Black Ice

by Black, Regan

  “True.” She turned down a short hallway toward an exit sign and he followed. “The employee lot is this way.”

  It was a part of the casino he hadn’t explored. Cordell demanded reports on security, not general employee habits. Wyatt figured the FBI had eyes on every casino entrance, so he kept his focus limited to his role.

  On the other side of the doors, the world was coated with white. “Maybe you should stay over,” he said. “It’s already piling up.”

  “You sound like a tourist,” she joked.

  “I feel like one after all this time.”

  “Well then I recommend a winter walk led by Cottonwood Adventures to get familiar with the area again. Once the storm passes.”

  He’d love to spend more time with Evie if she’d allow it. “Seriously?”

  “I wish.” There was a razor-sharp edge on each word. “Believe me, I’d rather be guiding tours.”

  “Even in this weather?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She paused a few paces from the automatic door and the guard standing by. Zipping up her coat, she adjusted her scarf and pulled on gloves. “You’re familiar with snow-mania. This storm can’t possibly be as bad as they’re saying,” she grumbled. “It’ll blow itself out before it gets to us.”

  He hoped she was right, if only so he could be done with Cordell and his crew. “You’ll take precautions though?” he asked, buttoning his coat.

  “I’m not an idiot.” She tugged her hood up over her hair. “Are you staying or getting out ahead of it?”

  He couldn’t tell her he was planning to be part of a different problem for the casino.

  “I’ll be here a few days.” He tugged his gloves over his hands.

  Her eyebrows arched. “Why?”

  “Business.” It wasn’t a lie, though even the truth left a bitter taste on his tongue. “Let’s go.”

  A burst of cold air lashed them as the doors parted and, experts at bad weather, they leaned into it. Most women would fuss or squeal. Despite the scarf, he knew Evie’s lips curved into a smile. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks rose a fraction. She was meant for the outdoors. When they were much younger, he’d had fanciful thoughts about her being some sort of woodland fairy. He’d never been dumb enough to voice the bizarre thought, but it hit him again right now.

  This was Evie at her best and in her element, regardless of weather conditions. She had a faultless sense of direction and unparalleled courage. They used to joke you could send her up a creek without a paddle and she’d smile the whole way.

  Naturally, her car was parked at the end of a row, well away from the building. She pressed the button on the key fob and the lights flashed as the doors unlocked. Neither of them moved.

  “You didn’t have to walk me all the way out.”

  “Of course I did.” The air had enough bite to make it uncomfortable to talk and he needed to convince her to go home and stay there. “You’ll need some help clearing the windows.” He owed her more than a few kind gestures. He owed her explanations.

  She seemed to sense it. Maybe eleven years didn’t amount to a permanent divide after all. “Get in and talk while the car warms up.”

  He didn’t need an engraved invitation. Hustling around the car, he slid into the passenger seat. She drove a crossover that hadn’t been new in some time. He imagined it handled the terrain and demands of the outdoor business well.

  She started the engine and turned on the defrosters for the front and rear. The fan labored and whined and he wondered if it was up to the task. When she picked up a snow brush from behind her seat, he took it from her. “Let me.”

  “It’s not just winters,” she blurted.

  He pulled the door closed, watching her.

  She tugged the scarf away from her face. “We’re about one season away from losing everything. Dealing poker is the only way to keep us going until spring. I’ve worked up some private tours and ala carte contracts, but the salary and tips are the bread and butter right now.”

  His stomach dropped at her mention of private tours. Did the FBI misinterpret Cordell and Evie working out fees for a private tour? It made sense. Evie wasn’t a thief, no matter how dire things were with Cottonwood. If that was the case, Cordell wasn’t looking for a snowy landscape for the perfect picture. More likely that snake was hoping to prevent Wyatt’s double-cross.

  “Ala carte? What about your plans for year-round events?”

  She let her head fall back against the seat. “A kid’s plan,” she said.

  “That’s your father talking.” Wyatt remembered brainstorming with Evie about all sorts of improvements and innovations that would appeal to the next generation of adventuring customers.

  “You’re not wrong,” she said. “Neither is he. Winter excursions require winter gear and equipment. Dale Cotton doesn’t subscribe to the ‘takes money to make money’ theory. We both had to step up. He restores furniture and I found a job that pays.”

  Wyatt hated that Evie was sacrificing herself. “Wow.” Eleven years ago her working in any capacity at the casinos would’ve broken their friendship. He was a different man now.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her gaze on the snow blowing across the glow of light from the parking lamp overhead.

  “Don’t be. You have good plans for Cottonwood Adventures. If this is what it takes, consider it a phase.” But why did the universe have to plant her here, in the casino targeted for a big robbery. A robbery he was knotted up in.

  “You must hate me.”

  “Please.” He snorted. “The opposite seems more likely.” Her reaction to him earlier was plenty of proof. “You were fuming from the moment you recognized me.”

  She punched his shoulder. Hard. Confirming his assessment. “You left without a word. Not one letter or phone call.” She rubbed her reddening nose. “I had to hear everything from the paper.”

