“Dammit, Cort!” She marched over and grabbed his arm. “Stop trying to protect me. I deserve to know what it is! I can handle it.”
He caught her wrist as she reached for his pocket. “No.” His voice was unyielding. “Not this time. This note was about me.”
She frowned. “You?”
“Yeah.” He nodded at Luke, who held up his keys.
“I’m going with you,” Luke said.
“Someone needs to stay with Kaylie,” Cort snapped.
“Then bring her with us. The guy’s too good with a knife. You’re not going alone.”
“You guys aren’t leaving me behind,” Charity said. “If he was in the bar, he knows I was with you two as well. No way am I going to be added to his list of ways to toy with you.”
Kaylie frowned as the three of them battled over who was coming. Cort had gone three shades pale when he’d read that note, and he hadn’t made eye contact with her since.
Whatever was on that note was big.
Luke and Charity finally ran off to get his truck, leaving Kaylie alone with Cort.
Kaylie folded her arms over her chest. “Show me the note, Cort. He wanted me to see it, and I want to know what it was.”
Cort’s jaw flexed, then finally he reached into his pocket and yanked out the note.
He handed it over, then turned his back on her, ostensibly to scan their surroundings, but she suspected it was because he didn’t want to watch her read it.
She carefully smoothed out the crumpled paper. The words were scrawled in rough, angry, black letters.
MURDERER.
She frowned. “How do you know this is about you? It just says ‘Murderer.’ ”
He didn’t turn around. “Other side.”
She flipped it over.
ASK CORT WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS WIFE AND SON.
Her stomach congealed, and she looked up at him. “You’re married? And you have a son?”
He finally turned around. “No.”
The answer didn’t ease her sudden tension. “Were you married?”
His jaw worked, and he gave a curt nod.
“And your son?”
His eyes were hard as steel. “Dead.”
She swallowed, her throat thick. “What happened?”
A muscle ticked in Cort’s cheek. “Are you asking me if I’m a murderer? If I killed them? Just ask it. Get it over with.”
His voice was so cold. Waiting for judgment. Expecting it.
And she thought of Charity’s words, that most people judged Cort harshly. That she should give him a chance, trust him.
“Well?” Cort sounded angry now, challenging her to say the words.
But his eyes…There was pain in them. So much grief. Betrayal. Years of torment.
She knew, because those were the eyes she saw in the mirror every day. Eyes filled with self-hatred.
But more importantly, she saw the man in them. The man who had cried for Jackson. Who had given up the chance to get his best friend’s murderer to keep her safe. A man who had held her and carried her through her grief. An adrenaline junkie who was her only rock in this world that was sliding out of control.
Cort McClaine was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a killer.
Though something had happened to his family. Something had happened to him. And suddenly, he made a lot more sense. “Did she wear diamonds?” she asked quietly. “Your wife?”
His mouth tightened, and he said nothing.
It was enough of an answer, and she finally understood so much more.
“Just ask,” he growled. “Ask me if I’m a murderer. You know you want to. I’m already on the edge, right? Slowly cracking?” Cort grabbed Kaylie by the arms, hauled her close. “Just ask.“
Lifting her chin defiantly, she crumpled up the paper and threw it in the mud. “No. I’m not going to ask.”
His eyes narrowed. “Judging me without even giving me a chance to defend myself?”
“No.” Kaylie set her hands on his chest and felt him tense beneath her touch. Felt his heart hammering in such contrast to the rigid control he appeared to be exercising. “When you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.” She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his chin, not quite able to reach his mouth. He didn’t bend down for her, his eyes dark and inscrutable. “And just so you know, I will never believe you’re a murderer, so don’t bother trying to tell me you are. I’m not asking, because I don’t need to.”
He stared at her, searching her face for a lie, for a trick.
“He left that note to drive a wedge between us,” Kaylie said. “It won’t work. If our being together threatens him, then that’s how we’re staying.”
