Snowbound Security Read online

  She envied that. She was practically frightened of her own shadow right now.

  “Do you think it’s done snowing?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Not if the forecasters are right. This is just a break.”

  “Can you imagine it a hundred years ago when they got a snow like this? They would have been so isolated. I’m surprised they didn’t all lose their minds.”

  “Some probably did,” he said.

  “You’re probably used to it. Since you grew up here,” she added. “Were your parents born and raised here?”

  “My mother’s family is from this area. My father is Cuban. He came to the States when he was in his early twenties.”

  “I wondered...” She stopped. “I’m sorry, that sounds so rude, almost racist. It’s just that you have such pretty skin and your eyes are so dark.”

  “Pretty skin?” he repeated. “If making tea didn’t completely emasculate me, that certainly does.”

  It took her a second to realize that he was teasing. “You must use that new cucumber mask?” she asked, her tone as serious as she could make it.

  He rolled his very, very dark eyes. “Only on Sundays. How about you? Born and raised in Tennessee?”

  She’d told so many lies, she didn’t want to add to the pile. “Indiana,” she said.

  “A Hoosier?” he said.

  “We take our basketball seriously,” she said.

  “I haven’t spent much time in the Midwest,” he said, “but I seem to recall that Indiana can get some snow.”

  “Not in October,” she said. “But yes, as a kid, I had my share of snow days.”

  “And do you remember what you used to do on those infamous snow days?”

  Of course she did. That was when everything was easy between her and Joe. “My brother and I built snow forts. Big ones. Impressive ones. He was two years older.”

  “Was?” he repeated.

  She nodded. “He...he died not too long ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She picked up her tea, took a sip. Swallowed hard to get the hot liquid past the lump in her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered. “We were really close as kids. He always let me tag along, didn’t seem to get embarrassed about having his little sister around like so many boys. But then later...we became estranged,” she said. “And I regret that.” She stared at the fire. “Do you have siblings?”

  “I do. A sister. She’s two years older. Kind of bossy.”

  That made her smile. “That’s right. Earlier you told Hannah that you had a niece and a nephew. They must be your sister’s children?”

  “Yes. Great kids. I may be a little partial, though.”

  “As you should be,” she said.

  “And your parents?” he asked.

  “Dead,” she whispered. And she could not help it; her eyes filled with tears.

  She heard him get up, then he was moving his dog out of the way to sit close to her. When his arm came around her and pulled her close, she didn’t resist.

  There had been no one to hold her when her parents were dying. She and Joe should have held each other but they’d been on opposite sides of the argument. He’d been the oldest child, it should be his decision, he’d argued. But ultimately, the paperwork had trumped him. Her parents had named her as their power of attorney for health care. Because they thought that she’d understand the medical jargon better. Certainly hadn’t done it to slight Joe.

  But he seemed to think so. And he told her that she was wrong. Terribly wrong.

  There’d been angry words and ugly glares and definitely no hugs. Not even when it was over. Not at the funerals. Not at the attorney’s office afterward, as they attempted to settle the estate.

  “Tell me something about them,” he said.

  “They loved to go to the symphony,” she said. “Date night, they’d say. Which I thought was pretty cool since they’d been married for almost thirty-five years. My father was in charge of making the dinner reservations and Mom got to pick where they stopped afterward for dessert.”

  “So they loved music. Did they play instruments?”

  “My mother didn’t read music but we had a piano and she taught herself how to play—she had a really good ear for it. My dad strummed a guitar and could carry a tune. He always played in the garage.”

  “A garage band of one,” Rico said.

  “Exactly.”

  She should pull away and sit up straight. Maybe even go to bed.

  But when he shifted, tucking her in even closer, she didn’t protest. Saw that he had his eyes closed. Decided to follow along. Just for a minute.

  Chapter 8

  He woke up, half sitting and half lying on the couch, his arms full of Laura. She was still asleep, breathing quietly.

  The fire had died and he could see slivers of daylight through the spaces in the blinds. Lucky was curled up on a blanket on the other couch and now the dog turned his head to look at Rico. He was acting like it was absolutely normal for Rico to wake up with a pretty blonde draped around him.

  Which wasn’t really true. Rico worked hard and played hard, but most of the time, the play was strictly with good friends. He wasn’t like his partner Trey Riker, who’d made dating an art form. But then Trey had met his match in lovely Kellie McGarry, and he now had eyes only for her. They’d gotten married in the summer and it had been a hell of a party. The reception had been at Lavender, the place where Kellie and Trey had met.

  Actually, been reintroduced. They’d first met when Kellie was twelve and Trey was eighteen. But then, they brushed past each other, unaware that fate would push them together again.

  He looked at Laura. She was a pretty woman and wondered what she’d looked like at twelve. Had she hated the light smattering of freckles on her nose? Had she wished for blue or brown eyes, versus the uncommon color of green that she had?

  Probably. But she’d certainly grown into her looks. With her face relaxed in sleep, no sign of the tension that seemed to permanently be there, he could see...yes, he could see a resemblance to Hannah. Through the eyes. They were the same shape. And the chin was the same.

