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Authors: Josh Lanyon
Tags: LGBT Action/Adventure
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wish you"d waited for the sheriffs.”
56
Josh Lanyon
Chapter Six
The Mountain Inn in Carrizozo was like a lot of motor courts built back in the thirties and forties. At night its blue and pink neon lights beckoned the weary traveler. By day it offered adobe-style cabins with royal blue doors, paintings of Southwest Indian designs on the stucco facade, and shady, juniper-lined walkways.
The pool was bone-dry, aqua paint flecking away in the white-hot sunlight, but the ice machine still worked. Taylor could hear it thumping and rattling outside their cabin window. It was the closest thing to air conditioning the Mountain Inn offered.
Inside the cabin, the red and brown furnishings were ugly and worn. The furniture was battered, but the rooms were clean and the beds looked comfortable.
Of course, anything short of a slab in a morgue looked comfortable to Taylor at that point.
It had taken them two hours to get down the mountain to a fire road. By then Hedwig had been out on her feet. Rescue had come in the unexpected form of a bumblebee yellow Hummer driven by a self-described “rock hound.”
Apparently flash floods were the equivalent of Christmas for lapidaries. When the waters dried, all kinds of goodies could be discovered in the silt. Crowded in the backseat, shoulder and thigh pressed against Will"s, Taylor had listened in a kind of dream state to their bewhiskered savior drone on about fire agates, Mexican opals, Apache jasper, and petrified wood. When Will had asked about flood damage in the surrounding area, the Good Samaritan had been vague but professed a belief that there had been no loss of life.
Dangerous Ground 3: Blood Heat
57
He"d dropped them off in Carrizozo, population one thousand (give or take), a per capita income of slightly over twelve grand, and an open invitation to any and all renewable energy companies looking to invest. Welcome to hell, in other words.
It did have an airport, but it sounded too small for their purposes.
After checking in to the Mountain Inn, Will had handcuffed Hedwig to the bed in the adjoining room of their cabin—probably unnecessary as she was asleep before her head hit the pillow—and he and Taylor had spent the next hour calling rental car companies, ranger stations, and just about anyone they could think of.
“Who calls Cooper?” Will asked.
Cooper as in Assistant Field Office Director Cooper. Their boss. The man who would have a few things to say about a pair of special agents who took it upon themselves to go hunting a fugitive suspected terrorist when their assignment was merely to escort her to LA.
“I will,” Taylor said. “It was my idea.”
“For the last time. You didn"t force me into this. We came up with this plan together.”
“Do you think it makes it better or worse that it took two of us to come up with this scheme?”
“I think we should hold off talking to Cooper.”
“You mean because of the supposed leak to the DEA?”
Will shrugged. “I"m just saying.”
“We can"t stay off the radar indefinitely.”
“I know. But—”
“I"ll tell him we"re following up a lead.”
Will"s mouth opened in objection.
Taylor added, “And I"ll call the office while he"s at lunch, instead of calling his cell.”
“Good thought.”
58
Josh Lanyon
“Easier to ask forgiveness…”
Will was nodding. His own cell rang, and he reached for it, frowning as he listened. “Right. Thanks. Appreciate it.” He disconnected.
“Nemov?” Taylor asked.
“Long gone by the time they got there.”
“We knew that would happen.”
“True.” Will went to the adjoining room and looked in at their prisoner. “She"s still out for the count,” he told Taylor, leaving the door open a crack. “I didn"t know women could snore that loud.”
Will"s mother had passed away when he was six. He"d grown up in an all-male household, which, in Taylor"s opinion, was one reason Will retained such chivalrous ideas about women.
Taylor tugged
56
Josh Lanyon
Chapter Six
The Mountain Inn in Carrizozo was like a lot of motor courts built back in the thirties and forties. At night its blue and pink neon lights beckoned the weary traveler. By day it offered adobe-style cabins with royal blue doors, paintings of Southwest Indian designs on the stucco facade, and shady, juniper-lined walkways.
The pool was bone-dry, aqua paint flecking away in the white-hot sunlight, but the ice machine still worked. Taylor could hear it thumping and rattling outside their cabin window. It was the closest thing to air conditioning the Mountain Inn offered.
Inside the cabin, the red and brown furnishings were ugly and worn. The furniture was battered, but the rooms were clean and the beds looked comfortable.
Of course, anything short of a slab in a morgue looked comfortable to Taylor at that point.
It had taken them two hours to get down the mountain to a fire road. By then Hedwig had been out on her feet. Rescue had come in the unexpected form of a bumblebee yellow Hummer driven by a self-described “rock hound.”
Apparently flash floods were the equivalent of Christmas for lapidaries. When the waters dried, all kinds of goodies could be discovered in the silt. Crowded in the backseat, shoulder and thigh pressed against Will"s, Taylor had listened in a kind of dream state to their bewhiskered savior drone on about fire agates, Mexican opals, Apache jasper, and petrified wood. When Will had asked about flood damage in the surrounding area, the Good Samaritan had been vague but professed a belief that there had been no loss of life.
Dangerous Ground 3: Blood Heat
57
He"d dropped them off in Carrizozo, population one thousand (give or take), a per capita income of slightly over twelve grand, and an open invitation to any and all renewable energy companies looking to invest. Welcome to hell, in other words.
It did have an airport, but it sounded too small for their purposes.
After checking in to the Mountain Inn, Will had handcuffed Hedwig to the bed in the adjoining room of their cabin—probably unnecessary as she was asleep before her head hit the pillow—and he and Taylor had spent the next hour calling rental car companies, ranger stations, and just about anyone they could think of.
“Who calls Cooper?” Will asked.
Cooper as in Assistant Field Office Director Cooper. Their boss. The man who would have a few things to say about a pair of special agents who took it upon themselves to go hunting a fugitive suspected terrorist when their assignment was merely to escort her to LA.
“I will,” Taylor said. “It was my idea.”
“For the last time. You didn"t force me into this. We came up with this plan together.”
“Do you think it makes it better or worse that it took two of us to come up with this scheme?”
“I think we should hold off talking to Cooper.”
“You mean because of the supposed leak to the DEA?”
Will shrugged. “I"m just saying.”
“We can"t stay off the radar indefinitely.”
“I know. But—”
“I"ll tell him we"re following up a lead.”
Will"s mouth opened in objection.
Taylor added, “And I"ll call the office while he"s at lunch, instead of calling his cell.”
“Good thought.”
58
Josh Lanyon
“Easier to ask forgiveness…”
Will was nodding. His own cell rang, and he reached for it, frowning as he listened. “Right. Thanks. Appreciate it.” He disconnected.
“Nemov?” Taylor asked.
“Long gone by the time they got there.”
“We knew that would happen.”
“True.” Will went to the adjoining room and looked in at their prisoner. “She"s still out for the count,” he told Taylor, leaving the door open a crack. “I didn"t know women could snore that loud.”
Will"s mother had passed away when he was six. He"d grown up in an all-male household, which, in Taylor"s opinion, was one reason Will retained such chivalrous ideas about women.
Taylor tugged
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