Treacherous Mountain Investigation Read online

  She peeked one eye open then the other. Sunlight filtered through an evergreen canopy and danced on her face. Tree limbs swayed above her as a tiny rosy finch perched on a branch and chirped. It was peaceful, like the falsely serene opening of a horror movie. She twisted against her restraints and the bird flew away.

  Her hands were duct-taped over her chest in a funerary position. Sobs burst from her chest as her grip tightened on the curious bouquet taped within her clasped fingers. She kicked her feet. They were taped, as well.

  Swerving her head back and forth only skyrocketed the pinball circus in her brain. It was worth it to find herself alone. Her attacker was gone. Or at least out of sight. As far as she could tell, she was wedged between two massive boulders with the packed dirt of Barr Trail to her right.

  Be strong... She willed her pulse from its frenetic gallop, but the spicy scent of sagebrush wafted into her nostrils with every breath. And courageous... The bouquet had been artfully positioned in her empty canteen. Her heart slammed against her rib cage.

  Sagebrush. This wasn’t a coincidence. Why had she ever come back? Closure wasn’t worth this. A steady job wasn’t worth this.

  Lucas. What would he do if she didn’t make it back? His sweet smile flashed through her mind and dove down to spear her heart. Would he miss her, or would Kat slide in to take her place, giving him the life he should have?

  Liz closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. Control yourself. No more tears. She wouldn’t give whoever this was the satisfaction. Instead, she cried out to the only One who could help her.

  Do not be afraid—Something wet and warm slid up her cheek. Her whispered prayer ratcheted into full-blown screams and echoed off the rock-edged face of Pikes Peak.

  She swiveled her head to stare into two milk-chocolate irises. The tongue came at her again and a dappled mutt knocked her face with its wet, tan muzzle before sitting by her head, its floppy brown ears on guard.

  Panic crashed into giddy relief and tears pushed against her floodgates. If there was a dog, there would be an owner. Twisting to look behind her, she fought the pounding in her head and ran her tongue over her cracked lips, summoning every last ounce of energy. “Help!”

  Footsteps pounded down the trail and a figure appeared. He was hidden in shadowy bristlecone pine, but the dog perked and stood. His tan tail wagged. Gratitude washed through her veins like summer rain. Her guardian approved. “Thank You, Jesus.”

  The masculine figure stepped closer. Knelt beside her. Moved from shadow to light. “Jesus? You’re talking to Jesus now?”

  Liz pressed her heels into the hardened earth under her, certain the entirety of Pikes Peak had shifted. Shock clamped its hands over her mouth to silence her as Riggen Price leaned close. Had he been conjured by her silent cries?

  He pulled a pocketknife from his pants’ pocket and, with a flick of his wrist, had it open and slicing through her restraints. He shifted, moving to free her wrists. His skin, rough and real, brushed against her arm.

  It couldn’t be. This had to be an illusion induced by trauma. Like an oasis in a desert or some other cliché mind trick. She clamped her eyes shut. She must still be unconscious and dreaming. How else could the man she had spent five years trying to forget be peeling duct tape from her hands?

  The illusion’s movements stopped. And the only sounds were warbling birds and rustling trees. She forced one eye open. He was still there and her heart flip-flopped. Still Riggen. He hadn’t evaporated into the low-hanging clouds.

  Confusion and lingering fear swirled in her stomach until they hardened into hot anger. Anybody else, Lord. Anybody but Riggen Price.

  His gray eyes evaluated her, stormy and turbulent. Then he shoved his hand through his hair, mussing the hereditary white patch cowlick that swirled through his dark waves, and leaned forward. “I need to check you for injuries.”

  She swallowed a mouthful of sandpaper, unable to spit out the million questions bombarding her. Why did he disappear? Where had he been? What right did he have to look at her with concern flooding his eyes?

  Instead she nodded, letting the breeze fill the silence between them.

  Tension radiated from Riggen’s body as he pulled a Kleenex package from his pocket and snapped a tissue open. He used it to remove the canteen bouquet from her chest. He studied it, storm turning to steel, wrapped another tissue around it and shoved it in his backpack. “Evidence,” he murmured.

