“Give me my phone,” Emily said, leaning halfway into the front and holding out her hand. “I want to call Jeremy.”
“Not yet,” Sarah interrupted. “Not until we figure out what we’re doing. How about it, Blake?”
He glanced between the two women. It would have been easier to face a dozen Taliban soldiers than to try to talk sense into Sarah and Emily. “I’ll agree to go to the B and B. However, if there’s any sign of disturbance or occupation, we’ll get the hell out of there.”
“Agreed,” Sarah said as she slipped the SUV into gear.
In a few minutes, they were in sight of the heavy wooden stairs that led to the wide porch spanning the first floor. Two lantern-style lamps lit the porch, and another motion-sensitive light came on when they pulled into the parking area in front.
“Are these lights usually on?” he asked.
“Almost always,” she said. “I know they were on when we left.”
He didn’t see any sign of disturbance but intended to use extreme caution. “You and Emily stay in the car. I’ll need the key code for the front door.”
“It’s F-E-R-R-E-T.”
“Ferret?”
“The black-footed ferret is an endangered species.”
Beretta in hand, he left the car.
* * *
SARAH KEPT THE ENGINE running as she watched Blake approach her house. For such a big man, he was light on his feet, almost graceful as he went up the three stairs to the porch. With his cargo pants tucked into his black combat boots and the Beretta in his hand, he looked every inch a ranger, skilled in dealing with bad guys. She didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d faced down four masked men. His cool competence under pressure was a little bit unnerving.
Emily climbed into the passenger seat next to her. “What are we supposed to do if somebody attacks Blake?”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She could barely imagine Blake needing their help. But if she was wrong, if anything terrible happened to him, it was her fault. Sarah had insisted on coming back to the B and B instead of going to a safe hotel. “Open the glove compartment. Maybe he’s got another weapon in here.”
“Why?” Emily asked. “You’re not thinking of going after him, are you?”
“I shouldn’t have let him go in there alone.” Her hand was on the door handle, ready to open it. “Did you find a gun?”
Emily pawed through the glove box. “There’s nothing in here but rental documents.”
Holding her breath, Sarah watched Blake punch the code into the pad by the front door. What if someone was waiting for him on the other side? What if he was met by a barrage of bullets? She couldn’t just sit here like a helpless lump. She cracked the door to the SUV open. “I have to help.”
“Sarah, stop. There’s nothing you can do.”
She glanced over at her lovely, delicate friend. Emily was a pale, blonde princess, the kind of woman who was destined to be rescued by a handsome prince on a white stallion. Not Sarah. She’d always taken care of herself and made her own way in the world. “Lock the doors and keep the engine running. If anybody comes after you, hit the car horn.”
Before she could change her mind, she jumped from the SUV and rushed toward the house. At the same time, Blake opened the front door and charged inside. He must have hit the switches at the entryway because light splashed through the windows on the first floor. There was no sound of gunfire. No shouts. Nothing but the sound of her own footsteps as Sarah ran up the stairs and dove into the house.
Blake stood in the center of the large living room. His face was a mask of chiseled determination. His blue eyes narrowed, and he did not look happy to see her. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might need backup.”
“Exactly how are you going to help?”
She went to the small supply closet behind the sign-in desk, opened the door and found a baseball bat—a security measure she kept in case of troublemakers and had never had occasion to use until now. “I’m armed.”
“Okay, slugger, follow me and stay close. Turn on lights as we go.”
Watching his back, she trailed him through the dining room into the kitchen and the adjoining mudroom, where the outer door was safely locked. She took it upon herself to peek into the large pantry and the walk-in refrigeration unit, even though she couldn’t imagine anyone hiding in there.
“Look for open or broken windows,” he said. “There are only two other doors down here, correct?”
“One at the end of each hallway.”
To the right, there were four bedroom suites, including her private area. Each had a king-size bed and private bathroom. Blake’s vigilance was unflagging as he entered each separate room and searched with his Berretta held at the ready. His single-minded focus reminded her that this was more than a tour of her B and B.
She and Emily had been fired upon. They’d gone over the edge of the cliff to escape. Clearly, the guys in ski masks weren’t with BOOM. Who were they? Why had they threatened her and Emily? They had to be after something. But what? She had the feeling that Blake knew more than he was saying, and she needed to get some answers from him.
When he bent down to examine the lock on a side door that opened onto a deck, she asked, “What are you looking for?”
“This door doesn’t work on the keypad system.”
“Only the front door,” she said. “I lock the others at night. There’s a set of keys in my room and another set in the front desk.”
“I’ll need copies of those keys,” he said.
Before she could ask why, he was striding down the hallway, and she had to run to catch up. At the other end of the B and B was a reading room with computer hookups that linked into a landline phone system. Wi-Fi was unreliable at the B and B, as were cell phones. Opposite the reading room was a game room. At the far end was the largest bedroom suite with an attached parlor.
After they’d checked the final door, she rested the baseball bat on her shoulder and asked, “Is it safe to bring Emily inside?”
He nodded. “It doesn’t look like there’s been a break-in. Just to be safe, I’ll go upstairs. How many bedrooms are up on the second floor?”
“Eight,” she said, “four single and four double. And the third floor is an open dormitory with twelve single beds. It’s mostly used by scout troops and nature groups.”
“What’s your total capacity?”
“I’ve handled forty, but that’s really too many.” She didn’t want to get sidetracked by a discussion of the B and B. “I have a couple of questions.”
“Go ahead.”
When he pulled off his cap, his dark brown hair fell over his forehead. Stubble outlined his chin, and she knew his look wasn’t meant as a fashion statement; he just hadn’t had time to shave. He was undeniably handsome but distant. His eyes were cool as glass.
As he gazed at her, Sarah realized she was still wearing her practical but unflattering wool knit cap with the earflaps. She must look like an idiot with her cap and her snow pants and her baseball bat. She yanked the cap off and made an attempt to fluff her hair. She unzipped her parka. Big mistake. Underneath, she was wearing flannel pajamas with puffy clouds and naked cherubs.
He raised an eyebrow. “Your questions.”
“Right,” she said. “Back at the clearing, how did you stop those guys?”
“They weren’t expecting resistance, and I got