Facing her, Astrid tapped the top of the computer. “You never have to worry about bad breath with an Internet boyfriend.”
“Not funny.”
“But true.” She leaned closer to clasp Misty’s hands. “You can do better than this.”
“Here? With all of a half dozen guys that are even remotely appropriate for me to pick from? No thanks.”
“Lindsay’s brother Jayden would treat you like a queen. He’s obviously adored you since he got here two years ago.”
“Be real. He adores my boobs.” She clapped her hands over her D-cups, which had filled out by junior high. “He’s never even looked me in the eyes once. Not to mention, he cheated on his last two girlfriends.” An unforgivable sin in her eyes. “He’s just running out of women to screw over, since he’s plowing through the females in this town so fast.”
“Okay, you could have a point.” Astrid tugged a bib apron from her backpack and slung it over her neck for her breakfast shift at the shop. The oatmeal-colored fabric hid the carrot stains and transformed her into a professional barista.
Misty helped her wrap the tie around twice until she could knot it in the front. “And seriously, what a dumb ass. This is such a small community, it’s not like anything’s a secret. Did he actually expect to get away with it? Twice?” She gave the knot a final tug, her hand gravitating back up to her throat. “I can’t hide here forever. I want a life like other people have. Like you have.”
Astrid’s face lit with the sympathy that was all too common around here since Misty’s illness, looks she could only erase if she left here. Her parents were dead now, gone in a car accident. Her brother was married with a family of his own. Sunny had her business.
There was nothing left to keep her here. Why couldn’t they support her need to start her own life? She would honor their decision to keep this place quietly under the radar, but it was their choice to cut off contact with everyone else. Her going didn’t have to be the end of their relationship.
But she was willing to accept those consequences if that’s what it cost to leave. To have access to medical technology that would never reach this far. She didn’t blame her parents for the meningitis caught and treated almost too late.
But she wouldn’t let anyone keep her from the surgery that could restore the hearing she’d lost.
Tears stung her eyes and she massaged her throat to check for vibrations and make sure no sob sounds slid free. How much longer would she be able to talk understandably if she didn’t get a cochlear implant? How strange did her voice sound already after almost four years without hearing herself?
She studied Astrid’s mouth but she wasn’t speaking, her lips didn’t move. Even though Astrid was good about keeping her face where Misty could always see it during conversations, so much was still lost in translation. Lip-reading only worked for about 50 percent of the words, even though she was meticulous about watching not only the lips, but also the tongue, teeth, cheeks, and neck, as well as facial expressions and gestures. It had been so damn exhausting at first on top of the grief.
So many sounds she’d taken for granted before and now missed with an ache so deep, she felt a part of her life had been amputated. Maybe if she didn’t know what she was missing… Maybe…
Unable to hold back the flood of emotion, she shot to her feet. “See you at lunchtime. I gotta go.”
Misty snagged her parka off the back of her chair and raced for the entrance by instinct, her sight blurred, further locking her away in a world with limited senses. She slammed through the front doors and burst outside, leaving behind the musty, sweaty scent of the gym. The crisp outdoors enveloped her, the smell of the pure mountain air even more intoxicating since she’d lost her hearing. Still, it wasn’t enough to replace what had been taken from her.
Blinking fast and swiping an arm across her cheeks, she cleared her eyes until Main Street—the only street, really—took shape again. Stores and homes were built in tiered levels, notched into a ridge, conforming to the natural dips and rises of the mountainside. Her parents had owned the whitewashed building across and at the end of the road and she still lived there with her brother and family since their parents had died two years ago.
Twenty-two and still living at home, unlike Sunny who had a loft apartment in the log cabin that housed her business.
She stepped out onto the road and felt the vibration under her feet. She looked up sharply just as a rusted Reva screeched to a halt an inch away from hitting her. She held up a hand in apology to the electric car’s driver.