  Before Liz could move, his hands were back, gliding with expert precision over her head, neck and shoulders. He probed her arms and legs with gentle fingers and her skin pebbled under his touch. When he was finished, he held out his hand in the electrified space between them. She watched as her own hand rebelled to bridge the gap.

  He helped her up. “Are you okay?”

  “As okay as I can be.” Her words nudged past the lump in her throat.

  He nodded. “Let’s get you to the station. Take your statement.” The muscles in his jaw tightened. “Whoever did this will pay.”

  The mutt pushed between them and broke their handclasp, nudging into Riggen’s thigh. Riggen stepped back and a sigh surged from him as if from a closed-off cauldron of boiling chaos. He dug in his pocket and pulled something out. Her phone.

  Glacial ice seeped through each limb and Liz prepared her shredded heart for another slice of betrayal. He clicked the power button. Lucas’s dimpled face flashed on the broken screen.

  “When we’re done at the station, we need to talk about this.”

  TWO

  The sight of her phone sent Liz swaying toward him like sagebrush in the breeze. She reached for it, her cold fingers scraped against the tender skin of his palm. Riggen released her phone, the image already seared into his soul.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. A knot of stress was building by the nanosecond. That phone created questions he never knew needed asking. The how and what and why nearly smothered him, but now wasn’t the time.

  He stepped away, snapping himself back to reality as his heel hit Barr Trail. Liz shoved her phone into her black cargo shorts and brushed the dirt from her legs. When she looked up, he motioned for her to stay still. He’d seen no sign of her attacker, but they weren’t in the clear. He surveyed the path in both directions.

  It was quiet, but that only meant their enemy was patient. Squirrels darted down the trunk of a spruce and bounded across the split-rail fence before leaping into their path. Riggen caressed the reassuring weight of his Glock where it was situated snugly below his right arm. Out in the open, they’d be vulnerable. But if they stayed here, her attacker would know exactly where to return.

  He lowered his palm and turned his hand over, beckoning her forward. They were safer on the move.

  She froze. Why should I trust you? Her unspoken question couldn’t have been more blatant if she’d rented a skywriter and emblazoned it over Pikes Peak.

  He let his hand fall. Her earlier acquiescence must have just been a reaction to shock because now an almost visible shell of self-protection enshrouded her. He got the message. She’d let him through once. She wasn’t about to let it happen again. He jerked his head down Barr. “We need to move.”

  The only indication she’d heard him was the tightening of her jaw. She looked down the switchbacked trail. Masses of golden-brown waves spilled over her shoulders as she shook her head, then flinched. The action must have been torturous after an attack like that.

  His fingers itched at the sight of her. Distressed. Disheveled. Disheartened. He wanted to pull her close. He took a step farther away and shoved his hands into the fur on Yakub’s back. “I get it. You don’t trust me.”

  She made a sound that landed somewhere between a sob and a snort. Yakub left Riggen’s side and trotted to Liz, nuzzling his snout into her hand. Her stance softened as Yakub flopped his head and threw her hand upward.

  Reluctant acceptance
showed in the purse of her lips and the way she scratched Yakub’s head. She turned her face to him, eyes dull. “I suppose I don’t have a choice.”

  Riggen puffed out his chest and wiggled an eyebrow at the mountain face behind her. “You could say you’re between a rock and a hard place.”

  Her snort was unmistakable that time.

  Smiling, he tried again. This time Liz placed her hand in his. He wasn’t prepared for how the touch of her hand sucked the breath from his body. “Help’s on the Incline and coming up Barr.” He eyed the trees and ground cover around them. “We’ll catch this guy. But I’ll breathe easier when we get to safety.”

  She nodded and intertwined her fingers with his. He pulled them into motion. Their feet thudded the earth in unison. Gravel knocked loose as they moved down the trail. Riggen scanned right to left and then right again, looking for anything out of place. Movement. Disturbed wildlife. Sunlight reflecting off a scope.

