After about an hour, Dutch stopped to siphon the remaining gas out of Julia’s snowmobile. Speed no longer mattered. Now distance was the name of the game. They would go farther if they saved the gas and traveled on one snowmobile. He emptied the can of spare gasoline into his fuel tank as well and said a silent prayer that the machine would get them to the nearest human habitation.

He took his bearings and mentally pictured the satellite map he’d studied on his laptop the day before. As best he could tell, they’d fled mostly to the south. If he was correct, then a couple of little towns lay not far to the west of them now.

They climbed on the machine and set out. Julia’s body snuggled intimately against his back, sending his thoughts careening off in a dozen different directions. Concentrate, buddy. Bad guys were running around out here somewhere, hunting them like animals. He had to stay sharp.

But it was hard to do with her breasts pressing against his back and her arms wrapped around him like that.

After about half an hour, he paused just inside a line of trees, eyeing the road before him. Did he dare travel it in search of fuel and a phone? What were the odds that whoever had narrowly missed killing them earlier would be patrolling the local side roads? His basic survival training warned him that a road was far too open. Far too dangerous to risk.

But they couldn’t run around in the mountains indefinitely. Sooner or later, they would have to come out of hiding. If they did it now, they stood some chance of running into Ferrare’s goons. But if they waited, the bastards would have time to call in reinforcements. The longer he waited, the higher the odds were that they’d be caught. Even though it made him twitchy, he guided the snowmobile onto the snow-packed road.

The gas gauge on the machine was getting dangerously low when they finally rounded a curve and saw a building in front of them. Two gas pumps out front proclaimed it to be exactly what he was looking for. More relieved than he cared to admit, Dutch drove into the parking lot of what turned out to be an old-fashioned general store.

The proprietor pointed Dutch to a pay phone in the back corner by the rest rooms. While Julia slipped into the bathroom to run her hands under warm water and thaw out a bit, he dialed Blackjack headquarters. A command-post controller picked up the line.

“Dutch here. Is the old man available?”

“He said to patch you through to him no matter when you called. And boy, is he antsy to talk to you. Haven’t seen the colonel this worked up in a while. Where are you?”

Until the mole was caught, he wasn’t telling anybody but his boss anything. He laughed lightly into the controller’s ear. “Hell if I know.”

Dutch waited impatiently as his call was transferred to Colonel Foley’s cell phone. It was only a few seconds until his boss came on the line.

The colonel wasted no time on niceties. “Where in the hell have you been?” he growled.

“Would you mind throwing this on to your secure line, sir?”

The colonel complied in silence. A faint buzz came on the line, indicating that nobody else could listen in. The colonel announced grimly, “I’ll delete the recording of this call when we’re done so our mole can’t get at it. Now, what’s up, Dutch?”

“Eduardo Ferrare’s thugs blew up our Jeep with me in it a couple of hours ago. Fortunately, I had the door open and got blown clear of the fireball.”

The colonel uttered a sharp curse under his breath, a sure sign he was not a happy camper. “Did you see the perpetrators?” he asked tersely.

“Nope. But it had to be Ferrare’s people, unless the locals around here have started blowing up cars for fun.”

Foley retorted, “I need you to bring her in. Let’s get her into custody and talking so we can find out everything there is to know about Eduardo.”

Dutch sighed. “Don’t think I can do that, sir.”

The colonel’s voice went dead flat. “And why not?”

Dutch flinched at the ominous chill in his boss’s voice. He couldn’t blame the guy. In their line of work, a disobeyed order usually led to someone dying.

Dutch explained carefully, “Julia’s doing her best to help us already. But she’s refusing to testify until we get the sister away from her old man. And I can’t say as I blame her. In the meantime, Julia’s moved over seven hundred million dollars of her father’s money into our Swiss bank account.”

“Holy shit.”

Dutch continued, “She’s not willing to cooperate much more than that until Carina’s safe. Since we don’t know who’s working for Ferrare at the FBI or within our own organization, I think it would be safer for her to go to ground out here with me. Especially now that the bastard’s demonstrated a willingness to kill her.”