  She’d said that she was caring for Hannah while the child’s parents were traveling in Asia. She hadn’t claimed to be related. If she was, why hide that?

  He heard the second bedroom door open and knew that peace was about to get interrupted. Sure enough, Hannah, wearing her lion pajamas, ran out to the living room. What was it with kids? Adults needed two cups of coffee before they could barely work up the energy to shower, and kids met the day head-on.

  “Hi,” he whispered.

  Hannah stopped short. Looked at him and Laura, then at Lucky. Climbed up on the couch next to Lucky and started to pet the dog. “It’s time for pancakes,” she announced.

  Laura’s eyelashes fluttered. She made some noise, maybe an mmm-hmm.

  “Laura!” Hannah said, evidently not happy with the response.

  He put his finger up to his lips to quiet her, but it was too late. Laura’s eyes were wide open and by the look in them, she was quite aware that they were entangled. She started unwinding.

  “Morning,” he said. “Ouch, careful,” he warned. He gently moved her hand.

  Laura, in her haste to get vertical, had come close to shoving the heel of her palm into an area where she could do some damage.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, sitting up so fast that had he not been prepared for it, she might have knocked her head into his nose.

  “No problem. Sleep well?” he asked, smiling.

  She blushed. It was really quite adorable.

  But she didn’t answer him. Instead, she focused her attention on Hannah. “Good morning, honey. How are you?”

  “Hungry,” Hannah said.

  “Of course you are,” she said. “How about
I get you an orange and you can eat it first. Then maybe watch your movie for a few minutes. After that, we’ll have pancakes.”

  “I sense a ploy to have time for coffee?” he whispered.

  She narrowed her pretty green eyes. “Some people rely upon coffee.”

  “And you shouldn’t trust those who don’t,” he said.

  That got him his first smile. “Not completely.” She stood, stretching her body. She’d worn leggings and a loose shirt to bed, and last night it had been too dark for him to fully appreciate how she looked in them. She was in great shape with long legs and a lean upper body.

  She walked into his kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He followed her. “Would you like tea?” she asked.

  “Thank you.” He grabbed an orange from the refrigerator and peeled it. Then broke it into sections. “Does she like it on a plate?”

  “A paper towel is fine. Thanks...for your help.”

  “Happy to do whatever I can to mitigate any delay in the pancake making,” he said. He delivered the orange to Hannah and got a distracted thank you, because she was watching something on Laura’s computer. He crossed back over into the kitchen area and took a seat at the table.

  She held her cup under the streaming coffee, evidently unwilling to wait for the pot to finish. Then she took a sip before coming to sit with him. “We probably have a few minutes before she starts throwing orange slices our direction, demanding her pancakes.”

  She was teasing. “Seems as if her parents have done a nice job with her. She’s very polite. I imagine they miss her when they’re traveling.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  The guarded look was back in her eyes. He was confident she had no idea that she was so easy to read. Or maybe he was just good at it. That’s why his partners said that he was the best one to negotiate with potential customers. He could read people well, knew the right thing to ask, the right thing to say that would clinch a deal.

  Knew how to politely steer those that looked as if they were going to be more trouble than they were worth out the door and onto the next unsuspecting agency. Well, almost always. He’d made a mistake with Mora Rambeilla.

  His partner Seth Pike, whose conversational skills were sometimes limited to a grunt here or there, accused that he could make conversation with a fence post. He always corrected the man and said it wasn’t a liability to be able to talk to anyone about something.

  He decided this was one of those times. He wanted to remove all traces of wariness from Laura’s pretty eyes. “So just how do you make these amazing pancakes?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “It’s nothing I do. It’s the magic ingredients.”

  “Magic? I’m not sure I recall seeing magic on the grocery list.”

  “It sells under many names. Butter. Flour. Sugar. Some more sugar.”

  “Oh, heart disease magic,” he said knowingly.

  “Exactly.” She smiled. “And maybe I should worry about that on Hannah’s behalf, but I just can’t work up the energy right now.”

  “Even after coffee?”

  “Even then,” she said. She got up from the table and started adding ingredients to a large mixing bowl. Flour. Oil. Baking soda. Eggs. Milk. Dash of vanilla.

  He got up and pulled blueberries out of the refrigerator. And a couple apples. Set the blueberries aside but quickly peeled the apples, sliced them, and put them in a pan. Added some brown sugar, cinnamon and a little butter. Turned the heat on medium.

  “You don’t mind if I offer a variation or two?” he asked.

  “Don’t be disappointed if it goes over like a lead balloon.”

  He waved away her concern. “There should be a griddle in that cupboard.”

  “You really have everything here, don’t you?” she said, her tone amazed.

  He just had things. But Laura and Hannah being in the cabin seemed to bring the things alive, made them fun versus functional.

  She coated the electric griddle with cooking spray and turned it on high. When she dropped the pancake batter in, it sizzled.

