Going to Extremes
Amanda Stevens
MAN OF ACTIONAidan Campbell instinctively flew into the fray when the authorities rallied the troops to catch a gang of escaped convicts. Yet, as the adventurous bounty hunter scoured the storm-swept terrain with his teammates, he unexpectedly found himself rescuing a blond beauty dangling precariously from a cliff. His protective nature kicked into high gear when Kaitlyn Wilson's fragmented memories recalled a grisly crime carried out by the very militia members he hunted. After Aidan spirited the fiercely independent investigative reporter away to a safe house, it seemed pointless to battle their potent attraction in the passionate afterglow. But when Kaitlyn's nose for the news lured her to trouble, could a heroic, high-speed helicopter chase prevent a full-scale catastrophe?
He had the look of a man who could turn a woman inside out, and Kaitlyn’s stomach fluttered with awareness when their gazes met
A dozen images flitted through her head. His blue eyes staring intently into hers. His deep voice commanding her not to panic as she clung to the edge of the cliff. His calloused hands moving skillfully over her bare skin to warm her up.
“Kaitlyn…are you up to answering a few questions?”
The sound of her name on his lips sent another shiver up her spine. “You sound like a cop.”
He shrugged. “I’m just curious as to what you were doing out in the middle of nowhere alone in a rainstorm.”
“I can’t remember what happened after the storm hit,” Kaitlyn muttered. “I only have a vague recollection of the rescue. If you hadn’t come along when you did…”
“Actually, we were already out there searching for fugitives when we got the call that a woman was missing…”
Kaitlyn frowned. “But…you said you’re not a cop.”
“I’m not.” His gaze met hers. “I’m a bounty hunter.”
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
Summer’s winding down, but Harlequin Intrigue is as hot as ever with six spine-tingling reads for you this month!
* Our new BIG SKY BOUNTY HUNTERS promotion debuts with Amanda Stevens’s Going to Extremes. In the coming months, look for more titles from Jessica Andersen, Cassie Miles and Julie Miller.
* We have some great miniseries for you. Rita Herron is back with Mysterious Circumstances, the latest in her NIGHTHAWK ISLAND series. Mallory Kane’s Seeking Asylum is the third book in her ULTIMATE AGENTS series. And Sylvie Kurtz has another tale in THE SEEKERS series—Eye of a Hunter.
* No month would be complete without a chilling gothic romance. This month’s ECLIPSE title is Debra Webb’s Urban Sensation.
* Jan Hambright, a fabulous new author, makes her debut with Relentless. Sparks fly when a feisty repo agent repossesses a BMW with an ex-homicide detective in the trunk!
Don’t miss a single book this month and every month!
Sincerely,
Denise O’Sullivan
Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue
Going to Extremes
Amanda Stevens
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amanda Stevens is the bestselling author of over thirty novels of romantic suspense. In addition to being a Romance Writers of America RITA
Award finalist, she is also the recipient of awards in Career Achievement in Romantic/Mystery and Career Achievement in Romantic/Suspense from Romantic Times magazine. She currently resides in Texas. To find out more about past, present and future projects, please visit her Web site at www.amandastevens.com.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Kaitlyn Wilson—An ambitious reporter who unwittingly stumbles upon the story of a lifetime.
Aidan Campbell—An adrenaline junkie with a savior complex.
Colonel Cameron Murphy—He intends to get Boone Fowler by using any means necessary.
Boone Fowler—An escaped convict who has a new boss…and a new agenda.
Dr. Phillip Becker—His bedside manner could use some work.
Eden McClain—Kaitlyn’s childhood friend has important connections and her own ambitions.
Allen Cudlow—A rival reporter with a chip on his shoulder.
Governor Peter Gilbert—A charming man with big plans for his political future.
Prince Nicholai Petrov—Rebuking his father on a world stage has turned him into a rock star.
Big Sky Bounty Hunters—Their search for the fugitives leads them back into the world of international intrigue.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Prologue
It was done.
He’d killed the woman and buried her body in a shallow grave in the Montana wilderness. The wolverines would be at her soon enough, and then the vultures. By the time her body was discovered by some errant backpacker or trapper, her face would be gone, and if luck held, her fingerprints.
A DNA analysis would be required for a positive identification, and that could take days…sometimes weeks in this part of the world. Even if the authorities were able to trace her to the Montana Militia for a Free America, it would be too late. She could not tell them anything now.
Jenny Peltier had paid the ultimate price for her betrayal, and as Boone Fowler followed the stream through the woods back to his encampment, he felt no elation or remorse at what he’d done. He didn’t particularly enjoy killing, although he was good at it.
In war, people died. It was as simple as that.
And they were at war. A war to take back the country from the corrupt bureaucrats who contaminated the American way of life as surely as the pathetic junkies who infested the American street.
They would all be dealt with in time, those soft, greedy ingrates who knew not the meaning of honor and sacrifice. They would have to learn the hard way.
The bombing of a government building by the MMFAFA had shocked the nation, but that would be only one of the many “shots” that would soon be heard around the world.
The day of deliverance had dawned over Montana, and the winds of liberty would sweep down in triumph across the prairie states and march, like Sherman’s army, through the South, conquering nearly sixty years of malaise, apathy and moral decay. The avenging angel of freedom would stand victorious on the squalid doorsteps of the eastern cities and level, in God-like fury, the modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah to the West.
Fowler drew a deep, quivering breath. No matter how many times he delivered that sermon to the faithful, the message never failed to stir him. He had a gift and he knew how to use it. His mother used to say that when he spoke with such passion, he could make people follow him to the ends of the earth. He was counting on that.
Pausing, he knelt at the edge of the stream to wash the blade of the hunting knife he’d used to slit the woman’s throat, and then he scrubbed his hands, even though they were already clean. His soul was clean, too. Virtuous.
He was so caught up in the righteousness of his mission that he almost missed the telltale rustle of dead leaves upstream and to his right. The sound was slight, a mere whisper in the wind, but it sent a chill up his spine just the same.
And then Fowler realized that he’d been vaguely uneasy for the last quarter of a mile or so. Even though his mind was preoccupied, his instincts had been warning him of danger.
He should have listened. Whoever was behind him had managed to get the jump on him, so that meant that the tracker was good. A professional. Someone who knew the Montana wilderness as well as Fowler.
He continued to rinse the knife as his senses came fully alert and his mind raced with possibilities. He had a semiautomatic tucked in his belt, but he’d have to wait for the right moment to draw it. A sudden move and the tracker might open fire on him.
From the corner of his eye, he scouted the terrain. When the sound came again, still to his right, Fowler pulled his gun and began firing in that direction as he simultaneously rolled to his left. Seeking cover behind a boulder, he unloaded his weapon without pause and then grabbed a fresh cartridge.
“Drop the weapon!”
Fowler froze. The voice hadn’t come from his right at all. Instead, the tracker was downstream and to his left. He’d circled his quarry and now he had Fowler trapped. The rustle of leaves had been a diversion. Pebbles tossed over his head perhaps. A trick as old as time itself, and Fowler had fallen for it.
It wasn’t like him to be so careless. While his guard had been down, the man who hunted him had moved in surprisingly close. So close Fowler could practically feel the bastard breathing down his neck.
“Drop the weapon or I’ll put a bullet through your brain.” The voice was deep, fearless, commanding. A man used to barking orders and having them obeyed.
To prove his point, he fired off a round, blasting to kingdom come a pinecone that had fallen not ten feet from where Fowler hunkered.
Fowler threw down his weapon.
The man came out of the woods then, a tall, powerfully built warrior with the darkest gaze Fowler had ever looked into. He’d killed before. It was there in his eyes. In the steadiness of his hand on his weapon. He’d kill again, too, if he had to. Without hesitation.
