On Thin Ice

by Debra Lee Brown

  The lights were on, but Salvio wasn’t there. Seth hadn’t expected him to be. He’d be out at the fire, making sure it burned that warehouse to the ground.

  It only took him fifteen seconds to pick the lock on Salvio’s desk drawer. And there it was, right where he’d thought it would be. He grabbed his Glock and stuffed it into his jeans at the small of his back. Just in case. Though he didn’t plan on meeting up with anyone on his way back out to the storage building where he’d left Lauren.

  The Altex crew manifest caught his eye on the bulletin board above Salvio’s desk. He pocketed it, then spent a few seconds looking for a particular set of keys he thought for sure would be in the drawer. They weren’t. Silently he cursed.

  Okay, fine. He didn’t need them. He checked his watch—it had been ten minutes already. Lauren wasn’t the kind of woman who sat back and did nothing while all hell was breaking loose around her. He admired that about her, but he worried, too, that she’d do something stupid, like not wait for him. That she’d confront Salvio on her own.

  As he made his way back around the storage building and between the metal drums, he prayed to God she was still there.

  “Seth!” Lauren was on her feet before he got to her.

  “Come on. Let’s go.” He took her hand and led her around to the front of the building.

  “Where?”

  They’d have to cross over a hundred feet of open space to get to the rig. The visibility was poor and, even if anyone saw them, they wouldn’t be recognized. Everyone wore the same company-issued survival jackets. Navy-blue canvas with metallic stripes on the arms. The hoods were generous and trimmed in fur; their faces would be covered.

  “Around back.” He pointed past the rig. “Let’s go.”

  He dropped her hand as they crossed the yard, so that if anyone did see the two of them pointed into the wind, high-tailing it toward the rig, they wouldn’t be suspicious.

  She followed him into the narrow slot between the pipe shed and the rig, which led to the back of the site. He didn’t stop, or give her any other opportunity to question him.

  He’d made the decision when they were lying in the snowbank, his heart racing out of control, their breath frosting the air. She’d clutched at his shirt, looked up at him with doelike eyes, and what he read in them left him no choice but this one.

  They came out on the other side of the rig, and she grabbed his arm to stop him. “Seth, where are we going?”

  “Here. Right here.” He dropped the duffel bag and nodded toward the tanklike vehicle sitting at the edge of the ice pad, where the island flowed seamlessly into the frozen Beaufort Sea.

  “That’s the Rolligon.”

  It was the only way now. The ice road leading back to Deadhorse hadn’t been maintained, and Seth suspected that was by design. They wouldn’t make it a mile in one of the SUVs Tiger kept on site. The Rolligon had huge, low-pressure tires that were meant to drive across uneven terrain like tundra, frozen or otherwise. This was their ticket out.

  He dropped the duffel bag, climbed onto the steps leading up to the small cab, and jerked open the door. “Give me your hand.”

  “What are you doing?” He could barely hear her over the wind, but he recognized that rigid stance, her gloved fists balled at her sides.

  “We’re leaving the island. You and me. Now.”

  “What are you talking about? I can’t leave. That fire was set on purpose. We’ve got to—”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her forcibly up beside him. Her feet scrambled for traction on the metal steps. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what?” She glanced at her arm, his iron grip. “You’re…hurting me.”

  “Get in.”

  “No!”

  “Get in the cab, Lauren.” He didn’t wait for her reply. Hooking one arm around the handhold on the outside of the cab, and another around her waist, he hoisted her up and onto the bench seat.

  “You’re out of your—”

  “Slide over.” He retrieved the duffel bag, swung in beside her and slammed the door. For a few seconds both of them just sat there, breathing hard, reveling in the simple fact that they were at least out of the wind.

  She threw back her hood and gave him one of those “Well?” looks.

  “That explosion was meant to kill. The second Salvio finds out it didn’t, that you’re still alive…” He didn’t think he had to spell it out for her.

