Footprints in the Snow

by Cassie Miles

  She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, hoping to return to her vision of Roberto. But she saw nothing, heard nothing unusual. Once when she fell into this disembodied trance state, she’d heard Beethoven. Another time, there were soft, pink rose petals.

  Luke returned to her side. In his white surgical mask and gown, he looked very much like a doctor.

  “How are they?” she asked.

  “It would have been a lot worse if they hadn’t been wearing flak jackets. One of them is in bad shape. Lucky for us that Dr. Schultz knows his stuff.” He pulled off his mask. “Do you know anything about giving injections?”

  “No.” And she was not about to take a crash course in medical procedure. “Why?”

  “They need more transfusions,” he said as he stood. “And I’m a universal donor.”

  She remembered reading his dog tag on their first night together. He was P for Protestant, and his blood type was O negative. “Surely, you’re not intending to open a vein?”

  “Don’t make it sound so dramatic. This is a simple procedure.”

  Maybe for him. She’d only given blood twice in her life. Both times, she’d nearly passed out. There was something peculiar and awful about watching your own blood drain through a tube.

  She followed him into an examination room with a cot and a lot of medical equipment arrayed care lessly on the countertop. He gathered the necessary supplies quickly. “I’ve done this before.”

  “Half the blood we have on hand is from me. Usually, there’s somebody else to stick in the needle, but I can do it myself.”

  He rolled up his sleeve revealing his muscular wrist and forearm. One-handed, he tied off his upper arm with rubber tubing and swabbed the inside of his elbow. “Once I find the vein, I want you to use tape to secure the needle. Can you do that?”

  “I’ll try,” she said gamely. Shana had just watched a man die. She’d waded through pooling blood on the hardwood floor in the main house. Surely, she could avoid being squeamish about a needle. “You’ll have to tell me how to do this.”

  He sat on the edge of the cot with the catheter needle poised above his arm. Slowly and deliberately, he inserted the needle into a vein. He didn’t flinch.

  For Shana, this moment defined Luke’s heroism more than when he had a gun in his hand. He was a healer, willing to give himself to save one of his men.

  Within seconds, his blood flowed through the catheter into the plastic IV bag.

  “Tape it here,” he said. “Be careful not to dislodge the needle.”

  Though her hands were shaky, she managed it. “You should lie down now.”

  He stretched out on the cot. The mud from his boots smeared across the white sheets. “When that bag is full, I’ll tell you how to replace it with another.”

  “How much blood are you intending to take?”

  “Usually it’s only a pint,” he said. “Right now, we need two.”

  “Is that safe?”

  “The human body has about six quarts of blood. I’ll only be losing one.”

  She pulled up a chair to sit beside him. Her fingers laced through his free hand, and she gently stroked the area above his wrist. The crisp hair on his arm was darker than the sandy brown hair that fell across his forehead. She knew the secrets of his body so very well. The arrowing pattern of hair on his chest. The scars on his upper chest and shoulder where he’d been shot. Every feature was branded into her memory.

  Her memories shattered when Captain Hughes lurched into the room. His eyes were red, as if he hadn’t slept for days. He smelled like old sweat and something else. Liquor?

  “Well, Rawlins,” he snarled, “your plans to guard Fermi didn’t exactly work, did they? I’ve got two dead spies to explain. And two seriously wounded soldiers.”

  Luke exhaled a sigh. “No sir, my plan wasn’t a success.”

  Even though Captain Hughes was obviously on his last legs, she wouldn’t allow him to march in here with accusations. Shana piped up, “It could have been a hell of a lot worse.”

  The captain swung his head and focused on her. “How so, Miss Parisi?”

  “If Dr. Fermi had been in his room instead of down the hall in the conference room, the Russians might have grabbed him and gotten away clean.” Her tone was calm and rational. “If the wounded soldiers hadn’t been wearing flak jackets, they might be dead right now.”