He was a military man. His bearing gave him away, and his tracking skills suggested someone with a Special Forces background.
“Who are you?” Fowler asked. “What do you want?”
“I want justice, you son of a bitch.” As he walked toward Fowler, rage contorted the man’s features, and in the split second it took for him to get his emotions under control, Fowler whipped the pistol out of his ankle holster and fired.
The punch of the bullet knocked the man backward, and he fell with a hard thud to the ground.
A clean shot, right through the heart.
His muscles began to twitch, and Fowler walked over to put another bullet in his head to finish him off. Kicking the man’s weapon aside, he lifted his own gun and took aim.
“For the Cause!” he cried in triumph.
Montana State Penitentiary
Monday, 0400 hours
BOONE FOWLER CAME AWAKE slowly. For a moment, he thought he was back in the Montana wilderness, facing off against an old nemesis, but as his mind began to clear, he realized that it had been nothing more than a dream. A recurring nightmare of being hunted. The scenery and the enemy sometimes changed, but the outcome was always the same. It was he who stood victorious under a clear Montana sky—not the hunter.
In reality, it hadn’t gone down that way, and now Fowler found himself confined to a six-by-eight prison cell. As he swung his legs over the cot and sat, head in hands, everything came rushing back to him. His capture. The trial. The past five years of his life spent in a hellhole called the Fortress. A maximum-security prison from which no one had ever escaped.
And all because of a man named Cameron Murphy.
While Fowler had rotted in prison for the past half decade, Murphy had recruited what was left of a Special Forces team he’d once commanded and turned them into the most successful bounty-hunter organization in the country. Although Murphy was the only one Fowler had met face-to-face, he’d made a point of finding out the other men’s names. He knew their backgrounds, their specialties, what made them tick.
But it was Murphy alone that Fowler still saw in his nightmares at night. Murphy’s face he saw when he’d beat another inmate almost beyond recognition.
His hatred of Cameron Murphy had helped him survive nearly nine months of solitary confinement in the Dungeon, and his thirst for revenge had kept his rage in check when he’d been placed back into the general population of the prison.
He’d kept his nose clean all these years because he had a plan, and for that, he needed his friends, contacts with the outside world. He needed money for bribes and favors he could call in. He needed all the help he could muster in order to accomplish what had never been done before: escape from the Fortress.
And thanks to a generous benefactor with an ambitious agenda, the moment was finally at hand. Tonight, at lights out, he would instigate a riot, the likes of which the prison guards had never before seen. During the pandemonium, Fowler and his compatriots would be led off to the Dungeon, where they would lay low until the plan could be set in motion.
If all went well, they would soon be free men.
And Cameron Murphy would soon be a dead one.
God help anyone who got in the way.
“For the Cause!” Fowler whispered as adrenaline surged through his veins.
Chapter One
Tuesday, 1400 hours
“Ken, you’re breaking up! I can barely hear you!” Pressing the cell phone to her ear, Kaitlyn Wilson tried not to panic. Rain beat like a war drum on the roof of her SUV as she slowly made her way west on Route 9. She’d turned the windshield wipers on high speed, but she still couldn’t see a damn thing. “Are you still there?” she asked desperately.
“Major flooding…highway closed…”
Static crackled in Kaitlyn’s ear. “Should I turn back? Dammit!” The phone went dead and she swore again as she frantically tried to call her boss back. But it was no use. She’d lost the signal.
Okay, situation not good, she summarized as she tossed the cell phone onto the seat and clutched the steering wheel with both hands.
Since she’d set out for the prison less than an hour earlier, Route 9 had been transformed into a lake. Kaitlyn could no longer even see the pavement. It was only by instinct and sheer dumb luck that she hadn’t yet driven off the road.
She could feel the swirling water sucking at the tires as she slowed the vehicle to a crawl, trying to decide what to do. Keep going…or turn back?
Did she really have a choice?
With near-zero visibility, turning the vehicle around without sliding into a ditch would be no easy feat, and besides, she had no way of judging whether the road conditions behind her were any better.
She was in the notorious dead zone on Route 9 where cell-phone signals from the nearest tower were blocked by the mountains. And now static had overpowered the radio so that she couldn’t even pick up a weather forecast. She was, in effect, cut off from the rest of the world.
And the water continued to rise.
Why, oh why, hadn’t she listened to Ken when he’d cautioned her not to start off alone in the downpour?
“Are you crazy?” he’d shouted. “In case you haven’t been paying attention, the entire county is under a flash-flood warning.”
“I’ll be traveling on high ground for most of the way, and Route 9 never floods.” And by now Kaitlyn knew her way to the prison with her eyes closed. “If I leave now, I can get to the press conference before the heavy stuff hits.”
“Oh, you think? And just what would you call that? A drizzle?” Ken had cast a wary glance out his office window, where rain continued to fall steadily from a bleak, gray sky. It had been coming down nonstop all day.
Kaitlyn had breezily waved off his concern. “You worry too much. Besides, if I don’t get to the press conference, we’ll be scooped by the Independent Record, and you know you don’t want that,” she said, naming a rival paper.
Ken scowled. “I also don’t want the Highway Patrol having to fish you out of a ditch somewhere.”
At least he was gracious enough not to point out that it wouldn’t be the first time. “I know what I’m doing, Ken.”
His patience finally worn down, he sighed. “Okay, at least take someone with you. Let me get Cudlow on the horn—” He had reached for the phone, but Kaitlyn’s outraged screech stopped him.
“Cudlow?” She spoke the name with such utter disdain that Ken gave her a disapproving look. Kaitlyn didn’t care. There was no way she’d allow Allen Cudlow—the man who had almost single-handedly derailed her career at the paper five years ago—to accompany her to the warden’s press conference. No way in hell.
Her feud with Cudlow had started long before Ken Mellon had been brought in when the previous editor in chief had finally retired nine months ago. Kaitlyn had been ecstatic at the prospect of new blood at the Ponderosa Monitor because she and Cudlow, who was once the golden boy at the Monitor, were finally on equal footing.
“If you truly want to avert a tragedy, you’ll put down that phone,” she’d warned Ken.
He’d run his fingers through his thinning hair. “Okay, okay. I get it. You and Cudlow hate each other’s guts. I don’t know why and I don’t much care as long as it doesn’t interfere with your reporting. A little professional rivalry can be a good thing. Up to a point.” He gave her a warning glare over the top of his bifocals. “But don’t carry it too far.”
She shrugged. “Just keep him out of my way and everything’s cool.”
“And anyway,” Ken continued as if she’d never spoken, “I really can’t spare Cudlow this afternoon. If you insist on attending Warden Green’s press conference, I’ll have to send him to the state capital to cover Petrov’s arrival tonight.”
Kaitlyn’s mouth dropped. “You can’t do that! I’ve been working on the Petrov piece for weeks!”
“Both stories are breaking and you can’t be in two places at once.”
Kaitlyn hated it when he got all sensible. It usually meant that she was being unreasonable.
“So what’s it to be, Kaitlyn? Petrov…or the prison break?”
Decisions, decisions.
Kaitlyn bit her lip as she quickly weighed the possibilities. “Okay, look. If you have to send Cudlow to the airport to cover Petrov’s arrival…that’s one thing. But don’t give him the story. I’m this close to getting an exclusive.”
Ken’s gaze narrowed. “How close?”
Kaitlyn hesitated. “I’ve almost got it wrapped up.”
Not quite the truth, but thanks to some behind-the-scenes maneuvering by an old friend, Kaitlyn was inching closer to the “get” of a lifetime.
She might be a no-name reporter for a small-time newspaper in Podunk, Montana, but she had what even the network superstars didn’t have…an inside track with Nikolai Petrov.
Prince Nikolai Petrov to be exact.
