The Forbidden Mountain Man Read online

  The Forbidden Mountain Man

  Book 3

  A Sweet Seattle Mafia Romance:

  The Rossis

  By

  Bonnie R. Paulson

  The Forbidden Mountain Man

  I’m a mafia princess running from our rival family. A mafia lawyer in protective custody hiding in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest saves me and doesn’t realize it.

  If we don’t work together, we’ll share a watery grave.

  I’m Stephenie Rossi and I’m involved in a deal gone bad. In a desperate attempt to escape the repercussions of my actions, I ditch my car and flee into the woods. I need to hide information on an informant – me – but I might not make it through the night.

  Carter Johnson is promised safety and peace, but only if he reports on the illegal activities of his clients in Seattle. With only three weeks left until he's set to testify, Carter is sure they're after him. When I show up in his woods, Carter takes it as a sign that he has to run. Now.

  When Carter finds out I’m a key to the investigation and could exonerate him, he has to decide between doing what is right and/or staying safe. Only one will of his choices will save me. But I can’t guarantee that Carter feels the same way about me that I do him. I’ve fallen for him and if I don’t play this right, one wrong step could shatter my heart.

  Be careful, Stephenie Rossi, this is one game you’re not equipped to win.

  Chapter 1

  Stephenie

  Seattle’s rain was legendary. Too bad I couldn’t appreciate it like it probably deserved. Sometimes there were rainbows. Sometimes…

  Peeking out the side window next to the front door at my father’s house, I shook my head. “Well, Papa, I better get home. The rain…” I fluttered my hand, certain he would figure out that my nervousness had nothing to do with the rain and everything to do with the fact that I carried a folder full of information on him and the rest of the Rossi organization in my purse. Okay, not completely about them, but enough about them and other Italian families in the business I would be labeled a traitor.

  What would happen when he found out I was the informant he’d warned everyone about?

  Even my father’s tolerance would be tested. My stomach clenched as I realized – not for the first time – just how dangerous my situation was.

  “Si, Steph, let me know you made it home alright.” He watched me with more intent than normal. I was used to being mostly ignored by Giovanni Rossi or The Rossi as he was known throughout the Italian community in Little Italy and more. I was his third child but the first with his second wife, Stephanie de Borgi. They’d spelled my name with an e and shortened it to keep it from being confusing since I had essentially the same name as my mother.

  According to my mother, before she passed, that had been Giovanni’s idea. Everything was his idea.

  I smiled through my rising bitterness and leaned over, kissing his rough cheek. “I’ll call you when I get home.” The tradition had started sometime after my mom had died. I wouldn’t call him directly. I would ring the soldier phone in the main meeting office and they would let my father know I’d made it home. Or they wouldn’t. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how much he really cared.

  He nodded, but there was something in his eyes that made my stomach feel like it was going to implode. What did he know?

  I wiggled my fingers over my shoulder, gripping my keys like I could use them as a shield to protect me. If The Rossi found out what I was up to, he’d never let me leave. I just had to make it to the car.

  As I got closer to the vehicle, my nerves didn’t lessen. Instead, they seemed to come alive, tingling and zinging in the most unpleasant ways. My father wasn’t a direct killer, but he’d been connected to a few car explosions and a few road runoffs in his day. Family wasn’t off-limits since all the traitors to the Rossi name would be family members. All Rossis were related.

  Disloyalty wasn’t tolerated. Not much was.

  Climbing into the car, I took a deep breath and felt under my seat for my over-sized purse. Everything I would ever need was in that thing. It was probably more of a bag than a purse with its multiple pockets and comparable sizing to a small duffel bag. Even the two-inch-thick crossbody strap left little doubt that its sole purpose was to keep that bag attached to me no matter what.

  Lifting the keys toward the ignition, my hands shook. There was a noticeable point in time where I would have to acknowledge that my actions weren’t loyal to the Italian families in Little Italy. I deserved whatever happened to me. I hoped karma wasn’t working right then.

