ranger sweetheart, Jeremy Hamilton. Though their ideas might be volumes apart, Emily and Jeremy were on the same page when it came to their love. When they were together, they positively glowed. Sarah didn’t understand their relationship. It could be one of those opposites-attract things. Or it could be kismet. Or Jeremy could be terrific in bed.
Whatever the case, she hoped their passion would be enough to see them through the larger problem: their families. Emily’s father was a liberal senator from California, and Jeremy’s dad was a four-star general. At the wedding, they would come face-to-face for the first time.
When Mr. Dove met Mr. Hawk, Sarah expected fireworks. She patted Emily’s arm. “You have enough to worry about. Let’s go back to bed.”
“We’re not turning back. We need to go to the drill site and talk sense into these guys.”
“Why do you care?” She vaguely recalled a tidbit of gossip. “Didn’t you used to date somebody from BOOM?”
“I’m thinking of you,” Emily said emphatically. “You’re going to get blamed for whatever damage they cause. Your B and B is only a mile and a half away from the drill site, and you’ve been fighting Hackman Oil for years.”
“Legally fighting,” she said, “through sanctioned environmental agencies and the courts and—”
“I know. But how will it look?”
“Good point.” Damage at the drill site would look like she was lashing out and trying to get even. The Hackman Oil attorneys would be thrilled to have a reason to sue her, even if she was totally innocent. “We have to stop them.”
“See? I’m right. I’m watching out for my girl.”
Sarah shone her flashlight beam in the direction of the B and B. “At least, let’s go back and get the truck. Sure, it’s five miles of winding roads to access the site. But driving will still be faster...and warmer.”
“It’s better if we’re quiet. I don’t want Blake to know what I’m doing.”
“Blake Randall?”
“Is there another Blake staying at the B and B?” Emily smirked. Apparently, it was her turn to tease. “Don’t pretend that you didn’t notice him. I saw your eyes melt like big, gooey chocolate drops when he walked through the door tonight.”
“Of course I noticed.” How could she overlook a man who was well over six feet tall and muscular enough to lift a Chevy truck with one hand?
“When you shook his hand, you blushed a darker shade of red than your hair.”
“I’m not a redhead. It’s strawberry-blond. And why shouldn’t Blake know what we’re doing?”
“He’d want to come with us.”
Sarah didn’t see a problem with that. “So?”
“I adore Blake,” Emily said. “He’s going to be the best man at our wedding. But he’s an army ranger, and he has a temper. If he gets ticked off, he might go ballistic.”
“An angry, hulking ranger might be exactly what we need.”
Emily took a step forward. “Let’s keep moving. I want to get this over with.”
Sarah grumbled, “I’m too old for this.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re an ancient thirty-two.”
It felt ancient. Sarah tromped forward. On her right was thick, dark forest. To the left were a few scraggly trees and rocks and the sixteen-foot drop-off. She knew every inch of the land surrounding her B and B and had labeled the nature trails with burnt wood signs so her guests could take hikes and not get lost. This path was called the High Road. If you followed it all the way to the end, beyond the site where Hackman Oil had started drilling, you reached a granite ledge with a panoramic view of the Elk Mountain range outside Aspen. Sadly, that spectacular sight would be blighted by noise pollution from the oil rig left behind after Hackman finished their work. The pristine forest would never look or feel the same.
Using the nonprofit business she ran, the Forest Preservation Society, she’d done everything she could to stop them. In other battles, she’d kept Hackman from drilling in four other locations but had lost this fight which was, ironically, the one closest to her doorstep.
From the path to her right, she saw bright lights shining through the trees, spooking the nocturnal wildlife. This intrusion was so wrong. Frustration and anger surged through her. Though her outrage was caused by the oil company, she could use this energy to argue with the jokers from BOOM.
She veered off the trail and paused at the edge of a wide clearing where she saw a flatbed truck with the Hackman Oil logo, a metal drill pipe stacked in the snow and the derrick hung with lights like a grotesque Christmas tree. A dark-colored van was parked near the entrance to the site. About twenty yards away were four men in parkas and work boots. One of them had a semiautomatic assault rifle slung over his shoulder. They all wore black ski masks.
“Why are they masked?” Emily asked in a whisper.
“There might be surveillance cameras.” If so, Sarah’s presence at the site would be on record as soon as she stepped into the light—an unfortunate fact that would please the Hackman attorneys. “I’m more worried about the assault rifle. They aren’t planning to shoot up the equipment, are they?”
“Liam would never do anything like that.”
“Is that the ex-boyfriend? Liam?”
“Yes.”
Sarah shot her a glare. “Do I need to remind you that you’re getting married in four days?”
“It’s not like that. I’ve been friends with Liam for ten years, and I don’t want to see him thrown in jail.”
Sarah hoped to avoid a similar fate. She was about to drag Emily back to the B and B, but their whispering had attracted the attention of the masked men. The one with the semiautomatic pointed the barrel of his weapon in their direction and yelled, “Who’s there?”
“Don’t shoot.” Sarah pushed the bare branches of shrubs aside and stepped into the light of the clearing. “I came here to talk.”
“Hi, guys.” Emily popped up beside her. “It’s me, Emily.”
“Emily Layton?”
“You sent me a text.” She squinted in their direction. “Where’s Liam?”
A man in a faded red parka stepped forward. “He couldn’t make it, but don’t worry. You can trust me.”
As a general rule, Sarah never trusted anyone who said “trust me.” When Emily started to stroll toward the masked men, she caught hold of her arm. “Stay close to me.”
“Why?”
A lethal weapon was pointed in their direction; Emily shouldn’t need more explanation. “Do you recognize these guys?”
“Not with the masks.”
Sarah called out, “What’s your name?”
“You can call me Ty.” He might have been smiling. It was hard to tell with the ski mask. “We didn’t expect Emily to have company.”
“I’m Sarah Bentley. I own the B and B and I’ve spent years fighting the oil companies.”
He came halfway across the clearing toward them. “Nice to meet you, Sarah.”
“Stop.” She held up her palm. “I mean it. Not one more step.”
“Fine.” He halted.
“I’m not on your side,” she said, “and I sure as hell didn’t come here to participate in any sort of vandalism.”
“Why are you here?”
“To warn you.