Ice

by Stephanie Rowe

  Kaylie wrenched her eyes open at Cort’s casual statement, then glanced out the window. She could see nothing but darkness and the swirl of snow at the edge of his wing light.

  “See any grizzlies?” His voice was low and rough, but comforting. “They’re usually pretty thick this time of year, going after the salmon.”

  She looked again and still saw darkness. “What are you talking about?”

  “Tour guide. I distract my passengers when they get nervous. It’s rutting season, you know. Might see some action down there, but I recommend watching from a distance. Grizzlies in rutting season are about as approachable as…well, grizzlies in rutting season.” His face was barely lit by the glow from the control panel. His sunglasses had long ago hit the dash, and his jaw was shadowed in the dim light, making him look even harder and more rugged than he had out on the tarmac. Cort was all backwoods and survival, taking on Mother Nature and winning every time.

  Until he finally lost, of course.

  Because he would.

  They all did, eventually.

  “Up ahead you’ll see Mount McKinley,” he continued. “Snow-covered peaks year-round, but by summer, the winds get too high for climbing by anyone with half a brain or a shred of common sense.”

  Up ahead was whiteout backed by darkness. “It’s beautiful. Such a scenic flight,” she managed.

  He grinned. “You climb?”

  “No!” Her reaction was too quick, and she saw Cort’s eyebrows raise with curiosity. She struggled to recover, not wanting him to probe further. “Do you?”

  “Nah. I’m an air guy. Too much time on the ground gives me hives.”

  She snorted at the line that was such an echo of the one she’d heard so many times in her life. “Maybe if you stayed on the ground longer than a fraction of a second, you’d find something there you liked.”

  He gave her a long inspection that was utterly male, full of raw sexuality. “Seems everything I want fits in a plane just fine.”

  Her nipples tightened from that one heated look, and she quickly folded her arms over her breasts. “You mean the freedom to risk your life on a daily basis?” She struggled to keep her voice even, to shift the topic from any further innuendo.

  The plane bucked, and Cort turned his attention back to his instruments, but the sensual mood didn’t lessen. If anything, she was even more aware of him. Of the small space they shared. Of the way he’d looked at her as if he wanted to strip off her clothes layer by layer until she was naked beneath him. She remembered his hands on her hips as he’d helped her into the plane, tossing her as though she weighed nothing. Holding on to her a fraction of a second longer than he’d needed to. She’d liked him touching her.

  He was an adrenaline junkie bound for an ugly death, and yet she wanted him to touch her again. To feel his hand sliding over her hip…His touch had been more than an impersonal assist into the plane. It had been a sensual caress that had made all her nerve endings spike. That brief moment had elicited the most intense yearning to be touched. To be held. To be kissed. By this man who was so…male.

  God. Was she that lonely? That desperate? That stupid?

  “Nah,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m not risking my life. I’m in control up here.”

  His comment irked her enough to jerk her attention back to him. “That’s why you’re risking your life! Because you don’t respect the danger—”

  “Hey.” His voice turned to granite. “I respect it just fine. But I make damn sure that my equipment’s in top shape. I know what I can do and what I can’t. And I can do a hell of a lot.”

  “How many bush pilots die each year in Alaska?”

  “None that are doing everything right.” His voice was unyielding, and his arrogance was thick in his words. But it wasn’t just an arrogance; it was a total and complete conviction.

  Of course it was. A bush pilot couldn’t do his job if he didn’t believe he was better than the challenges he faced. The minute he lost confidence, he might as well hang up his wings.

  She knew the drill all too well.

  A man like Cort would never admit his failings, not even when his moment to die finally came. He’d proclaim his invincibility even as the Grim Reaper stood over him and took his soul.

  “You’re impossible,” she said. Men like him didn’t change.

  His eyes narrowed at her hostile tone. “What’s your deal?”

  She grimaced. “Nothing.”

  “Yeah? You’re in my plane giving me grief, when all I’m doing is flying you where you need to go. It’s not personal, but you’re making it personal. Why?”

