As the engine sound grew louder, Daphne’s pulse quickened. She tossed the diaper bag into the backseat and ran back to the house.

Boomer was right behind her, holding his rifle in his hands, not slung over his shoulder.

When Daphne burst through the door, Chuck and Hank stood.

“What’s wrong?” Hank asked.

“We can hear the sound of engines,” Daphne said.

“Engine or engines,” Chuck asked.

“Engines,” Boomer confirmed as he stepped up beside Daphne.

“Time to rock and roll.” Hank tossed his truck keys to Chuck. “Hunker down until we get them to follow us, and then get Maya down the mountain.”

Chuck held Maya in the crook of his arm. “Will do. For now, I’ll take her into the back room in case there’s any shooting.”

Hank nodded and shrugged into his jacket. “Let’s do this.” He led the way out the door and to his truck where he pulled protective vests from the toolbox in the back. He handed one to Daphne and one to Boomer.

She shed her coat and slipped on the vest.

Then Hank reached in and pulled out a small case, popped the latch on it and lifted a small handgun out of the foam padding. “Chuck assured me you know how to use one of these.”

She nodded and took the weapon.

He handed her a belt with a black leather holster.

Daphne didn’t ask questions. She wrapped the belt around her waist and hooked the buckle.

Then she donned her jacket, making sure the holster wasn’t covered.

The engine sounds were getting closer. If they planned on getting out of there, they had to do it soon.

Boomer threw open the overhead door to the shed and straddled one of the snowmobiles. In seconds, he had the engine humming and pulled out onto the snow. He handed her a helmet.

Daphne pulled on the helmet, letting her long blond hair tumble down her back, in sharp contrast to the black jacket she wore. There would be no denying a blond female was on the back of the vehicle.

She climbed on the back and wrapped her arms around his waist. With a gun on her hip and a SEAL to hold onto, she felt unstoppable.

Hank climbed onto the other snowmobile and revved the engine. In the next moment, four snowmobiles appeared over the hilltop.

“There they are!’ Daphne shouted over the roar of the motors.

“Hold on tight!” Boomer hit the throttle and sent the snowmobile skidding around in a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn, heading past the house and up to the top of the ridge.

Daphne clung to Boomer’s middle as her bottom slid sideways on the sharp turn. She tightened her arms around his middle. The only way she’d come off the seat of the snowmobile was if Boomer came off with her. She refused to slow them down.

The rear end of the snowmobile skidded to one side and then straightened, the tracks digging into the snow and gravel beneath, shooting them forward.

Hank took the rear position, covering them from behind. The plan was to split up and lead the cleanup team on a wild goose chase through the mountains. When they reached a decent position, Boomer and Hank would attempt to take them out before the bad guys had a chance to hurt them.

Daphne glanced over her shoulder, and her heartbeat rocketed.

The four snowmobiles raced toward them, flying up over bumps and across the rugged terrain.

Her grip tightened again as they topped the ridge on the other side of the chalet.

Boomer slowed long enough to make sure all four snowmobiles were following them.

Hank pulled up beside them and looked back.

The group of riders flew past the house and followed their tracks up the side of the hill.

“Go!” Hank said.

Boomer gunned the accelerator, sending the snowmobile over the ridge and down a steep slope to the valley below.

Hank followed, paralleling them, but not so close that if he lost control he’d come crashing into them.

The four snowmobiles shot over the top of the ridge and plummeted toward the valley floor.

Daphne gasped.

The bad guys were traveling so fast that if they didn’t slow, they’d either wreck at the bottom or overtake the two men and one woman before they had time to escape. Boomer’s snowmobile was slower with two people on it. At the rate everyone was moving, it was only a matter of time before the gang following them caught up.

On the verge of second guessing her decision to use herself as bait, Daphne was surprised when Boomer topped a hill, rounded a bend in the terrain and climbed a steep incline, placing them on top of an overhang.

Hank spent a few precious minutes swishing a tree branch to cover their trail, and then took off on his snowmobile, laying down a fresh trail for their pursuers to follow.

Boomer shut down their engine, leaped off the seat and pulled out his rifle. “Stay down.” He lay in the snow on the edge of the little cliff. Using the barrel of his rifle, he cleared a V-shaped wedge in the snow.

Daphne slipped off the snowmobile and dropped into the snow, low-crawling up to Boomer’s left side.

