CHAPTER NINETEEN
“WHAT THE HELL is this?” Buckmaster demanded, holding up a sheet of paper. He’d gotten to the personal mail before Angelina, and from the expression on her face she’d hoped that wouldn’t happen.
He watched her brace herself, straightening to her full height of five-nine, her shoulders locking back and her beautiful face setting like granite. She was up for a fight, and he was ready to give her one.
“A retainer fee? You hired a private detective?” All he could think was that she had some bastard spying on him.
“You weren’t going to get the goods on Sarah, so I had to do it,” she said, blue eyes sparking with defiance.
“Sarah?” It took him a moment, because this wasn’t what he’d expected. “You’re having someone trail Sarah?” So basically, that would mean he’d been right in the first place. Every time he met Sarah, she would know about it.
She waved a hand through the air as she shook her head. “He’s finding out if any of what she told you about her life was true.”
He found himself staring at Angelina more and more since Sarah had returned from the dead. She thought he didn’t know Sarah? He wanted to laugh. What the sheriff had told him about his first wife had proven that. Hell, he’d thought he knew the woman standing in front of him, but boy had he been wrong about that.
So maybe he didn’t know who Sarah was—just as Angelina said. What difference did it make at this point? The sheriff was worried that Sarah would do something, though he had no idea what. Angelina was convinced Sarah had ulterior motives, as well. But so far Sarah had done...nothing.
The woman couldn’t even remember most of her life. She didn’t seem like much of a threat to him. Unfortunately, Angelina was clearly not letting it go.
“I understand you’re suspicious, but hiring a private detective? You’re the one who’s so paranoid about scandal. Did you give any thought to what the press would make of this if it got out?”
She glared at him, all her defenses up. “Someone needs to protect you from yourself.”
He laughed at that, one of his big, hearty laughs. It felt good. He hadn’t realized how long it had been. “Angelina, you are the most amazing woman.”
Her eyes narrowed, as she tried to decide if he was being sarcastic.
“I mean it. You never cease to amaze me. You get your teeth into something, and you’re like a rat terrier. No way you’re letting go. I love that about you.”
All the defiance and belligerence that had made both her expression and her stone face soften in that instant seemed to drain from her face. She looked so vulnerable that he reached out and pulled her to him.
Unlike Sarah, she’d never felt small and fragile in his arms—until that moment.
He pressed his lips against her hair and breathed in her scent. “I’m sure glad you’re on my side.” He thought about telling her that the PI had been a waste of money. That Sarah Johnson Hamilton wasn’t a threat. That it wouldn’t be long before they would be living in the White House.
Instead, he simply held her and tried not to worry about what this very expensive private investigator might find.
* * *
THE SHERIFF ALONG with Senator Buckmaster Hamilton, a half dozen of his men and a small group of search and rescue personnel rode up into the Crazy Mountains not long after sunrise.
Buckmaster said he’d told Jace Calder that if he didn’t hear from him in twenty-four hours, he would be sending in the cavalry. But this was ridiculous.
“Senator, let the trained personnel—”
Buckmaster cut him off. “I’m going, and so are my men. We need as many as we can to find her.”
Frank made another attempt, knowing he was talking to the wind. “This many people can destroy leads up there if—”
The senator gave a shake of his head as he swung up into his saddle. “No more standing around talking. I’m finding my daughter, and that’s all there is to it.”
Frank gave up, mounted his horse and rode after the senator. He had chosen to accompany the senator and his men rather than ride in one of two helicopters that would be searching for Bo and Jace later. If they didn’t find her, several National Guard helicopters would be called in the next day.
The early morning was bathed in mist. Dew glistened on the grass and pine boughs as the sun began its arc skyward. A chill still hung in the air that even the summer sun couldn’t chase away as they headed up the well-worn trail from Hamilton Ranch.
The leader of the search and rescue team would be going up in the helicopter with several of their dogs. Buckmaster had provided some of Bo’s clothing to help in the search. Frank had more faith that they would find the missing woman—if the forecasted storm didn’t hit first. They would be going past a spot where the county search and rescue plane had spotted Jace Calder.