  It would’ve been easier if she’d shouted at him. The aching emotion in her quiet voice was too much. “I had to leave.” Unlike her, he didn’t have a good explanation for his choices. At the time, he’d thought not saying goodbye to his best friend was the only way to go through with it. Staying wasn’t an option and leaving wasn’t all that he’d hoped for.

  “What did you hear in the paper?” He regretted the question immediately. He wasn’t fishing for compliments, he was supposed to be getting her out of harm’s way without tipping her off.

  “Local boy joins the Army and becomes a hero, that kind of thing,” she replied.

  “I’m surprised they bothered.” Uneasy, he adjusted the vent shooting hot air at him. “My branch of the Jameson family tree wasn’t exactly popular.” His mother had gambled the family into such a deep hole they’d lost the house and everything that had once been good inside it.

  Evie had been his lifeline, his last tether to a better reality. Evie’s father had talked to him about enlisting, about creating a fresh start and building a foundation his mother couldn’t touch.

  It was go… or be consumed by her weakness. There were nights—plenty of them that first year—when he wondered if Dale had ever told Evie about those talks, about the advice that pushed Wyatt out of Deadwood toward a better life. Probably not. Dale would’ve expected Wyatt to explain and he’d never found the words.

  Evie’s place was here. For a time, Wyatt had been convinced his place was here, by her side, helping her take Cottonwood Adventures to the next level.

  “You were my best friend, Wyatt.” Her voice was barely audible over the blowing fans and he wondered if she meant for him to hear the words at all. “My heart broke over you. I…I don’t think I can go have coffee or a drink because deep down a part of me wants to forget the last eleven years of silence.” She sucked in a breath and bit her lip. On the exhale she faced him. “For as long as you’re in town, can we just pretend we don’t know each other?”

  “Evie—” It would be safer for her and yet, he resisted. He couldn’t just ignore what might be his only chance to make up for h
is mistakes.

  “I mean it,” she said. “Eleven years is a lot of time and distance. We’re different people now, really. You’ve been all over the world and I’ve been right here. Call me a coward, but I’ll only get hurt if I try to reconnect with you right now.”

  She was no coward. Just the opposite. “I should tell you—”

  She cut him off. “Don’t tell me anything. Just be yourself, be the town hero. Do whatever you’re here to do, just do it well away from me.”

  If he’d been surprised to see her dealing poker, he was absolutely shocked now. What she proposed was for the best on several levels. With the storm coming in, and the robbery in the offing, staying away from her simplified everything. This way Cordell couldn’t drag her into his plans. “You’re sure that’s what you want?”

  “It is.”

  How could he argue with her? She deserved to dictate terms now when he’d never given her a shot before. “You’ll go home and ride out the storm there?”

  “That’s the plan,” she replied.

  A plan that kept her away from the casino without him blowing his cover by telling her the whole sordid tale. Agent Pickering could get herself out to the Cotton place if she wanted clarity about Evie and Cordell.

  “Promise me you’ll stay home through the storm?”

  She ran her gloved hands over the steering wheel, not meeting his gaze. “I promise.”

  He gripped the door handle. “I loved you, Evie. We were only kids, but still. I know I hurt you, the way I left, but I’ve never wanted anything less than the best for you. I swear it.”

  Chapter Three

  Evie was grateful for the quick flash of cold air as Wyatt got out of her car. It cooled her cheeks and eased the sting of tears in her eyes. “I loved you too,” she whispered to the empty car.

  She’d thought she was all cried out when it came to Wyatt Jameson, but she found a supply of tears ready to spill over at the next opportunity. Which was not here while the man was clearing her windows. Driving home in the snow would be bad enough without tear-blurred vision and sadness.

  On a deep breath, she swiped the moisture from her cheeks. She was proud of herself for clearly stating her reasons for avoiding any kind of a reunion. For not letting the bitterness spill out and ruin a friendly moment. But she didn’t want a gold star for maturity. She wanted the impossible, she wanted her friend back. That seemed to be her natural default, wanting things she didn’t have any control over.

  Wyatt finished dusting the snow off her windows and returned the brush. “Drive safe.”

  “I will. Take care,” she managed.

  And then it was over. She put the car in gear and left the parking lot. Spending any more time with Wyatt would be the worst. She had a business to save. Investors to woo and team-building contracts to finalize. Wyatt was in the past and there were too many broken promises between them to recover. She would not look back, would not watch him trudge back to the casino.

  Overhead the night sky was loaded with heavy clouds, an ever-present threat of the lousy weather to come. Lights from the streets, stores, and hotels along the main road created a sparkling kaleidoscope on the fresh snow. The road crews would be working around the clock plowing and salting the roads if the storm stayed on track.

  Stopped at a traffic light, she forced herself to look back at her time with Wyatt objectively. They’d been teenagers, barely old enough to think through the haze of hormones and wild dreams. If he’d stayed here in town, there was no guarantee they could’ve made a relationship work. Between the struggles with his mother’s gambling addiction and her dad’s refusal of every new idea, maybe they would have crumbled.

  Or stagnated.

  An ending was an ending. Maybe it had been cleaner his way. The brief conversation had given her closure, which made her feel better. She’d looked him in the eyes and survived. And now she wouldn’t see him again during his stay. They could both move on happy and guilt-free to bigger and better things.

