Ice

by Stephanie Rowe

  She took a breath and snatched the teddy from Bill. The material was fragile with age, and she froze when she heard a tearing sound as she unfolded it. She shot a frantic look at Bill. He looked shocked, and then his face morphed into diabolical fury. He screamed with outrage.

  And then he attacked.

  She lunged for the knife, and Mason did the same. Mason was closer, and his fingers closed over it—

  Horrible pain exploded in her lower body. She looked down, saw another knife embedded in her side.

  “Get the hell away from her!” Mason lunged for Bill, and the two men fell in a fight she knew her brother wouldn’t survive.

  She grabbed the hilt and yanked the knife out of her side, doubling over at the agony. Staggering as she tried to regain her composure, she fisted the weapon and turned, just as Bill threw Mason on his back and drew back the knife Mason had stolen to rake it across his throat.

  “No!” She slammed the knife into Bill’s shoulder. He backhanded her, and she tumbled backward, smacking hard into a rock.

  Stunned, she tried to crawl away as Bill leapt to his feet and came after her. He grabbed her, slammed her against the rock, and ripped at the fly of her jeans.

  Suddenly a plane roared overhead. They both looked up, saw lights bearing down on them out of the night. She slammed her knee into Bill’s stomach and tried to slip past him.

  He caught her ankle, dragged her back toward him.

  The plane swooped down, only feet off the ground, and she realized it was too low. It was headed right for the rock outcropping behind her. “No!” She threw her arms over her head, watching in horror as the plane came right for her.

  Bill didn’t wait. He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, sprinting effortlessly across the rocks.

  He hadn’t made it ten feet when something hit them hard from behind, and they both went flying.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Cort hit the ground with an impact that knocked the air from his lungs. He skidded across the rock, his skin flayed, as he fought to stop himself and leap to his feet. His heart wrenched when he saw Kaylie sprawled on the rocks, and he quickly moved between her and Bill.

  Bill jumped to his feet, blood pouring down his face. “How the fuck are you still alive?” He reared back to throw a knife at Cort, and Cort jerked the rifle up and fired.

  Bill froze, his face twisted into surprise, and then he went down, a red stain spreading across his chest, right over his heart.

  He wouldn’t be getting up from that one.

  Cort slung the rifle over his shoulder and ran for Kaylie as the plane circled around and landed. “Kaylie!”

  She lifted her head, saw him, and her jaw went slack. “Cort?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.” He crouched beside her, pulled off his jacket, and laid it over her. The sight of her battered body…Anger swelled inside him and he glanced over at Bill. Almost hoping he’d move. “I’m here.” He helped her roll over, and his gaze went to the bruises all over her. She was shaking so hard, it felt like her bones were going to shatter. “Jesus, Kaylie—”

  Her hands were on his face, her face shadowed and disbelieving. “I saw you die. How are you here?”

  He caught her hands and kissed her fingertips. “I told you. I’m always in control.” A lie. A total lie. His self-control was about to snap. “Where are you hurt?”

  She was already shaking her head. “No, no, he didn’t.” She held up her arms and he scooped her up, clutching her against his chest. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, just buried his face in her hair. Holding her.

  She pressed herself into his body, her small frame shaking violently. “I thought you were dead,” she whispered. “I saw the plane and I thought…” Her voice broke. “I’ve never felt so awful in my life. I thought…I felt—”

  “Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m fine. I’m here.” He lifted her face and kissed her gently. And again. Her lips…cold but alive. He leaned his forehead against hers, trying to catch his breath. “How bad did he hurt you?” Shit, he could barely ask the question, but he had to know.

  “Not much. I just…” She looked up at him. “If you’d told me you were going to fake your death, and I’d known you were on your way, I might not have been quite so terrified, though.”

  He gave a strangled laugh, astounded by her spirit. “Jesus, I’m so sorry I fucked up.” He cupped her face, his emotions too intense for him to cope with. “But I’ll warn you, you didn’t need to get yourself abducted by a psycho to get me to realize I love you. If you ever do that again, I’m locking you up for at least a month.”

