Ice

by Stephanie Rowe

  “Of course. It’s the only interesting way to learn anything.” She grinned. “Like, because I’m listening to your conversation, I can save you the trip of going up there. Old Tom will be back around midnight. He usually comes in here when he lands. So just kick back and eat dinner, and he might be in.”

  No trip through Devil’s Pass tonight.

  The tension eased from Cort’s shoulders, and he looked at his watch. “That gives us a half hour to kill. If he’s not here by twelve thirty, we’ll head out to his place and wake him up.”

  He picked up his burger as Annie directed her attention to Kaylie. “So, Cort won’t spill. Are you his girlfriend or what?”

  Kaylie’s cheeks flushed. “Um, yes.” Her gaze slithered toward Cort. “Yes, I am.”

  Cort couldn’t stop his satisfaction at her statement. Sure, it was because they were trying to goad a psychopath into action, but it still felt good. He grinned and stroked his hand down her arm, leaning close against her so her shoulder was pressing into his chest. “Hey, gorgeous. What do you say we raise the stakes and see if we can tempt our friend into taking a little action?”

  Her eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

  He took her hand and pressed his lips against the back of it, thoroughly enjoying the flush that stained her cheeks. “Let’s dance.”

  She swallowed. “Here?” Her voice was husky, sensual, making blood rush to his cock.

  He grinned. “Hell, yeah.” Before she had a chance to reply, he bent his head and trailed his mouth over the side of her neck. Just to let her know exactly what kind of dancing he had in mind.

  “Dance?” Kaylie’s entire body became warm when she looked past Cort at the jukebox in the corner. Dim lights, a small space, two couples dancing.

  Slow music.

  Oh…

  “Oh, yeah.” Cort’s hand closed around hers, and he pulled her to her feet.

  “I don’t know if—”

  Cort didn’t give her a chance to finish. He simply headed across the bar toward the dance floor, towing her along. He wasn’t looking at her, his gaze sharp as he noticed everyone around him.

  Kaylie knew he wasn’t asking her to dance because he wanted to, but because it was part of his plan. But she also couldn’t fail to notice his thumb tracing small circles on her palm, an intimate gesture that no one would see.

  It was just for her.

  The kisses, the anticipation of the dance…It was almost enough to make her forget why they were there.

  Almost.

  She glanced at the corner where the bearded man had been. He was gone, but the guy with the darts was still there, a Rolling Rock by his elbow.

  The man nodded at her, and she shivered. “Cort.”

  Reaching the floor, Cort pulled her into his arms, one hand tight against her lower back, the other enfolding her hand in his, tucking it against his chest. “What?”

  “That man by the dart board. Do you know him?”

  Cort’s shoulder tensed beneath her hand. Deliberately, he spun Kaylie around so he was facing the corner. He bent his head to trace his mouth over her neck. “Yeah, I know him. Rolling Rock, huh?”

  Shivers crept down her spine as his mouth feathered over her skin. “Who is he?”

  “Titus Marr. Been around forever. Sort of a drifter. He’s helped me out sometimes. Loner mostly. Never seen him in here before.” Cort’s voice was thoughtful, quiet, but his body was positively vibrating with energy. “You recognize him? From any old pictures of your mom?”

  He turned Kaylie again so she could see Titus. The man was watching them through narrowed eyes, and she tensed as Cort’s hand slid over her bottom. “Don’t think about me,” he whispered into her ear. “Just concentrate on Titus.”

  She swallowed hard, but her body was already responding to his touch, to the feel of his hard body against hers. His hand was unyielding, pressing her against him, into the solid mass of muscle. “I don’t recognize him,” she whispered, her blood pulsing thickly in her belly.

  “Anyone else?”

  “There was a man…” She hesitated, searching for the bearded man. “He had a beard. He was talking with Titus earlier. He was watching me.”

  Slowly, Cort turned them, teeth grazing the side of her neck. “Scan the bar. Tell me if he’s still here.”

  He bit lightly, and she jumped.