  She bit her lip and looked out the window, watching the snow fly past the light on the wing. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

  “What’s not my fault?” But his voice was softer now, a bit of curiosity mixed with concern.

  “Long story.” She glanced at him. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  He nodded. “Got some of those, too.”

  They fell into silence, but this time it was a more comfortable silence. As if they’d sort of reached an understanding. She sighed and let her head fall back against the seat. The plane continued to dip and buck. The turbulence wasn’t normally enough to scare her, but the sense of foreboding was getting stronger with each minute.

  She stole a glance at Cort. His face was relaxed as he concentrated on flying. She might scoff at his arrogance, but since he had her life in his callused hands right now, she had no choice but to make herself believe that he was absolutely correct about how good he was.

  She had to have faith in him. It was her only choice.

  Twenty minutes later Cort announced, “We’re almost here. I’m going fly over the cabin and check things out.”

  Kaylie leaned forward, straining to see the ground through the storm that raged around them. Please be okay, Sara.

  She pressed her face to the window as Cort flew low. The ground beneath them was white, flanked by darkness. She could only guess it was a clearing filled with snow and surrounded by trees.

  Cort banked the plane, and the nose came up, and she guessed that they’d flown by the cabin. “No lights.”

  “You were expecting lights out here?”

  “Yeah. They should have a lantern out at the end of the field so I can see it to land.” The nose of the plane started to drop again, and Kaylie instinctively grabbed hold of the seat.

  “I’m going to have to land without it.”

  “Is that safe?”

  He shrugged. “It’ll be as safe as I can make it.”

  “That’s not an answer!”

  “Sure it is.” He nodded at the windshield. “This time I’m flying by to check for anything on the field that I could hit. Moose, trees, debris. To make sure the snow’s not too deep for wheels.”

  “Why don’t you have skis?”

  “Too late in the year. Not enough snow.”

  She glanced out at the whiteout in front of the windshield. “Not enough snow?”

  “Nope.”

  Kaylie saw Cort lean forward, peering out the window to look for moose and branches, but she couldn’t see anything.

  He soon pulled the plane back up, and she assumed he’d finished the flyby. “So, what now?”

  “We land.”

  “But how could you possibly see anything in that darkness?”

  He didn’t answer her, and she realized with a sinking feeling that he hadn’t been able to detect anything either. “Cort?”

  He banked the plane, and she knew he was coming in for the landing anyway. “Cort!”

  “Today’s not the day for us to die in a plane,” he said. “So sit back and enjoy the ride.”

  “The day for us to die?” she echoed. “Don’t even say that!”

  There was a bump, and she lurched forward as the plane hit hard. She clutched her seat as Cort swore under his breath, making rapid adjustments with the controls as the plane skittered to the side and lurched. />
  Then, suddenly, all was still.

  Kaylie sank back against the headrest, while Cort unbuckled himself and climbed between the seats into the back.

  He emerged a scant second later carrying a rifle.

  Kaylie jerked upright. “Why do you have that?”

  “Never leave home without your gun in these parts.” He yanked a black wool hat over his head, then climbed back in front and tossed her the pale blue stocking cap that had been in her bag.

  Obviously, the man had no respect for privacy. “You went through my belongings?”

  “Yeah. Saw it before you zipped up. You coming or waiting in the plane?” Cort’s jaw was hard and his eyes were focused, and she realized he was far more concerned about Sara than he’d let on during the flight.

  She tugged the hat down. “I’m coming.”

  He showed no surprise at her answer. “Stay close. Visibility’s shit out there.” He popped open the door and vaulted out of the plane, not waiting for her reply.

  She quickly climbed down, sinking calf deep in fresh snow that was still falling hard. She tugged on her parka and zipped it up as Cort flashed a heavy-duty flashlight around them.