Foley sighed. “You’ve got no choice, man. She’s wanted by the FBI. You have to bring her in and take your chances that the one or two bad agents in the whole bureau won’t be the ones you hand her over to. The odds are stacked strongly in favor of her being fine.”

Dutch closed his eyes in frustration.

Foley continued, “Even if bringing her in is a risk, we have to take that chance. What she knows is too important.”

Dutch’s anger flared up. “Since when do we sacrifice innocents in the name of achieving military objectives?”

The colonel’s next words fell heavily against his ear. “She’s not an innocent, Dutch.”

And therein lay the rub. She wasn’t an innocent. She’d been in cahoots with her father, willingly or otherwise, for years. Even if her old man was holding her sister hostage to make her cooperate, Julia’s hands were far from clean.

The colonel spoke into the heavy silence. “Have you forgotten she’s the one who set us up and got Simon killed?”

It was a low blow, but he couldn’t blame Foley for taking it. “She wants to do the right thing.”

The colonel’s opinion of that was succinct. “Bullshit. Bring her in, Dutch. Now. That’s an order.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t think I can do that. I’m not willing to endanger her life like that.”

“Come on, Dutch. Don’t do this. We’re talking about your career, here. In six months, maybe a year, you could be in command of the team. Don’t throw away the last dozen years of distinguished service for a woman. We’re talking court-martials here. A dishonorable discharge. Hell, jail time. She’s not worth it.”

Dutch sighed. “That’s the problem. She is worth it.”

Foley let loose a rare string of curses having to do with conniving women turning gullible men’s heads. Finally he composed himself and said, “Look. I’ve got to make this official.”

Dutch heard the colonel say away from the receiver, “Annie, honey, I need you to pick up the other phone.”

The click of a receiver indicated she’d come on the line.

“Hi, Annie.”

“Hey, Dutch. How’s it going?”

He laughed with scant humor. “You’re about to find out it’s not going so great.”

Colonel Foley said formally, “Annie, as a duly appointed officer in the armed forces, I’d need you to witness the order I’m about to give.”

“Ahh. Okay,” she said soberly.

Foley continued, “Dutch, I am ordering you, under my full authority granted by the Uniform Code of Military Justice, to bring in Julia Ferrare and turn yourself in immediately. Do you understand my order?”

Dutch answered heavily. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you for any reason believe this to be an unlawful order?”

“No, sir.”

“And do you understand the potential consequences of refusing to follow this order?”

“Yes, sir.”

A pause. The colonel said grimly, “Don’t do this, Dutch.”

He replied equally grimly. “I have no choice. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Me, too. And Dutch?”

“Yeah?”

“You be careful. Don’t take on Eduardo Ferrare or his hit squad by yourself.”

“I’ve got no choice on that one, either.”

“Stay in touch. Your leave expires in a couple of days. I don’t want to have add going AWOL to the list of charges you’re going to face.”

Dutch hung up the phone slowly. Stared at it for a long minute. Bloody hell. He’d just flushed his entire goddamned career down the toilet.

Julia peeked out of the bathroom cautiously a few moments later. Dutch’s murmured voice had gone silent with the click of the phone receiver into its cradle. All clear. Thank goodness. She also needed to make a phone call. A private one. And her cell-phone battery was getting low. The little hallway that led from the main store to the bathrooms was empty. Dutch had disappeared. She sidled up to the pay phone and quickly dialed a familiar phone number. A woman answered in Spanish.

Julia replied in the same language. “Inez, it’s Julia. Is my father home?”

The maid answered in fearful surprise. “No, Miss Julia, he isn’t. But he left orders to forward your call to him if you contacted him.”

“Tell his assistant to transfer me, will you?”

It was a measure of just how ticked off her father was that he came on the line almost instantly. “So, my wayward daughter decides to grace me with her attention, does she?” he purred menacingly in her ear.

