Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) (29 page)

Neil’s
face tightened with anger, but he made no reply. Sam was glad. She had too much
on her plate to get into a slinging match with Neil, the womanizer. First
chance she got, his ass was canned. “The Secret Service wants to question both
Flayme and Jayla. They’re witnesses, people. I cannot stress enough that
they’re the good guys, so don’t go after them with guns blazing, or I promise,
you’ll answer to me. All right, people,” she clapped her hands in dismissal.
“We have a big mess to clean up here, so let’s get started.” They all shuffled
out of the meeting room, mumbling and talking amongst themselves.

“Travis?”
Sam hurried to catch up with him.

“What?” He paused, waiting on her.

“I
have to go over to the Secret Service and view the tape from the hotel
elevator. Would you mind coming with me?”

He
lifted a dark brow. “You’re actually requesting my help?”

“No,
just a lift. My car’s making a funny sound.” It wasn’t, but he didn’t know
that, and she felt like company. Officially, she was on vacation. Unofficially,
she was on the job, but damn, she didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want time
to think about Jayla and the danger she might be in, or even where Flayme and
Duel were. She needed someone to distract her, and Travis was the biggest
distraction she knew.

“You
want me to check it out?”

“No,
just a lift.”

“Anything
you want, Sam, anytime. I think you know that.”

She
nodded and stopped by her office for her coat. “Ready?” she asked.

“Yep.”

Sam
sighed and wished she’d grabbed one more cup of coffee. It was going to be a
long day.

Chapter
Twenty-Three

Just because
fate doesn’t deal you the right cards, it doesn’t mean you should give up. It
just means you have to play the cards you get to their maximum potential.

~Les Brown

Western Australia

The Kimberly

February 16, Monday

12:00 p.m.

Fate
was a fickle bitch, Taylor thought. Yet, every now and then, she went to the
trouble to deal a fair hand. It was her gracious g
enerosity, or if he
wanted to give credit to a more Divine spirit
—
the hand of God
—
that
guided him to where he needed to be at just the right moment.

Whatever
it was, it kept him trudging forward with a bulldog determination he never knew
he possessed. Guided by sheer instinct, he dragged the make-do travois behind
him, step-step-step, one foot in front of the other, stumble, regain balance,
step-step-step, over and over until he thought he’d drop from exhaustion. He
refused to give up, until he reached the perfect spot where he paused for a
breather.

Looking
around, he wiped the smothering sweat off his forehead with the back on his
hand and exhaled.
Jesus, God, what I’d
give for a drink of ice cold water
. Thinking about it only made him
thirstier. Already his tongue felt swollen. He’d used all the water the day
before trying to bring down Dianna’s fever.

Every time he took a moment to catch his breath, he looked
up at the dark green umbrella overhead and he knew there was no chance in hell
of a rescue plane spotting them through the abundant vegetation.

They
were going to die.

Yet it appeared Fate had her own plans for them, because
at the exact moment he reached a small break, the dense jungle overhead also
parted its frothy leaves, and a chopper flew over the treetops. Taylor blinked,
then stared up at the sky. Like a giant bird of prey, the helicopter swooped
low and hung there, bright, shiny, and red as an apple. The aircraft hovered
gracefully overhead, whipping the treetops into a frenzy of motion.

Taylor thought he’d never seen anything more welcome or
more beautiful than that chopper. The propellers hummed and whirled, creating a
rousing hurricane force wind that tossed green leaves and chunks of vegetation
through the air.

Bits
of the shredded flora spewed all over him, but he didn’t care. Lowering the
travois, Taylor grabbed a handful of the greenery and laughing, tossed it like
confetti. He whooped and would have danced, but his legs weren’t up to it.
Shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun, he watched something drop from
the hovering aircraft and land a few feet away. Taylor stared at it. “What the
hell?”

He
moved unsteadily to the drop site. A bag with two bottles of water and a chalk
board? A child’s chalk board, not very big, maybe twelve inches long by twelve
inches wide, but the words written on it made his throat tighten and his heart
beat with glee. No sweeter words had ever been written—
Large clearing ahead about half a mile.
Will be waiting.

* * * *

Raider
hung up the phone and whipped around to face his cousin. At the moment, he
didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he did neither, but he still felt the
sting of tears He stood there trying to breathe, but only managed a short pant.

Wild
stared at him. His eyes darkened with sorrow and acceptance. A pinched look
shadowed his face and he took a step back, as though wary of the impending
news.

“What?” he asked. “Is my sister dead?” He sounded shaken,
his voice unsteady and filled with pain.