  He could tell by the expression on her face that she hadn’t thought that far ahead. He had. And he knew that Salvio wouldn’t stop until they were both dead.

  Salvio had found Seth’s department-issue weapon and knew by now he wasn’t just a roughneck from Kachelik. It made sense that Salvio wanted him out of the picture. But why Lauren? He’d find out, but now was not the time.

  “We’ll go to Deadhorse for help,” she said.

  “It’s too far. Kachelik’s only fifty miles, give or take.”

  “Your village.”

  “Yeah.” He climbed over her into the driver’s seat and studied the instrument panel and controls.

  “You can drive this?”

  “Probably.”

  He knew from the look on her face she was scared. “These things only go about ten miles an hour don’t they?”

  “Yeah.”

  She spotted the CB radio tucked under the dash and reached for the receiver.

  “Don’t even think about it. We’re out of range of everything except the camp at Caribou Island, and once Salvio realizes there aren’t two dead bodies in the rubble of that warehouse, and that his Rolligon is missing, he’ll be scanning every channel.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be okay.” He smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. “As long as I can get this thing started.”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean you don’t have the key?”

  “No.” He shucked his gloves and the borrowed jacket, and slapped his Glock onto the dash.

  “Oh, my God. That’s a gun.”

  “Yeah.” He slid under the steering wheel, ripped off the cover housing fuses and starter wires, and went to work.

  “Is it…loaded?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  She said nothing to that, only watched him as he cut and stripped wires with a penknife and twisted them together.

  “You can hot-wire this?”

  A few seconds later the diesel engine sputtered to life. They didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing it. The sound would be masked by the wind and the huge generators rumbling on the rig and in camp.

  “Okay,” he said as he readjusted himself on the seat. “We’re outta here.”

  She looked at the gun, her eyes as wide as he’d ever seen them, then met his gaze. “You’ve got something to do with all this, haven’t you?”

  “All what?” He cranked up the heat full blast, and shook off a chill that ran bone deep.

  “You knew the warehouse was going to blow up, that Salvio and those roustabouts were up to something. That—”

  He threw the vehicle into reverse and it lurched backward.

  “Wait a minute!”

  “What?”

  “I can’t leave without—” She tossed his duffel bag to the floor and slid toward the passenger side door. “I’m going back to my trailer.”

  “The hell you are.” He grabbed her arm.

  “You don’t understand. I left something there. Something important. I’ve got to get it!” Her gaze darted to his hand clamped around her arm, to his gun sitting on the dash, then turned on him. “Who are you? And how do you know so much?” She nodded toward the nest of wires he’d rerouted to start the vehicle.

  He’d have to tell her sometime, but not now. He shrugged. “Every teenage boy in the world can hot-wire a car.”

  That seemed to satisfy her, but she still looked edgy, her hand gripping the door handle. “I’ll say it again. There’s something in my trailer I need to get. It will only take a minute.”<
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  He pulled her toward him across the seat, and maintained his grip on her as he maneuvered the Rolligon to the edge of the ice pad. “No way. You’re not going back there.”

  She stared at the gun and ground her teeth behind thinned lips. More than anything, he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, hold her, tell her that everything was going to be all right. But he didn’t.

  “Was it you?” she said, still staring at the gun. “Did you kill Paddy?”

  He hit the brakes as the vehicle slid over the side of the ice pad and down onto the frozen sea. “No.” He slipped his hand into hers. “Look at me, Lauren.” She did. “I didn’t kill Paddy, and I’m not involved in whatever the hell is going on out here with Salvio and the others.”

  They sat there idling for a moment and just looked at each other. “I believe you,” she said at last. “It’s just that…” Again she looked at the gun.

  “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

  She stared out the window in the direction of her trailer, as he flipped on a navigational device and steered the Rolligon east toward Kachelik.

