Black Canyon Conspiracy. Cindi Myers

      

      “Get some rest. You want to be alert when we make a break for it tonight.”

      “Will you rest, too?” she asked.

      “I’ll keep watch,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

      He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply of her floral-and-spice scent. She made him feel more vulnerable than he ever had, yet at the same time stronger. A man who had spent his life avoiding complications, he welcomed the challenges she brought. She made him think what the future might look like with her in it.

      She stirred, and he pushed away his musings. She opened her eyes, then smiled. “Does this mean the wonderful dream I was having is real?” she asked.

      “What was the dream?”

      Her smile widened. “It involved a big feather bed and you and me—naked.”

      He indulged himself with a kiss, fighting the urge to take her there on the hard ground. “We’ll have to see about making that dream come true later.”

      Black Canyon Conspiracy

      Cindi Myers

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      CINDI MYERS is an author of more than fifty novels. When she’s not crafting new romance plots, she enjoys skiing, gardening, cooking, crafting and daydreaming. A lover of small-town life, she lives with her husband and two spoiled dogs in the Colorado mountains.

      For the Western Slope Writers of RMFW

      Contents

       Cover

       Introduction

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Extract

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      The sound of the explosion reverberated through the underground tunnels. Lauren tried to run, terrified the rocks would collapse around her, but her legs felt as if they were mired in sand. She fought to see in the murky darkness, choking on rising dust, her ears ringing from the aftershock. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound emerged.

      A strong hand grabbed hers, pulling her toward the light. Gunshots sounded behind them, even as rock chips flew from the wall beside her head, the fragments stinging her skin. The man with her pulled her in front of him, shielding her with his body. “Go!” he commanded, and shoved her harder. “Run!”

      She ran, dodging piles of rubble and fresh cascades of rock. The dim light ahead began to grow brighter. Footsteps pounded behind her and she started to scream again, but it was only the man, his embrace warm and reassuring. “It’s going to be all right,” he said. “You’re strong. You can make it.”

      He sounded so certain that, despite all the evidence to the contrary, she believed him.

      Another tremor shook the cavern, and larger boulders crashed around them. One struck her shoulder, knocking her to her knees. The man pulled her up, into his arms, and kept running, dodging the falling rock, taking the blows and moving on, always forward, toward freedom.

      The cool night air washing over her brought tears to her eyes. She stared at the blurred stars overhead and choked back a sob. The first stars she’d seen in weeks. A taste of freedom she’d feared she might never know again.

      “Can you walk?” the man asked, setting her on her feet, but keeping his arm firmly around her, supporting her.

      She nodded. “I can.”

      “Then, we’ve got to go. We’ve got to stop him.”

      Hand in hand, they raced toward the castle situated improbably in the middle of the Colorado desert. She seemed to fly over the ground, her feet not touching it, only the firm grip of the man’s hand in hers anchoring her to the earth.

      She heard the helicopter before she saw it, the steady whump! whump! of the rotors beating the air. Then they ascended a small hill and stared at the chopper lifting off, soaring into the pink clouds of dawn. No! she silently screamed.

      * * *

      LOUD, OUT-OF-TUNE CHIMES from the doorbell pulled Lauren from the dream—one she’d had too often in the weeks since her escape from the abandoned mine that had been her prison for almost a month. The details sometimes changed, but the results were the same as reality—her captor, Richard Prentice, escaping into the night as she watched, powerless.

      “I don’t think she’s awake yet,” she heard her sister, Sophie, tell whoever was at the door.

      Lauren struggled into a sitting position and checked the clock. Almost eleven. How had she slept so late? “I’m awake,” she called. “Give me a minute to get dressed.”

      She