Heroes In Uniform (167 page)

She glanced over her shoulder. She couldn’t see the men now, but she could still hear them behind her. Hoping to throw them off her trail, she changed direction, moving deeper into the mountains.

Her side burned and each breath became harder to take. Her right leg had become a dead weight, forcing her to drag it and depend more heavily on the cane. Mallory suspected the reason she wasn’t feeling intense pain from her ankle was because she was knee-deep in snow and numb from that point down.

She could no longer hear her pursuers. Hadn’t heard them for some time. It appeared she’d lost them. Her stomach unclenched in relief.

She could not turn back and risk running into the men and she could not remain out here indefinitely. She needed to take shelter. She needed some time to think and she needed to find a way to communicate with the Bureau.

Focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, she moved on. Eventually, she came to a cabin. Her body seemed to sway toward it, but she ignored the yearning. Entering a cabin could be dangerous. She shuddered, leery of ending up at Billy’s cabin. She would need to take some time to observe the place before approaching to ascertain that the place was not Billy’s.

She needed to find out if the cabin was occupied. There was a large front window, but she couldn’t risk exposure from it. A window high on the front door, devoid of curtains, would give her a view of the inside.

Her vision wavered. The snow looked fluffy, untouched up here, thick and welcoming like a blanket. The urge to just lie down on that snow, to sink into it, pulled at her. She shook her head. She blinked and took another step. She had to make it. Just a few steps more.

An overhang kept the snow from falling onto the porch but the snow drift had built on one side and was as high as her thighs. She waded through it toward the door, but stopped short of it, flattening herself against the cabin, letting the sturdy structure take her weight. She rose onto her toes to peer into the window. Her eyes rolled back. She fell against the door then everything went black.

Snowbound: Chapter Two

What was that? Gage Broderick turned away from the frozen dinner he was nuking. Sounded like a knock at the door. Impossible. It was a blizzard outside, and he was in the middle of nowhere.

But the sound nagged. Ignoring the beep from the microwave signaling that his meal was done, he made his way across the rough-hewn plank floor of the cabin to the equally rough door and opened it.

A woman fell into his arms. Gage caught her against him as a cold gust of wind blew inside. Snow swirled in the air, the crystal flakes dancing then landing on the wood floor and instantly becoming puddles of water.

The woman was unconscious, wet, and so cold, goose bumps rose on Gage’s own flesh from merely touching her.

The last thing he wanted was company. He felt a surge of anger at the intrusion. He had an instant—a flash—of just leaving her where he’d found her. He went still. He closed his eyes. It was a near thing but he wasn’t that far gone. He hadn’t completely lost his humanity. Yet.

He lifted the unconscious woman into his arms and carried her inside, kicking the door shut behind him. With the door closed, the wind was gone. More than the absence of cold, the cabin was again quiet other than the sound of the clock on the mantel ticking and the groans and squeaks of the old wood as he made his way into the living room.

He placed the woman on the leather couch and checked her pulse. Slow but steady. There was blood along her hair line. He parted her thick, brown hair gently and found a long gash at one temple that looked raw, enough to hurt but not severe enough to be life threatening. He probed further, but found no other cuts. He thumbed open her eye lids. Pupils were normal. Not concussed, then. He’d clean the head wound, but that was no longer his first concern.

Her hair was tucked in the collar of her T-shirt. Oddly, she wore no coat. Her face had little more color than the white shirt. He had to get her warm.

The snow on her skin was melting and droplets of water glistened on her face and in her hair. He got a towel from the linen cupboard and gently dried her skin, then moved on, drying her hair as best he could with the cloth.

Tossing the towel aside, he made short work of one boot, dropping it onto the floor, but as he tried to remove the other, it held. He ran his fingers gently over her lower leg and felt swelling in her ankle. Broken? He needed to free her leg. He estimated that the woman had been inside with him for about three minutes. She hadn’t stirred in that time. Better that she hadn’t. The way her boot had molded to her ankle, when he forced it, it was going to hurt.

