Hard Line

by Clare, Pamela

  “I’m right here, skat.”

  19

  Steve had no idea how many bullets remained in Isaksen’s pistol—hopefully enough to kill the bastard. He must not have hit him in any critical organs. Somehow, Isaksen had gotten to Sam, untied her, and disappeared.

  Well, he couldn’t have gotten far.

  Steve dressed for the cold, tucked the pistol in his pocket, then grabbed a flashlight, unlocked the rear fire escape, and headed out into the dark. The wind had picked up, creating whiteout conditions. But this wouldn’t take long. The Dane was probably lying dead outside one of the doors, Sam beside him.

  But if they weren’t dead, it would be an act of mercy to finish them.

  Steve headed down the stairs, gritting his teeth against the bitter cold. The wind had scoured Isaksen’s blood away. There was no sign of footprints, either.

  Damn it!

  Beneath the station, which functioned like a fucking wind tunnel, the ropes were gone, too, probably blown into a drift somewhere.

  He shined the flashlight around. He didn’t see any bodies, but visibility was limited, the light reflecting off the flying snow. He walked out from beneath the station and made his way from one entrance to another. They weren’t at the main entrance. They weren’t at any of the fire exits. They weren’t at the B1 power plant exit.

  They weren’t anywhere.

  Chills that had nothing to do with the cold shivered down his spine.

  No, this couldn’t be. They couldn’t have disappeared. There was no one to help them. Sam had been drugged, Isaksen wounded. No, the bastard was dead, and so was Sam. They were probably buried in blowing snow somewhere.

  He must have missed them.

  Steve walked around the station a second time, looking for telltale mounds of snow, a bit of fabric, anything to show him where their bodies were. The wind cut through his parka, his gloves, his snow pants, his boots, cold seeping into his bones.

  Nothing.

  “Goddamn it!”

  Where the fuck were they?

  Maybe Isaksen had made it to the entrance of the service arches. Or perhaps he had tried to get to Summer Camp or one of the labs, where they would have heat.

  If he had, he was dead out there. It took just a few minutes to become hypothermic in this weather, and the labs were about fifteen minutes away. Summer Camp was much closer, but Steve wasn’t about to head out there. There were no flags to guide him, and in this weather, he might wander off and not find his way back.

  Still, he could walk part of the way, keep the station in sight, and see if there were any lights on out there.

  Keeping the station to his back, he walked toward Summer Camp, leaning into the wind, panning back and forth with the flashlight, watching for bodies buried in the snow. But all too quickly, the station began to disappear, swallowed by darkness and whiteout. He couldn’t see Summer Camp at all.

  “Shit.” Painfully cold now, he made his way back to the station, up the back stairs, and into his office, where he sat, shivering, rage building in his gut.

  Why would Isaksen’s buddies be so certain he was alive?

  They’re just fucking with you.

  Where the fuck had Isaksen gone, and how had he managed to take Sam with him? She was dead weight—in more ways than one. She’d been out there for at least six or seven minutes before he’d gotten to her, lying exposed on the ice.

  Steve peeled off his parka and logged into his VPN to check his email.

  Finally! A response from his buyer.

  He clicked the email.

  Situation too hot. We are being watched. Deal is off. There will be no further contact.

  Adrenaline hit his bloodstream, panic making his pulse rocket. “No! No, no, no! You can’t do this to me!”

  If they didn’t send a plane, he was fucked! He’d be arrested for triple homicide and spend the rest of his fucking life in SuperMax—if he wasn’t executed for treason.

  “Jesus!” He bit back a sob, his stomach in knots.

  He fired back a response, demanding that they send someone as soon as the wind died down and reminding them of everything he’d risked for this.

  The email bounced.

  “Fuck!” Bile rose in his throat, his stomach rebelling. “Oh, God!”

  He couldn’t frame anyone because he’d bragged about killing the three of them to the two Cobra guys. He could kill them, too. He could kill everyone on station. But they had probably contacted their boss by now.

