He grinned, pulling out on the highway. Empty and abandoned, it was pitch-black except for his headlights. No one following him that he could see. But he was still itchy. Still tense. Needed to get in the air and put some distance between the psychopath and Kaylie. “It’s Alaska, sweetie. We have different rules.”
“It’s not Alaska. It’s you. You live by different rules.” She tried to move away from him, but he didn’t let her go. “Cort—”
“I need to know something.”
She stopped fighting and turned to look at him. “What?”
“You had no problem taking my word about my ex-wife and my—” He still choked on the word. “My son. But you still have a problem with me. I want to know what your deal is.”
She didn’t hesitate. “You live to risk death.”
“No, I don’t risk death. I do what I do. Death isn’t an option.” A bush pilot who thought about death might as well hang up his wings, because Death would be coming on the next train for him.
“Oh, come on, Cort.” She punched him in the chest in frustration. “Do you seriously believe that? You risk death all the time. That’s what makes your heart beat and your soul come alive. Just admit it!”
He opened his mouth to deny it, then shut it. Thinking of how to explain it to someone who didn’t understand. “I don’t risk death,” he said. “I just like to flip it off.”
She frowned at him. “That sounds like the same thing.”
“No. Russian roulette is risking death. You might die, you might not. It’s luck.” He gestured up at the sky. “I’m in complete control up there. It’s a constant challenge, and it’s hard as hell, but I’m never in danger of dying.”
“Oh, come on! You can’t tell me in all your hours in the air, you’ve never come close to dying.”
“I’ve come close, sure. But that’s not the same thing as risking death.”
She groaned, folding her arms over her chest as she sat up, moving away from him. “I don’t understand how it’s not the same thing.”
He let out his breath. How many times had he had this conversation with his ex-wife? And it had always been like this. Around and around, never coming to an understanding. He’d given up trying to explain himself to anyone who didn’t get it. For some reason, though, he wanted Kaylie to understand. He needed her to understand. But he had no idea how to explain it. “What does your family say? They’re climbers, right? So they must—”
She looked out the window. “I haven’t seen my parents in over ten years. The only one I keep in contact with is my brother, but it’s awkward because he’s caught in the middle. My parents hate me, and he tries to keep the balance. He’s the only one I really have, and I haven’t even seen him in about five years.” She stared out the window. “The phone call didn’t mention him,” she said quietly. “I don’t now if that’s bad or good.”
“Why do your parents hate you?” He couldn’t imagine that.
She sighed, hugging herself tighter, as if she was withdrawing into herself. “Because they hate the fact I’m not like them, and I hate that they forced hell on me for the first six-teen years of my life. And I resent that getting a high from some stupid mountain is more important than their own daughter.”
His grip tightened on the wheel, tensing at the accusation he’d heard so often from his ex-wife. “That’s crap. Just because they like to climb doesn’t mean you aren’t important.”
“It is! Don’t you get it?” Kaylie made a noise of frustration. “I’m not enough for them. I never was. They’re like drug addicts, living from one high to the other, and anyone who gets in their way gets burned. They’ll keep going after the next hit until it kills them.” She leveled a gaze at him. “Just like you.”
“I’m not a drug addict—”
“You are. It’s just the name of the drug that changes.” She turned her attention to the window again. “I couldn’t watch them destroy themselves, so I left. And now”—she spread her hands—“here I am. Back in the world I hate, trying to find my family, who may have finally fulfilled their destiny in a way even more horrible than I thought. And the only way I can find them or save them or whatever is to go back into this world. They win. Even in death, they win. They make me come back.”
“No one made you do anything. You chose to come back.”
“Like I had a choice! They could be dying on the mountain somewhere!”
“Of course you had a choice. You made the courageous one.” Now that he understood her a little bit more, he knew he spoke the truth. Despite the image she presented, Kaylie was strong. And her loyalty—there to the core, despite ten years of separation. He moved his hand, tapped her boot where her feet were curled up on the seat next to her, then thumbed the necklace hanging between her breasts. “Who are you really, Kaylie Fletcher? Are you diamonds, or are you hiking boots?”