  “Pancakes in five minutes,” she said to Hannah. “Go wash your hands and have a seat at the table.” The little girl practically ran to the bathroom.

  Rico washed about half the blueberries. “Mind if I add a few of these to some of them?”

  “Not at all. I love blueberry pancakes.”

  He pretended surprise. “I think blueberries might be a fruit?”

  Hannah, who had come out of the bathroom, frowned at him. “Of course they’re a fruit. You don’t know very much, Rico.”

  He picked up the little girl and made her squeal. “I know that little girls like to be tickled.” He had her laughing in seconds and she didn’t stop until Laura set the first batch of pancakes on the table. He noticed that she’d given her one with the blueberries.

  “Aha, guilty of sneaking in a few nutrients, I see,” he said.

  “As charged,” she agreed.

  He put Hannah on a chair. She immediately picked up her fork.

  “Want to try some apple topping?” he asked.

  The child shrugged. She had pancakes. Everything else was inconsequential. “I guess.”

  He put a dollop of the fresh apple topping atop her cake. And watched while she took a bite.

  “Good,” Hannah said.

  Rico had known success before but none quite that sweet. “Laura?” he asked, spoon in the air.

  She held out her plate in response.

  And they ate breakfast like a regular family. And Rico, who had never thought too much about marriage, suddenly found himself thinking how much fun it might be to have breakfast every morning with his wife. His child.

  He had a big table, plenty of room for a couple kids.

  “You’re smiling,” Laura said. “Pretty proud of yourself?”

  Better to let her think that than to know the truth. She was already skittish—he didn’t want to send her running into the storm.

  “Small victories are sometimes how a war is won,” he said.

  * * *

  War. She supposed that was what she’d declared when her access to Hannah had been cut off by Ariel, Joe’s widow. To have suddenly discovered that she had a niece, and then to be told that she couldn’t see her, had been horrific. She’d been very angry with Ariel.

  The timeline was crazy. Joe had died in January. Ariel had remarried just months later. Of course, Laura had known nothing about either event or about Hannah until the small life insurance payment had arrived at her apartment in Memphis in May. She’d immediately traveled to Nashville, but Ariel had refused to let her see Hannah.

  Maybe it was because of Joe; maybe it was because of the new husband; maybe it was simply that Ariel was a bitch. Laura was never going to know because Ariel had been dead less than a month later.

  And that had propelled Laura into action.

  And here she was, seventy-four days later, on the run with Hannah.

  Who had finished her entire pancake. “Can we go outside now?” the child asked.

  Laura had been expecting the question. Truth be told, she was also a little excited about the idea. She’d snow skied in Montana when she was in college and she could still remember the feeling of being in the mountains, in feet of fresh snow.

  “And make a snow family?” Hannah asked.

  “We’ll give it our best shot,” Laura said. Hopefully Rico had been right the previous night and it was good snow for packing. “Let me get the dishes washed and then we’ll get dressed.”

  “I’ve got it,” Rico said.

  She shook her head. “That wasn’t the arrangement. I’m supposed to be here to help.”

  “One small pass from KP duty doesn’t undermine your position as chief fetcher and getter. Come on. I think Hannah’s going to bust if she doesn’t get out there soo
n.”

  Laura laughed. He was right. The little girl had gotten down from her chair and was jumping up and down next to the table. Laura would be doing Rico a favor if she got her out of the cabin quickly.

  Quickly and snow pants were not synonymous, and it was a full fifteen minutes later before she had Hannah dressed to go outside. She left her standing by the front window. “Two minutes,” she said. All she had to do was pull on her jeans and a coat.

  When she walked down the hall, Rico was standing there. “Hey, I bought these the other day and I picked out the wrong size. But they’d be perfect for you.”

  She took the packages. Long underwear. A sweatshirt. Definitely in her size.

  “What will you wear?”

  He waved a hand. “I’ve got a few things here.”

  And it dawned on her that of course he did. He had everything at the cabin. He hadn’t bought the items for himself to begin with. They’d always been for her.

  Her throat felt tight. He wanted her to be warm.

  “I appreciate them,” she said. “Very much.”

  He just smiled. She went into her bedroom and finished getting dressed, marveling at how she had happened to stumble upon the nicest guy in Colorado.

  Who had no idea that he was still being lied to.

  That made the pancakes in her stomach turn sour. But it couldn’t be helped. Right now, the priority was protecting Hannah. If somebody was told a few lies along the way, that was just the price to be paid.

  When she walked back into the living room, she saw that Rico was also wearing a coat and boots. “Lucky asked if we could come along,” he said.

  “Your dog talks?” Hannah asked, her voice filled with awe.

  Rico shook his head. “Not really. But I can sort of read his mind.”

  Hannah narrowed her eyes. “My dada used to say that he could read my mind. And that he could see trouble brewing.”

  Laura felt her throat close. Joe used to tell her the same thing. “Let’s go,” she said, maybe a little too loudly because Lucky barked in response.

  She opened the door and ushered the little girl out. Rico and Lucky followed. She turned back to look. “Are you taking your crutches?” she asked.