Snowbound Security. Beverly Long

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СКАЧАТЬ Metez wasn’t supposed to be driving. His doctor had said to wait another two weeks before getting behind the wheel or returning to work, but the hell with that. He was tired of babying his injured ankle, tired of being at less than 100 percent.

      He was headed home. To the Colorado mountains. To his cabin. He’d been saddened to hear from Georgina Fodder that she wasn’t feeling well enough to make her scheduled trip. He’d known her cancer was rapidly advancing but had hoped she’d have one more visit to the mountains. After the conversation had ended, he’d made a few follow-up calls to ensure that she had everything she needed to make her final days as comfortable as possible. Her son had sung the praises of Melissa Trane, a home care worker who’d become indispensable to Georgina.

      And when he’d decided that he wasn’t going to let the cabin simply sit empty, his partners had almost cheered his decision. “We owe you,” they’d said. And they did. Because he’d had the bad luck to be available when Mora Rambeilla had needed executive protection a few months ago. It was really good money but, unfortunately, had been more drama than it was worth.

      She’d been demanding and prone to hysterics. Her ex-husband postulated conspiracy theories that had no basis in fact, and she had manipulative adult children who should have had their own lives but apparently didn’t. It had been a daytime soap opera that had consumed him for two months prior to his accident. Royce Morgan, Trey Riker and Seth Pike had all felt as if they’d escaped a bullet.

      He’d packed a bag, put gas in his SUV and had been grateful when Las Vegas was not even a speck in his rearview mirror. Now, nine hours later, he was close. And as luck would have it, Jennie Jones’s little store was still open. Jennie had to be at least seventy but she still worked twelve-hour days, selling groceries and gas to the locals and anybody passing through that didn’t mind paying a premium of 20 percent for the convenience of not having to drive all the way down the damn mountain to get to a big store.

      He pulled in and killed the engine. Lucky, who’d been sleeping in the passenger seat, immediately perked up and started to whine.

      “No, you’re staying here,” Rico said. “This is a quick stop.”

      The dog cocked his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was being left behind.

      “I’ll get you a treat,” Rico said before opening his door. Then he pulled the crutches that he’d come to despise after him. He negotiated the two steps easily—after all, he’d been using the crutches for weeks now. When he opened the door, Jennie looked up from the cash register.

      “Saints preserve us, is that you, Rico?” she asked, coming around the counter. She took his face in her hands and kissed him soundly on both cheeks. “What happened?”

      “Chasing chickens,” he said. It was an old joke. When he’d been a little kid and wandered into Jennie’s store and stayed too long, she’d send him on his way and say, “Just tell your parents that you got busy chasing chickens.”

      His parents, who had picked fruit for a living, had smiled, grateful that Jennie had watched over their boy while they were busy in the fields, and heated up dinner for him.

      “How long are you staying?” she asked.

      “Couple weeks,” he said. He reached for a plastic basket.

      “You point and I’ll fill your basket. But make it fast, Rico. I was just about to shut down the store. My youngest granddaughter, Ari, is visiting.”

      “How old is she now?” he asked, pointing at boxes of whole grain cereal.

      She dropped them in his basket. “Six. Paddie is watching her while I’m here.”

      Paddie and Jennie had been together for as long as Rico could remember. They had never married. “I’ll bet she’s a beauty,” he said.

      “She is. What else do you need?”

      “Skim milk. Green tea. Any fresh fruit or veggies that you might have.”

      There were red grapes and apples as well as asparagus, mushrooms and carrots.

      “Perfect,” he said. “Still carrying the whole wheat pasta?”

      “Just for you,” Jennie said. “Nobody else seems too interested.”

      He smiled. “Throw in a loaf of your seven-grain bread and a dozen organic eggs and I’m out of your hair for a few days. Oh, almost forgot. Do you have any of those dehydrated apricots? I need something for Lucky.”

      “I wondered if he’d made the trip.” She grabbed a bag from a shelf near the front, then joined him at the cash register. No scanners for Jennie. She punched the numbers in by hand.

      He put the items into plastic sacks and then handed her cash.

      “I can carry those out to your car,” she said.

      “No need.” He grabbed the sacks with his free fingers, using just his thumbs and the heels of his hands to negotiate the crutches. That would be the day when he couldn’t manage to get himself and a few groceries to the car. “Thanks, Jennie. Good to see you, as always.”

      “You, too. Don’t be a stranger while you’re here.”

      Once he was back in his car, he opened the apricots and gave Lucky one. “Am I forgiven?” he asked.

      Lucky, never one to hold a grudge, licked his hand.

      It took Rico another fifteen minutes to wind his way up to his cabin. As was his habit, he looked through the trees as he rounded the last curve, always eager to catch his first glimpse.

      And immediately slowed his SUV down. There was a light on. Actually, two. The blinds were drawn but not quite tight enough. There was definitely light coming from the main living area and from the large bedroom. What the hell?

      He pulled off to the side of the road and quietly opened his door. He reached under his seat and pulled out the handgun that he always carried.

      Lucky, as if sensing that something was very wrong, growled.

      “Be quiet,” Rico said. “Stay.”

      Then he grabbed a small flashlight from the middle console. Considered his crutches and discarded the idea. His doctor said his ankle could start taking a little weight.

      He limped up the driveway. There was a vintage white Mustang with Tennessee plates and a kid’s car seat in the back. For just a minute, he wondered if it was possible that Georgina had been able to come. But he almost immediately discounted the idea. She was too sick.

      He climbed the two steps to get onto the front porch. There were no rocking chairs to navigate around—those were in the back, where a person could sit and see the lake. He moved close, in an attempt to see inside the cabin through the small slit the almost-closed blinds offered.

      He was pretty sure the family room/kitchen was empty.

      He was going in. He tried the door. Locked.

      No problem. He started to punch in the code on the keypad near the door. Stopped when he heard a noise behind him.

      “Put your hands up,” СКАЧАТЬ