  Despite her gray pallor and the weariness of her eyes, a slow smile lit up her face. “You love me?”

  “I flew into Devil’s Pass for you.” He bent his head and kissed her, a slow, savoring taste of sweetness and honey. “I don’t do that for just anyone,” he whispered against her mouth. He couldn’t pull himself away. He couldn’t stop touching her.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered back. “But I swear to God, I thought my heart had stopped when I saw you crash. I can’t live through that again.”

  He stiffened at her words and pulled back, searching her face for the meaning. Did she mean it had made her realize she couldn’t live with his lifestyle? His fingers tightened in her hair. He knew he had no right to ask, but he couldn’t stop himself. Not after almost losing her. He didn’t care what was best for her. He simply couldn’t live without her.

  “Stay,” he whispered. “Stay with me.”

  She frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

  They were interrupted by Luke’s shout about a survivor, and Kaylie paled. “Mason!” He saw the horror on her face that she’d forgotten about her brother in the midst of her concern about Cort.

  Cort caught her as she tried to slide out of his arms. “No way. I’m carrying you.”

  He didn’t give her time to argue. Just scooped her up, holding her against his chest. She was still trembling, but she didn’t seem to notice him anymore. She pointed back toward the plane. “He’s back there. Hurry!”

  Holding her tightly against him, Cort carried Kaylie swiftly her across the rocks to where Luke was kneeling beside a prone body.

  “Mason!” Kaylie struggled to get free, and Cort allowed her to slide down his body, catching her around the waist when she stumbled.

  “Go check on Bill.” Cort jerked his head back toward where he’d left the bastard. “Make sure he’s dead this time.”

  “I’m on it.” Luke loped off into the darkness as Kaylie reached Mason.

  “Dear God, Mason.” Kaylie fell to her knees beside her brother, leaning over him. “It’s over,” she whispered. “I love you so much. We’re safe now.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t you dare die on me! I’ll be so mad at you!”

  Mason didn’t move, and Cort set his hand on Kaylie’s back. She was still shaking, worse than before. “We have to get you out of here.”

  “No! I’m not leaving him!” She tried to pull away, and Cort wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into the warmth of his body.

  “I meant both of you.” He reached around her, set his fingers on Mason’s neck.

  Waited.

  Kaylie stiffened, her fingers digging into Cort’s arm. “Is he—?”

  Then he felt a faint beat. “Got a pulse. He’s still alive.”

  “Thank God.” Kaylie was on her knees, her legs bare on the wet ground, apparently oblivious to how badly she was shaking, how much she was hurt, focusing only on her brother. “You’re all I have left,” she whispered. “You have to live. Don’t you dare die on me!”

  Cort ground his jaw at her comment. All she had left was Mason. The words spoke volumes. After seeing him almost die, she had put Cort out of her life.

  Luke jogged up. “Bill’s toast.” He crouched down beside Mason. “Shit. This poor bastard’s in tough shape.”

  “Back to the plane with them both.” Cort stood, picking Kaylie up despite her pro
tests. “Hush,” he ordered her. “We’re taking you both back to the plane.”

  Luke picked Mason up, and Kaylie stopped fighting. Sagged against Cort, her head resting on his chest. “Thank you for coming to get us,” she said. “I’ll owe you forever.”

  He scowled. “I didn’t do it so you’d owe me.”

  She lifted her head to look at him. “That’s not what I meant. I just—” Mason groaned, stealing Kaylie’s attention away from Cort. “Mason!”

  Luke was already hiking toward the plane, staggering slightly under the larger man’s weight, and Kaylie urged Cort to hurry.

  He did as directed, a dark mood settling around him.

  He didn’t have to ask.

  He knew the answer.

  She was leaving.

  There was a time he would have thought it was the right call. A relief.

  Not today.