This time, when she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and tugged, he let her pull him down.
And for the first time, she was the one who initiated their kiss.
No kiss had ever tasted so unbelievable.
Cort was suddenly ravenous for Kaylie. For her kiss, for her body, for her touch. Kaylie knew about his past. She knew, and she didn’t believe the lies. Didn’t judge him. Didn’t care.
The bastard had tried to turn her against him, twisting a truth he knew Cort wouldn’t be able to deny, a truth the whole town had already condemned him for.
And it hadn’t worked.
A thousand weights fell from Cort’s shoulders, and he pressed Kaylie up against the side of the truck. The metal was cold and wet, but she didn’t protest. Her arms went around his neck, holding him tighter.
He slid his hands beneath her jacket and cupped her breasts. She arched into him, and he flicked a thumb over her nipple. He grunted with satisfaction when she shuddered from the contact and her fingers tightened in his hair.
She had just learned the worst about him, and yet she was kissing him with the same passion as before. There was no flinching from his touch, no coldness in her kiss. Just hot passion.
Jesus, she drove him mad with need. His blood felt as if it was burning as it raced through his body. Cort didn’t want to hold back. He wanted to lose himself in her. He palmed her belly, slid his hand over the zipper of her jeans—
“Cort!” Richie’s voice cut into the haze.
Swearing, Cort jerked his head from Kaylie’s, but he didn’t lift his body off hers. It felt too damn good to have her under him. Besides, they’d already been seen. Why bother?
“What?”
Kaylie pushed at Cort’s chest, but he didn’t move. Just cupped the back of her neck and rested his forearm on her collarbone. Keeping her close. Right where he wanted her.
“Can we talk privately?” the trooper asked.
Kaylie leaned around him to look at Richie. “Why does everyone around here want to hide things from me?”
Richie glanced at Cort, and Cort saw a flicker of fear in the trooper’s eyes for the first time. His face was pale, and he looked a hell of a lot younger than he actually was.
Cort eased off Kaylie. “What’s wrong?”
Richie’s gaze flicked toward Kaylie. “Shouldn’t we—?”
“She can handle it. What’s wrong?” No way was he leaving Kaylie alone so he could have a private chat with Richie.
Richie hesitated. “Did you…see the passenger seat?”
Anger surged through Cort again. “Hard to miss.”
“Um, yeah…” The trooper glanced around. “See, here’s the thing. I gotta say…” He hesitated.
Cort grew impatient. “Say what?”
“Yeah, listen, I just wanted to say.” Richie looked at his shoes, then finally at Cort. “I blew it by not taking you seriously before. Whoever chopped up those seats…the guy’s a sick bastard.”
Kaylie’s hand went to Cort’s belt, her fingers digging into his side.
Cort set his hand on hers, giving it a light squeeze of reassurance. “So that means you’re going after him now?”
“Oh, yeah.” Richie hesitated again. “The thing is, Bill told me not to bother taking notes before, about Jackson an
d Sara’s murder, so I wasn’t really paying attention. I’ll need you guys to go over all the details again.”
Luke chose that moment to drive up, Charity in the passenger seat. “We don’t have time for a recap of the cabin.” Cort told Richie about the guy Kaylie had seen by the red truck, and her description of the man.
He left out the part about the note.
Richie looked even paler. “He’s still around? Shit.” He grabbed for his hip. “I was off duty, so I don’t have my gun. I have to go back and get it. Shit.”
Luke rolled down the window. “You coming or what?”
Cort realized for the first time that Richie’s attitude and his being a pain in the ass were nothing more than a cover for the fact he was incapable of handing anything. But now wasn’t the time for Rich to try to come into his own. “Try to reach Bill again.”
“See, I can’t.” Richie grimaced. “He took off for the weekend. Said he was going to Anchorage, but his cell phone’s off, and I must have written the wrong number down for the hotel.”