The very sound of his name reminded Kaitlyn just how swoon-worthy the guy was. His good looks alone had melted feminine hearts all over the world, but since his impassioned speech before the United Nations, he’d reached near-rock-star status.
In a dazzling display of charm, integrity and sheer chutzpah, the crown prince of Lukinburg had implored the world community to step in and remove his own father from power for the sake of his impoverished and war-torn country. Then he’d embarked on a whirlwind tour across the country in an effort to win the hearts and minds of the American people in the event a U.N.-sanctioned, U.S.-led military invasion became necessary to overthrow King Aleksandr.
Each time the prince gave one of his heavily publicized speeches, his father would issue a stinging rebuttal from the safety of his palace in Lukinburg. The bitter family feud was being played out on the world stage, and the stakes couldn’t have been higher.
Working his way west, Petrov was due to arrive in Montana later that night as the VIP guest of Governor Peter Gilbert, and as luck would have it, Eden McClain, one of Kaitlyn’s oldest and closest friends, just happened to be the governor’s personal assistant.
Eden had been an invaluable source since Gilbert’s reelection campaign had entered its final weeks, providing Kaitlyn access to the governor’s inner circle that even reporters from some of the more prestigious papers in the state were denied.
In return, Kaitlyn tried not to cross boundaries that would strain her and Eden’s friendship, but with a Petrov exclusive on the line, she hadn’t been able to resist pressuring her friend to use her connections.
Kaitlyn gritted her teeth as she gripped the steering wheel. While she was stuck on Route 9, Allen Cudlow was probably slithering his way to Helena to cover Petrov’s arrival at that very moment. And, knowing Cudlow, he would somehow finagle his own interview with Petrov if for no other reason than to spite Kaitlyn.
She would never hear the end of it, either. Cudlow would never let her live down the fact that she’d passed up an exclusive with Prince Petrov in order to cover a prison break from the state penitentiary located a few miles west of Ponderosa.
But this was no ordinary prison break. Not only had the convicts pulled off the impossible—escaping from the Fortress—but they were led by Boone Fowler, the notorious militia member who had masterminded the bombing of a federal building five years ago.
So Kaitlyn had had to make a hard choice…a dangerous terrorist or a real-life Prince Charming.
Some choice.
What were the chances of two such major stories colliding in Montana, of all places? Granted, the state capital routinely had its share of political squabbles and backroom deals, but Ponderosa—Kaitlyn’s home base and the town closest to the prison—was normally a snooze fest.
Not so these days with Boone Fowler on the loose.
Ruthless and demented, the man would destroy his own mother if he deemed the sacrifice necessary to advance his glorious “Cause.” He had a lot of blood on his hands, including that of Jenny Peltier, who, along with Eden McClain, had been Kaitlyn’s best friend all through school.
Not that Kaitlyn’s hands were exactly clean in Jenny’s death, either, she thought bitterly. She’d used Jenny to further her own agenda just as surely as Boone Fowler had.
Sweet, impressionable Jenny.
She’d come to Kaitlyn for help, and what had Kaitlyn done? Kind and loving friend that she’d been, she’d sent Jenny back into the lion’s den. Without regard for her safety. Without regard for anything except getting a story that would make her Pulitzer prize winning father sit up and take notice.
Yes, she had actually been that selfish and that blindly ambitious, so much so that she’d been willing to betray a friend without a second thought.
Kaitlyn wanted to believe that she was a changed person, but she was very much afraid there was a special place in hell reserved for friends like her.
Maybe she would see Boone Fowler there…if not before.
A shiver tingled down her backbone at the prospect of meeting such a monster face-to-face. It was one thing to write about Fowler’s criminal exploits from the safety of her cubicle at the paper; quite another to actually confront him. And yet that was what she had sent Jenny to do.
Kaitlyn tried to will away the guilt that still ate at her after all these years. If she’d learned anything from her mistakes, though, it was that dwelling on the what-ifs and the what-might-have-beens did little good. She needed to concentrate on what she could do to send Fowler back to prison.
Covering the warden’s press conference was a start, but unfortunately, the weather refused to cooperate and the situation was becoming extremely dire.
Kaitlyn tensed as water sloshed over the hood of her vehicle, threatening to stall out the engine. She couldn’t keep going. The road was virtually impassable.
In her tenure as a reporter, she’d covered the aftermath of flash flooding, but she’d never actually been caught in one herself. Now she knew firsthand just how terrifying it could be.
After squelching her initial panic, she quickly came to the conclusion that her only recourse was to abandon the vehicle and head for high ground.
Stuffing her cell phone and a flashlight into the zippered pocket of her waterproof parka, she opened the door and climbed out.
The floodwaters were already knee-deep and so cold she could hardly catch her breath. She clung to the door for a moment, trying to get her footing as the flowing water threatened to sweep her off balance.
Bracing as best she could, she waded toward the embankment at the shoulder of the road and, using roots, her fingernails, and sheer determination, she climbed her way to safety, then turned to survey her surroundings.
The vista was breathtaking. The highway was almost completely flooded, and the water continued to rise. Her SUV was slowly being swallowed, and as rain beat down on Kaitlyn’s face, she tried to figure out what to do. She could make her way along the top of the embankment, staying in sight of the highway, and hope that someone came along. But if the road had been closed, that possibility wasn’t too likely.
Her best option was to keep climbing, Kaitlyn decided. At some point, she was bound to get a cell phone signal, and then she could call for help. And if she kept walking, she would eventually reach Eagle Falls, a small logging community seven miles north of the highway.
Striking out alone through the wilderness with dangerous convicts on the loose normally wouldn’t have been her first choice, but the prisoners had been on the run for nearly twenty-four hours. It was doubtful they were even still in the area, and besides, Kaitlyn wasn’t so sure she’d be any safer sitting on the side of a deserted road. She had no idea how long it would take for the water to go down, and even then, her vehicle would be inoperable. No one would miss her until morning so it was likely she would be sitting there all night. If she wanted to reach Eagle Falls before dark, she’d have to leave now.
Taking one last glance at her submerged vehicle, she squared her shoulders and began to climb.
TWILIGHT FELL early across the mountain, but Kaitlyn resisted the temptation to use her flashlight as she trudged along an old hunting path. She needed to conserve the batteries because, if she didn’t reach Eagle Falls soon, her flashlight could very well be the only thing standing between her and the coyotes and mountain lions that prowled the area. Not to mention the grizzlies.
Lions, coyotes, and bears, oh, my, she thought with a nervous laugh. She’d definitely been out in the elements too long.
Ever since she’d left the highway, she hadn’t seen one single sign of human life. Even the animals had taken to high ground, and it was as if she was alone in a watery universe. Kaitlyn had never realized how profound complete silence could be, nor had she grasped the vastness of the Montana wilderness. She now had a new appreciation for the frontier men and women who had been able to navigate their way through the mountainous terrain with nothing more than their own keen sense of survival.
Even though she had yet to reach the top of the summit, the ground had leveled off a bit. The going was easier now, but Kaitlyn’s spirits had plummeted. She was wet, exhausted and freezing. All she could think about was a hot bath and a warm bed, preferably in that order.
She’d been hiking for the better part of two hours when she finally saw a glimmer of light through the trees.
Civilization! At last!
Kaitlyn’s heart leaped in anticipation.
She stumbled over a tree branch in her excitement and forced herself to slow down. A twisted ankle—or worse, a broken leg—was the last thing she needed.
As she emerged from a thicket of ponderosa pines into a small clearing, she realized the light came from what appeared to be an old hunting lodge.
She scanned the area immediately surrounding the rustic building. There were no utility poles or wires that she could see, and she couldn’t hear a generator. Someone had probably lit a lantern. Another stranded motorist perhaps who’d arrived at the lodge before her.