Julia quailed at the sound. If she’d been standing in front of him in person, she would have been in mortal fear for her life. It was the same tone he used to order peoples’ deaths. “We need to talk,” she managed to force past her constricted throat.

“We are talking,” he snapped.

“If you kill me, it could take you months or years to find your money, and even then you could have a very difficult time getting any of it back. I can hand it all back to you in a matter of minutes.”

“Indeed,” he said silkily. “So where exactly is my money?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about. I’ve got something you want, and you’ve got something I want.”

“Not over the phone,” he snarled.

She winced. She’d been afraid he might say that. The man had been bugged, tailed and wiretapped so many times over the years that he never, ever, did serious business except in person.

“All right. We’ll meet,” she agreed reluctantly.

“Where? And when?” he demanded.

My, my. Daddy dearest sounded plenty eager to get his hands on all his millions. Maybe this plan might work after all. She thought fast. “Montana. I’ll call you tomorrow with an exact location and time.”

“Call my cell phone,” he ordered tersely.

“All right,” she mumbled. “I’ll be in touch.”

“You do that, baby girl. Oh, and your sister sends her greetings.”

Julia gnashed her teeth at the reminder that he had Carina and wouldn’t hesitate to hurt or kill her. She hung up the phone and glared at it. Baby girl, indeed. Once, just once, she would like to best him. Make him really squirm. Now, if she could only embrace her anger long enough to hold at bay the panic careening through her gut at the thought of facing her father, maybe she wouldn’t faint.

She turned and rushed from the phone, eager to get away from an instrument dirtied by the projection of her father’s voice.

---

As her footsteps faded away, Dutch slipped out of the men’s room. He stared bleakly at the phone. Son of a bitch. She was going to sell him out to her father to save her hide. Again.

Wasn’t this day just getting better and better? First the car, then his career, and now his woman. What else could blow up in his face?

Grimly, he questioned the store owner and found out a man in town ran a taxi service out of his home. Dutch gave the guy a call and arranged for a pickup from the store and delivery to the nearest rental-car agency.

It was after midnight when Dutch closed Julia’s car door and went around to jackknife himself into the midsize rental sedan. Not too many cars were built with men his size in mind. The steering wheel banged his knees, and he crouched in the seat, packed in like a sardine. Doggedly, he guided the vehicle to the nearest major highway and pointed it toward northern Montana. Far be it from him to cause Julia to miss her meeting with her father.

Damn her! What was she thinking? She knew her sister’s life hung in the balance. Why would she mess around with trying to make deals with her father? Surely, Julia knew better than to trust the bastard a single inch.

Dutch eased off the accelerator. It wasn’t fear making his foot heavy. Rather it was fury. Frankly, he didn’t give a damn if anyone was following them tonight. He drove directly toward his parents’ cabin high in the mountains of northwestern Montana.

Nonetheless, an ominous itch at the back of his neck warned him to get under cover soon. It was the kind of intuition he’d learned over the years not to ignore. Eduardo Ferrare was coming. He could feel it in the air.

 

An unmarked Learjet taxied to a hangar at a small, private airport just south of the Glacier Falls National Park in western Montana. The four men inside the plane got out quickly and loaded oversized bags of gear into the trunk of the two cars waiting for them in the dark.

Tom Foley ordered tersely, “Doc, you’re with me. Tex, Howdy, you take the other car. We’re all clear on how to get to the Dutcher place?”

His men nodded grimly. None of them were happy about the idea of running an op against one of their own. But Dutch had turned.

Of all people! Tom shook his head. He still couldn’t believe it. Levelheaded, rock-solid Dutch was the last man he would ever peg to fall for a woman. Especially not for the conniving, dangerous kind of female who could get him killed.

Tom climbed behind the wheel of the car and headed up into the mountains. He half hoped he was wrong about where Dutch had gone to ground. But he doubted it. He would do the same thing in the same situation. Dutch was heading for his home turf to circle the wagons and make a last stand.

