1 Chapter 1: A Remote Mountain Cabin

Blissfully dozing, Natalie Freeman sank into the arms of her masterful lover. Though she could hear the ferocious winds and could imagine the swirling snow, she had no complaints about the raging storm. The inclement made their post-orgasmic moment even more intimate, and she sighed contentedly. Oliver Barton had introduced her to a world she'd once seen as depraved. Now she lived in a state of surrender so sublime, she knew without the unique attention she'd be like a ship without a sail, floating aimlessly on a dark grey sea.

"Just you and me in a luxury cabin on the side of a mountain," he'd promised. "You'll be able to wail your pleasure as loudly as you want, but only with permission of course."

A helicopter flight had deposited them at the luxury cottage nestled on a gentle slope in the middle of nowhere. They'd been left with an array of gourmet food, fine wines, and a plentiful supply of firewood. Both the bedroom and the living room offered a fireplace, and when she heard a profound crackle, she softly smiled.

"Natalie!"

Oliver's urgent whisper startled her, and she opened her eyes to speak when he unexpectedly placed his hand over her mouth.

"Did anyone give you a gift before we left?" he asked, his lips pressed against her ear. "Maybe a piece of jewelry?"

Her eyes grew wide as she lifted the silver locket around her neck. Pulse racing, she remained still as he unhooked the clasp and placed the pendant on the nightstand.

"Get under the bed," he whispered urgently. "Quietly as you can."

"Under the bed?" she murmured, a bewildered frown crossing her forehead.

His finger touched her lips.

"Under the bed!"

He'd breathed the command. Panic rippling through her body, she climbed from between the sheets and wriggled beneath the bed. The wooden floor under her naked body was cold. A shiver shuddered through her, but the sweeping chill may also have come from the fear coursing through her veins. A moment later he was squirming next to her, and seeing a revolver in his hand, she pointed at the weapon with terror in her wide eyes.

"I hope I won't need to use this," he said under his breath.

The words offered little comfort. Though she knew Oliver worked in law enforcement, he didn't like to talk about what he actually did. They were supposed to be having a romantic getaway, and nothing had prepared her for the suddenly terrifying circumstances.

Scary silent seconds ticked by.

Another crackle echoed from the fire.

The door burst open.

A spray of bullets peppered the room.

Oliver's arm gripped her waist.

His hand slipped over her mouth.

The floor beneath her dropped away.

She fell...

Miraculously she landed on something soft and forgiving, his arms wrapped tightly around her. The gunfire had stopped, and though every part of her trembled, she opened her eyes. A dim grayish hue surrendered her, and the bed had given way to a ceiling.

"Natalie, are you okay?"

"No, I'm not f-fucking okay," she stammered. "I just got shot at and the floor gave way. Where's the bed? What the f-fuck?"

"Better the floor gives way than we end up looking like Swiss cheese covered in tomato sauce."

"This is no t-time for your stupid jokes."

"Wrong, this is exactly the time for my jokes," he said, his voice still low, "and I take offense at you calling them stupid."

"Where are we? What's going on?"

"Some not very nice people followed me here."

"Oliver..."

"Everything's okay, you're completely safe."

"The hell I am."

"Just stay put. I'll be right back."

"N-no! Don't leave me! Damn, I'm cold."

"I'm going to get some more light in here, and as much as I'd like us to stay in our birthday suits, that's a really bad idea."

"You have to tell me what the hell is happening."

"I will. In a minute."

"How can you be so bloody calm?"

"Don't go anywhere," he said with a grin, and quickly pecking her on the cheek, he climbed off the strange spongy pad.

As he moved away, she could barely make out his shadowy form, but only a few seconds passed before amber light replaced the grey. Standing in front of an open cupboard, Oliver had his back to her, and beyond him a large opening in the wall appeared to lead into a tunnel.

"What size shoes do you wear?" he called. "Let me guess. Seven?"

"Yes. Seven."

Turning around he started walking towards her carrying a pair of boots and a sealed plastic bag.

"Here, put this on," he ordered, handing her the package, "and you need to hurry."

"Is this a track suit?"

"Yes, make it quick. We can't dally."

"What's the rush?"

"There'll be a helicopter on the way to pick us up. We need to be at the rendezvous point."

"Be where?" she pressed, slipping into the fleecy clothes and discovering a pair of gloves in the packet. "This is really warm. Thanks."

He didn't respond, but returned swiftly to the cupboard to dress, and unzipping the boots, she discovered they were lined in soft wool.

"Oliver, you have to tell me what this is all about. Why were these clothes here? What about the falling through the floor thing? And who the fuck shot at us?"

"Natalie," he said sternly, marching back to her, "you need to stop asking questions and do as I say."

"Whoa, hold on there. Seriously, you need to tell me..."

"No, I don't," he retorted, cutting her off, grabbing her arm and bustling her off the pad. "Come on, we need to move."

"I'm not going anywhere until -"

"Listen to me," he said gruffly, dropping his voice and locking his eyes. "Right now, those shooters are above our heads tearing that cabin apart. If they happen to trigger the floor mechanism, we'll both be dead before you can blink, and if we don't reach the pick-up point in time, we'll be trapped in a snowstorm with bad guys carrying guns chasing us on skis!"

Before she could reply, he clutched her gloved hand and moved through the hole in the wall, pressing a button on the other side. To her shock a steel door clanged into place behind them, and overhead lamps cast a bluish hue through the tunnel. The freezing air sent her teeth chattering, but the warmth of the clothing began to seep through her bones.

"Let's go," he said urgently, marching forward at a speedy clip.

"How far?"

"Far enough."

"What does that mean, and who are you?" she demanded, almost having to run to keep up. "I mean, what are you? Shit. I don't know what I'm asking."

"You'll move faster if you don't talk."

The passage had a slight downward slope, and she realized the tunnel led down the mountain. The journey seemed to be taking forever, but a slowly bending corner led to a solid wall.

"This isn't a dead end," he said hastily.

"Is anything?"

He didn't answer her, but pressed a button just as he had when they'd left the eerie room. The rock slid sideways, and she let out a weary breath of relief. Instead of a blustery snowstorm, soft white flakes fell gently from the sky.

"Come on," he said moving back to her. "We're almost there."

Taking her by the elbow he led her through the gaping exit into a forest. They'd only been walking a short distance when a clearing came into view.

"We've arrived in time," he said confidently, then glanced at his watch. "They'll be arriving any minute. We need to get out of the trees."

"How did they know to come?"

"The floor sent out a signal."

"Oliver! Please. Bullets flying! Trap doors! Tunnels through mountains! A helicopter to the rescue! What the hell is going on? You have to give me something."

"I will, but not now," he promised, and starting off again, he put his arm around her waist and supported her as they trudged through the snow.