Out of the Storm (Buckhorn, Montana #1) - B.J. Daniels Page 0,84
off, realizing at the same time Gerald obviously did that he didn’t want her to be dead anymore than he wanted her to be with Jon Harper.
“You do realize that you’re going to have to take care of her when this is all over,” Gerald said. “You can’t let her live.”
“I know.” In truth, none of this was going down as he’d envisioned it. Had he actually thought Kate would join him in his misadventures? He sure as hell hadn’t planned to have the rental car break down in Buckhorn, Montana, the home of carpenter Jon Harper, ex-cop and possible husband to his fiancée.
Since then, he’d been winging it. But he knew Gerald was right. Kate couldn’t be freed anymore than Jon Harper could. Both would go to the authorities straight as a bullet. He gritted his teeth at the thought of how stubborn they both could be. Jon Harper had come to Canada to save a woman he supposedly didn’t know from Adam. And Kate...she’d gone with a complete stranger after he’d crawled in her window. The thought made him wince like biting down hard on a rotten tooth.
But could he kill her? He’d done a lot of illegal and immoral things in his life. Murder wasn’t one of them. And this was Kate. Maybe he didn’t love her like a man should love a woman, but he’d wanted her. He’d needed her. Unfortunately, both were still true.
“I’ll take care of it,” he snapped. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on at the hotel or not?” he asked, tired of Gerald keeping him in the dark.
The front door opened, making them both turn. Collin saw Jon Harper first, then Kate and the man behind her with the gun. Kate’s gaze met his. If looks could kill, he’d be a smoldering heap on the floor. Yeah, he thought, I’d be able to kill her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“TAKE HIM DOWN into the basement and tie him up.”
Collin realized that Gerald was talking to him. “Why me?”
“Phil will stay up here with Kate to make sure you don’t have any trouble with Mr. Harper,” Gerald continued. “Everything you need is in here.” He handed him a paper sack from some hardware store.
Collin took the sack and glanced at the closed door the man indicated. He didn’t want to do this. He had a thing about damp, dark places. He felt sweat break out and trickle down his spine. “Gerald—”
“Just do it,” the man snapped.
The last thing he wanted was to go down there. But Collin knew he had little choice. He could just imagine the men’s reaction if he told them about his claustrophobia or his anxiety attacks. After they quit laughing, he’d be lucky if they didn’t tie him up in the basement.
He pulled his gun, motioned for Jon to open the door and go down the steep steps first. A single bulb hung from the ceiling at the bottom of the stairway. The dim light exposed an expanse of cold concrete, stacked boxes, several old washing machines in various stages of dying, along with a lot of other junk and debris. The smell rushed up the stairs, gagging him with the musty damp stench of it.
It was exactly the kind of place Collin abhorred. He felt a shudder as he followed Jon down the stairs. At the bottom, he opened the sack and saw a length of cotton rope and several rounds of duct tape.
In the corner, he spotted a straight-backed wooden chair. “Pull that over here,” he ordered Jon. For a moment, he thought the man wasn’t going to comply. But slowly, the carpenter limped into the corner and drew the chair out into the light. It did Collin good to see that the carpenter wasn’t as tough as he had pretended to be. “Sit.”
“You know you don’t have to tie me up,” Jon said in his gravelly, low voice. It felt eerie down here in the circle of light from the overhead bulb. Beyond the dim light, dark-shadowed shapes hunkered in the corners. “You have Kate. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her life.”
“You already have,” Collin snapped.
“I just wanted to get her away from you before you dragged her into something that could get you both killed,” Jon said quietly. He sounded so measured. Another reason Kate had fallen for this man. There was something solid about him, honorable, trustworthy. Hell, the man sounded like a damned Eagle Scout. All of that, too, wouldn’t be wasted