They didn’t speak, just waited.

Moments later, the four snowmobiles appeared.

Boomer’s body tensed. He gripped his rifle in his hand, inhaled deeply and let the air out slowly, his eye trained on the scope.

“Do we know for sure these are the men who are after me?” Daphne asked.

“You want to walk down there and ask?”

She shook her head. “What if they’re just recreational snowmobilers?”

Boomer’s finger froze on the trigger.

As Daphne watched, the lead snowmobile came to a halt on the path below. The rider pulled off his goggles and motioned for the next man to move forward on his machine.

“You tell me. Is that Cooper or one of his hired guns?” Boomer leaned his head to the side “Look for yourself.”

Daphne laid her cheek against his and stared down the scope. For a moment everything was blurred. Then she moved a little to the right and the images cleared.

The man who’d removed his goggles had dark hair and heavily tanned skin. He pulled a rifle from the scabbard on the side of the snowmobile and turned toward their position.

Daphne sucked in a sharp breath.

“Recognize him?” Boomer whispered.

Her heart pounded against her ribs. The man below her was one of the guys who’d swept in to carry off Cooper’s kill in Cozumel.

Daphne leaned away from Boomer and pinched the bridge of her nose to keep from shouting out loud. “He’s a member of the cleanup crew I saw in Cozumel.”

The mercenary lifted the rifle to his shoulder. He stared into the scope and spun in a circle, searching his surroundings. The man slowed as he raised his rifle to the top of the hill where Boomer and Daphne perched on the edge of the cliff.

His eyes narrowed, and a loud bang echoed off the hillside.

The snow beside Daphne puffed upward, dusting her face.

Boomer laid a hand on her head and pushed her down.

Daphne gladly lay with her cheek in the cold, white snow, afraid to raise her head for fear of getting it blown off. She watched Boomer as he resumed his position, stared down the scope and squeezed the trigger.

Daphne gasped and shoved a fist into her mouth to keep from crying out, then couldn’t resist taking a peek.

Below, the gunman staggered backward, clutching his chest.

One of the other men slid off his snowmobile and dropped behind it. The tip of a rifle appeared above the seat.

“Daphne, stay down,” Boomer urged.

The crack of a rifle being fired split the snow-covered silence of the mountains.

Daphne hugged the earth, making a crater in the snow.

Engines revved and moved out.

Boomer trained his weapon on the movement below and fired off another round.

Daphne looked up long enough to see two snowmobiles race off. The man who’d been shooting at them lay on his back, a bright red stain in the snow surrounding his head.

Daphne’s stomach roiled and she looked around. “Where did the other two riders go?”

“I don’t know.”

Her heartbeat quickened, and she came halfway up on her knees. “You don’t think they went back to the chalet, do you?”

Boomer leaned dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

Daphne grabbed a handful of his jacket to keep him from sliding off and crashing to the bottom a hundred feet down.

“Their tracks lead away from the house, but I’m hearing engine noise echoing off the hills. I can’t tell where they’re going.” He scooted back from the drop-off and stood with his head tilted, a frown denting his brow. “Do you hear that?”

Daphne listened, her heart pounding against her ribs. The thumping sound of rotor blades whipping the air came to her over the hills.

“Helicopter,” Boomer said.

“Good guys or bad guys?” Daphne asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

A shiver shook her from head to toe. “Do you think Chuck and Maya got away?”

“Only one way to know.” He pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “We need to get back to the chalet.”

She nodded, her gaze dropping to his lips. “Whatever happens between to the two of us, I want you to know, what we shared in Cozumel was the happiest time of my life.”

His gaze darkened. “And mine.” He lowered his head and captured her lips in a swift kiss that left her breathless and wanting so much more.

When Boomer raised his head, he touched a finger to her lips. “Hang onto that thought. I don’t want to lose you again.” He climbed onto the snowmobile.

Her heart surged with a rush of happiness. Boomer held out his arm to help her balance as she slipped on behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back. Hope surged.

Just as Boomer started the engine, a single snowmobile appeared on the road below, followed by the two that had disappeared minutes before.

“Hank’s in trouble,” Boomer said.

Her heart banging against her ribs, Daphne leaned close to Boomer’s ear to be heard over the sound of the engine. “We have to help.”

Boomer’s chest swelled.

