Grave Vengeance

by Lori Sjoberg

  “Good enough. What do you have in mind?”

  He quickly scanned the area. Most of the trees nearby were small and spindly, but the maples about twenty feet back looked solid. He hooked his hands under Prescott’s armpits and started dragging him into the woods. “Grab the woman. I want them bound and gagged before we move on.”

  After binding the two reapers and tying them to a tree, Gwen and Dmitri resumed their journey east. Neither spoke as they skirted the base of a mountain, leaving Gwen alone with her thoughts.

  How could she have been so wrong about Prescott? All this time she’d considered him a friend and a decent man. She’d thought the same about Patrick. Maybe Dmitri was right, and she was a terrible judge of character. It would certainly explain the way she’d been feeling about Dmitri the last couple days.

  As they reached the crest of a hill, the sound of Edwin Pierce’s Southern drawl came over the radio they’d taken from the male reaper. “Prescott! Prescott, do you copy?”

  Gwen’s stomach knotted with dread. Her gaze locked with Dmitri’s, a silent question in his eyes: Do you want to answer, or should I? Reluctantly, she nodded, held out her hand, and he passed her the two-way radio.

  Steeling her nerves, she blew out a breath before speaking into the receiver. “Prescott’s not available. Something I can help you with, Edwin?”

  The radio went silent for a full minute. Finally, Pierce replied, and the tone of his voice made her skin crawl. “Gwennie, it’s been a while. It’s so nice to hear you.”

  “Gwennie?” Dmitri mouthed.

  She shot him a cold look. “Don’t start. He knows I hate that name.”

  Dmitri let out a short snort of laughter. “Too bad I didn’t know that earlier. I missed an easy opportunity to annoy you.”

  She smacked his arm, and it felt like she’d hit a brick wall.

  She turned her attention back to the radio, and it took every ounce of her self-control to answer Pierce in a civilized manner. “I’m sorry I can’t say the same.”

  “Aw, you’re gonna hurt my feelings if you keep talking like that.” The cheerful tone in his voice made the blood roar in her ears. “Where you at, Gwennie? We’ve got some catching up to do.”

  Gwen scoffed. “Yeah, that’s so not happening. Why don’t you do yourself a favor and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of? It’ll save you a lot of trouble in the long run.”

  He chuckled in a way that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “You know I can’t do that, sweetheart. Nothing personal, but I got a job to do. If you give yourselves up, I’ll promise to be gentle.”

  Fat chance. She knew his idea of gentle. Her vision flashed red at the memory. “Fuck off, Pierce. You’ve been warned. If you come too close, you’ll get what you deserve.” Without another word, she cocked her arm back and hurled the radio into the woods.

  “Hey! We could have used that to find our way out of here,” Dmitri said, obviously annoyed with her actions.

  “Pierce could have used it to find our location.”

  “Did you check it for a tracker?”

  “No, but he wouldn’t have given it to Prescott without one.” The glare she gave him would have sent lesser men packing. He simply stared right back at her. “You don’t know him the way I do. He probably already has a lock on our coordinates.”

  Dmitri didn’t say anything right away. The lines in his brow softened, and for a moment he appeared genuinely concerned. “What did he do to you?”

  “It’s not what he did. It’s who he is.” In a million years, she’d never understand why Fate gave the bastard a chance at redemption. Why bother, when you can’t wash charcoal white? She hitched her bag up higher onto her shoulder and turned toward the direction they’d been hiking. “Let’s get moving. I don’t want to be around when he gets here.”

  They stopped for the evening at the crest of a hillside overlooking the dense forest below. With patches of clear skies passing overhead, it promised to be colder than the night before. And while temperatures were even lower at the higher elevation, it afforded them a tactical advantage in the event Pierce and his crew located their position.

  “I’ll take the first watch,” Dmitri said after he swallowed the last bite of his apple. He pulled out his Glock and flipped off the safety.

  Gwen shook her head. “You took the first watch last night. It’s my turn.”

