Blind Trust: A Military Romantic Suspense (Men of Steele Book 6) Page 10

  Whatever. “Help me pack up and we’ll head out,” he said, cleaning up their breakfast mess.

  The shooting had stopped, and he could tell the absence of it bothered her almost as much as the noise. Whether that silence meant the men were leaving or had merely finished target practice, they’d find out soon enough.

  Todd looked at his snow-dusted tent. If he lightened his load—or better yet, left most of it behind—they could move faster. Plus, depending on her condition, he might need to carry Megan out of the compound. He couldn’t do that with a full pack.

  Worst case, they could return here and camp would already be set up.

  “Any chance you’d let me go alone?” he asked, running through a mental checklist of everything he needed. He didn’t expect her to say yes—wasn’t sure he wanted her to—but he’d regret it later if he didn’t offer.

  “You would do that?”

  The tone of her voice made him look over at her. “Of course.”

  “Why?”

  “Never mind that rescuing people is what I did for a living as a PJ. Or that I have the training and the experience to get in and out alive.” He closed the gap between them and held her gaze as the first rays of dawn washed the sky. “Mostly I hate the idea of you anywhere near those assholes and their guns. If anything happened to you…”

  He couldn’t stand the thought.

  “What would hurt me,” she said, “is having something happen to you while I sat out the rescue like a coward. Especially because this is my mess, and Megan is my friend. If I were paying you, it might be different, but you’re an innocent bystander.”

  Hardly. “It’s not a contest.” Couldn’t she see that he was far more qualified for this op? “I would do it anyway, but I need to save Megan as much as you do. She’s our alibi. You and I were both thrown into something beyond our control.”

  “Then we should both go to the compound.”

  Shit. He actually laughed. He’d walked right into that one, hadn’t he?

  Lindsey crossed her arms. “If I had to wait here, wondering what you were facing, if Megan was alive, when—or if—you’d return, I’d go out of my fucking mind.”

  He palmed the back of her head and let his forehead fall against hers, sighing a foggy puff of surrender. “Okay.”

  He could tell himself she’d be safer with him than stuck alone in the wilderness as a novice camper. He could make a convincing case that he might need her help with Megan, or to act as a lookout. He could argue that JJ’s men might find her here alone and unprotected and do…things he couldn’t even bring himself to ponder.

  But ultimately, he just wanted them to stay together.

  He had this—probably misguided—feeling, superstition maybe, that they’d be safer with each other than alone. Honestly, there were no great options. Might as well keep her close as long as possible.

  She pressed her cool, dry lips to his and he fell into the kiss, buoyed by her touch, her taste, the hunger that coursed through him. If they survived, he was going to beg her to go someplace where they could be naked for a week, nonstop.

  Their tongues wrestled desperately. He wanted to strip her bare and lay her in the snow and love her until neither of them could see straight. Instead, he gave her one last hard kiss before releasing her, both of them catching their breath as they stared into each other’s eyes.

  Ten minutes later, he finished stashing everything in the tent and looked at her, more afraid for someone else than he’d ever been in his life. “Ready?”

  Steady. He couldn’t afford to lose focus now. The stakes were too high.

  She nodded, looking a little goofy wearing the cut-off sleeves of his yellow rain jacket as gaiters to keep the snow out of her boots. The snow pants he’d presciently shoved into his bag at the last minute now protected him. The cold was bad enough. Getting wet would be worse.

  Lindsey nodded and they tromped toward the trail.

  Todd had been right about the difficulty of walking through the snow long distance. Unlike sand—which was hard on the calves, shifting under the feet with each step—the snow required Lindsey to lift her knee with each step. Thirty minutes in, her hip flexors starting protesting, but she stretched a bit and kept going.

  The tree boughs lining the path hung low, laden with their frosty bounty, dripping under the sun’s increasing glare. Small animal tracks, branches, and leaves marred the otherwise pristine white ground.

