Page 29

Kelly

My friend from the rental shop waits for us in the ski area’s parking lot. We quickly stash our skis and poles in the back of her rusty red pickup, then hop in the front.

“Where we off to?” The fiftyish woman creases her brows, wanting answers, but anything we might say could put her in danger.

“Enterprise.” By way of explanation, I turn to Hunt. “It’s the closest rental place.”

Thirty minutes later, with the Honda paperwork between us, I drive down the mountain.

Jaw clenched, gun ready, the silent G-man watches out the back window.

“How long before they find us?” My foot itches to lower to the floor, but we’re already fishtailing.

While I struggle to keep the new CR-V on the road, he twists in his seat. “Not long.”

The tension grows as I dash toward the border building. Better armed, we can make a run for it, and hide out until reinforcements arrive.

Only a mile from our goal, he hisses and rolls down the glass. “Move it, babe. It’s them.”

I stomp on the pedal. The engine whines. Cranking right, then left, I slide all over the icy pavement.

As the seatbelt bites into my neck, frigid air rushes in, chilling the nervous moisture rolling down my sides.

Crack! God, that was too close. My left mirror gone, pebbles pelt the side of the car.

“Fuck.” Arm braced against the door, Scott leans out the window, steadies his weapon, and returns fire.

I only took my eyes off the road for a second. Dammit, not the ditch. Not now. The tires skid sideways. All at once, the treads catch on the deeper-packed snow, and we lurch forward.

Unable to take my eyes off the highway, I ask, “Did we lose them?”

Hunter ducks back in the vehicle. “Not sure. Keep doing what you’re doing. We’re almost there.” Tone steady, he rests his palm on my thigh.

Grounded by his firm hand, drenched in sweat, I plow through the stoplight, slam on my brakes, and screech to a stop in front of the border building. Fingers numb, I unclench the wheel while wooshing out a long-held breath.

Holy crap, we made it. Inside the border building, the cat skitters under the desk.

“What’s going on?” Jeremy jumps up, eyes widening.

“No time. They could be here any second.” Safe unlocked, I toss firearms, bullets, and vests on the table. “Have you heard from Rob?”

“No, nothing.” The part-time agent stares, slack-jawed, his face unreadable.

Scott steps away from the front window. Stuffing his pockets, he grabs a rifle. “We were never here. Understood?”

The farmer nods.

Snatching the rest of our stuff, I give him a quick peck on the cheek, then bolt outside.

At the open hatch, I throw in our weapons and shut it hard. “Get out. I’m driving.”

The FBI agent opens his mouth and snaps it closed. Smart man. He sprints around the hood and drops into the passenger seat.

While we were inside, the snowflakes doubled in size and now fall twice as fast.

“Check the forecast, would ya?” I press the ignition.

My partner ducks and squints up at the threatening gray blanket of clouds. “Shit.”

He pulls out his phone. “Heavy snowfall. Over an inch an hour. Total accumulation two to three feet, depending on the elevation.”

As I ease onto the county road, I creep forward to the beat of the wipers. Thump-thump, scraaaape. Thump-thump, scraaaape. No one, not even a terrorist, would venture out in this mess.

“Anyone following us?” The heater blasts my face as I lick my dry lips and risk a glance over the cup holder.

Game face on, Hunt’s hands rest in his lap, his shoulders neutral. “Not a soul. Can I ask where we’re going?”

“Dante’s cabin, but first, we’ll need supplies. Can you hook my phone up to Bluetooth?”

One rushed call later, we beg Walmart to stay open. By the time we stow the survival gear into our new backpacks, six more inches have fallen. Visibility? Zero.

The trip takes four times longer than it should. At the base of the incline, I stare up at the endless white and question my sanity.

My voice comes out hoarse. “I’m not sure we can make it.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, the worried man exhales. “Too late now, babe.”

With the blizzard swirling around him, he yanks up the vehicle’s frozen rear access. We shoulder our packs, rifles slung for marching.

Before stepping out, he cups my face, pressing a warm kiss to my chilled lips. “You got this.”

I hope so.

The wind howls as we trudge uphill. Sharp pellets bite my exposed skin. My cheap boots leak, turning my toes into ice cubes. Every step a battle, my damaged ribs screaming, I grab onto branches, desperate to stay upright.

Don’t slip. Keep moving. I lift one boot, then the other, reciting my mantra.

In a clearing by a rock I may recognize, I sit to catch my breath. This is where we leave the trail. I think. The last time I was here, it was summer. I had a solid GPS signal. Now, I have nothing but a belly full of doubt.

The unflappable Scott eases down next to me, his arm draped over my shoulder. “Okay. How much further?”

Throat parched, exposed face stinging, I swallow hard. “About a mile.” Pretty sure.

By the time we arrive at the shack, my fingers ache, and I can’t wiggle my piggies, but none of that matters.

We’re not lost. Woo hoo! While visions of a blazing fire take over my senses, I race to the door.

“Wait!” Scott shifts in front of me. Shucking his gloves, he raises his pistol. “There’s no smoke. No footprints. You positive he was here?”

The panic lodged in my intestines slithers up my spine. My boss said he was going to be here. He must be.

“Robert?” Voice trembling, I stretch for the handle.

It shouldn’t turn, but it does.

The metal hinges creak as I push on the wood. “It’s me, Kelly? You in there?”

Silence.

Hunt enters first, sweeping the room. My pulse pounds in my ears until he gives a clipped, “All clear.”

Inside, I kneel by the fireplace, place my hands on the blackened log, then shake my head. “Cold.”

My Fed moves to the stove, lifts a lid, and sniffs. Frowning, he inventories the fridge. “Eggs, tuna, bread, and milk. He planned on staying a few more days.”

“But where is he?” My mind conjures worst-case scenarios. Perhaps he broke his leg and lies stranded in this storm, slowly freezing to death. “We need to find him.”

Eyes softer, my lover shakes his head. “He’s been gone for at least 24 hours, probably more.”

I hold back a cry. No, no, no. He must be out there. He’s alive. I know it. “He could’ve built a shelter.”

Mouth tight, he bobs his chin. “Tell you what, we’ll start a fire. Afterward, you can take me to the lake.”

With a wave of relief crashing over me, I press my lips to his. “Thank you. I’ll just bring in a couple of logs. Be right back.”

Outside, I slog through the knee-deep drifts. As I yank back the woodpile’s tarp, a critter skitters away and vanishes into the woods. At the same instant, a redheaded woodpecker hammers his S.O.S. on a hollow tree.

My heart rate kicks up a notch before I let out a shaky laugh. Girl, you need to calm those nerves.

Have mercy on me Jesus. Something pale catches my attention.

Is that a nose? Frantic, I blink hard, doggy paddling away the thick white powder.

Open dead eyes. Blue stiff skin, much of it missing—gnawed away.

Ice floods my veins, my vocal cords lock, and I can’t even scream. On my knees, my stomach heaves. Acid scorches my esophagus. Remembering the rules about crime scenes, I twist away right before losing my lunch.

I found Robert.