m sorry, Alan. I was expecting somebody else. What can I do for you?” Rachel had never been alone with Alan before. He seemed almost creepy-nervous, his eyes darting up and down the hall. She tried to push past him so they could talk where others might see them, but he stepped in front of her.

Alan held up a cell phone. “I have a picture I’d like you to look at. Please, Rachel? It’s important.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but brushed by her and began pacing back and forth in the center of her room.

Rachel left the door slightly ajar and turned to face him, forcing a smile. “Sure. I’m always happy to help out a guest, especially one who’s been with us as long as you have.”

He forced the phone into her hands and walked away as if he couldn’t bear to look. Something about the way he glared at her made her shiver. She turned, prepared to insist that they take this downstairs, only to see him closing the door.

“Now isn’t the best time for this, Alan. I’m expecting someone any moment. Are you sure it wouldn’t be better to handle this in the lodge office? I could meet you there in a few minutes.” She started to walk toward him.

“Nobody’s coming, Rachel. Look at the picture.” He pointed to the cell phone and his gaze drilled into her with cold deliberation.

She gave up trying to reason with him and went to plan B—placating him. Her fingers shook as she turned the phone over. “Whatever is wrong, I’m sure Peg and I will be able to come up with a solution as soon as we get to the bottom of the problem.”

“The
problem
is in the picture, and it’s
your
problem. No one else needs to know. Now turn the phone on and look at the picture.” A sneer formed and his fists curled at his sides.

The man’s belligerent attitude was completely uncharacteristic. Alan Taylor’s congenial and friendly personality had vanished. Obviously, something was wrong for which he held her, and her alone, personally responsible. She should never have let him into her room, but she’d certainly had no reason to suspect he was a dangerous man. Now she wasn’t so sure.

He was slightly built, but wiry. Still, if it came to it, surprise would be on her side. He wouldn’t know Jonathan had instructed her in the finer points of self-defense. The worst part would be explaining to Peg why she’d broken the nose of their most long-term guest.

One more glance at him convinced her that her quickest way out of this was to do as he said. She pulled the cell phone toward her, hit the button to wake it up, and slid her finger across the bottom of the screen. The camera app opened immediately with a picture that was dark and a little out of focus. When she finally figured out what it was, her heart almost stopped beating.

Garrett!

Rachel fought back the waves of fear that threatened to smother her. The picture in front of her was replaced by images from the past that burst into her mind unbidden—Chance, spread-eagled on a bed, covered with blood. Garrett was tied to one of the king-size four-posters that graced each of the lodge’s rooms, but there was no blood. He might still be alive. In the time it took for her to raise her eyes to the maniac in front of her, she pushed aside her hopes and dreams, her shame, and her fear. If there was even the remotest chance that he was alive, there was nothing she wouldn’t do to keep him that way.

“Jeremy?” The name tasted rancid in her mouth.

He threw back his head and laughed. “You don’t remember me, do you? All those times you walked past me while I was mowing my grandparents’ yard in Plainview. You were on your way to work at that awful club, and you always looked so sad. I knew I had to rescue you from that place and those bloodsucking people you met there—like Chance.”

Rachel’s courage began to crumble.
Stay in the present! Concentrate on Garrett!

“Where is he, Jeremy?” Anger burned hot within her, but she couldn’t let it show.

“He’s not far from here, my sweet. Did you see the pretty vest I made for him?” He pointed to the picture again.

Rachel held her breath and studied the image. After a few seconds, she raised her eyes to his. “Is that . . .?”

“A bomb? Yes.” He chortled. “A suicide vest just like they use in Iraq. I made it special for him so he’d feel right at home. Except I used C-4 so there’s enough explosive there to destroy this whole place.”

“Why? What has Peg ever done to you? She’s been nothing but kind. If you want to hurt someone, hurt me. I’m the one you’re angry with.” It was hard keeping her voice level and calm when what she really wanted to do was scream to the heavens.

“Oh, you’re wrong. I’m not angry with you. You’re just confused. I should have come to you long ago. As soon as we’re away from here and the influences of these people, you’ll see that we were meant to be together. You’re already starting to see, aren’t you?”