  Sliding the metal key into the slot, I took another deep breath. If it was my time, it was my time. I couldn’t blame my dad. I did the things I had with the complete knowledge of the things he did. Taking care of traitors was one of those things.

  I turned the key, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping I didn’t wet my pants. When the engine turned over and purred softly while it slipped into idle, I exhaled on a whoosh. I’d made it that far. I’m not sure what I was nervous about there in front of his house, anyway. He wouldn’t draw attention to his home. He would blow up my car in front of a business or in an alleyway.

  Slipping the transmission into reverse, I pulled out of his driveway and onto the sleepy street. Rain drizzled with annoying persistence and I flipped on the wipers to an intermittent pace. I slowed to a stop at the red sign and leaned over, messing with the heat knobs. I wouldn’t get home for another thirty minutes as I drove around the base of Rattlesnake Mountain Area. With the weather like it was, it would most likely take longer.

  Heat blasted from the vents and I finally relaxed into my seat. Tapping my steering wheel, I turned off the main highway, blinking as my headlight beams fought for something to shine on, only catching the rain breaking up the light directly in front of the car.

  The sun had dipped below the horizon an hour or so ago and there was just enough lingering light to remind me of what I had left. As I climbed higher into the mountains, the number of cars lessened. Most people would be at home getting ready for their week. Wasn’t that what I should be doing?

  Instead, I needed to figure out a way to arrange a meeting with the agent I’d been supplying information to. The sooner I got that file out of my possession, the sooner I could breathe easier. He wouldn’t be happy when he saw what was in it.

  Suddenly, I laughed at myself in the empty cab of my car. “Stephenie, you’re never going to breathe easy again.” My chuckle morphed into a sob as I accepted the truth of what I’d started. Giving information to the Federal Bureau of Investigations wasn’t something you could say sorry, I didn’t know and hope everything worked out.

  My tears started anew as my internal warring continued over the things I was doing. Part of me was Rossi and balked at the thought that I was tearing my family apart. The other part of me was De Borgi and righteously angry at the way The Rossi had disrespected my mother with his infidelity and then left her behind like trash.

  One demanded forgiveness while the other deserved vengeance.

  Bright headlights appeared in my rearview mirror and I blinked. They were most likely just trying to see in the dark as well. I wiped my cheeks when they didn’t lessen the beam as they got closer and closer to my vehicle.

  I drove a Subaru Impreza and the car was naturally lower to the ground. The vehicle coming up fast behind me had to be an SUV of some kind with the headlights closer to the same height as my rear window.

  They moved in close behind me, riding my rear as we climbed higher into the mountains on a four-lane highway. He or she could pass me at any time.

  Why weren’t they passing me?

  But I knew. One way or the other, a Rossi, a Capone, or a Bian
chi had found out what I was doing and they were going to intimidate me. I gripped the steering wheel with a white-knuckled hold.

  Trees lined the roadway, climbing into the cloudy sky with a determination to reach the heavens. Their trunks disappeared behind the guardrails and plunged into the earth a good twenty feet or so below the level of the road. The cliffside of the mountains was nothing to mess with.

  In case the people behind me were just trying to get me out of the inner lane, I turned on my blinker and moved to the outside lane. No big deal. I wasn’t a fan of riding that close to the edge of the shoulder, but it wasn’t like there were a lot of accidents up that high. Most people were overly cautious. I was one of them.

  The car followed me, almost bumper to bumper as we careened through the winding road. My breathing increased and I whimpered. I couldn’t kid myself any longer. They were after me. They knew what I knew and what I did. They would hound me until they believed I wouldn’t be able to talk. I would have to somehow destroy the evidence, but how? That wasn’t easy to do in a car being chased while driving in the rain on a mountain-road.