  “There’s another way we’re lucky,” Luke said. “Dr. Schultz is a surgeon.”

  “Strange definition of luck,” Hughes muttered. “You know there’s going to be an official inquiry into this incident.”

  “Investigation is needed.” Though Luke lay flat on his back, his voice was assertive. “In fact, we need an immediate investigation.”

  “Why? All the spies are in custody.”

  “As I told you before, someone on the inside gave information to the Russians, telling them Fermi was here. I know this because the spies arrived in Aspen before Fermi arrived on base. They anticipated his trip here.”

  “His visit to Camp Hale was top secret. Are you saying we have a leak?”

  “Yes.” Luke watched the plastic tubing carrying his blood to the bag, willing that fluid to move faster. The wounded men needed transfusions.

  “That bears looking into,” Hughes said. “If someone in the chain of top secret information talked to the spies, the army needs to know.”

  “The traitor could be closer to home.” Luke didn’t want to make this accusation because it meant someone at Camp Hale was working with the enemy. He didn’t want to believe that one of his men was a traitor. “Someone helped the spies get our uniforms.”

  “Blame yourself for that breach,” the captain said. “You had every man working guard duty on the main house. It was easy for the Russians to slip inside the supply room and procure extra uniforms.”

  “Is that how it happened?” Shana asked.

  “The supply room was broken into,” Hughes said, “and the uniforms came from there.”

  “But nobody actually saw the break-in. Nobody saw the Russians within the boundaries of Camp Hale,” she pointed out. “With everyone on high alert, how could they approach? They would have been noticed.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “That the Russians paid someone to bring the uniforms to them.”

  “None of my men are traitors,” he coldly informed her. “This SNAFU was a direct result of too many men going in too many different directions.”

  “Oh, please,” she said. “That explanation sucks.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If Luke hadn’t placed all those men on guard duty, Fermi would be gone right now. You’d have a much bigger problem to explain.”

  Luke groaned inwardly. Obviously, Shana had no concept of proper respect.

  She continued, “Luke did everything right. And you’ve got two foreign spies in your custody. They just might have intelligence useful to our country. You should be thanking Luke. Instead of reprimanding him, you should give this man a medal.”

  Hughes looked down his nose at her. “Exactly how many medals does our hero need?”

  “You tell me.” She stood to confront him. “I’ve heard that you served in the D-day invasion. You know the worst horror of war. Fermi’s atomic bomb could help bring an end to this slaughter.”

  “A bigger bomb to end a war.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Hell of a concept, Miss Parisi.”

  “Would you rather have Fermi’s experiments in Russian hands?”

  “I’ve heard enough.” The captain raised a hand to his temple. His fingertips massaged at the edge of his hairline. “Sergeant Rawlins, we’ll discuss this later. As of now, you’re no longer in command.”

  He turned on his heel and stalked from the room. Luke listened as the sound of his footsteps receded down the corridor. The outer door slammed.

  “Sorry if I made things worse,” Shana said. “I couldn’t sit here and listen to that slacker captain give you a hard time.”


  “You did good.” Not only was she beautiful and smart but also eloquent. She’d defended him better than he could defend himself. “I think you missed your calling. You could have been a damn good lawyer.”

  “But I hate arguing. I like for everything to be calm, rational and peaceful.”

  “That’s not likely to happen.”

  He had a nasty feeling that Shana’s assessment was correct: there was a traitor at Camp Hale. A traitor who provided the uniforms used by the Russians. Fermi wasn’t safe. Not yet.

  Earlier, Luke had suspected Dr. Douglas of being involved with the spies. Douglas was intelligent enough to be a mastermind. Plus, Fermi trusted him. But would Douglas allow himself to be captured, trussed up and helpless? Plus, Dr. Douglas and Dr. Schultz had both been under guard. They couldn’t have taken the stolen uniforms to the Russians—not unless they were working with someone else, someone who could easily approach the supply room.