The storm right now was a concern even more than the unforgiving Crazies that rose above them. The mountains were dense with towering pines, jagged sheer cliffs and fast-moving streams. Even in early summer, snow still clung to the north side of some of the peaks. The terrain looked as forbidding as it was. There were too many miles of canyons and gullies up here. So much wild country. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had gotten lost in it. Or the last.
He didn’t want to think about what the chances were that they would find Bo Hamilton. He just hoped Jace Calder wasn’t lost, as well. As for Ray Spencer...well, his hope was that the man really was in Reno right now playing penny slots somewhere off the Strip.
Frank waited for his radio to squawk with news as he heard two helicopters fly over on their way along the ridge to the last spot Jace Calder had been seen while following Bo.
He kept telling himself that Jace was smart and experienced. But he was tracking Bo. If she got off the trail... Even seasoned outfitters like John Cole got turned around occasionally. After a while, all the pine-covered mountainsides looked alike. Throw in a storm...
Frank remembered getting lost up there when he was seventeen. He’d been elk hunting and had left camp. When it had started to snow so quickly, he hadn’t been prepared. Before long he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. He realized he was walking in circles when he crossed his own tracks. If John Cole hadn’t found him...
As he looked toward the mountains, the sheriff couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad had happened. The options up in these mountains were limitless—even without a man like Raymond Spencer possibly in the mix.
* * *
RAY FELT A wave of relief at the sight of his father, even knowing that the shit was about to hit the fan.
“What have ya done?” RayJay Spencer asked in a slow drawl as he took in his son’s condition.
“The bastard shot me,” Ray said. He’d ridden in the direction of the sound of his father’s horn—southwest. The ride had done nothing for his wound. It was bleeding again, leaving him feeling weak. Like the blood, his anger had run out, as well. Now he was shaking and scared.
“How bad is it?” the old man asked impatiently as he swung down out of his saddle.
“Bad.” He practically fell off his horse as he got down holding his side. “Hurts like blazes.”
“Let me see it.” His father shoved his hand away from the wound. “Who done this to ya?”
Ray shook his head. The old man was mad enough that he’d gone and gotten himself shot. He hated to think what RayJay would do once he heard about the woman.
“Over here,” his father ordered, motioning to a downed log. “Sit.” Pulling up his shirt, RayJay probed the wound, making him howl in pain. “Stop bein’ a crybaby. Let me see yer back. The bullet went straight through. Don’t look like it hit nothin’.”
He watched the older man go to his saddlebag and come back with a quart of whiskey. Picking up a stick, RayJay shoved it at him. “Here, bite on this.” He stuck the stick between his teeth an instant before he felt the booze hit the wound.
He must have passed out. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground, blinking up at the sun bright above the trees.
“’Bout time,” his old man said. He looked down to see that his side was bandaged. “Take these.” He handed him two pills, which he swallowed without water. “That should keep ya alive. Least for now.”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
“So where’s this bastard that shot ya?”
Ray struggled to get up, but his old man pushed him back down.
“What ain’t you tellin’ me?” RayJay asked.
He spilled the story in between his old man cussing and threatening to kill him.
“Ya have any idea what ya’ve done?” his father demanded with a shake of his head.
“I want her.”
RayJay kicked him hard in the thigh and mimicked, “‘I want her.’ It’s cuz a her ya got shot. Cuz a her they’ll be crawlin’ these mountains lookin’ for all a us.”
“What we goin’ to do, Daddy?”
His father turned and started for his horse. He thought for a moment that his old man would leave him right where he lay to die alone.
“I don’t know what yer goin’ to do,” RayJay said as he turned back to him, a gun in his hand. “But I know what I’m doin’. The only thing I can under the circumstances.”
* * *
“JACE,” BO CALLED. He’d been walking ahead of her and the horse, watching the country in front of them, calculating how long it would take them to get out of these mountains. Worse, whether they could stay ahead of the man he was convinced would be coming after them.
