Beth Cornelison - Rancher's Covert Christmas

Moving carefully toward the exit, he lost sight of the blackmailer as he edged past a tall display of winter clothes set up to look like a Christmas tree. The exit was in sight. If he could cross the open area just inside the door, near the checkout counter without being seen...

He paused at the end of the aisle with hardware supplies, peering cautiously around the rack of axes and sledgehammers. The coast appeared clear. He took his opportunity and started quickly and quietly toward the front door.

“Leaving so soon?” The voice sent a curl of acid and frustration through him.

He sensed more than saw the source of the voice edging into his path, blocking the exit. He raised his head, nudging back the brim of his hat, to meet the leering expression on his tormenter’s face.

“What do you want?” he growled.

“I think you know damn well what I want.” The reply was hushed. Clearly the blackmailer didn’t want to draw attention any more than he did. Could he use that to his advantage?

“Step aside,” he said. “This isn’t the time or place.”

“Agreed. So meet me in the restroom. Two minutes.”

No. Go to hell, you and your threats. I’m done with you. Dear God, how he wanted to say as much to the source of his anxiety and grief for the past several months. But too much hung in the balance. The blackmailer knew it, too, and gloated over the power, the ability to destroy his life, if he didn’t do what was asked.

His enemy stepped away and disappeared down an aisle of nuts and screws. Appropriate, he thought with a derisive snort, since he was putting the screws to him. He thought of leaving, of ignoring the demand for a confrontation. But how could he risk incurring the wrath of his foe? One wrong step could trigger all the threatened repercussions to come down on him like a crapstorm. Worse, the blowback could hurt his family. His family was all he had, and he wouldn’t risk them to save himself.

Gritting his teeth, he made his way to the back of the store. He killed a minute gathering himself as he feigned interest in the bridles and bits displayed on the back wall. Then he stepped inside the unisex restroom in the rear hall. His tormentor was waiting for him.

“I’m tired of waiting.” No preamble or preliminaries. Straight to the point. “The herd doesn’t make it to auction. Understood? Enough with the piddling stabs and pokes meant to slow them down. I want you to slash the throat of the operation. A fatal blow. Now. This year’s herd.”

He’d been afraid that it would come to this. Bile rose, nearly gagging him. “How? Something that big won’t look like an accident.”

“That’s your problem. Just finish them! If the herd makes it to auction, they’ll skim by for another year. I’m not waiting another year to get my revenge.”

“But I—”

“No excuses. Either the ranch goes down or you do.”

He had to brace himself on the dirty sink as a wave of dread stampeded him.

His blackmailer put one hand on the doorknob and paused long enough to deliver a parting shot. “No more stalling. One way or another, I want the Double M to die!”

Zane studied the spreadsheet his sister, Piper, had prepared with the previous month’s expenses, and frowned. “Are you sure this is right?”

When she didn’t answer, he glanced up and met her raised-eyebrow, exasperated expression. “No, Zane. I just threw some random numbers on the page for kicks.”

He rolled his eyes. “I see marriage hasn’t made you less sarcastic.”

Mention of Piper’s recent wedding brought a quick smile to her lips. “Nor has it made me less meticulous with my numbers.” She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in the chair across the desk from him. “Besides, you ask me that every month, dork.”

She added a lopsided grin to soften the epithet his siblings had given him when they were kids.

“Yeah, okay.” He turned back to the computer screen and sighed. “Maybe I was just hoping there was better news than this. If we don’t start getting reservations and deposits soon, we’ll be out of cash before we open in April. I refuse to go back to Gill for another loan.”

Just the thought that his high school rival and all-around SOB oversaw the business loan for McCall Adventure Ranch soured his gut. The sooner he and his siblings could get out from under that debt the better. But the numbers Piper had presented him this morning showed a lot of red ink and expenditures.

“None of us want that,” Piper said and leaned down to pat the head of the family’s Maine Coon, Zeke. The cat rubbed against her shins and mewed at her. “I know, Zeke! Right?” she said to the cat. “See, even Zeke knows what a putz Gill is.” Dusting loose fur from her fingers as she rose from her chair, Piper flashed her brother a conspiratorial grin, which he returned. “I gotta go. I’m late.”

“You headed out to pick Connor up from school?” Zane asked without taking his eyes off the computer screen.

“Yep. What time do you expect that reporter to get in?”

Zane’s chest tightened. Even though his family had been enthusiastic about having the travel writer come visit, he remained skeptical. Sure, good publicity, free publicity, would be great for the adventure company. But he’d gotten a weird vibe from the Well Traveled reporter that he hadn’t been able to shake. He trusted his instincts about people, and the odd conversation they’d had set him on edge.

He flipped his wrist to check the time. “According to her last text, she should be here anytime now. She’s driving in from Boulder.”

“Hmm. Guess I’ll meet her when I get back then.” Piper shouldered her purse and rattled her car keys as she headed out.

“Tell my favorite nephew I said hi,” Zane called as she left the office.

Zeke, abandoned by Piper, moved on to demand attention from Zane. The cat hopped up on the desk and walked in front of the computer monitor, his fluffy tail swishing in Zane’s face. “Uh, excuse me, Fluffbutt.”

Zeke nudged Zane’s hand with his nose. Pulling an amused face, Zane scratched the cat behind the ear for a few moments then lifted him down to the floor. “Now, vamoose. I have work to finish before our guest arrives.” He gave the cat’s head a final pat before returning to the spreadsheets Piper had prepared.

He stared at the dismal numbers with a pit in his stomach. No matter how many ways he tried to rework or reimagine the company budget, the bottom line remained the same. The delays in opening, the expense of rebuilding the zip line and increased insurance premiums had hit the fledgling McCall Adventures hard. Really hard.

Zane jammed his fingers through his short-cropped hair and buzzed his lips as he exhaled his frustration. Zeke, who rarely took no for an answer, jumped into his lap and, purring loudly, head-butted Zane’s hand. He ruffled the cat’s head. “Thanks, pal. But what I need is about a hundred thousand dollars to get the business back in black.”

“Zane,” his twin brother Josh said, thumping his hand on the office door frame. “Your reporter just pulled in the front drive.”

“She’s not my reporter,” he replied, frowning, and not sure why the pronoun bothered him so much.

“You’re the one said she could come stay and write her article.” Josh hitched his head toward the front of the family house. “Yours or not, get out here and greet her.”

“You heard the man,” he told Zeke, shooing the cat to the floor as he pushed his chair back from the desk.

“Dad?” he called down the hall toward his father’s office, “Ms. Palmer’s here if you wanna come meet her.”

From the next door down, his father replied, “On a business call. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”