  Luke had to face the painful truth. The traitor was one of his own men. Whoever it was, he’d sold out Fermi and Luke and his country. For what? Probably money. A reward for turning over the genius who had invented a bomb powerful enough to destroy a city could be astronomical. If somebody like Martin had been offered a big payoff, he might be tempted.

  Though Luke had been formally relieved of his command position, he wasn’t done protecting Fermi.

  Shana approached him with an army blanket she’d found in a storage closet by the door. Tenderly, she tucked it around him.

  “I’m not cold,” he said.

  “Of course you are. I’m cold so you must be.”

  This feminine logic—no matter how misguided—was unstoppable. Luke didn’t bother to argue.

  “It’s strange,” she said. “When I was on the staircase with Fermi and Henry, it was almost snowing. But I didn’t feel cold at all.”

  “That’s a battle response. Your body is so focused on action, that you don’t feel much of anything.” When he looked up at her delicate features, he found it difficult to believe that this lady could take out an armed Russian spy. “How’d you disarm him, tigress?”

  “Karate,” she said. “It’s a type of fighting that everybody is going to know about in the future. My company made me take classes before I was stationed in Kuwait.”

  “Why?”

  “Terrorists,” she said. “Those are the enemies in my era, and they don’t hesitate to attack civilians. When I was working in an area where they were active, I needed to be prepared to defend myself. It’s weird that I never used that training until now.”

  “Henry can’t stop talking about it. He thinks you’re pretty doggone amazing.”

  Lowering her face near his, she whispered, “And what do you think?”

  “I know you’re amazing.”

  Her soft lips joined with his, and a gentle warmth spread through his body. He wanted to be with her tonight, to peel away her baggy fatigues and revel in her sweet, sexy arms. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a realistic possibility. After tonight, the entire base was focused on Shana and her karate skills. They had no privacy.

  She pulled away from him. “What do we do next?”

  “Make love.” He felt his lips curve in a grin. The loss of blood was making him a little loopy.

  “I’d like that.” She caressed his forehead. “I wish we could make love. Now. And later. All night.”

  As his blood drained through the IV, Luke knew he was weakening. Concentration took an effort. “But we need to make sure Fermi is safe.”

  “There must be enough guards,” she said. “Even Captain Hughes couldn’t mess that up.”

  She was probably right. Tonight, with the Russians locked up in the guardhouse, Fermi would be well-protected, even if there was a traitor at Camp Hale. Nobody would dare make a move tonight with the men on high alert. “What about tomorrow?” he murmured.

  “The plane is supposed to arrive at noon,” she said. “We tuck Fermi and his two buddies inside, and that’s that. They’re on their way back to New Mexico.”

  “Unless the snow picks up.”

  Not even the hotshot fighter pilots from the Army Air Corps would attempt a landing in blizzard conditions. Safe evacuation by aircraft should be treated as a remote possibility. Luke needed a backup plan.

  Tonight, he’d make a phone call to Jack Swenson—world-class skier and expert marksman. Jack could be trusted. He’d pick up Fermi first thing tomorrow morning and drive away from Camp Hale before the traitor knew what hit him.

  Satisfied with that solution, Luke turned his attention to another pressing issue. Shana’s safety. She’d betrayed the Russian; that action might make her a target for revenge.

  He glanced toward the IV bag on the pole. Almost full. “When we’re done here, I want to take you to the cabin.”

  “Just the two of us?”

  He nodded. “I don’t want to spend the entire night worrying about whether or not the traitor will come after you.”

  He had another reason for returning to the cabin. His photograph of Roberto was missing from his wallet, and the last time he remembered seeing it was at the cabin. That picture represented the most important reason he continued to fight. The most important? Not anymore.

  Shana was his reason for living. She gave him a glimpse into the future—a future that included her as part of his life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  At ten minutes past ten o’clock, Luke nodded to the armed guard who was posted outside Shana’s room. “Good evening, Henry.”

  The skinny private who had grown up a lot in the past few days gave him a grin. “Good evening, sir.”