  He caught the faint sound of a chopper as it cut through the air. Liz halted, pulling him back. She dug her heels into the middle of the path and shielded her eyes, searching the sky. She was a sitting duck. He tugged her to the side of the trail.

  She shook him off and speared him with hazel darts. “Why are you even here?”

  Shake him off or not, he wasn’t letting her play the part in some sicko’s target practice. Dragging his ex-fiancée behind a bush, he peered down the trail. Nothing seemed out of place. Except this conversation.

  “I run the Incline every morning.” He sidestepped a weathered log and extended a hand to help her over it. “Let’s keep moving.”

  Liz studied his palm as if hoping a better answer were written there. Then she shoved his arm aside and climbed over the log. “I don’t need your help.” Yakub nosed his way between them and Liz followed the dog back toward the trail. “Besides, that’s not what I meant.”

  Riggen jogged to keep up and hopped in front of her, blocking her angry barrel back into danger. Of course she didn’t need his help. He’d never known any woman more independent. She collided with him and his arms surrounded her. Stilled her. Twigs stuck from her hair in every direction and her soft lips were downturned, begging to be righted.

  He dragged his eyes away from her face. Dangerous attacker loose on Pikes Peak? Not the time to explore the implosion of their relationship—or wonder if those lips were still as soft as he remembered. This emotional detour had them off the trail and nestled behind bushes. Two feet more and they’d be back on track.

  He scoured the trees lining their descent. The hair on his arms prickled. Something didn’t feel right. Liz shifted, pulling away. Regret sliced through him, but he gulped it back. He wasn’t meant to hold her safe against him. He’d do best to remember that. Shaking his head to clear the fuzz, he concentrated on the tree line.

  Flashes of light blinked downslope. His subconscious pinged. He twirled to shove Liz to the ground, shielding her with his body as the shrub they’d been standing in front of exploded. Ear-shattering howls filled the air. Yakub climbed onto Riggen’s back and covered them both.

  The familiar mix of thrill and terror powered through his veins. As a second eruption shattered the dead log they’d stepped over moments earlier, soft pine needles under them melted into mortar-damaged sidewalks. He scrubbed images of Iraq from his eyes.

  “What was that?” Liz’s scream blistered his ear and jerked him back to reality. Pushing Yakub off, Riggen rolled Liz, body over body, until they were sheltered behind a jagged outcropping of granite. He clamped his hand over her mouth and whistled for Yakub. The dog belly-crawled to them.

  They were stuck. The trail was too exposed. He tugged his cell from his pocket with his free hand and dialed.

  Scooping Liz against the wall of granite, he held a finger to his lips. Her eyes threatened to engulf her face, her pupils dilated to the size of nickels. He whispered into her ear, “Stay down and be quiet.”

  She nodded before she scooted farther away from him and buried her head in Yakub’s coat.

  Riggen cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could unsnap his holster and slide out his Glock. “We’re taking fire halfway down Barr.”

  “Hold tight. I’m on the Incline.” Carr’s response filtered over the line. “Rosche and Jones are on Barr.”

  Static from the lieutenant’s radio bounced across the line along with his directions to Detective Rosche. “Suspect headed your way.”

  More static. Then Rosche’s voice. “Closing in.”

  Riggen applied pressure to Liz’s shoulder. When she looked up, he motioned for her to stay put. She nodded. He army-crawled to the edge of the outcropping and peered around the corner. Nothing but pines and blue sky. Twigs broke as something crashed away from them and rushed down the path.

  He zeroed in on the area. Without a visual, it was too risky to shoot, and he wasn’t about to take the chance of walking Liz back into the path of danger.

  Whoever it was seemed headed straight toward Rosche and Jones, and they’d be ready.

  He wiggled back to Liz and settled in next to her. Adrenaline churned through his veins while Liz’s frantic breaths bounced off the granite behind them. He slung an arm across her shoulder and pulled her close.

  “He’s on the run. We’ll stay here until the all-clear.”

  She stroked Yakub’s coat over and over in the silence, her hands shaking. Her ring finger was naked. His engagement ring was missing. Of course it was. Her fiancé had disappeared, why keep the reminder?

