Excerpt of Colorado Abduction by Cassie Miles

Too impatient to wait until the rotors of the helicopter
came to a stop, Carolyn Carlisle disembarked, ducked and ran
with her laptop in one hand and briefcase in the other. Dirt
and dead leaves kicked up around her feet. Her long black
hair whipped across her face. When she was in the clear, she
gave the charter pilot a thumbs-up signal and the chopper
took off, swooping through the Rocky Mountain sunset like a
giant white dragonfly.

Silence returned to the wide valley, which sat in the shadow
of snowcapped peaks. The surge of joy Carolyn usually felt
when she returned to the cattle ranch where she'd grown up
was absent. Her home, Carlisle Ranch, was under threat.

Last night, there was a fire at the north stable. Across the
pasture, she could see the place where the barn once stood.
The blackened ruin stood out in stark relief against the
khaki-colored early December fields. The stench of burnt
wood tainted the air. All the livestock had been rescued,
thank God. But expensive equipment had been destroyed, and
the sheriff suspected arson.

She marched up the walk toward a sprawling, two-story,
whitewashed ranch house, originally built by her
great-grand-father and added to by subsequent generations.
Her first order of business was to kick her brother's butt
for not calling her last night when the fire broke out.

Dylan had waited until today to inform her, probably because
he didn't want her interfering. The family ranch, running
about two thousand head of Angus, was his responsibility and
he preferred that Carolyn stay in the Denver office of
Carlisle Certified Organic Beef. Usually, their arrangement
worked out well. She liked the city and loved the daily
challenge of running a multimillion-dollar corporation.

But she was still a rancher at heart. As soon as she had
heard about the stable fire, she'd had to be here. Hadn't
even taken the time to change her business attire—teal silk
blouse, black wool suit with a pencil skirt and high-heeled
boots.

As she climbed the three stairs to the veranda that
stretched across the front of the house, she was confronted
by a cowboy with a rifle.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"I work for Longbridge Security, ma'am." He pointed to a
trefoil patch on the arm of his denim jacket.

"Did my brother Dylan hire you?"

"Yes, ma'am." He held open the front door for her.

She considered the presence of a bodyguard to be a good
sign. At least Dylan was taking action. They couldn't really
expect the Delta County sheriff's office to patrol the
thousands of acres they leased for grazing.

Leaving her laptop and briefcase by the coatrack, she went
down the hallway toward her brother's office. The door was
ajar and she heard voices from inside—angry voices.

Her brother's wife of five years, Nicole, stormed from the
room. Her blue eyes were furious. Her jaw clenched. "I'm
sorry you had to hear that, Carolyn."

"I just got here." She liked and respected Nicole.
Considered her more like a sister than a sister-in-law. "I
was just getting ready to yell at Dylan myself."

"Be my guest."

"First, we could go out to the kitchen and have a cup of
tea. Or something stronger if you like."

"Right now I just want to be alone." Nicole went to the
front door. "I'm going to take a ride down by the creek."

The door slammed behind her.

Carolyn's first impulse was to follow her, but Dylan stepped
into the hall. "How the hell did you get here so fast?"

"I chartered a chopper. After you finally got around to
telling me about the fire, I wanted to see for myself that
Elvis was all right."

"Your horse is fine. He's in the corral by the barn."

She'd intended to read him the riot act, but he already
looked miserable. His shoulders slumped. His pale green
eyes—identical to hers—were red-rimmed. "We need to talk."

"You missed Thanksgiving. Again."

"I had to work." And she wasn't going to let him guilt her
out for shirking family responsibilities. Her every waking
thought was devoted to running the family business. "What
happened, Dylan? Was it arson?"

"There's nothing you can do." He stepped back into his
office and shut the door.

Good old Western stoicism. Closed doors all around. Never show emotion. Never share what's really wrong. Never ever cry. That cowboy ethic might have worked in the Old West, but this was the twenty-first century with psychologists on every corner.

In search of a sympathetic ear, Carolyn left the house and
headed toward the outdoor corral attached to the big barn
with stables in the back. If she hurried, she could catch
Nicole who was probably still getting saddled up. Instead,
Carolyn looked for her version of a shrink. Elvis.

Reaching over the top rail of the corral, she stroked the
white blaze on her horse's forehead. His upper lip curled in
the trademark sneer of his namesake. He batted his long
lashes, shamelessly flirting though he was over sixteen
years old and had expanded his girth since she last saw him.

