Danger On Dakota Ridge. Cindi Myers
Paige emerged. She shoved the tools and the pack out of sight under some bearberry bushes, then hurried down the trail after the men. The former Eagle Mountain Resort had been the site of plenty of shady activity lately—maybe this was more of the same. It was her duty as a citizen to find out. Besides, who could resist a mystery like this?
She didn’t have any trouble tracking the two men. They crashed through the underbrush like a pair of bull elk. They probably didn’t expect anyone else to be up here. Word had gotten out around town that the trail was blocked, and no one lived on the abandoned mining claims that surrounded CNG’s property, except Ed Roberts, who was practically a hermit and made a point of keeping to himself. Paige had counted on that same privacy to help her get away with cutting the lock off the gate. She’d have to make another attempt at that. Next time, she would bring more muscle, and maybe power tools.
Wherever the two guys with guns were headed, they weren’t wasting any time. Paige had to trot to keep up with them. Fortunately, the trail paralleling the fence made movement easy, and her lightweight hiking boots made little noise on the soft ground. She stayed far enough behind that the men would have to turn all the way around to see her, but she could still keep them in her sights.
A few hundred yards from the gate, they turned away from the trail. Paige stopped and crouched down. She watched through an opening in the underbrush as they carried the box about fifty feet, then stopped and set down their burden. The man in the lead bent and felt for something in the drying grass. The sound of metal scraping against metal carried clearly in the still air. The man turned around, then descended into the ground. The second man shoved the box toward the spot where his companion had disappeared and tipped it up, then slid it in. Then he disappeared after it.
Paige straightened, her mind racing to solve this puzzle. She looked around, noting her surroundings. Gage and Maya had been trapped in an underground chamber on the resort property. Maya’s niece, Casey, had climbed out and run for help. That must be the same chamber where the two men had disappeared just now. What were they doing in there? What was in that box? And why did they have to carry it through the woods instead of driving it to the storage bunker that led to the chamber?
She would definitely be paying Maya and Gage a visit to find out their take on all this. Of course, she had no proof anything at all illegal was going on, but given the property’s history, it might be worth watching. She turned and made her way back down the trail and collected her pack and tools. She checked the lock again, but all her efforts had barely marked it. She would have to come up with a better plan.
Shouldering the pack once more, she started back down the trail. She needed to get back to the B and B. She had a new guest checking in this afternoon. Some government worker, Robert Allen. His secretary had made the reservation, and the credit card information she had given Paige had checked out. He had reserved her best suite for a week, a real bonus, considering this was her slow time of year—past prime summer tourist season, too late for fall leaf-peepers and too early for the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays.
These thoughts occupied her until she reached the spot where the two men had turned away from the fence. She couldn’t resist taking another peek, to see if she could make out anything else distinctive about the site. She bent over and wormed her way into the opening in the undergrowth, a more difficult task while wearing the pack. But she managed to wedge herself in there and look through—just in time to see the second man join the first up top. He bent and slid whatever cover was over the opening back in place. Then both men started straight toward her.
Paige quickly backed out of her hiding place, fighting the branches that snagged on her clothing and tangled in her pack. She swatted a vine out of her way and a thorn pricked her thumb, a bead of bright red blood welling against her white flesh. The tools in her backpack clanged like out-of-tune wind chimes as she pushed her way back toward the trail.
“Hey!” a man yelled.
Something whistled through the air past her and struck a tree to her left, sending splinters flying. A second gunshot followed the first. Paige yelped and ran, heart racing and legs pumping. Those maniacs were shooting at her! You couldn’t shoot at someone on a public trail! Gage was definitely going to hear about this.
They weren’t shooting anymore. They probably couldn’t get a clear view of her. The trail was downhill and Paige ran fast. The two men would have to fight through heavy underbrush and get over or around that fence to pursue her. She had left her car parked at the trailhead and she was sure she could get to it before they could.
Idiots! In what universe did they think they could get away with something like this? You could bet she would be filing charges. She’d call the papers, too. CNG would get plenty of bad publicity from this fiasco. And when the corporate lawyers came calling to apologize and persuade her to settle out of court, she’d use that leverage to have them remove that gate over the trail. In fact, she’d make sure they donated some of their high-value ridgetop property as a conservation easement. They would have to if they had any hope of recovering their precious reputation.
Buoyed by these plans, she jogged down the trail, head bent, watching for roots and other obstacles that might trip her up. She didn’t see the big man in the dark coat who stepped out in front of her—didn’t register his presence at all until she crashed into him and his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight.
As a DEA agent for the past fifteen years, Rob Allerton had faced down his share of men and women who wanted to kill him, but none had outright tried to run him over. The sound of gunfire had sent him charging up the trail, only to be almost mowed down by a female hiker who fought like a tornado when he grabbed hold of her to steady them both. He managed to pin her on the ground, then satisfied himself that she wasn’t armed—and therefore probably not the source of the shots he had heard.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, speaking slowly and distinctly in her ear, ignoring the alluring floral fragrance that rose from the soft skin of her neck. “I’m a law enforcement officer. I only want to help.” Carefully, he eased back and released his hold on her.
She sat up and swept a fall of straight honey-blond hair out of her eyes, and he felt the angry look she lasered at him in the pit of his stomach—and farther south, to tell the truth. He hadn’t seen Paige Riddell in almost two years, but she wasn’t the kind of woman a man forgot easily.
“Agent Allerton.” She pronounced his name as if it was a particularly distasteful disease. He had figured out the first day they met that she seldom bothered masking her feelings or suppressing her passions. Feeling the heat of her hatred only made him wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of her love.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, standing and dusting dirt from the knees of her jeans.
He rose also. “I heard gunshots. Was someone shooting at you?”
“I certainly wasn’t shooting at them.” She adjusted her pack, which clanked as she shifted her weight.
He frowned at the dark blue backpack. “Is that a saw you’re carrying?” He walked around her to get a better look. “And a pair of bolt cutters?” He moved back in front of her. “What have you been up to?”
“None of your business.” She tried to walk past him, but he blocked her way. She glared up at him, with those clear gray eyes that still had the power to mesmerize.
“It’s my business if someone was shooting at you.” He touched her upper arm, wary of startling her. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He should have asked the questions earlier, but he was so surprised to find her here he had forgotten himself.
“I’m fine.” She shrugged off his hand, but he recognized the pallor beneath her tan.
“Who fired those shots?” he asked. “It sounded like a semiautomatic.”
She glanced over her shoulder, in the direction she had run from. “I’m not