By Elizabeth Lowell
Jill Breck was once simply doing her task as a river advisor whilst she stored the lifetime of the son of 2 of St. Kilda Consulting’s most desirable operators. but if a string of ominous occasions -- together with a mysterious fireplace that kills her great-aunt and a furor within the Western paintings global raised by means of a dozen Breck relations work -- culminates in a danger to her existence, Jill ultimately calls in a favor.
Zach Balfour works part-time as a expert for St. Kilda. although he’s acquired the talents to be a powerful bodyguard, being a bullet catcher is not his most well liked option to spend time. yet Jill is in deeper waters than she’s ever recognized, and she’ll desire his safety; as she quickly discovers, the perils of operating wild rivers are tame in comparison with the hidden risks within the high-stakes video game of artwork accumulating. jointly, Zach and Jill needs to race opposed to time to unmask a ruthless killer hidden within the blue smoke of cash, threats, lies, and loss of life. . . .
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Within the a ways destiny, an indestructible and big canal greater than 2,000 miles lengthy spans the mid-continent of Earth. not anything can mar it, stream it, or have an effect on it in any model. At its western finish, the place it meets the ocean, is an both indestructible constitution comprising 3 degrees of likely empty chambers.
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She was in the river before Faroe could object. Even as she hit the water, she knew she had to get rid of her life vest. It would push her quickly down the rapids and past Lane before she could help him. As the current caught her, she unsnapped catches and let the river whip the vest away. Treading water, she gauged the wild current, the jutting boulders, the holes that could suck people down and drown them. She slanted her body and swam hard at an angle so that the rapids would carry her to the place downstream where Lane had disappeared.
Jill smiled without looking away from the thunder and boil of a river narrowed to half its size by a bottleneck of basalt, a rock as hard as the water was determined to reach the sea. ” And every time it’s different. That’s why she loved it. The water flow from Lake Powell, two hundred miles upstream, changed from day to day. Rocks and boulders on the riverbank got undercut and tumbled into the current. Wherever they stuck, they piled waves in new ways, creating new currents, rips, holes, and eddies.
Jill parked in the overgrown yard, climbed out, and stretched before she went to wrestle with the old padlock that secured the front door. Not that there was much to steal—worn cowhide chairs, an old plank kitchen table, and bunk beds whose “springs” consisted of rope strung between two-by-fours. Despite its rust-pitted appearance, the padlock opened easily to her key. Modesty must have oiled the lock recently. Or maybe she’d rented the cabin out to someone for a time. Cash was always welcome on a bare-bones Western ranch.