"No more sweets for you, Elvis."

He whinnied in protest.

She tugged a forelock of his black mane. "If you get any
fatter, you won't fit into your white jumpsuit."

As she watched Nicole head out, Carolyn shivered. She should
have grabbed a jacket before she came out, but the weather
was pleasant enough—probably in the mid-fifties—and her
blood still boiled with anger. She had a bad feeling about
Nicole riding alone. It didn't seem safe. Not if there was
an arsonist on the loose. A few minutes later, a man wearing
a jacket with the Longbridge Security patch rode from the
barn to follow her.

She turned her attention to Elvis. The horse listened while
she talked about her worries about the ranch, about Dylan
and Nicole. They'd always seemed like the perfect couple. If
they couldn't make it, what hope did Carolyn have of finding
a mate? She was thirty-three with no special man to warm her
bed. Her last date had been a disaster and…

A noise distracted her. A snap that ricocheted across the
valley. A rifle shot?

Carolyn peered across the field. The bodyguard and Nicole
were nowhere in sight.

The grizzled ranch foreman, Lucas Mann, came around the
corner of the barn, moving faster than his usual bow-legged
saunter. "Carolyn, did you hear that?"

"Hush." She listened hard. A volley of shots echoed from far
away, like pebbles being dropped in a metal bucket. Sound
traveled great distances in the thin mountain air and she
couldn't tell where the gunfire was coming from. "Lucas,
give me your gun."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Lucas handed over his sidearm. Though he looked like an
old-time cowboy, the weapon he carried in his belt holster
was a brand-new Glock nine millimeter.

Carolyn tucked the gun into the waistband of her skirt. "We
need to find Nicole and make sure she's okay. She was headed
southwest toward the creek. I want you to saddle up. Bring
one of those security guards."

"What the hell are you fixing to do?"

"Take care of business." If someone had fired on Nicole, she
needed backup. And she needed it now.

In her high-heeled boots, Carolyn climbed the corral fence,
tore the slit on her wool skirt and slung her leg over
Elvis's bare back. As soon as Lucas unlatched the corral
gate, she rode through. Digging her heels into Elvis's
flanks, she took off across the field.

Riding without a saddle wasn't easy, especially not with the
horse's bristly coat snagging her panty hose and an
automatic pistol digging into her side. She wouldn't have
attempted this ride with any other mount, but Elvis's gait
was as familiar as her own jogging style. Her body adjusted
instinctively to the rhythm of his gait. In her teens, she
and Elvis had won dozens of trophies and blue ribbons for
calf roping and barrel racing in local rodeos.

She clung to his mane and directed him with pressure from
her knees and verbal commands. The chilly December wind
sharpened her tension as she rode toward the area where the
valley merged into rocky hillsides covered with forests of
ponderosa pine.

She hadn't heard any other shots. If there had been a
gunfight, it was over. The damage was done.

What if Nicole and the bodyguard were shot and bleeding? Can't think about that now. She needed to stay focused. That's what I do best—hard-driving, straightforward action.

Through the dusky gloom, she spotted a horseman coming out
of the trees at a slow walk. The bodyguard. He slumped over
his horse's neck. As his horse came to a stop, he slipped
from the saddle to the ground.

She dismounted and ran toward the injured man. His shirt and
denim jacket were covered in blood, his face twisted in
pain. She sank to her knees beside him and pushed his jacket
aside. If she could figure out where he'd been shot, she
could apply pressure and slow the bleeding.

"Nicole." His voice was faint. "Couldn't save her."

Talking was too much of an effort. He needed to calm down
and slow the pumping of his heart. But Carolyn had to ask,
"Was she shot?"

"No." His eyelids closed. "They took her."

She tore open the buttons on his shirt, exposing a raw,
gaping hole in his upper chest. Carolyn took off her suit
jacket, wadded the fabric in a ball and pressed against the
wound. Blood also stained the sleeve of his jacket and his
leg. She had to get him to a hospital.

His hand gripped hers. He forced his eyes open and stared
with fierce intensity. "Nicole tried to fight. Two men. One
of them hit her. She fell. Didn't move."

Carolyn choked back a helpless sob. Oh, God. How could this happen?

"The other guy…" The bodyguard coughed. His fingers
tightened. "He stood guard. He got off a shot. Before I
could get close enough to…"

"You did the best you could."

