Grace batted at Wayne’s hands when he tried to replace it. “He’s suffocating,” she hissed, glaring at Wayne.
“Leave them alone,” Frank said. He turned in his seat and shot Grace a nasty grin. “You throw a mean kick,” he said, rubbing his leg. “You as smart with computers and rockets as they say you are?”
Grace didn’t know whether to nod or spit in his face, so she did neither. Frank’s grin widened. “Just as long as you’re smart enough to behave yourself, Ms. Sutter, we’ll get along fine,” he finished, turning back to study his map.
He squinted at the ski trail they were climbing. “According to the FAA, the crash site is on North Finger Ridge,” he said to Tom, pointing to the left.
Grace looked out the fog-covered window beside her toward TarStone’s summit. The rain had abated yet again, but the low-hanging clouds obscured the view of the peak. She turned and stared at Jonathan.
If Frank was headed for the crash site, that meant he knew about the disks. And that meant Jonathan had been in contact with either AeroSaqii or these men.
“What did you tell them?” she whispered to Jonathan.
He shook his head. “I was only trying to buy us some time, Grace,” he rasped. “I told them we needed the disks to fix Podly’s transmission and that they were up on the mountain. When we talked, Frank promised to give me some time.”
“Yeah, well, time’s up, Stanhope,” Frank said, obviously hearing their conversation. He turned and looked back again. “This storm’s not going away, and the roads out of Pine Creek are closed. I’m on a schedule and not giving you any more time.”
“Then how are you planning to leave?” Grace asked. “What’s the point of going after the disks if you’re trapped here just like we are?”
He lifted the map for her to see. “Interconnected Trail System,” he said in explanation. “According to this, there’s a main ITS snowmobile trail leading down the south side of the mountain. We go get your disks, and then the snowmobile trail takes us to Greenville. I’ve got men waiting there to take us to Bangor,” he finished, turning back to face front.
“The trails will be blocked by fallen trees just like the roads are,” Grace countered.
Frank shot her a glare over his shoulder. “Better hope not,” he growled. “Or it’ll be a long walk to Greenville if they are.”
Grace fell silent and watched out the window beside her, ignoring Jonathan and the three men who didn’t seem at all concerned that kidnaping was a federal crime. She wiggled her hands, putting pressure on the tape, attempting to loosen it before her fingers went completely numb.
She wasn’t dressed to walk over the mountain, no more so than she had been four days ago. At least she had ice creepers this time, and the other men also wore creepers. But Jonathan didn’t even have boots.
He was wearing Virginia’s version of winter shoes, and Grace knew they weren’t waterproof and only lightly treaded. Jonathan would never make it off the mountain if they ended up walking.
But truth be told, Grace hoped the trails really were blocked. Time is what she needed now, time for Grey to come after her.
And he would. That wasn’t even a question in her mind. Just as soon as Ian was able to get himself to the hotel, someone would go after Grey and Morgan and Callum and tell them what had happened. And then look out, Grace thought with a secret smile to herself. Superman would come to her rescue.
She only hoped he would bring a gun and not his sword.
Chapter Twenty
Grey adjusted his sword on his back as he crossed the bridge from Gu Bràth and headed toward the equipment garage. Morgan walked beside him, securing his own sword to his pack and slinging it over his shoulders. Morgan also carried a rifle.
“Dammit, Grey, I’m coming with you. The snowmobile will carry both of us,” Morgan said. “Ian told us there were three men who took Grace.”
“Three moderns,” Grey clarified.
“Moderns with guns,” Morgan countered, stopping just outside the open garage door. “I should be with you.”
Grey shook his head as he worked his fingers into his gloves. “I can travel quicker by myself.” He looked up at the mountain, then back at Morgan. “They stole one of our snowcats because the only way out of this valley is over West Shoulder Ridge. They’ll head for the snowmobile trail once they retrieve Grace’s disks from the crash site. And that’s exactly where I want you and Callum to go now. Take the snowcat, and head directly for West Shoulder Pass.”
Morgan held out the rifle he was carrying. “At least take this,” he said, trying to hand it to Grey.
Grey turned without taking the gun and climbed onto the snowmobile. “I donna want it,” he said, starting the engine. “I’ve no intention of getting into a gunfight with these men. Not with Grace in harm’s way,” he finished loudly over the growl of the snowmobile’s powerful engine.
He gave the machine some gas and edged it out of the garage and onto the ice-covered snow. He stopped when he saw Callum and Ian coming from the hotel. Ian, his head wrapped in a bandage, was holding on to Callum’s arm. He limped toward Grey like a man determined to help rescue the woman he’
d let down.
Grey wiped the rain from his face with his glove. More than four hours had passed since Grace had been taken. It had taken only minutes for Ian to stagger to the hotel and explain what had happened, but it had taken John Bigelow nearly two hours to travel the six miles from TarStone Resort into Pine Creek to give Grey the news. More trees had fallen across the road, and John had somehow managed to walk the last mile without breaking his neck, to tell Grey that Grace and Jonathan had been kidnapped.
Grey turned his gaze back to TarStone Mountain. The only reason he wasn’t out of his mind with worry was the fact that these men needed Grace for her knowledge.
They wouldn’t harm her. Not intentionally. But all manner of problems could arise, this accursed storm being the greatest threat. If the snowcat broke down or became damaged or was unable to continue through the trail, Grace would find herself walking the mountain again, this time with men who would care little for her welfare if their own survival came into question.
“I’m going with ya,” Ian hollered over the sound of the engine.
Grey shook his head. “You’ll slow us down.”
“I can drive the snowcat,” Ian insisted, determined not to be left behind. “I failed in my duty to protect your woman,” he said in a harsh whisper. “I ran like a worried child because Grace started talking about lightning. I’m sorry to ya, Laird MacKeage, that my cowardice caused our Grace to be in danger. And I’
m wanting to right my mistake.”
He stepped closer to the snowmobile, his hands clasped at his waist to cover their trembling. “The lass feels I’m mad at her for asking us to help MacBain,” he continued, his voice shaking. “It’s…it’s important that she knows I’m not. Let me go with Callum and Morgan. I promise not to get in the way. If I do, ya can leave me up on the mountain.”
Grey wiped at his face again and slowly took a settling breath. He could not leave his man behind. He looked at Ian and nodded, then turned his gaze to encompass Morgan and Callum.
“The four of us and Grace need only return,” he growled, tension lacing his words with anger. “The others, including Stanhope, can rot on the mountain for all I care. No mercy,” he finished, nodding curtly and then punching the throttle on the snowmobile.
Grey moved quickly up the mountain, turning the nimble machine onto the steeply rising ski slope to follow the tracks his stolen snowcat had made.
The men who had taken Grace had a four-hour lead over him, but that was their only advantage. Grey knew the mountain, and his snowmobile was quicker and easier to maneuver than the snowcat. He could travel around fallen trees, over stumps, and up steeper inclines.