  People know.

  That’s why his buyer had backed out.

  No, there had to be a way out of this. He was too smart to be caught by a few hired guns. He would find another buyer. Or smuggle himself off station in a shipping crate. Or fake his death and make his way to McMurdo and onto a container ship. Or hold everyone on station hostage in exchange for safe passage.

  Another buyer. That was the easy answer.

  If China didn’t have the balls for this, Russia surely would. And it just so happened that he had a team of Russians right here, locked in the B1 Lounge. He was certain they’d faked the shit about their plane so they could steal the components. Maybe he could interest them in buying the goods instead.

  * * *

  Pain brought Thor awake with a jerk.

  For helvede! Damn it!

  When had he fallen asleep?

  He must have been hit harder by the cold than he’d realized.

  He reached up slowly with his left hand, pressed his fingers to Samantha’s throat, felt her pulse. It seemed stronger now, and some color had come back to her cheeks. The patches of skin on her face that had frozen were red—a good sign.

  He cupped her cheek, her skin warmer now. “Samantha, can you hear me? It’s Thor. I want to give you some hot cocoa or coffee, but you need to wake up first.”

  She turned her head toward the sound of his voice, her eyes still closed.

  He glanced at his watch, saw that he’d been asleep for about an hour. He reached for the radio. Last time he’d checked, it wasn’t working, probably a result of extreme cold. He turned it on, relieved to hear a little beep.

  But who was listening on the other end—Jones and Segal, or Hardin?

  For all Thor knew, Jones and Segal were hostages—or dead. The last thing he needed was for Hardin to overhear him and come out here to finish him off. He had no weapons and was already injured, while Hardin had his pistol.

  Instead of speaking into the radio, he pushed the talk button a few times, sending out three bursts of static. Then he waited—but not for long.

  “Isaksen, this is Jones. Is that you, man?”

  “Jones, Isaksen here. Are you and Segal safe?”

  “We told that bastard you weren’t dead.” Jones’ words were almost drowned out by cheers in the background. “Is Dr. Park with you? Is she alive?”

  “Yes, but she’s dangerously hypothermic and has mild frostbite. I found shelter and treated her as well as I could, but I think she might be in a hypothermic coma. She’s still unconscious.”

  “Hardin drugged her. That’s what he told us. I don’t know what he gave her, but if she’s still unconscious, Decker here says it might be the drug.”

  Hardin, you fucking bastard.

  “How are you?” Jones asked. “He says he shot you.”

  “Yes, with my own damned weapon. I’ve got a round in my shoulder and a graze on my thigh and a bit of frostbite, but I’m okay for now.”

  He’d get an infection if the bullet didn’t come out, but that was a worry for later.

  “Damn, brother, you are hard to kill.”

  “What’s your situation?”

  “We’re fine. Hardin has us all locked in the lounge. He’s got the package—and the run of the station. I have no clue what he has planned, but he’s got control of the doors. So far, he hasn’t shown aggression toward anyone here. We haven’t seen him for about an hour.”

  Thor tried to remember what Hardin had told him about the B1 Lounge as a life po
d. It had its own power plant. It had food, restrooms, and a kitchen, as well as medical supplies, sleeping bags, its own coms and computers. The staff would be safe there—at least until the food ran out.

  “Jones, Segal—Hardin said the station could be run from the lounge. Does anyone on staff know what he meant or have access to the station’s systems?”

  “I’ll ask.”

  “Isaksen, Segal here. I’ve kept Tower apprised of our situation. I just gave him an update to let him know you’ve checked in. They’re working on a rescue op, but that’s likely some time off, thanks to the weather.”

  Then Jones was back. “Lance, Ryan, and Charli from coms say they both have access to the system. McClain says that power for the heating can be rerouted to the lounge, cutting off the rest of the station. But doing that might drive Hardin to attack us—or to seek shelter elsewhere. That might bring him out to you.”

