Fire and Ice [Après-Ski 4] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Zara Chase

  “Can he really do that?” Chelsea asked. “I thought it was impassable lower down.”

  “To skiers and snowmobiles,” Leo replied. “But Rick’s our environmentalist. He’s all over these hills summer and winter and knows every inch of them. If he says he can get a sled to that point then take it from me, he’ll get it there.”

  “Right.”

  “Jack will then drop the Dutch off and return to base and pick me up,” Leo continued. “We’ll be in contact with you guys by walkie-talkie and can be anywhere we’re needed within a few minutes.”

  “The weather looks set fine this morning but it’s due to close in later today,” Jack added. “But that shouldn’t affect us.”

  “Any questions?” Leo asked.

  They all shook their heads.

  “Okay, let’s do this.” Leo smiled at Chelsea. “You had quite a few new experiences last night. You sure you’re still up for this?”

  She grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Jack shared a resigned glance with Leo as he and Chelsea returned to his rooms.

  “Plenty of layers,” Jack warned her as she stripped off her jeans and pulled out her ski-wear. “You’ll be hanging around up there for a while and it’ll freeze your bits off if you’re not properly prepared.” He gently rubbed his knuckles down her cheek. “Can’t have that happening. It just so happens that I’m very fond of your bits.”

  “When you see me in my thermal long johns, you might have a change of heart.”

  Jack kissed the top of her head. “Ain’t gonna happen.”

  Even so, he chuckled to see her covered head to foot in tight fitting Thinsulate that probably wasn’t supposed to be sexy but definitely got his motor running.

  “You absolutely sure about this, babe?” he asked, suddenly afraid about all the things that could go wrong. What if Rick didn’t make it with the sled for some reason? What if the Dutchmen managed to avoid the trap? What if Chelsea fell while skiing down that deathtrap of a run? What if…what if…“Better to let the police handle it, fuck how Pardon feels about that, than risk anything happening to you.”

  Chelsea batted her lashes at him. “Why, Mr. Gower, I do believe you care.”

  “Damned straight I care.” He grasped her shoulders, deadly serious as he pinned her with an intense look. “Don’t let ambition overcome common sense, Chelsea. I know you want to prove something to Rob, to yourself. I know you want to secure your grandmother’s future, but fuck it, these Dutchmen aren’t playing games.”

  She touched his face. “Neither am I.”

  “There’s only so much I can do to protect you from the air and if anything were to—”

  “Shush!” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “We’ll pull this off, right from under Rob’s nose, then tonight we can celebrate in style.”

  Jack shook her head, knowing there was nothing he could do, short of physically restraining her, to prevent her from seeing this thing through. Physically restraining her held a definite appeal, but not under these circumstances. He recognized this was something she needed to do but it didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

  “Stubborn woman,” he muttered, disentangling her arms so she could finish getting dressed. There were a ton of other things he wanted to say, warnings he wanted to issue, but he held his tongue. Ward and Rick would be with her, he and Leo would have her back. They’d gone over the plan a dozen times and had home field advantage. He prayed to God that would be enough.

  “Just remember, that route is perilous. If they do get past you for any reason, don’t try and follow them. I need you to promise me you won’t do anything that foolish.” He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted it upwards so she was forced to meet him gaze. “It ain’t worth dying for a few pieces of shiny rock.”

  “I have plenty to live for nowadays,” she replied, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

  It was only later, when they were all in the chopper and Jack was dropping it down towards the Haston Ridge that he realized she hadn’t actually given her word.

  * * * *

  Chelsea pulled her goggles down and snapped into her skis. She had been prepared for the perishing cold but it still took her breath away, hurting her lungs as she ingested the frigid air. She raised a hand to wave to Jack as he smoothly lifted the helicopter back into the air, glad not to be blasted by the rotor or deafened by the noise for more than a few seconds.