  Blowing snow pummeled the windshield. He couldn’t see a dozen feet in front of them, and didn’t dare turn on the vehicle’s headlights until they were well away from the site.

  They’d be lucky if they made the village sometime tomorrow. Lucky if they made it at all, he corrected himself when he saw that they had barely half a tank of fuel. It would have to be enough.

  At last Lauren settled back on the bench seat, resigned to his plan, and removed her jacket and gloves. He exhaled in relief. At least they were getting out of here. At least she’d be safe. He owed her that much, after having thought for the better part of a week that she was a killer and an embezzler.

  But if not her, then who? He’d asked himself that question a hundred times in the past few days. Salvio, sure. But who at Tiger was the mastermind? Who made the deals and handled the money.

  Money.

  As they disappeared into the night, swallowed up by an endless expanse of frozen sea and blowing snow, she interrupted his thoughts to ask him one more thing.

  “You wouldn’t lie to me about any of this, would you Seth?”

  Chapter 13

  S he looked like an angel.

  Lauren sighed in her sleep, curled up next to him on the bench seat of the Rolligon. His jacket, which she’d been using as a blanket, slid to the floor of the cab. Seth tucked it back around her and brushed her hair back from her face. He wanted to watch her expression as she dreamed. Like an idiot, he wondered if she was dreaming about him.

  Yeah, right.

  They’d talked last night until four in the morning, when exhaustion had finally caught up with her, and the motion of the all-terrain vehicle lulled her into sleep. He checked his watch. 9:00 a.m. He could barely keep his eyes open. He hadn’t had a wink since yesterday afternoon, and the environmental conditions did nothing to improve his alertness.

  The Rolligon crawled across the tundra toward Kachelik at a snail’s pace. From the mileage, and the short rise they’d climbed about an hour ago, Seth figured they were on land now, though you couldn’t really tell in winter, given the flat, snow-swept expanse of the arctic plain.

  Visibility had improved, but he could still only see about twenty feet ahead of the vehicle. The rumble of the diesel engine sounded more and more like a lullaby to him. He was in desperate need of sleep. He kept himself awake by looking at Lauren, her face illuminated by the soft amber lights of the instruments on the dash.

  It was his fault they were out here. If Salvio hadn’t found his gun…

  He’d known it was a risk to carry it on this kind of undercover assignment, where he lived and worked in close contact with so many others. But he hadn’t known what to expect, and wanted to be ready in case there was trouble.

  Besides, he hadn’t forgotten how Doyle Bledsoe had hung him and his partner out to dry on that last case they’d worked together. No way was he ever going to let Bledsoe, or anyone, do that to him again.

  Lauren sighed again and snuggled closer. Her head rested on his thigh. He had to force himself to keep both hands on the wheel.

  You wouldn’t lie to me about any of this, would you Seth?

  He’d avoided answering her question last night, but he wouldn’t be able to avoid it much longer. He had to tell her who he was and why he was out here with her. But not yet.

  He’d finally gotten her to trust him, and he discovered that earning that trust was more important to him than he’d realized it would be—and not because of the case.

  Christ, it was impossible.

  He reminded himself that, no matter what she said, no matter what he thought about her, they led lives that were worlds apart on every level. He also reminded himself that she was with him only because there was no one else. She was alone, vulnerable, and her life was on the line. She had to trust him. Besides, he hadn’t really given her a choice.

  Which one of them would she choose, he wondered, if she wasn’t stuck out here alone with him with no one else to turn to? In the light of day, under normal circumstances when her life wasn’t turned upside down, would she choose him or Crocker Holt?

  He watched her as she drew a deep, restful breath, as her eyes opened and focused on his.

  “Hi,” she whispered in a sleepy, sexy voice.

  “Hey.”

  She lay there, looking up at him, and smiled. “Where are we?”

  “Don’t know exactly. Somewhere between Caribou Island and Kachelik.” He glanced at their mileage and the fuel gauge on the panel. “We haven’t come as far as I’d hoped.”

