“Maybe,” Theresa went on. “But her parents are pretty overprotective and I’m getting the suspicion that there’s something more going on. Not that she’s been willing to open up to me about it yet.”
Well, Mandy’s breakdown would have to wait until the storm was over. He got why that kind of stuff might matter to a psychotherapist like Theresa. But it didn’t make much difference to his mission to get everyone home safely. His temples ached as his brain tried to translate everything she’d told him into a workable solution. There were several different towns in the area Zoe could’ve driven to. His options were to wait for them to get back, try to go find them, or just get somewhere with a functional cell signal and try to call Zoe again.
“And you’re at Mandy’s parents’ cottage now?” he confirmed.
“Yeah, Number Eight Cedar Lake, on the far side. Not one of her brother’s properties. I know originally the plan had been for us to stay at your family’s cottage. But Mandy was getting too stir-crazy and said she wanted to be somewhere familiar, so I suggested we move over here.”
Which now put her over forty-five minutes away by truck in weather like this. Though, if the early winter had been colder and the lake had frozen over properly, he could’ve grabbed his snowmobile from the boathouse and been there in fifteen minutes. But, as it was, the risk of hitting a thin patch in the middle was just too high. He ran his hand along his jaw, oddly thankful he’d shaved that morning. Theresa had never liked him in a beard.
Enough talk. He had to make a decision. “Where’s your car?”
“Back home. Zoe picked me up from the bus station.”
“Well, I’m sorry to cut your weekend therapy session short, but there’s a really bad storm coming. Several inches of snow falling this afternoon followed by a bunch of freezing rain tonight. Her parents asked us to bring her home. Emmett called my cell phone, berated me for even letting her come up here without running it by him, and threatened to come up and collect her himself personally if I didn’t bring her home right away.” Then he’d called back a second time and left a voice mail message saying that he’d sue Ash into the ground if anything happened to Mandy. “You two can talk while we drive or pick things up again once we’re out of harm’s way. But a storm this bad could take down whole trees, killing the power and blocking off the roads. I’ll drive around the lake to join you. Then, as soon as Zoe and Mandy get back, we’ll all head out together.”
“I can tell you right now that Mandy won’t want to leave here if she thinks this is something her family is forcing on her,” Theresa said. Her voice was gentle, but there was still an edge to it that made him envision her heels digging into the floorboards. “She wants to be up here. Granted, she wasn’t prepared for losing her phone and internet connection. But that doesn’t mean she wanted to go home. This is Canada. Cottages withstand winter storms all the time. A few quiet days studying by candlelight and heating soup over the fire is probably the best thing for Mandy. More importantly, she needs to be able to decide for herself what happens next. Not to be told what to do. Or pressured into a dangerous drive on short notice.”
“I hear you, but that’s not your call to make,” he said. “Her parents hired Ash Private Security to look after her. They didn’t trust her traveling alone and they don’t much like the idea of her being cut off from the world in a dark and cold cottage.”
“Not even if she thinks it’s what’s best for her?” Theresa asked.
There was the distant hum of a motor outside and it took him a moment to realize it was coming from Theresa’s end of the call. Sounded like Zoe and Mandy were back. Thankfully.
“She’s twenty.” Alex’s eyes rolled. “She doesn’t know what she wants. She’ll probably change her mind the moment we’re on the highway.”
Theresa frowned. Okay, he probably shouldn’t have put it like that. But she was the last person who was going to convince him that what someone thought at twenty was a deciding factor in what they would or wouldn’t do. When she called off the wedding she’d been twenty, he’d been twenty-one and the argument had been such a mess he still wasn’t sure how it had happened. He’d told her he’d decided to drop out of university because, while a full scholarship was great and all, he wasn’t sure he wanted to study medicine. She’d said something about her parents having money problems, and that he needed to grow up, step up and be more responsible. The next thing he knew she was dropping the ring back into his hand.
“Look, I’m not trying to start a fight,” Theresa said. “Zoe tells me you’re really great at the whole bodyguard thing. I’m just asking you to take the time to think through how you’re going to talk to Mandy about this. This is no time for you to just charge ahead and not think about the consequences.”
By which she meant what, exactly?
There was banging and rattling behind her like someone trying to get the porch doors open. He looked past her, but all he could see were the shifting silhouettes of figures behind the glass.
“Hang on,” Theresa said. “They’ve probably locked themselves out. I’ll let Zoe know you’re on the call and then she can take over talking to you.”
“Great. Thanks.” He was almost positive Zoe would side with him.
Alex watched Theresa’s hair swish and fall down her back as she walked toward the door. Her wool socks padded softly on the hardwood floor. The sweatshirt swamped her slender body down to her jeans-clad thighs. A long breath left his lungs. Even more than eight years later and through the unflattering lens of a laptop webcam, she was still every bit as beautiful as she’d always been. Theresa paused at the patio door. There were three figures standing at the large glass doors, all of whom were too big to be either Zoe or Mandy.
They exchanged words he couldn’t quite make out. Then Theresa’s back straightened so sharply it sent fear coursing down his own spine.
“Hey!” he called, hoping the volume on the laptop was up high enough that she could hear him. “Is everything okay?”
The distorted sound of the men shouting crackled through the speakers. They started banging on the glass. Worry now pooled at the base of his spine. Did she have anything to defend herself with? His eyes scanned the room. A fake antique bayonet and decorative sword were crossed over the mantel, but even at a glance he could tell how useless they would both be in a real battle. But she might be able to barricade herself in a room upstairs long enough for him to help her plan an escape.
“Theresa! Listen to me!” His voice rose. “Don’t panic. I can help you protect yourself. But you need to do exactly what I say.”
Theresa took a step back, but her head didn’t turn. The shouting grew louder and more vulgar, with the demand that she open the door. The glass windows and doors rattled and shook like an earthquake.
“Theresa!” He forced his voice to stay clear and calm even as he battled the fear beating in his chest. “I need you to listen to me. Step away from the window. Walk backward to the laptop. Then grab a piece of furniture. Heavy but something you can lift. A small table. A chair.”
She wasn’t listening. Her eyes darted to the weapons above the fireplace.
Dear God, please help me protect her!
Her hands struggled in vain to pull the antique weapons down from the brackets holding them.
“Theresa! Please! Listen to me!”
Oh Lord, please, save her life.
The patio door splintered. Theresa turned and ran toward the laptop. But she’d barely taken a step before the world exploded behind her. Wood splintered. Glass shattered. Wind whipped through the open doorway, hurling snow in with it. Three men ran through in winter jackets, blue jeans and ski masks.
Armed with shotguns.
A scream ripped from Theresa’s lips. Her fingers reached