  He gritted his teeth. He’d done the right thing. He couldn’t have come home to her, not after the damage he’d caused.

  Life didn’t hand people like him happily-ever-afters. Now all he could do was protect Liz. And that included protecting her from him.

  Shoving the fresh wave of guilt and regret inside his strongbox, he gently chucked her chin with his fist. Her hands stilled in Yakub’s fur as he leaned close. “Don’t worry. You’re safe.”

  She ducked from his touch and wiped away a tear. Her eyes were full of fire. “With you is the least safe place I can think of.”

  * * *

  Riggen’s dog jumped onto the ambulance gurney and turned once before settling onto Liz’s feet. Apparently near-death experiences made for fast friendships. Tucking her toes farther under his warm belly, Liz stared through the open doors as a baby-faced paramedic pushed a blood pressure sleeve onto her bruised bicep.

  The paramedic was talking but his words dropped to the floor. All she could concentrate on was Riggen, who was having it out at the base of Barr Trail with the gorgeous Detective Rosche, who had just shoved their attacker into the back of a Manitou Springs Police Department SUV.

  The detective didn’t look happy. She also didn’t look bad in the police-issued polo and form-fitting cargo pants. Liz squelched the thought. Riggen had abandoned her. It was over. Done with. Whoever this woman was to him, this sudden surge of jealousy was as misplaced as a dolphin on a mountaintop.

  Even if the detective did possess ridiculous superpowers, like taking down would-be assassins without mussing a single strand of her blazing red ponytail.

  Liz growled and the dog raised furry eyebrows at her. “It’s okay, boy.” She patted his head before pulling the tenth twig from her own tangled mane.

  A crowd was gathering—reporters rubbernecking to see inside the ambulance. Liz melted back into the gurney. It wouldn’t do for her potential employer to see this story on the five o’clock news. She had one chance to prove she could handle the big leagues. With just two days until the Rocky Mountain Travel and Adventure Expo, she couldn’t let today derail her chance at landing the job.

  The paramedic freed her arm from the sleeve. “One twenty over eighty. Pretty impressive.”

  She cut a glance at him, still straining to hear Riggen’s conversation. “Thanks.”

  Snatches fl
oated through the open doors.

  “...you should’ve waited for backup. You probably just sacked your chance for the promotion.” The red ponytail flopped as Riggen’s sparring partner flung a look at the ambulance.

  Riggen’s answer was swallowed up as the paramedic held out his hand. “Hey, I’m Devon.”

  Liz exhaled through pursed lips before turning to Devon and flashing a smile. “I’m a single mom with a four-year-old son.”

  Color lit Devon’s smooth cheeks. He pushed away from the gurney and grabbed a small white device. “Let’s get those oxygen levels checked.” He stuck the monitor on her finger.

  Typical. Flustered at the hint of responsibility. She’d been down that road. Throw a kid in the mix and men’s interest disappeared like snow in July.

  A vision of her dad’s disappearing Buick as he’d left her and Kat with Child Protective Services played against the open ambulance doors. She swatted the memory away like an annoying mosquito and refocused on Riggen. Their eyes locked. Something sparked between them before his shutters were drawn.

  Liz slipped her free hand into her pocket. He’d said he wanted to talk. He’d even looked like he’d meant it. But the note she’d never been able to throw away pretty much promised he’d disappear no matter how the conversation went.

  The monitor beeped and Devon removed it. “Oxygen looks great.”

  With her focus on Rosche, Liz barely heard him, watching as the detective scribbled something in her notebook then glanced in her direction before starting toward the ambulance. Liz stiffened.

  “I have questions for her.” The command in the woman’s voice was unmistakable.

  Riggen blocked her. “It will wait until we get back to the office.”

  “She needs to answer while her memory is sharp.” Rosche pushed forward, obviously nonplussed at the six-foot wall of muscle.

  But she stopped when Riggen placed a hand on her arm. Unspoken words flew between them. The redhead nodded and backed down.