Snowed In

“It’s so petty.”

“But still dangerous. Homegrown assassins can be just as lethal as machete-wielding terrorists.”

“But not those guys in the clearing,” she said. “You didn’t have much of a problem dealing with them.”

Though he would have preferred coming off as a superhero who had handily defeated a team of highly trained hit men, her assessment was correct. “They weren’t pros.”

“Are you going after them?”

“When Kovak gets here, I’m going to try.”

Standing on the staircase, she frowned as she tapped the head of the baseball bat against her palm. With her honey-colored hair curling in disarray and her parka open to show pink cherubs with round bottoms flying across her flannel pajamas, she should have looked ridiculous. But her erect posture gave her a certain dignity, and her dark eyes were serious.

“Go ahead and do what you need to do,” she said.

“Are you giving the orders?”

“When it comes to my property, I am.” Again, her sharp, little chin lifted in challenge. “You take care of the bad guys. I’ll make sure that Emily and I are safe.”

“How are you planning to do that?”

“Reinforcements,” she said. “I’m going to call the Reuben twins to patrol the house and grounds. Both of these young men can shoot the fangs off a rattlesnake at a hundred yards.”

“Are they reliable?”

“They’ve worked for me since they were fifteen. In addition to chopping wood and handyman repairs, they know how to make a bed and prepare a proper table setting.”

He nodded his approval. “Make your call.”

“Actually, the twins will be happy to meet you. Their family’s hardware store hasn’t been doing well, and the boys have been talking about enlisting.”

Blake probably wasn’t the best person to act as an army recruiter. At age thirty-five, he was on the verge of retirement and had just one last tour of duty in about six months. Though he’d dedicated his life to the military, he’d had enough of war. “Do you mind stepping aside so I can search upstairs?”

She leaned her back against the wall beside the staircase. “Knock yourself out.”

As he climbed the stairs, he brushed past her and caught a whiff of a cinnamon scent, maybe her shampoo. A spicy fragrance suited her. In many ways, she reminded him of the strong, decisive women he served with.

The staircase bisected the upstairs hallway, and the carved wood bannister extended to his left in a balcony that looked down over a two-story view of the entryway. This open area was probably meant as a staging place for guests hauling their suitcases upstairs, but it made a perfect spot for a spy to quietly hide and observe the comings and goings at the B and B.

Earlier tonight, when he’d taken his secret tour of the house, Blake had gotten a sense of protectiveness and security. The eight bedrooms on the second floor could be easily defended. They were inaccessible except by the central staircase and a narrow stairway at the south end that communicated with the kitchen and went down into the basement. As far as he could tell, all the windows had been upgraded to triple pane, a thickness that not only kept in the warmth but made the glass almost bulletproof. The doors were heavy and well fitted. Jeremy had been accurate when he compared this place to a modern-day fortress.

Blake checked the bedrooms one by one, looking in the closets, poking in the corners and peeking under the beds. The furniture was sturdy pine, polished to a high gleam. And the rest of the decor was simple—as clean as the West Point cadet barracks but not as spartan. In addition to a breakfast menu and a map of the local trails, every room had a hint of nature—simple things, like a basket of pinecones or a Christmas cactus or a rock garden. He imagined Sarah planning these subtle touches that made her B and B feel welcoming and warm. He liked Bentley’s Bed-and-Breakfast and hoped the wedding could be held here in spite of the attack in the clearing. This location was preferable to a hotel, where he wouldn’t have as much control.

The third floor was a long, open room that extended all the way to the sloping eaves on one side. On the opposite side was a row of single beds against a pine wall that probably had storage behind it—a good hiding place with access through a padlocked door. Since the lock showed no sign of tampering, he felt satisfied that the area was secure.

