Colorado 01 The Gamble (84 page)

I screamed again but over my scream I heard
Jeff shout, “Maxwell!”

My body stilled and my eyes searched through
the darkness to see Max and Harry at the edge of the outcrop, Harry
on his knees, Max on his feet, one of his fists holding Harry up at
the collar, both of Harry’s hands scratching at Max’s forearm as
his legs scrambled desperately in an attempt to get his feet
underneath him and Max’s other fist repeatedly, with sickening thud
after sickening thud, connected with Harry’s face.

“Max!” Another shout, this one from Mick as
he ran and skidded through the snow toward Max but Max didn’t
stop.

“You okay?” Jeff asked, I nodded my lie, my
eyes never leaving Max as I watched Harry’s legs quit scrambling
and his hands weakening in their struggles against Max’s
forearm.

Jeff took off just as Mick made it to Max,
wrapping both arms around him he yanked him back but Max wasn’t to
be stopped. Jeff made it to the trio and then I saw Cotton
materialize out of nowhere, then Brody was there and Steve, Darren,
George, some guys I’d never seen before and finally Pete and it
took all of them to pull Harry one way and Max the other.

Once they disconnected, Max jerked his
body away and shrugged off the hands on him, standing still as a
statue, only his chest moving, his breaths coming heavy, the cold
tufts of them gusting fast and hard from his mouth, lighting in the
moonlight and his head was tipped down, his eyes glued to Harry.
Harry had collapsed to his front but up on an elbow with his head
bent as if he couldn’t hold it up.

I pushed up to my feet, completely oblivious
to the snow that covered me, matted wet and cold in my hair,
embedded in my clothes and I stumbled to Max. I was two feet away
before he turned to me. I felt his eyes hit me through the darkness
and my knees gave way before I made it those last two feet.

But I didn’t fall because Max caught me in
his arms and hauled me deep into his large, tall, strong body,
holding me close, holding me tight, holding me safe.

Told you he was close,
Charlie said in my head, his
voice teasing but relieved.

It was funny and I would have laughed if I
wasn’t busy bursting into tears.

“I got you, Duchess,” Max’s gravelly voice
rumbled in my ear.

I lifted my arms to wrap him as tight as I
could with the little energy I had left and I shoved my face in his
neck. One of Max’s arms stayed locked around me and his other hand
slid up, palm warm on my neck, fingers in my wet, snow tangled hair
and he held my face to his warmth as I sobbed.

“I got you, baby,” he whispered. “You’re
safe. I got you.”

I nodded into his neck and when I had it
together enough, I whispered, “Bitsy’s up there somewhere. Shauna
too.”

“All right, darlin’,” Max muttered, I felt
his lips leave my ear and he asked someone else quietly, “You hear
that?”

“We’re on it,” I heard Mick say then I felt
Max’s breath warm again on my neck.

“Hold tight, Duchess,” he urged and I did
the best I could do and held even tighter. “That’s it,” he
whispered, his arm returning the favor.

Things were happening around us, people
talking, moving, Steve’s murmur from behind me, his hand touching
my hair before it fell away but nothing penetrated the fortress Max
had built around me with his arms, his body, his strength. All that
was my world was being held in his arms.

When I got myself together, I whispered,
“Max?”

“Right here, Nina,” he whispered back
immediately, “I’m always right here, honey.”

I hiccoughed another sob and pressed deeper
into him.

Then I asked, “Will you take me home?”

Again, Max answered immediately,
“Absolutely.”

Then he bent, lifting me in his arms, he
carried me through the snow and pine trees of a Colorado mountain,
straight to his Cherokee where he set me gently in the passenger
seat, buckled me in safely, folded into the driver’s side and then
he took me home.

Final Visits

I walked into the A-frame carrying my bags
and shouting, “Max!”

I received no reply.

I dumped the bags on the dining table,
considered for a moment how angry Max was going to get when he saw
that I’d bought myself a whole new outfit (including shoes and
underwear), decided that he’d be pretty angry (until he saw the
underwear) then I shouted again, “Max! I’m home! Where are
you?”