They pulled into the driveway of a neat, rustic ranch house a couple of hours later. Jens Dutcher turned out to be a giant bear of a man, easily as tall and broad as his athletic son. And as unrevealing of his thoughts and emotions, too. Usually, when Tom met the families of his men, there was at least a flicker of response at meeting the commander of the legendary Blackjacks.

But all Jens Dutcher did was ask cautiously, “So, Colonel, what brings you way out here to our place? Everything all right with my boy?”

Tom answered hastily. “Dutch is fine. This visit is nothing like that.” He continued carefully. He sensed it would not be wise to tick off Papa Bear. “But speaking of your son, has he contacted you in the last twenty-four hours?”

Jens replied noncommittally, “Why do you ask?”

As cagey as the younger Dutcher. “We have reason to believe a criminal by the name of Eduardo Ferrare is chasing him, and we’re here to help Dutch.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. They were here to help. To save Dutch from himself and the fucking black widow who’d gotten her fangs into him.

Jens rocked back on his heels and stuck his huge hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Seems to me my boy would ask for help if he thought he needed it.”

Tom nodded with a calm he didn’t feel. “We received some information today that indicates Ferrare is closer to Dutch and more dangerous than your son is aware of. Since he’s not in constant contact with us, we haven’t been able to get word to him yet.”

Jens leveled a measuring look at him. Damn, this guy would make a great card shark with that expressionless poker face of his.

Tom added with quiet authority, “I launched every available member of the squad to Montana on less than one hour’s notice because I think Eduardo Ferrare poses a serious threat to Dutch’s life.” He added lightly, “Hell, I’m not even supposed to be out in the field with my bum leg. But I felt the threat was grave enough to get up from behind my desk and come myself.”

Dutcher nodded. “My son thinks very highly of you, Colonel.”

“Do you know where he is?”

Jens shrugged. “If he’s in this area and he feels threatened, I would expect he’d go to my hunting cabin. He knows every rock and tree on that whole mountain.”

 

Julia followed Dutch inside the tidy chalet-style cabin, not so unlike the last one they’d stayed in. It had the same rustic charm, albeit with a few more amenities, like electricity and running water. And a phone. The way her cell phone was acting up in these mountains, she would need the landline to set up the meeting with her father. Her insides quivered in terror at the prospect of seeing him again.

But she couldn’t go on living like this. Running from place to place, desperately trying to stay one step ahead of thugs intent upon killing her. She couldn’t ask it of Dutch, and she couldn’t do it by herself. It was time to end this.

Dutch’s voice interrupted her turbulent thoughts. “You can have the upstairs loft. I’ll take the downstairs bedroom. It’s safer that way.”

Yeah, and he didn’t have to confront his conflicted feelings for her that way. A neat dodge for Mr. Never-Deal-With-His-Emotions. She climbed the steps to the chalet’s loft, and stopped in astonishment. The space was filled with memorabilia from Dutch’s youth. Trophies, newspaper clippings, photos, and a leather letterman jacket hung on a hook.

He called up to her about doing a perimeter check, and then the back door closed behind him. She took the opportunity to have a peek at the boy behind the man.

The outstanding athletic and academic achievements were pretty much as she’d expected. But one thing did strike her as odd. He laughed and smiled in almost all of the pictures lining the walls. And another young man showed up over and over again beside Dutch, often with Dutch’s arm thrown over his shoulders in brotherly affection. It had to be Simon. Such a handsome young man. A lot like his older brother.

She swallowed back the tears that threatened. She was doing the right thing. She owed Dutch a debt she could never repay. The best option now was to sacrifice herself to save Carina and Dutch. It was the only course of action that could even begin to make up for what she’d already taken from him. She sighed and began the long wait until nightfall and her reckoning with destiny.

 

“Señor Ferrare, the helicopter and pilot you requested are standing by.”

Eduardo turned to his flunky and growled, “Any sign of them yet?”

“No, sir. The soldier and your daughter disappeared after they took off on the snowmobiles.”

“Keep looking. They can’t have gone far without getting some help. Somebody out there knows where they are.”