  Today, the idea of her leaving was devastating.

  Hours later, Kaylie found Cort in the hospital cafeteria eating with Luke and Charity.

  She paused in the doorway, her heart aching as she looked at him. He was still in his wet clothes, his face haggard and drawn. Mud spattered his face. He was wearing a clean pair of jeans and boots that Charity had brought for him, as his other ones had nearly burned off.

  He’d refused to let Kaylie in the room while the doctor had examined him, and he’d been completely uncommunicative on the extent of his injuries.

  But Cort hadn’t left Kaylie’s side while the doctor had checked her and cleaned her up. He’d hovered, he’d fussed, and he’d challenged the doctor’s treatment so many times he’d finally been ordered out of her room.

  Not that he’d gone.

  But despite all that, there was a wall between them. One Cort had erected, and Kaylie knew why.

  She’d forced it by her comments about seeing Cort crash, by her remark that Mason was all she had.

  Kaylie sighed, remembering Cort’s expression when he’d dropped her off at Mason’s room. He’d checked with the nurse, demanded information about her brother, and bullied them into letting Kaylie sit with Mason even though he was in critical condition.

  And then Cort left, his face hollow and empty, as if he’d seen death so many times he could no longer rise above it.

  He had left to get something to eat. Two hours later, he still hadn’t returned.

  Hugging herself, Kaylie leaned against the doorframe. She rested her head against the rust-colored wood. Even in the hospital cafeteria, dwarfing a small plastic chair, an exhausted slump to his body, Cort was energy. He was life. He was strength.

  And she loved him.

  He looked up suddenly, his eyes narrowing when he saw her standing there.

  Her heart tightened, and tears filled her eyes at what she knew she had to do.

  Charity turned and waved, gesturing Kaylie to come over. Charity had been at the hospital all night supporting Kaylie and Cort. She could become a true friend, if Kaylie stayed. “Come eat,” Charity called.

  Kaylie shook her head. “Cort. Can I talk to you?”

  He looked at Luke and Charity, then shoved his chair back and walked over to Kaylie. “How are you feeling?” His voice was cool, detached, and she knew it was her fault.

  “I’m okay.” God, his presence was overwhelming. She wanted to sink into the heat of his body, let him kiss her and touch her and wipe away the memories of Bill. Of the awful night. Tears suddenly sprung, unexpected.

  Cort sighed and reached out, folding her into his body.

  She buried her face against his chest. She took solace in his musky scent, allowing his strength to wrap around her.

  “How’s your brother?” he asked.

  “He’s probably going to live, but they don’t know the extent of permanent damage. They’re not sure if they can save the leg. They’re flying him to Seattle tomorrow for a specialist to operate on him.” She didn’t lift her face from Cort’s shirt. “It will break him if he loses the leg. If he can’t ever climb again. I have to go with him. He has no one else.”

  Cort said nothing, but a muscle ticked in his chest.

  “I also have to take my parents’ bodies back with me. I need to arrange the funeral.”

  He made a guttural sound of pain, and he stroked his hand over her hair. “I’m so sorry about them.”

  She lifted her face, found him looking down at her, dark shadows in his eyes. “Since they’re flying Mason out tomorrow morning, I can’t stay for Sara and Jackson’s funeral. Will you say good-bye for me?”

  “Yeah.” Cort tucked her hair behind her ear, his touch gentle. “Sara knows, though. I don’t need to say anything.”

  Kaylie pressed her face into his palm, into the tenderness of his touch. God, she needed him. So much. “Can I stay at your place tonight? Before I go?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I know I’m leaving, and I have no right to ask you. But I—” She swallowed. “I need you to touch me tonight. To give me new memories after Bill.”

  Understanding hardened the lines of Cort’s face, and Kaylie saw raw pain in his eyes. Anguish for what had been done to her, for what she had suffered—because he cared that much.

  No one had ever cared that she was hurt before.

  They had only cared that she was afraid of being hurt.

