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“This is a seriously bad idea,” Sierra said, groaning and holding her stomach as they slammed and jolted their way along the punishing road.
Cutting a quick look her way, Ace winced to see how miserable she looked, bracing herself against the dash as they drove over rocks and potholes that were rattling every nut and bolt in the low-slung sports car. And the choking dust, kicked up by the Camaro, now only about thirty yards ahead, since both vehicles had been forced to halve their speed, was making it tough for Ace to see well enough to avoid ruts and obstructions in the deepening twilight.
“Maybe we should turn around, then,” he said. “Considering your concussion—”
“Absolutely not,” she insisted. “We aren’t losing what might be our only shot, when we’re so close. Not over a little carsickness.”
It was more than carsickness and they both knew it. But as their climb grew steeper, Ace decided that, with their quarry in sight, she’d never forgive him if he made this decision for her. Just as he would never forgive himself if his choice to continue forward ended up hurting her in any way.
“Look out. Someone’s coming,” she warned, pointed out a pair of headlights coming down the rocky mountainside ahead of them on the narrow, one-lane road.
The Camaro moved to the right just in time to miss a Jeep. Ace had to shave a rock wall, knocking off his side view mirror and eliciting a startled yip from Sierra, to allow the driver to get past him. As he did, he recognized the shocked faces of the local outdoor adventure tour guide and his passengers, who were probably astonished to see the two low-clearance sports cars risking serious damage by attempting this rugged trek. Besides, with darkness falling, they had to know there could be no legitimate reason to visit the isolated ghost town.
Before Ace could make any comment, the road jogged abruptly to the left and the Porsche’s right front end slammed down into a particularly deep washout.
Sierra moaned. “On the way back to town, please remind me to stop and pick up my teeth. I’m pretty sure I left a few back there.”
“Sorry about that,” Ace said, wishing like hell he’d had the four-wheel-drive pickup he used out at the ranch for this trip. But he had to keep his full attention on the road to negotiate what he was almost certain would be the final switchback before reaching what was left of the old mining town. “Not much farther now.”
With that, the Porsche’s engine made a loud clanking sound and died abruptly, every idiot light on the dash flashing on at once. He tried restarting it, again and again until Sierra finally reached out to grip his arm.
“Give it up, Ace. I’m no car guru, but even I know your formerly pampered, garage-kept ride’s not going another inch without a tow.”
“You’re right,” he admitted.
As she peered out through the rock-chipped and grimy windshield, Sierra asked, “So what do you think? Keep climbing on foot?”
Ace blew out a long breath, weighing the deepening gloom against the very long walk back down and the far shorter uphill climb to an armed assailant who certainly knew that they were coming. “He’s trapped up there, right around that next switchback, since this road won’t take him any farther and there’s no hiking cross-country out of there, especially in this light. If he’s smart, he’ll try to take cover and wait to ambush us as soon as we clear the curve.”
She peered out her side window at the steep slope rising above her, a collection of loose rock and coarse gravel that appeared to be anchored by stalk-like, spiny plants and the claw-like roots of a few gnarled and stunted trees. “Is there a way to bypass the road, maybe surprise him by climbing over this ridge?”
“I’m not exactly sure what we’ll encounter on the other side. To be honest, I haven’t been dragged up here since I was a teenager.” Though a couple of his more adventurous siblings had found the place eerily fascinating, Ace could think of better ways to spend a day than poking around among a bunch of falling-down buildings, rusting mining implements and toppling, crudely hand-carved gravestones. “I do know, though, that the terrain’s steep, and there could be nastier surprises out there than a few harmless spiders—”
“Let’s not spoil the mood by bringing up anything eight-legged,” she told him, her lip curling in a look of disgust.
Amusement tugged at one corner of his mouth at the discovery that the normally tough-as-nails Sierra Madden had at least one weakness. “Yes, ma’am. You have my word.”
“I’m holding you to that,” she insisted before nodding toward the ridge. “If we do try climbing up over that, it could be that he’ll be so busy listening for the car that he won’t hear us. And if we’re really lucky, he’ll figure we’ve thought better of our plan and gone back into town to get
help.”
“You sure you’re up for it?”
She made a scoffing sound. “You think I put up with being bounced around until I want to toss my cookies just to wait here in the car? Maybe you should wait in the car, while I take care of business.”
“Not a chance in the world,” he told her, recalling the hatred burning in the gunman’s eyes as he’d pointed his weapon at Ace’s helpless father.
Unbuckling her seat belt, she put down the handgun she’d been holding and began removing the white lab coat. “Ow,” she said, wincing as she twisted, moving awkwardly within the cramped space. “Can you give me a hand with this sleeve? Ribs are still a little sore, but he’d see me coming from a mile away in this get-up.”
“Sure thing.” As he helped her to remove the garment, his forearm accidentally brushed against the warm smoothness of her neck.
Her gaze snapped up to meet his, their faces so close that all he could think of was the softness of her lips, the taste of her mouth, so temptingly close, and the electricity coursing through his skin as their bodies had lain together, without a stitch between them.
As he looked into her beautiful eyes, a chasm opened up inside him, a deep ache at the thought that he may have already irrevocably lost her. But no loss could be as devastating, as permanent, as death, and he knew damned well that that might be what lay in wait for them, just over the ridgeline.
“Sierra...” he said quietly, his fingers smoothing a lock of hair as he tucked it carefully behind her ear, eliciting her sigh and then a subtle shiver. “What I’m here to do—you know what it means to me, what it will mean to my family, putting away my father’s shooter, getting answers to all the questions that’ve been tearing us apart for so long. But the truth is, you mean more than that—so much more.”
“You—you mean a lot to me, too,” she whispered, looking more worried than happy about the admission.