Dammit. This American soldier Julia had hooked up with was one of the slipperiest bastards he’d ever come up against. Lord knew his daughter wasn’t smart enough to evade his grasp like this, over and over.

He would crush them both like bugs when he got hold of them. Soon. Very soon. He would stick them on pins and pull their wings and legs off, one by one, until he tired of listening to their agony. And then he would kill them both. Personally.

 

When Dutch was sure that Julia was ensconced in his bedroom, no doubt playing Peeping Tom with his past, he slipped outside. He tromped over to the detached garage that also acted as a tool shed and rummaged around in his dad’s toolbox.

After checking to make sure Julia wasn’t watching him out the upstairs window, he eased over to the side of the house and opened a gray utility box mounted on the wall. He cut a pair of wires, and quickly spliced in secondary wires that led to a walkie-talkie he’d found in the garage that would act as a receiver.

It wasn’t the prettiest phone tap he’d ever done, but he also didn’t have his usual gear to accomplish such a task. Besides, it didn’t have to be a sneaky job. It wasn’t as if Julia was going to come outside to check the lines in twenty-below-zero weather, assuming she even knew what to look for. He stowed the walkie-talkie inside the junction box for use later tonight and tucked the batteries inside his coat. When Julia called her old man to set up the rendezvous, he would be able to listen in and hear what she had in store.

He made his way back inside, his heart heavy. God, he hated spying on her. But what choice did he have? She’d betrayed him once. And she sure as hell acted as if she was in the middle of doing it again.

As he knocked the snow off his boots, a little voice in his head told him that she didn’t know him as well ten years ago, so her betrayal hadn’t been an attack on him personally. She had done what she had to in order to stay alive and protect her sister. Honestly, if he and Simon had been in that situation, he would probably have done the same thing to keep his kid brother alive and well.

But that didn’t make it right, his logical brain argued.

Yeah, but it did make her actions understandable. And maybe even a little forgivable.

Never, his hard, military side declared.

But what would it cost him if he couldn’t forgive her for doing what she was blackmailed into all those years ago? She’d been barely more than a girl, for crying out loud.

Frustrated, he stepped into the chalet’s cozy warmth. He’d better catch a nap if he could. He had a nasty feeling that tonight was going to turn into a fiasco of the first water.

 

Tex reported through Tom’s earpiece. “He’s gone inside, sir.”

“Did you see what he was doing around the side of the house?” Tom asked.

“Yeah. Looked like he was setting up a wiretap.”

“On his own telephone?”

“Yes, sir.”

Foley frowned. What the… “Can you get over to the phone line and set up a second tap? If he thinks something’s going to come across that line that’s important enough for him to hear, then I want to hear it, too.”

“Will do,” was Tex’s short reply.

“Make it neat,” Tom ordered. “We don’t want to tip him off in any way.”

“You got it, boss.”

 

Julia picked at the leftovers of the hearty stew Dutch had cooked for supper. It was delicious, but she had no appetite whatsoever. How did condemned prisoners manage to eat their last meals only hours before they died? She was too busy fighting the urge to throw up.

“You feeling all right?” Dutch asked.

“Uh, yes. Fine,” she replied hastily. “I’m just getting tired of all this running around and hiding. I’m worried about your safety and Carina’s, and I want it all to be over.”

“It will be soon,” he said bluntly.

He sounded so confident when he said that. As if he knew something she didn’t. Suddenly suspicious, she asked, “You wouldn’t go and do something really dangerous to bring this thing to a head, would you?”

He looked at her blandly. “Now, why would you ask me something like that? Have I done anything stupid so far?”

“No,” she answered. “It’s just that— Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’m just being paranoid.”

He reached out with a big, warm hand and covered hers where it rested on the table. “You’re authorized to be tense. Just keep your wits about you and stick to me like glue, and you’ll be fine.”

But that was the problem. She had to face the dragon alone. And she was woefully unprepared to do battle with him. She had no doubt her father was going to chew her up and spit her out. And there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. She just had to close her eyes tight and fling herself upon her sword. She could do this. No problem. No problem at all.

Not.