  He considered arguing, but why bother? When the woman got an idea in her head, she was more tenacious than Adam’s pit bull. “Suit yourself.” Sitting down with his back against a large hunk of granite, he stretched his long legs out in front of him. Christ, he was tired. The ache of fatigue seeped into his bones and made his eyelids impossibly heavy. Yawning, he unlaced his boots, peeled them off, and set them on the ground by his bag. The night air felt like ice around his swollen feet, but he wanted to give the blisters a chance to heal.

  Gwen retrieved her revolver from her own bag and set out to check the perimeter. To her credit, she barely made any noise as she moved through the darkened forest. She emerged from the woods about fifteen minutes later and gave a nod to signal the okay.

  “I used the last of my twine to set a trip line where the path narrows,” she said as she lowered herself to the ground. With her back to his front, she leaned against him and placed her revolver on her lap. “That should give us plenty of warning if anything comes along.”

  Dmitri grunted in response. Closing his eyes, he focused on the heat of her body against his chest. It struck him then, with a bit of surprise, how far their relationship had come in such a short time. A week ago, he would have rather frozen than share body heat with the likes of her. Now he welcomed her warmth, and accepted her food, and sometimes—just sometimes—he wanted a little bit more.

  It’s Gwen, he kept reminding himself. His enemy. The woman who brought about his capture and confinement. The woman who ended his mortal life.

  The woman whose lips he was dying to taste.

  “How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck out here?” she asked on the heels of a yawn.

  “I have no idea, Gwenya.”

  Shivering, she rubbed her arms for warmth. “I’m tired of being cold. And I’m tired of being tired. And if I have to eat one more freaking apple, I think I’m going to lose my mind.”

  Dmitri chuckled under his breath. They’d eaten apples for lunch. Apples for dinner. And with nothing else edible left in her bag, they’d eat apples for breakfast the next morning. “For once, we’re in agreement. It’s a shame you didn’t pack more Spam.” And it was a shame they couldn’t start a fire. But smoke and flames would give away their position if Pierce and his crew were nearby. He paused. “What’s the first thing you want to do when we get out of here?”

  “I want a boiling-hot shower and a fresh change of clothes,” she answered without hesitation. “Then I want a pizza with ham and pepperoni. And then I want to sleep for two days straight.” With a sigh of longing, she twisted her torso to look back at him. “How about you?”

  “I want …” What did he want? He inhaled deeply, and the smell of her invaded his senses, and he thought, I want her. His mouth watered, and he shook his head to clear the thought. “I want a tall glass of vodka and a plate of blinchiki.” Just thinking about food made his stomach growl.

  The soft, husky sound of her laugh washed over him like a caress. “You’re going to be hard-pressed to find blinchiki in the back woods of Vermont.” She moistened her lips, her tongue darting out in a way that was sensual because she probably wasn’t aware of what it did to him.

  In the dim light, he met her gaze, and his hunger deepened to a craving. If he didn’t find something to distract his mind soon, he’d end up doing something monumentally stupid. “In that case, I’ll make them myself.”

  Her head cocked a little to one side. “You know how to cook?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “I’m not, it’s just that—okay, I am surprised.” She fl
ashed him a sheepish grin. “I’m having a hard time imagining you puttering around the kitchen.”

  “And why is that so difficult?”

  She lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you’re just so … so …” She made a vague gesture with her hands.

  “So what?”

  With so little light, it was impossible to see if she was blushing. He’d give anything to find out for sure.

  Gwen blew out an exasperated sigh. “You seem a little … big for the kitchen.”

  “What, tall men can’t cook?” Yes, he was jerking her chain, but he couldn’t resist the temptation.

  As expected, her eyes thinned. “You damn well know what I mean.”

  He laughed. “Yes, Gwenya, I do. You’re not the first to make that assumption.” Actually, most people drew the same conclusion. Maybe it was due to his size, or his former profession, or the fact he didn’t let people get close enough to know him very well. But a man had to eat, and he didn’t care for takeout, and besides, only he knew his mother’s recipe for blinchiki.