  Chelsea felt alone and vulnerable as she watched the chopper disappear from view, even though Ward was standing right next to her, stepping into his own skis. She had fallen head over heels in love with Jack, which was laughable, given his grim determination never to get emotionally involved ever again. She wondered for a fleeting moment if she would ever see his handsome, smiling face again and felt a moment’s fear, not on her own behalf but on his. She had dragged him—all of them—into this mess and wondered if Jack was right when he accused her of being obsessed with proving herself and getting one over on Rob.

  Well, whatever her motivation, it was too late now for second thoughts. She made final adjustments to her equipment, pulled her gator up over her chin, and set her jaw in a firm line of determination beneath it.

  “You ready?” Ward asked. “It’s pretty exposed up here and the wind don’t take prisoners.”

  His voice reminded Chelsea of the risk he was taking for her sake, reinforcing her will. She could do this. She absolutely could.

  Chelsea followed Ward down the top part of the run, her resolve firmly back in place. She would make history in the annals of paydays for insurance investigators with this bust in spite of Rob’s giving her all the dud leads to follow up.

  She discovered what Rick had meant about a narrow glacial descent when they reached the top of Deadman’s Gulch and paused to look down.

  A long way down.

  Ward’s hand signal had her holding back while he negotiated it first. She knew that if she was too close to him and he took a tumble, she’d fall right over him. Shit, no one told her there were moguls right in the middle of the narrow bit. Still, Ward got through them with stylish aplomb—the show-off!—so she could, too. She recalled all she’d learned about glacier skiing in Austria some years back—experience that would hopefully stand her in good stead. No edging, she reminded herself. She would need to use her body weight to control her speed and direction. Well, that and her determination to come through this intact so she could surprise Jack by offering to accompany him into the dungeon that night. They’d made out on the gallery but that didn’t count.

  Hold that thought.

  Ward reached the stopping point—a very long and steep way below her. She saw Rick there with him and they both waved to her, signaling it was her turn to make the run.

  “Now or never,” she muttered, taking a deep breath and pushing off with her sticks.

  The moguls proved easy to avoid. Ward must have deliberately taken them on. Chelsea was congratulating herself upon having more sense when her left ski abruptly went from under her. She had seconds to adjust, or go head over tit the rest of the way down the icy slope.

  Instinct took over and a swift shift of her hips transferred her weight to her other foot, giving her a chance to regain the errant ski. With her heart hammering, and travelling too fast with little or no control, she made it down to Ward and Rick. The space opened up and there was a layer of powder deep enough for her skis to grip. She brought herself to a panting, not every elegant, stop.

  “Well recovered,” Ward said, grinning at her.

  “Hey, Ruben,” Chelsea said, noticing that one of the three dogs harnessed to the sled was Rick’s favorite, Ruben, who lived at Hadleigh’s with him and Sabine.

  “Shouldn’t be long,” Rick said, slapping his torso with his gloved hands to keep himself warm.

  Chelsea was still buoyed up with adrenaline following her hairy descent but knew it wouldn’t be long before the biting cold got to her as well. Only the dogs seemed impervious to th
e conditions.

  “Looks like Jack was right about the weather,” Rick remarked, glancing at dark clouds on the horizon.

  “Come on, Chelsea,” Ward said. “Let’s scope out our hiding places.” He winked at her. “Gotta do something to keep warm.”

  It didn’t take them long. The rocky outcrop closed in on the pass on both sides and there were very few places where they could remain unseen until the last minute. Chelsea stayed huddled in the place she’d chosen. It afforded her a little respite from the biting wind while Ward went back to help Rick unharness the dogs and turn the sled over. They’d only just managed it when Chelsea heard the steady thrum of the chopper gradually getting closer. She looked up and saw the red spec off in the distance. Jack wouldn’t fly directly overhead for fear of the Dutchmen catching sight of them.

  “Not long now,” Ward said, coming to join her.

  He had no sooner spoken than their walkie-talkies crackled into life.

  “Just dropped them off,” Jack’s disembodied voice said. “Everything okay on your end?”

  “We’re in position,” Ward replied curtly.