“Jace.” He heard the squeak of leather as she reined in and swung down out of the saddle before he turned.
“What is it?” he asked as she stooped to look at his horse’s right leg. He swore under his breath. He could see at a distance that his horse was favoring that leg. He’d feared an injury after they had both ridden the horse last night.
Bo said nothing as she moved out of the way to let him inspect the horse. “We’re going to have to walk him,” he said, rising again. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse.
She nodded, clearly trying to look stronger than she actually was.
At the sound of a rifle shot in the distance, they both started.
“I thought you said he didn’t have a firearm other than the ones in his pack that he had to leave behind?” he demanded in a hushed voice.
“He didn’t,” she said, her voice not above a whisper. “That couldn’t have been him.” She stood, her head cocked as if listening hard. Three shots could be a signal that someone was looking for them.
Jace could see that she was praying for two more. So was he, but the shots didn’t come. He watched her eyes widen in alarm. The desperation in her face was so pronounced that he realized they were in more trouble than he’d first thought.
“You know who fired that shot?” he asked.
She nodded, looking sick. “It’s his father.”
“Raymond Spencer’s?”
“He told me his father would be joining us. He heard what sounded like a horn of some kind and said it was his father on his way.”
Jace swore under his breath. That must have been the sound he’d heard resembling an elk bugle. They already had one killer tracking them. All they needed was his possibly even more dangerous father. Hadn’t he seen on the news that Spencer’s father was an ex-military sniper turned antigovernment survivalist? And that the father had brought Spencer up into these mountains to live for long periods?
“And you didn’t think to mention this?”
“He made it sound as if his father would be meeting up with us farther back in the mountains. Could you tell how far away that shot was?”
He shook his head. “It’s impossible in the mountains to tell where it came from or at what distance.” It wasn’t nearly far enough away, that much he knew.
She met his gaze, her green eyes wide with fear. “What do you think he shot?”
“Whatever it was, he apparently hit it without having to fire again,” Jace said, feeling his stomach roil. He just hoped to hell Buckmaster hadn’t sent anyone else up here looking for Bo.
Bo stood trembling and clearly close to tears. “It was his father who always talked about the two of them living back in here, building a cabin, living off the land. Ray...” Her voice broke. “He had this insane idea that, with me as his wife, the three of us would live up here. He told me he would protect me from his father even if he had to kill him.”
And she thought a man like that wasn’t going to follow her? “So we have to assume there’s two of them coming after us,” he said, wondering how things could get worse. “And that neither of them is on foot.” He figured the father would have brought up horses and supplies if the plan had been to live back in the mountains for a long time. “They’ll have fresh horses and probably medical supplies. If Ray isn’t too badly wounded...”
“What are we going to do?”
The way Jace saw it, they had two options, neither of them ideal. They could continue to make a run for it on foot or they could hole up and fight. Given that the older man was bringing up provisions for the two to live indefinitely, he had to assume firepower was part of the supplies. He’d run across a few survivalists. They typically liked guns. Big guns.
“We have no choice. We have to try to outrun them.”
“On foot?”
He gave her a look. “Unless you have another way of getting out of these mountains.”
“I’m sorry I got you into this. But if being angry at me makes it easier for you, please don’t let me stop you.” Fear had her fired up, ready for a fight.
“Let’s not make this personal,” Jace said.
“Not make it personal?” she cried. At least her anger had held off her tears. He could be thankful for that, he told himself. He needed her to hold it together so he could get her off this mountain.
“Why did you really come after me?” she demanded. “To rub my face in it? You actually thought I had absconded with the money and had met some...man up here, didn’t you?”
He couldn’t deny it. “Right now all I care about is getting you out of these mountains alive so—”
“So I can go to prison.”
He met her gaze. “Bo—”
She shook her head and, turning on her heel, started down the trail as if she wasn’t tired, her feet didn’t hurt and she hadn’t been running on fear for days now.
Jace smiled to himself at the stiff set of her spine, the angry tilt of her head, the agitated swinging of her arms as he followed, leading the horse. It wasn’t as though she was ever going to talk to him after this anyway.