Chapter 11
Eleven
Sarah pretended to care about the many colors and brands of winter coats, clothing, and thermal undergarments while she listened to Ryder’s fascinating exchange with the short older woman who knew her stuff.
She hoped by being here with Ryder, she wouldn’t run into Malcolm, whom she meant to avoid at all costs.
She had no intentions of going to the city park to meet him. She had nothing to say to him.
Nothing.
Maybe her avoidance had more to do with losing it, because right now she was more than furious.
Just what did he think he was up to? If she could calm down and listen to the reasonable side of her brain, she probably needed to have a conversation with him and point-blank ask about his involvement.
The other problem, though, was she didn’t want Ryder to see her talking to Malcolm. He would ask questions.
And Ryder had no intention of letting her out of his sight.
For her protection or for his, she wasn’t entirely sure.
She hadn’t thought she would enjoy that kind of protective demeanor directed at her, but shoot, she did.
She really did enjoy it and appreciate it, especially from the man delivering it.
Ryder.
Goodwin.
For a no-nonsense girl, her thoughts about this Navy SEAL turned mountain guide sure sounded like nonsense. She couldn’t let Ryder Goodwin get under her skin. Not like that.
Oh brother. She redirected her thoughts to Malcolm, her old boss.
As long as she avoided the city park, she would be okay.
Unless, of course, another intruder broke into Ryder’s home tonight, but Ryder was all over that.
Nobody was getting to her as long as Ryder was by her side.
Yeah, see . . . all her thoughts kept circling back to him.
She smiled to herself.
I made the right decision in pursuing him.
Thank you, Lord, that he’s going to help after all.
She wasn’t that thrilled with his conversation with Maisie, making it sound like he would be gone for four days and it would be a quick trip—in and out.
He’d told her the same, sure, but Sarah wanted to stay on the mountain and search until she found the actual plane and whatever she needed to find.
She was realistic, though. This mission had gotten a late start.
The mountain could stop them in their tracks.
Hangers squeaked on the rack as she pushed each coat aside and then moved to the next rack. Nothing caught her attention because her focus was elsewhere. Sensing someone watching, she bristled and spared barely a glance in her peripheral vision.
Oh no. He’d found her.
Malcolm Hoyt.
I should have known.
Controlling her breaths, she schooled her features.
Used her training like it mattered now. Her old boss was here.
He wore touristy clothes and stood next to two young women who were checking out the sunglasses and ski goggles.
That season was fast approaching, and the nearby slopes would open up with the first major snow.
She’d been holding on to hope that she could avoid him, and since he’d snuck up on her and gotten this close, maybe she really had lost her touch.
If she didn’t go to him now, he’d come to her and unfortunately draw attention she didn’t want.
She tugged one of the parka jackets off the rack—slim and boasting cold-weather protection—then put it back.
Headed over to peruse the hiking shoes. Lifting up one of the boots to look at the sole—would it grip icy patches?
“What are you doing here?” She ground out the words, speaking in low tones so no one except Malcolm would hear.
The teenagers by the sunglasses laughed. Good, keep up the noise.
“You didn’t get my message?” He picked up a wide-toe Keen.
“Why the drama? You sent someone to break into his house. Someone could have gotten hurt or killed.”
“Had to get your attention.” He set the shoe down and moved to the sunglasses, then put a pair on to stare at the mirror, close enough that they could continue their conversation.
“Did you send someone to follow me? Pick me up off the street?”
“That wasn’t me, and I’m here to warn you. Do not go down this path.”
Sarah was hard-pressed not to stare him down as incredulity flooded her veins. She replaced the boot and examined another pair, another brand. “What path, exactly?”
“You don’t think I know what you’re doing?”
“Your warning only serves to confirm what I suspected all along about my brother.”
“You think this is about your brother? It’s bigger than that. I’m telling you that someone has spent decades keeping these doors locked. Some things shouldn’t be found, Sarah.”
She marched over to the other side of the shoes, breathing entirely too hard.
The display wasn’t that exciting. She had to calm her nerves.
From the other side, she sent her old boss a lethal stare.
Malcolm followed her but continued perusing as if he wasn’t following and they weren’t talking.
If anyone cared to pay attention, neither of them would be convincing.
“I’m concerned for your safety,” he said. “That’s all.”
“What about Aaron’s?” She flicked a glance his way.
Then she saw it. Malcolm was scared. She’d never seen him scared, and for a moment her own hands shook. Her throat went dry. She’d never been scared either, not . . . for herself. Not to the level of fear in his eyes.
“You think it’s about justice,” he said. “But what’s buried in those mountains—it’s a reckoning.”
The teenagers had left the sunglasses, and the store was quiet and empty for the moment.
It was big and packed with merchandise, but Sarah feared their whispers could be heard all the way to the counter where Ryder remained.
She couldn’t hear him and Maisie, and maybe that meant they could not hear her and Malcolm.
“Who is going to stop me?” Sarah asked. “Who knows about it and who cares this much?”
“I’ve told you all I can tell you.”
