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Just as the snowmobile was about to make impact, he lunged forward, tackling her out of the way. They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs, the snowmobile missing them by mere inches as it roared past. The driver hit the throttle, making the machine veer across the road. Breaking hard, the driver swung it back to the center of the street, but not before the machine plowed into a thigh-high bank of snow.
Tail lights disappeared around the first corner, the rev of the engine fading quickly.
For a moment, they lay there, gasping for breath, their hearts pounding in unison. Fenn’s arms were wrapped tightly around her, his body shielding hers from the cold and any further danger.
Thank you, Jesus. He lifted a prayer.
As they caught their breath, he couldn’t help but smirk. “You know, if you wanted to get close, all you had to do was ask.”
She punched him, hard, her reply muffled by his chest.
8
Fenn layin the snowy street, ice ruts digging into his shoulder. The smell of engine exhaust lingered in the air, mingling with the arctic chill and making him wonder if he’d stumbled into some kind of post-apocalyptic nightmare. His mind raced, processing their close call.
Kate’s close call.
Should he alert the team? Call them back to the scene?
Before he could decide, she squirmed beneath him, her elbow jabbing into his ribs. “Can’t breathe,” she gasped, her voice muffled by his chest.
He rolled off her, his hands gentle as he helped her to her feet. His gaze swept over her, assessing for injuries. “You okay?”
She nodded, wincing as she rubbed her shoulder. “Bruised, but okay.” Her blue eyes narrowed, scanning the deserted street. “Looks like this is getting real.”
“Copy that. Either those guys back at the tavern are really bent out of shape that you weren’t into them or your note-writer meant what he said about making you pay.”
Her mouth trembled, whether from the intense cold or their close call, he couldn’t tell. “You think it was one of those guys from the tavern?”
“Unsubtle. Unsophisticated, and stupid? Yeah. It tracks.”
“Or it could be whoever left me that note,” she countered, her voice tight.
“Why can’t they be the same person?”
She shook her head, her expression skeptical. “Those morons at the tavern didn’t move like any special ops guys I’ve ever seen.”
“Or that’s what they want you to think. If I was some ex-black ops guy out to finish you, I could pick a worse cover.”
“Or you could take me out in ten different ways that didn’t attract attention.”
The woman had a point.
He wanted this to be easy, to get this investigation wrapped up now. Plus, he still itched to pop the leader––okay all three of them––straight in the face.
Kate held up her hands, her eyes wide. “Whatever. Let’s get back to the hotel. I’ll start my investigation in the morning.”
Fenn sucked in a lungful of freezing air. “Or we can eliminate a couple suspects right now. I say we head back to that tavern and find out who those dudes were. Then we can have a little chat about why they think it’s okay to go around hitting people with snowmobiles.”
Kate rolled her eyes, her arms crossing over her chest. “Oh, great idea, Rambo. And then what? We just show up at their homes and start s-s-shooting?”
The trembling was getting worse. He could feel his own, unprotected face starting to freeze, too. They needed to cover up and get inside.
His anger cooled to a dull simmer. “Okay, maybe not the most thought-out plan. But we can’t just let this go.”
“We won’t. But we need to be smart about this. Flying off the handle isn’t going to help anyone.”
As much as he wanted to charge in, guns blazing, it wouldn’t solve anything. And it might just make things worse.