With her boots off, he saw that her white socks were soaked through. He peeled them off carefully. Her right ankle was swollen, all right. Swollen but not broken, he judged and on its way to getting one hell of a bruise. He figured she’d had enough ice on that foot, thanks to the snow. Nothing he could do for it.

Her jeans were wet. Her T-shirt soaked through. No help for it, he was going to have to remove them. By the time he’d taken off the garments, he’d broken into a sweat. Not the result of shifting her slight body weight the few times needed to remove the clothing, but from what had been revealed to him. A tight, sexy body now clad only in a lacy bra thing and matching bikini panties.

Her underwear was also too wet to leave on and would have to go as well. Gage rubbed a hand that was no longer steady down his face then quickly finished undressing her. He yanked the thick blanket that was draped along the back of the couch and wrapped her in it. He rubbed her arms and legs to stimulate circulation, careful of her injured ankle. When her flesh took on a healthy pink tone, he cleaned her head wound and applied antiseptic. The bleeding had stopped so he left it to air dry rather than dressing it.

She’d slept through his treatment. He debated rousing her, but decided against it. Her color was back. Her head wound superficial. Her breathing was deep and even. No doubt she was tired after walking up this mountain—and in a blizzard no less. The woman was lucky to be alive.

What was she doing all the way up here? Gage shook his head. Didn’t matter. Not his problem. What was his problem was that she’d landed on his doorstep. He felt another burst of anger at that.
Wrong time. Wrong place, baby.

The cabin was deep in the mountain and no doubt after the trek she’d just had, she was worn out. He carried her to the only bedroom, placed her on the bed and covered her with the thick down comforter. He left the room, closing the door.

What she needed now was rest. He’d leave her to it, let her sleep a few hours, then he’d get rid of her.

* * *

Mallory opened her eyes and groaned. Her head hurt. And her eyes. Part of the cause of her pain had to be the light streaming in through the uncovered window. Not bright sunlight, but daylight, and too bright for her nonetheless.

She turned away from it and the movement sent another jolt of pain to her head. She raised a hand to her temple and closed her eyes again at the hurt that shot up her arm.

Her head and arm weren’t the only parts of her that hurt. She hurt everywhere. The biggest offender though was her ankle. It throbbed as if there was someone inside banging to get out.

Where was she? On a bed. An immense bed. In a room that could only be described as rustic. The furniture, the four huge posts of the bed, a dresser, and a chest of drawers were rough-hewn from knotted wood. The walls were a dark wood.

How had she gotten here? Where exactly was
here
?

She frowned. The last thing she remembered was stumbling across a cabin and making her way to the porch to check for occupants. She hadn’t entered the cabin in case it was the one that belonged to Billy. Someone else had brought her inside.

She shifted position and then it struck her: Beneath the blanket, she was naked.

Someone had removed her clothing. The occupants of the blue van? Had she been wrong in believing she’d lost them in the blizzard? Her throat closed. Perspiration broke out on her skin. Removing a captive’s clothing was number one as a means of intimidation.

It was working. For an instant, her mind filled with images of the horrors Miles and Hugo had described would be done to her during her interrogation.

She pushed her hair back from her face with a hand that trembled. Her brow was damp. Her heart was beating hard with fear. How was she going to get out of here?

She glanced to the window where frost glistened on the glass pane. Too small for her to fit through. It would have to be the door then. She firmed her lips, firmed her resolve.

She was alone. She didn’t know how long she had before Considine sent one of his people to check on her, so she had no time to waste.

She sat up, then fought a wave of dizziness. She closed her eyes briefly, riding it out, then tossed the blanket aside. Goose bumps rose on her flesh in the chill air. Shivering, she left the bed. As she put weight on her right leg, she winced. She recalled being hurt in the accident. The leg could be a problem, particularly if she needed to travel a long distance on foot. Nothing to be done about that now. She’d do what she had to do.

