Gold Fire (35 page)

The prickle spread down Zoe’s spine. Matt’s personal secretary
always
knew where he was, even when he was out of the country.

“Alice,” she spoke up. “When did you last see him?”

“Last Friday. He stopped by before going to the Alpine Sky.” Papers rustled and a desk drawer banged shut as she spoke. “Damn it,” she muttered. “I know
I had the legal papers for the land deal around here somewhere. Did Matt take the file over there?”

David’s mouth went slack as his worried eyes met Zoe’s.

“Alice.” Zoe spoke loudly to get the secretary’s attention. “We’ll look for it. Why do you need it?”

“I don’t, his lawyer does. Could you let me know if it turns up? Or if you hear from Matt? I’ve got several people asking for him from First National and from Price Accounting.”

“Sure, Alice, we’ll let you know.”

David ended the call, still staring. “He skipped.”

“My guess is someplace in the Caribbean that doesn’t extradite to the U.S. Or cruising international waters on a big yacht.”

“Shit,” he groaned. He looked at his bank account, still glowing on the computer screen. “Oh, fuck. Oh, shit.”

Zoe made a pained sound in sympathy. Her bank balance wasn’t quite that ominous, but it wouldn’t pay the bills for long. She’d have to move and find another job sooner than she wanted to.

She didn’t bother saying good-bye. David wouldn’t have heard anyway. It was too soon for him to see the irony of the situation, but it prompted a bitter laugh from her after she left. If he could wait it out, he’d get the manager position by default. She was glad to let him have it.

•  •  •

Jase blinked at his cell phone as it rang again Monday afternoon.
The People’s Free
it said, obviously unable to print the entire name of the commune. “Hello?”

“Jase, it’s Feather. Zoe gave me your number. I
wanted to give you an update on our research into your land.”

He perked up. Feather and Pete had had a week and a half to work on it. “What did you find?”

“Nothing good,” she said, and his brief hope plummeted. “I’m sorry, Jase, but I wanted you to know. We chased down every exception to the zoning ordinances and looked for legal precedents, but they’ve got you in a tight spot. The current zoning board is high on growth, and the plan for a golf course has them practically tripping out. They’ll push it through no matter what you want.”

He cursed under his breath. “I was afraid of that.”

“Me, too. So after that, I hoped we could find an endangered or protected species on your land. All it would take is one protected butterfly or flower. The federal Endangered Species Act would keep them from destroying the habitat. Most of the protected species are in Hawaii, like fifty percent of them, but Colorado has a few, maybe two percent.”

“You must know a lot about endangered species.”

Her mild tone was suddenly gone. “
Someone
has to watch out for the plants and animals. They’re the helpless ones. We’re responsible for what we do on this planet.”

He nodded and barely resisted saying,
Yes, ma’am
. It seemed there was an iron core beneath Feather’s soft exterior.

“Now,” she went on, slipping back into teaching mode. “I surveyed most of the land around B-Pass myself years ago. Logged all the endemic species and migrating birds. But I’m sorry to say none of the federally protected species are anywhere near B-Pass.”

He swore under his breath; he was out of ideas. “You went above and beyond, Feather. Thanks for trying, and tell Pete thanks, too.”

She paused, obviously not ready to give up. “You could just refuse to sell,” she suggested.

“I have. But that’s only a temporary solution. The Alpine Sky will never stop harassing me, even if they get new owners someday. I’ve realized how vulnerable that land is to development, and I want to know it’s protected for a long time to come, no matter who owns it. The resorts have taken a lot of the wilderness around here. I don’t begrudge them some, but they have enough. It’s a small valley.”

“Wait, back up. You said ‘no matter who owns it.’ Does that mean you’d consider selling it?”

“I don’t see that happening. I’d need a guarantee that the land was safe from development.”

“No matter who owns it.”

“Yes.”

Feather snorted. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Because I don’t see what difference it makes.”

“You gotta keep the faith, brother.” The line went dead.

He smiled at the phone, and shook his head. The old hippies were a little odd, but he liked them.

•  •  •

Jase’s truck was already in the Rusty Wire lot when Zoe pulled in. No other cars were there.