  Their shoes squeaked through the snow, almost obliterating the sounds of their harsh breaths. How were they going to sneak up on the compound? Between the noise and full daylight, they had little chance of a stealth approach.

  Todd had located a different path on his map to avoid the section of trail that had disintegrated. By the time they could see the cluster of trees surrounding the small cabins, they’d been walking for nearly ninety minutes. Sweat trickled down her sides and snaked along her spine, her body finally warm from their exertion. And nerves.

  Lindsey’s blood surged in her ears as they slowed and crept toward the collection of small cabins, carefully lifting their feet with each step to keep their noise level below that of the wind in the trees. She winced with every crunch.

  Was Megan still here? Still alive?

  Todd led her through the forest, somehow sleek and silent as a leopard. Next to him, she felt about as covert as a hippo.

  When they reached the fence at the edge of the open space that had been cleared around the cabins, he crouched behind a tangle of bushes. She followed suit, her breath loud in her ears, and they watched the main cabin unable to see into the high windows.

  Two oversized pickup trucks sat on a gravel drive out front, sunlight glinting off their chrome grills.

  Footsteps sounded from their left and Lindsey gripped Todd’s arm, freezing like a startled deer.

  A man appeared out of the trees, a large rifle held close to his chest in that universal way of military and law enforcement that always made her worry about carpal tunnel syndrome. He wore black from head to toe, like some kind of commando, his pale face a harsh contrast.

  He passed slowly, eyes alert, expression bored as he trod a circular path that had been dug out of the snow.

  Time ticked by at glacial speeds as she and Todd held position. Quiet. Unmoving.

  Brave birds resumed their chirping.

  Lindsey tried to become one with the forest, and it was almost peaceful.

  Her legs tingled from lack of circulation, limbs shaky as her adrenaline levels returned to the elevated baseline she’d established since being taken hostage on Friday.

  Another guard wearing a green watch cap with his black pseudo-uniform passed by about fifteen minutes after the first one, moving in the same direction.

  Still, she and Todd waited.

  Another fifteen minutes or so and the man in the black cap came around again.

  Once the guard had passed out of range, Todd whispered, “Let’s go.”

  Todd pushed his way through a gap in the bushes and grabbed Lindsey’s hand as she emerged on the other side. He helped her climb the chain-link fence and then quickly scaled it behind her, hoping the trees provided adequate concealment.

  Intertwining her gloved fingers with his, he carefully jogged along a mostly cleared path toward the side of the main cabin, keeping an eye out for tripwires and booby traps as he tugged her along beside him.

  They weren’t exactly quiet, but the wind rustling the trees and rattling the window shutters was enough to cover the sound of their advance. He halted beneath a window on the west end of the small house and encouraged her to crouch beside him between two red-leafed bushes, releasing her hand so he could focus.

  The muffled murmur of male voices in conversation filtered through the glass. He waited and listened. Next to him, Lindsey stroked the peeling siding, flaking off a chip of white paint with her fingertip.

  She seemed drawn to touching things. More than once, he’d caught her running her fingertips over a bush, a
blade of tall grass, or her clothing. The memory of her fingers on his bare skin just about drove him wild.

  Dragging his gaze away from her beautiful glove-wrapped hands—yep, he was that far gone—he scanned the surrounding area. Either everyone else was indoors, or they’d left.

  If he and Lindsey were quiet enough, it shouldn’t matter either way.

  He stretched up to the side of the window and peeked through the gaps in the downward-pointing slats of the wooden blinds on the inside. Two men in their early twenties sprawled on an orange couch. One had a shaved head and brown eyebrows, the other’s short blond hair was mostly hidden beneath a snap-back cap. Both sported tattoos down their muscular arms.

  Damn. He should’ve known they’d be jacked. Didn’t mean they were good fighters, but it didn’t bode well, especially if they significantly outnumbered him and Lindsey.

  Blue light flickered across the men’s faces, and Blondie laughed at something on the TV screen, nudging his buddy with an elbow.

