Silent Partner Part 3

"I run the ranch, but not the lodge. The lodge manager is very careful about all that. Particularly with female guests."

"Oh," she said, thinking back on how the maid had appeared last night and accompanied her to the room with the male attendant.

Tucker dug into the basket of biscuits, grabbed one, and polished off half of it in a single bite. "So, how'd you sleep?" he asked through the mouthful.

"Like a baby. It's been a while since I slept eleven hours in one night. Usually I get six or seven. But it was as if someone had glued my eyelids shut."

"Happens to people all the time when they visit from back east. It's the elevation," he explained, shoving the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. "And all that wine you drank on the plane."

"I didn't drink that much. And, anyway, how would you know?"

"I have my sources."

"Well, it was the flight attendant's fault. He kept refilling my gla.s.s and thank G.o.d he did, because if he hadn't, I might not have survived the landing. It felt like I was on the s.p.a.ce shuttle and we were re-entering the earth's atmosphere." She watched Tucker rummage through the bacon. "Do you treat everything as tenderly as you do your food?"

"Most of the time," he answered, finding a large, particularly crisp piece. He smiled suggestively. "But I can get rough when I need to."

"I'll bet." Something caught her eye and Angela leaned across the table to get a better look. "How'd you get that?" she asked, touching a long scar on the back of his wrist.

"I was wra.s.sling a stray steer a few years ago," Tucker explained, holding up his hand. "I've got this thing by the neck and all of a sudden he turns and gores me."

"Jesus," Angela whispered.

Tucker chuckled. "I was the lucky one."

"What do you mean?"

"Cow killed the horse."

Angela shook her head as she reached for the fruit, filling a small bowl with wedges of fresh melon. "So what are you doing here? Why aren't you out roping steers?"

"Well, I-"

"Couldn't wait to see me again?" she interrupted. "Even if you couldn't come upstairs to wake me."

Tucker slowly wiped biscuit crumbs from his mustache with the back of his hand. "That's a nice dress you've got on, Ms. Day," he said, avoiding her question. "Verychic. I'm sure Mr. Lawrence would approve."

"Thank you," she said, impressed that he'd noticed. He didn't seem like the type who would. "I bought it especially for the trip."

"It's nice, all right," he continued, "but you're gonna have to change."

"Why?"

"Your meeting with Mr. Lawrence is at the ranch's upper cabin, and there's only one way up to it other than by helicopter, which we don't have."

"How's that?"

"Horseback. And that dress would make the ride mighty uncomfortable, maybe even dangerous."

"I'm not getting on a horse," she said flatly. "No way."

Tucker shrugged. "Suit yourself. But if you don't, you won't be meeting Mr. Lawrence."

An hour later, Tucker hauled himself up into a Western saddle strapped to the back of a huge black stallion, then leaned down and held out his hand. "Put your left foot in the stirrup and take my arm," he ordered. "And swing your right leg over the horse's a.s.s on the way up."

"Lord," Angela murmured, careful to avoid the b.u.t.t end of a rifle protruding from a saddle holster. Then she was behind Tucker and they were moving ahead when he dug his heels into the animal's flanks. Instinctively, she grabbed his wide shoulders. "This is no fun," she called nervously, swaying from side to side.

"What's your problem?" he asked with a smile, guiding the animal away from the lodge and out over an open field of pristine snow.

"I've never been on a horse before," she admitted, resting her face on his broad back. Again she became aware of that soothing leather smell. "It seems higher when you're up here than it does from the ground."

He laughed loudly. "You'll be all right. Just make sure you throw yourself clear if we go down."

She moaned.

"I'm only kidding. We'll be fine."

"Hey!" she yelled.

"What?"

Angela pointed at two men near one corner of the lodge who had just pulled up in snowmobiles. "I thought you said there was only one way to get around without a helicopter."

"Snowmobiles wouldn't do us any good."

"Why not?"

"You'll see."

Soon the open field stretching away from the lodge was behind them and the horse was climbing a trail that twisted through the thick pine forest covering the mountain. The trail grew steadily steeper and the trees spa.r.s.er until they broke into the open. Then the trail quickly turned into a narrow, rocky path that seemed barely etched into the side of a vertical wall.

The view from the private dining room had been nothing compared to this. To her left Angela could reach out and touch the rock face soaring above them-it made her dizzy when she looked up. To her right, the mountain fell five hundred feet straight down to the bottom of a canyon. Her heart rose into her throat once when the horse stumbled going over a large stone, but Tucker skillfully brought the stallion back under control. Now she understood why a snowmobile wasn't an option. It wouldn't have been able to negotiate this stretch of the trip.

As they moved ahead she watched her breath rise in front of her. She was glad Tucker had ordered her back up to her room to change into the clothes a maid had scrounged up for her at the last minute-jeans, a wool sweater, a ski jacket, warm socks, and insulated boots. The sky had turned overcast again, and it was windy and much colder up here.

"So whatdo you wear to bed?" Tucker called over his shoulder when the path widened and became less treacherous.

She'd been lost in thought, enjoying the view despite the danger. It was as if they were on top of the world. "Depends," she answered, playfully tilting his ten-gallon forward.

"On what?" he asked, pushing the brim back up.

"I'll let you figure that out."

Tucker sighed, then laughed. "You're killing me, Angela."

"Uh-huh."

"Where did you fly in from?" he asked.

"Richmond, Virginia."

"Is that where you're from?"

"No. I grew up in North Carolina, near Asheville. That's in the western part of the state."

"How'd you end up in Richmond?"