Come summertime, snow would melt away to open bike trails for even more traffic. Frozen lakes would thaw and fast fill with kayaks. But she wouldn’t hear the gurgle of the water or the laughter from the boats.
It was a perpetual vacation, and some thought she was crazy to leave. She already planned to search out a more open community after her surgery. Surely she could find one, with over two hundred thousand families living off-the-grid in the United States these days.
Surely Brett would join her.
Hands stuffed in her parka pockets, she tromped through the sludge on the sidewalks. Why did it have to be such a big deal because she wanted to leave, to have surgery, to have a future with Brett? He could come here, but that still wouldn’t help her, not in the way she needed. It was so unfair that life made her choose between being with her family and regaining her hearing.
She thought of the chubby-cheeked nephew she would never see grow up. Adult choices sucked. Not that she really had much of a choice. She had to leave this place to receive a cochlear implant, and the longer she waited, the tougher those good-byes would become—and the lower her chances of success would be with the procedure.
The local doctor assured her she was a good candidate. She’d been born with her hearing, only losing it nearly four years ago during the bout of meningitis. While they had a hospital here, the facility wasn’t specialized enough for the procedure.
She had no choice but to leave, and leave soon. Even though Sunny was the best guide, there were others who could escort her down. Still, Misty couldn’t bring herself to leave until Sunny came back. She had to say good-bye to her sister.
And then she would follow Madison and Ted’s path out of this place forever.
***
Brett downloaded the data received during the latest chat with Misty. Sometimes things were just too easy. He had Misty right where he wanted her, and his hired help from the local sheriff’s office was taking care of the messier details on the mountain. He was perfectly positioned halfway between civilization and no-man’s-land.
Clicking through the commands to file and save, Brett finished with a final tap, then spun in the leather chair to face the four-paned window. From his third-floor tiny office in the Alaska Peninsula Power Plant, he could overlook Bristol Bay in the distance, imagining it feeding into the Bering Sea. Fishing boats dotted the thawing waters along the peninsula that led to the Aleutian Islands.
And here he sat, in the perfect position to use the untapped potential of one of those islands. Far enough away from the scrutiny of major cities like Anchorage or Fairbanks, but not completely isolated on one of those godforsaken islands.
How naïve for Misty and her friends to think they could live off-the-grid as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. The world was too global, even in the remotest corners of Alaska. Those who grabbed control first, those who created opportunity out of even a barren wasteland, the kingdom builders like himself… They would survive in the end.
Above all, Brett was a survivor.
Communicating with Misty had offered the perfect means to install keylogger software into her computer, which in turn spiderwebbed into the community’s mainframe. The inside contact would be sure they couldn’t run the kind of advanced scan needed to detect the program.
Every keystroke made on their computers was logged and sent in daily emails to Brett. No one slipped anything past the keylogger. Printouts were made and chec
ked for cooperation, for dissent. There was no room for mistakes.
The insular community had been all too easy to infiltrate, manipulate. What would young Misty think if she knew her own little society was corruptible? He’d only needed to figure out which ones to tempt with the promise of feeding an ecoterrorist agenda. Those corruptible few were the truly bloodthirsty ones, as the world would know four days from now.
How easy it was to fool people through a computer. With an Internet connection and some help from his hired goon in the sheriff’s office, Brett could pretend to be anyone on this end.
Even Ted and Madison.
Chapter 5
Sunny jammed her foot into the toehold Wade had carved out of the ice wall. Gut-gnawing terror fueled her determination. Her muscles strained and trembled as she clung to a tiny crinkle overhead, eyes locked on Chewie leaning over the edge, barking furiously. Panicked paws shifted and twitched, sending small snow showers down on her head. She’d stuffed her bulky overgloves into the bib of her snowsuit. Cold penetrated the thin undergloves, which were waterproof but not nearly as warm. A minor inconvenience, when she thought about her two dead friends below.
Her hand slipped.