  “Right. I’m going back for Leo. Good luck.”

  Ward grinned at Chelsea and skied across to the opposite side of the narrow gulch. Rick had already lain down beside the overturned sled and gave a good impression of being unconscious. If he stayed exposed for too long in such conditions, he would be. Chelsea felt a fresh bout of appreciation for what these guys—virtual strangers—were doing for her and hoped the Dutchmen didn’t hang about. She watched as Ruben nudged Rick’s hand, obviously confused. The other two dogs lay down in the snow, completely disinterested.

  Chelsea peeped around the edge of the frosty rock, surprised to hear the Dutchmen’s voices carrying down to her before she actually saw them reach the top of the gulch and stop to discuss the best way to negotiate it. She was relieved to see that unlike her and Ward, they chose to come down in tandem. Rick had assured her they wouldn’t be able to see him and the sled until they were almost upon him even though, looking up, she could see the Dutchmen quite clearly.

  Chelsea knew Bushnell and Closson would be coming down as fast as she had done. There was no way they could slow themselves and would have to put faith in their abilities to remain in control. Her heart rate accelerated as she watched them getting closer, her breathing a cloud of fog in front of her face because she’d removed her gator to avoid her goggles steaming up. Her hands, which moments ago had been frozen inside her gloves, were now slick with perspiration. She could see both men struggling to remain on their feet. Was it too much to hope that they’d tumble, saving them all from the trouble of trying to stop them? Probably. She couldn’t get that lucky.

  “Come on!” she muttered.

  Closson was in the lead. She sensed the moment when he saw Rick, lost concentration, and tumbled headfirst straight into the rocky outcrop. He lay where he fell and didn’t move. Chelsea had no sympathy and looked up to see what Bushnell, the guy she’d pegged as the better skier, would do.

  “Shit!”

  Closson’s tumble had seen him narrowly miss Rick but had pushed the end of the sled out of the way. Not sufficiently for anyone to be able to ski through the gap, surely? Such thoughts ran through Chelsea’s head in the fraction of a second it took Bushnell to reach the scene of the accident. Any normal person would have stopped to check on his buddy.

  Not Bushnell.

  He flew through the gap created by Closson’s body on one ski and was home free. Chelsea was sure she heard him laugh aloud as he kept right on going.

  “He’s getting away!” Chelsea yelled, tears of frustration freezing on her cheeks.

  “I’ll call Jack, get him to stop him at the bottom. It’s suicide to go after him in these conditions,” Ward replied, glancing up at the sky.

  “I can go with the sled if you help me right it and re-harness the dogs.”

  “The hell with letting him go!”

  Chelsea pushed off with her sticks, aware of Ward and Rick yelling at her to stop. She looked back and saw Ward following her. Guilt consumed her. She didn’t mind risking her own neck but she wasn’t asking him to do the same.

  “Crazy woman!” Ward yelled, but he was grinning, probably enjoying the powdered snow as much as she would have done, had the circumstances been different.

  It was easy to follow Bushnell’s ski tracks and keep sight of his red jacket slightly ahead of them. He glanced back, saw them gaining on him, and diverted into the trees.

  “He has to come out at the bottom, fifty meters to your right,” Ward shouted. “I’ll go that way and cut him off. You follow him through the trees in case he tries to go another way.”

  Chelsea wanted to argue. He was taking the bigger risk but he’d already gone so Chelsea resolutely ploughed through the trees in Bushnell’s ski-tracks. It was almost dark beneath the closely-packed trees, eerily quiet, and snow fell from branches straight onto her head whenever her movements dislodged it. She had trouble seeing Bushnell’s tracks and remaining on her feet.

  “Where the hell has he gone?” she wondered aloud when the tracks in the deep snow abruptly ran out.

  “Looking for someone?”

  Chelsea had no time to scream before a strong arm snaked out and knocked her to the floor.

  * * * *

  “Jack, we have a problem.”

  Jack’s heart lurched. “Tell me,” he snapped.

  “Bushnell got past us. Ward and Chelsea have gone after him.”