  I leaned forward, pulling my bag out from under the seat and hooking the strap across my chest. I draped it to my left, closest to the door so it wouldn’t chance catching on anything when I tried to get out of the car.

  Reaching down, I disconnected the seatbelt. There was no way, I was staying in that car. I’d seen a movie once where a man had driven his car toward a cliff and at the last minute, he’d jumped. I could do that. Either I jumped and lived or I wouldn’t and I’d die.

  All I could do was hope that the darkness and rain would help me hide as I tried to escape.

  My chest filled with fear. This was the only chance I would have. In about a hundred yards there would be a split in the guardrail. A semi-truck had plowed through that section just a month ago, the remains of the truck had fallen a hundred yards or so to crash along the edge of the mountain. In the newspaper photos I remembered seeing a slight outcropping just past the edge of the road before it shot downward.

  If I were careful, maybe I could hit that shelf when I jumped.

  The car behind me hit me from behind and I shrieked. This was happening and I had no other way out. I only had about twenty yards left. I unlocked the door, taking another shaking breath. Could I do this?

  Blinding lights from the opposite direction bore down on me. I was in the far lane over and they still headed straight for me.

  Ten yards became five and my time was up. If I didn’t turn that wheel right at that moment, I wouldn’t have another chance to try. The car coming at me was determined to cause a head-on collision. They had to be working together.

  Before I could change my mind, I yanked the wheel to the right and my car responded, spinning toward the twenty-foot opening. Twisted metal defined the edges of the railings and I pushed the door open when the tires hit gravel.

  I jumped too soon, hitting the shoulder of the road and rolling under and behind the pieces of the guardrail still intact as the car drove off the side of the mountain. Tucking the bag under me, I lay there in the thick grasses growing up around the edge of the roadway, rain pouring down like someone had punched holes in the clouds overhead.

  A loud bang as my car hit the rocks below was muffled by more rain. I curled my fingers into my palms. My car. I loved that thing. Now it was gone.

  I couldn’t focus on that point. Was I safe?

  The lights of the cars moved into place, highlighting the area above me and to the side where the grass rose the highest but blocked me from being seen. My chest rose and fell as I struggled to breathe normally instead of the huffing and puffing my panic caused.

  A door opened and the footsteps of a heavier man crunched the gravel toward me and then to the side. The whir of a window opening and a deep voice calling out broke up the incessant pattering of the rain. “Do you see anything?”

  “Nah, if she jumped, she didn’t do it in time. There’s no one on that ledge. The car is at the bottom. I can see the lights.” The man turned again, his footsteps carrying him past me and back to his car.

  Someone had been watching out for me, placing me by the guardrail and not on the ledge. I hadn’t thought that they might check it for survivors. Instead, I’d jumped too early.

  “I’ll report the job as complete. Go get us a table at the bar so we have an alibi. I’ll meet you there.” His voice was rough with a slight garbling on the end of his R sounds. I didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t mean much. I was only in The Rossi’s presence most of the time. Not many of the grunt soldiers were allowed in to see him, let alone talk with such an informal cadence.

  As their cars pulled back and then back onto the highway and out of sight, I gasped in shock. My adrenaline faded, leaving behind a surprising amount of pain in my knees, hips, and shoulders where I’d landed and then rolled. Even my palms were scraped raw. I couldn’t see the damage, but I had to be bleeding and I had nowhere to go.

  It wouldn’t be safe to try to hitchhike out of there. I couldn’t use my phone, either. It would have to be a couple days before I could attempt that one. They would be waiting for something to emerge about me in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I had to lay low and stay away from my house and my life and the rest of society, if I wanted to survive.

  If I couldn’t find some place to hole up, they wouldn’t have anything to worry about. I’d die in the cold rain, wishing the entire time that I had stayed in the car.

  Pushing myself to my feet, I ignored the aches and burning sensations all over my body and turned toward the edge of the mountain. My tennis shoes would have to do to get me down. Someone had to have a hunting cabin or something similar out there. I wasn’t sure where, but I would find something.