Her clothes were not in sight. If she was going to get out, she couldn’t do it wrapped in a blanket. There wasn’t a closet in this room but the chest of drawers was across from the bed. Gingerly, she made her way to it, keeping her movements slow and deliberate to keep from putting her foot wrong and losing her balance, and to keep from making any noise that might alert anyone else in the cabin with her that she was conscious.

The clothing in the drawers was for a man or men and by the size of the garments, large men. There were a half dozen pairs of jeans all neatly stacked. She would need to fold the legs back several inches to be able to walk in them, but then she spotted a pair of sweat pants in a steel gray with a drawstring waist and elastic at the cuffs. These would serve better. In another drawer, she found a fleece-lined top and socks.

Mallory dressed quickly. She looked around the room for her boots, but apparently those were gone as well. Nor were there any men’s shoes about. She went to the bedroom door in her stocking feet, and hoped she’d find her boots before she needed to leave.

When she reached the door, she stood against it. She told herself her only reason was to put her ear to the wood and listen for sounds in the outer rooms, but as she satisfied herself that she heard none, she remained where she was. She needed a moment to collect herself. Her breathing was rapid. Her body had grown damp from perspiration brought on by exertion. She felt as wrung out as a wet mop. And that was just from the short walk from the chest of drawers to the door. She was going to have to do a lot better if she intended to make it out of here alive.

She couldn’t risk opening the door without knowing where it would lead. If someone happened to be in front of it, or was assigned to keep watch, she would give herself away. Biting her lip, she considered her options. She was in no condition to take on several men. Her only chance was to lure one of them in here. She needed more than her bare hands to take a man down today, and looked around for a weapon.

A large, pot-bellied porcelain lamp sat on the nightstand by the bed. She picked it up and flung it against the mirror above the dresser. The mirror shattered. Dropping to her knees, she picked up a shard of glass that was the length and width of her hand. Back at the door, she stood to the side and waited for someone to investigate the source of the noise.

The door was thrown open and a man ran into the room. She’d been right that at least one of the men in the cabin was large. Just her luck that it was a large man who was the one to respond.

Mallory seized his wrist, squeezed the pressure point, and twisted. She drove his arm high up his back then pressed the tip of the glass shard to his right kidney.

“What the—”

“Move and it will be the last move you make,” she interrupted, keeping her voice low not to alert anyone else in the cabin.

Though he didn’t utter another sound, his mouth tightened. She knew she was hurting him, but hoped her effort was enough to keep him subdued, because in her present condition, she wasn’t capable of more.

“How many men are in this cabin?” When he didn’t respond immediately, she applied more pressure to his arm. “Answer me.”

“I’m alone here.”

“Where are the others? Where’s Considine?”

“I don’t know any Considine. And, again, I’m alone here.”

Mallory’s breathing quickened. “When is Considine getting here? How much time do we have?”

“No one’s coming. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mallory ignored that. “You’re going to walk me out of here and then drive me off this mountain.” Her voice quavered and she cleared her throat to force some strength into it. “Now, turn around. Slowly. We’re going into the other room. If you lied to me, if any one is out there, you want to warn them not to try and stop us. I can and will—”

Before she could finish her sentence, she was flat on her back on the rope rug by the door with one-hundred-eighty pounds of male looming above her.

He pinned her arms atop her head. “Drop it!”

When she didn’t comply, he pried her fingers open and the glass hit the floor. Mallory summoned all of her strength and brought her knee up, aiming for his groin. The man shifted at the last instant, saving himself from what would have been a powerful hit.

His nostrils flared. “Stop.”

Mallory ignored his command. Heat emanated from him. She could feel his barely leashed anger and his barely leashed control. She bucked to dislodge him, fighting back with all she had in her. But he dropped his weight on her, pinning her with his legs, then he simply held her beneath him while Mallory continued to strain against his hold.

He clenched his teeth. “Keep this up and I’m going to have to hurt you.”