Grace could see blood seeping from Ian’s forehead and the corner of his mouth. She threw herself at him, but the man named Frank caught her and shoved her back against the wall. He roughly slapped a piece of duct tape over her mouth before she could protest. Grace kicked him as hard as she could in the shin.

With an angry curse, Frank drove his shoulder into her stomach and lifted her over his back. He turned, whirling her yet again, and Grace feared she would throw up and choke to death on her gag.

“Wayne, grab Stanhope, and let’s get the hell out of here,” Frank said, walking around the large generator in the middle of the shed and heading out the back door. “Tom, did you get that snowcat running? Where the hell is it?”

Grace lifted her head and saw Jonathan being hauled to his feet, bound and gagged. Jonathan’s assailant, Wayne, picked him up by the shoulder and shoved him toward the woods in Grace’s wake. The other man, Tom, held the gun that was still smoking from the heat of being fired.

Tom was the man who had shot Ian.

But Ian wasn’t dead. She knew he wasn’t. He had opened one eye just a slit and nodded his head slightly just before Frank had carried her out the back door.

Bless Ian. He knew he was no match for three men, two of whom had guns. He was playing possum and would go for help if he had to crawl to the hotel on his hands and knees.

Grace heard the snowcat’s idling engine before she saw it. Frank had carried her a ways through the woods up the mountain behind the hotel. Tom had jogged ahead and was already waiting at the snowcat, holding the door open while Frank unceremoniously shoved her into the backseat. Jonathan came barreling in beside her and was shoved up against her. Wayne followed him inside and finished filling the backseat, crushing Grace against the far wall with enough force to make breathing through only her nose nearly impossible.

Frank sat on the passenger side, and Tom climbed into the driver’s seat and sent the snowcat growling forward before his door was shut. Frank reached into his jacket, pulled out a map, and studied it.

Grace lifted her bound hands and carefully pulled the duct tape off her mouth, working her jaw and running her tongue over her lips to feel for missing skin. She looked at Jonathan. He was staring at her over his own gag of duct tape, his left eye swollen nearly shut, his nose bleeding, and his one undamaged eye leaking tears as he fought for breath.

Grace gently worked the duct tape from his mouth. Wayne tried to push her hands away with the barrel of his gun, but Grace refused to let go of the tape and ended up ripping it from Jonathan’s lips.

Grace batted at Wayne’s hands when he tried to replace it. “He’s suffocating,” she hissed, glaring at Wayne.

“Leave them alone,” Frank said. He turned in his seat and shot Grace a nasty grin. “You throw a mean kick,” he said, rubbing his leg. “You as smart with computers and rockets as they say you are?”

Grace didn’t know whether to nod or spit in his face, so she did neither. Frank’s grin widened. “Just as long as you’re smart enough to behave yourself, Ms. Sutter, we’ll get along fine,” he finished, turning back to study his map.

He squinted at the ski trail they were climbing. “According to the FAA, the crash site is on North Finger Ridge,” he said to Tom, pointing to the left.

Grace looked out the fog-covered window beside her toward TarStone’s summit. The rain had abated yet again, but the low-hanging clouds obscured the view of the peak. She turned and stared at Jonathan.

If Frank was headed for the crash site, that meant he knew about the disks. And that meant Jonathan had been in contact with either AeroSaqii or these men.

“What did you tell them?” she whispered to Jonathan.

He shook his head. “I was only trying to buy us some time, Grace,” he rasped. “I told them we needed the disks to fix Podly’s transmission and that they were up on the mountain. When we talked, Frank promised to give me some time.”

“Yeah, well, time’s up, Stanhope,” Frank said, obviously hearing their conversation. He turned and looked back again. “This storm’s not going away, and the roads out of Pine Creek are closed. I’m on a schedule and not giving you any more time.”

“Then how are you planning to leave?” Grace asked. “What’s the point of going after the disks if you’re trapped here just like we are?”

He lifted the map for her to see. “Interconnected Trail System,” he said in explanation. “According to this, there’s a main ITS snowmobile trail leading down the south side of the mountain. We go get your disks, and then the snowmobile trail takes us to Greenville. I’ve got men waiting there to take us to Bangor,” he finished, turning back to face front.

“The trails will be blocked by fallen trees just like the roads are,” Grace countered.

Frank shot her a glare over his shoulder. “Better hope not,” he growled. “Or it’ll be a long walk to Greenville if they are.”

Grace fell silent and watched out the window beside her, ignoring Jonathan and the three men who didn’t seem at all concerned that kidnaping was a federal crime. She wiggled her hands, putting pressure on the tape, attempting to loosen it before her fingers went completely numb.

She wasn’t dressed to walk over the mountain, no more so than she had been four days ago. At least she had ice creepers this time, and the other men also wore creepers. But Jonathan didn’t even have boots.

He was wearing Virginia’s version of winter shoes, and Grace knew they weren’t waterproof and only lightly treaded. Jonathan would never make it off the mountain if they ended up walking.

But truth be told, Grace hoped the trails really were blocked. Time is what she needed now, time for Grey to come after her.

And he would. That wasn’t even a question in her mind. Just as soon as Ian was able to get himself to the hotel, someone would go after Grey and Morgan and Callum and tell them what had happened. And then look out, Grace thought with a secret smile to herself. Superman would come to her rescue.

She only hoped he would bring a gun and not his sword.

Chapter Twenty

Grey adjusted his sword on his back as he crossed the bridge from Gu Bràth and headed toward the equipment garage. Morgan walked beside him, securing his own sword to his pack and slinging it over his shoulders. Morgan also carried a rifle.

“Dammit, Grey, I’m coming with you. The snowmobile will carry both of us,” Morgan said. “Ian told us there were three men who took Grace.”

“Three moderns,” Grey clarified.

“Moderns with guns,” Morgan countered, stopping just outside the open garage door. “I should be with you.”

Grey shook his head as he worked his fingers into his gloves. “I can travel quicker by myself.” He looked up at the mountain, then back at Morgan. “They stole one of our snowcats because the only way out of this valley is over West Shoulder Ridge. They’ll head for the snowmobile trail once they retrieve Grace’s disks from the crash site. And that’s exactly where I want you and Callum to go now. Take the snowcat, and head directly for West Shoulder Pass.”

Morgan held out the rifle he was carrying. “At least take this,” he said, trying to hand it to Grey.

Grey turned without taking the gun and climbed onto the snowmobile. “I donna want it,” he said, starting the engine. “I’ve no intention of getting into a gunfight with these men. Not with Grace in harm’s way,” he finished loudly over the growl of the snowmobile’s powerful engine.

He gave the machine some gas and edged it out of the garage and onto the ice-covered snow. He stopped when he saw Callum and Ian coming from the hotel. Ian, his head wrapped in a bandage, was holding on to Callum’s arm. He limped toward Grey like a man determined to help rescue the woman he’

d let down.