Blood Storm Read online

  “You didn’t bring my bags?” Kate sucked in her breath. “You have to go back. Before it’s too late.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. No one in their right mind would go out in this blizzard. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “If you won’t go then I’ll do it myself.” She threw the blankets to one side. The flannel shirt had crawled to the top of her thigh, exposing a length of bare leg. “Where are my boots?”

  Sam grabbed the covers and threw them back over her. He seemed agitated, though she had a feeling it stemmed more from than her attempt to get out of bed than her determination to retrieve her backpack.

  “Be reasonable. If I can’t get to the plane, no one else can, either.”

  Kate jerked away, wincing with the movement. “You don’t understand.”

  He rolled his eyes upward before expelling a pent up breath. “Okay, okay. If it’s so important, I’ll go back to the wreckage when the blizzard stops. But I want to know what the hell is in that knapsack.”

  “You’re not involved. Let’s keep it that way.”

  “Like hell I’m not. I became involved the minute I brought you into my home.” His voice exploded across the room as he rose to his feet.

  Kate’s eyes suddenly misted over. “I’m sorry. I never intended to cause trouble.”

  He shifted uncomfortably like a scolded child, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “In your defense, I guess you weren’t expecting to be shot out of the sky.”

  She sniffed, offering him a grateful smile. “I don’t remember much about it. After Pete told me to keep my head down, everything happened so fast.”

  “Your assailant knew what he was doing. He hit the fuselage and managed to administer a kill shot to your pilot.”

  A flicker of panic coursed through her. “They’ll be back, Sam. And I can’t be here when that happens.”

  He reflected on her statement in silence. “What did they want, Kate? What’s so important that someone would kill for it?”

  She dropped her gaze. “There’s a lock box in my backpack. I’m supposed to deliver it to someone in Atlanta.”

  Sam stared intently at her downturned head. “Who told you to deliver it?”

  “My dad.”

  “Didn’t you ask him what was in the box?”

  “I couldn’t. He . . . he’s dead. The package arrived the day after his funeral.”

  Sam rose to his feet and paced briskly across the room. His fingers slid through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead before swiveling to confront her.

  “Was your father killed because of this information?”

  Fear and anger battled inside her. Sam had voiced the suspicions she’d tried to ignore. Since receiving the package and her father’s instructions, she realized there was more to the circumstances surrounding his death than was being reported.

  “The coroner’s report said it was an accident. Dad died when he dived into the shallow end of a swimming pool. It broke his neck.”

  “But you don’t believe it was an accident?”

  “He was an excellent swimmer. He would never have made such a mistake.”

  Sam took a deep breath and before releasing it in a low whistle. “So let me get this straight. You receive a posthumous package from your father with a note to deliver a box to some mysterious person in Atlanta?”

  Kate nodded. “The package contained two letters. Dad asked me not to open the box or the second letter. His instructions were very specific. He insisted I contact a woman named Sharon Grant and arrange to deliver the items as soon as possible. I’m supposed to hand them to her personally. I think she might be another scientist. Perhaps someone collaborating with him on a project.” Kate took a deep breath. “Dad wrote. . .if I was reading the letter, he must be dead. I’m sure he knew someone was after him when he mailed that package.”

  Her resolve began to crumble. She immediately felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder. In the next instant, Sam paced restlessly across the room.

  “Are you sure this isn’t something from a James Patterson novel? It sounds pretty farfetched.” His voice roughened with anxiety. “What kind of work did your father do?”

  “He was a biochemist working for a private laboratory.”

  “Which lab?”

  “The Buckman Research facility in Nevada.”

  “Buckman?” Sam’s eyes glittered like liquid mercury. “My God, Kate, that man is dangerous. He’s involved in all kinds of illegal activity.”

  “That’s just hearsay,” she quarreled. “Dad would never work for someone who wasn’t ethical.” Her brows burrowed together. “How do you know about Buckman Labs?”

  Sam turned away. “I may live on a remote mountain top but I still have access to the news when I’m in town.”

  He felt her eyes boring into the back of his head and swung around. “I need to know details, and don’t hold anything back. We could be in big trouble.”

  “I’m tired. Can’t we talk about this later?”

  “Later might be too late. When this blizzard lets up, I want you airlifted off the mountain as soon as possible. You need to report this to the authorities.”

  Terror, stark and vivid, shimmered in her eyes. “I can’t go to the authorities. My dad said . . .”

  “Your father is dead.” Sam refused to let up. “What kind of research was he involved in?”

  The silence lengthened between them until at last she answered. “Preventative vaccines.” Sam arched one brow questioningly. “Against bioterrorism threats.”

  His features darkened. “Start at the beginning.”

  Kate licked her lips before bobbing her head reluctantly. “I might as well tell you everything. Now that you’ve brought me to your cabin, your life is in danger, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If someone killed my father, and attempted to kill me, they’ll come after you, too, as soon as they discover you’ve helped me.” She locked onto his steel blue gaze. “You’re guilty, Sam. Guilty by association.”

  Chapter Six

  Sam accepted her dire statement with little emotion. Or else he was too shocked to respond. Either way, Kate knew she needed his cooperation so it was best to feed him a few details.

