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“None of your business. Why are you on my mountain?”
Michael chuckled. “Didn’t know it was yours. Map says it’s Forest Service.”
“Only part of it. Why are you skulking around?”
The man was definitely above him, maybe slightly ahead. Michael’s tinnitus made it hard to pinpoint sound directions. “I’m not skulking. Just exploring. Do you live up here year around?”
“This is my home. I don’t like trespassers.”
Michael’s instinct was to trust the man was what he seemed, but he’d been wrong before. “Look, did you see the blonde?”
“Yeah. Deb’s Bakery, right?”
“Yes.” He shouldn’t be surprised; most locals would recognize her. “Her business is being threatened, and we’re hiding until we figure out how to move ahead.”
“Who’s after her? The scumbag she married is in jail.”
Not surprising the guy knew about the ex, either. Dealing drugs to kids drew a lot of publicity and death threats. Michael had no problem with that. “Actually, he’s dead. We think the mob got him, as a warning to her, but we don’t know for sure.”
“Good riddance.” A man in woodland camo, with a long, scraggly gray beard and a black watch cap appeared next to a large rock about twenty feet above Michael’s head. He’d either been waiting for a long time, or gotten very close without making a single sound or sending any rocks sliding down, an amazing feat on the very steep hillside. “That guy was dirt. But Deb’s a sweetheart. She sends a lot of stuff to the shelter and the food bank. I’ll watch for strangers.” He shrugged. “I do it anyway, but I’ll be looking for idiots who don’t know the woods. That ATV was a friend, though, right? The tall guy? And the drone?”
The guy had been paying attention. “Yeah. Tom Borde. He and his Dad own the Rocking B Ranch in the Sapphires; Pete’s a Vietnam Vet.”
“Knew Pete back in the day. His kid’s married to the girl who shot the fire-starting rapist, right?” He spat to the side.
The man was very well informed, but the local paper was free. Maybe he went to town more often than his appearance implied. Or he had a friend helping him with supplies and news. “Yes, Wiz.”
“She’s a smart one and got a raw deal in the papers.” He nodded sharply. “I’ll help you out however I can. Be careful. I’ve been hearing a lot of helicopters to the north, and they’re moving this way. Lots of circling, like they’re looking for something. I’m guessing it’s you two. Make sure you stay inside or far away from the cabin during the day, and don’t use lamps at night. When you get back, try to hide the tracks you left in the snow. Be ready to run, all the time. If I’m close, and I spot someone headed your way, I’ll slingshot rocks onto the cabin roof to warn you.”
“I’d appreciate it very much.” Another set of eyes could only help.
“Not doing it for you. Keep that girl safe, you hear?” The man shook an admonishing finger at him, then disappeared.
“That’s my number one mission.” The man was a ghost. He must know every rock and tree surrounding them. Michael sighed and plodded onward, watching for wires and traps. Just because the man agreed to help Deb, it didn’t mean he’d make things easy for Michael. Which meant it would be even harder for some mobster from the city; a very good thing.
Michael sped up, despite the slope and the possibility of traps. If there were helos up, he had to erase the evidence of their passage sooner rather than later, and make sure Deb remained safely hidden. She’d never be his, but losing her was unacceptable.
Chapter 12
Deb sat on the futon and tried to lose herself in a book boyfriend, but her worry for Michael kept her from relaxing. She’d organized their hideout, eaten lunch, then cleaned and reorganized, baked cookies in the backpacking oven and planned dinner. But the sun was sinking, and he hadn’t returned. The satellite phone rested on the futon next to her, but Wiz hadn’t sent anything, so she had to assume Michael was safe. Unless Wiz’s drone was down for charging, all the motion sensors quit working and the bad guys had already captured him. Or, more likely, he could have twisted an ankle, or got eaten by a bear, or gotten jumped by a mountain lion, or fallen down the mountain side, or been attacked by the mountain man.
She got up and paced. Worry wasn’t useful, but she couldn’t help it. She went from window to window, peeking out, over and over. An odd crunching noise, followed by swishing, made her grab the bear spray and taser, and listen again. The crunch, swish, swish, swish, crunch, swish, swish, swish pattern repeated, growing louder, and it might be coming from behind the cabin. A bear digging through the snow?
Deb padded to the bathroom and stood on the toilet to look out the tiny window. Michael faced away from her, holding a bunch of thin branches in his hand. He’d take a step and then sweep the branches across the snow, explaining the noise. He must be trying to remove their tracks.
She laced up her new hiking boots, grabbed the broom, and left the cabin.
Michael pointed at her. “Get back inside. I’ve got this. You need to hide. There’s helicopters looking for us.”
“But I can help and we can get done faster.” She wasn’t useless.
“No. Your hair shines like a beacon. Inside.” He returned to his task.
Deb rolled her eyes and stomped inside. Men were so infuriating. She might not be woods-wise or a sniper, but she could put on a hat and sweep with the best of them. She marched back and forth, shaking out her hands each time she clenched them in anger. She couldn’t allow him to affect her. He’d shown her, over and over, that he thought she was a helpless idiot. She couldn’t change his mind; she could only change her reaction.
But that was hard.
Finally, the door opened and Michael stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him, then pulling a chair over and untying his boots. His mouth was clamped, and a line formed between his scowling brows.