Wade palmed her back and wedged his shoulder under her butt. How he managed that while keeping his own balance climbing, she couldn’t imagine and didn’t have time to ask. Ted and Madison lay lifeless twenty feet below, and since there was no sign of a third body, she had to wonder. Had the deputy gone for help and been killed? Was he out there now? Or oh God, could the deputy have killed them? And if not him, then someone else who might still be nearby?
She shivered and secured her grip with fingers so frozen they were stiff and numb. She refused to slow Wade down. She’d already done enough damage, bringing him out here with her during her reckless dash to escape. But if she hadn’t, then Ted and Madison’s bodies may never have been found. The people at home might never have known they were dead, since there wouldn’t have been anyone to report them missing. The only hint of their disappearance would have been the lack of emails, which would be easy enough to write off as making a clean break. God, it was too easy for a person to fall off the face of the planet.
But then wasn’t that what her family had made a point of doing, severing all ties with civilization?
So close. She was so close. Only a few more inches.
Slapping an arm over the edge, she hauled herself upward, groaning at the effort, afraid she wouldn’t be able to pull her own weight. Her arms trembled, and her toes cramped.
Chewie stretched over, his jaws open. His fangs flashed in the early-morning sun. Snap. He sunk his teeth into her parka, tugging, yanking with just the extra help… she needed until…
Sunny hitched a knee over the edge. Growling with exertion almost as loudly as her dog, she levered herself over and rolled away flat on her back. Exhausted. But she couldn’t afford to rest. She scrambled to the edge on shaky legs and reached for Wade in case he needed help.
Wade vaulted over the edge, landing beside her, crouching on one knee. She should have known a superhero wouldn’t need her help. Hysteria welled in her oxygen-deprived brain.
She flung herself around him, clinging to life and vitality, grateful to be alive. So damn glad Wade was alive as well, that he hadn’t been harmed chasing her into whatever the hell had happened below. All the ache and want she’d felt for him during that insanely impulsive kiss roared to life again, catching her unaware when her defenses were down. Her already rattled world had been shattered in less than a few short hours. Now all she could think about was broad shoulders and how much she wanted to wrap herself around all that strength until things righted again. How totally anti-her. She wasn’t the clinging-vine sort. Was this how Stockholm syndrome worked? Yet she couldn’t deny her nerves tingling to life like thawing after a deep freeze.
A bit mortifying though, as Wade was certainly only pausing to give her enough time to catch her breath before they moved on.
Chewie nudged her shoulder just as Wade cupped the back of her neck, staring into her eyes. Checking her pupils again?
He squeezed once reassuringly before tugging her hood up. “We can’t afford to rest.” Unspoken was the horrible threat that there could be a killer lurking nearby. “Do you need me to carry you?”
“No, no…” She pushed herself onto her hands and knees, then rose. “I can do it.”
“Good. Make sure you keep up.” He pulled the fat gloves from her overall bib, the backs of his fingers brushing quickly along the top of her breasts. “My team will be using my locator beacon to search for us,” he said, the last part loudly. As if announcing it to anyone who might be listening? “And I want to position us in the best possible place for extraction. Are you sure you don’t want me to carry you on my back? The faster we move, the sooner we’re out of here.” He held up the gloves.
She stuffed her hands inside, fighting for enough oxygen to level her out for travel. “Lead. I’ll keep up.”
With a curt nod, he started away from the hole in the earth. Away from Madison and Ted’s icy crypt. Her foot sunk into a deeper drift and she struggled to stay upright, not to lag, her eyes locked firmly on Wade’s broad back. Stride by stride, he guided her down the rugged slope. Chewie loped behind her as if protecting her back.
A scant scattering of stunted conifers dotted the landscape the farther they descended. Not dense, towering pines like in other parts of Alaska. The wind was too fierce here for that, snapping off tops of taller trees. Tearing at her every step until she feared the roar could blot out warning sounds. At least the barren landscape made it easier to scan for threats, human or otherwise, as they neared brown bear territory and the end of hibernation.