  There was no sound but the whipping of the wind and the roar of his plane’s engine, which he hadn’t shut down. The cold pounded at her cheeks like miniature ice daggers, and her lungs ached. Cort turned toward the darkness and jerked his chin for her to follow. He strode off across the snow as if he knew exactly where he was going.

  Kaylie ran a few steps to catch up, and she grabbed the back of his parka. It was too dark and too snowy to risk losing him, and she had a feeling if he got out of sight, she’d never find him. She shuddered, and a tinge of panic licked at her.

  Cort glanced over his shoulder at her and gave her a brief smile of reassurance. Her tension eased slightly. Reassured by a man whose soul depended on his risking death many times a day? God help her.

  He turned forward and they slogged through the snow. She could feel the fierce wind knifing through her waterproof pants. She hadn’t bothered to spring for the heavily insulated ones, knowing it was spring in Alaska and the weather would be warming up fast.

  A mistake that could easily turn fatal in weather like this.

  As if sensing her thoughts, Cort reached back and tugged her closer to him. She followed his lead, pressing herself against his muscled back, using his bulk to shield most of the wind. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his jacket as he guided them through the storm.

  Tucked against Cort, the wind seemed to quiet, and she became viscerally aware of Cort protecting her. From the wind. From the cold. From taking on Sara’s mysterious call by herself.

  By the time a dark shape loomed before them, she was shivering. She didn’t know if it was from the cold or realizing exactly how tough Cort really was and being crushed up against him.

  “That’s the cabin,” Cort shouted over his shoulder. “No lights on.”

  He strode up to the house and climbed the steps. He kept one hand anchored on Kaylie’s arm where she’d wrapped it around his waist, as if to ensure she didn’t lose her grip. He tried the front door without bothering to knock. It opened under his touch, and he stepped inside, his rifle ready.

  He stopped so fast, Kaylie slammed into his back.

  He stepped back and shoved them both outside. He backed her into the exterior wall of the cabin, pinning her behind him with his body. Rifle up, he scanned the blizzard with his light. The powerful beam reflected off the falling snow, giving them zero visibility. He swore and tightened his grip on the rifle, keeping it aimed and ready.

  Kaylie dug her nails into his waist. “Cort? What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head once, slicing across the air in front of his mouth with his hand to indicate she should be quiet.

  Oh, God. “What’s in the cabin?” She could barely get the question out, her mouth was so dry.

  “Not for you to see.”

  “Not for me—” She felt behind her for the door handle and shoved the door open before he could stop her. He swore and grabbed for her, but she ducked out of his grip and scooted inside.

  It was pitch-black, and she moved forward to find a light.

  Cort’s arm snapped around her belly like a steel band, hauling her back against his body. “No.”

  She fought against his grip. “Turn on the light.”

  He hesitated, then turned the flashlight into the room.

  At first, the dark splashes on the walls and the floors meant nothing to her.

  And then she saw Sara on the floor.

  Covered in blood.

  Shredded.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Sara!” Kaylie’s knees gave out, and Cort caught her, anchoring him against her.

  “She’s dead.” His voice was strained. “They both are.”

  “Both?” She then noticed a body next to Sara’s. The heavily muscled body of a male with bright red hair and freckles. “Dear God. Jackson.” His throat was slit, a pool of blood around his upper body. “No!” The cry tore from Kaylie’s throat, tears burned down her cheeks, and she wrenched out Cort’s grip and ran to her best friend.

  Kaylie fell to her knees and tried to pull Sara’s inert form onto her lap. “Sara! I’m here. Oh, God. I’m here now. It’s okay. I’ll get you help.” The floor creaked under Cort’s weight, and his boots appeared beside her knee. “Bandages, Cort. We need bandages to stop the bleeding!”

  “Kaylie.” He crouched beside her, his voice rough. “Look at her. You can’t save her.”

  He let the beam settle on Sara, and Kaylie finally saw the death on her friend’s face. Sara was gone, truly gone. “Oh, God, Sara.” Sobs wracked Kaylie body, and she fell into Cort as he scooped her up in his arms. Loneliness crushed her, made it impossible to breathe. “Cort—”

  “I know, babe. I know.” He held Kaylie tight as he crossed the floor and took them outside again.

