Ice

by Stephanie Rowe

  “Kaylie.” Annie repeated, a smug look in her eyes, no doubt for being the first one to get Kaylie’s name. “You staying out at Cort’s place? How long you in town? You from California or something?”

  Kaylie looked at the beer sitting in front of her and made the decision to offer herself up. Lay it out there for anyone to hear. Anyone looking for her. It was the only way. She met Annie’s eyes. “I’m staying at Cort’s house, yes. I’m not sure how long I’ll be there. Until I’m ready to go.”

  “Until you’re ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  Annie looked like she wanted to ask more, but the bartender, a grizzled man who could have been anywhere from fifty to eighty, bellowed her name. Annie wrinkled her nose. “I’ll be back with the rest of the drinks and some food. Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” Kaylie watched Annie go, then carefully surveyed the rest of the bar to see if anyone seemed unduly interested in her.

  Then she sighed.

  Everyone seemed unduly interested in her.

  She dropped her gaze to the only brand of beer her mother had ever drunk, and felt a sudden chill.

  The choice of beer wasn’t a coincidence. She knew it in her gut.

  It was all Cort could do to keep from slamming Richie into the back wall of the building once they stepped outside. “What the hell was that about?”

  Richie turned to look at him, his jaw extended in hostility. “What’s your problem?”

  “The way you were looking at Kaylie.” Cort narrowed his eyes. “Got blood on your hands, Richie?”

  Richie blinked “Blood? What blood?”

  Cort leaned forward. “You were looking at Kaylie like you wanted to throw her in the trunk of your car and cart her off to your shack and violate her ten ways till Sunday.” He couldn’t keep the snarl out of his voice. He couldn’t stop the anger from making his fists clench. Richie was a well-known womanizer, and Cort had picked more than a couple drunk female tourists out of Richie’s clutches as he’d been carting them out the back door of a bar to his truck.

  It hadn’t made them friends, and it was a damn small community for enemies. Cort had assumed Richie’s uselessness at the cabin had been because of their past and the fact that he was Trooper Mann’s lapdog.

  Now he wasn’t sure.

  Richie’s eyes widened, and he held up his hands. “Hey, man, back off. Kaylie’s a beautiful woman, and every guy in there was thinking the same thing. Why are you riding my ass? Just because she’s your tail doesn’t mean I can’t look at her. Since when are you jealous?”

  Cort saw the flicker of fear in the trooper’s eyes, and he became aware of his aggressive stance, of the fire simmering beneath his skin. Carefully, he rocked back on his heels, giving Rich some space. Shit. Since when did he walk around with a hard-on for a fight? He got all the fight he needed from bad weather and his planes.

  “I’m trying to find a murderer,” Cort replied, not quite able to keep the sharpness out of his voice. “It makes me testy.”

  Richie eyed him skeptically. “That wasn’t about Jackson.”

  “You know nothing about Jackson.” But even as he tried to deflect Richie, Cort hesitated. Was he overreacting? Was Kaylie screwing with his focus? Or was his gut feeling about Richie right? He’d never liked the guy, and the way Richie had looked at Kaylie…

  Hell. Richie was right. He was jealous.

  Or maybe his gut was telling him something about Richie that he needed to listen to. “Where’s Bill? I’ve been trying to raise both of you all day, and I’m getting nothing back.”

  “Bill’s in Anchorage for the weekend. What’s doing?” Richie cocked his head, an interested gleam in his eyes. “You find something?”

  Cort fingered the bagged photo in his jacket pocket. Trust him or not? If Richie sat on it, they would lose time. But if Richie didn’t act on the evidence, then Cort would know he wasn’t clean.

  He pulled the bag out and explained what was in it, watching Richie’s face carefully.

  “No shit? That’s good stuff.” Richie took the bag. “Never dealt with a pervert before.”

  “And a murderer,” Cort reminded him drily.

  “Yeah, maybe.” Richie tucked the photo in his pocket. “See, the thing is, this doesn’t mean anything, other than that some guy jacked off on it. Could’ve been Jackson, before his wife got home and—”

  Cort’s hand was around the trooper’s throat before the man could finish. “Don’t speak badly of Jackson. Do you understand?”