Watching Wade’s measured, steadied steps, she didn’t doubt that he could have carried her down the mountain pass just as fast. She was holding him back, but he wouldn’t leave without her. He’d made that clear.
Time to commit to getting off the mountain, even if it meant stepping into the outside world. She would face whatever else came her way—
A buzz vibrated the air by her ear. Then another. Chewie’s growl overrode the wind just as Wade turned back toward her.
“Gunfire!” He yanked her arm and tucked her behind him as he zigzagged to the left.
Bullets spewed against a lone tree ahead, splintering frozen bark left, then right. Her hand in Wade’s, she trailed him, racing, scanning, finding…
A man stood on top of a boulder a football field away, rifle on his shoulder. She hesitated, stunned. She’d suspected, but still, to see the sheriff’s deputy, Rand Smith, peering down the scope of a rifle rattled her.
He fired. She shrieked once and ducked, bracing for the impact of the bullet.
Wade yanked her down behind a short, fat tree. Panic kicked into overdrive. No matter how well versed she was in mountain survival, she was really out of her element now. Her body had been pushed to the edge of endurance, and fear sent her teeth chattering in a way that had nothing to do with cold.
Bullets zinged off the trunk, two in a row, pop, pop. Snow from the branches spewed in chunks. She grabbed Wade’s parka and pressed closer. A sense of their life and death stakes tangled up with a bizarre mess of want and fear until she desperately needed to hang on to the one familiar person in a world flipped upside down. The deputy dropped to his stomach and took aim again.
“Chewie?” she whispered, looking around frantically, then calling louder, “Chewie?”
Zing. Another bullet ricocheted off a pile of rocks at the base of the mountain.
Wade shoved her to the ground and dropped on top of her with an “Ooof.” Anything that hit her would have to go through him. Except he didn’t flinch, so she hoped, prayed, he hadn’t been hit. The bullets kept popping, echoing around the narrow crevasse in the mountain. Snow and ice chunks battered down around them, clinking off Wade’s backpack.
His hand slid from her and to his waist. He pulled out a gun, an ominous black pistol
. He held it up, but for some reason, he didn’t shoot. Not that she intended to question anything he did right now, because he was the one keeping them alive and she was the one who’d screwed up again and again.
Faster and faster the mountain rumbled, until she realized.
Deputy Smith wasn’t trying to shoot them. He was trying to start an avalanche and collapse the walls on top of them.
***
Wade was running out of options fast.
The bastard lying belly down on a stretch of ice kept shooting at them, and while Wade had a clear shot, more gunfire could risk setting off an avalanche, since he had the foothills and overhang above him. A few more yards and they would have been in clear open space—clean pickings for the gunman. But he also could have gotten off a shot of his own. Wade gripped the barrel of his 9 mm. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it, but if the man came closer, he wouldn’t have any choice. He just prayed the snowy overhang would hold until the chopper arrived.
“Come on, come on, come on,” he mumbled softly.
He kept his body between Sunny and the bullets. Snow and chunks of ice thudded and stabbed downward, faster, thicker. He hunched around her, tighter. Adrenaline seared his veins until he could almost feel his near-frozen toes thawing.
“Wade”—Sunny gripped his jacket—“any ideas? What do you need me to do? We can’t just stay here like sitting ducks.”
“I agree.” Another shot echoed. An icicle stabbed into the earth an inch away from his head. Shit. He rolled to his side, tucking Sunny behind him. A second fell. Fire flamed through his shoulder. He fought the urge to shout, to roll to his side and clutch the wound. “Now would be a good time to say if you know of any secret caves.”
“Sorry.” Her breath caressed his neck. “It’s flatland ahead and nothing that I know of back the way we came.”
He needed to decide fast. Wait until the other guy ran out of bullets. Or shoot back. The flat terrain ahead of them that appeared so starkly majestic at other times looked damn barren, open, and dangerous right now, empty except for the crouching gunman.
Cover Me Page 6