  Those weren’t the only risks.

  “Can Hardin override that command and cut off power to the lounge?”

  The bastard was capable of almost anything.

  “Lance says he thinks they can lock him out of the life pod controls altogether. Lance and Charli are working on it now. The life pod’s systems operate independently, so if they get in there first and establish admin control—”

  “Do it. Will they be able to open the doors to the rest of the station?”

  “They don’t know, but the lounge’s powerplant has its own exit on the ground floor. The guys from the service arches think they can force it open if this doesn’t work. But we still won’t be able to access the rest of the station.”

  “Would Decker or Kristi be able to bring me some kind of weapon and get medical aid to Dr. Park?”

  “When it comes to weapons, all we’ve got is our concealed carry pieces. Everything else is locked up in our rooms.”

  Fuck. “Right.”

  Jones continued. “Between the fifty-six of us in the lounge, only one has a parka, and no one has gloves or hats or masks. I’d be willing to borrow the parka and take my chances, but the wind has picked up. We’ve got whiteout conditions outside. I’m not sure I’d find you.”

  “No, stay there. It’s too risky.”

  The good news was that whiteout conditions would keep Hardin indoors, too.

  Samantha whimpered.

  “Work on cutting off power to the rest of the station. Check in before you throw the switch. We need to come up with a plan that gets me back into the station and gives us access to our weapons. The three of us would have no problem taking out Hardin. But I need to go. I think Dr. Park might be regaining consciousness.”

  “Copy that. Jones out.”

  * * *

  Samantha tried to open her eyes, but couldn’t, the sound of Thor’s voice lifting her out of the darkness. “Thor?”

  “I’m right here, skat.” Warm lips kissed her forehead. “You’re safe. Do you hear me? You’re safe, and you’re going to be okay.”

  “So … cold.” Her skin seemed to burn—on her face, her fingertips.

  “I’m going to make you some hot cocoa, okay? Will you drink it for me?”

  “He … killed me.”

  “He tried.”

  The next thing she knew, Thor lifted her head. “Samantha, I need you to drink. This will help warm you up.”

  Something warm touched her lips, the scent of chocolate tickling her nose.

  She drank, sweet, warm cocoa sliding down her throat.

  “Good.”

  It felt so good, but she was so tired.

  “Stay awake, skat. Keep drinking. That’s right. Another sip.”

  She did as he asked.

  “Jones says Hardin drugged you.”

  “A shot. Mida…zolam.”

  “Midazolam?” A burst of static. “Jones, this is Isaksen.”

  “Isaksen, Jones here.”

  “Can you ask the doctor or Kristi about midazolam? Samantha is coming around. She says that’s what Hardin used to drug her.”

  “Copy that.”

  The conversation seemed to be happening somewhere far away, the words drifting around Samantha, her mind unable to capture them for long.

  “Isaksen, Jones here.”

  “Jones, go ahead.”

  “Decker says it’s a strong sedative. She probably needs oxygen. He says they keep portable oxygen canisters in all of the buildings in case someone gets sick from the altitude. McClain here says to look beneath the bar.”

  We’re just going for a little walk out the rear fire escape. Oh, don’t worry. I disabled the alarm. I’m hoping I got the dose right and you can still walk, but if you can’t, that’s okay. I’ll carry you or drag you by your hair. I don’t care.

  “No!” Samantha cried out, tried to fight. “Don’t!”

  “Samantha, honey, it’s me, Thor. You’re safe here. Can you open your eyes?”

  She tried but just couldn’t do it. “My skin… It burns.”

  “You have mild frostbite. The burning is a good sign. I’m going to give you some oxygen. Just breathe, okay?”

  A plastic mask over her mouth. A hiss. A puff of canned air.

  “That’s it. Keep breathing.”

  Every time she inhaled, there was another hiss.

  But it was the sound of his voice, deep and reassuring, that held her.

  She tried to tell him that. “Talk to me.”

  Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.

