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Chapter One The small, filthy window beside the locked door allowed a glimpse of fading sunlight. It was the seventh day of her captivity. Nicole Carlisle lay curled up on a bare mattress in the root cellar, staring at the shred of light and shivering in the cold winter air that seeped through the concrete walls. Soon it would snow. They’d have a white Christmas at the ranch. A sob wrenched through her. The holidays were supposed to be about hope and love. All she had was despair. Her wrists were fastened in front of her with padded handcuffs that weren’t supposed to leave marks. But she’d struggled against the restraints until her forearms were black and blue. That pain blended with many others. Her head throbbed. Her joints were stiff. Though her legs were unfettered, a length of steel chain fastened with a lock around her waist kept her tethered to an open beam in the ceiling. She could move from the stained, disgusting mattress to the plastic bucket she used as a toilet to the gall
Chapter One
Chapter Two When her husband escorted her across the threshold of their upstairs bedroom at the ranch house, a strong sense of familiarity overwhelmed Nicole. Surrounded by memories, she truly felt that she was home. And safe. Every detail—from the green-sprigged wallpaper to the sandy wall-to-wall carpet—matched her personal taste. She’d selected the dark oak furniture. The cream-colored duvet and the pillows plumped up against the headboard promised a comfortable sleep. Her gaze caught on the framed family photos displayed above the dresser, and she reached toward their wedding picture. In his tuxedo with his black hair combed, Dylan was tall, dashing and gallant. Standing beside him, she looked tiny in her lacy white gown. Though she’d been wearing three-inch heels to enhance her five-foot-two inch height, the top of her head still didn’t reach higher than his chin. “Our wedding. I was so happy.” Dylan smiled. “Best day of my life.” Her hand touching the photo was filthy. So much ha
Chapter Two
Chapter Three Moments ago Nicole had wakened from a nightmare, sitting up on her bed. Her neck arched. Her mouth stretched open, wide-open, as if to scream in terror. Only a tiny moan escaped. No one can hear me. She knew that wasn’t true. She was free. And yet her eyes darted wildly. The room was hazy. The wallpaper faded into concrete walls. She looked down at her hands. Though she wasn’t bound, she couldn’t pull her wrists apart. Invisible handcuffs held her. “No,” she whispered. She was at home in her own soft, comfortable bed. She was warm, clean and safe. Alone. No one can see me. Concentrating, she struggled to control the rapid beating of her heart. She forced her wrists to separate. With one arm on each side of her body, she lay back on the pillows. Her body went stiff. Frozen, she waited for the panic to subside. Her stomach churned. She bolted from the bed, raced to the bathroom and vomited. Her eyes avoided the mirror as she rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth. Coward! S
Chapter Three
Chapter Four As soon as she and Dylan returned to the bedroom, Nicole’s self-control began to crumble. She’d managed to tell the story of her kidnapping in broad strokes, leaving out the humiliating details. How could she ever speak of those things? The filth. Her screams into empty darkness. Her gnawing hunger. It was better to bury those horrors under layers of silence, not telling even Dylan. Especially not Dylan. When he looked at her, she didn’t want him to see a victim—a helpless, terrified creature. She sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded in her lap, hating the unassuaged fear that roiled inside her. Desperately she longed to forget the kidnapping, to erase every scrap of it from her memory. Dylan sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her, cradling her with unusual tenderness, as if afraid that she’d shatter if he held her too tightly. Leaning her cheek against his chest, she whispered, “I don’t want to fall asleep.” “Nightmares?” “If I let my defenses down, I remember
Chapter Four
Chapter Five In the kitchen, Nicole sat at the table with Carolyn and Andrea. They’d convinced her to eat a piece of toast, and they all had mugs of steaming chamomile tea before them. “How did Dylan take it?” Nicole asked. “While I was kidnapped “He was a complete wreck,” Carolyn said. “That first night, he and his men went riding all over the countryside looking for you, riling up the neighbors. When he got back here, he refused to go to bed even though he was asleep on his feet.” “Stubborn,” Nicole said. “That’s my husband.” “It was more than that.” Carolyn looked down into her tea. “I haven’t seen my brother cry since he was ten years old, and we had to put down one of his best horses. During the past few days, I’ve seen tears.” At least he loved her as much as a favorite horse. She thought of their five years together. A tear had slipped down his cheek when he’d spoken his wedding vows. As it had the first time she’d told him that she loved him. Touching moments. But he never show
Chapter Five
Chapter Six As Nicole sat at the kitchen table, chatting with Carolyn and her mother, a warm sense of drowsiness wrapped around her like a down comforter. They gossiped and talked about homey topics: baking Christmas cookies, shopping for presents, getting started on the decorations for the ranch house. Christmas had always been Nicole’s favorite time of year. She loved making wreaths and tromping through the forest to find the perfect-shaped tree. She hoped there would be a blanket of pure-white snow for Christmas morning. Eyelids drooping, she gazed down at her hands folded in her lap. The black-and-blue marks circling her wrists reminded her of the kidnapping, and she tugged down her sleeves to cover the bruises. It was better to focus on how good it was to be home, to put those terrible memories out of her mind. Tomorrow would be a brand-new day. She’d wake up in her warm bed beside her husband—a man with whom she had a great deal in common. For breakfast, there would be bacon and