  Because he was tired, and because he couldn’t help himself, he bent his head down and brushed his lips against her hair. “Just remember,” he whispered into her ear, “big men have big appetites, and I am starving.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her voice sounding a little shaky. She leaned forward as she stared out into the darkness. “I should check the perimeter again.”

  “You checked it less than ten minutes ago. The trip wire will alert us to intruders. Stay.” Gently, he gripped her upper arms and nudged her back against his chest. His groin tightened at the feel of her body snug against his own. “With the night so cold, we should conserve our warmth.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re right.” She made a soft sound as she relaxed against him, and it was all he could do not to maul her like an animal. “Get some sleep, Dmitri. I’ll wake you at three.”

  “You’ll wake me at two.”

  A hint of mischief crept into her voice when she craned her neck to look back at him. “Are we repeating last night’s routine?”

  “It sounds vaguely familiar.”

  Her chest shook with silent laughter. Turning back around, she patted his knee. “All right, Red. I’ll wake you at two and you wake me at four.”

  “I’ll wake you at five.”

  “Deal.”

  Chapter 13

  Dmitri let her sleep until six. When she checked her watch, she rolled her eyes at him but didn’t say a word. With a yawn she stretched, and he relished each shift of her body against his.

  Even though they were sick of them, they both ate two apples and tossed the cores in the dense underbrush. Like it or not, they needed the calories, and they were running short of alternatives. By six fifteen they were on their way, moving briskly over the mountainous terrain. The sky was gray with thick cloud cover that rumbled with the promise of bad weather. A chilling wind blew in from the north-west, making the air feel wet and raw.

  The storm finally broke a little after ten, pelting their bodies with icy rain. Within an hour it turned to sleet, then hail, and then finally snow. Temperatures plunged to well below freezing, with a wind chill of God-knows-what.

  It reminded Dmitri of that bitter winter in Stalingrad when the German tanks rolled through the streets. The freezing dampness crept into his bones and made his eardrums ache. Shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, he bowed his head against the wind.

  He cast a glance in Gwen’s direction and felt a twinge of pity. The woman looked absolutely miserable. Her smaller size and lower muscle mass made her more susceptible to the elements. She shook so hard her teeth chattered, and yet she never uttered a word of complaint. That earned her points in his book.

  She walked close beside him, her arms wrapped around her torso in a futile attempt to ward off the cold. The strap of her bag kept slipping down her shoulder, and it was taking longer and longer for her to shove it back in place.

  “Let me carry that,” Dmitri said the next time it fell. To his surprise, she didn’t object when he grabbed the strap and hoisted it over his shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

  When she looked up at him, her eyes appeared glassy and unfocused. “I—I’m okay,” she said, the words coming out soft and slurred.

  Each degree drop in body temperature brought her closer to hypothermia. Her breathing was shallow, her face beet red, and her coordination got worse by the minute. If they didn’t find shelter soon, her entire body would shut down.

  But with no signs of civilization in sight, they had no choice but to keep moving.

  “Let me rest,” Gwen said, sounding exhausted, about twenty minutes later. She dropped to her knees in the snow beside a thick pine. She’d stopped shivering a short while before, a sure sign that her body had given up all hopes of staying warm.

  “No rest.” Dmitri pulled her to standing. “Not until we find shelter.”

  As soon as he let her go, she crumpled back to the ground.

  “Leave me here,” she mumbled, barely coherent. A fine layer of snowflakes covered her hair. Eyes closed, she shook her head. “I can’t walk anymore.”

  “You can and you will.” Abandoning her wasn’t an option. He couldn’t live with himself if she fell prey to wild animals, or if Pierce discovered her helpless and alone. Teeth gritted, he pulled her back up and propped her against the tree. He checked the pulse at her neck and found it weak and slow. Shit. “Come on, Gwenya. Don’t give up now. Just a little farther, and I’ll build you a nice, warm fire.”