The series of events that had led her to Virginia flashed through her mind. "A man," she answered curtly.

"I'm not one to muck around where I'm not wanted, but it doesn't sound like this guy ended up being your knight in shining armor."

"No, he didn't, and I like your rule about not mucking around where you aren't wanted." She hesitated. One reason she'd hoped to see Tucker again was to have the opportunity to ask him this question. "Why were you so skeptical last night about my meeting with Mr. Lawrence being legit?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked innocently.

"Come on, John. I heard that sarcastic comment you muttered under your breath when we were driving from the airport to the ranch. You thought I didn't, but I did."

He didn't answer for a moment. "Look, Mr. Lawrence is one of the world's most eligible bachelors, and he likes the company of attractive young women. I'm not violating any deep dark secrets here. I've made this trip to the cabin before with a woman behind me."

Angela's pulse quickened and her cheeks began to burn. Though he had provided few details, her boss in Richmond had promised that this meeting was on the up-and-up, and that it could prove to be a tremendous opportunity for the bank and for her personally. "I a.s.sure you that's not what's going on here," she said stiffly. Ahead Angela saw that the mountain was flattening out into a high meadow ringed by rock ledges. At the far end of the meadow was a small cabin, and beside it a helicopter, blades still slowly rotating. "I'm not that kind of woman, and I resent your a.s.suming that I am."

"Then I sincerely apologize."

Angela noticed several men milling around the front of the cabin. Most of them carried rifles slung over their shoulders, barrels pointing to the sky. "Apology tentatively accepted."

Tucker pulled back on the reins. They were still fifty yards from the cabin, but one of the men was trudging through the snow toward them. "Be careful, Angela," Tucker warned, his tone turning serious. "Jake Lawrence is a powerful man. He's used to getting his way."

"I can handle myself."

"You're late, John," the man called out in a heavy British accent.

"It's wonderful to see you, too, Billy boy," Tucker replied. "This guy's a real p.r.i.c.k," he muttered over his shoulder.

"Ms. Day, I'm William Colby," the man announced as he neared them, looking past Tucker. "Please get down from the horse. We're behind schedule."

Colby had closely set eyes, and a wide, hooked nose that seemed out of place on his thin face. He was completely bald. Unlike the other men milling about the cabin, he wasn't wearing a blue knit ski cap-or shouldering a gun.

"He's Secret Service via Scotland Yard," Tucker whispered. "Very British, very stuffy, and very-"

"Very efficient," Colby finished, his aristocratic accent knifing through the cold air. "I'm very good at what I do, Ms. Day, which is why I run global security for Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Tucker runs a ranch."

"Confident chap, wouldn't you say?" Tucker grunted, helping Angela slide down from the horse.

She nodded subtly at Tucker from the ground. But, despite his slight build, there was an unmistakable aura of competence about Colby. A sense of purpose.

"Please take ten paces toward the cabin, Ms. Day," Colby ordered, signaling to one of his men.

"There's no need for all of that," Tucker a.s.sured Colby, swinging his right leg over the horse and dropping down into the snow. "She's clean. I checked."

"Stop right there, Ms. Day," Colby demanded as Angela completed her tenth pace.

Angela stopped and waited as the man Colby had motioned to pulled the weapon from his shoulder, handed it to another man, and jogged toward her.

"Hands behind your head and spread your legs," the guard ordered gruffly.

"What?"

Tucker rolled his eyes. "Billy, don't-"

"Do as you are told, Ms. Day," Colby directed, cutting Tucker off.

When Angela complied, the guard frisked her, starting with her shoulders then moving down her arms.

Tucker shook his head. "You're an a.s.shole, Billy."

"And you are a cowboy,Johnny, " Colby retorted. "But we each have a job to do. So I won't tell you how to shovel pig slop, and you won't tell me how to protect Mr. Lawrence." The man frisking Angela had halted his search and Colby pointed at him. "Finish!"

"Easy," Angela warned when the man squatted in front of her. "Dammit!" she shouted, stepping back quickly when he placed his hands on her knees, then began moving them up her inner thighs.

"She's not carrying a weapon, sir," the man reported to Colby.

"All right," he acknowledged. "Please proceed to the cabin, Ms. Day. Mr. Lawrence is waiting for you inside."

"Who's responsible for getting her back down the mountain?" Tucker wanted to know.

"You are," Colby snapped.

"Can't you give her a ride to the airport in the chopper, Billy? I'll have somebody from the lodge take her luggage out there."

"We aren't going directly to the airport when Mr. Lawrence is finished with Ms. Day."

"I'm waiting inside, then."

"You'll wait out here," Colby declared, "where I can keep an eye an you."

Tucker let out a frustrated breath. "Then I suppose I'll have to resort to other means of warmth." He pulled a flask from a saddle bag, unscrewed the top, and brought it to his lips.

"Go on, Ms. Day," Colby ordered, watching Tucker take several healthy gulps from the flask.

"I'll be here," Tucker called after her, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. "Don't worry."

Angela followed the man who had frisked her to the cabin, then skirted around him as he held open the door and gestured for her to proceed. The door closed behind her and for a moment she could see little as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Despite the overcast sky, it had been bright outside with the snow cover, and the only light inside the cabin came from the glow of a low fire.

"h.e.l.lo, Ms. Day."

Angela's eyes flashed in the direction of the voice. She could barely discern the outline of someone sitting in a large chair in a corner of the room away from the fireplace.

"I'm Jake Lawrence." The figure stood up and came toward her out of the darkness. "Let me help you off with your coat. You'll melt in here if you keep it on."