  Richie was undaunted. “Hell, it could have been you. The way you reacted when I was checking Kaylie out—”

  Cort shoved Richie up against the wall. “What is your fucking problem, Richie? Why are you trying to piss me off?”

  Richie narrowed his eyes, and his hand went to his gun. “My problem is you. Back off.”

  “I am your problem,” Cort agreed, not budging. “But I could go away real nice if you’d take that bag back to your office and send it off to people who can check that stuff out. You’d be amazed at how pleasant I could be if you started taking Jackson’s and Sara’s murders seriously.”

  The trooper didn’t back down. “Already said I’d take care of the baggie. Doesn’t mean there’s a killer, though, and you know that.”

  Cort’s jaw began to ache, and he loosened his grip on the younger man. He hated to admit it, but Richie was right. Completely right. Semen on a photo didn’t prove a murder to someone who didn’t believe Jackson and Sara had been killed.

  Richie was correct by the letter of the law, but not right by the law of the land. Not by Cort’s gut.

  Richie and Bill were men with badges who were afraid to step up and do their job. Afraid to piss people off.

  Cort didn’t suffer from the same affliction. “Did you see the diamonds in Kaylie’s ears?”

  Richie grinned. “Oh, yeah. I sure did.”

  “She’s got people with money back home who will be riding your ass right to hell if something happens to her out here. And who do you think’s going to fry when they find out the state troopers knew someone was stalking her and didn’t take it seriously?” Cort had a suspicion that there wasn’t actually a single person back home who would send out the posse if Kaylie disappeared, and he didn’t like that idea at all.

  He didn’t want to be her posse.

  But she needed one, and he needed to find out who killed Jackson and Sara.

  He bent down so his face was in Richie’s space. “Kaylie is mine, so I will be leading the charge. You heard the stories about my dad?”

  Richie nodded once, his face slightly paler than it had been before. Everyone in the state knew about Huff Mc-Claine and how protective he’d been of his wife. If Huff hadn’t been the number-one search-and-rescue flier for the state, saving more lives than all the other bush pilots put together, the cops would have put in him jail by the time he was twenty-five. As it was, they let him skate and covered up the trail of destruction he’d left behind.

  Cort had inherited his dad’s love of flying and the thrill of going against the odds and pulling people out of the jaws of death, but he’d never understood the jealousy that had driven his dad, the way he’d reacted if his woman was threatened.

  Until now. Until Kaylie. Until Cort had seen that photo. “What Huff did won’t measure up to what I’ll do if Kaylie gets killed. And I’m going to start with you.” He managed a thin smile. “I’m already cranky about Jackson and Sara. You don’t want to push me.”

  Richie shrugged off Cort’s grip, and Cort let him. “Don’t threaten me, McClaine.”

  “I’d never threaten an officer of the law.” He turned and walked away, leaving Richie out in the rain.

  Cort knew he hadn’t handled him well. Hadn’t clarified whether Richie was just a pain in the ass, an incompetent newbie, or an actual suspect. Hadn’t done anything to convince Rich that Jackson and Sara had been murdered.

  But he’d gotten some good information.

 
; He now knew for absolute certain that he and Kaylie were on their own.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kaylie was being watched.

  The back of her neck tingling, she glanced toward the door Cort had disappeared through, but he still hadn’t returned.

  She scanned the room to see if she could determine who was making her skin crawl. A man with a shaggy gray beard at the end of the bar was watching her. Dirty, wrinkled hands wrapped around a beer. Cheeks ruddy from too much exposure. Eyes dark and hooded. Shoulders hunched.

  He looked down at his beer when their gazes met.

  The front door opened and the movement caught her attention. A burly man with a tan flak jacket eased outside. He was checking Kaylie out as well.

  A man with a black ball cap pulled low raised his beer at her as her gaze passed over him. He was drinking a Rolling Rock, like the one on Kaylie’s table.

  And so was the man next to him.

  Fingering the point of a dart, an older guy in the corner kept glancing in her direction, his eyes sliding away before she could make eye contact. A Rolling Rock was sitting on the table near him.

