Wyoming Mountain Escape by Laura Scott (types of ebook readers .TXT) 📗

the assailant on the mountain didn’t have them and neither did the guy who broke into the cabin. As much as they think they’re professionals, they wouldn’t have lasted long in Afghanistan.”

Slade eyed him thoughtfully. “You served over there?”

Duncan nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

She slid into the back seat of the SUV, followed by Duncan. The two marshals sat in front, and as planned, Slade drove out of the driveway without using his lights.

A tense silence reigned inside the vehicle, but after ten minutes and reaching the highway without a problem, the guys relaxed a bit.

Chelsey rested against Duncan. He kissed the top of her head, and she tried not to remember the heat of his kiss. Slade made exceptionally good time getting to Jackson. As they headed toward Teton Valley Hotel, Chelsey straightened and looked around.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, maybe dozens of police vehicles still surrounding the place, but everything looked normal.

As if a groom being shot just before his wedding had never happened.

Slade hit the lights as they approached the hotel. Her map must have been pretty good, because Slade found the service drive leading to the loading dock without difficulty.

Tension returned as Slade, Duncan and Chelsey eased out of the SUV. Colt was designated to stay with the SUV and to watch the back door and the road. Large garbage dumpsters were located back there, too, and Chelsey wrinkled her nose at the ripe scent.

The guys didn’t seem to notice. With Duncan in the front, and Slade behind her, they made their way up toward the employee-only entrance. Chelsey punched in the key code and the door opened with a click.

No one spoke as they went inside. Duncan walked in front of her, so she gently pushed him in the direction of her office. The hour wasn’t that late, going on eleven thirty at night, but there was no sound of activity coming from the area of the lobby.

Chelsey fought her instinct to go find out what was going on. Had the hotel lost business after the wedding fiasco? Had people cancelled their reservations because of the violence?

She reminded herself it didn’t matter, because she wasn’t going to be managing the hotel anymore. Upon reaching her office door, she tried the knob, belatedly realizing she didn’t have a key.

What bride carried her keys down the aisle?

The door was locked. She looked up at Duncan in horror. He glanced at Slade and nodded. The US marshal nudged her aside then pulled some tools out of his pocket and went to work.

She’d never watched anyone pick a lock before and was impressed at how easy Slade made it look. A minute later, he pushed the office door open. Duncan went in first, with Chelsey directly behind him.

Not until Slade closed the door behind him did Duncan use the penlight Ranger Paul Davidson had given him. He made a wide arc with the light, verifying there was no one else in the office.

Eerily, the place looked as if she’d just left it. Maybe Trish was waiting for her to return. Chelsey instinctively moved to her desk and the stack of folders sitting off to the right. She lifted them, searching for the yellow honeymoon folder that she remembered Brett tucking under the pile.

It was gone.

“What’s wrong?” Duncan whispered.

“The folder isn’t where I expected it to be.” Her stomach knotted painfully, and she quickly began to search the entire desktop.

The folder had to be here, it just had to be!

“Which room was Brett using?” Duncan asked. “I can check the place out while you keep searching here.”

“Room 112, but I don’t have a key and I don’t think your lock picks will work on the room doors.” She shifted another stack of papers aside. “I know the folder is here somewhere.”

“Should I check the file drawers?” Slade offered.

She shook her head, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. “Duncan? Shine your light here, please.”

Duncan came up to stand behind her, so that she could see her desk. A glint of yellow caught her eye and she shoved the pad of paper aside and uncovered the folder. “Got it.”

“Let’s see what’s inside.” Slade came up to stand beside her. Duncan kept the narrow beam of the flashlight centered on the folder as she opened it up.

The photograph on top was an ad for an exclusive honeymoon resort. She shoved it aside without a second glance, riffling through the rest of the contents. It wasn’t until the back of the folder that she found two photographs.

The picture was a little grainy, but not enough that she couldn’t make out two men standing in a large building filled with boxes that appeared to be labeled with the Coyote Creek Construction logo. One man, a guy who looked vaguely like the picture of Anthony Nettles, held a gun and was clearly threatening the other man who she now recognized as Roland Perry. The second picture showed the man with the gun, and Perry lying on the ground in a dark pool of blood.

“That’s it,” Duncan said in a low, hoarse voice.

“I can’t believe he kept this from us,” Slade whispered harshly. “If he’d have turned this over to me right away, he’d still be alive.”

“Take them.” She stepped away from the desk. “I’m just glad we found them.”

Slade picked up the folder when his cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and quickly answered. “Colt? What’s wrong?”

It was so quiet in the office it was easy to hear Colt’s response. “We have company. Black truck just pulled in.”

Chelsey froze and glanced at Duncan. “I know this hotel like the back of my hand. We’ll find a way out.”

“Colt? Stay out of sight. We’ll be in touch.” Slade disconnected from the call. “All right, Chelsey. Let’s go.”

Swallowing her fear, she gently turned the knob of her office door and cracked it open. For the first time since Brett’s murder, she was responsible for the lives of these two men.

A heavy burden. Please, Lord,