  A low chuckle reverberated in Cort’s chest. “You liked that?”

  “Stop distracting me,” she whispered, still searching the bar. The shadows were heavy, and she couldn’t see the people in the corners very well. Was one of them the bearded man? The skin prickled on the back of her neck, and she felt a threat.

  “I’m not distracting you. I’m distracting everyone else from noticing how hard you’re looking around the bar.” He squeezed her butt, and yanked her tighter against him, pressing her pelvis right against his. “Trust me, they aren’t paying attention to where you’re looking right now. They’re waiting to see how long it takes for my hand to actually go in your pants.”

  His erection was hard against her belly, and she sucked in her breath, her body becoming hyperaware of everywhere they touched. Of his scent. Of the way she fit against the shield he was creating with his body. Unable to stop herself, she allowed herself to melt against him, her chest tightening when he accepted her surrender, folding her against him.

  “You see him?” His lips went to her ear, and he lightly nibbled her earlobe.

  “No,” she whispered. God, it felt good to feel the heat from his body.

  “Are you even looking?”

  She jerked back to the present and forced herself to look. That’s when she saw him. The man with the beard. In the back corner, his gaze on them intently. And he looked angry.

  Cort tightened his grip, as if he’d felt her tension. “Where is he?”

  She told him, and he turned her again so he was facing the corner.

  “Who is—?”

  He kissed her before she could finish the question. It wasn’t tender. It wasn’t shallow, just for show. It was instant heat, a kiss of possession, a statement of ownership and domination.

  And she loved it. She’d never been kissed like that before, and her body responded instantly. He was strength, he was passion, he was so utterly male. So arrogant, as if he was staking a claim on her that he knew she wouldn’t protest. But he was more than that. He brought her spirit to life in a way she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling. Yes, that scared her, but it was also the most amazing sensation she’d ever experienced.

  Because of Cort, the thought of going back to her life in Seattle didn’t sound as appealing as it used to. And at the same time, a part of her wanted to rush back there and let it consume her, draining her of what Cort was doing to her….

  God, she didn’t even know what she wanted anymore. All she knew was that she wasn’t ready to walk away from him yet.

  He released her hand, tunneling his fingers through her hair as he anchored her against him, plundering her mouth with a kiss so demanding she felt the heat melting through her body. She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him down toward her, wanting more, needing more. He made her feel safe, protected.

  He made her feel beautiful and perfect. The way he kissed her, as if he couldn’t go another second without tasting her—it was heady and exhilarating.

  Cort broke the kiss, nuzzling his way down the side of her neck, hands roaming her back. “He’s gone,” he whispered.

  She blinked. “Who?”

  He laughed softly, nipping at her neck. “The guy with the beard.”

  “Oh.” Embarrassed at the way she’d lost herself in the kiss, especially since it was clear Cort had been watching everyone during the interlude, she pulled back slightly.

  Cort’s eyes were dark as he tunneled his hand in her hair. “The guy with the beard was Etsy Smith. He’s harmless.”

  “Harmless? He didn’t feel harmless.”

  “He got in a fight
with a grizzly a few decades ago, and he’s never been quite right since.” His gaze went to her mouth. “He’s not capable of what this guy has done. It’s not Etsy.”

  She felt like stomping her foot in frustration. “Sara’s murderer has to be here. The beer he sent—”

  “I know.” Cort’s expression was grim. “I was hoping to piss him off with that kiss, but I didn’t see anyone react.”

  She stiffened at the reminder that Cort hadn’t kissed her because he wanted to. That it had all been for show. She’d been utterly unable to keep herself from responding, but he’d kept his head the whole time. “Let me go.” Pushing at his chest, she shoved him away from her. “I don’t—”

  His fingers tightened in her hair, anchoring him against her. His eyes were blazing. “Oh, no, sweetheart. You’re not pulling that on me.”

  “Pulling what?”

  “Getting offended because I kissed you to piss off a murderer.” He lowered his head. “Because now I’m going to kiss you simply because I want to.”