  Cort tangled his fingers in her hair and bent his head. A gentle kiss, full of promise. A sensual oath to give her a night of tender loving that would wipe away all bad memories, replacing them with only him.

  But there was reserve in that kiss, and she knew he was holding a part of himself back. She realized what she was asking of him was unfair. Not just unfair. Horrible, after what Valerie had to done to him. After what he’d sacrificed to save her. After…

  She pulled back, breaking the kiss. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not right.”

  He turned away, and she closed her eyes at his silent rejection. It was for the best. Spending the night with him, knowing she had to walk away for her brother’s sake, would be too hard. It was selfish of her to ask—

  “I need your truck,” Cort said. “Kaylie and I are heading back to my place.”

  Her eyes snapped open as Luke tossed his car keys to Cort. He snagged them out of the air, then took Kaylie’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  Kaylie caught a glimpse of Charity’s wide grin, and then Cort pulled her out the door.

  Cort shut the door to his bedroom. He leaned back against it as Kaylie turned to face him. Her face was bruised, her hair still matted with mud, and her skin was pale.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” He reached out, trailed his finger down the side of her face, then cupped her chin and lowered his mouth to hers.

  Her response was instant and fierce, sinking right into his core.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered to him.

  His hands snaked out and he pulled her against him, fighting the urge to take her, to consume her. He needed to be gentle, patient, loving. Tender. For her sake. Give her a chance to take a shower. Clean up.

  But the thought of how close he’d come to losing her, the idea she was leaving in the morning…

  A deep, carnal need to take her roared over him. He needed to make her his, to brand her as his forever, so she knew she belonged to him no matter how far away she went, no matter how much distance she put between them.

  He fought to control himself. Struggled against the need. For her. This night was for her.

  “Don’t hold back.” Kaylie pulled back, her eyes full of need. Of passion. Of desperation. “I need this.”

  The last shreds of his discipline broke, and he had her up against the door in a split second. He crushed his body against hers. His kiss was so deep and so penetrating, but still not enough. He needed more, and he opened himself to her. Consumed her. Inhaled her life force. Drank of her essence. Sucked all she was into his being. He basked in the feel of her body, the heat of her skin, the lingering expanse of her flesh as he peeled her cl
othes off, never breaking contact with her, never lifting his mouth from hers.

  Her hands were as insistent as his. She yanked at his shirt, palmed his chest, his shoulders, his back, everywhere she could reach.

  Clothes shed, he lifted her against him. Her legs went around his hips, and she sank onto him, taking him so deeply they both groaned. It was perfection, rapture, bliss, all of those poetic notions that had never made sense to him before.

  Before now.

  Bracing them both against the door, he withdrew, then drove again, deeper and harder. Fiercer.

  “Yes. Like that.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her head back against the wood, her gaze locked on his. “I love you.”

  The words struck at the core of his being, ripping apart his defenses. The orgasm came fast and hard, and he held on to her as she came in his arms, as they clung to each other as if nothing could tear them apart.

  But he knew better.

  Muscles shaking, he leaned his forehead against hers, the aftershocks still rippling through his body.

  She looped her hands around his neck.

  “I could come with you,” he said finally.

  She lifted her head, surprise on her face. “To Seattle?”

  He nodded. Feeling uncertain for the first time in his life. “If you need me.”

  “But what about your business? All the clients?”

  He shrugged. “There are other pilots. I’d shift them off.”

  She stared at him, her eyes glistening. “You would die in the city, Cort. You know you would.”

  He ran his hands down her spine, knowing she spoke the truth. Knowing also that he couldn’t just let her go. Old Tom’s words rang in his mind like the wail of a siren. Don’t let her leave Alaska. They don’t come back.

  She searched his face. “I need to do this by myself. I need to help my brother. I need to do this.”

  He ground his jaw. Said none of the things he wanted to say. “I understand.”

  And he did.

  Because there was something else he needed to do for himself. There was one more flight he had to make.