The woman he’d fallen in love with on the resort island of Cozumel was brave and selfless. She’d sacrifice her own life for her daughter’s, and she’d chase the enemy to save a friend.

She deserved a better man than him, but he wanted her and couldn’t think of a future without her in it. And he wanted to get to know his baby girl. Maya looked like him. If her personality was anything like his, she’d be a handful. She needed someone who would understand her and help channel her energy and curiosity into something productive. Daphne would be patient and loving, the kind of mother any little girl could need.

Boomer shook his head to clear his thoughts. Right at the moment, he needed his wits about him, needed sharp focus to help Hank and keep Daphne from being hurt.

He raced down the side of the hill and followed the two snowmobiles gaining on Hank.

Hank veered his vehicle off the trail and climbed a hill. When he reached the top, he stopped suddenly. Then he raced his snowmobile across the ridgeline.

Why wasn’t he going down the other side?

The two bad guys powered up the hill after him. Thankfully, the terrain demanded both hands on the handlebars to keep the snowmobile moving steadily forward. The riders couldn’t pull out weapons to fire on Hank.

But as they climbed the hill after Hank, they were exposed and vulnerable.

Boomer brought the snowmobile to a halt.

“What are you doing?” Daphne shouted over the roar of the engine. “We have to help Hank.”

Nodding, he shut off the engine, pulled his rifle from the sleeve he’d strapped to the snowmobile and rested the barrel across the handlebars.

Daphne slipped off the back of the snowmobile into a foot-and-a-half-deep snowdrift, giving Boomer more room to take aim.

He held steady, his sight trained on the snowmobile in the lead. When he was sure, he pulled the trigger.

The man on the vehicle in the lead jerked, and his hand flew into the air. The snowmobile turned, teetered and rolled sideways down the hill, throwing its rider in the process.

The second snowmobile spun and raced back down the hill, zigzagging, making the driver a more difficult target.

Boomer aimed, anticipating the next move and squeezed the trigger.

The driver jerked the handlebars. The snowmobile rocked up on one skid and dropped back to the earth, careening to the bottom of the hill where it crashed into a tree.

Hank turned his snowmobile and eased down the hillside.

Boomer trained his sights on the figure lying beside the crashed vehicle. The man moved, dragging himself through the snow toward what appeared to be a rifle that had been thrown ten feet from the crash site.

Fortunately, Hank reached the man before the man reached the rifle.

He kicked the rifle out of range of the man on the ground and pulled the man’s arms behind him, securing them with a zip-tie.

“Hank has the last man secured.” Boomer sat up on the snowmobile, sheathed the rifle in its scabbard and scooted forward making room for Daphne.

“Wow,” she said, her voice soft and shaky. “You’re really good with that rifle.”

He turned to her, his brow descending as he studied her expression. “It was either them or us.”

She nodded.

He waited, looking for her reaction and wondering if she could stomach this part of him.

“I know,” she said softly. “I’m just glad you’re with us.” Daphne slid onto the seat behind him and wrapped her arms around him.

He liked the way it felt with her arms and legs pressed close. When they got back to Hank’s house, he had to come to grips with his feelings for her and Maya and somehow convince himself and Daphne that he could be a part of their lives.

Boomer drove the snowmobile to where Hank had the man secured.

His boss had tended to a wound on the man’s shoulder, packing it with fabric torn from the aggressor’s T-shirt. Once he’d stemmed the flow of blood, he helped the man onto the back of his snowmobile, securing his wrists to the leather strap across the seat. “Let’s see who we have here.” He pulled off the man’s helmet and glanced at Daphne. “Anyone you know?”

The injured man had dark hair and dark eyes. His face was pale from blood loss, and his head lolled a little, his eyes rolling as he tried to remain upright.

She shook her head. “Never saw him before now.”

Hank snorted. “Another mercenary.” He shoved the helmet back on his head and secured the strap. “We’ll have to take it slow to get back to the chalet.”

Boomer nodded. “You take the lead. If he falls off, I’ll help you get him back on.”

Hank eased the snowmobile up onto the trail, heading back the way they’d come. From the top of the ridge overlooking the chalet, Hank slowed and waited for Boomer to catch up. He removed his goggles and shot a glance at Boomer. “My truck is still there.”

Boomer’s gut clenched.