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven The next morning, Dylan tried to get back into his normal routine. After making sure Nicole was okay, he showered, dressed, went downstairs, got coffee and went to his office. His intention was to dig into the stack of unopened mail and deal with an e-mail in-box that was stuffed like a Christmas turkey. For a full week, the running of the ranch had been on autopilot. Now, there was work to be done. Invoices to be signed. Schedules to be reassigned. Back to normal. That was what he wanted. His instinct to stay through the night with Nicole—in spite of her objection—had been a good one. She’d wakened twice. The first time, she’d been breathing hard, gasping. Both her hands drew into fists that she held to her mouth. When he came near the bed, she’d slapped at him. In a hard voice, she’d told him to get away from her and had let loose a string of graphic profanity—words he’d never heard from his sweet, gentle wife. Dylan had known better than to take her insults personally;
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight After bidding the sheriff goodbye, Nicole directed the deliverymen to place the roses on the table in the dining room. A massive display, the flowers were absolutely gorgeous with their long stems, green leaves and sprigs of baby’s breath. In the early years of their marriage, Dylan had often surprised Nicole with a bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked along the trail. The spontaneous gesture had delighted her. It had showed that he was thinking of her. He’d taken the trouble to dismount and gather brightly colored posies. Roses from the florist weren’t the same. Anybody could pick up a phone and make a call. With a sigh, she plucked one long-stemmed rose from the vase. This rich crimson would fit nicely into her plans for Christmas decorations, though she doubted her husband had considered the color from a decorating standpoint. He stood close behind her. “Do you like them?” “Of course.” He was trying, and she had to give him points for the effort. “Really, Dylan. They’re
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine After half an hour’s conversation, Nicole’s mouth was dry and her palms sweaty. She’d related the chronology of her time in captivity with a few more details than she’d told to the others, including the heart-pounding panic when Nate sealed her mouth with duct tape. When she talked about it, a gag reflex tightened her throat. She sat back in her chair. “Well, Sarah? What’s your diagnosis?” “It wouldn’t be going out on a limb to say that you’ve been traumatized. Do you agree?” “Yes.” As a vet, Nicole didn’t have the luxury of talking to her patients. She couldn’t look a bawling steer in the eye and ask where it hurt. The only way to understand was poking and prodding. That sort of guesswork wouldn’t be necessary for her own treatment. “How do I get better?” “You’ve already taken the first step by acknowledging your trauma. Tell me about your physical symptoms.” “Upset stomach. I’ve vomited twice. I’m tense and irritable. Having trouble sleeping.” “Falling asleep?” Nicole th
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten Before she’d been kidnapped, Nicole hadn’t considered brushing her teeth to be a luxury. Going without a toothbrush for a week changed her mind. She brushed and rinsed and brushed again. The inside of her mouth tasted clean. Minty. Wonderful. She bared her teeth and stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her face looked tired, pale and a bit feral, like a rabid squirrel. Am I getting better? Today should have been a time of good cheer, filled with friends, family and Christmas spirit. She’d made an effort to join the party. Singing carols. Drinking spiced cider. Lighting Christmas candles. Everyone had complimented her on her quick recovery from a terrible situation. They’d told her she looked good. They were happy for her. But her fixed smile masked an underlying fear. Her laughter stifled an urge to scream. On the counter beside the sink was the cell phone Dylan had given her. He’d thoughtfully programmed her most frequently called phone numbers with his cell li
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven The next morning Dylan was up early again, taking care of business, pacing back and forth from his office to the kitchen. He’d spent much of last night watching his wife sleep restlessly—not touching her, except to rearrange the comforter and soothe away the nightmares. He wanted more. A lot more. His desire for her had built to an almost painful level. If this went on much longer, he’d be driven into a drooling, primitive state of pure lust. Dylan the Caveman. He’d club his woman over the head, drag her off and make sweet love. When he heard Nicole come down the stairs, he grabbed two mugs of coffee and whisked her into his office, where he closed the door. He wasted no time with explanations. “We need to leave the ranch.” Coolly, she raised her coffee mug to her lips and gazed at him over the brim. “Did I miss something? Is the building on fire?” “The sheriff says we won’t to be able to avoid the press if we stay here. Jesse says we aren’t safe.” He shuffled his feet,
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve Dylan strode the last few paces toward his wife. What the hell was she thinking? Leaving the house to go out onto the porch would have been dangerous enough. But here? Standing in the snow with nothing to protect her, she was easy prey. He looked toward the trees, half expecting to see the gleam of sunlight on gunmetal. His hand slapped his hip, reaching for a holster that wasn’t there. The whole time she’d been missing, he’d been armed. But not today. Not when he might really need his weapon. As he approached, she sank to her knees, breathing hard. Though she waved him off, it seemed like a struggle for her to stagger to her feet. She faced him. “I’m sorry, Dylan.” “Did you forget what happened the last time you went running off by yourself?” “Of course not.” Her voice was firm, but she wavered on her feet. “How did you find me?” He pointed to the snow behind him. “You left a trail a blind man could follow.” “So I did. I guess…” Her voice trailed off. Her knees sagged.
