Wyoming Cowboy Marine. Nicole HelmЧитать онлайн книгу.
she could handle any disapproval she got from Dad as long as she brought him home.
Do you need to?
That internal question stopped her in her tracks. It echoed inside of her, and something desperate clawed at her chest. What if she just got to live her life her way?
No. No, she didn’t know how to do that. She went for Dad’s desk and pulled out one of his ledgers. He worked on them sometimes in the kitchen, so she knew he kept track of supplies bought, money in from the odd jobs here and there and money out on said supplies. And that he would stash cash in between the pages of said records.
She flipped through the first one, pulled out a few hundreds. She had no idea what the going rate was for a fake detective helper, but she’d offer Cameron a hundred up front. If he laughed, well, she could up it.
She glanced at the monitors set up across Dad’s desk. Cameras that kept watch on the entirety of the woods that surrounded the cabin. They were always taping.
She’d already gone through the footage of the day Dad left, and she’d watched what he’d taken and which direction he’d gone, but it didn’t tell her anything. Everything had been usual, ordinary.
Maybe she should show it to Cameron. Maybe he’d—
Her brain stuttered to a stop as two men appeared on the east side of the cabin. Men with weapons.
The front door opened, quiet and with just the tiniest creak she only noticed because she was holding her breath. She looked around the room quickly, but Dad had all of his weapons hidden away.
“Free, guard,” she whispered, but the dog laid happily by the bedroom door, tail swishing calmly. Today of all days her dog was completely failing at every command she usually followed unerringly.
But then Cameron stepped into the room. “Someone’s out there.”
He was warning her. She didn’t know what to do with that so she glanced back at the screen where she saw the two men slowly inching their way toward the cabin.
“They see you?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t think so. I heard them more than anything. I thought it could be your father, but two people seemed ominous.”
She pointed to the screen. “Friends of yours?”
He frowned at the two men on the video, studying them closely. He shook his head. “I know most everyone in Bent, or I did. Those two don’t look familiar. They’re armed, though.”
Again Hilly nodded sharply. In all their years here, in all Dad’s excessive surveillance, they’d never had unwanted visitors that Hilly knew of. She knew he had his reasons for being careful, and she’d never questioned them...to his face.
“You don’t know them?” Cam asked gently.
I don’t know anyone. But she didn’t say that out loud. She studied their faces, trying to find some detail that would give her an idea of what they were after. “Maybe my father sent them. To get me a message.”
“I don’t know that messengers would carry Glocks, or sneak around the woods outside your cabin.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t sneak, per se.”
She spared him a glance, but when he only smiled at her, she quickly turned her gaze back to the screen.
Free started to growl, low in her throat, as if she sensed or heard the approach. “Easy,” Hilly murmured.
“What are you going to do?”
“We’re going to wait. And watch.” She glanced around the room. The cabin only had two windows. One here, facing the west, and one in the front facing the east. “Go close the curtains in the front for me,” she ordered. “Lock the door.”
“Already locked,” he said, even now on his way out front to close the curtains. She watched the screen with growing alarm as the two men conferred about something, and then split up.
Cam returned and Hilly couldn’t think about how much her world had changed in just a few hours. Being in her father’s room, with a man, two other men sneaking around her cabin.
“You might want to get one of those firearms you’re so free and easy with,” Cam said grimly. “I don’t think a locked door is going to keep those two out.”
Hilly broke her gaze from the monitors. She quickly moved through the cabin, gathering the rifle and the revolver, before she returned to Dad’s room and Cameron.
A strange man in her father’s room. She couldn’t fathom it even as it was happening. “I also have shotguns,” she said.
He nodded. “Get them.”
After a brief hesitation, she handed him the revolver and the rifle before she strode to her father’s closet. She knew his shotguns were in a hidden compartment at the back of it, though she didn’t think her father knew that she knew that.
But he wasn’t here, and she was in danger. She turned to study Cam. Was she really going to trust this stranger?
When she heard a rattle at the door, she knew she didn’t have a choice.
Cam studied the unfamiliar guns. He had experience with a wide variety of weapons, so he’d figure them out no problem, but it was still strange to hold another man’s—or woman’s—weapon.
“Shells?” he asked.
“Everything is loaded.”
He raised an eyebrow at her as the rattling on the door became more pronounced. He had certainly walked into something, and completely unprepared at that. It wasn’t a particularly good feeling, but he wouldn’t let that show. He was a former Marine. He knew how to handle a few surprises.
“Who would be after you?” he asked, shoving the revolver in the waistband of his pants much as she had, and testing the weight of the unfamiliar rifle.
“No one,” she said flatly.
He gestured to all the security monitors. “People with this kind of security, loaded guns and refusal to give their names aren’t usually innocent bystanders.”
He watched her expression change as he spoke. A kind of confusion as if she’d never considered how over the top the cabin’s protections were. But then those eyes trained on him, determined all over again. “But you’re inside with me, instead of out there with them.”
She didn’t seem scared exactly, but she did seem concerned and puzzled. If she had a clue what her father’s dealings were—whatever they were—she would have more fear than confusion. She also wouldn’t have gone to the police and she certainly wouldn’t be letting him be in here with her. Not when she was clearly capable of shooting someone.
“What could they want?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head and scowled, reaching behind the monitors and turning them off. She grabbed a tarp-looking thing off the floor and threw it across the screens. “We’ll hide for now.”
“Hide?”
“Well, I’m not going to shoot them.”
“You shot me.”
“Accidentally,” she said, striding into the closet again. She ordered the dog to come and it obeyed. Then she looked expectantly at him.
“What do we accomplish if we hide?”
“Maybe we hear something they say. Maybe they take something and we know what. Maybe—”
A cracking sound echoed through the cabin,