  She sat up and squinted against the headlight glare reflecting off the blowing snow and ice.

  “Hell, we could have walked it faster, but at least in here we’re warm.”

  She noticed his jacket around her and gently pushed it to the side. “Thanks,” she said, smoothing the fur of the hood.

  “Feel better?”

  “Rested, but not better, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah.” Only he didn’t even feel rested.

  “I still can’t believe what happened.”

  “Believe it. Salvio wanted you dead, Lauren.” He watched her expression cloud as the truth of things sank in. “Why?”

  She didn’t answer right away, just stared out the window, thinking. At last she shook her head. “I’m not sure. Something’s going on that he doesn’t want me to know about.”

  If she only knew. “Like what?”

  His Glock was still on the dash where he’d put it. She stared at it for a moment, then said, “Why do you have that?”

  He was overly conscious about lying to her now, and didn’t like the sick feeling he had in his gut when he thought about how big a hole he’d dug for himself with her. But it wasn’t the time or the place to give up the truth. Not yet.

  He still had a job to do, and somewhere in the back of his mind he held on to the hope that if he did it, and did it well, the reward would justify the means.

  He searched for a plausible answer. “You’ve been around. You know why. You work in the Arctic, you carry a gun.”

  “For the bears, you mean.”

  “Yeah.” He knew from the look on her face that she didn’t believe him.

  “Why were you out there, in the warehouse with those crates?”

  He shrugged. “When my shift started, Salvio told me to get my butt out there and help Pinkie and Bulldog.”

  “He wanted you dead, too, then. Why you?”

  He looked at her, remembering the feel of her legs wrapped around his hips that night in the lab, how she tasted, the smell of her. “He saw us together more than once. Maybe that was enough of a reason.”

  She looked away, and he knew she was thinking about it, too. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She reached for his duffel bag sitting on the floor of the cab. “Do you have anything to eat in here?”

  He hit the brakes, and thrust his arm
out to keep her from lurching forward. “I’ll get it.” The last thing he wanted her to see was the rock hammer buried inside. He rummaged around in his bag and produced a couple of energy bars. “Peanut butter or chocolate.”

  She smiled. “Peanut butter.”

  He stowed the duffel bag in the small space behind the bench seat, and they went to work on their breakfast.

  “I would have pegged you for chocolate,” he said after they’d finished. “Expensive chocolate.”

  “No way. Peanut butter’s my favorite.”

  He would have never thought that about her. “What else is your favorite?”

  She gave him a funny look, then smiled. “All right. I’ll play.”

  “Play what?”

  “Favorite things. My dad and I played it all the time when I was a kid.”

  “Favorite things?”

  Her eyes lit up. Her smile bloomed like a summer wild-flower across her face. In the pit of his stomach he felt something else now. Something that scared the hell out of him.

  “Sure. I’ll start.” She swiveled toward him on the seat and pulled her legs up under her. “Favorite color.”

  “Mine?”

  She nodded.

  “Blue. But not regular blue. Midnight blue—like the night sky when the stars first come out.”

  “Mine’s green.”

  “Dark green, like the forest.”

  “How did you know?”

  He shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

  She smiled again. This time he smiled back.

  “Favorite place,” she said.

  “That’s easy. Alaska.”

  “Me, too.”

  If she would have told him that a week ago, he’d have never believed her. But now, looking at her sitting there in her father’s old sweater, her hair mussed from sleep, her face lit with adrenaline, he knew it was true.

  “Favorite animal. Cat or dog?” he said.

  “I don’t really know. Dog, I guess. But Mother wouldn’t allow me to have one growing up. And now, well…Crocker doesn’t like pets. Too messy, he says. Too much trouble.”

  Yeah, I’ll bet. Wouldn’t want dog hair in his Mercedes.

  “What about you?”

  He focused on the tundra outside and thought about how much to tell her. “I have a dog.”