Out of the Storm (Buckhorn, Montana #1) - B.J. Daniels Page 0,75

going?

Was the woman stupid? Collin had her youngest daughter. All he had to do was make one phone call... His eyes widened in alarm. Unless... He quickly dialed his friend’s number. The phone rang and rang. He was starting to panic when Eric answered sounding half-asleep. “Is everything all right there?”

“Fine. What time is it?”

“Never mind. Call me if there are any problems?”

“Right. No problem.”

He disconnected, relieved and yet furious that his leverage hadn’t kept the woman here. “Kate, you are so screwed. You should never have left with Jon Harper. Now I’m going to have him kill your daughter. It will be your own fault.” He reminded himself that that had been his plan, anyway. Not that it mattered. Kate hadn’t known that.

His throat hurt like a son of a bitch, that and his growing panic making it even harder to think. He raked a hand through his hair, wondering how long he’d been out. He had no idea what he was going to do now. Worse, what Kate and her knight in shining armor were going to do. Not go to the cops. If Jon Harper had planned to go to the cops, Collin would already be behind bars. Jon Harper had every reason not to want the law involved, even in Canada. After Kate had seen a cop hand him a note, she wouldn’t be inclined to head in that direction, either.

So, what did that leave?

Collin told himself that maybe all Jon Harper wanted was to save Kate. If so, then he’d head for the border. With a painful laugh, Collin coughed, remembering that he still had her passport. She wasn’t crossing the border. Not unless she planned to tell all. But if she did that, then she would be jeopardizing Jon and her daughter. She wouldn’t do that. It seemed she was screwed.

Collin smiled. Maybe things weren’t as bad as he’d first thought.

* * *

KATE STOOD IN the middle of the hotel’s honeymoon suite looking lost.

“It was the only room available,” Jon said with a shrug as he locked the door and dragged a chair over to prop against the knob.

“It must have been expensive. How did you—”

He didn’t let her finish. He knew exactly what she was asking since she’d seen him slip the desk clerk cash. “I’m not as destitute as I look.”

She held his gaze, and he felt something inside him snap. When he’d realized she was in trouble, he’d known that he’d had no choice but to go after her. The odds weren’t good that he could save her. But time was running out. He had to make sure she was safe before the hitmen hired by the mob turned up. Even as he’d headed for Canada, he hadn’t been sure he was up to saving himself—let alone her. He still wasn’t. The odds were against them both—especially if some of the cops up here were involved in the drug business and had friends in low places.

But looking at her standing there, he knew nothing could have kept him from coming after her. This woman had broken down the barriers he’d built around him, going straight for his heart with her stories about an undying love. She’d weathered twenty years alone, living on hope as if it was oxygen. He had no idea how they were going to get out of this, but he would die to save her.

“You must be exhausted,” he said quietly.

Kate shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “I need to know the truth. Who are you?”

He’d known this was coming. He wished it didn’t have to be under these circumstances. He didn’t want to give her false hope. “Don’t you want to try to get a few hours’ sleep? Or how about some food? I understand they have twenty-four-hour room service.” Her defiant look said she wanted nothing but answers.

“At least sit down. Please.” He softened the last word, seeing the stubborn set of her jaw. He needed to sit down. His leg was aching. He could stand all day at his workbench, but walking especially in deep snow wore him out quickly because of his injury from the car bombing. The flying pieces of metal had nearly torn off his leg. He’d been told he would need more surgeries, but that hadn’t been possible with a bounty on his head.

Kate looked around, found a chair and practically dropped into it. She held her purse on her lap, her knuckles white from the grip