her head, and to her groin.
And then he was standing.
“I suggest you spend the night considering other things you could do with your life,” he said softly, firelight glowing on his skin.
“Because you’ve been so damn successful with yours?”
“Touché.” With a few backward steps he was at the door. He switched on a table lamp. “Do you want me to turn on the radio or the TV?”
“I want you to come over here and untie me, that’s what I want,” she said, struggling against the ropes.
“No can do,” he said, grabbing the rifle again. He opened the door and stepped out into the gathering dark. The door closed quietly behind him.
Watching his retreating form through the big window, she screamed his name as he disappeared into the snow.
Chapter Three
Why hadn’t Shelby Parker called the sheriff? Why wasn’t the place surrounded by floodlights and barking dogs and a SWAT team?
Thirty minutes of struggling accomplished nothing but rope burns. After forty-five minutes, not only had night stolen over the hillside and flooded the house with shadows but Annie’s wrists had finally slipped free of the ropes.
She quickly untied her ankles and, standing, began walking around the room trying to get the feeling back in her feet.
Despite the cold, dark night and the possibility of wildlife, she planned to walk down to the main road and hitch a ride to the sheriff’s station, where she would tell anyone who would listen about Garrett Skye. They could put out an APB. He’d be in jail by morning. He could try sweet-talking the deputies. Try kissing one of them. See how far it got him.
And then she was going to call Shelby Parker and demand the rest of her father’s money. After all, Skye’s location had been verified. It wasn’t her fault he got away.
Okay, it was her fault.
After that, she was going back to her quiet life and the little kids and polite parents who made up ninety-nine percent of the people she came into contact with. And judging from the flood of sexual energy Garrett Skye’s kiss had provoked, it was also time to find a new boyfriend.
Trouble was, she wasn’t good with men. Two boyfriends before, she’d had a fling with a divorced man who, as it turned out, wasn’t actually divorced, a revelation that had left her spoiled for men for a good year. The last boyfriend had had a gambling addiction he hid very well until Annie discovered him using her ATM card without permission.
And now an attraction to a felon. What was wrong with her?
What she needed to find was a nice man, not a dangerous one. Not a man who blew up women, not a man whose destiny seemed to be on a collision course with a life sentence in Nevada State Prison.
After a fruitless search for something sugary to eat, she settled on cold leftover spaghetti and meatballs out of Skye’s refrigerator. Then she searched the cabin for a warm coat. Hers was outside and covered with glass. As a bonus, she also found insulated gloves that almost fit. She took another big knife out of the kitchen drawer. Maybe there were coyotes out there. Maybe even more dangerous beasts roamed the hillside, the two-legged variety.
One more search to find a flashlight and new batteries, strap her small purse across her chest under her coat and she was ready to go. She opened the door. Cold wind slapped her in the face. Looking out at the two inches of new snow covering the rocky, unpredictable hillside and her determination drained. Her flashlight and warm coat were no match for that miserable driveway. She’d have to think of something else.
The horse. She’d take Scio. This time she’d have time to saddle him properly and talk to him in a soothing voice. He wouldn’t be afraid of her this time.
It had stopped snowing but only the faintest of moonlight made its way through the heavy cloud cover. Picking her way carefully, she made her way to the barn.
Scio wasn’t in his stall. He wasn’t in any of the stalls. Apparently, Garrett had taken him, which meant he wasn’t going to call someone to come get the horse. What if she hadn’t been able to get out of the ropes? How long would she have had to stay tied to that chair before someone came looking for her?
Another thought, even more uncomfortable. Why did it come as a surprise that Garrett Skye was untrustworthy? What in the world had she expected from a man like him?
She’d barely had a moment to consider her next move when she heard the sound of a motor. She ran to the barn door in time to see headlights sweep the tops of the trees.
At last! Shelby Parker must have finally retrieved her voice mail and called the sheriff. A car stopped on the other side of the wrecked vehicles still plugging the top of the driveway. Though giddy with relief, Annie waited for a moment to see who emerged from around the wreck. She wasn’t about to get herself into another out-of-the-frying-pan-into-the-fire scenario.
Car doors closed. The silhouette of two men backlit by headlights circled the wreck and met again on Annie’s side. She lifted a foot to step outside the barn.
And then one of them spoke. It wasn’t his words that halted her forward progress, it was the hushed, guttural sound of his voice.
“Looks like Skye had an accident.”
“Maybe he already bought the farm.”
A flashlight briefly flicked over the wreckage and then went out. “I don’t see a body, but the car has Nevada plates. I wonder where Ryder’s daughter is?”
“She’s no match for Skye,” the other said. “By now she’s probably dead and buried under a bush.”
Both of them chuckled.
Annie’s feet froze to the ground. Their chuckles were dry and sarcastic and cut through her like a polar wind. Plus, they knew about her. That meant they knew Shelby Parker, as Annie had told no one else she was coming here. But why weren’t they also looking for her dad? She’d tried to make her message sound like he was with her.
“Go around back, I’ll take the front,” one of the men said. “Remember, don’t shoot to kill, we want Skye alive.”
“What if the girl shows up?”
“If she gets in the way—”
Annie’s feet did an instant thaw as she shrank back inside the barn. Those men were not with the sheriff’s department. What in the world was going on?
She watched from her hidden position as one man slunk past her, stray shafts of moonlight clearly revealing the gun held down by his leg. Unsure what to do next, she all but stopped breathing.
Should she risk leaving the barn?
She couldn’t bring herself to step out into the open so she moved farther into the barn instead. All bravado abandoned her. What she wanted to do was find a dark corner and hunker down like a scared child. She should try to make a run for it. But the night sky was fickle, overcast one minute, moonlit the next. She kept seeing that gun and could almost feel the