The same line and verse she’d used on Ryder. She knew he meant that he knew so much more, but that was all she was getting. Gee, thanks. “If you told me everything, maybe I wouldn’t need to hike up a volcano.”
Should she continue to trust him? She’d trusted him with her life before. He’d been a mentor and a friend.
“I’m retiring.” His shoulders drooped.
Oh, she got it now. He couldn’t mess that up for himself and Seine, his wife, by telling Sarah anything. Helping her in any way.
He looked at her now, held her gaze, uncaring if anyone might be watching them. “I thought you should know.”
“Because of this?” Whatever this was.
“Partly.”
“I have to go before my friend sees us talking.” She turned.
Malcolm gripped her arm and squeezed. She almost reacted and took him down but reined in her reflexes. “Does he know the danger?” he asked.
Guilt suffused her. “I’ll tell him. I’ll warn him.”
“Please, just leave it. Go live your life.”
Her sister-in-law had been threatened. Her brother needed justice. “If only I could.”
The man’s eyes reflected deep concern, and fear—that he would never see her again?
—as though she would meet Aaron’s end. “I’ll give you one thing.
Let this be enough. Now you’ll know what happened to your brother, and you can shut the door forever.
Project Deliverance.” He turned and walked away, then the doorbell jingled and he was gone.
Project Deliverance.
Her throat constricted and she couldn’t swallow. Well, that was something. An operation to go on, though she doubted she could find any information about it anywhere. It was probably scratched from already redacted files. Aaron was killed over Project Deliverance.
Deliverance from what or whom? If Malcolm thought knowing the name of the classified operation that had brought about Aaron’s death would be enough to stop her, he couldn’t be more wrong.
Snatching the plain brown parka from the rack, she left the hiking boots behind.
She’d already broken in a pair she would use.
She turned to head to the counter. But first she needed to compose herself.
Catch her breath. Calm her pounding heart—Ryder would see something had upset her.
She rounded a corner and walked right into his grip, otherwise she would have collided with that sturdy chest—and she knew exactly how that felt after the mudslide. His hands gently held her arms.
His intensity forced her to look at him. “Who was that?”
She glanced over her shoulder, relieved her old boss had disappeared completely. Couldn’t be seen through the glass windows, even.
“Not now,” she whispered. It wasn’t like she could tell Ryder he hadn’t seen her in a heated, secretive conversation next to the hiking-boot wall. “Let’s get geared up and out of here. I’ll explain later.”
And that gave her time to figure out what she would say, exactly. Ryder already knew or suspected much of it, really almost as much as she knew, except for maybe the danger level, and she was getting a better idea of that.
Half an hour later, supplies loaded in the covered truck bed, Sarah sat in the passenger seat, waiting for what came next.
Self-doubt crept in. What if she should just let it go like Malcolm said?
Project Deliverance. She could read about it or dig into it through old channels and connections.
She didn’t have to hike up that mountain.
Malcolm’s words echoed through her mind.
“Live your life.”
She shook off his words—that he’d come here to try to convince her to stop was confirmation she should keep going. Her brother had learned something—perhaps even known about Project Deliverance.
Still, she was here and had convinced Ryder to help. She knew in her gut that this would never end, and she and Tessa and possibly Jeremy would die—in an accident—for what little they knew. What Aaron had brought upon them and left for them hadn’t been a legacy but a death sentence.
Ryder climbed in and shut his door. Started the engine and navigated away from the back of the outfitter store, down an alley, and onto Main Street. “So, you going to tell me what that was about?”
“I’d prefer to wait until we’re on the mountain.”
“Why? Are you afraid I’ll change my mind?”
“I’m afraid that someone might overhear.”
“You weren’t afraid while in the store talking to that man. Was he the one who broke in last night?”
“What? No. Ryder, listen, this is . . . dangerous. Probably bigger than either of us understands. I have no right to ask for your help. You’re free to step away knowing that it could be a deadly pursuit, but I hope—I pray—that you don’t.”
“You already told me about your brother. I understand your drive to end this. I’m not sure you’re the right person to do it, but here you are, showing up for the job. I respect that. I’m all in.”
There was the hero, Ryder Goodwin, also showing up, like she hoped he would.
Showing up for her. Emotion thickened in her throat for some reason as she watched him so capably steer his vehicle up the rutted path to his house.
Not for the first time, she took in his broad shoulders, his impossibly thick, wavy, sun-streaked shoulder-length hair.
Sunshades covered his intense grays, and maybe, when he glanced her way and caught her staring, she was glad she couldn’t see those eyes and be dumbstruck by them.
She might have realized too late that for someone just sitting in the cab of a truck, her breaths came too fast. When he glanced at her, she knew he’d caught the uptick in her breathing. She couldn’t get anything past him.
And maybe . . . maybe she didn’t want to.
All things considered, spending the next few days with this mountain of a man wouldn’t be the worst thing she’d ever done.
Sarah smiled to herself and pulled her attention from Ryder to stare out the window at the glorious view of the mountain that the two of them were set to conquer tomorrow.