Back on the second floor, he paused by the banister and looked down into the entryway where the two women were talking. Emily paced in an agitated dance. Her blond curls bounced in rhythm with her high-pitched voice as she waved her cell phone and ranted, “I can’t believe Jeremy suggested that we have the wedding somewhere else. Or that we postpone. Getting everybody’s schedule lined up was impossible.” Her tone shot up to a screech. “Impossible.”

Blake took a step back so he couldn’t be seen. Confronting that blonde maelstrom was akin to a suicide mission.

“Calm down,” Sarah said in her soothing alto. “Jeremy was just worried about you.”

“This was exactly the wedding I wanted. And so did Jeremy. We never planned on a three-hundred-person fancy ceremony where we didn’t know half the guests. Just family, just a nice cake and a few flowers on Valentine’s Day, that’s all I wanted.”

“And that’s what you’ll have,” Sarah promised. She’d changed out of her pajamas and parka to a pair of well-worn jeans and an oversize olive-green sweater with drooping sleeves that she’d pushed up on her slender wrists. She raked her fingers through her shining hair. Those vivid blond curls with the red highlights were the first thing Blake had noticed when they met. Then he’d been captivated by the intensity in her eyes with irises so dark that they were almost black.

“We should have eloped,” Emily wailed. “Run off to Vegas and gotten married.”

“You could still do that.”

“I’m not going to take my vows in front of a fake Elvis.” Emily stamped her little foot. “What does Blake say? It’d make a difference if he said we should do the ceremony here. Please talk to him, Sarah.”

“Why would that make a difference?”

“Please.”

Through the front windows, he saw the flashing lights of a police cruiser. Kovak had made good time in getting here. With any luck, he and the deputy could track down the men from the drilling site. Blake rushed down the staircase and opened the door. Two other officers accompanied Kovak. At a glance, Blake could tell that these were the kind of men he was accustomed to working with. They all wore Kevlar vests and police utility belts.

As soon as they entered, a truck pulled up and parked. Two husky young men bounded onto the porch—the Reuben twins. In their jeans, boots and parkas, they were a perfectly matched set with shaggy brown hair, stubble and toothy grins. Though the boys were doing their best to act cool, they quivered with excitement when they saw the bulletproof vests. Sarah pulled them aside to explain the situation.

Blake turned to Kovak. “Were you able to trace the license plate on the van?”

“The vehicle belongs to Tyler Farley.” He spoke with a slow Western drawl. “Farley and his pals are known hell-raisers but I wouldn’t have pegged them as assassins.”

“Why not?”

“Too many beers. Too few brains.”

As Blake had thought, Farley and his friends weren’t pros. They hadn’t even been clever enough to disguise their license plate. “Do they live nearby?”

“They’ve got a cabin about twenty minutes from here,” Kovak said. “I already sent one of my men to keep an eye on the place. And I’ve alerted the local hospitals and emergency clinics. They’ll call me if anybody shows up with a gunshot wound.”

“Contact your man. See if he’s close.”

While Kovak made his call, Blake considered the possibilities. Farley must have been hired to pull off that stunt at the drill site. If they arrested him and his pals, Blake was sure he could convince these backwoods bad guys to give up the name of the person they were working for. The dangerous complication came from their possession of a semiautomatic assault rifle that probably had an illegal magazine capacity under Colorado’s current gun laws.

Kovak held up his cell phone. “My man is there. The van is parked out front, and all the lights in the cabin are on.”

“Tell him not to engage until we get there,” Blake said. “If they leave, he should follow.”

“Yes, sir,” Kovak said. “I’m thinking we can bring these boys in without firing a single shot.”

Blake was glad to hear they were on the same page. As soon as Kovak finished his call, he said, “Let’s move. You take your car, and I’ll follow.”

A flash of strawberry-blond hair zoomed up beside him. “I’ll ride with you.”

Though she had a rifle in her hand, he wasn’t about to let Sarah ride shotgun. “We had an agreement,” he reminded her. “You stay safe, and I—”

“I promise not to get in the way.” She looked toward Kovak. “Do you care if I tag along?”