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen Dylan had no idea why Nicole had gone from obstinate to cooperative in the blink of an eye. Instead of fighting him about the trip to Glenwood, she’d added her own spin to their getaway plan. They’d tell the reporters and everybody else who didn’t know that Nicole was sick in bed—unable to leave the house, see anyone or give any sort of statement. Carolyn didn’t agree. Her irritation was obvious as she leaned against the closed door of their bedroom, watching while they packed. “That story doesn’t make any sense.” “I like it,” Nicole said as she held up a sleek blue bathing suit. “I wonder if this still fits. I’ve lost some weight.” “Buy a new one when you get there,” Carolyn said. “Telling people I’m sick solves all kinds of problems,” Nicole said. “Nobody will be searching for us. Dylan and I won’t have to be looking over our shoulders.” “It won’t work,” Carolyn grumbled. Dylan knew his control-freak sister well enough to understand that her real problem was that she
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen Her usually reticent cowboy husband was so friendly and upbeat that Nicole was beginning to think he should always be disguised as Johnny Hellman. The frequent butt-patting and cleavage-ogling was a bit annoying, but otherwise Dylan was adorable. While picking up the key to the condo from the downstairs manager, he’d made jokes and chatted. The three-story rectangular building had only nine units—three on each floor—and was perched on the hillside above the lodge. The wood siding and gingerbread trim on the balconies and along the eaves harkened back to the pseudo-Victorian design that was popular in many of the mountain towns, but these condos were far more modern. Though only three floors, the building had a huge elevator—big enough for several skiers and their equipment. Dylan paused outside their room after fitting the key into the lock. He leered at her through his black-framed glasses. “What?” she asked. “Is there something I should—” He pushed open the door, tur
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen Nicole nestled against Dylan’s chest, and the steamy water of the mineral-springs pool caressed them both. The heat seeped into her muscles, soothing her aches and pains. Her bruised body was healing far more easily than her mind. She had to let these terrible memories go. The longer she kept them bottled inside, the more they festered. The only way to release the pressure was to cut it open, like lancing a boil. And she knew it was going to hurt. What she didn’t know was how her husband would react. Would he hate her for being weak? With a sigh, she started speaking. “After I met you in the forest and told you…You remember what I told you.” “You hated my guts, wanted a divorce, blah, blah, blah.” He gave her a little squeeze. “I never should have believed you.” “It’s a good thing you did. If you’d made a wrong move, we both would have been shot.” “Are you saying I did the right thing?” His breath whispered in her ear, sending a sensual message that she longed to respon
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen Nicole melted into his embrace. Right now, she didn’t need sensitivity or analysis. She needed to be loved, and love was what her husband gave her. Steadfast and solid as a hill of boulders, he loved her. In spite of deception and fear, he still loved her. “You’re the best,” she whispered. He fitted her more closely against him. “About time you figured that out.” When she tilted back in his arms and gazed up at him, he started to trail kisses across her forehead. Then down to the tip of her nose. To her lips, where he lingered. Then he kissed along the line of her throat and lower, past her collarbone. When he reached the first button of her pajamas, he deftly unfastened it and nuzzled between her breasts. Another button unhooked. And another. A familiar warm thrill spread across her skin, and she felt herself beginning to blush. Unlike her, he was fully dressed, except for his socks and cowboy boots. It didn’t seem fair. Her fingers latched on to his belt buckle. She p
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen Nicole tried to reach Nate again half an hour later. Then every fifteen minutes for an hour after that. Her nervousness about talking to him was replaced by a different brand of panic. Fear of the unknown. “What’s he doing?” She paced in front of the dining table in the condo. “He’s out there.” She jabbed emphatically toward the sliding-glass doors. “Out there. Somewhere. Wearing his black ski mask. Hiding in the shadows.” Dylan sat on the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his hands folded behind his head. His posture was typically laid-back. He appeared to be completely unperturbed and cool. He seldom showed emotion. Never let anyone see him sweat. His attitude drove her crazy. “Dylan!” “Yeah?” His lips barely moved when he talked. “What is it, sweetpea?” This situation was shaping up to be a typical argument where she was hopping mad, literally shuffling from one foot to another, pacing and frantic. And he just sat there, as still and silent as a
