Snowed In. Cassie Miles
with the deputy and told him to come to the B and B, she planted herself on the staircase so he couldn’t dash upstairs without talking to her first. As soon as he ended the call, she demanded, “You need to be honest with me. What’s going on?”
“What time does Jeremy get in tomorrow?”
“Not until after noon. He’s coming from D.C. with his father.”
“And Emily’s father?”
“The senator doesn’t arrive until the day after tomorrow,” she said.
Blake smirked. “When the two of them meet, all hell is going to break loose.”
“Maybe it already has,” she said. “Is what happened tonight related to the general or the senator?”
“Both men have enemies.”
He came toward the staircase. Though she was standing on the second step, she was only a few inches taller than he was. His composure was truly disconcerting.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “What kind of enemies?”
His gaze met hers. For a moment, she caught a glimpse of concern in the depths of those very blue eyes. “The general has received death threats.”
Chapter Three
Blake looked beyond Sarah’s shoulder to the darkness at the top of the staircase. Since the doors to the outside remained locked and the windows intact, he doubted that he’d find any intruders hiding in the second-floor bedrooms. A greater potential for trouble came from the woman blocking his way. She didn’t appear to be scared, but the pink blush on her cheeks betrayed a high level of emotion. She was angry. And he didn’t blame her. Asking her to remain calm in the face of potential death threats was a lot. She loved this B and B and wouldn’t want to see it turned into a battlefield.
“You should have told me.” Her chin jutted out. “As soon as you arrived, you should have told me about the danger.”
“I didn’t know how serious it was.” Not a valid excuse. “But you’re right. You should have been informed.”
“Who’s making these threats?”
“We don’t know.” He glanced at his G-Shock wristwatch. Kovak had promised to be here in half an hour. Blake had given him the license plate number on the van, and there might still be a chance to catch the four men in ski masks. “I should make a sweep of the upstairs before—”
“Whoa.” She braced the baseball bat in front of her chest. “You’re not going anywhere until you explain. Why is the general being threatened? Are we talking about terrorists?”
As a ranger, Blake had been trained in how to do an interrogation and how to withstand questioning. He could stonewall with the best of them, but those tactics didn’t apply to a conversation with a pretty innkeeper. He and Sarah were on the same side.
“I’ll be as truthful as I can,” he said.
“That’d be a change of pace.”
“What? I haven’t lied.”
“But you haven’t told me everything.”
“There wasn’t much to tell. The threats haven’t gone beyond the level of harassment. The general had his home office ransacked and his computer hacked. There was a bullet hole in one of his vehicles. He’s been getting hate mail. It started when he was put in charge of a budget committee deciding which military bases and which hospitals will have their funding cut.”
“A budget committee?” She sounded shocked. “These threats are about funding?”
“Everything in D.C. eventually comes around to money.”
“It’s so petty.”
“But still dangerous. Homegrown assassins can be just as lethal as machete-wielding terrorists.”
“But not those guys in the clearing,” she said. “You didn’t have much of a problem dealing with them.”
Though he would have preferred coming off as a superhero who had handily defeated a team of highly trained hit men, her assessment was correct. “They weren’t pros.”
“Are you going after them?”
“When Kovak gets here, I’m going to try.”
Standing on the staircase, she frowned as she tapped the head of the baseball bat against her palm. With her honey-colored hair curling in disarray and her parka open to show pink cherubs with round bottoms flying across her flannel pajamas, she should have looked ridiculous. But her erect posture gave her a certain dignity, and her dark eyes were serious.
“Go ahead and do what you need to do,” she said.
“Are you giving the orders?”
“When it comes to my property, I am.” Again, her sharp, little chin lifted in challenge. “You take care of the bad guys. I’ll make sure that Emily and I are safe.”
“How are you planning to do that?”
“Reinforcements,” she said. “I’m going to call the Reuben twins to patrol the house and grounds. Both of these young men can shoot the fangs off a rattlesnake at a hundred yards.”
“Are they reliable?”
“They’ve worked for me since they were fifteen. In addition to chopping wood and handyman repairs, they know how to make a bed and prepare a proper table setting.”
He nodded his approval. “Make your call.”
“Actually, the twins will be happy to meet you. Their family’s hardware store hasn’t been doing well, and the boys have been talking about enlisting.”
Blake probably wasn’t the best person to act as an army recruiter. At age thirty-five, he was on the verge of retirement and had just one last tour of duty in about six months. Though he’d dedicated his life to the military, he’d had enough of war. “Do you mind stepping aside so I can search upstairs?”
She leaned her back against the wall beside the staircase. “Knock yourself out.”
As he climbed the stairs, he brushed past her and caught a whiff of a cinnamon scent, maybe her shampoo. A spicy fragrance suited her. In many ways, she reminded him of the strong, decisive women he served with.
The staircase bisected the upstairs hallway, and the carved wood bannister extended to his left in a balcony that looked down over a two-story view of the entryway. This open area was probably meant as a staging place for guests hauling their suitcases upstairs, but it made a perfect spot for a spy to quietly hide and observe the comings and goings at the B and B.
Earlier tonight, when he’d taken his secret tour of the house, Blake had gotten a sense of protectiveness and security. The eight bedrooms on the second floor could be easily defended. They were inaccessible except by the central staircase and a narrow stairway at the south end that communicated with the kitchen and went down into the basement. As far as he could tell, all the windows had been upgraded to triple pane, a thickness that not only kept in the warmth but made the glass almost bulletproof. The doors were heavy and well fitted. Jeremy had been accurate when he compared this place to a modern-day fortress.
Blake checked the bedrooms one by one, looking in the closets, poking in the corners and peeking under the beds. The furniture was sturdy pine, polished to a high gleam. And the rest of the decor was simple—as clean as the West Point cadet barracks but not as spartan. In addition to a breakfast menu and a map of the local trails, every room had a hint of nature—simple things, like a basket of pinecones or a Christmas cactus or a rock garden. He imagined Sarah planning these subtle touches that made her B and B feel welcoming and warm. He liked Bentley’s Bed-and-Breakfast and hoped the wedding could be held here in spite of the attack in the clearing. This location was preferable to a hotel, where he wouldn’t have as much