  “Do you remember what we talked about earlier?”

  “You bet your bottom dollar.” He winked as he checked his wristwatch. “I was just about to take a little break. Maybe fifteen minutes or so.”

  “Thanks, Henry.”

  That fifteen minutes would give Luke enough time to make his getaway with Shana. The best way to protect her from the traitorous threat at Camp Hale was to leave. They’d be safe at the cabin.

  He paused with his hand on the doorknob, aware of another factor that was driving him—an indefinable urgency. He was supposed to take her to the cabin tonight. It was their fate, their destiny.

  Why? He didn’t know.

  What did he expect to happen? That, too, was a mystery.

  But he was one hundred percent certain that they had to be at the cabin. It was the first step in an inevitable chain of events that must happen.

  He slipped into her room. She’d shed her baggy olive-drab fatigues and dressed in the fitted ski pants, turtleneck and boots she’d worn the first time he saw her. Her twenty-first century clothing?

  She rushed into his arms and hugged him tightly. “Luke, do we have to go tonight? It’s cold out there.”

  “I know.”

  “We can stay here and barricade the door. The Russians are locked up in the guardhouse. We ought to be safe tonight.”

  The thought of staying here and lying beside her on the bed was pretty damned seductive. After giving two pints of blood, he was exhausted. It’d be heaven to just lie here and close his eyes. But he couldn’t do that, couldn’t ignore the urge that was driving him. “I can’t explain it, but I have an instinct. We need to be at the cabin tonight. We’re supposed to be there.”

  She studied his face for a moment, then solemnly nodded. “I trust your instincts. Let’s move.”

  They gathered up her skis. At the end of the corridor, they exited outside. The looming blizzard hadn’t yet struck, but the skies were dark and cloudy. No moon tonight.

  In minutes, they descended the staircase to the spot where he’d left his own cross-country skis, all waxed and ready to go. With his skis on his shoulder, he led her past the mess hall and the infirmary where the two wounded men were doing well and were expected to recover. Beyond the last of the barracks, the pathways were no longer cleared.

  They fastened their skis into their bindings and
set out across the open terrain that led to the forests where the snipers had been hiding. A heavy wind coiled around him. Brittle crystals of snow stung his cheeks.

  Squinting, he peered into the thick wall of trees where the sniper had been hiding. The threat from the Russians was over, but he couldn’t shake his wariness. Someone was watching.

  Someone in Camp Hale was a traitor, dangerous and vengeful. Luke turned and looked over his shoulder. Shana was struggling to keep up with him. Behind her, he saw only the shadows from the camp. There was no sign that anyone was following. Even if they came later, the wind and the light snow would cover the tracks from their skis. He and Shana would be able to disappear tonight. They’d be safe.

  Breathing hard, she stopped behind him. “Skiing in the dark is hard. I can’t see all the little bumps and ridges.”

  “Once we get into the forest, we’ll be able to take off our skis. There’s only a couple of inches of snow left between the trees.”

  “Good,” she said with a gasp.

  “Then we can hike. Uphill.”

  “Swell,” she muttered. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  It was the opposite. He’d gladly lay down his life to keep her safe. Digging in with his poles, he went forward.

  This route to his cabin was longer than the other way, but the hills weren’t so steep and they were farther from the service roads and the normal activity of Camp Hale.

  By the time they reached the final approach through the trees, his mind had gone numb. Without conscious thought, his physical training directed his movements. His heartbeat synchronized with the forward motion of his skis. Left, then right, then left. He stopped and waited for Shana to catch up.

  “We’re almost there,” he assured her.

  “Hooray,” she said weakly.

  A sliver of moonlight cut through the clouds and shone upon her. Her face was pink from exertion and cold. Her dark eyes glittered. She was a far different woman from the wounded little bird he’d rescued on the slopes when they first met. Shana could handle anything life threw at her; she was the strongest woman he’d ever known. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”