Kaitlyn doubted the cabin was equipped with a phone line, either, but whoever was inside might have a working cell phone or even a short-wave radio. At the very least, they might be able to offer her a warm, safe place to spend the night.
Her first instinct was to rush up the rickety steps and pound on the door as hard as she could until someone answered. But her impulses had already gotten her into trouble once that day. She was alone, unarmed, and too exhausted to put up much of a fight should she need to. Her best bet was to approach the cabin with extreme caution. Do a bit of reconnoitering before she made her presence known.
Slipping across the wet ground, she flattened herself against the log wall and eased toward the window. She could hear voices inside. Loud, angry voices that sent a chill up her spine.
Taking care not to be seen, she inched toward the window and peered in, then jumped back, her heart flailing at what she’d seen.
A half-dozen or so men milled about inside the cabin. They were dressed in fatigues and were armed with what appeared to be automatic weapons, but Kaitlyn didn’t think they were soldiers. One of the men stood so near the window that she’d glimpsed a tattoo on the bicep of his left arm beneath his dark green T-shirt.
An upside-down burning American flag…the symbol used by the Montana Militia for a Free America.
She’d seen that same tattoo on Boone Fowler’s arm when he’d proudly displayed it at his trial.
And on Jenny Peltier’s arm when she’d come to Kaitlyn for help.
Kaitlyn had stared at the symbol in horror when Jenny had shoved up her sleeve. “Those people are murderers, Jenny. Terrorists! Why would you get involved with a group like that?”
“Because of Chase,” Jenny whispered. “I owed him that much.”
Jenny’s older brother had died in a war she and her family had always considered unjust and illegal. Her stepfather had railed against the government for years, and Chase’s death had only added fuel to the fire. Jenny had been so torn up with grief that her stepfather’s rants must have colored her perception of what had really happened. But Kaitlyn would never have guessed that she would have taken her hatred so far.
Squeezing her eyes closed, Kaitlyn willed away the memory. Boone Fowler had killed her best friend, but she couldn’t afford to lose control now. She had to get out of there before they saw her. She had to find a way to contact the authorities. Fowler and his cohorts were armed and dangerous. It wasn’t just her life on the line.
Clutching her cell phone, she prayed that she would be able to get a signal and summon help. But as she started to slip away from the cabin, a scream from inside drew her back to the window.
She tried not to make a sound, but what she saw sent a gasp to her throat. The man nearest the window had moved away so that she had a clear view of the interior. The convicts had taken a hostage. They’d stripped him and bound him to a wooden chair. He was bleeding profusely from his wounds and seemed barely conscious as his head lolled forward, chin on chest.
As Kaitlyn watched in horror, one of the MMFAFA members approached him. Grabbing the man’s hair, he pulled back his head, exposing his throat as he slipped a knife blade along the delicate skin, drawing even more blood.
The man groaned and began to babble. He spoke in what sounded to Kaitlyn like German. “Gotthilife mich. Gotthilfe uns alle, wenn Sie gelingen.” He muttered it over and over. Kaitlyn tried to translate, but her high school German was too long ago and she was so terrified she couldn’t think straight. But she could tell from his demeanor that he was begging for mercy.
His pleas fell on deaf ears. Someone shouted, “For the Cause!” and they all took up the chant as the knife whipped across the hostage’s throat.
The gush of crimson sent Kaitlyn into a momentary state of shock. She stood paralyzed at the window, hand clapped to her mouth to suppress her own scream. She couldn’t move. She hardly dared to breathe. If they saw her…
She must have made an involuntary sound, or perhaps some instinct told him she was there. Boone Fowler had been standing with his back to the window, and now he turned slowly, his gaze meeting Kaitlyn’s through the window.
Bloodlust glinted in his eyes.
Kaitlyn had never seen such a cold, demonic expression. His lips twisted cruelly as he acknowledged her presence and then he sprang like a panther across the room to the window.
At that moment, Kaitlyn knew she was a dead woman walking, but her instinct for survival was stronger that she’d ever imagined and, whirling, she sprinted for the woods.
She heard the glass shatter behind her as Fowler leaped through the window, and then the more immediate sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs underneath his feet as he pursued her.
Kaitlyn ran like the devil himself was behind her. She was young, fit, and had the advantage of fear-induced adrenaline spurring her through the wet twilight. For a moment, she thought she might actually have a chance of getting away, and then she came to a dead stop as she found herself teetering on the brink of a canyon.
She spun, her gaze darting about for another way out, but Fowler had already found her. He was perhaps twenty yards away and closing in on her as he took in her predicament. Then his steps slowed. No need to hurry. He had her cornered.
Kaitlyn’s heart pounded as she watched him. Would she be better off to fling herself from the cliff…or wait for Fowler to seal her fate?
“Who are you?” he asked in a voice that gave nothing away of his past. He might have been a fellow traveler that she’d stumbled upon in the woods. Not the remorseless killer who had the blood of two hundred innocents on his hands.
Kaitlyn didn’t answer him. Her breath was coming so hard and fast she couldn’t speak.
Fowler took a menacing step toward. “I asked you a question, girl. Who are you?”
“Kaitlyn Wilson.”
His gaze narrowed. “Do I know you?”
“I’m a reporter for the Ponderosa Monitor.”
“A reporter?” He took another step toward her. “Who told you where to find me? Answer me!”
Kaitlyn jumped at the rage in his voice. “No one. I didn’t come up here looking for you. I got stranded in a flash flood on Route 9. I kept walking until I could get a cell-phone signal.”
“Who knows you’re up here?”
No one, Kaitlyn thought in despair. Not a single soul. “The police. I called 9-1-1 for help. They’ll be here soon—”
“You’re lying. You can’t get a cell-phone signal up here for miles.” He started toward her again, and Kaitlyn backed away, gasping when she wobbled too close to the edge of the cliff.
Fowler laughed. “Careful. That’s a long fall.”
He was obviously enjoying himself, like a cat playing with a mouse. Even in the gathering darkness, Kaitlyn could see the gleam in his eyes. The feral grin that made her blood run cold. He was going to kill her as he’d killed Jenny. Maybe it was destiny catching up with her after all these years.
Maybe it was nothing more than her imagination, but Kaitlyn could have sworn she felt Jenny’s presence in the wind that swept through her hair. In the rain that fell like teardrops on her face.
Come on, Kaitlyn! You’ve always been able to think on your feet. You can talk your way out of this if you try.
Kaitlyn tried to beat back her panic as she moistened her lips. “I didn’t come up here to find you, but now that I have…I can help you. I can give you a public platform. Arrange for you to tell your side of things—”
Before Fowler could reply, a voice said from the darkness, “I’m afraid we can’t allow that.”
Kaitlyn couldn’t see the newcomer. He remained hidden in the woods behind Fowler, but there was something familiar about his voice. She’d heard it before.
If he knew her, maybe he’d help her somehow…
“Who are you?” she asked, sounding far more desperate and frightened than she would have liked.
“It doesn’t matter who I am. You’ve stumbled upon the story of a lifetime, it seems. I’m sorry you won’t live to tell it.”
Kaitlyn’s stomach churned at his words. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t even know who you are.”
“You’d put it together sooner or later. I truly am sorry, but in times like these, sacrifices have to be made. Our Cause is far too important to risk letting you go.”
Oh, God…
“Kill her and make it quick,” he said to Fowler. “Have your men dispose of both bodies and make sure they clean up inside.”
“Whatever you say. You’re calling the shots.” For now, Fowler’s tone implied. “For the Cause!” he shouted in triumph.
“For the Cause,” the disembodied voice agreed.
Fowler lifted his weapon, but in the split second before he pulled the trigger, the ground gave way beneath Kaitlyn’s feet. Loosened by all the rain, the edge of the canyon broke free and slid downward, carrying Kaitlyn with it.
