arms tightening around her, the hand covering her mouth. Screaming inside. Fighting. Fighting fruitlessly in helpless terror. Then the prick of a needle in her arm. Then nothing.
The bastard had drugged her! And now he’d threatened to do it again unless she cooperated. She glared at him. Tears stung her eyes but she would not cry. Tears would show weakness. She had to be strong, keep her head, use her head.
He pulled on his sheepskin coat, settled the Stetson on his head, his gaze steady, impassive and honed in on her like radar, but calm. Too calm. A shiver raced through her. A man who’d just kidnapped Texas Senator James Marshall McCord’s daughter should be worried as all get-out. Only a crazy man wouldn’t be. A crazy man. Or a man who had nothing to lose. She stared at him, afraid he just might be both.
“Let’s go,” he said as he picked up her clothes and stuffed them into a backpack from behind his seat. He nudged her forward, his hand firmly on her shoulder. “Watch your step.”
She didn’t miss the warning in his words. But she had no intention of doing anything that would give him an excuse to drug her again. Drugged, she didn’t stand a chance.
At the open doorway she stopped to look out. Snow. It shone, silver-white against the dark of night; it covered the ground as far as she could see. Whoever had opened the door didn’t seem to be around anymore, but nearby a helicopter waited.
The cowboy took hold of her the moment they stepped onto the frozen ground and drew her toward the chopper, his hand clamped firmly around her upper arm, his body pressed against her side.
She looked around, hoping there would be other people, someone she could call to for help. But the airstrip was empty and a large white expanse of open field ran for a good mile in the direction of the lights of the town. The only building, the hangar, sat dark and empty.
As she neared the whirring blades of the helicopter, wind spun the fallen snow, showering her in white ice-cold powder. The door opened and she was pushed up into a seat behind the pilot. Her kidnapper slid in next to her, his thigh against hers in the tight confines of the chopper.
Before she could buckle up, the helicopter lifted off, spinning away into the night. She pressed herself to the side window, pulling away from him. All she could see below was the shine of the snow broken occasionally by the dark fringe of the evergreens and the rise and fall of mountains as the chopper skimmed low over them.
Without a word, he reached across to snap her seat belt closed, forcing her to touch him again.
His closeness assaulted her senses. But this time, his male scent evoked memories of the kidnapping, the same way his muscled thigh against her leg reminded her how easily he could overpower her. The images danced before her. Pouring rain. Darkness. His arms clamped around her and the helplessness she’d felt as he’d dragged her away from her car, away from her life.
She looked back. The lights of the town were gone. Slowly she turned to stare ahead again into the darkness, her heartbeat a deafening roar in her ears. Tears blurred her eyes as sobs rose in her throat, choking her. She’d been kidnapped. The ramifications had finally hit home. All her bravado, all her control, all her toughness deserted her. She was afraid, ice-in-the-veins afraid.
* * *
THEY WEREN’T IN THE AIR but a few minutes when the helicopter dropped low, hovered for a moment, then set down in a cloud of whirling snow.
“Ladies first,” her cowboy kidnapper said as he leaned over to open her door.
She glanced at the pilot, but immediately changed her mind about making a desperate attempt to gain his help. The man had to be in on this.
She reached down, her fingers fumbling with the seat belt buckle. Suddenly the cowboy’s hands covered hers and she felt the buckle release. No more stalling. This was it.
She slid out of the seat and down, tom between the fears that he planned to leave her out here alone and that he was coming with her. He stepped down beside her, grasping her arm again as he leaned over her, shielding her from the pounding ice crystals as the chopper lifted off.
Within moments the whir of its blades died away, as did the lights of the helicopter. She waited for the darkness to close in. But it didn’t. An almost full moon rose above the low-hanging clouds, illuminating them and casting an eerie light across the snow. In that strange light, she could see that they’d landed in a small, isolated meadow. Past it, she could see nothing but snow, pine trees and mountains. No sign of life. Except for the man beside her.
Her pulse drummed in her ears as she looked over at him, and she felt her first real sense of hysteria since she’d been abducted. She hadn’t been alone with this man in the jet. Or the helicopter. But now, in this isolated part of some backwoods, she was completely alone with her kidnapper. It hit her with such force, her knees threatened to give way beneath her. What did he plan to do with her now?
Next to her, he stood, his head cocked as if listening. Then his attention swung to her. “Come on.” He took her hand and she trudged in his wake, wading through the fallen snow, trying to keep up and, at the same time, see where she was going. The country looked wild and unsettled. She hated to imagine where he might be taking her.
Then he topped a small rise and she saw the cabin. It loomed up out of the darkness, a small A-frame, as picturesque as a ski lodge in the Swiss Alps.
He’d told her she’d find out everything at the cabin, but no lights shone from the windows, no smoke curled up from the chimney, nor did any tracks mar the snow. It didn’t look as if anyone were home. Had he lied to her just to get her up here without a fight? She doubted that as she followed him across the meadow. He’d also threatened to drug her again. She didn’t doubt he would have gotten her here one way or the other.
By the time Levi reached the front steps of the cabin, she just hoped it was warm and dry inside. She didn’t think past that, afraid to.
She followed the cowboy up the untracked snowy steps to the front deck. He seemed to hesitate at the door. She followed his gaze to a ramp off one end of the deck. It too was covered in fresh, unblemished snow.
She watched him frown as he looked back at the steps, as if he’d also noticed the lack of tracks and was bothered by it. Then he tried the door. It opened in his hand. She saw him reach inside and an instant later, a light came on. He quickly stepped in and pulled her in behind him.
The cabin was old-fashioned, quaint, although definitely male. She wondered if it was his, and hoped it was because the place made her believe that the man who lived here wasn’t dangerous.
He left her standing in the middle of the room. Not that he ever really let her out of his sight as he opened the doors to each of the rooms, seeming to look for something. Or someone.
The clock on the wall said it was only eight forty-five and yet she felt exhausted. Had it been less than five hours since her father had made a toast at their Thanksgiving dinner on the ranch?
She realized her kidnapper had stopped searching the rooms. He stood looking at her, frowning, his gaze obviously troubled.
“What is it?” she asked, her fear rising.
He shook his head, turned and began rummaging through drawers, pulling out items, which he thrust into his backpack. That relaxed Texas cowboy on the jet was gone; this man was anxious and on alert. She watched in alarm as he threw things into the backpack, including a pistol, then ushered