  “Four years ago Dad was contacted by Conrad Buckman to work at the lab in Nevada. They were looking for someone with Dad’s particular background for a new project.” Her eyes brightened momentarily. “He was so excited when he got the job. It was an honor to work there.”

  Kate took a deep breath. “Buckman’s lab is dedicated to researching new vaccinations and prevention of incurable disease. I guess since he made his money in pharmaceuticals, it was an obvious direction for him.”

  Sam leveled his gaze at her. “I’ve heard about Conrad Buckman. He’s a radical. Outspoken on the threat of bioterrorism.”

  She nodded. “After the attack of 9/11, he dedicated the Nevada facility to research against acts of bioterrorism and ecoterrorism. Dad couldn’t wait to be part of it.”

  A passion that resulted in his death. Tears threatened to spill over as she struggled to hide them from Sam.

  “Go on,” he urged quietly.

  “I thought it odd when they asked Dad to sign a confidentiality agreement. He assured me it was common practice with research labs but this seemed to go beyond the norm. He couldn’t leave town without notifying Conrad. When I visited him in Las Vegas, the dates had to be approved by Buckman Enterprises. There were other things I should have noticed, too.”

  “That does sound a little over the top. What did your mother think about it?”

  She shrugged. “Mother died when I was six. Dad never remarried. We sort of raised each other.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you have other family?”

  “No, it was just the two of us.”

  She continued her story. “In the beginning, I visited frequently, but when Dad’s workload got heavier, he wasn’t able to arrange time off. He began discouraging m
y visits. And when I called I had to leave voice messages. In the past year, I spoke with him only twice.”

  “It sounds like you were very close at one time.” A shadow crossed over Sam’s face as if he understood. “I’m sure it hurt when he turned his back on you.”

  “I should have tried harder,” Kate nodded glumly. “I got caught up in my own life, focused too much on my job. I always assumed we would get together later. I didn’t realize ‘later’ would never come.”

  Sam’s expression made her wonder if he, too, had suffered the loss of a loved one. After a brief pause, she continued. “I sensed something was wrong. Jeff said he was doing fine, just working a lot, but I knew Dad was troubled.”

  “Who’s Jeff?”

  Kate smiled as she recalled her father’s lab assistant. “Jeff Miller. He worked with my dad. When I couldn’t reach my father, Jeff would always give me an update.”

  “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “Jeff? Of course not.” The words came rushing out after she noticed the cynical lift of his brow. “What makes you think such a thing?”

  “And what makes you protest so much?”

  She scowled at his sarcasm. “Dad mentored Jeff. He’s like family. I don’t know how I would have managed the funeral arrangements without him.”

  Not that it’s any of your business, she added silently. “Jeff was meeting me in Atlanta so I wouldn’t have to see Sharon Grant alone. He’s probably frantic since I didn’t arrive. Are you certain I can’t make a phone call?”

  “Look around, Kate. Do you see a phone?”

  She glared at him resentfully. “I thought you might own a cell phone. I seem to have lost mine.”

  “There’s no satellite signal this far out. Look, I realize you’re used to more amenities than I can offer,” he countered stiffly. “As soon as the storm is over, I’ll radio my base station in Tahoe. They can let your friend know you’re safe.”

  “Thank you.” She crossed her arms, still upset with the situation. Suck it up, Merrill. There’s nothing you can do.

  “You weren’t really going to Reno to gamble, were you?”

  Her cheeks reddened like two apples against her pale complexion. “No.”

  “The Sierra’s are a long way from Atlanta. Why did your pilot plot a course this far north? Didn’t you question the travel arrangements?”

  Kate’s head began to throb again and Sam’s interrogation only made it worse. “Miss Grant said if I could make it to Reno, she would arrange for a corporate jet to fly me the rest of the way.”

  “Who else knew of your flight plan?”

  “I don’t know.” Kate threw the words at him like stones. She was weary of his questions. “You should have been a cop. You sure as hell interrogate like one.”

  He glanced down at his knotted fists. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Someone had your itinerary. Major flight lines avoid my mountain, as do small planes. We get a lot of wind shears around the peaks. Whoever sent the helicopter intended to kill you in an isolated area where the wreckage might never be discovered. It would take a lot of money and power to arrange such an attack.”

  “Conrad?”

  Sam nodded.

  “Why would he kill my dad and send someone after me? That doesn’t make sense. He had unlimited access to dad’s research.” She shook her head stubbornly. “I’ve met Conrad. He might be eccentric but he’s not a killer.”

  “Then why did your father think it necessary to circumvent protocol and ask you to deliver this box?”

  Kate had asked herself the same question over and over. “Dad must have thought the lab’s security was compromised. There are a lot of people working there besides Conrad.”

  “You’re too trusting. The assassin was hired to get rid of you and the information you’re transporting.”

  Kate grew still. As much as she hated to admit it, Sam was right. Someone wanted to prevent her from reaching Sharon Grant. Someone who knew what her father had hidden inside the box.

  “I guess I didn’t think of that.”

  “Who knew about your trip?”

