Cassie Miles - Mountain Blizzard

He leaned closer, whispered in her ear. “What is it, Emily? What do you want to say?”

The words came tumbling out. “Frankie is here in Colorado. The Wynter family has a gated compound over near Aspen. I didn’t come here to give up on my investigation. I need to go deeper.”

He grasped her upper arms. “Leave this to the police.”

From downstairs, there was a scream.

Chapter Three

“Aunt Hazel!”

Though Emily’s immediate reaction was to run toward the sound of the scream, Sean only allowed her to take two steps before he grabbed her around the middle and yanked her so hard that her feet left the floor. This was why he’d been hired.

He dragged her across the bedroom. There was only one thought in his mind: get her to safety. In the attached bathroom, he set her down beside a claw-foot tub.

“Stay here,” he ordered as he drew his gun. “Keep quiet.”

“The hell I will.”

Though he hated to waste time with explanation, she needed to know what was going on. He spoke in a no-nonsense tone. “If there’s been a break-in, they’re after you. If you turn yourself in, we have no leverage. For your Aunt Hazel’s safety, you need to avoid being taken captive.”

“Okay, help her.” Her face flushed red with fear and anger. Her eyes were wild. She pushed at his shoulder with both hands. “Hurry!”

Moving fast, he crossed to her closed bedroom door. He wished he was wearing boots instead of just socks. If he had to go outside, his feet would turn to ice. He paused at the door and mentally ran through the layout of the house. From the upstairs landing, he could see the front door. He’d know if someone had broken in that way.

Sean was confident in his ability to handle one intruder, maybe two. But Frankie Wynter had a lot of thugs at his disposal, and they were loyal; one guy was willing to face a murder rap for the boss’s son. One—or two or more—of them might be standing outside her bedroom door right now.

But he didn’t hear anything. Outside, the snow rattled against the windows. The wind whistled. From downstairs, he heard shuffling noises. A heavy fist rapping at the door? A muffled shout. Sean turned the knob, pulled the door open and braced the gun in his hands, ready to shoot.

There was no one on the upstairs landing.

Emily dashed to his side. “Let me help. Please!”

He’d told her to stay back and she chose to ignore him. Emily was turning into a problem. “Is that tub in the bathroom made of cast iron?”

“It’s antique. Now is not the time for a home tour.”

“Get inside the tub and stay there.” At least, she wouldn’t be hit by a stray bullet.

“I’m coming with you.”

Was she trying to drive him crazy or was this stubborn, infuriating behavior just a part of her natural personality? He couldn’t exactly remember. He’d had damn good reasons for divorcing this woman. “No time to argue. Just accept the fact that I know what I’m doing.”

“I need a gun.”

“What you need is to listen to me.”

“Please, Sean! You always carry two guns. Give one to me.”

He pulled the Glock from his ankle holster and slapped it into her hand. “Do you remember how to use this?”

She recited the rules he’d taught her one golden afternoon six years ago in Big Sur. “Aim and don’t close my eyes. No traditional safety on a Glock, so keep my finger off the trigger until I’m ready. Squeeze—don’t yank.”

“You’ve got the basics.”

He’d treated their lessons like a game and had never insisted that she take his weapon from the combination safe when he was on assignment and she was alone at home. While he was working undercover, he’d worried about her safety, worried that she’d be hurt and it would be his fault. There was a strange irony in the fact that she’d put herself in ten times more danger than he could imagine.

He peered through the open bedroom door onto the upstairs landing where an overhead light shone down on the southwestern decor that dominated the house: a Navajo rug, a rugged side table and a cactus in an earthenware pot. A long hallway led to other bedrooms. The front edge of the landing was a graceful black wrought-iron staircase overlooking the foyer and chandelier by the front door.

Sean peered over the railing.

A menacing silence rose to greet him. He didn’t like the way this was going. Emily’s aunt wasn’t the type of woman who cowered in silence. He gestured for Emily to stay upstairs while he descended.

At the foot of the staircase, he caught a glimpse of flying kimono dragons when Hazel raced across the foyer and skidded to a stop right in front of him.

She glared. “Where the heck is my rifle?”

Looking down from the landing, Emily said, “I moved it to the front closet.”

“I had my gun right by the door,” she said to Sean. “Emily shouldn’t have moved it. Out of sight, out of mind.”

The women in this family simply didn’t grasp what it took to be cautious and safe. They needed ten bodyguards apiece. He rushed Hazel up the stairs, where she hugged Emily. The two of them commiserated as though the threat were over and done with. Had they forgotten that there might be an intruder?

“Hazel,” he barked, “why did you scream?”

“I heard something outside and looked through the window. A fat lot of good it did, the snow’s coming down so hard I couldn’t see ten feet. But I caught a glimmer...headlights. I went toward the front door for a better look. At the exact same time, I heard somebody crashing against the back door like they were trying to bust it down. That’s when I screamed.”

Sean figured that five minutes had passed since they’d heard Hazel’s cry for help. “After you screamed, what did you do?”

“I hid.”

“Smart,” he said. “You didn’t reveal your hiding spot until you saw me.”

She nodded, and her short silver hair bounced.

“Did you see the intruder? Did he make a noise? Was there more than one?”

“Well, my hearing isn’t what it once was, but I’m pretty sure there was only one voice. And I guarantee that nobody made enough noise to tear down the back door.”

As Sean herded Emily and her aunt into Emily’s bedroom, he tallied up the possible ways to break into the house. In addition to front and back door and many windows, there was likely an entrance to a root cellar or basement. The best way to limit access to the two women was to keep them upstairs. Unfortunately, it also meant they had no escape.

From Emily’s bedroom, he peered through the window to the area where the cars were parked. He squinted. “I can see the outline of a truck.”

“So?”

“Do you recognize it?” Is that Frankie Wynter’s truck?

“We’re in the mountains, Sean. Every other person drives a truck.”

A coating of snow had already covered the truck bed; he couldn’t tell if anybody had been riding in back. But the vehicle showed that someone else was on the property, even if there hadn’t been other noises from downstairs.

He gave Emily a tight smile. “Stay here with Hazel. Take care of her.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ll check the doors and other points of access.”

Her terse nod was a match for his smile. They were both putting on brave faces and tamping down the kind of tension that might cause your hand to tremble or your teeth to chatter. When she rested her hand against his chest, he was reminded of the early days in their marriage when she’d say goodbye before he left on assignment.

“Be careful, Sean.”

He tore his gaze away from her turquoise eyes and her rose petal lips. Her trust made him feel strong and brave, even if he wasn’t facing a real dragon. He was girding his loins, like a knight protecting his castle. In the old days, they would have kissed.