She screamed as the bullet whizzed past her cheek, and then she plunged backward into nothing but darkness.
Chapter Two
Wednesday, 1600 hours
The storm had let up overnight and the early part of Wednesday morning, but as the afternoon slipped away, a new front moved in, bringing rain bands that slammed across the JetRanger’s path. Cruising at an altitude of three hundred feet beneath heavy cloud cover, the chopper rose and fell like a roller coaster as wind gusts of up to twenty-five knots batted it to and fro.
No problem, Aidan Campbell thought as he kept his eyes pealed out the window for the missing woman. The JetRanger III was a reliable machine, and the pilot, Jacob Powell, had nearly twenty years of experience under his belt. Plus, he was trained to fly in thirty-knot and above winds. Aidan had seen the guy navigate through near-hurricane conditions—and while they were taking heavy fire, to boot. Comparatively speaking, this search-and-rescue mission was a piece of cake.
The request for assistance by the county sheriff’s office had come into Big Sky Bounty Hunters headquarters at approximately 1300 hours, and Cameron Murphy had immediately notified his teams—already in the field searching for the escaped prisoners—to be on the lookout for a Ponderosa woman whose abandoned and submerged vehicle had been spotted on Route 9. Presumably, she’d taken to high ground during the storm, but the fact that she hadn’t been heard from in over twenty-four hours didn’t bode well for her safety.
Aidan and Powell had started their search in the area where her vehicle had been seen and then gradually widened the perimeter. It was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Their only hope was that the woman would somehow be able to signal them when—and if—she heard the engine.
To fight off the strong headwinds, Powell swerved the chopper’s nose and tail back and forth like a scampering sand crab. The maneuver helped, but the altimeter was still going crazy. Nausea tugged at Aidan’s stomach as he lifted the binoculars and scanned the scenery below them. They’d flown out of the heavy rain, but visibility was still poor and they were losing the light. He could make out little more than the treetops.
Flying at low altitudes in mountainous terrain was dangerous under the best of conditions, but in bad weather, it was a particular dicey operation. But Aidan knew there was no turning back, for him or for Powell, until they absolutely had to. If the woman was still alive, she might not survive another night in the wilderness.
Aidan didn’t say it aloud, but for the past half hour or so, he’d been plagued by the nagging worry that despite their best efforts, they might come up short this time. SAR operations didn’t always have happy endings. He knew that better than anyone.
His headset sputtered to life.
“See anything?” Powell asked him.
He shook his head. “Negative.”
“Damn.” The frustration in Powell’s voice mirrored Aidan’s concern. Darkness was falling and they were rapidly reaching the point at which the helicopter wouldn’t have enough fuel to return to base. A decision would soon have to be made.
He glanced at Powell. “What do you think?”
Powell’s mouth was set in a grim line. “One more circle and then we’ll have to head in.” He turned south, putting the wind at their tail and the JetRanger sprinted forward.
As they passed over a gorge cut deep into the side of the mountain, Aidan pointed out the window. “I’ve been rock climbing in that canyon. It’s at least a hundred-foot drop to the floor.”
Powell shrugged. “Devil’s Canyon. What of it?”
“If memory serves, there’s an old hunting lodge around here somewhere…yeah, just through that break in the trees. See it? It’s a long shot, but she could be holed up inside, waiting for the weather to clear.”
“I doubt she would have made it up this far, but hold on,” Powell said. “We’ll drop down and see if we spot movement.”
As he swung around, something twinkled in the deep recesses of the canyon, drawing Aidan’s attention. He watched for a moment, thinking it might have been his imagination, but then it came again. A flicker of light.
Couldn’t be a campfire in the rain…
“Did you see that?” Aidan pointed excitedly toward the canyon. “I saw a light down there.”
Powell executed a one-eighty spin, turning his nose straight into the headwind. The helicopter shuddered, as if a giant hand had smacked it across the hull.
The rim of the canyon was nothing but rocks and marshy ground. If they set down, the chopper was likely to sink in the mud and they’d never get it out. Landing on the floor of the narrow ravine was not an option, either, and a rescue party could take hours to get there.
The light kept blinking. It might have been Aidan’s imagination, but the signal seemed more rapid now. More desperate.
“I’ll go down and have a look,” he shouted into the mouthpiece.
“Too windy,” Powell responded. “You’ll get hammered on the rocks before you’ve gone ten feet.”
“Not if you get low enough. The canyon will act as a buffer.”
Powell cut him a look. “You like to live dangerously, don’t you, Campbell?”
He shrugged. “Is there any other way?”
Powell grinned and grabbed the joystick with both hands as he took the chopper down and tried to establish zero airspeed. After several minutes of bucking and pitching, the helicopter was finally situated over the mouth of the canyon.
Throwing off his headset, Aidan climbed into the back and fastened his harness. The JetRanger was specially fitted with an electric hoist that could be operated by the pilot, but until they knew the situation below, a quick insertion into the canyon was the safest bet.
Slipping his radio into his shoulder holster, Aidan opened the jump door to a blast of wind and rain. Balancing himself in the doorway, he threw down a rope and, then snapping his figure eight onto the cable, fast-roped down into the canyon.
Rappelling was the easy part. The canyon walls shielded him from the wind, but the moment he spotted the woman lying on a ledge about fifty feet down, Aidan knew they were in trouble.
She didn’t appear to be conscious, although he knew she had to be on some level in order to have sent the signal. She lay beneath a narrow outcrop of rock that wouldn’t have offered much in the way of protection from the storm. Her clothing was in tatters, her face covered in mud, and her hand, where she gripped the flashlight, was raw and bleeding. She must have tried to grab on to anything she could find to halt her momentum as she fell.
Aidan glanced up, his attention scaling the canyon wall. How she’d managed to survive a fall from that distance was a mystery. And a real testament to her will to survive.
Maneuvering over to the ledge, he unclipped from the rope and quickly knelt beside her. She opened her eyes when he touched her, and by the look of terror on her face, would have screamed if she’d had the energy. Instead, she tried to huddle even deeper into the overhang.
“It’s all right,” Aidan said to her over the rain. “I’m here to help you.”
When she didn’t respond, he said gently, “I’m not going to hurt you. But I have to find out how badly you’re injured before I can get you out of here. Can you move?”
After a moment, she nodded and, uncurling herself, scooted toward him.
“Good. Excellent.” He eyed her carefully. “Can you stand?”
“I…don’t know.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and she sounded so frightened and hopeless that it made Aidan want to wrap his arms around her right then and there. She was small, only about five-four or so, and he doubted she weighed much more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Her hair was matted with mud, but he thought she was a blonde. Her eyes were dark blue and very intense.
He had the impression that she was an attractive woman, but he could see very little of her features through the mud and grime. Not that it mattered. Getting her out of the canyon and to a hospital was his only concern at the moment.
She tried to stand but couldn’t quite manage it even when he helped her. Her knees collapsed and he eased her back onto the ledge.
“Okay, no problem. We’ll do this another way.”
He turned and said into the radio, “Powell? I’ve got the woman, but she’s in pretty bad shape. I’m going to get her into a harness, and then you’ll have to hoist us out.”
“Copy that. Make it quick, Campbell. If we get caught in a down draft, we’re all dead meat.”
As quickly as he could, Aidan slipped leg rings over the woman’s thighs and tightened the harness belt around her waist. Grabbing the cable, he used another figure eight to fasten her harness to his, then he radioed Powell.
“All set! Take us up!” To the woman, he said, “Put your arms around my neck. Don’t worry. I’ve done this before,” he assured her when they lifted off the ground and she gasped.
The first moment of dangling in midair was always the worst. “Don’t look down,” he advised.
To answer, she tightened her arms around his neck.
