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Relief washed over her, making her knees tremble. That made a horrible kind of sense. Fenn would be okay.
And he’d be on his way. Soon. Hawk had made a serious error in judgment.
Fenn would come for her.
She scowled at Hawk. “There was no evidence you needed, was there?”
“That’s a negative. You’re the prize, Kitty Cat. Thanks for making it so easy.”
His words burned, but Kate refused to let them get to her. Capturing her would be the last easy thing the man ever did.
A storm was coming. This time, it was all her.
36
Fenn’s eyes fluttered open,but the scene before him made no sense. Something dark brown and smelling faintly of feet filled his vision. His fingers twitched. Carpet.
He jerked his head back, which made his head spin as if he were in a G-force accelerator. He raised shaky fingers to his cheek, wiping away a dribble of saliva.
He felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Had he been hit by a truck?
His head pounded. His stomach churned. And the room spun crazily. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and slowly the memories started to come back.
The cookie. Jimbo’s weird jumpiness. The way the room had tilted and gone black.
He groaned, rolling onto his side and doing a careful self-assessment, starting with his fingers and toes, then his hands, feet, arms, and legs. Nothing seemed to be broken or badly bruised.
A small miracle.
He climbed slowly to his knees, head pulsing with every movement. If he drank, he’d guess this was what the worsthangover in history felt like. Another reason he was glad he’d never touched alcohol.
As his head cleared, dread replaced the lightheadedness.
Kate. Where was she?
Adrenaline lit him up like a firecracker. He staggered to his feet and rushed to her room. Just the way she’d left it last night. No evidence that she’d taken a shower or repacked her things.
Hands pressed to the narrow walls of the hallway, he raced down to the lobby. One of the housekeepers, a tiny Inuit woman, was behind the desk. “Where’s Jimbo?” he demanded.
The woman shrugged. “Dunno. I was told he had personal business to handle.”
Fenn’s jaw clenched. Yeah, he’d just bet Jimbo had personal business. And that business had something to do with Kate’s disappearance.
Legs slightly less rubbery now, he raced back to his own room. His stuff was still there, but his M18 and his tactical knife were missing. Like that was going to stop him from going after Steele and his little clerk accomplice.
He kicked the bed, his frustration boiling over. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have let his guard down like that?
He gulped in air, trying to calm himself. He could rake himself over the coals for messing up later. Right now, Kate needed a hero.
He crossed to the window over the tiny built-in desk, his mind racing. The moon hung low over the horizon, offering welcome illumination. The snow had subsided completely.
He dug in his duffle for the sat phone, lifting a plea to his Savior. “Please, Lord, tell me Steele overlooked this.” If the man even knew Fenn had one.
His hand hit the blocky device. With shaking fingers, he dialed up help.
The phone rang once, twice, three times before Bridger finally picked up.
“Fenn? What’s going on?” Bridger sounded tense.