“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”
Richie shook his head. “Bill’s pretty possessive about his cases. He’d ride my ass if he knew I brought someone else in.” He ran the back of his hand across his brow and looked at Kaylie. “You need to get out of here. Go to the airport. Take a flight anywhere. I don’t know what—”
“Hey!” Cort caught his shoulder. “Rich! Go get people off the truck, retrieve the knife for fingerprinting, and start talking to witnesses. Someone has to have heard the guy beating up my truck. Find out who heard what.” He slammed his hand on Richie’s shoulder. “You’re the man tonight, Richie. Step up.”
Richie stared at him. “Bill always takes charge. I’m not supposed to—”
“You are. Tonight you earn your badge. Screw Bill. It has to be you.”
Rich nodded, pulled back his shoulders. “Yeah, okay. Yeah. I’m on it. I can do this.” He turned his attention to Kaylie, a new determination in him that Cort hadn’t seen before. A purpose. He could only hope it held up until Bill returned to take over.
“What are you doing to stay safe?” Rich asked Kaylie. “You want me to lock you up at the station?”
Cort couldn’t suppress his smug satisfaction when she put her hand on his arm. “I’ll stay with Cort.”
“Yeah.” Richie nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good call. What’s your mobile number, Cort?”
Cort rattled it off, and Richie put it into his phone. There was a new set to his shoulders, a new strength to his voice. “Yeah, okay. I’ll keep in touch.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He just spun on his heel and marched back toward the truck, shouting at people to get back.
Taking charge.
About damned time.
“Are we going or what?” Luke leaned out the window.
“Let’s do it.” Cort took Kaylie’s arm and began to guide her toward the truck. Something caught his attention and he paused, turning to survey the street. People were still clustered around his truck.
Then he heard the unmistakable click of a rifle being cocked.
“Get down!” Cort tackled Kaylie and rolled her beneath the truck, covering her with his body.
Dirt kicked up inches from their heads, and then there was nothing.
No more bullets.
Silence, except the beating of Kaylie’s heart beneath him.
“Cort—”
“Shh.” He put his hand over her mouth, straining to listen, but he heard nothing. No footsteps, no scrape of metal across the ground.
The passenger door opened above their heads. “Get in,” Luke said quietly. “I can’t tell where he is. We need to get the fuck out of here.”
Cort wrapped his arm around Kaylie. “Stay close.” Keeping her shielded by his body, he helped her up and shoved her onto the floor of Luke’s truck. Charity was already on the floorboards in the back.
Cort jumped in, staying low as Luke peeled out. Kaylie’s eyes were wide, and she was silent, staring at Cort.
A shotgun and a rifle were on the gun rack behind Charity. Cort helped himself to the shotgun. “What the fuck was that?”
“No idea. Could have been a drunk shooting rats.” Luke was grim as he sped down the street. “But I’m not driving around a bunch of dark alleys waiting for him to pick us off. I search by plane, or I don’t search at all.”
“Amen to that.” Cort fisted the shotgun, watching intently as the buildings rolled past.
“Where to?”
“Home. We’re getting the hell out of here.”
“Wait!” Charity’s voice was muffled from the back. “I’m not going to your airfield. Drop me off at my place.”
“And let him know where you live if he’s on our tail?” Luke shook his head. “No way. You’re staying with us.”
“No.” Kaylie crawled up on the seat beside Cort. “I don’t want to involve Luke and Charity. I can’t do another Jackson and Sara,” she said. “I can’t be responsible for them.”
Charity sat up. “Jackson and Sara? Did something happen to them?”
No one answered, and Cort looked over at Luke. “You and Charity get out at her place. Cover her back until you know you guys aren’t a target.”
“No way,” Luke scowled. “I’m staying with you.”
“No.” Cort knew Kaylie was right. “I’m not endangering you. You get out, or we do.”