He could feel her muscles tense even beneath her layers of clothing. She was very light in his arms, but he had a feeling she was a lot stronger that she looked. She would have to be, to survive what she’d been through.
They were about thirty feet from the mouth of the canyon when a gust of wind buffeted the chopper, knocking it forward. The hoist cable shrieked and went taut as it lashed against the JetRanger’s hull.
The woman screamed. The hoist moaned. And Aidan swore.
“It’s okay!” he yelled above the roar of the blades. “I’ve got you! Just hold on tight!”
Overhead, Powell forced down the helicopter’s nose to stabilize the aircraft, but the maneuver caused the cable to swing away from the hull, and all of a sudden, Aidan saw the wall of the canyon rushing to meet them.
He tried to twist around so that he would take the brunt of the collision. His left shoulder smashed into the rock, and as pain shot down his arm, he momentarily released his hold on the woman and they were jerked apart by the impact.
To Aidan’s horror, he heard the figure eight snap, and the woman screamed again as she began to slip free. For a moment, her arms clutched at him wildly, and then Aidan grabbed her. As their eyes met, he recognized the terror in her eyes. He’d seen it before, in another woman’s eyes, a split second before she slipped from his fingers and fell to her death.
He blinked, willing away the memory as he clung to the woman’s arm. Elena had struggled blindly in her terror. She’d twisted and flailed and begged him not to let her fall.
“I don’t want to die. Please, Aidan…”
That same plea was in this woman’s eyes, but amazingly, she didn’t panic, which would have made Aidan’s job that much more difficult. When he shouted for her to grab his other hand, she had the presence of mind to do exactly that.
“Just hold on, okay?”
She nodded, her focus never leaving his.
They dangled over the canyon for what seemed an eternity, but she never once lost her cool. She had to be in pain, not just from the fall, but from the way he clutched her arm. She didn’t so much as flinch.
When they were finally hoisted up to the chopper, Aidan hauled her onto the ski and then boosted her through the jump door. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.
He climbed in behind her, slid the door closed and turned. She’d collapsed on the floor and gone into convulsions. Throwing off the harness, he knelt beside her.
“Get us out of here!” he shouted up to Powell.
“I’d love to do just that,” Powell shouted back. “Unfortunately, we’ve got a little problem.”
They were trapped in a wind shear that kept dragging the helicopter downward. As the tail slewed about, it came dangerously close to the wall.
“Come on,” Aidan said under his breath. “Come on!”
Powell practically yanked the joystick out of the floor to give them lift power. For a moment, he was forced to ride the wind backward, getting closer and closer to the wall until he could maneuver the chopper around and fly with a tailwind out of the canyon.
While Powell battled the wind, Aidan cut off the woman’s wet clothing. Beneath all those soggy layers, her skin was like ice. He rubbed her arms and legs, trying to create enough friction to warm her up.
Rousing, she clung to him for a moment, as if she didn’t yet realize that she was safe.
“You’ll be okay,” he assured her. “We just have to get you warmed up.”
“Don’t let me go,” she whispered.
“I won’t. I promise.”
She was tiny, but surprisingly curvy, and her muscles were rock hard. At the moment, though, Aidan was more interested in the temperature of her body than in its shape.
“F-freezing,” she gasped.
When he had her clothes off, he wrapped her in a blanket, then pulled her into his arms and held her close to his own warm body. She still couldn’t stop shaking.
“Is she going to be okay?” Powell shouted.
She’d better be, Aidan thought grimly as he held her tight. He couldn’t afford to lose another one.
Chapter Three
Thursday, 0900 hours
Kaitlyn came awake with a start. She’d been dreaming that she was falling, and she gasped as she tried to sit up. A firm hand on her shoulder pressed her back down.
“Try to take it easy.”
That voice! Kaitlyn knew it.
She couldn’t place it, but she knew it…
The dream was still so fresh in her mind that she almost expected to feel wind rush past her face as she fell, but instead, she was lying perfectly still in a nice, warm bed.
A hospital bed, to be exact.
Someone had brought her to Ponderosa Memorial, but she only had a vague recollection of being rushed into the E.R. Of bright lights burning into her eyes. Of urgent yet somehow soothing voices speaking to her and above her. She’d been examined and x-rayed…all of which had passed in a blur of pain and confusion.
She was still a little out of it, but not as disoriented as she’d been then. Maybe it was the pain that had snapped her out of the haze. She suddenly felt as if every bone in her body had been crushed. But she knew that wasn’t the case. She was going to be fine. Someone had told her that.
She glanced up at the man whose hand was still her on her shoulder. He had dark eyes and an even darker expression.
“I know you,” she blurted.
Something flickered in those dark eyes. “I hope so. We went to high school together. I’d be very disappointed if you didn’t remember me.”
Frowning, she continued to stare up at him until the lightbulb went on. “Phillip? Phillip Becker?”
His lips tilted slightly, but Kaitlyn had a feeling that for him the gesture was significant. Although she hadn’t seen him in years, the few faint memories she had of Phillip Becker were of a somber, overstudious young man who rarely cracked a smile.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in confusion.
“I’m a doctor. I’ve been on staff here at Memorial for a couple of weeks.”
Why hadn’t she known about that? Word usually traveled fast in such a small town.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“A little after nine.”
She glanced at the window. “But…it’s daylight.”
“Nine in the morning,” he clarified. “You’ve been here all night.”
“I have?”
“You don’t remember being awakened every two hours? The nurses said you were responsive.”
She had a vague recollection, Kaitlyn realized. She frowned as she tried to think back.
Dr. Becker took a light from his lab-coat pocket and bent to check the dilation of her pupils. Next, he held his finger in front of her face and moved it slowly back and forth. “Try to follow my finger,” he instructed. When Kaitlyn did as she was told, he nodded. “Very good.”
Very good. Evidently, she’d passed some kind of test. Yea for her. “How did I get here? I mean, I know how I got here. Someone brought me in, right? But I don’t know…I can’t seem to remember all the details.”
“Two men brought you down the mountain in a chopper,” he said absently as he glanced at her chart.
“A chopper?”
“A helicopter.”
Kaitlyn wasn’t confused by the term. She knew what he meant. But the word had conjured up an image that left her even more confused. A deep voice commanding her to hold on tight. Blue eyes staring deeply into hers as he ran his hands over her body. “We just have to get you warmed up.”
Who was he? she wondered. Where was he?
“I can’t seem to remember a lot of things,” she realized on a note of panic. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing that a little rest won’t take care of,” Dr. Becker assured her. “You have a mild concussion. That explains the disorientation and the memory loss. Short-term amnesia is fairly common with head injuries.”
“What? I have a head injury?” Even more alarmed, Kaitlyn lifted her hand to her head and winced when she felt a bump the size of a goose egg near her right temple.
“Try not to worry. Your MRI and CT look fine. Other than a little soreness, you should be as good as new in a couple of days.”
Relieved, Kaitlyn stared up at the ceiling. “Will I get my memory back?”
“It’s hard to say. I’ve seen car-crash victims who could remember every single detail leading up to the trauma, including the song that was playing on the radio before impact. But they have no recall of the accident itself. Not even weeks, months, sometimes years later. I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug. “There are worse things than forgetting a fifty-foot fall into a canyon.”
She’d fallen fifty feet. Into a canyon. God.
Still exhausted, Kaitlyn closed her eyes. “I suppose you’re right.” It was strange, though, having a gap in one’s recall. She had a feeling those missing moments would nag at her forever.
“Try to concentrate on the positive,” Dr. Becker suggested. “You were trapped on that ledge for nearly twenty-four hours. Any number of things could have happened. I’d say under the circumstances, you’re a very lucky woman. You had a lot of people worried about you.” He nodded toward the door. “One of them is outside right now. She’s already caused quite a stir in the waiting room this morning.”