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen “That old son of a bitch is dead, and he’s still causing me problems.” “Lucas was like family.” Nicole threw a couple more items in her suitcase and closed it. She had no intention of leaving behind the cardboard box containing the ashes of their late foreman. She’d brought his remains, thinking they might find the perfect place to scatter them. Maybe on the top of Mount Sopris. Or in the Roaring Fork River. In any case, Lucas was with them now, and she wouldn’t leave him behind. Dragging the suitcase, she staggered through the bedroom toward the door leading into the hallway. With his gun in his hand, Dylan opened the door a crack and peeked outside. “Give me the damn suitcase and take the gun out of your purse.” She resisted. “I can carry Lucas.” “I’ve got it,” he muttered. “I wondered why this suitcase was so heavy.” “The ashes only weigh nine or ten pounds.” “How the hell do you know that?” “Looked it up on the Internet.” She glanced back into the room. “Maybe I sh
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen With the book in her hands, Nicole stood outside the door to their room on the second floor. When Dylan gestured for her to step back against the wall, she immediately obeyed. Though she’d insisted on coming to the hotel, there was no power struggle here. Following his instructions reassured her; she trusted him to keep her safe…as safe as possible. She peered down the narrow hallway, dimly lit with wall sconces above dark wainscoting. According to local legend, Mount Sopris Hotel was haunted, but she wasn’t on the lookout for ghosts. Her ghost was real, solid and dangerous. Nate could appear at any second, stepping out from the stairwell, exiting the elevator and charging toward them. “Hurry, Dylan.” He twisted the old-fashioned key in the lock. His gun was in his hand, ready to shoot back if Nate was waiting for them in the room. Dylan slipped inside and immediately hit the lights. “Stay with me,” he said. Just inside the door to their room, she watched as he did a q
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty Burke probably would have advised Dylan not to take Nate’s call, but the relief on his wife’s face told him he’d made the right decision. Without objection, she handed the ringing cell phone to him. He answered, “This is Dylan Carlisle.” There was a pause. Then, Nate said, “Put Nicole on the phone.” “I’m the one you’re after.” At the sound of Nate’s voice, rage shot through Dylan’s veins. Every muscle in his body tensed. “Let’s talk, Nate. You and me. Man to man.” “You brought this on yourself.” Nate’s hatred spewed through the phone. If words were bullets, they’d both be dead. “The high-and-mighty Carlisle family hurt a lot of people. You’ve got enemies.” He wouldn’t argue that point. With power came adversaries. When Nicole was first kidnapped, they’d made a list of people with grudges. A very long list. But Dylan’s conscience was clear; he had a deserved reputation for fairness. His ranch and associated businesses kept a lot of people employed. There were ten times mo
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One Even before her kidnapping, Nicole hadn’t liked being in enclosed spaces. The door from the office opened into a narrow passage with five carved stone steps leading to the key-shaped opening of the cave. She clung to the railing fastened to the limestone wall. The only illumination came from a string of bare lightbulbs. Less claustrophobic was the actual cave—not exactly spacious, probably thirty feet by fifty with benches lining the walls. The ceiling arched twenty feet high. She took a breath and concentrated on the space instead of the stone. The last thing she needed was another reason to be afraid. “Kind of pretty,” Dylan said. “In a prehistoric way.” “The minerals in the water vapor are supposed to be good for you.” Her voice echoed slightly. “That’s what the brochure said.” “Look around. Make it fast.” She paced along the right wall. The heat overwhelmed her. She’d seen a sign in the front office saying it was one hundred and ten degrees in the cave. Stifling
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
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