  It could be anyone.

  It was time to find Cort.

  Kaylie pushed back her chair to stand up, then paused when a shadow fell across the table. She looked up as a beautiful woman with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes sat down across from her. “Well, hey there, new girl.”

  Kaylie was stunned by the vitality of the woman. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes were vibrant, and her full breasts were obvious even beneath her heavy sweater. This was a woman who didn’t need diamond earrings and sexy lingerie to feel like a siren.

  Fingering her necklace, Kaylie managed a smile. “I was just leaving.”

  “Glad I got you before you left.” The woman patted the table. “Sit. We need to talk.”

  Kaylie glanced around the bar again and saw that almost everyone was watching them now, not bothering to pretend they weren’t. It gave Kaylie the creeps, but on the plus side, with a roomful of witnesses, the odds of her being abducted by a psycho without anyone noticing were small.

  Probably safest to stay right where she was. The center of curious attention.

  Cautiously, Kaylie eased back into her chair. “Um, hello.” Her gaze flicked around the room. Cort still wasn’t back, and the bearded man at the bar was gone.

  The woman smiled, a genuine expression of friendship that made her eyes light up. So friendly, so open. Kaylie realized this woman was as natural as the land she lived in. A friend who would be loyal forever.

  She reminded her of Sara.

  “I’m Charity Sims.”

  Kaylie couldn’t resist the warmth of Charity’s voice, or the way she leaned forward, as if she really wanted to talk. It was so welcome after the cold reception Kaylie had received at the bar and after the uncertainty of her relationship with Cort, who was the only one she had on her team. “I’m Kaylie Fletcher.”

  The bearded man from the bar was now in the corner, near the man with the darts. They were talking quietly, shooting occasional glances in Kaylie’s direction.

  Charity cocked a perfectly sculpted brow. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

  “Should I?”

  “No, I guess not.” Charity gestured for a drink from Annie. “A couple of the house specials. Kaylie and I are going to be a while.” She returned to gaze to Kaylie. “You aren’t Cort’s type.”

  Kaylie stiffened. “How do you know?”

  “Because I’ve known him a long time. He taught me to fly.”

  Another bush pilot? This woman was far too female to play in the world of bush pilots…wasn’t she? “So, you know Cort from flying.” That was nice. Kaylie was so thrilled to meet a beautiful woman who shared Cort’s passion.

  “Yep. We’ve put in a lot of hours together. You mind?” Charity pointed to Kaylie’s beer.

  Kaylie pushed it toward her. “Not at all. Please take it.”

  Charity took a long sip, then set it down. “Plus Cort and I dated for two years. So, yeah, I know his type. And you’re not it.”

  Oh, wow. This was Cort’s type? Beautiful, a daredevil, a woman so comfortable in her own skin Kaylie envied her. No wonder Cort didn’t like Kaylie. She was as far from Charity Sims as it was possible to get. Charity made her feel like some made-up porcelain doll.

  Restlessly, Kaylie shifted her feet under the table, wondering how long she had to stay to be polite.

  Charity’s smile faded, and she paused, as if searching for words. Finally, she clasped her hands on the tabletop and spoke. “What I’m trying to say is that if you want to keep Cort, you’re going to need a little help from a woman who knows what it will take.”

  Kaylie’s gaze jerked back to Charity in surprise. “Keep him? I don’t want to keep him.”

  “No? Well, that’s probably a good thing.” Charity took another sip of beer.

  Kaylie waited for further clarification.

  Charity just drank the beer, but the twinkle in her eye said she clearly intended to drive Kaylie insane until she caved.

  Argh. “Okay, fine, so I’ll bite,” Kaylie finally said, throwing up her hands. “Why is it a good thing I don’t want to keep him?”

  Charity grinned. “He’s hot, isn’t he? A woman’s fantasy in bed?”

  “We haven’t—”

  “Of course you have. I know Cort. That kiss was something else. He never laid one like that on me.”

  Curiosity definitely aroused now, Kaylie propped her chin up in her hand. “Really? He didn’t?”