She was quiet for a minute, and he didn’t think she was going to answer. “I’m just trying to be me,” she finally said.
“Which is what?”
“I don’t know.” She rubbed her forehead wearily. “I guess, between those two? Diamonds, maybe. I hope.” Her voice was quiet. Exhausted.
He shot her a look, saw her eyes were closed. “You hope? What does that mean?”
“Could you ever like me, really like me, if I was exactly what you think I am? Someone who likes heated mattresses, high heels, and manicures?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think that’s who you really are.” He thought of her out in the woods at the cabin, her family…No, there was more to Kaylie than what she put on. Yeah, she was diamonds. He got that. But his ex-wife was only diamonds, and Kaylie was so much more than Valerie had ever been. Was she different enough from Valerie for it to work between them?
Hell if he knew, but he couldn’t risk going through another Valerie. Just wasn’t going to go there again.
“My family says I’m more than high heels and manicures, but it’s just because they want me to be someone else, not because they’re privy to some inner secret even I don’t know about.” She rolled her head to the side, her eyes half-closed as she regarded him. “Your aversion to someone like me…It’s because of her, isn’t it? She was like me, and then she hurt you?”
“She?”
“Your ex-wife. What’s her name?”
He ground his teeth. “Valerie.”
“Valerie,” she repeated with a yawn. “Well, Valerie tried to change you, didn’t she?”
He nodded. “She did.” His reply was curt.
“She failed.”
He didn’t answer. Yeah, he still flew, but he’d never been the same since his marriage to Valerie. She’d changed him, just not in the way she’d wanted.
“I’ve tried to change adrenaline junkies, too,” Kaylie mumbled. “I always fail. Then they die.” A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye again. “Everyone dies on me,” she whispered. “I’m so tired of it.”
Something tightened in his chest. “I’m not going to die.”
“That’s what they all say. They all lie.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Cort. That’s all I ask.”
He met her gaze. “I never break my promises.”
“You said you weren’t going to die.”
“I’m not.”
She snorted. “Everyone dies sometime. That’s a promise you can’t keep.” She rolled onto her side, leaning against the seat as she studied him. “What happened with Valerie to make you hate me so much?”
“Trust me, everything would be a hell of a lot easier if I did hate you, but I don’t.” Cort ground his jaw, his hands tightening on the wheel. “And Valerie is a long story.”
“So?”
“So, we’re home.” He pulled into the garage next to his house. “Let’s pack and hit the road. We’ll probably be sleeping out at Old Tom’s.”
Kaylie settled more deeply into the seat, a stubborn set to her jaw. “Tell me.”
He dra
ped his forearms over the steering wheel, staring out the windshield, while he thought about what had happened with Valerie. With their son. All the old feelings came back, and he shut them off. Ditched the trip down memory lane. Useless and a waste of energy. “Let’s go. We don’t have time for this.”
“But—”
He got out of the truck and slammed the door.
“Well, hot damn,” a raspy male voice said. “I knew I’d been a good boy today. I just didn’t realize how good.”
Kaylie jerked awake. A older man with gray hair and wrinkled skin was leaning over her, a lascivious gleam in his bloodshot eyes. She scrambled back, fell off the edge of the couch, and leapt to her feet. “I—”
“Tom. Stop scaring my woman.” Cort came around from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand.
My woman. A tingle went through Kaylie on hearing Cort’s words. She knew it was for show, but she couldn’t stop her response.
“Cort, you old bastard. Who gave you the right to invade my house while I was gone?” Tom thumped Cort on the shoulder and helped himself to the coffee. “Hope you made the same strong brew you used to make.”
“Sure did.” Cort glanced over at Kaylie, and their eyes met. They’d barely spoken since they’d left the truck. She’d slept most of the flight here and had fallen asleep on the couch once they’d arrived and let themselves into Old Tom’s cabin.