I was shouting because now, if you couldn’t
see the person whose attention you wanted, you needed to shout in
the A-frame. This was because Max had built off both sides.

One side, off the kitchen, was a one story,
huge family room that was stuffed full of furniture that invited
you to lounge and do it a long time (and we did); a big flat screen
TV on the wall; and inset shelves all around filled with books, CDs
and DVDs. There was another enormous stone fireplace in there that
helped to heat the space in the winters and made it even cozier and
it was already, no matter how big it was, pretty cozy considering
the high lounge factor of the furniture.

The living room also included an enormous
wedding portrait taken by none other than Jimmy Cotton. It was a
portrait that, personally, I thought was far and away Cotton’s
masterpiece.

It was a black and white candid of me in my
ivory gown, Max in his dark suit. Max had guided me away from the
party for a private moment and he had an arm light around my waist.
I had a hand light on his neck. My head was tipped back, Max’s
tipped down so our faces were close. We were talking, about what I
didn’t recall, but whatever it was, even though we were both in
profile, you could see Max had a small smile playing about his
mouth and I had a huge one on mine, like I was about ready to burst
out laughing. We both looked happy, we looked natural standing
close and touching and, best of all, we looked obviously,
unashamedly and completely in love.

I adored that picture. It was my favorite
thing in the house and I never tired of looking at it even though
Max teased me (frequently) when he caught me lost in study of that
picture.

At the other side of the house, off the
great room, Max built on two stories with two bedrooms and a bath
downstairs. Upstairs was Max and my master suite with a big
bathroom and a sitting room. I loved that master suite, it was
beautiful, but I missed being with Max in our loft which we now
used as a guest room whenever Mom and Steve or friends from England
came visiting.

Therefore, considering the fact that even
with me shouting, Max might not hear me, I went in search of
him.

As I moved through our house, I tried not
to think of seeing Shauna at the mall with her husband. I hadn’t
seen her in ages, it had to have been at least two years, and
seeing her brought up thoughts that hadn’t occupied my mind in a
long time. Thoughts I didn’t want to have but thoughts, whenever
they started to crowd in, I couldn’t keep at bay.

Word was, Shauna lived just outside Carnal
now, a town about thirty miles away. Gossip in Gnaw Bone reported
she actually loved this guy. Seeing him for the first time, I was
surprised. He was shorter than her, older than her and not nearly
as physically attractive as her. Gossip also said he wasn’t exactly
rolling in the dough but she was content in her average house with
her husband’s average salary.

Max said it was bullshit since she still
didn’t work and likely she had her eyes peeled for her next target
just like always.

My thoughts were that it might not be
bullshit. Even an ice queen would rethink her life’s path when,
because of her actions, her mantoy gets murdered leaving his kids
fatherless; her previous life path set her up to be framed for
multiple murders; and when it came out she tried to fleece her
lifelong best friend, everyone in town stopped not liking her and
started actively hating her and they were not afraid to show it
even if she’d survived a significant trauma.

As they would, thoughts of Shauna
unfortunately led to thoughts of that night and what came of
it.

Mom had seen Damon carrying me to his truck
and she’d called Max immediately. Just as immediately, Max sprung
into action, calling Mick at the same time he and Steve started
their search for me. Max and Steve had found Damon not thirty
minutes later since he was not hard to find, seeing as his truck
and body were off the main road just a couple miles out town.

With Damon down and me gone, my purse still
in Damon’s truck and there being no word or sighting to prove me
safe, confusion reigned so Max talked Mick into setting up an
all-out manhunt or, in this case, a womanhunt.

It was not lost on Max that as word flew
through Gnaw Bone and every man and most of the women in town
dropped what they were doing to join the hunt, Harry was the only
one unavailable to participate. Things became clearer when Bitsy’s
sister reported that Bitsy was missing and they couldn’t get hold
of her and they never couldn’t get hold of her. Mick ran a search
on properties that Curt, Bitsy and Harry owned and found a hunting
cabin Harry had and, upon learning this knowledge, Max and Steve
headed to the cabin and Mick, Jeff, Brody and the rest
followed.