She shivered with pleasure, remembering a similar situation two weeks ago. Alone in the saloon with Jase, no customers, the end of a long, hot day . . . the memory still aroused her. Except for the rays of sunlight slicing low through the pines in the west, the scene was the same.

She figured the sexual tension was just as high this time, maybe higher. It was no longer about the mystery of what he looked like beneath his clothes, or how he might touch her and how he’d feel moving inside her. She knew all those things now. It was the knowing that increased the tension, that made her want him at every opportunity. At this rate she would never get him out of her system.

But she had trained for a career, and become good at it. You didn’t just throw that away.

Steeling herself against that reality, she concentrated on remembering their first encounter. If Jase wanted one more memorable session of table sex in his saloon, she was more than willing to participate.

The visual that went with that thought had her smiling as she rapped on the new back door. She hadn’t finished knocking when something slapped beside her against the door. She squinted at the brown mark against the creamy white metal of the door, wondering if someone had thrown a stone. At the same moment, a distant crack echoed off the mountains, sending overlapping echoes rolling through the air.

A rifle shot. She heard them enough during hunting season to recognize the distinctive crack. But they shouldn’t be on Jase’s land, which is where she assumed the sound had come from. And what animal was in season in August?

She took another look at the brown mark on the door. As she did, a second bullet popped against the door, tearing a hole inches from her shoulder. The echoing report rolled after it. Shit! She ducked, one hand on the doorknob, jiggling frantically. “Jase! Jase, open the door!”

A third bullet slammed into the door, a foot below the last one. Too close to her head. Any thought that it was accidental fled from her mind. She was the target.

What was she thinking, calling Jase? If he opened the door, he’d be in the line of fire. She dropped her hand. She should run for cover.

The Dumpster. It was the closest thing, and big enough to protect her.

She crouched low, ready to run.

The door opened and Jase looked down with surprise. “Zoe, what are you . . .”

A fourth bullet hit the door at the same moment she threw herself against his lower body, tumbling them both inside. “Close the door! Fast!”

She wasn’t sure if Jase recognized the slap of the bullet, but he couldn’t miss the booming echo. He didn’t hesitate. He dove against the door, slamming it shut. She wondered belatedly if it would really protect them, or if the bullets would pierce the metal panels. She rose on shaky legs to look, but Jase grabbed her arm and whirled her around.

“The bar! Go!” He shoved against her back, leaving his hand there as she stumbled, then ran full out to the front of the saloon. Dodging behind the bar, she searched for a hiding place, finding none. She huddled against a wooden keg. It was little protection against a rifle if the shooter followed them inside. Nothing would be. Running straight through the saloon and out the front door made more sense. She’d rather take her chances in the open than be a sitting duck.

She turned to tell Jase and saw him cradling a
shotgun in his lap as he opened the safe. She hadn’t seen him pull it out, but it looked like he meant to use it.

His plan might be better.

He pulled out a box of shells, slipping five into the barrel. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he thrust it at her. “Call 911.”

She did, starting over once because her shaking hand hit the eight along with the nine. She waited through a slow connection and one ring, telling herself to be concise and not babble incoherently.

“Nine-one-one operator.”

“Someone is shooting at us. The Rusty Wire saloon. They’re outside, west of the saloon, in the trees.”

“Where are you, miss?” The voice was admirably calm compared to Zoe’s, which was quivering. Of course, no one was trying to kill the operator at the moment.

“We’re inside, behind the bar.”

“Stay there, someone is on the way. How many people are in the building?”

“Just Jase and me. He’s the owner.” She watched him pump the shotgun and take a position facing the back hall. “I think we’re okay. He has a gun.”

“Tell him not to go outside,” the operator said quickly. “Or anyplace else in the building. Tell him he needs to stay right where he is.”

He wasn’t going to leave her, she knew it, but she told him anyway. “The lady says not to go anywhere.”

“The lady’s not here,” he growled, jaw set so hard she saw the cords in his neck. “If someone comes through that door, I’m not going to wait for him to shoot us. You tell her to tell the police they’d better
announce themselves and show some ID before they come in here.”