  I had to. Survival was the name of the game and my Rossi side reared up, refusing to quit.

  No matter what, I had to make it. I didn’t have any other options, if my father would ever get the punishment he deserved.

  Chapter 2

  Carter

  Thud. Thud. Bang.

  I rolled over in bed, blinking into the dark. Pulling myself from sleep, I tried to remember where I was.

  A split second later, I jolted upright in bed as my present situation crashed over me.

  I was in a cabin in the woods and I had no phone, no internet, no way to connect with the outside world. In essence, I was off-grid, holed up in protective custody while I waited for my day in court.

  What had woken me? Another thud from outside grabbed my attention. I jumped from the sheets, pushing against the wall beside the door. If someone opened the panel, they wouldn’t see me first as the door would swing in front of me. I’d have a split second to identify them before I’d be forced to defend myself.

  With what? I looked around. I’d forgotten to grab my gun or anything else. To be fair, I was still trying to wake up from sleeping, rubbing and blinking my eyes.

  A slight chill in the air suggested the fire had gone out. Rain striking the metal roof overhead added to the cacophony of sounds and I realized the thudding and banging might just be the wind outside. Wind would be rare since the cabin I was in was low in a valley, but I couldn’t discount it as impossible, either.

  Neither could I discount the possibility that the families I would testify against could have found me. They’d come out in any weather, determined to silence me forever.

  I took a breath, closing my eyes to eek out a minute amount of sound. As far as I could tell, there was no one in the three-room cabin besides myself.

  A soft rapping on the door reached me through the rain on the roof. Was that knocking? Someone knocked on the door. Then a weak voice carried through the log cabin. “Help. Please, is anyone in there?”

  Someone needed help. Before I could second-guess my actions, I reached down and jerked my jeans from the floor, pulling them on. Still cautious, but aware that any hitman wouldn’t knock on the door and sound like a young woman, I made my way out in
to the big collective room that made up half the house.

  At the door, I paused. This could be my undoing. If I opened this door, there would be no going back. If they were genuinely hurt or needed help, I would have to provide it. If they were out to find me, kill me or bring me back, they would be able to succeed.

  All I had to do was leave the door shut or open it. Two simple choices, both with huge consequences.

  However, I wasn’t the type to turn my back on someone else in need. That just wasn’t me and I wasn’t willing to lose my integrity or myself to fear. I reached out and pulled open the door.

  A cold wind splattered me with rain and I looked onto the dark porch. I’d left all the lights off as I’d made my way to the entryway. My eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light and I scanned the shadows of the covered porch.

  Huddled against the wall beside the door, a small woman had wrapped her arms around her legs in an attempt to stay warm. What I knew about the Italian families in that area, they would never involve their women in the business side of things.

  She’d be safe.

  I knelt beside her, reaching out to wrap my arms under her knees and behind her back. As I stood with her in my arms, I shot one searching glance out into the rain-shrouded forest around the cabin. I wasn’t sure where she’d come from, but at that point, I hoped she’d survive to tell me. The elements could be brutal and hypothermia wasn’t a joke.

  Closing the door behind us, I sank on the couch with the unconscious woman still in my arms. She had definitely passed out. I’m not sure how she found the energy she did to make it to my cabin, but whatever she’d done, it had exhausted her.

  Setting her to the side and resting her head on a throw pillow, I grabbed up some blankets and wrapped them around her. I wasn’t worried about her being wet since it was the cold that would kill her first.

  Moving to the wood box beside the fireplace, I stacked four or five logs into the mouth under the mantel, adding kindling and paper to take advantage of any coals that might still be there. Lighting the paper, I waited for it to take. The wood in the house and stacked against the side of the house on the porch were dry and would burn well for a few weeks, hopefully getting me through the day of the trial. I wasn’t interested in being out there to chop more wood later.