  And then he kissed her.

  The other kisses had been hot, but this…

  It was a whole other level. The way his lips played with hers, the nips of his teeth, the deep sensuality of his tongue playing over hers…It was a kiss designed to shred all her defenses and make her his.

  And it was working. Especially because she knew it was a kiss just for them.

  His hands framed her hips, pulling her against him, making her viscerally aware of how hard he was for her. His touch burned through her jeans while his mouth continued its ruthless assault. Across her jaw, down the side of her neck, and then he was at her throat. Kissing along her collarbone as one hand slid up her back, locking her against him. His body was hard, ribbed, and he smelled so amazing. The sensation of being held, of being cradled so intimately, of the way his lips were working over her chest, as if she were a treasure, an erotic temptation.

  Then his mouth was back on hers, the kiss wild and desperate, no longer in control. Everything inside her responded to the intensity, and she was kissing him back just as fiercely. Needing more. Wanting his hands on her skin. Touching her everywhere.

  She slipped her hands beneath his shirt. Oh, God. His skin was so hot, so smooth, and it was hers to touch, to do whatever she wanted. To lose herself in—

  There was a loud crash, and Cort jerked her behind him as a man ran into the bar, the door slamming open. “Cort! You better get out here!”

  “What’s going on?” Cort moved between Kaylie and the man at the door, one hand tight on her hip, keeping her anchored against his back.

  “Your truck. You better get out here.”

  Cort took one look at Kaylie, and then grabbed her hand and charged out the door.

  Cort was furious when he saw what had been done to his truck.

  Every window was shattered.

  Headlights destroyed.

  The hood dented as if someone had taken a baseball bat to his truck and beaten the hell out of it. Again and again and again.

  “Oh, wow.” Kaylie came to a stop beside Cort, her voice trembling. “You think—?”

  “I think that kiss worked.” Anger boiled inside him, fury that someone thought he had the right to destroy Cort’s truck, to scare Kaylie. Jesus. What if Kaylie had been out here when this guy had snapped?

  Because that’s exactly what had happened.

  Someone had lost control. Completely. The assault on Cort’s truck had clearly been the result of a blind, frenetic rage, and anyone who’d been around at the time would have been included in the attack.

  Cort threw his arm around Kaylie and yanked her against him. “Stay with me.” Adrenaline jacked, he looked slowly around, hoping for one sign, one signal, to tell him which of the bystanders had done it. Etsy was there. Titus. Richie. And about twenty others, still with their beers in their hands. Cort’s hands bunched into fists, but he didn’t move. Didn’t react. Kept the same calm he did when shit was going south fast in the air. Went into overdrive with his focus and his concentration.

  No one met his gaze.

  Dusty, one of the ones mentioned by Annie as having been there earlier in the evening, wasn’t there. Dusty, who’d been a guide for forty years and could easily have been in a position to meet a single female climber thirty years ago. Dusty, whom Sara had hired to fly Kaylie around in a move that made no sense.

  Cort sensed Luke behind him, covering his back, but he didn’t turn around.

  Richie muscled his way through the crowd. “Anyone see who did this? Anyone hear anything?”

  The crowd mumbled, but no one spoke up.

  “Jesus, you must have pissed someone off,” Luke said. “Kaylie have a jealous ex?”

  Kaylie looked sharply at him. “It’s not funny.”

  “Hell, no,” Luke agreed. “I’m not kidding. That kind of assault…” He whistled softly. “That’s personal, my friends.”

  Cort turned his gaze back to the truck, saw something glittering in the driver’s headrest. “What the hell’s that?” Keeping an eye on the crowd, he walked over to the truck to check it out. He brought Kaylie with him, unwilling to leave her behind even for an instant.

  But when he got there and saw what it was, he wished he had.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Kaylie recoiled when she saw what was wedged in the cushion. A huge knife with a black handle and a serrated blade was embedded in the driver’s seat, right where Cort’s throat would have been if he’d been sitting there.