  Sliding carefully to the other side of the window, Todd got a narrow glimpse of a galley kitchen and a pair of legs clad in black cargo pants. The other two rooms in the house were hidden behind closed doors.

  Lowering himself to Lindsey, he held up three fingers.

  “Megan?” she said so softly he had to read her lips.

  He shook his head and pointed left. He hadn’t seen any women, but maybe Megan was in a different room. None of the cabins appeared to be individually guarded, but they would check them all, if necessary.

  He crept past one of the closed-off rooms he’d seen—based on the small, frosted glass window, probably a bathroom—and continued on. The far side of the house sat in shadow, but a faint glow came from the single window. Rough, orange curtains had been drawn wide.

  Todd stood to the side and hazarded a glance. Beside him, Lindsey peeked in and frowned, then met his gaze, eyes wider.

  Inside, two men stood at a table, their backs to the window. The repurposed bedroom looked like a war room. Maps of Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming covered the walls, with little red Xs scattered over each. More worrisome was the stack of paper-and-plastic-wrapped bricks of what Todd could only guess were drugs.

  Not his area of expertise.

  But the weapons? Those were easy enough to ID. The men were filling crates with AR-15s, M-16s, a variety of handguns, and boxes of ammo.

  What the fuck had he and Lindsey walked into?

  Whatever it was, there was no sign of Megan. As quietly as possible, he and Lindsey darted from tree to tree, working counterclockwise through the camp to check the smaller buildings for occupants. They found no sign of her friend until they reached the shack at the top of the circle, and heard indistinct voices from inside.

  Nearly all the paint had peeled off the siding of the one-room cabin, leaving behind cracked, gray wood slowly rotting away at the base. Overhead, wind-propelled pine boughs scratched at the shingles, providing some cover for the soft crunching of his and Lindsey’s boots in the snow.

  They stilled beside the nearest window. After ensuring neither of the perimeter guards was doubling back, Todd focused his attention on the filtered bits of conversation. There were at least two voices, one deep, one much higher-pitched, most likely female. His brain perked up. Could they have found Megan?

  Lindsey caught his gaze, her eyes bright with excitement.

  Todd stared at his feet, trying to picture in his mind where the people were in the building and determine if they were the only ones inside. Gesturing Lindsey to stay put and keep an eye out, he crept around the backside of the cabin, past a narrow frosted window, and stopped on the other end of the house next to a window mostly covered by faded green curtains.

  “This is fucking boring,” the woman said, her voice louder than from his previous position.

  “What did you expect?” the man grumbled.

  Holy shit. Pete. Todd’s body throbbed with adrenaline. He was ninety-nine percent sure.

  Moving carefully but quickly, he returned to Lindsey. He pointed to himself and then to his eyes and the window. If the pair was facing the other direction as he suspected, they shouldn’t see him.

  Revealing as little of himself as possible, he peered through a gap in the curtains. Inside, Pete lounged on a stained brown sofa with a TV remote in one hand and a beer in the other. Todd’s hands curled into fists and he had to force himself not to rush the door. A blonde sat at the other end of the couch with her legs curled under her and a paperback book in her hands. If it was Megan, she must not have been considered much of a flight risk. There was no sign of Pete’s gun, which likely meant he had it holstered. And his posture was relaxed as he watched the silent MMA fight playing out on the small television across from him.

  Todd’s mind raced as he turned to scan for threats and let Lindsey take a look. Her friend had appeared unharmed, so she could probably get the woman to safety even if something happened to him. Even better, with the element of surprise, he might get the jump on Pete.

  The only problem—one he’d been too distracted by Lindsey and their predicament to give serious thought to until now—was what to do with Pete after that. He couldn’t shoot the man in cold blood, regardless of the asshole’s history. He couldn’t drag the man down the mountain with them. He couldn’t hold him at gunpoint and call the police—basically his original plan—when the police were the enemy right now.

  Todd glanced at Lindsey. Could Todd give up catching the man who’d murdered his cousin and nearly killed Todd’s best friend for her? To save her friend?