Raider
grinned, shook his head and slowly exhaled. “She’s alive. Silver found them.
God, can you believe it, mate? She found them! They’re both alive, but…”

“What?”
Wild asked again, his tone filled with fear. “How bad is she?”

“I
don’t know. According to Silver, Dianna has a broken leg, and maybe some
internal injuries, but your sister’s a fighter. She’s hanging in there.
Taylor’s severely dehydrated.” Raider grabbed his dingo hat and crammed it on
his head. “Hell, we knew they’d be in bad shape, but they’re alive, man, so
wipe that awful look off your face and plaster on a smile.”

“I
stopped smiling seven years ago.”

“I
know. Let’s go see your sister.”

Wild
followed beside him. “Where are we going?”

“Broome.
Silver’s taking them to the hospital there.”

“I
need to call home, let my brothers know we’ve found them.”

Raider
nodded. “Once we take off, you can call. Let’s get in the air.”

* * * *

Rimrock, Montana

Dancing Star Ranch

February 16, Monday

Fifty-five minutes after the assassination…

Jace
Remington groaned, slowly turned onto his side and reached for the phone. His
body protested any activity. He grinned when Kaycee stirred beside him. A
measly bullet wound in his chest and the subsequent near death experience a few
days earlier hadn’t kept him from making love to his beautiful wife tonight.

He
tugged her closer and snatched the phone off its cradle. “It’s late! This
better be worth disturbing my wife’s rest,” he snarled into the phone.

Beside
him, Kaycee giggled.
“Your
rest, you
mean,” she whispered.

Wild’s voice came on the other end. “Silver found them,”
his brother announced. “They’re alive! Dianna and Taylor are alive!”

Jace squeezed Kaycee’s hand. His eyes welled with tears.
“They’ve been found,” he repeated, his voice choking. “They’re alive?” he
asked. “Thank God.” He asked more questions then hung up the phone wiping away
tears with the pad of his left hand. “Aw, sweetheart, don’t cry,” he said when
he heard his wife sniff.

“Happy tears,” she whispered and burst out bawling. Jace
patted her shoulders. He always felt helpless when his wife cried and with her
being four months pregnant with triplets, she was an emotional wreck most of
the time.

Honest to God he felt the same, but as she said, these
tears were happy tears, the first for either of them in a long time. “I better
call Duel.” A few minutes later, Jace re-cradled the phone. “Huh. He’s not
answering his cell.” He grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV. “Maybe there’s
news of the rescue.”

“Oh, my God,” Kaycee gasped, staring at the chaos taking
place on the screen.

“Yeah,” Jace said grimly. “No wonder Duel isn’t answering
his cell. It must be pure hell in D.C. He’s likely right in the thick of
things.”

Kaycee nodded. “I suppose the first lady’s assassination
supersedes the rescue of our family.” She rubbed his shoulders. “You hate that
Duel’s an agent, don’t you?”

“I hate that he thought he had to keep it secret from me
and that he waited until I was flat of my back and hooked up to multiple tubes
before he decided to tell me.”

“What difference does it make when he told you?”

“Oh, he chose his time. He knew dad gum well I couldn’t
get up out of that bed and whoop his ass.”

Kaycee giggled, then gasped. “Oh, feel!” She grabbed his
hand and placed it on her swollen belly. “One of them is kicking.
Ow!
All three of them are kicking.” She
looked up at and smiled. “They’re celebrating their aunt and uncle’s rescue.”

Jace fanned his palms on her stomach and marveled at the lives
he and his wife had created. “I’ll be so glad when they’re born,” he whispered,
in awe.

“Yeah, me too.”

* * * *

Ohio

Motor Lodge Motel

February 17, Tuesday

Nineteen hours after the assassination…

Flayme
squeezed the washcloth, then gently sponged Duel’s fevered brow. Hours had
passed and the agent showed little improvement. She sighed. But he was also no
worse, so maybe he’d wake up soon and be his mean old self again.

She hoped so, because much more of this solitary silence
and she was going to go stir crazy. Heck, even the icky clerk inside the motel
office was beginning to appeal to her, at least for a chance at conversation.
Although she figured his vocabulary was limited to just one thing and he had a
snowball’s chance in hell of getting it.

Right
on cue, Duel opened his eyes and blinked. “You stayed,” he said quietly,
disbelief in his voice.

“Who
am I?” she asked. She hoped if she kept asking him eventually he’d get it right
maybe.

“My
redhead?” he said sounding puzzled.