“What do you mean?” Daphne slid off the back of the snowmobile and stood looking down at the chalet. “Chuck and Maya should be halfway to your ranch.” She grabbed the rifle from the scabbard.

Boomer reached out to take it, but she stepped out of reach.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

She squinted, staring through the scope. “Both trucks are still there.”

Boomer laid his palm over the top of the rifle. Sighing she let him take it.

Hank dismounted from the snowmobile and walked several yards across the ridge to view the chalet from a different angle. He stopped suddenly and cursed.

“What?” Boomer asked.

“There’s a helicopter parked in the clearing on the far side of the chalet.” He shook his head. “What do you want to bet they’ve captured Chuck and Maya?”

Daphne gasped. “Maya.” She took off running toward the trail leading down to the chalet.

Boomer caught up to her and then, holding the rifle away, he grabbed her arm and yanked her into his embrace. “What do you think you’re going to do?”

She struggled against his hold. “Whatever it takes to free my baby.”

“She’s my baby, too. And running down there will only get you both killed.”

“I can’t let them hurt Maya.” Daphne shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “She’s my life. She’s all I have. I love her so much it hurts.”

With his free arm, he pulled her more tightly against his chest, trapping her arms against his body. “Sweetheart, she’s mine, too. I promise you we’ll get her back.”

“Alive?” Daphne lifted her head and bit her lip. Tears dripped from her chin.

Her pain-filled glance tore at him. “Alive,” he promised, though he wasn’t sure how he’d accomplish that feat. “Right now, you’re the only thing keeping them from hurting her. Maya’s their leverage.”

Hank returned to stand beside them. “He’s right. They want you. To get you, they’ll use whatever they can to lure you out into the open.”

Daphne tried again to shake off Boomer’s embrace. “Then let me go.”

He shook his head. “If you go down there now, they’ll shoot you. Once you’re dead, they have no reason to keep Maya alive.”

“But they want me, not Maya.”

“They won’t leave any of us alive,” Hank said. “We’d be more witnesses to be disposed of.”

“But we can’t stand here and do nothing,” she wailed, pushing at his chest. “There’s no telling what they’re doing to Maya, and to Chuck, for that matter.”

Boomer’s jaw tightened. “When I let go of you, can you promise me you won’t run down there and get yourself shot?”

She bit her lip and stared into his eyes.

He squeezed her gently. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to save our daughter. Promise me you won’t run.”

Slowly, she nodded her head. “Please save my baby.”

“Our baby,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “I might not know how to take care of her like you and Chuck do, but I know I’ll love her as much as you do. If you’ll give me the chance to be with her and you.”

“Yes!” Daphne said, her voice shaking. “Just save her. Please.”

Boomer released Daphne, and with the rifle in his hands started across the ridge to where Hank stood. “We have to get in a position where we can see into the chalet. We need a headcount of the number of people holding them hostage.”

Daphne followed. “How will that help?”

Boomer came to a halt when he faced the chalet’s front porch and dropped to his belly in the snow. “We have to know how many people we’re dealing with in order to make our move and not get Chuck or Maya kil—harmed.”

Daphne stumbled, righted herself and dropped down beside Boomer.

Hank passed them, carrying another rifle with a scope. “I’ll go a little farther along the ridge and let you know what I see.”

Boomer nodded without saying a word. He concentrated all his focus on the door and windows to the chalet.

“What do you see?” Daphne asked.

“Not much. The shadow of the porch overhang keeps the doors and windows in the dark, and without the generator running, there are no lights on inside.”

Daphne grabbed his arm. “Is the door opening?”

Boomer grimaced. “Sweetheart, don’t touch, bump or nudge me while I have a rifle in my hands.”

“I’m sorry, but look.” She pointed. “Is that Chuck?”

Boomer had already ascertained the man who stepped out of the chalet was indeed Chuck. And he carried what appeared to be a bundle of baby blankets.

Daphne drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, my God. He has Maya, doesn’t he?”

What Boomer could see through his scope that Daphne could not from this distance was the handgun pressed to the back of Chuck’s head. If the gun went off and the bullet ricocheted inside the man’s skull, there was no telling where it would exit, and whether it would hit Maya on the other side.

Boomer’s palms sweated in the cold air.

“Daphne Miller!” a voice shouted from inside the chalet, the noise echoing off the hillsides. “If you want your daughter to live, come down now. You have exactly one minute before she dies.”