Granted, it was the middle of the night, but she’d slept mostly to avoid talking to Cort. The conversation in the truck had upset her. Yes, she’d known Cort was an adrenaline junkie, but for him to basically admit he didn’t like her the way she was, to tell her she wasn’t actually who she wanted to be…He was like her family. Like everyone else.
Diamonds or hiking boots? His question still burned in her mind.
Diamonds, right?
But sitting in that bar with Charity, a woman as natural and Alaskan as a woman could get, Kaylie had felt at home. She’d felt, for the first time in a long time, like she belonged. And Luke…Once he’d finished grilling her about her intentions toward Cort, he’d relaxed. Funny, charming, and clearly brilliant. They’d both made her feel welcome.
They hadn’t cared if she was a flier or an adrenaline junkie. They’d just made her feel good.
And dancing with Cort…She looked over at him while he traded insults with Tom. There were shadows under his eyes, his whiskers thick and dark. His hair was tousled, and his face was grim.
Guilt tweaked her belly. She’d been so consumed with herself, so reliant upon Cort for strength, that she hadn’t even thought of what he was facing. Jackson, a dead son, the anniversary of his parents’ death…Cort hadn’t so much as hinted that anything was on his mind, but as she studied him, she saw a great heaviness in his eyes. Weariness. A multitude of emotions he was keeping under tight control.
As if aware of her perusal, his gaze slid to hers. Surprise flickered across his face at whatever he saw in her expression, and his eyes softened before he returned his attention to Tom.
Kaylie sighed and looked up at the ceiling of Tom’s living room. Raw wood beams. It reminded her of Cort’s place, which had made her feel so drained that first night as a blatant reminder of Alaska.
But now it made her think of a night in Cort’s arms, of Charity, of a feeling of belonging she’d had, however brief. Without flying, without climbing, would there be a place for her here?
Not that it mattered. With Cort, with this world, there was no way to be in Alaska without climbing and flying. She hadn’t been able to tolerate parents who lived that life. What made her think she’d be able to survive a man who did?
But she wanted to, didn’t she? Kaylie realized she wanted a chance to try. Oh, God. What was she thinking? The most horrible wave of vulnerability hit her, and she felt raw and exposed, as if she were stranded on a bitterly cold mountaintop without clothes, or—
“How’s the knee?” Cort asked Tom, drawing her attention back into the room.
She took a deep breath, trying to regroup.
“Good as it ever is.” Old Tom limped over to the couch and sat down where Kaylie had been sleeping. “You going to introduce me to your woman, or what? I could have sworn she was mine when I walked in and saw her all bundled up on my couch.”
Cort grinned and held out his hand to Kaylie. One eyebrow went up, and he waited.
A challenge.
She looked down at that hand, callused and weathered. Strong. She knew she was crossing the line by thinking of him as a man, not just as an adrenaline junkie who would destroy her. By allowing herself to see the man beneath, she was digging her own grave.
She should put up barriers. Now. Big ones.
But instead of rejecting Cort’s offer, Kaylie set her hand in his. His palm was warm as it closed around hers. She didn’t resist as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hooked his arm around her neck. “This is Kaylie Fletcher.”
She looked up at him, startled by the possessiveness in his tone. Was it for show, or for real? But Cort was looking at Tom, not at her, and she couldn’t read his expression.
“Yours, eh?” Tom leaned forward, studying her intently. ”Looks a mite fragile for breeding the kind of stock that’ll survive out here. Nice lines though.”
“She’ll do,” Cort agreed, squeezing her tightly, but she felt the sudden tension in his muscles, heard the edge to his voice.
Was it the reference to breeding? Thinking of his son? How did anyone ever get over that kind of loss? No matter how it happened, it would be awful.
Tentatively, she slid her arm around his waist, tucking her hand in waistband of his jeans.
He looked down at her, the same surprise on his face as before. Then his gaze went to her mouth, and her body heated up.
“I only got one bedroom and I’m using it,” Tom announced. “If you two want to get horizontal, you’ll have to do it outside.”