Zoe relayed the message, feeling suddenly calmer and safer with the knowledge that Jase was willing to shoot first and ask questions later. That shouldn’t be comforting, but right now she preferred it to being a helpless victim.

“Ma’am? Did you see the shooter?”

“No. Tell the police he was shooting at the back door. The front probably isn’t in his line of sight.”

“Are you sure there’s only one shooter?”

Damn, she hadn’t thought of that.

The sound of sirens reached her, increasing rapidly. Within seconds the wailing was right outside the saloon, then abruptly silenced. Another siren in the distance grew closer. Jase had risen to his feet when pounding shook the front door. A man’s muffled voice yelled, “Jase! You in there?”

Relief washed through her as she disconnected the call. She stood, yelling back, “Cal! We’re okay.”

“Zoe?”

Jase strode to the door, fishing keys from his pocket. “Stay back,” he ordered her.

Huddling behind the bar didn’t feel as safe as standing beside two armed men. She hurried to follow Jase.

Unlocking both sets of doors, he opened the outside one a few inches, blocking her. Cal stood, gun held at his side, scanning the surrounding trees. She saw the large white letters spelling
POLICE
on the back of his bulletproof vest before he turned to glance inside. “Anyone hurt?” His attention was already back on the tree line, even though Zoe doubted he could see the right area from here.

“No,” Jase said.

“Did you see the shooter?”

“No,” Zoe answered. She tried shoving Jase aside, but he didn’t budge, so she settled for peeking over his arm. “I think the shots came from the trees around the other side. I knocked on the back door, and four bullets hit it, right next to me.”

Another black police SUV pulled in, lights flashing, and Cal gestured with his gun for them to go around the building. “Stay inside,” he ordered, then trotted after the SUV.

Jase looked at her. She expected anger for not following his orders to stay behind the bar, but worry lines wrinkled the corners of his eyes. He stroked a hand over her hair, cupping her face. “You’re really okay?” he asked, his voice gravelly with emotion.

She nodded. “Just shook up.”

He ran his hand up and down her arm, looking pretty shaken himself before setting his mouth in a grim line. “He’s gone too far this time.”

She didn’t have to ask who he meant. “He’s gone, period. Jase, no one at the Alpine Sky knows where Matt is. Even his personal secretary can’t reach him. He left. I think he skipped the country.”

A furrow creased his brow in an irritated twitch. “Why?”

“His financial problems are snowballing. Bankers and lawyers are trying to reach him.”

His mouth curled with disgust. “A real stand-up guy. But what makes you think he left the country?”

She hesitated. “Ruth Ann is in the Caribbean, throwing money around, and I assumed he’d join her. Maybe hide out someplace where the FBI can’t find them.”

“Or maybe just disappear into the trees and take some revenge. He might even convince me to sell at the same time. That sounds like a better solution than running for the rest of his life.”

She stared. He was right. Matt would save himself. She simply hadn’t considered he’d do it by killing her. It was an extreme move for someone who’d seemed so organized and rational.

But emotionally detached. The memory of how easily he’d accepted her relationship with Jase sent a cold chill down her arms. She didn’t want to believe he’d resort to murder, yet couldn’t say it was beyond him.

Attempted murder was bad enough, but she’d kissed this guy. Envisioned how he’d fit into her life. Considered sleeping with him, for God’s sake. She pulled a chair off one of the tables and sat down. Jase didn’t say anything, but laid the shotgun on the table and stood behind her, massaging her shoulders.

•  •  •

It took a full hour before Cal told them the woods were clear. They’d found the shooter’s position easily enough by figuring out the highest point with the best line of sight. No shell casings had been left, but recent scuffs in the dirt showed where he’d knelt. Unfortunately, scuff marks didn’t provide clues to the shooter’s identity.

It didn’t matter. She didn’t need the police to tell her who had taken those shots. Neither did Jase.

They remained at the table after the police had gone, too drained to move. Elbows propped on the table, she rubbed her fingers over her forehead, trying to massage away the tension. It wasn’t working.

“I’m not safe here,” she finally said.