Part 8 (1/2)

”Stay where you are!” she yelled. ”Don't move.”

”Don't worry, ma'am,” he answered smoothly, keeping his arms out away from his body. ”My job is just to get you down off the mountain.”

Angela inched toward him, making certain she didn't stumble on the cave's jagged floor. She kept her finger on the trigger the whole time. ”Who sent you?” she demanded, stopping five feet away. She couldn't see much. Just a full curly beard and a s.h.a.ggy head of hair.

”People at the lodge. They were worried. They said you were supposed to be back a while ago.”

That seemed odd. They hadn't been gone that long. Of course, it was almost dark. Maybe that was what had them worried. But wouldn't he have come from the other direction if the lodge had sent him?

”Anybody else in there?” The man glanced past her into the cave.

”No,” she answered hesitantly. Shouldn't he know that John Tucker was supposed to be with her? Wouldn't people at the lodge have told him that?

”Wasn't there supposed to be someone with you? That's what they told me.”

”There was, but he went to scout around.”

”Scout around?”

”We had some trouble.”

”Trouble?”

”Yeah.”

The man glanced down at the pistol. ”Ma'am, I'd feel a whole lot better if you'd point that thing in another direction.”

Could I really shoot him? Could I really end another human being's life, even if he means me harm?she asked herself. ”Who owns this ranch?” she demanded.

”Jake Lawrence,” the man answered.

She could tell he knew he was being tested. ”Whoruns the ranch?”

The man chuckled. ”John Tucker, the son of a b.i.t.c.h.”

Angela let out a long breath, then lowered the gun slightly and blinked.

In that moment the man lunged, knocking her to the ground as she screamed and pulled the trigger twice. The bullets whined as they caromed about the cave, and then he was on top of her, slamming her hand against the rock floor fiercely until the gun skittered away. He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her to her feet. She could feel herself starting to go dizzy as her air supply was cut off.Never trust. Never trust. She clawed at his beard as he slammed her back against the wall, then spun her around.

”Where's Lawrence?” he hissed, lips to her ear as he pressed her cheek hard against the rough rock wall.

”At a cabin further up the mountain,” she moaned, grimacing in pain.

”What?”

She could feel his hot breath on her face. ”At the cabin.”

”But you're supposed to be with him.”

”Our meeting is over. He's probably gone.” She didn't know what else to say. ”Please stop hurting me.”

”This isn't right!” the man roared. ”Not right at all. G.o.dd.a.m.nit, you're supposed to be with him!”

”I don't know what to tell you.”

”Tell me where-”

She thrust her heel into the man's s.h.i.+n, and he groaned loudly. For a split second she was free and she broke for the back of the cave and the revolver. But he managed to trip her and fall on top of her heavily, knocking the wind from her lungs as they fell. She reached desperately for the gun, just inches from her fingertips, but his hand darted past hers and he tossed it further back into the darkness.

Suddenly she was being pulled to her feet again, her hands forced together behind her back, and he was pus.h.i.+ng her toward the cave entrance, the cliff, and five hundred feet straight down. She fought desperately, struggling to dig her toes into the ground, but he was too powerful and she closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself for the terror of the plunge and the horrible impact. Perhaps this was why she had hated heights since childhood. Perhaps somehow she had known she would die this way.

She opened her eyes wide as they burst from the cave and screamed wildly as the man propelled her the last few feet. The canyon stretched out before her, sheer walls falling to a frozen river. This had to be a nightmare. She was going to wake up in her room at the lodge, on the edge of the sleigh bed, about to tumble to the floor. This couldn't be happening. ”No! My G.o.d, no!”

And then they were both down on the trail, faces buried in the snow after a powerful impact. Angela could feel her head and shoulders hanging over the edge of the cliff, nothing but air beneath her. Her attacker was trying desperately to push her over, and she clawed wildly at the snow, digging for anything to hold on to. For an instant she found a rock, but it popped from the ground as she grabbed it and she was sliding further over oblivion.

Then strong hands clamped down on her ankles, then her legs, and she was being dragged away from danger and pulled to her feet. Lawrence's personal army had turned into her personal cavalry and suddenly she was safe. There were four of them around her, brus.h.i.+ng the snow from her clothes and asking her if she was all right. She nodded, unable to speak, catching glimpses of her attacker being pummeled by four more of the guards a few feet away. He was shouting at them in a foreign language she didn't recognize.

Two of the men who had rescued her stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the scuffle. She strained to see, but once more they moved to block her view. When she was able to see again, her attacker was gone. For a few moments she didn't understand what had happened, then the realization set in. He was off the cliff into the abyss. Dead. She stared at the empty s.p.a.ce where he'd just been, dazed.

Then she glanced to her right, between two of the men who had rescued her, and directly into the burning eyes of William Colby.

It was almost midnight, and he was tired of trying to pick up the woman. She was with two female friends who'd made it clear with their withering looks across the bar that they weren't going to let her go home with him. Besides, he had an important sales call in the morning, and he didn't want to have to drive her back to her car when they were done. She wasn'tthat good looking.

So he downed the rest of his beer, tossed his business card at her as a courtesy, and headed out the tavern door across a deserted parking lot toward his Lexus. As he neared the car, he thought he could see a man leaning against it through the darkness.

”Hey, off the car, hemorrhoid.” No reaction, and now he could see two of them. ”I said, off the-” He swallowed his words when they broke from the car and raced toward him. He tried to run and at the same time pull his cell phone from his pocket. But they were on him quickly, pus.h.i.+ng him to the ground roughly and s.n.a.t.c.hing the phone. ”What's going on?” he stammered as one of the men grabbed him by his collar and yanked him to his feet. The attacker was the size of a double door refrigerator. ”There's been some mistake.”

”There's been no mistake.”

”What do you want?”

”You're gonna get a call tomorrow.”

”A call?”

”You'll do what the caller tells you to do.Exactly what he tells you to do.”

”All right,” he gasped.

The refrigerator tightened his grip. ”You understand?”

”Yes.”

”Good. You don't do what you're told, and you'll see us again. And next time it'll be a lot worse,” the refrigerator growled, slamming his huge fist into the man's midsection.

The other one dropped the man's phone on top of him, and then they were gone, faded into the night, leaving the man to try to figure out what had just happened as he clutched his stomach and gasped for air.