Kaitlyn looked up in surprise. “She?”
“Eden McClain.” His eyes seemed to darken. “Normally, I’d suggest you try and get a little more rest before you start having visitors, but I have a feeling no one will get any peace around here until she sees for herself that you’re okay.”
That sounded like Eden. The wonder was that she hadn’t been able to finesse or bulldoze her way in before now.
“Shall I let her come in for a few minutes?”
“Yes, of course.” Although how Eden had even known that Kaitlyn was missing, much less hospitalized, was another mystery.
Dr. Becker made a note on her chart. “Don’t let her stay too long. As I said, the best thing I can prescribe for your recovery is plenty of rest.”
“Can I have something for the pain?” Kaitlyn asked meekly.
Becker frowned. “Try to ride it out a little while longer. I’d like to monitor your reflexes for a few more hours, but if the pain doesn’t ease up, I’ll have the nurse give you something mild.” He closed the chart and tucked it under his arm. “Good to see you again, Kaitlyn. Sorry it had to be under these circumstances.”
“You, too…Dr. Becker.”
“Phillip, please,” he said briskly. “After all, we do have something of a past, don’t we?”
He turned then and disappeared through the door, leaving Kaitlyn to wonder just what in the world he’d meant by his parting statement. A past? The two of them?
She didn’t have time to ponder the question for long, however, because a second later, the door burst open and Eden McClain took center stage.
THEY’D KNOWN each other since they were fourteen years old, but Eden’s intensity never failed to impress—and exhaust—Kaitlyn. She was always so focused and so supremely self-confident that Kaitlyn sometimes wondered if her friend had ever experienced even a moment of inadequacy. Somehow Kaitlyn doubted it.
The daughter of a logger and a dressmaker, she’d certainly come a long way since her humble beginnings in Ponderosa. Everyone in the state knew that Eden McClain was the driving force behind Governor Gilbert’s reelection campaign, and Kaitlyn wouldn’t have been at all surprised to learn that her friend harbored political ambitions of her own.
If so, she would be a force to be reckoned with. Feminine and gorgeous on the outside with her power suits and pearls, and hard as nails on the inside.
God help anyone who got in her way, Kaitlyn thought.
Eden walked over to the bed and gave her a quick hug. She always wore the same perfume, something dark and sensuous. She called it her “signature” fragrance, and she guarded the formula as jealously as a lost man might horde water in the desert.
“So how are you feeling?” Ending the embrace quickly, Eden straightened. She’d never been the demonstrative type, and the easy way in which Kaitlyn and her mother had expressed their affection had always made Eden uncomfortable.
“Like I fell off a cliff,” Kaitlyn told her. “But never mind about me. What are you doing in Ponderosa? Shouldn’t you be in Helena wowing Prince Petrov?”
Eden smiled. “Nikolai will just have to wait.”
Kaitlyn’s brows shot skyward. “Nikolai? Well, get you.”
“Yeah, well, the informality is just for your benefit. In public, believe me, it’s His Royal Highness all the way. At any rate, the moment I heard you were missing, I got here as quickly as I could.” Eden gave her a reproachful look. “You had us all scared half to death, especially after the floodwaters receded and the state police found your vehicle. Your father was ready to call in the Marines.”
Kaitlyn gasped. “Dad? He’s not here, is he? Please tell me he’s not in Ponderosa.” In her own way, she loved her powerful father very much, but he could be trying under the best of circumstances. She wasn’t proud of the fact that at thirty, she still found him somewhat intimidating, but at least she was honest enough to admit it these days.
“Lucky for you, he’s still halfway around the world,” Eden said. “I talked to your mother, too, just in case the news of your disappearance made it all the way to Texas. She was upset, naturally, but I managed to convince her that you’re in perfectly capable hands here. She’s staying put for the time being because evidently your grandmother has taken a turn for the worse.”
“I know. Poor Nana.” Kaitlyn lay back against the pillows and sighed. “Thanks for handling all that for me. I owe you one.”
“You can repay me by telling me what possessed you to wander off so far,” Eden scolded. “You were miles from the road when they found you. What on earth were you thinking?”
“I was trying to get a cell-phone signal,” Kaitlyn explained. “And if that didn’t work, I was hoping to make it to Eagle Falls before nightfall. I knew no one would miss me until the next day, and I didn’t want to spend the night camped out on the side of road. It may sound crazy now, but I thought it was a good idea at the time.”
“Yes, well, that seems to be your motto,” Eden said dryly. “You’ve always been impulsive.”
Kaitlyn couldn’t deny the charge so she merely shrugged. “Anyway, I started walking and after that, everything…gets a little hazy.”
Eden frowned. “What do you mean, hazy?”
“It seems I have short-term amnesia.”
“Wow.” Eden let out a long breath. “So…you don’t even remember how you ended up on that ledge?”
Kaitlyn shook her head. “Not really, although I’d say it’s pretty apparent that I fell. Phillip says the amnesia may or may not be permanent.”
“Speaking of Phillip…” Eden glanced at the door, then leaned toward Kaitlyn as she lowered her voice. “I just can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that he’s a doctor. God only knows what his bedside manner is like. He always gave me the creeps back in high school.”
“I think he’s just shy,” Kaitlyn said.
Eden gave her a look. “That’s a kind way of putting it. Do you remember what a crush Jenny used to have on him? She was always such a needy little thing. But I suppose you can’t blame her. An alcoholic mother, an abusive father…she was a walking cliché. She used to latch on to anyone who had a kind word for her.”
“You know, I’d forgotten all about that,” Kaitlyn said in surprise. “She did have a thing for Phillip, didn’t she?”
“Big time. But good ol’ Phil only had eyes for you. Like every other guy in town.”
Kaitlyn could have sworn she heard a tinge of resentment in Eden’s voice, but when she looked up, her friend’s dark eyes were completely guileless. As was her smile. “Not your fault you were so darn irresistible. Besides, men are such suckers for blue-eyed blondes.”
Kaitlyn gave her an exasperated look. “You’re exaggerating, as usual. Besides, I don’t recall you ever having a shortage of admirers. And from what I hear, you pretty much have Peter Gilbert wrapped around your little finger.”
“Just goes to show, you can’t believe everything you hear.” Eden laughed, but there was a flash of bitterness in her eyes. “Forget about Peter. Tell me about that hunk of eye candy that brought you to the hospital yesterday. Aidan Campbell.”
“Aidan who?”
Eden looked flabbergasted. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten him. Because if you have, I’d say you need to have your head re-examined.”
She hadn’t forgotten him exactly, Kaitlyn realized, as that same image came back to her. The whirring blades, the strong arms, those eyes staring down at her.
“I think he has blue eyes.”
“Blue eyes?” Eden gave a little laugh. “That’s like saying Montana has a lot of trees. Yeah, he has blue eyes. Crystal clear and surrounded by lovely, dark lashes…I could go on, but I won’t. Let’s just say the man has the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen and leave it at that.”
“Wait a minute.” Kaitlyn turned to glare at her. “How do you know what he looks like?”
“Because I met him last night. He came by the hospital to see how you were doing. You were resting so we didn’t want to disturb you, but we had a nice little chat before he left.”
“You were here last night? How in the world did you find out so quickly?” Kaitlyn asked in astonishment.
Eden merely shrugged. “You forget, my dear, I now have contacts all over the state. That and the fact that when I called the paper yesterday afternoon looking for you, the receptionist told me that you were missing. I came as soon as I could.”
“You really didn’t have to do that. I know how busy you are these days.”
Eden waved a dismissive hand. “You’d do the same for me.” She pulled up a chair and sat down. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Gorgeous, blue eyes.”