They looked at one another, and Luke took a hard right. “I’m doing this for Charity,” he snapped. “But the minute I know she’s safe, I’m coming after you guys.”
“Deal.”
Luke pulled back up to the bar, next to Charity’s car. He hesitated. “Don’t get killed.”
Cort nodded, and Luke got out of the truck with Charity and the rifle. Charity reached through the open door and hugged Kaylie while Cort shifted over into the driver’s seat. “I don’t know all that’s going on,” she whispered. “But be safe.”
Kaylie nodded. “I’ll do my best. You too.”
“Always.” Charity stepped back with a worried frown, then yelped when Luke grabbed her and tossed her into her car with an order to stay low.
Kaylie sighed and leaned back in the passenger seat.
“Get down,” Cort ordered, scanning the streets for a threat. But he saw nothing.
It didn’t reassure him.
Because it meant he didn’t know where the threat was coming from, making him nothing but a sitting duck. Powerless, with Kaylie’s life in his hands.
He shifted the truck and floored the gas.
Screw that.
It was time to take back control.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The streets were empty and wet as Cort sped through the town. The only sign of life was an occasional corner streetlight.
It was after midnight in Twin Forks.
No one was going to be out there.
No one except a murderer.
Cort glanced at Kaylie, who had hunkered down in the seat at his command without protest. Some folks would have said Cort’s being on the road meant there were two murderers stalking the streets tonight.
But not Kaylie.
Cort had already been determined to keep her safe, for Jackson.
Now?
Now it was for her.
Her diamonds caught the light, and he grimaced, realizing she was such a contradiction. He was getting sucked in by her, and it could only end badly. Again.
He needed to find a way to keep his distance. But, hell. He didn’t want to.
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke, Cort watching for a tail, Kaylie slumped in the seat. “Where are we going?” she finally asked.
“My place to get my plane, then to Old Tom’s. I want to be there when he lands. Find out what the hell is going on.”
She nodded.
Said nothing else.
But he saw a tear slide out of her eye and down her cheek.
He tried to ignore it.
He really did.
But when a second one broke free, he cursed under his breath. Then he took her by the arm and pulled her across the bench seat toward him. Tucked her against his side and pressed his lips to her hair.
Because he couldn’t stop himself.
Kaylie burrowed into his side, her body trembling. “If this man…If he’s the one who called me and told me my mother is still alive, and if he has her…” Her voice broke.
Cort grimaced. “Kaylie,” he said gently. “If your mom is still alive, we’ll find her.”
“Do you think she’s dead? What about my dad? My brother? I don’t even know what happened to them.” She was clutching his arm, and he liked the feel of her hanging on to him. “What if he killed them all? Slaughtered my brother and dad, like he did Jackson? Hurt my mom, like he did Sara? Do you think he—?”
Cort squeezed her firmly. “One of the first lessons a bush pilot learns is to never imagine the worst-case scenario. It paralyzes you, and pretty much guarantees that’s exactly what you’ll get. Focus on surviving the next five minutes. Think about what you can do right now to change things. Don’t think about the rest of it.”
Kaylie was quiet for a minute, the tires whizzing over the damp pavement. “I can’t do that. I can’t stop thinking about the way the truck was cut up, about Sara and Jackson and—”
“You can.” Cort cut her off. He could feel her tensing against him, and he knew she was on the verge of panic. “What do you have power over? What’s within your control to do?”
She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. “We’re going to talk to Old Tom.”
“Yep. What are you going to ask him?”
“Who was in the party. Where he left them. If anyone was hanging around or anything. Or came with them.”
“If he flew your mom when she was here thirty years ago.”
Kaylie turned her head. “You think he was the one from before?”
“You find a bush pilot you trust with your life, and that’s who you call next time. It’s how it works. I’ve been flying some of my clients since I was fifteen.”
“You’ve been flying clients since you were fifteen? You shouldn’t even have been driving a car, let alone a plane.”
Ice Page 17