“I
suppose that’ll do. It’s better than Nicole or Sam.”

He
frowned. “I don’t know any Nicole and what does Sam have to do with anything?”

“Never
mind,” she said with a long sigh.

“I’m
glad you stayed.”

“Yes.
I couldn’t very well leave you here alone.”

“You
could have.”

“Maybe, but I have to live with my conscience.” She eyed
him displeased with his color. Boy, this man just did not take getting stabbed
well at all.

“Didn’t
think you had one,” he said.

Flayme
bit back a sharp retort. No matter how much he might deserve it, the agent was
ill, there was no use picking another fight with him. “I already know your
opinion of me. I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself from this point
on.”

“Huh.
What time is it?” he asked, ignoring her sour comment.

“Six o’clock.”

“Evening or morning?”

Flayme scowled. She had to admit his eyes were still a bit
glazed which explained his confusion. She was so ready for him to get back to
his usual self, whatever his normal was since she’d never actually seen him at
his regular self—so far. “Lord, I hope you’re more with it when you’re in your
customary mode.”

He dragged the wet cloth off his forehead and flashed a
sour look at her. “How long have I been out?”

Not long enough!
Feeling grumpy herself, Flayme took the cloth and tossed it on the nightstand.
One more spot on it wasn’t going to be noticed. She pressed the back of her
hand against Duel’s right cheek and frowned. “You’re still feverish, but you
feel a little cooler. It’s evening,” she said, answering his question.

Duel started to fling back the covers, but flopped back
onto the pillow. “Jesus, I feel like I’ve been hit by a train. What day is it?”

“It’s still Tuesday. You slept the day away. Are you
hungry? There isn’t much, but I found a vending machine. We have soda and chips
and cheese crackers.”

“I’d give my right…er, I’d love a thick, juicy steak, but
I’ll settle for a soda. My throat feels like the Sahara.”

She popped the top on a can of Coke and watched him take a
long swallow.

“That tastes better than anything I’ve ever had,” he said,
wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re dehydrated from the fever. Anything would taste
good right now.”

Duel eyed her like he was eyeing a banquet. “Yeah,
probably so. We’ve been here way too long. We need to get outta here.”

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere. The snow’s still
coming down, although it did stop for a couple of hours. There’s almost a foot
on the ground.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “A foot? That’s
nothing.”

“It’s a lot of snow,” Flayme argued.

“Not as much as where we’re going.”

“You aren’t in any shape to drive.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve driven in much worse shape.”
He set aside the Coke can, tossed back the covers, then scrambled for them,
jerking them back over his thighs. “Good God, I’m naked here, woman!”

She grinned. “Yep. I have to agree with Sam, you have a
darling package.”

“Darling? Sonofabitch. She told you about digging that
damn bullet out of my groin. Didn’t she?”

Flayme lifted a brow and folded her arms across her
breasts. “She had nothing but praise for it.”

“Uh-huh. Blabber mouth, tell-it-all woman!” He looked and
sounded irritated.

“Are you referring to me or Sam?” Flayme giggled.

“Both! Why did you undress me?”

“Because you were freezing.”

“Oh, well, in that case it makes perfect sense to strip me
like a banana.”

“It does if I’m getting naked under the covers with you.
You needed my body heat.”

He blinked. “Fuck me,” he said softly. “I finally get you
naked in bed with me and I don’t remember a thing about it.”

“Yeah, I was sort of counting on that.”

“It’s so unfair. It’s almost as bad as not remembering I
kissed you.” He glared at her, his green eyes blazing. “You’re lying. You
didn’t get naked with me.”

“Guess you’ll never know,” she taunted.

“I promise you one thing, sweetheart, we end up naked in
the bed together again, and neither of us will be forgetting it.”

Flayme laughed. “Hah! Don’t think for a minute I’ll take
off my clothes for you again. You’ll have to be at death’s door first, and even
then, I just might leave on my undies.”

“You’re a tease.”

She grinned. “Could be,” she flirted. “But honestly, I
don’t think we’re going anywhere. Besides, your car won’t start. Remember?”

“No problem. There’ll be a four-wheel drive SUV delivered
around eight.”

“But…how? When?”

“Before we ever left D.C., I called ahead.”

“Bull! You had no idea where we’d be staying,” Flayme
snapped.

Duel flung back the covers, this time ignoring his nudity.
“I knew. Pack your things while I take a shower…unless you’d like to join me?”

“You wish!”

“Last chance? Going…going…gone!” He ambled across the room
at a snail’s pace.