  How were those even legitimate questions? He wasn’t in the killing business, he was in the saving business.

  Fuck.

  Lindsey retreated from the window, a mile-wide grin on her beautiful face that rendered him mute. She threw her arms around him and excitedly whispered in his ear, “It’s Meg!”

  He hugged Lindsey tight and silently asked Bethany and Jason for forgiveness.

  Lindsey could hardly stand still as she watched Todd line up in front of the cabin door. Megan was inside! But they had to get the jump on the guard, a man who appeared bigger and stronger than Todd. And probably meaner for good measure.

  Her stomach threatened to reject her breakfast.

  With a quick glance to ensure she was out of the line of fire as he’d instructed, Todd raised his foot and kicked the door, right next to the flimsy lock. None of the cabins had deadbolts, save the big one on the opposite end of the compound.

  The door slammed open.

  Meg yelped.

  The man on the couch jumped and turned, reaching for something behind his back.

  “Don’t fucking twitch, Pete!” Todd aimed his gun at the other man’s chest, his own stance solid, his face flushed but eerily calm.

  Wait, did Todd know this guy?

  Maybe he’d overheard the man’s name when he was eavesdropping outside. Reasonable, but unease hooked its claws into her skin.

  “Drop your weapon and slide it away from you.”

  The big man’s face turned red, but he set his shiny gun on the floor and kicked it toward Meg. “I heard you were sniffing around. You fixin’ to shoot me, Okie?” he asked, in a mocking accent. “One shout from me and you’ll be outnumbered.”

  Okie? Either Pete had a knack for accents, or they knew each other.

  “You yell, I pull the trigger,” Todd said, his blue eyes glittering like shards of ice. “It’s the least you deserve for Bethany and Jason. Don’t think I’ll hesitate.”

  Pete flinched.

  What the hell was going on?

  “Lindsey?” Megan stood to the side of the sofa with no visible injuries, her eyes wide. “Ohmigod. What are you doing here?”

  Lindsey rushed past the men to give Meg a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay. We came back for you.”

  Megan pulled back, her gaze skittering between the men and back to Lindsey, her brows drawn. “Where’d you find the hottie?”

  Was that really the
most pressing thing on her friend’s mind right now? Maybe she was in shock. “He saved me from JJ,” Lindsey said. “I can tell more you on the way down.” She looked around the single room, which held a ratty couch, a scarred coffee table, a microwave atop a mini-fridge, and a double bed shoved into the far corner. Had Meg been forced to share that bed? Something dark and tar-like slid down her throat at the thought. “Is there a jacket you can grab?”

  Megan’s expression was a disconcerting blend of disbelief and uncertainty. “Uh, sure.”

  “I’ve gotta hand it to you, Brennan,” the guard said, holding his beefy hands in the air. “I never expected you to chase me all the way to Montana.”

  A fist squeezed all the air from her lungs. So Todd had been tracking Pete all along?

  It made sense. He’d been heading up the trail toward the compound when they’d met, and she’d sensed several times that he was keeping something from her…

  And yet, he’d kept her safe and done exactly as she asked, bringing her here to rescue Meg. Maybe not for purely selfless reasons after all, but did that matter?

  No. But why lie?

  Her heart kicked. Unless it had all been lies. She had trusted him almost instantly, but what did she really know?

  His character.

  His protectiveness.

  The touch of his hands, his lips, the way he filled her body…

  She flushed from head to toe and mentally shook off the images. She’d taken him at his word that he was a bodyguard, a former PJ. It had explained his skills and his gun and his contacts. But if he were somehow involved with these men—Competitors? Unhappy co-conspirators?—that would also fit.

  Oh, God.

  “Then you never knew me very well,” Todd said, his voice hard and deadly. And, frankly, scary as hell.

  Pete wasn’t the only one who’d misjudged him.

  Glancing at Megan, Lindsey said, “Come on. We need to get out of here.” She could get them to town on her own if she had to. Todd and Pete could sort out whatever shit they had going on without her.