  The light changed to green and her tires spun in the slush despite the salt on the roads. Although it was late, she should probably get the chains on her tires when she got home. She rounded the bend and had to jerk the car to the shoulder to avoid an oncoming vehicle speeding by. Her tires slogged through the deeper accumulation of snow and icy slush on the side of the road and she skidded sideways through the lane while she tried to get back on course.

  Holding her breath, Evie fought hard to keep the car on the right side of the road. Losing control here, on a blind curve, was a death wish in the making. She regained control and slowed down as much as she dared. Turning on her hazard flashers, she struggled through a few deep breaths as her heart rate returned to normal.

  Her hands were sweating inside her gloves when she saw the first sign for Cottonwood Adventures. As she made the turn off the main highway, the back end fishtailed, but she got it under control, grateful to find the access road freshly plowed. Definitely time to get the chains back on the car.

  Despite her bluster to the contrary, she was concerned about this storm. The bank accounts were so tight she needed every possible shift, every possible tip, and every possible private tour she could arrange.

  She’d been so disappointed after her shift when a check of her email showed Tate hadn’t rescheduled either an online meeting or an in-person tour. There wasn’t any point in dwelling on it, but she was now kind of hoping Deadwood got smothered with snow and businesses closed altogether for a few days. That way the bank couldn’t turn down her next loan application for the Cottonwood Adventures expansion.

  Before she’d wrestled the finances and publicity plans from her father, he’d drained the reserve account in his effort to prove her expansion ideas were pointless. He’d run ads that weren’t profitable and refused to take her advice about building a social media presence seriously. She did what she could but, in season, she was busy from dawn to dusk as a guide. Not just because she was their best, but because it meant not paying someone else a salary and benefits.

  The busyness of their spring, summer, and fall schedules also meant less time for networking with other tour companies in Deadwood. Some days, when she was overtired, it felt as if Dale wanted her to fail so he could close up shop and be done. If that happened, she’d be lost. More lost than when Wyatt had left town.

  She had options. Another adventure company would put her to work and, Sarah, her manager at the casino would happily take her full time, but her heart and hopes and dreams were all invested in Cottonwood’s success.

  Big snowflakes splatted against her windshield. Almost home. Could be worse, she reminded herself as her wiper blades cleared a path. She could be trying to drive on ice or through the wind and white-out conditions the forecasters predicted would create ten-foot drifts in places.

  She hadn’t seen a storm quite so severe in her lifetime, but she’d heard the stories. In Deadwood, winter storms often grew as time passed, similar to the way a fisherman talked about a catch. Although in the modern era there was usually photographic evidence of the snow.

  Her thoughts wandering, she missed the driveway and had to stop and put the car in reverse. When her headlights hit the low snowbank she swore. The plow had overlooked the driveway as well. Instead of pushing the gathered snow to one side or the other, the driver had ignored the driveway entirely. Not unusual, but a bad sign if Holly did in fact hit them head on.

  She drove through the small berm, backed up, and drove through again, flattening as much snow as possible before heading up to the house. The house was dark when she pulled up, but the porch lights were on at the main house and at the cottage they’d originally built for her grandmother.

  Evie had moved in after college. The cottage wasn’t fancy or chic, though she’d done plenty of updating. The biggest plus was the privacy and independence she gained. Breathing space. Without that, her relationship with her dad would’ve taken a disastrous dive over the nearest cliff.

  The flipside of her f
ather’s stubbornness was his predictability. Tonight wasn’t the night to resent his deeply ingrained routine of leaving the light on for her. In her own way her stubborn streak matched his. Neither of them would give an inch on anything. She’d have to prove to him the winter events were worth the investment in good gear and smart advertising.

  And she had nothing to lose by implementing her plan on a small scale just as soon as the worst of this storm blew through. In a few hours, over breakfast, she could tell her dad that the hospitality manager had agreed to a sledding day as a team-building exercise.

  It was a coup on both fronts and the few people who’d overheard the plan had been enthused. Evie would be paid her base salary, plus the going rate as a guide and for two straight shifts she wouldn’t have to work indoors. Assuming the sledding day went well, she could add testimonials to her final proposal for the casino to add it as a morale-building option for other departments.

  That was the kind of creativity it would take to save and expand the business her father’s grandfather had started with fishing trips and hunting expeditions. Not that Dale would embrace it. She could already hear his arguments about hiring quality people, drafting the appropriate legal releases and all the rest of it. Tomorrow was soon enough for that fight, though she’d long since given up asking why he was determined to impede her success at the very point when she should be taking over the business.

  There was tradition and there was flat-out nonsense.

  Remembering she wanted to get the chains on her tires tonight, she drove around to the barn that served as the Cottonwood business office and primary storage area. Parking, she cut the engine, irritated with herself when the keys rattled in her hand. She was still on edge after that near miss on the curve.

  Better to blame her shakes on that non-incident than her talk with Wyatt.

  Her boots sank into the gathering snow as she trudged over and unlocked the overhead door, sliding it up. It felt like the snow was coming down harder and she wished she was wearing her silk-weight long underwear.