Stolen Moments. B.J. Daniels

If she could get one of the legs free—

      “Don’t,” he said.

      Her gaze shot up. He wasn’t facing her, but intent on looking through the window opening with what appeared to be some kind of binoculars. Nightvision goggles?

      “Don’t be foolish,” he continued conversationally, still not looking in her direction. “You wouldn’t stand a chance against me.” His voice was low and soft and unthreatening, but the words hit her like stones. “Before you can get up and cross the room, I’ll stop you. Because I won’t have a lot of time to deal with you, it might be painful. So I suggest you just do as I ask. Hopefully, we won’t be here long.”

      She straightened slowly, holding her breath, afraid to make a sound or move too quickly. Who was this man and what did he want with her? Levi stared at him, sure he was watching the A-frame where the helicopter had dropped them off. Waiting. For what? A ransom drop?

      She heard him shift in the chair. She prayed that money was all he wanted. Her father would pay the ransom, even a very large one. Then she would go home.

      Otherwise...she could only bide her time. Wait for him to make a mistake. Even men like him had to make mistakes. And she’d be ready when he did.

      * * *

      THROUGH THE GLASSES, Seth watched the A-frame and the snowy landscape around it. He could see the twin tracks where the helicopter had set down in the snow and the two pairs of boot prints that led up to the front steps of the cabin.

      He waited and watched, trying to nail down exactly what was bothering him. The change of plans. He was supposed to have met Wally at the airstrip. He was supposed to have handed over the woman. Job done.

      But when he’d gone up to see the pilot, he’d been informed that a helicopter would be waiting to take them to the cabin. He’d told himself he was just being overly suspicious. Or maybe his apprehension just had to do with the woman. That she’d reminded him of Shanna filled him with a sense of dread he couldn’t shake off. Returning to Montana after all these years, facing all the memories and regrets, well, that was also taking its toll.

      He squeezed his eyes for a moment to chase away the thoughts. Thoughts of Shanna. Thoughts of this woman. Both were all tangled into a knot of heartache.

      Damn. He’d wanted to be back in Texas, this woman no longer his concern. Instead he was in a cold miner’s shack on a snowy mountainside fighting a terrible sense of déjà vu, as if history were about to repeat itself and, like last time, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

      Had the woman thrown off his instincts so much that he was jumping at shadows? Seth shook his head in disgust. He was going to look like a damn fool when he had to tromp down this mountain to deliver the woman.

      Behind him, she was no longer moving around. He could hear her breathing softly. Had she finally given up and fallen asleep? Or was she sitting, waiting anxiously, wondering what to expect now? Welcome to the club.

      He tried to relax. Everything had gone fine—at least at his end. Better than fine. He had her and all he had to do was hand her over to Wally. So where was Wally? Why had he changed the plan? It was so unlike him.

      Seth scanned the landscape around the A-frame, seeing nothing but trees and snow. Fool. He should be in that cabin right now with a fire roaring, a mug of hot coffee and—

      The A-frame exploded right before his eyes. The flash blinded him as the cabin turned into a fireball. A few seconds later, the blast echoed in his ears. He stared, dumbfounded, struck by that sense of déjà vu. And doom.

      First, the change of plans. Now, this. He stared at the burning cabin, then turned to the woman on the cot, and a jolt of something stronger and much more potent than adrenaline raced through him. Cold, hard fear. Who the hell was this woman?

       Chapter Three

      “Who are you?”

      Levi awoke with a start, amazed she’d actually fallen asleep. Probably the side effects of that drug he’d given her earlier. The sound of an explosion rang in her ears, but only the smell of smoke made her believe she hadn’t dreamed it.

      Before she could move, she looked up to find the cowboy standing over her, yelling down at her, his words making no sense. What had blown up?

      “Who are you?” he asked again.

      She sat up, pulled the scratchy wool blanket to her and gazed up at him, afraid. “What?” was all she got out before he jerked her to her feet.

      “Who the hell are you?” he demanded as he ripped off the blanket and threw it onto the cot.

      “You know who I am,” she cried, staring at him as if he were a madman as well as a kidnapper.

      “Tell me your name,” he demanded from between clenched teeth.

      “Levi.”

      He frowned. “Levi? Levi who?”

      She couldn’t understand what it was he wanted from her or why he was so upset. “McCord. Levi McCord.”

      He released her as if she were a live wire. “McCord? Levi McCord? Not—” He stared at her. “Tell me you’re not related to Senator McCord.”

      Was this some sort of trick? “He’s my father.”

      He swore loudly, raked a hand through his hair, then looked at her again as if he’d never seen her before. “You’re James Marshall McCord’s daughter.”

      “Olivia McCord,” she said almost indignantly. “Levi’s a nickname.” She frowned as a thought buzzed past like a bullet. “But you had to know that when you kidnapped me. Why else ” She stopped, even more confused. -

      He let out a harsh laugh and looked up at the ceiling, still shaking his head. He was a madman. Or he really hadn’t known who she was. Or both. He swung his gaze back to her and cursed, his eyes dark and disturbed.

      She came fully awake with an anger of her own. “Who are you?” she demanded. Her head had cleared some from the short, fitful, exhausted sleep and the rude awakening and the drug he’d given her earlier. “You kidnapped me and you didn’t even know who I was?” What kind of sense did that make? She was even more angry than she had been. The anger felt so much better than the fear. “Talk to me, damn you.”

      “Not now,” he growled as he thrust the flashlight into the backpack and pulled the drawstring closed, his movements hurried, anxious. “We have to get out of here.”

      He stepped to the door, opened it and stood silhouetted against the snowfall, waiting impatiently for her.

      She moved as if sleepwalking to the window opening in the wall and looked out. Below her in the clearing, what was left of the A-frame burned bright in the night. Her heart thudded at the ramifications. They could have been in that cabin!

      “Come on,” he ordered when she didn’t move toward him. “Trust me, now isn’t the time to give me trouble.”

      She turned to look at him, feeling the effects of adrenaline and exhaustion, anger and fear. She didn’t move, just stared at him, determined not to take another step until she had an explanation. “Tell me. Now.”

      He shook his head in obvious frustration. “Let me put it to you simply. Somebody firebombed the cabin because they thought we were inside it. I don’t know how close they are or if they’ve already found our tracks and are headed up this mountain right now, but I think they’re probably not going to give up until they kill us. How’s that?”

      She swallowed hard. “Why would someone want to kill us?”

      “You tell me.”

      He was blaming her for this?

      “But I’m not staying here to find out,” he said before she could respond. “Now get your butt