  Cort struggled to keep his composure as Kaylie clung to him, her sobs of grief ripping at him. He concentrated on the feel of her body against his, trying to fight down his own memories of the last time he’d seen that much blood. He pressed his face into her hair, finding refuge in her scent and her warmth, whispering soothing comfort to her that he knew would mean absolutely nothing. Words would never change what had just happened.

  “We can’t leave them,” she moaned against his neck.

  “I need to call it in.” Cort lifted his head and searched their surroundings, his rifle ready. His internal radar registered no one, but he didn’t believe it. He quickly began to slog through the snow back toward the plane, and he continued to scan the blizzard for any sign of the son of a bitch who’d killed Cort’s best friend and his wife. Sara’s blood had started to dry, but Jackson’s had been fresh. Jackson, an ex-Navy SEAL and one of the toughest bastards Cort knew, had been taken down mercilessly.

  Easily.

  With one stroke.

  Blood that fresh meant that unless the killer had come in by plane, he was still nearby.

  And deadly.

  But Cort couldn’t see shit, and he had Kaylie in his arms, limiting his mobility. His spine tingled with awareness at the sensation of being watched, and he hustled through the snow, eager to get Kaylie stashed in the plane so he could hunt the bastard down.

  Something brushed against his back and he whirled, rifle and flashlight up.

  Nothing but blinding snow.

  He did a slow 360, straining to see into the snow.

  “Cort?”

  He realized Kaylie’s sobs had stopped, and her body had gone rigid against him. “Yeah?”

  “He’s still here?”

  “Think so.”

  “Stalking us?” Her voice was a mere whisper.

  “Maybe.” He began to move slowly toward the plane, while she clung to him, barely breathing.

  There was a flash of darkness in the snow right beside him. Cort fired, the shot a deafening explosion in
the snowy woods. Kaylie startled against him. Then neither of them moved, both waiting for an indication he’d hit something.

  But there was nothing.

  A few more steps, and they were at the plane. Kaylie started to scramble off him, and he set her down in the snow. “Stay here.” He vaulted up into the plane, doing a quick search of the baggage area, but no one was in there. “Okay.”

  She was already in her seat by the time he made it back up front a split second later. “You stay here. I’m going to go after—”

  “What?” She grabbed his arm before he made it out of the plane. “You can’t go out there! You can’t see him coming! Did you see what he did to Jackson?”

  “I saw.” Fuck, he’d seen it. The blood flashed in his mind again, and he had to close his eyes for a second to wipe the scene out of his mind. Goddamn memories. “If I don’t go now, he’ll be gone by the time anyone can get back here.” Cort checked the ammunition in his rifle. “If I don’t come back, I want you to—”

  “What? Fly out of here?” Kaylie tightened her grip on him. “Damn you, Cort. Don’t get yourself killed!”

  Cort opened his mouth to tell her he wasn’t going to get killed, and then he saw streaks of Sara’s blood on Kaylie’s face and jacket. Jesus. The bastard could come in the plane after Kaylie while Cort was stumbling around blind as hell in the blizzard.

  Shit.

  He had to get Kaylie out of there.

  “Buckle up. We’re leaving.” He yanked his door shut and fired up the propeller. He threw on his headset and taxied the plane around as fast he dared. His skin was crawling, and he knew with absolute certainty that their departure was being watched.

  He ground his jaw against the urge to stop the plane and go after the bastard. Kaylie was his responsibility, because Jackson had taken her under his protection on Sara’s behalf. Cort could practically hear Jackson yelling at him to take care of the girl first. An ornery bastard even in death.

  Shit. Jackson was dead.

  Grief welled hard and fast, but Cort shut it off ruthlessly. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the plane. The weather was for shit, and he had no business taking off, but there was no way he was staying on the ground with Kaylie.