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Holiday Mountain Conspiracy
Liz Shoaf
Unraveling secrets is their mission… But the truth can be fatal. After his last CIA assignment ended in betrayal, the covert operative known only as Ned holes up for Christmas in his remote mountain cabin, preparing to trap the men hunting him. But journalist Mary Grace Ramsey reaches Ned first, injured and determined to uncover why someone is after her and her CIA agent brother. Together, can they unravel a conspiracy that goes higher than they ever imagined?
Unraveling secrets is their mission...
But the truth can be fatal.
After his last CIA assignment ended in betrayal, the covert operative known only as Ned holes up for Christmas in his remote mountain cabin, preparing to trap the men hunting him. But journalist Mary Grace Ramsey reaches Ned first, injured and determined to uncover why someone is after her and her CIA agent brother. Together, can they unravel a conspiracy that goes higher than they ever imagined?
LIZ SHOAF resides in North Carolina on a beautiful fifty-acre farm. She loves writing and adores dog training, and her husband is very tolerant about the amount of time she invests in both her avid interests. Liz also enjoys spending time with family, jogging and singing in the choir at church whenever possible. To find out more about Liz, you can visit and contact her through her website, www.lizshoaf.com (http://www.lizshoaf.com), or email her at phelpsliz1@gmail.com.
Also By Liz Shoaf (#u9dd42098-74fd-5437-843c-9fd57a574718)
Betrayed Birthright
Identity: Classified
Holiday Mountain Conspiracy
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Holiday Mountain Conspiracy
Liz Shoaf
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09894-6
HOLIDAY MOUNTAIN CONSPIRACY
© 2019 Liz Phelps
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#u9dd42098-74fd-5437-843c-9fd57a574718)
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Text to speech
“Give me a gun.” Mary Grace held out a hand.
At Ned’s lifted brow, she added, “I know how to shoot.”
“I just bet you do, Miss Mary Grace Ramsey. Do you plan to shoot me the first chance you get?” He didn’t really think she was there to kill him, but he threw out the question to gauge her reaction.
Her mouth dropped open and Ned wanted to believe she was innocent in all of this, but he’d learned a long time ago that an innocent face could hide a host of danger.
“You’re a very rude man, Ned.”
His lips curled upward at the corners. It was an odd sensation. One he hadn’t felt in a long time. But he stilled when Krieger released a low, dark growl.
Ned sprang into action. He scooped Mary Grace into his arms as a bright orange detonation took place at the front of the structure and his cabin shook under the force.
He had a sinking feeling in his gut that this whole mess wasn’t going to end well.
Dear Reader (#u9dd42098-74fd-5437-843c-9fd57a574718),
Ned, my mountain man, appeared in my first two Harlequin books and I received quite a few requests for his story, so here it is. He has an abundance of secrets and journalist Mary Grace Ramsey is the perfect woman to uncover them all. As in most of my books, this one has a Southern flavor and both characters have faithful furry companions with their own canine romance blossoming. I took extra time and care developing both these characters, so please let me know what you think of them.
You can reach me through my website: www.lizshoaf.com (http://www.lizshoaf.com).
Happy reading!
Liz Shoaf
For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.
—1 Timothy 6:10
This one is dedicated to both of my wonderful sisters, Donna Wright and Sherri Stout. You’re beautiful, inside and out, and I’m so blessed God chose you to be my sisters here on earth. Growing up was such fun with the two of you. You bossed me around, but you also protected and loved me like no one else ever could. That still holds true today. I love you with all my heart.
And a BIG thank-you to my editor, Dina Davis, who always catches my mistakes. What would I do without you? I don’t want to find out. :) And to her boss, Tina, who has final approval of all books. There’s a host of people at Harlequin who work on a book from beginning to end. I don’t know all your names, but I want to thank you for the hard work you do to make the finished book possible.
Contents
Cover (#u8491a194-98f2-53ba-850a-b45e5f887a4c)
Back Cover Text (#ucb370ab4-0df0-5b27-adec-9e08fa309077)
About the Author (#ufa41ea6e-ced6-561a-b089-bda05acf7e0c)
Booklist (#ubcd4cca6-9a9d-5103-b7f3-396e4ff93532)
Title Page (#uf59865a3-ca8a-5e04-972c-0a3189ddb88e)
Copyright (#u04b4b97a-7dba-5e60-8610-3f80df172207)
Note to Readers
Introduction (#uaf408ebd-fdd9-5bfe-ae2f-59689917608b)
Dear Reader (#uce59ec70-224f-50ae-9a11-5cfd46cc47f6)
Bible Verse (#u9d8e7d1d-6a0a-5e89-8dc4-fc0212e1b242)
Dedication (#uf513f45d-da67-54e1-afc5-66bf9996ba58)
ONE (#uba3df2b1-4e6a-5ebd-9ffc-5d7d917d0b3f)
TWO (#u612d2233-42e0-5e89-b739-71f4f0cc4b3a)
THREE (#ube3d5448-fac2-5936-b70b-9313e1ae2a67)
FOUR (#uaae39dc2-0165-5fb5-96aa-753337024c3e)
FIVE (#u1c2018f6-b44d-5e97-87cc-1a3e2060b450)
SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#u9dd42098-74fd-5437-843c-9fd57a574718)
Mary Grace Ramsey breathed out a puff of frigid air as she slogged through the deep, freezing snow. Treacherous didn’t even begin to describe this mountain located in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. She prayed she’d be able to find the person she was searching for—a mysterious and elusive man known as Mountain Man. Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when a loud muffled sound resonated from down the mountain behind her. Snow flurries swirled in the air as she slowly turned around, trying to make as little noise as possible. She winced when the snow crunched beneath her hiking boots. In the hushed quiet of the forest, the breaking ice under her feet sounded like a cannon shot.