"I fell off my horse. Couldn't move. Just lay there." It
must have taken a fierce effort for him to mount up. Even
now, he struggled to sit. "Saw their faces. I can ID them."

"Settle down." Though she respected his courage, this man
wasn't going anywhere. "Help is on the way."

She glanced over her shoulder. What was taking so long?
Lucas should have been here by now.

The bodyguard lay back. His chest heaved. Yet he forced
himself to speak. "They said Dylan would pay. He'd pay a
lot. To get his wife back."

"Are you telling me Nicole was kidnapped?"

"That's right. Kidnapped."

His eyes closed and his body went limp. He was still
breathing. But just barely.

Her arms ached from putting pressure on his wound. The
jacket she pressed against his chest was already soaked in
blood. His chances for survival decreased with every minute.

"Don't die." Tears slid down her cheeks. "Please. Please,
don't die."

She heard the sound of hoofbeats approaching and dashed away
her tears. If the men found her crying, they wouldn't listen
to a word she said. And Carolyn needed to take charge,
needed to be strong. Her brother was going to be crazy and
illogical—dangerously irrational.

The bodyguard she'd met on the veranda joined her on the
ground beside the injured man. "I'll take it from here,
ma'am. I'm a medic."

"He's unconscious."

"You did the right thing," he said, "putting pressure on the
wound. Don't worry. We'll get him to the hospital."

She stood and stepped out of the way, relieved that the
wounded bodyguard would be cared for by someone who knew
what he was doing. Turning on the heel of her boot, she
faced four other men on horseback. All of them had rifles.
They looked like a posse from the Old West.

Lucas swung down from his horse and came toward her. "You've
got blood all over. Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay."

"Where's Nicole?"

Her lips pinched together. If she told them Nicole had been
kidnapped, they'd take off to rescue her. They were cowboys,
experienced hunters who were capable of following the track
of a jackrabbit across miles of mountain terrain. If they
located the kidnappers, there'd be a shoot-out.

The paramedic called out. "I need the first-aid kit in my
saddlebag. Somebody call an ambulance."

"You heard him," Carolyn said. "The first thing is to get
this man to a hospital. He's lost a lot of blood."

While the other cowboys followed instructions from the
paramedic, she saw her brother racing toward them, leaning
low over the mane of his horse, riding like the demons of
hell were on his tail. He pulled up and dismounted in a
single move, hit the ground running and yanked her into a
hug. "Thank God, you're all right."

"I'm fine." She could feel the tension in his body. Every
muscle was clenched. Dylan wasn't going to like what she had
to say, but there was no way to get around it.

His eyes were wild. "Where's Nicole?"

"Listen to me, Dylan." She grabbed his arm and held on
tight, hoping she could save him from his own temper.
"Before the bodyguard was shot, he saw two men with Nicole.
He heard them say that you'd pay a lot to get your wife
back. They kidnapped her."

He tore free from her grasp. "I'll kill the bastards."

Exactly what she was afraid of. "Think about what you're
saying. If there's a gunfight, Nicole could be hurt."

He strode a few paces away from her, yanked off his hat and
slapped it against his thigh. "What the hell am I supposed
to do? Twiddle my thumbs while some son of a bitch holds my
wife hostage? Wait for the sheriff to figure this out?"

"Let me handle this. The bodyguard who tried to protect
Nicole is already standing at death's door. I don't want
anybody else to get shot."

"She's my wife. I've got to find her."

Her brother was the most hardheaded man she'd ever known.
There was no point in trying to talk sense into him. "I can
see that I'm not going to change your mind."

"Hell no."

"Then give me your gun. I want all of your posse's guns. It
can't hurt for you to track the kidnappers, but if you're
not armed, you can't start a shoot-out."

"This isn't your call."

"Before Dad died, he told me to take care of my little
brother. And that's what I intend to do."

He threw up his hands. "It's not fair to bring Dad's ghost
into this situation."

She didn't play fair, she played to win. "Dad wouldn't want
you to risk your life. Or anybody else's."

"Fine. We'll leave the guns. What are you going to do?"

"Go back to the house and wait to hear from the kidnappers."
That wasn't enough and she knew it. "And I'm calling in the
FBI."

Two anda half hours later, Carolyn stood on the veranda
outside the house. The porch lights shone on a black van
that had just parked next to the Delta County sheriff's SUV.
This had to be the FBI.