Cort cleared his throat and sat on a lopsided armchair and tugged her down with him. She managed to avoid his lap and perched on the arm instead.
“We’re looking for information,” Cort said. “Kaylie’s family has gone missing on Denali, and rumors say you’re the one who flew them.”
Tom narrowed his eyes at Kaylie. “You here to find a way to sue me for their tragedy?”
“No, no.” She held out her hand, uncomfortable at Tom’s instinct to distrust her as an outsider. Maybe she should give up the jewelry. Try to fit in. God, she didn’t even know who to be anymore. “I just want to find them.”
Tom ignored her. “You bringing shit to my plate, Mc-Claine?”
“No. I’m not.”
Something passed between the two men, and then Old Tom nodded and he leaned back on the couch, took a gulp of his coffee. “Give me the rundown. Who are you looking for?”
“My family was lost on McKinley a week or so ago, from what I can gather. I know my mom and dad and brother were in the party, but I don’t know who else. My mom is Alice Fletcher. My dad’s Kix Fletcher. And my brother is Mason. Did you fly them?”
Tom studied her, and his face grew pensive. He leaned forward, peering at her more closely. “Well, damn it to hell, I knew you looked familiar. You look exactly like her.”
Kaylie sat up. “Like who? My mom? Did you fly her?”
“Fly her?” Tom leaned back with a grin. “Hell, yeah, I flew her. Took her right up to the heavens and back down, more’n once. Yeah, she’s a keeper, that one.”
Kaylie stared at Tom, cold dread settling in her chest as she absorbed the implication of his words. “You mean, you slept with her?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Hell, yeah, I slept with her,” Old Tom said. “Alice is the kind of woman you never forget, no matter how long it’s been.” He gave Kaylie a thoughtful look. “You have that same sparkle in your eyes, missy.”
“Kaylie’s mine, old man. Keep your distance.” Cort’s voice was mild, but a warning in his tone had both her and Tom looking at him.
Ka
ylie moved closer to Cort. Was Tom the one they were looking for? She looked wildly around the room, half expecting to see a bloody knife hanging from the wall. Had there been a snowmobile out front?
Tom burst out laughing, a guttural, untamed sound. “Hot damn, McClaine. You’re as whipped as I was. Take my advice. Don’t let her leave Alaska. They don’t come back.”
Kaylie jerked her attention back to Tom. “You knew my mom before? When she was here thirty years ago?”
Tom raised his gray brows. “You think I slept with her when she was here with her husband? I’m a lot of things, missy, but I don’t go playing in another man’s backyard.” He winked. “At least not when he’s around to catch me.”
Kaylie gripped Cort’s shoulder. She didn’t want Tom to be the killer. She didn’t want to think that she was sitting in the living room of a murderer. Cort’s rifle was still in the plane. They had nothing to defend themselves with. But if it was Tom, wouldn’t he be hiding his relationship with Kaylie’s mom?
“Was there anyone else my mom…” Kaylie stumbled over the words, not used to thinking of her mother as a sexual being. “…slept with before? Someone who was around her this time? Who knew she was back?”
“Anyone else?” Tom took another drink of coffee. “Hate to break it to you, missy, but the line to your mom’s room was damn long back then.”
Cort set his arm across Kaylie’s legs, holding her in place, his hand cupped around her calf. “Did anyone in particular stand out?” he asked. “Someone who didn’t seem too happy to see her again? Or maybe was a little too interested in seeing her?”
Tom studied them, and she could see him thinking. “Why?”
“Because you don’t seem too upset that her party went missing.” Cort’s voice was even. “Seeing as how you were both the pilot and the ex-lover of one of the climbers, seems odd you wouldn’t care that they disappeared.”
The amusement vanished from Tom’s face, and the energy of the room shifted instantly. “Don’t judge me, McClaine. You’re in no place to cast your shit on anyone else. You and me, we’re the same. You forget that because you’ve got a Lower 48 in your bed now and think you’re too good? You already forget what happened last time you went that route?”
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