  As if someone had been pretending to slice Cort’s neck.

  Or promising to do it.

  The memory of Jackson’s gaping wound flashed into Kaylie’s mind, and she covered her own neck, her mouth going dry.

  Then she saw there was dried blood on the knife.

  Jackson’s?

  Sara’s?

  Her mother’s?

  Blindly, she reached out. “Cort—”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tucking her against him “I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she closed her eyes, trying to focus only on the strength of his body, letting his presence chase away the ugly thoughts trying to consume her. “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded once. “Yeah.” But her voice was shaky, and she felt exposed. Vulnerable. What kind of monster was after them?

  His brow was furrowed. “Want to get out of here?”

  “No.” She managed to shake her head. “This is what we wanted to happen. Let’s see it through.”

  Cort smiled, and there was no mistaking the flash of respect in his eyes. “You change your mind, let me know.”

  She nodded, hooking her hand over the waistband of his jeans to keep him close. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re more than fine.” He squeezed her once, then looked past her to search the crowd. “Richie! Get your ass over here!”

  Kaylie took a deep breath while Cort gestured to the trooper, forcing herself to look at the knife in his seat again.

  Cort hadn’t been there. He was fine. No one had been hurt. It was a message meant to scare them.

  That was all.

  She bit her lip and forced herself to look inside the rest of the truck.

  The passenger seat had been sliced open as well. Not just on the headrest, like Cort’s, but the whole seat.

  “He marked the seat as if you were sitting there,” Cort said grimly, and she realized it was true.

  Long, furious slashes outlined the shape of her body, like a chalk outline on a murder scene. The fabric was stained, as if he’d cut himself and kept stabbing. She stared at the pink foam, saw Sara’s bloodied body in her mind, and she started to shake. Dear God—

  “Fuck.” Cort’s grip tightened on her. “Come on.”

  He pulled her away from the truck as Rich hurried up. Cort had a low conversation with him while Kaylie frantically scanned the crowd, barely reassured by Cort’s secure grip on her.

  Was the killer there now? I
magining stabbing her in person? Waiting for a chance to do it for real?

  Kaylie tensed when she saw a man in the back of the crowd, a hat pulled low over his face shielding him from view. She couldn’t see him well enough to know if he was one of the men she’d seen inside the bar, but the hunch of his shoulders…was familiar. She knew she’d seen him before. “Cort—”

  “Just a sec.” He was still talking to Rich, and they were arguing about whether to bring Trooper Mann back for this. The young state trooper was saying he couldn’t go solo on it, and Cort was telling him to get on it.

  The man in the hat blew her a kiss and held up an envelope, then set it on the hood of a red truck he was standing next to.

  “Cort!”

  He jerked his gaze at her, then swung around to face the crowd. “Where?”

  The man was moving, sliding off into the darkness. “There! Black hat—”

  Cort was already on the run, tearing through the crowd, yelling something at Luke.

  He shoved his way through, then tore down the street after the man. Luke was by her side in an instant, Charity with him. “Come on, Kaylie. Back inside.”

  “No! I have to get the envelope.” Kaylie followed Cort’s path through the crowd, but no one was watching her. People were far too interested in the grisly state of the truck, and rumors were circulating fast, but it still took several minutes to work her way through the crowd.

  Cort was just returning as she reached the red truck. “Lost him,” he growled. “Did you see his face? Recognize him?”

  “No, but he left something.” Kaylie reached the truck, but there was no envelope. “Dammit! I saw him set it down.” She described it, and soon they were all looking.

  It was Charity who found it in the mud beside the tire. She held it up. “Is this it?”

  “Looks like it.” It was streaked with brown. Mud or blood?

  Cort plucked it from Charity’s fingers, saving Kaylie from having to touch the soiled paper. He ripped it open and scanned the contents. His face became hard, and he crumpled it up, sharing a hard look with Luke.

  “What does it say?”

  “Nothing of importance.” He shoved it in his pocket. “Can I grab your truck, Luke? I want to drive around and see—”