  “Shit! I told her not to…she promised…” But, of course, she hadn’t actually promised. “Okay,” Jack said, knowing the situation called for professionalism rather than recriminations. Chelsea was in danger and Jack would move heaven and earth to get her out of it. Everything else could wait. He shared a glance with Leo and could see he was similarly resolved. “No point in keeping a low profile. I’ll fly over the area, see what I can see.”

  “Roger that,” Rick said. “I’m on my way down with the sled, just in case I can do anything.”

  “What the fuck,” Leo said, slapping Jack’s shoulder. “Let’s go get the bastard!”

  Jack had barely lifted off, not liking the way the weather was closing in, when the walkie-talkie crackled to life again.

  “Mr. Gower,” said a voice in accented English. “I thought we had a deal.”

  “What do you want?” Jack snarled, his heart twisting with fear. If he had a walkie-talkie tuned to their frequency he must have taken it from Chelsea.

  “It’s more a case of what I can do for you,” Bushnell replied. “I have your lady friend with me.”

  Deep anger seared Jack’s skin, stirring dangerous feelings. “Harm a hair on her head and you’re a dead man, Bushnell.”

  “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, nor could she, so you only have yourselves to blame.”

  “Psychopaths always blame others for their own perverted actions.”

  “I knew that woman was trouble. Far too curious for her own good. I should have made the connection earlier. No matter, it’s better this way.”

  “Your buddy’s dead,” Ward’s voice said over the radio. “Hit his head pretty hard on that rock, although I don’t suppose you care about that, seeing as how you didn’t even stop to check on him.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Bushnell said, making it sound as though he was talking about the result of a ball game that his team hadn’t won.

  “What do you want, Bushnell?” Jack asked.

  “No interference until I get where I’m going. Your lady friend is coming with me. One false move from you and she’s history.”

  Jack laughed, even though it was the last thing he felt like doing. “You think she’ll calmly ski down that run with you? Take it from me, she doesn’t have an obedient bone in her body.”

  “She can ski or I’ll drag her. Her choice. It doesn’t matter to me either way.”

  There was an edge to Bushnell’s voice, presumably because his clever p
lan wasn’t working and he was on the verge of disappointing Smith, to say nothing of kissing good-bye to the comfortable financial future he’d envisaged for himself. All that was bad news for Chelsea.

  “I want to talk to her.”

  “Talk to the nice pilot, Ms. Hoxton.”

  “Jack…”

  “Chelsea, are you okay? Has the creep hurt you?”

  “No, I’m good. I’ll ski down with him without making trouble and I’ll see you and Ruben later.”

  Ruben? Jack shared a bewildered look with Leo, who responded with a slow smile of understanding.

  “Right. Call me when you get to the bottom and I’ll come pick you up.”

  “How sweet,” Bushnell said sarcastically.

  Jack’s cell phone rang.

  “Jack, it’s Rick. Chelsea just implied we could cut them off with the sled.”

  “I want to be in on it,” Jack said, grinding his teeth.

  “That’s what I figured.”

  Rick reeled off coordinates where he could land. A few minutes later Jack left Leo with the chopper and joined Rick on the sled.

  “Hold on, buddy.” Rick looked grimly determined. “Take it away, Ruben,” he said.

  The sled lurched forward, cutting diagonally across the wide slope. They hadn’t risked using the radio to alert Ward but hopefully he’d heard enough to guess what their intentions were.

  “They have to come this way,” Rick said tersely, stopping the sled and pointing upwards.

  “Right.”

  Rick unharnessed the dogs and the two younger ones immediately hunkered down in the snow. Ruben stuck beside Rick, looking up at him expectantly.

  “Now we wait,” Rick said, gritting his teeth.

  Jack was starting to think they’d gotten it wrong when nothing happened. It seemed like they’d been waiting forever, feeling impotent and quietly seething, but his anxiety had probably made time stand still. Eventually, when Jack’s patience was all but used up, a lone figure skied into view above them.