had he changed the plan? It was so unlike him.
Seth scanned the landscape around the A-frame, seeing nothing but trees and snow. Fool. He should be in that cabin right now with a fire roaring, a mug of hot coffee and—
The A-frame exploded right before his eyes. The flash blinded him as the cabin turned into a fireball. A few seconds later, the blast echoed in his ears. He stared, dumbfounded, struck by that sense of déjà vu. And doom.
First, the change of plans. Now, this. He stared at the burning cabin, then turned to the woman on the cot, and a jolt of something stronger and much more potent than adrenaline raced through him. Cold, hard fear. Who the hell was this woman?
“Who are you?”
Levi awoke with a start, amazed she’d actually fallen asleep. Probably the side effects of that drug he’d given her earlier. The sound of an explosion rang in her ears, but only the smell of smoke made her believe she hadn’t dreamed it.
Before she could move, she looked up to find the cowboy standing over her, yelling down at her, his words making no sense. What had blown up?
“Who are you?” he asked again.
She sat up, pulled the scratchy wool blanket to her and gazed up at him, afraid. “What?” was all she got out before he jerked her to her feet.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded as he ripped off the blanket and threw it onto the cot.
“You know who I am,” she cried, staring at him as if he were a madman as well as a kidnapper.
“Tell me your name,” he demanded from between clenched teeth.
“Levi.”
He frowned. “Levi? Levi who?”
She couldn’t understand what it was he wanted from her or why he was so upset. “McCord. Levi McCord.”
He released her as if she were a live wire. “McCord? Levi McCord? Not—” He stared at her. “Tell me you’re not related to Senator McCord.”
Was this some sort of trick? “He’s my father.”
He swore loudly, raked a hand through his hair, then looked at her again as if he’d never seen her before. “You’re James Marshall McCord’s daughter.”
“Olivia McCord,” she said almost indignantly. “Levi’s a nickname.” She frowned as a thought buzzed past like a bullet. “But you had to know that when you kidnapped me. Why else ” She stopped, even more confused. -
He let out a harsh laugh and looked up at the ceiling, still shaking his head. He was a madman. Or he really hadn’t known who she was. Or both. He swung his gaze back to her and cursed, his eyes dark and disturbed.
She came fully awake with an anger of her own. “Who are you?” she demanded. Her head had cleared some from the short, fitful, exhausted sleep and the rude awakening and the drug he’d given her earlier. “You kidnapped me and you didn’t even know who I was?” What kind of sense did that make? She was even more angry than she had been. The anger felt so much better than the fear. “Talk to me, damn you.”
“Not now,” he growled as he thrust the flashlight into the backpack and pulled the drawstring closed, his movements hurried, anxious. “We have to get out of here.”
He stepped to the door, opened it and stood silhouetted against the snowfall, waiting impatiently for her.
She moved as if sleepwalking to the window opening in the wall and looked out. Below her in the clearing, what was left of the A-frame burned bright in the night. Her heart thudded at the ramifications. They could have been in that cabin!
“Come on,” he ordered when she didn’t move toward him. “Trust me, now isn’t the time to give me trouble.”
She turned to look at him, feeling the effects of adrenaline and exhaustion, anger and fear. She didn’t move, just stared at him, determined not to take another step until she had an explanation. “Tell me. Now.”
He shook his head in obvious frustration. “Let me put it to you simply. Somebody firebombed the cabin because they thought we were inside it. I don’t know how close they are or if they’ve already found our tracks and are headed up this mountain right now, but I think they’re probably not going to give up until they kill us. How’s that?”
She swallowed hard. “Why would someone want to kill us?”
“You tell me.”
He was blaming her for this?
“But I’m not staying here to find out,” he said before she could respond. “Now get your butt out that door or I’ll drag you. Believe me, you won’t slow me down that much. At least not for long.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. The moment she moved toward him, he grabbed her and propelled her through the open doorway. It was still dark outside, except for the fiery glow where the A-frame had been.
The air felt colder. Or maybe it was just the cold inside her as he pulled her through the pines, his grip strong and firm and unrelenting. She had to run to keep up with his long stride. They dropped down the other side of the mountain, away from the smell of charred wood.
She felt dazed. Who had blown up the A-frame? Why had the man now dragging her off this mountain kidnapped her without even knowing who she was? It made no sense. Nothing made any sense. But if he meant her real harm, wouldn’t he have just killed her and left her behind at the shack? Or...was she worth more to him alive?
The air suddenly turned white and wet with fog. He kept moving. The mist wove through the snowladen pines, growing denser and denser until she couldn’t see but a few feet in front of her. He slowed a little, not much.
Then she heard it. The sound of water lapping softly. Moments later, they stumbled on the bank of what appeared to be a wide creek. On the snowy edge, he finally stopped and she leaned over, her hands on her knees, to catch her breath.
Without warning, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, reminding her again how strong he was as he waded into the icy water.
She started to protest, but he stopped her with a low warning growl. Common sense told her this was not the time.
He headed upstream into the fog, his hand resting on her rump as she bounced along on his shoulder. She thought she heard a helicopter. He must have, too, because he stopped for a moment to listen, then continued upstream.
Finally he put her down on the opposite bank and climbed out beside her. She watched him through a film of fog as he went to a spot along the bank and pulled branches back from a canoe.
The movement came out of the smudged darkness of the pines off to her right. She saw it from the corner of her eye, but didn’t get a sound out before the movement became a man. He seemed a part of the fog, a blur of white clothing and mask, until she saw a rifle in his gloved hands. She didn’t have time to think, let alone react. Unlike her kidnapper. He turned, sensing danger. Just as the attacker
