Mountain Blizzard. Cassie Miles

      “Well, my hearing isn’t what it once was, but I’m pretty sure there was only one voice. And I guarantee that nobody made enough noise to tear down the back door.”

      As Sean herded Emily and her aunt into Emily’s bedroom, he tallied up the possible ways to break into the house. In addition to front and back door and many windows, there was likely an entrance to a root cellar or basement. The best way to limit access to the two women was to keep them upstairs. Unfortunately, it also meant they had no escape.

      From Emily’s bedroom, he peered through the window to the area where the cars were parked. He squinted. “I can see the outline of a truck.”

      “So?”

      “Do you recognize it?” Is that Frankie Wynter’s truck?

      “We’re in the mountains, Sean. Every other person drives a truck.”

      A coating of snow had already covered the truck bed; he couldn’t tell if anybody had been riding in back. But the vehicle showed that someone else was on the property, even if there hadn’t been other noises from downstairs.

      He gave Emily a tight smile. “Stay here with Hazel. Take care of her.”

      “What are you going to do?”

      “I’ll check the doors and other points of access.”

      Her terse nod was a match for his smile. They were both putting on brave faces and tamping down the kind of tension that might cause your hand to tremble or your teeth to chatter. When she rested her hand against his chest, he was reminded of the early days in their marriage when she’d say goodbye before he left on assignment.

      “Be careful, Sean.”

      He tore his gaze away from her turquoise eyes and her rose petal lips. Her trust made him feel strong and brave, even if he wasn’t facing a real dragon. He was girding his loins, like a knight protecting his castle. In the old days, they would have kissed.

      “I should come with you,” Aunt Hazel said. “You need someone to watch your six.”

      “Stay here,” he growled.

      Emily hooked her arm around her aunt’s waist. “We might as well do what he says. Sean can be a teensy bit rigid when it comes to obeying orders.”

      “My, my, my.” Hazel adjusted the embroidered dragons on her shoulders. “Isn’t that just like a fed?”

      Hey, lady, you’re the one who called me. And he was done playing their games. As far as he was concerned, they’d had their last warning. He refused to stand here and explain again why they shouldn’t throw themselves into the line of fire when there was a possible intruder. He made a quick pivot and descended the staircase with the intention of searching the main floor.

      The house was large but not so massive that he’d get lost. First, he would determine if an intruder was inside. The front door hadn’t been opened. The door to a long, barrack-type wing where ranch hands might sleep during a busy season was locked, and the same was true for the basement door and the back door that opened onto a wide porch. Though it had a dead bolt, the back door lock was flimsy, easily blasted through with a couple of gunshots. As far as he could tell, no weapons had been fired.

      When he pushed open the back door, a torrent of glistening snow swept inside. The area near the rear porch was trampled with many prints in the snow. Was it one person or several? He couldn’t tell, but Hazel’s story was true. She’d heard someone back here.

      As he closed the rear door and relocked it, he heard Emily call his name. Her voice was steady, strong and unafraid. Weapon raised, he rushed toward the front of the house. The door was opening. A man in a brown parka with fur around the hood plodded inside.

      Though he didn’t look like much of a threat, Sean wasn’t taking any chances. “Freeze.”

      “I sure as hell will if I don’t close this door.”

      As the man in the parka turned to shut the front door, Hazel came down the staircase. “It’s okay, Sean. This is my neighbor, Willis. He was a deputy sheriff until he retired a couple of years ago.”

      “I was worried, Hazel.” As he shoved off his hood, unzipped the parka and stomped his snowmobile boots, puddles of melted snow appeared on the terra-cotta tile floor. “Couldn’t reach you on the phone, so I decided to come over here and check before I went to bed. Hi, Emily.”

      “Hey, Willis.”

      “Take off those boots.” Hazel pointed to the bench by the door. “Are you hungry? Emily made a big pot of chili.”

      He sat and grinned at Sean and Emily. His face was ruddy and wet. A few errant flakes of snow still clung to his thick mustache. “And who’s this young fella with the Glock?”

      “Sean Timmons of TST Security.” He shook the older man’s meaty hand. “I’m Emily’s bodyguard.”

      Willis was clearly intrigued. Why did Emily need protection? What other kind of security work did Sean do? He pushed the strands of wet gray hair off his forehead and straightened his mustache before he asked, “You hiring?”

      “Part time,” Sean said. “I can always use a man with experience as a deputy sheriff.”

      “Seventeen years,” Willis said. “And I still work with the volunteer fire brigade and mountain search and rescue.”

      “Plus you’ve got your own little neighborhood watch.” Sean had the feeling that Hazel got more attention from the retired deputy than the others in this area. “You have a key to the front door.”

      “That’s right.”

      “Do you mind telling me why you banged on the back door and didn’t let yourself in?”

      “The back door is always unlocked, and it was a few less steps through the blizzard than the front. When I found it locked, I was pretty damn mad. I yanked at the handle to make sure it wasn’t just stuck, and I might have let out a few choice swear words.”

      “Scared me half to death,” Hazel said.

      “I heard you scream.” Willis looked down at the floor between his boots. He wore two pairs of wool socks. Both had seen better days. “And I felt like a jackass for scaring you.”

      She patted his cheek, halfway chiding and halfway flirting. “You’re lucky I couldn’t find my rifle.”

      While he explained that his keys were in the truck, and he had to tromp back out there to find the right ones, Hazel fussed over him. She was a touchy-feely person who hugged and patted and stroked. Sean noted her behavior and realized how similar it was to methods Emily used to calm him, mesmerize him and convince him to do whatever she wanted.

      He glanced toward her. She sat on the fourth step, where she had a clear view of the others in the foyer. Her gaze flicked to the left, but he knew she’d been watching him. A hard woman to figure out. Was she angry or nervous? Independent or lonely?

      Earlier tonight, she’d been on the verge of a panic attack. Her eyes had been wide with fear. Her muscles were so tightly clenched that she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Scared to death, and he didn’t blame her. James Wynter and his associates were undeniably dangerous.

      A muscle in his jaw clenched. Why had she chosen to go after these violent criminals? And how did Levine justify leaving this witness unprotected? The FBI had been chasing Wynter for years, way before Sean was stationed in San Francisco. A chance to lock up Frankie Wynter would be a coup.

      “Then it’s settled,” Hazel said. “Willis is sticking around for some chili and a couple of beers. You kids come into the dining room and join us.”

      “In a minute,” Emily promised as she rose to her feet and motioned for Sean to come toward her.

      She stayed on the first step, and he stood below her. They were almost eye level.

      He