By the time Max found me, Harry had had me
for seven hours. It wouldn’t be until much later, indeed when we
were in my bed in Charlie’s house in England, that he would confess
that those seven hours “were the worst seven hours of my fuckin’
life, Duchess.”

I hated Harry because he made Max experience
that fear. And I hated him even more because he made my Mom and
Steve experience it too. The only good thing to come of it was that
I didn’t stay in Gnaw Bone an extra week and Max didn’t come to
England for a couple of weeks’ visit. Instead, I stayed in Gnaw
Bone an extra week and Max came to England and stayed with me for
three months as I worked my notice, sold Charlie’s house and
prepared to leave my old life behind.

Since that day, outside of working, trips to
the mall or grocery store, when Max was in town doing something for
his Mom and other normal life things, Max was never far away from
me. He was usually right there and if he wasn’t, he could be right
there in under thirty minutes.

This wasn’t suffocating. When you’d been
kidnapped and narrowly missed being shot to death, having a
mountain man at your back was reassuring.

And having an amazing man love you so much
that experiencing the threat of losing you meant he didn’t like you
far away was beyond reassuring. It was beautiful.

Harry had shot Damon in the heart therefore
he was dead before his face hit the dirt. He wasn’t missed much
because he was a serious jerk but no one believed that was
appropriate comeuppance, even if he was a serious jerk.

Harry had confessed to three counts of
murder, conspiracy to commit murder and four counts of kidnapping
for, in the end, he’d kidnapped Bitsy too. Even if he confessed to
the crimes, he still received a life sentence as, I thought, he
definitely should. Max was of another mind, namely the death
sentence but since the state of Colorado had only put one man to
death since 1976, Max had to make do with Harry not breathing free
and having plenty of time to reflect on his actions for the rest of
his sad, wasted life.

Bitsy had confessed to conspiracy to commit
murder.

The fallout had rocked the town of Gnaw Bone
for no one suspected either Harry or Bitsy. Both of them were
well-liked and the entire town was stunned that not only did they
perpetrate this heinous deed (or, in Harry’s case, deeds, plural),
they’d planned it for years.

That said, whether it was right or wrong, no
one blamed Bitsy much. Curt had crippled her, killed her best
friend, flagrantly cheated on her, gave money to his mistress and
forced Bitsy, in a variety of ways, into a life she didn’t want to
lead both in a wheelchair and also living in that house that lorded
over the whole town. But the bottom line was, she spent years
planning her husband’s murder. Nevertheless, her confession and the
extenuating circumstances meant her sentence was relatively light
but she was still in jail and would be for awhile.

Although I had been caught up in their
mess, Max also didn’t blame Bitsy (much). This was because Bitsy,
who had been hiding her bitterness against her husband, didn’t hide
her repentance for what she, no matter what anyone told her
(including me when I visited her), blamed herself that she’d led
Harry to do. She took responsibility for all of it, most especially
what happened to me. The events leading on from Curtis Dodd’s
murder broke her. It wasn’t jail that broke her; she had, in her
mind, the end of four lives on her hands
and
what happened to me.

In an effort to make amends, she sold Curt’s
business to Max for a song. He argued with her about the deal but
she refused to listen. She wanted to do her bit to keep Max in town
with me and to keep Max and I fed and happy and she somehow
convinced mountain man Max to take the deal. He did and as he’d
said he’d do, he downsized the operation. Even so, with Max’s
reputation as a man as well as for his quality craftsmanship, he
kept his crew busy, his family fed and more than comfortable at the
same time we, since I bought my lawyer’s desk and installed it in
George’s offices when he and I formed a partnership, kept our
mountain clean.

I completed my search for Max when I
retraced my steps back to the kitchen and I mentally, and
thankfully, shrugged off my thoughts when I saw Max’s note.

Duchess,

Charlie and me are out.

Max

I held the note and stared at it.

They were out. Out
.
Now.
When we should all be getting ready.