Mountain Shelter

“Don’t tell anybody.”

“Of course not.”

But the story would get out. There was no chance of keeping this juicy secret. It’d go viral. She knew from experience that the hospital was a swarming petri dish of gossip. “Somebody tried to break into my house last night and kidnap me. The DPD detective thinks it might be related to my dad. The guy with the ponytail and glasses is my bodyguard.”

One of the other doors leading to the reception room swung open and the short, skinny Dr. Bob, the oncologist, popped his head out. He was a worse gossip than Eloise. “No joke?” He gaped. “You were almost kidnapped? Why?”

Eloise pointed down the hall toward Jayne’s office. “Rich father. Peter the Great.”

“Wow,” Jayne said glumly. “You put it together quicker than the police investigator.”

“Doesn’t take a rocket scientist,” Eloise said. “There’s only one reason to be kidnapped—ransom. And your dad’s loaded.”

The door to her office flung open. Her dad and Dylan spilled into the reception area. Her father did something she never would have expected: he hugged her. His big arms wrapped around her, and she was surrounded by the pine-forest scent of an aftershave that he’d worn since she was a girl.

“I could have lost you,” he whispered.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Dylan told me there were two of them, wearing ski masks and carrying stun guns. He said that you had to flee across a rooftop.”

All of Dylan’s description was true. She hadn’t realized how dramatic her escape sounded until her dad said it out loud. She added, “And I took the stun gun away from him.”

“My sweet little gal, you shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes. If it’s somebody I know...”

He shook his fist. His pupils were so dilated that his blue iris was reduced to a slender rim. Either he was in an elevated emotional state or he’d been taking advantage of Colorado’s legalized marijuana. She assumed the former. Her dad didn’t do pot.

He concluded, “You can be damn sure I’ll find out who’s responsible. And I will make them pay.”

Over her father’s shoulder, Jayne saw the shocked faces of Eloise and Dr. Bob. Their eyes bulged. Their jaws gaped. The patients waiting in the reception area had dropped their magazines and were watching. She gave her father one last squeeze and stepped away from his embrace.

There was moisture at the corner of her left eye that she refused to believe was a tear. Jayne cleared her throat. “I appreciate anything you can do to help the investigation.”

“I’ll talk to my friend Razzy.” She doubted any of the other people in the room would be aware that her dad was referring to Rashid bin Calipha, one of the richest men in the world and the leader of a sheikdom. “There have been occasions when your good old Uncle Razzy might have used this Koslov character.”