  The lie was enough to get her moving. Holding on to her arm, he kept her upright and walking for a short distance before her legs gave out from under her.

  This time no amount of cajoling worked. Even worse, he felt his own body slowing, his thoughts becoming muddled. Fighting the confusion, he scooped her up and carried her in his arms. She felt so small, so fragile. Instinctively, she curled against him, as if seeking out what little bit of body heat he had left.

  He trudged up a hill and down the other side, desperate to find some kind of shelter. A house, a cave—at this point he didn’t fucking care. Just any place warm enough to thaw their freezing bodies.

  But all he saw were more trees, and his spirits sank. The snow came down heavier as the wind lashed their bodies. Refusing to give up, Dmitri ignored the cold, and the ache in his muscles, and the relentless pull of fatigue. The weight of Gwen in his arms and the bags on his back felt heavier with each passing step. He stumbled and fought to maintain his balance because if he fell, he knew he wouldn’t get up. Just a little farther, he repeated in his mind. Just a little farther and you’ll find what you’re looking for.

  For a minute, he forgot what he was looking for. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

  Perhaps a break wasn’t such a bad idea. Not too long, maybe a minute or two to rest his dry, cold, tired eyes.

  As he walked past the trees and into a meadow, he spotted what looked like a cabin in the distance. He blinked. Blinked again. No, the snow wasn’t playing tricks on his eyes. It was an actual wood cabin in the middle of nowhere. From where he stood he couldn’t determine its size, but for all he cared it could be as small as a refrigerator box so long as it got them out of the cold.

  The promise of shelter got his legs moving faster. With the last of his strength he crossed the wide-open field, ignoring the burning pain in his lungs from inhaling too much freezing air. He cursed when he tripped on the first step of the porch and crashed to his knees. By some miracle he managed not to drop Gwen.

  Gently, he placed her down on the wood planks and propped her against the wall by the front window. He peered inside and saw no signs of activity, then tried the door and found it locked. Dumping their bags on the porch, he rooted through Gwen’s duffel until he located her set of lock picks.

  Fingers numb, he fumbled with the tools. After what seemed like an hour the tumblers turned and the door swung open. He smiled, and
his face felt like it was going to crack.

  “Gwen.” He nudged her shoulder. No reaction. Her eyes were closed, and her chest wasn’t moving. Against the brown wood siding, she looked paler than death. In a panic, he checked her wrist. Barely beating, but a pulse was still there, and a wave of relief washed over him.

  With a grunt, he picked her up and carried her inside. The cabin consisted of one large living area with what looked like a bedroom and bathroom to the left. A kitchenette occupied most of the space along the back wall, while a couch and recliner were angled in front of a large brick fireplace. And, thank goodness, there was a stack of wood beside the hearth.

  Carefully, he set Gwen down on the floor in front of the fireplace. The temperature inside the cabin wasn’t much warmer than outside, but at least they were shielded from the wind. He snatched the crocheted afghan off the back of the couch and laid it over her body.

  Eager for warmth, he moved to the fireplace. He opened the damper and piled a small stack of wood in the hearth. Thankfully, someone had left a lighter on the mantel. He lit a few pieces of tinder, lit them again when they burned out.

  After three more tries, the fire caught. Flames licked up from the kindling, sending a wave of heat into the room. Closing his eyes, he held his hands in front of the fire, relishing the warmth against his frostbitten skin. As his fingers thawed he felt a painful burning, but after a few minutes the sensation subsided.

  When he reached back for Gwen to pull her closer, her skin felt colder than marble.

  “Remember that fire I promised, zaika moya?” He brushed a hand over her silky blond hair, and she made a soft mewling sound. It touched off a wave of aching tenderness inside him, so fierce it made his chest tight.

  Refusing to acknowledge the punch of emotions, he stood and walked into the bedroom. Not much to see there, just a bed and a small dresser. He whipped the comforter off the bed, carried it into the main room, and draped it over Gwen. With the combination of heat and rest, she should recover in a matter of hours.