  “Okay. You keep breathing, and I’ll keep talking.”

  He told her how he’d found her and carried her out to Summer Camp and how they both had hypothermia. “When I saw you lying there, I was so afraid I was too late, that you were already gone. I don’t think I’ve ever been more afraid in my life.”

  He’d been afraid for her?

  Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.

  Then he told her how the coldest he’d been before this evening had been after a snowstorm in Greenland.

  “There was more than a meter of new snowfall, more than the dogs could handle. My partner had twisted his ankle that morning, so it was up to me to ski ahead of the sled and break trail for the dogs. After a while, the snow that got into my clothes melted from my body heat. I got wet down to my skin. It was only forty below, but I became hypothermic. We had to stop and make camp.”

  More than a meter of snow?

  Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.

  He drifted from story to story. “People think that being in Sirius was all about the weather, but it was really all about the dogs. I can’t tell you how many times I had to break up fights between horny male dogs because one of the females was in heat.”

  As her head began to clear, his words painted vivid images in her mind.

  She remembered the scars on his wrists. “They’re big dogs, aren’t they? Wasn’t that dangerous?”

  “I suppose it could be. We made sure the dogs never forgot that we humans were the pack alphas.”

  Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.

  “Malik said … you saw polar bears.”

  “Lots of polar bears.” He told her how a bear had followed them, showing up every night when they made camp, but keeping its distance as if waiting to see whether they’d do something stupid and become a snack. He told her how a bear had broken into one of their emergency shelters and eaten all the food, leaving a big pile of shit with candy wrappers in it as a thank you. He told her how he and his partner had dug into a snowbank for emergency shelter, only to realize there was a mother polar bear denning in that same snowbank.

  “We heard her snoring. We decided to take our chances with the weather, got the hell out of there, and made camp a short distance away.”

  “That sounds … scary.”

  Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.

  “Greenland wasn’t scary. It was … freeing. When you’re with one other person on the ice for weeks at a time, you run out of things to talk about. Then, after enough silence, you run out of things to think about. Your mind is just … empty. You live moment to moment in a way that’s impossible when you
’re surrounded by cities and crowds of people. Your pain and all your burdens just fall away.”

  Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.

  She opened her eyes, looked into his. “What pain were you carrying?”

  “Afghanistan.”

  20

  “What happened in Afghanistan?” Samantha took the canister of oxygen from Thor and began administering it to herself. “Can you tell me?”

  Thor had never told a woman what he’d done that night. His fellow Cobra operatives knew the story. They were all veterans who’d served in special operations forces, and Thor had trusted them at least to understand. He’d also felt they deserved the truth about him since they were all going to be working together.

  But Samantha…

  She knew very little about war. She was logical and rational, and there had been nothing logical or rational about his actions that night. Still, a part of him wanted her to know. He’d been more open and naked with her than he’d been with a woman in a very long time, and he’d almost lost her today.

  “Thor?”

  He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “It’s not a pretty story.”

  “It hasn’t been a pretty day.”

  “I told you about the IED blast that killed my friends—Lars, Felix, Mads.”

  “Yes. You were thrown clear. Mads and Felix were killed. Lars died while you held his hand. I remember.”

  “Three died. Three of us survived. We were airlifted back to our base, along with the bodies. I was out of my mind with rage. I wanted blood. I wanted to make al Harzi pay for what he’d done. Jakob, one of the other survivors, felt the same. So, we waited until night, and we commandeered a vehicle and snuck off base, armed to the teeth.”

  “You went AWOL?”

  “AWOL? What’s that?”

  “Absent without leave.”

  “Yeah, and stole a vehicle.”

  “Okay. Wow.”

  “We drove through the night back to those poppy fields. It was a crazy thing to do. AQ operatives and Taliban fighters were everywhere. But we made it to al Harzi’s hideout, passing the crater in the dirt road that was left by the IED. The blood of our friends was still there in the dirt. We parked about a half-mile away and walked the remaining distance, weapons ready.”