“I see a sick, cruel man.” Hopelessness stirred within her, but she refused to give up.

“I’m not heartless, my sweet. Nobody has to die. Harding’s vest is wired to blow on a signal from my cell phone. The only way I’ll activate it is if you don’t do exactly what I say. Do you understand?” He reached out and jerked the phone from her fingers.

She nodded dutifully. Rachel’s heart felt like a cold, hard rock taking up space in her chest. She wanted to slam the heel of her hand into his nose, but if she gave in to her natural inclinations even once, Garrett would die . . . along with everyone in the lodge.

“If you’re a good girl, I won’t give the signal, and the bomb will revert to a timer set to go off in about”—he glanced at his watch—“forty-five minutes. Harding is out cold right now, but he should be awake in plenty of time. If he makes enough noise, they won’t have any trouble finding him. Of course, someone will need to know how to diffuse the bomb.”

Rachel gasped, and the unwanted wave of tears that had filled her eyes as he talked rolled down her cheeks.

“Enough. No more tears for that man or anyone else here. From now on it’s you and me. I’ll make you happy. You’ll see.”

“What about your wife?” She was desperate for anything that might bring him to his senses.

The grin that appeared transformed his face to nothing short of evil. “Linda was only a diversion—a poor imitation of you. I got rid of her so she wouldn’t be in our way.” He waved his hand in the air, as though dismissing the very thought of his wife.

Rachel forced herself to take the next breath . . . and the one after that. He was insane. If she left here with him, she’d be lost. Not to mention she’d be leaving Garrett when he needed her the most. She had to find him. Together, they could figure out how to disarm the bomb. If she could only get Jeremy’s cell phone away from him before he could send the signal. Her gaze flicked to the heavy lamp on a nearby table, and her world went quiet as she waited for him to turn his back.

A light tapping sounded on the door, and for a moment, Rachel’s hopes soared. They dropped sharply when Riley and his brother Arnold stepped into the room. The two looked just as greasy and slimy as the last time she’d seen them outside the sheriff’s office. Riley’s lecherous sneer nearly made her sick as her hope of escape disappeared.

“Where’s the other one? I hired three of you.” Jeremy rounded on Riley, suddenly furious.

“Easy now. Matt got himself in a little fight this afternoon. He’s sleepin’ it off at the jail. No need to get all upset. Me and Arnold took care of parkin’ the getaway vehicle on the old forest service road. Delivered a few supplies to the mine too . . . just like you asked.” Riley grinned smugly at their accomplishment, but Jeremy wasn’t impressed.

“Yeah? Well, that doesn’t change a thing. If I get two-thirds of what I asked for, you get two-thirds of the money we agreed on.” He stared them down, daring them to argue.

Amazingly, no one did. Riley must have figured out that Jeremy was crazy, too. Rachel wasn’t sure if Jeremy screwing over Riley and Arnold gave her a better chance or not. At this point, she’d take anything she could get.

Jeremy turned back to her and smiled apologetically as though he cared that she’d just witnessed him lose his temper. “It’s time to go, Rachel,” he said. “You’re not really dressed for traipsing through the woods, but it will have to do. Riley will go down ahead of us and make sure it’s all clear. Then we’re going to walk right out the back door. If we should run into anybody, don’t forget what’s at stake.” He held up his phone with the picture of Garrett plastered on the screen. “Take a good look at this and remember it if you start having any doubts. Once we’re out of the lodge, we’re home free. You and me.” He leaned closer until his lips hovered over hers. “That is what you want, isn’t it, my sweet?”

Rachel swallowed hard.
Oh my God!
How long could she pretend? The answer came instantaneously. She had no choice . . . as long as there was a chance to save Garrett. She nodded her head shakily.

His mouth closed over hers. She clamped her lips shut and fought to keep the contents of her stomach down. Just in time, he stepped away.