Kaitlyn was amused by her friend’s rather obvious segue back to the subject of her rescuer. She’d never heard Eden sound quite so effusive. “So tell me about the rest of this guy.”
“Oh, the rest of him isn’t too shabby, either, if you like wide shoulders and sun-bronzed skin. A Mr. December if ever I saw one,” Eden said, referring to the pinup calendar she and Jenny and Kaitlyn had drooled over one year in high school. Mr. December had been by far the hottest month and remained, to this day, the standard by which Eden judged all men. At least in her more shallow moments.
“A Mr. December?” Kaitlyn laughed. “I think you’re exaggerating again.”
“Oh, really? Why don’t you judge for yourself then? He’s in the waiting room even as we speak.”
Kaitlyn glanced up at her in alarm. “He’s been here all night? Why?”
“No, relax. He came in right after I did this morning. He said he wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay.” Eden paused. “Do you want me to go get him?”
Kaitlyn ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know. I must look like—“
“A hag? Yes, you’re positively hideous,” Eden agreed dryly. “But as luck would have it, I’ve brought you a care package.” She placed a bag from Ferguson’s drugstore on Kaitlyn’s bed. “Hairbrush, lipstick, mascara. And if you’re good, I’ll go by your apartment and pack a few things for you before I leave today.”
“You wouldn’t mind? Hospital gowns can get a little drafty if you know what I mean.” Kaitlyn rummaged through the bag. “You’re a real lifesaver, Eden.”
“Yes, that’s me,” she said airily as she headed for the door. “But a word to the wise…” She paused and glanced over her shoulder. Mischief glinted in her eyes. “You may have seen Aidan Campbell first, but I’ve already picked out a name for our firstborn.”
EDEN REALLY HADN’T exaggerated, Kaitlyn realized when her rescuer walked into the room.
Aidan Campbell was about as dreamy as a man could get, but his rugged features kept him from being too dreamy.
But, boy, oh boy, did he bring the shivers.
Wide shoulders…sun-kissed hair…bronzed skin. Eden had described him to a T, and his eyes—gorgeous indeed—had the unique ability to appear warm and cold at the same time.
He had the look of a man who could turn a woman inside out, and Kaitlyn’s stomach fluttered with awareness as their gazes met.
A dozen images flitted through her head. His blue eyes staring intently into hers. His deep voice commanding her not to panic. His callused hands moving skillfully over her bare skin to warm her up.
And then she thought, quite inanely, Why, this man has seen me naked. We haven’t even really met yet and already he knows what I look like without my clothes on.
She couldn’t look at him without thinking about it.
“Kaitlyn?”
The sound of her name on his lips sent another shiver up her spine and a sophomoric blush to her cheeks. Kaitlyn wasn’t the type to be swept off her feet by a good-looking man, but for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to remember her own name.
An apologetic frown flickered across his brow. “I’m sorry. I’ve obviously come at a bad time. I can stop by later—”
“No! I mean, uh, that’s fine. This isn’t a bad time. It’s a perfectly fine time. I’m…fine…” And obviously babbling. She stopped and drew a breath. “You must be Mr. Campbell,” she said in a more poised tone.
“Aidan.” He let the door close behind him as he crossed the room to her bed.
Up close, he seemed even taller than she’d first thought. Toned and athletic, he walked with the kind of easy grace that came with confidence and accomplishment. A man who knew how to get what he wanted and almost always did.
Kaitlyn suppressed a shudder as he extended a hand and took hers.
He smiled.
She smiled.
And fireworks exploded all around them.
Oh, wait…that was just inside her head, she realized.
She drew back her hand. “I’m not sure what to say to the man who saved my life. A mere thank-you seems a bit lame.”
He shrugged. “It’ll do just fine, but I don’t think I saved your life. You strike me as pretty resourceful. Not many people could have survived a tumble like that, much less the kind of exposure to the elements you had to face. I have a feeling if we hadn’t come along when we did, you would have clawed your way off that ledge.”
“You think so?” Kaitlyn was foolishly flattered by his praise. “But then…I might have broken a nail or something, so it’s just as well you saved me the trouble.”
He said quite seriously, “Have you checked your nails lately?”
She glanced down at her hands and winced. “You weren’t kidding about the clawing, were you?” She hid them under the cover.
He grinned. “In any case, I’m glad you’re okay.”
We just have to get you warmed up.
Why couldn’t she stop thinking about that? Especially now, when she felt quite toasty. And that smile! Where had this man been all her life?
How was it that their paths had never crossed in a place as small as Ponderosa?
His expression sobered. “You are okay, aren’t you?”
“I will be.” She adjusted the blanket. “No serious injuries, I’m happy to report. The doctor says I’ll probably be getting out of here in a day or two.”
“That’s good news.” He glanced around. “Mind if I sit?”
“Please.” Kaitlyn motioned to the chair Eden had vacated. Now that she’d managed to regain her equilibrium, she was in no hurry for Aidan Campbell to leave. No hurry at all.
He pulled up the chair and sat down at her bedside. “Are you up to answering a few questions?”
“You sound like a cop,” she said in surprise.
He shrugged. “I’m just curious as to what you were doing out in the middle of nowhere alone in a rainstorm.”
“That seems to be the question of the day,” Kaitlyn muttered. “I’m a reporter for the Ponderosa Monitor. I was on my way to Warden Green’s press conference…” She trailed off. “You’ve heard about the prison break, I assume?”
“It’s been all over the news for the past two days.”
She nodded. “Anyway, I was on my way to the press conference when I got caught in the flood. I had to leave my vehicle and head for high ground. I was hoping if I kept walking, I’d be able to get a cell-phone signal. And I knew if I headed north, I’d eventually reach Eagle Falls.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “And then you what?…walked off the edge into that ravine?”
“Well, see, that’s where things get a little screwy,” she admitted. “I can’t seem to remember what happened. I must have stumbled in the dark. Or maybe I got caught in a mudslide.” She lifted her shoulders helplessly. “I don’t remember what happened. I only have a vague recollection of the rescue. I heard the helicopter and then I saw you staring down at me…the next thing I know, I’m in the hospital.” She paused. “If you hadn’t come along when you did, there’s no telling how long I might have been on that ledge. I don’t know who sent you and your friend out to look for me, but I’m grateful to everyone involved.”
“Actually, we were already out there searching when we got the call that a woman was missing. But if you hadn’t had the presence of mind to use your flashlight to send up a signal, we’d never have spotted you.”
“It was the only thing I had in my pocket,” Kaitlyn said. “I must have lost my cell phone when I fell. Anyway, when I heard the helicopter, I started clicking the light on and off and praying that whoever was up there would see it.”
“And we did.”
“And you did.” She eyed him for a moment. “But now I have a question. You said you were already out there searching when you heard about me. Who were you looking for?”
“We were looking for the fugitives.”
Kaitlyn frowned. “But…you said you’re not a cop.” Her tone sounded vaguely accusing.
“I’m not.”
“A fed, then?”
“I’m a bounty hunter.”
“A bounty hunter?” Kaitlyn would never have guessed that. Bounty hunters were oily little men who crept around in dark, sleazy places, weren’t they? Aidan Campbell didn’t fit that image at all. She bit her lip. “Wait a minute. You must work for Cameron Murphy.”
It was Aidan’s turn to seem surprised. “You know Murphy?”
“Only by reputation,” Kaitlyn admitted. “His apprehension of Boone Fowler is practically legendary around here. I’ve been trying to get an interview with him for years. I’d give anything to know what his reaction is to the prison break. Maybe you could put in a good word for me.”
She regretted the request the moment the words were out of her mouth, especially when she saw the shutters drop over Aidan’s blue eyes. His expression, friendly before, became remote and chilly, and he stood abruptly. “I should get out of here and let you rest.”
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