  Charity’s smile widened. “Tell me again you don’t want to keep him. I’m not sure I heard that right.”

  There was something so warm about Charity that Kaylie couldn’t resist. She needed someone to talk to, and she had no one.

  Not anymore.

  But Charity was here…and Charity reminded her of Sara so much in the way she chatted up a stranger and was so quick to smile. Maybe Charity was nothing more than a jealous ex with an agenda, and she was definitely a stranger, but she was someone who knew Cort and was willing to talk, so Kaylie would take it.

  “So?” Charity pressed.

  “So, Cort would break me.”

  “Oh.” Charity’s smile dropped off. “Yeah, he might.” Her blue gaze settled on Kaylie’s earrings. “Yeah, I guess he really might.”

  Kaylie touched her diamonds. “What is with my earrings around here?”

  Charity chewed her lip for a second. “Listen, Kaylie, I love Cort. But I don’t love him as a woman loves a man, and he doesn’t love me that way. We were fillers for each other because neither of us had anything better. He’s broken inside, and I’m not the one to fix him. But he was good to me when I needed it, and I owe him.” Charity gave Kaylie a considering look. “If you’re going to mess him up more, that’s not okay with me.”

  “I’m not—”

  “But if you’re going to save him, and I just think you might be able to, then I’ll help.” Charity smiled. “He’s complicated.”

  “He’s an adrenaline junkie.”

  Charity raised her brows. “And that’s a problem.” She let out a low whistle and leaned back in her chair. “You’re going to destroy him forever, or you’re going to be the greatest gift he’s ever had. How much do you love him?”

  “I don’t love him at all.”

  Charity gave her a penetrating gaze. “Could you?”

  Kaylie stared at her. “God, I hope not.”

  A friendly grin broke out over Charity’s face. “That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one.” She nodded. “I think you’re okay, Kaylie Fletcher. If you want Cort, I’m not going to stand in your way.”

  Kaylie should have bristled at Charity’s assumption she had any say over what happened between her and Cort, but she couldn’t resent the woman’s genuine concern for him. Charity cared, and Kaylie appreciated that so much. Sara had been that kind of loyal friend, and it was one of the attributes Kaylie had treas
ured about her.

  Sara’s gift to Cort of one of her paintings proved that she was as fond of him as Charity was. Kaylie realized suddenly that if Sara had noticed the electricity between her and Cort, she probably would have sat her down and said the same things that Charity was saying.

  Tears swelled suddenly in Kaylie’s eyes, and she ducked her head to hide them. God, she missed Sara. How could Kaylie possibly resent Charity, when she was so much like the friend she had lost?

  She brushed the back of her hand over her eyes to clear them, then inclined her head in acknowledgment of Charity’s endorsement of her relationship with Cort. “Thank you for your support.”

  Charity nodded, studying her watery eyes, but she didn’t ask.

  Kaylie wasn’t sure whether she wished Charity would pry or not. With a sigh, Kaylie took a sip of the house special, a fruity wine she’d never had before. After a moment, she had regrouped enough to focus on the one person in her life she cared about who was actually still alive. “Why is Cort broken?”

  “Ah…” Charity swished the wine around in her glass and reclined in her seat, putting distance between them. “That has to come from him. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. But be forgiving if he seems like an ass sometimes.” She cocked her head and gave Kaylie a thoughtful look. “That is, if you want to love him. If you don’t, then chalk him up as a bastard and don’t look back.”

  “He’s not a bastard.” The words were out of Kaylie’s mouth before she could stop them.

  Her instinctive response brought a broad smile to Charity’s face. “No, he’s not. But not too many people realize it. You must be special if you can see that about him.”

  Kaylie had to look down at her drink to hide the pleased expression on her face. She didn’t want to save Cort. She just wanted to survive him long enough to find Sara’s murderer and save her family.

  She jerked her gaze back to Charity’s. “You said you’re a bush pilot, right?”

  Charity’s face took on a guarded expression. “Used to be. Not anymore. Why?”

  “Oh.” Kaylie sighed. “My parents and my brother were part of a climbing party that was declared officially missing—”