Jeremy grabbed her wrist and yanked her into the hall. She glanced around, hoping against hope that help would appear. Riley disappeared around the corner at the end of the passageway, then a moment later, reappeared and motioned to them. Jeremy dragged her down the corridor while Arnold brought up the rear, glancing at her with cold detachment.

As they approached the corner, a deafening combination of sounds broke loose. The ferocious snarling and growling had to be coming from Cowboy. Surely he’d come right through the wall of the utility closet where he was evidently trapped. That explained how Jeremy had gotten the drop on Garrett. Cowboy would have protected his master with his life if he’d been able.

Jeremy jerked her toward the stairs, and she had to concentrate to keep her feet under her as they ran down to the ground floor. There was nobody in the kitchen or the utility room. Everything was cleaned up and put away for the night. Riley stepped outside, but soon stuck his head back through the door to motion them on.

Rachel lost track of time and surroundings after that. She was aware of being led up the ridge behind the lodge, dragged along like a calf to slaughter. Once inside the tree line, out of sight of anyone who might glance their way from the buildings, Jeremy stopped, produced plastic ties from his pocket, and bound her wrists behind her back. They continued on, up and over the ridge by the light of the full moon, until they intersected an abandoned forest service road. Shortly after that, Rachel nearly ran into Riley’s old yellow pickup, it was so hidden with pine boughs and a dark gray tarp.

If she’d thought walking up the side of a mountain in the dark was bad, it was nothing compared with being forced to sit on Jeremy’s lap as they all shoved into the cab of the Ford pickup. Claustrophobia set in with a vengeance, and it became harder and harder to keep her mouth shut. She tried to tune out the snickers, the smell of sweat, the hands that brushed her accidentally, in favor of survival, but all the while she listened for the explosion that would signal the deaths of Garrett and everyone she loved.

It seemed an interminable length of time that they drove through the darkness, over rough one-lane trails while she perched tensely on as little of Jeremy’s lap as she could manage and tried to ignore his hard-on that pressed against her hip. While he drove, Riley kept up a running monologue about his part in the night’s events, about cutting Garrett Harding down to size, and about how he’d finally earned some respect in this fleabag town. Arnold sat in the middle, his legs on each side of the gearshift column, apparently oblivious to Riley’s babbling and her misery.

One hand on her waist and the other stroking her arm from shoulder to elbow, Jeremy sat silently, studying the darkness beyond the passenger window. She could see his reflection. The only indication of what occupied his thoughts, his growing arousal.

Was Garrett awake yet? Had Luke or Jonathan found him? What if they got to him in time but weren’t able to diffuse the bomb? The weight of despair settled on her shoulders, and cold tendrils of fear snaked toward her heart. The forty-five minutes had to have passed by now. If the bomb went off, would they have been close enough to hear? In these mountains, it was difficult to say, but for her own sanity, she had to believe Garrett was safe.

Now it was her turn. Jeremy’s intentions became more obvious with each passing moment. No way in hell was he raping her. She would fight him with every fiber of her being. If he killed her in the process, so be it. There was no reason to think she would get out of this alive anyway.

Abruptly, Riley pulled off the trail, parked in a group of young saplings, and killed the engine. “Here we are.”

Rachel glanced out the window and immediately recognized the deserted, partially dilapidated buildings of Addison’s Mine. Her skin prickled with dread. She hated tight, underground places . . . even had a hard time with some basements. It was the whole idea of being buried alive that got to her.

The entrance to Addison’s Mine was narrow and long, sloping off for several hundred feet before the ground opened up and swallowed anyone who wasn’t paying attention. If you survived the drop, there was no way out short of scaling a sheer rock face. Why were they here?

Jeremy opened his door and dropped her, unceremoniously, on her feet outside the vehicle, then stepped out beside her. He pushed her toward the front of the truck where Riley and Arnold were waiting. Riley tossed Jeremy the keys to the pickup.

Rachel stumbled when he shoved her toward Riley.

“I know, my sweet. I want to stay with you as well, but I have some last-minute chores to attend to before we can leave. I won’t be long—a few hours—and then we’ll have the rest of our lives together.” Jeremy started to urge her toward Riley again when Arnold reached out and grasped her elbow.