“Tink, did you hear that?” she whispered.
A tuft of white fur, followed by a pink nose, popped out of the nylon dog carrier she had strapped to her chest. Tinker Bell sniffed the air before ducking back inside her cozy quarters.
“Some help you are,” Mary Grace grumbled affectionately, but she didn’t blame her dog. Mary Grace’s own nose felt like an icicle and her toes were freezing to the point of pain. She owned decent outerwear, but nothing in her closet would have kept her warm in this brutal weather.
She strained to hear something, anything, but the vast forest remained quiet. She turned and slowly moved upward, praying earnestly that she was headed in the right direction. Huge pine trees heavy-laden with snow-covered limbs towered above her like skeletons in the waning daylight. Shivering inside her ski jacket, she prayed she’d find Mountain Man soon—and what kind of a name was that?—because there was a real possibility of her and Tink freezing to death if she didn’t locate the cabin Sheriff Hoyt had described.
It was her stepbrother’s fault that she was in this untenable situation, hiking into the wilderness in the dead of winter. The day after she found the note Bobby had left her, telling her she was in danger and needed to find the Jackson Hole Mountain Man, she’d sensed someone following her. On the way home from a press briefing at the White House that evening, a car tried to run her off the road. It was no accident. She was afraid to contact the police because of the warning in Bobby’s note, advising her not to trust anyone inside the Beltway.
She’d tried repeatedly to get in touch with her brother, to no avail. It was as if he’d fallen off the face of the earth. His boss at Langley would only say that Bobby had requested a leave of absence, but as she well knew, the CIA was in the business of keeping secrets. And as a White House press correspondent for FBC, Future Broadcasting Company, it was her job to uncover them.
Mary Grace stopped, took a deep breath and scanned the area. Visibility had dwindled even more. Nothing but snow, ice and trees surrounded her. A deep, scary-looking ravine dropped off to her left. There was no cabin in sight and she was chilled to the bone. What if once she found the cabin, Mountain Man wasn’t even there?
With no signal for GPS, she pulled her compass out of her pocket and checked it once again. According to what the sheriff had said, she should be close to her destination.
Tinker Bell popped her head out of her carrier and barked, and a split second later, Mary Grace heard the loud report of a rifle shot echo on the mountain. Before she even had a chance to run, fire ripped through her right side and she was thrown toward the deep ravine.
Her eyes closed as she floated soundlessly through the air. It was an ethereal experience. She wondered if this was what heaven would feel like, all light and buoyant. Pain ricocheted through her body when she forcefully hit the side of the mountain and was once again thrown into the air. Time seemed to slow before she finally landed on her back in a deep snowbank. After she caught her breath, her dire situation came flooding back. She was alive, but the killer was still out there. Slowly, she wiggled her arms and legs to see if anything was broken. Everything was stiff, but no bones screamed in pain. Her dog! She’d only bounced off the mountain once and she prayed her precious baby was okay.
“Tink! Tink? Answer me. Are you okay?”
When she tried to push herself up, pain seared her side. She gently dropped back down and ran her hands across her chest. She breathed a sigh of relief when she identified the dog carrier still attached to her body. She dug inside the nylon bag and grabbed Tinker Bell. Her side burned like fire when she lifted the Chihuahua toward her face, but relief overwhelmed her when Tink snorted and growled.
“You’re okay,” she breathed and hugged the dog close to her chest. But for how long, was the question. She touched the clothes covering her right side and groaned when her hand came back covered in blood. The reality of their situation was grim.
She and Tink were stranded on a freezing mountain in the middle of winter. She had been shot. No one knew where they were besides the sheriff. She had no way to call him, and there was a killer out there who wanted her dead. The worst thing was that she didn’t even know why. What has my brother gotten meinto?
She tried to push herself up again, but almost passed out from the pain. She fell back into the snow as darkness blanketed the area. At least she and Tink were no longer easy targets with the night shadows and the huge snowbank somewhat hiding them. Maybe the shooter would leave, thinking she was dead.