  “Jeff, Sharon Grant, Pete’s charter company, a few of my friends . . . and my employer, of course.”

  “Has anyone at your work been acting unusual?”

  Kate snorted derisively. “Everything about my work is unusual.” She caught his curious glint and shrugged. “No one acted strangely.” To her relief, he decided not to push for an explanation.

  “Let’s back track. It might be easier if we start with who knew about the package. Any other “accidental” deaths related to it?”

  Kate’s face went ashen as she began to piece together the events. “I have to leave. I have to get out of here before they discover where I am. Before they discover you’ve been helping me.” She reached out and touched his arm, barely noticing his odd expression.

  He stood up abruptly, pacing a short distance away. “Calm down, Kate. We have time to work this out. They don’t know you’re alive. Besides, even if they did decide to return to the scene, the blizzard will keep them grounded for a few days. Now back to my question, who knew about the lockbox?”

  She tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “Sharon Grant and Jeff. They’re the only ones who knew about the package from my father.” Her eyes widened as she locked onto Sam’s gaze. “If someone really did kill Dad, they must have discovered he sent the box to me before he died.”

  “That’s a possibility.” Sam contemplated the toe of his boot. “I believe it was someone close to your father. The Grant woman and your friend, Miller, seem the most likely suspects although I’m still leaning toward Buckman but you mentioned this woman in Atlanta was collaborating with your father and your boyfriend was his assistant. Either one would have intimate knowledge of your father’s work.”

  Kate bristled. Was he insinuating Jeff or Miss Grant was behind the attack? “Sharon Grant had no reason to kill me. I was taking the lockbox to her. So that leaves Jeff as the final suspect and I know he wouldn’t harm me.”

  “Try to look at this logically,” Sam scoffed, “without applying an emotional twist so typical with women.”

  She shot him a cold look. Kate prided herself on the ability to see things rationally without letting emotions skew her judgment. This backwoods oaf had crossed the line.

  “You’re wrong about Jeff,” she returned stubbornly. “You’re making accusations about someone you don’t even know.” Including me, she added silently.

  Kate rubbed her eyes wearily. She was tired, and her whole body ached but she wasn’t about to show weakness around Sam. Not after what he’d just said.

  “Very well.” He suddenly rose to his feet. “I’ll try to keep an open mind until after we examine the contents of the lockbox. There’s been enough speculation for one day. Why don’t you try to rest?”

  Kate nodded. That might be the most intelligent thing Sam Holden had said all morning.

  He waited until Kate was tucked under the covers before shutting the door quietly behind him. Sam cast a quick glance over his shoulder and retreated to the kitchen.

  Why the hell did she have to fall out of the sky onto his mountain? Hadn’t he experienced enough trouble in his life?

  She was spunky, he’d give her that. And strong. Most women would never have survived the plane crash, much less thought to seek shelter from the blizzard under a tree. She was smart. Survivalist instincts.

  He shook his head. Did Kate even realize the seriousness of her situation? His mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. Apparently she did because she seemed concerned for his safety.

  When was the last time that happened, Holden?

  He crossed the room to the fireplace. After retrieving a metal poker from the edge of the hearth, Sam stabbed at the glowing embers until a cloud of sparks danced up the flue. He needed a plan. Without radio access for weather updates, it was impossible to know how long the storm would last. It could blow for a week, or clear up tomorrow.

 
; At least the assassin believed Kate was dead and he’d destroyed the mysterious package. There was no reason for him to return to the wreckage.

  That gave Sam plenty of time to airlift Kate off the mountain, and the sooner, the better. She was trouble with a capital “T”.

  Kate stirred, forcing her eyes to half open slits. How long had she been sleeping? It seemed like days. Smothering a yawn behind the back of her hand, she cast her gaze on a small gap in the faded curtains. The light was dimming. It must be nightfall.

  She listened to a male voice humming a familiar tune in the next room. Easing herself to an upright position, she grimaced as her muscles screamed in protest. Sam said he lived with few amenities but surely his cabin offered indoor plumbing. She needed a bathroom. Soon. Kate pushed her legs over the edge of the bed, testing her injured limb for strength.

  “I can do this.”

  She pulled the flannel shirt past her thighs and stood up. Her first step was wobbly. The second sent her spilling across the floor in flurry of flailing arms and excruciating pain. A wave of nausea swept over her as she curled into a fetal position.

  Seconds later, Sam was at her side, his strong arms lifting her from the floor. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, resting her head against his shoulder. “I got dizzy.”

  “My God, Kate, your body is still healing,” he scolded, setting her onto the bed. “Your leg isn’t ready for full weight so you can’t expect to walk around like nothing happened.”

  “I know.” She peeked at him through a veil of lashes. His stern expression had softened into one of genuine concern. “You look much nicer when you’re not angry, Dr. Holden.”

  A sheepish grin erased the remaining lines from his face. “Where were you going?”

  “I was looking for the bathroom. Please tell me it’s not one of those little houses outside with a half moon on the door.”

  A deep chuckle filled the room. “An indoor toilet is one amenity I can offer. I’ll carry you in there.” Before she could argue, he swung her into the cradle of his arms and headed toward the door.