Author's Blurb: Can they conquer the mountains and the past in time to save Hope?
***
Seventeen-year-old Hope Craig is deaf and training
hard to make the biathlon Olympic Team. But when she is kidnapped from the
groomed trails and taken into a remote cabin in the mountains, she must battle
more than the elements to survive.
On the hunt for her daughter's abductor, Colonel Amelia Matheson enlists the help of Richmond Morgan, a local Sheriff who once hurt her. To find Hope, Sheriff Morgan and Colonel Matheson must untangle a web of secrets, including their own.
Using her wits and skills, Hope sets out to escape the mountains and save the man her mother had sent to rescue her—a man who is not who he appears to be.
On the hunt for her daughter's abductor, Colonel Amelia Matheson enlists the help of Richmond Morgan, a local Sheriff who once hurt her. To find Hope, Sheriff Morgan and Colonel Matheson must untangle a web of secrets, including their own.
Using her wits and skills, Hope sets out to escape the mountains and save the man her mother had sent to rescue her—a man who is not who he appears to be.
Excerpt
Quest
loved the serenity and beauty of winter with as much passion as she loved
skiing and shooting.
Her
skis glided on the trail, packing the fresh snow into two parallel lines every
time she raced down a hill and adding crisscross design to every slope she
climbed. Ahead of her, a cute blond guy with dark brown eyes and a smile that
could melt a glacier, groomed the trail. The vibrations of his machine sizzled
through Quest's body, but as the distance between them grew farther, the
sensation faded away.
Her
rifle bounced on her back, unloaded, a comforting ally in her silent world. Alone
on the trail, Quest didn't bring any ammunition for target practice and didn't
wear her transmitter. Later on, once she rejoined the other athletes, she would
rectify both situations.
To
give her brief reprieves from the white noise she must tolerate in order to
hear, Coach Goldman had requested special accommodations. Thanks to him, Quest had
been granted permission to train in the early morning solitude of the sleepy
mountains, outside the normal hours of operation. She appreciated the
consideration.
As
she ventured deeper into the forested area, the naked trees cuddled closer against the evergreens,
blocking her view of the valley below.
Being invited by her coach to the altitude training
camp at Snowy Tip had been a dream come true. Convincing her mother and
grandfather to let her take the year off and postpone her entrance to Princeton
University in order to train full-time for the Olympic trials had required grueling
efforts and perseverance.
White
clouds formed around her mouth with every breath she took. After two months in Montana,
her lungs had adapted to the lower atmospheric pressure. She no longer felt the
effect of the altitude. The trials were three weeks away. She was as ready—mentally
and physically—as she'd ever be.
Beads
of perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades, quickly whisked away by
the microfiber undershirt she wore like a second skin. Every piece of clothing
and equipment played a role, down to her gloves from which she'd cut off the
tip of the right index finger to better feel the resistance of the trigger when
she fired.
The
flat section ahead curved around a frozen pond. Red markers delimited the
perimeter of the ice surface in case some skiers were tempted to cross over.
A
yellow light reflecting over the white blanket of snow caught Quest's attention.
Pausing, she looked behind her. Two snowmobiles were headed in her direction.
The last one pulled a rake on the ground, mimicking the grooming effect and
erasing her ski tracks. Puzzled by their presence on the trail, she moved to
the side to let them pass. As they approached, they slowed down, stopping a few
feet away from her.
Despite
the cold and wind, the ski masks covering their faces weren't common attires among
the maintenance crew members. One driver stood up. Big and stocky in his black
snowsuit, he looked more like a man than a woman.
Trying
her best not to appear intimidated, Quest glanced back and forth between the
two of them as she tried to decipher which one led the pack. "Is there a
problem, guys?"
The
lips of the closer individual moved. "Hope Craig?"
Only
strangers—and her mother—called her Hope. "Who wants to know?"
He
pulled a gun on her. "No reaching for your rifle. You're coming with us."
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