Whiteout

by Adriana Anders

  “Probably won’t be hitting the ice anytime soon.” Pam looked at a loss for the first time since she’d arrived. “Goes for all of us, I guess.”

  “Ford won’t like that.”

  “No. He won’t.” Pam’s eyes were so kind it made her feel itchy. Like maybe she had bad news she didn’t want to share. “You okay, Angel?”

  Her knee hurt like hell, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t what Pam was asking. And this outburst, well, she could put it down to fear and frustration, anger, too, at all the crap that had happened. But when it came down to it, she didn’t know. Anything.

  She barely recognized herself. Everything felt tight and off, like her insides had been pulled out, mixed up, and put back in wrong.

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “So. Eric and his band of merry soldiers are taking care of things, but then…what?”

  “Well, you get PT for that knee.”

  “No. I mean. With us? Me? You guys? Ford?” Angel whispered his name. After a long, significant look, Angel opened her mouth and shut it again.

  “You want to talk about it?” Pam asked.

  “What?” Maybe if she played dumb, Pam would let it go.

  “What happened out there?” her friend insisted, because that’s what good friends did. They didn’t accept your bullshit. “With you and Coop.”

  “I don’t…” Angel blinked past one memory after another—the tent that very first night. His smile, with that almost-dimple that she’d wanted to lick. Had she licked it? She didn’t think so. Why was that so upsetting? “I don’t know.” Because maybe she wouldn’t get to lick it now. Ever.

  “You okay, hon?”

  Angel could only nod, exhausted. “Yeah.” She rubbed a hand over the soft hospital sheet. Well, soft if she compared it to what she’d gotten used to sleeping on. Hard ice, with nothing but a couple layers of padding, slippery sleeping bags. Warm, solid man.

  Not just any man.

  Ford.

  He was it, the missing piece she couldn’t put her finger on, the reason she couldn’t get comfortable in this bed or maybe any bed. Ever again.

  Because he wasn’t in it. And she wanted him there.

  But what did he want?

  * * *

  Clínica Sangre de Cristo—2 days later

  With Von trailing her like a creepy, ghostly guard dog, Angel finally broke down and went to see Ford.

  She made her way on crutches down the long corridor, to where Ans stood at Ford’s door. She gave him a weak smile and knocked, waited for Ford’s rough voice to invite her in, then entered. It hurt to watch him struggle to sit up, but then again, it would hurt a lot more if he were dead.

  She’d get over it.

  “Angel.”

  “Hey.”

  He looked her up and down, frowning. “Shouldn’t you be in…”

  She closed the door and leaned against it, then lifted a crutch. “Knee’s good enough to walk with these, so I’m headed back to the U.S. today.” Invite me farther in. “What’s your status?” Ask me to stay. To see where this leads.

  “Stuck here for a while. Then PT. Flying out soon. Guess I’ll winter at the university. Then head south next summer.”

  He meant antarctic summer, clearly. So he’d be going back.

  “Wow, that sounds…” Dangerous, stupid, absolutely incomprehensible.

  She needed air, but the big shaky breath she sucked in felt more like volcanic ash than oxygen. She held it in, wound up tight, knowing that if she let the tiniest bit of pain seep out, it would turn into an unstoppable deluge. A broken dam. She forced a smile to her wooden lips. “Sounds good.”

  Ford, of course, didn’t bother smiling. “What’s your plan?”

  “I’ll figure it out.” She shrugged, going for casual but feeling about as smooth as a broken puppet. “A friend asked me to help her start this little farm-to-table place, not too far from Philly. It’s…” Everything I thought I wanted. But it’s not you.

  “Great.” Another humorless look.

  “Yeah.” She couldn’t face him for fear she’d break down and beg him to—to what? That was the thing, she didn’t even know what she wanted from him. There was no common ground for them. Or rather there was, but they’d left it on the ice. The way they’d been, the way they’d lived, what she’d thought of as a relationship, had been nothing but survival. She gulped and forced another stiff, bright smile. “Anyway. Just thought I’d check in. They’re discharging me, so I wanted to say—” Goodbye. Or hold me. Or I love you. “Okay.” She indicated the crutches with a grimace. “I’d hug you but…” She scrabbled at the door, grasped the knob, twisted, and pushed. “Take care, Ford.”

  She’d just stepped outside when he said—or rather rasped out—her name. “Angel.”

  She turned, unable to control the swell of hope that blossomed in her chest. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  She blinked. “For what?” For the sex part? For saving his life? The door closed again with a snick and, just like that, she was back to the Burke-Ruhe kitchen, honing a steel knife blade while he gave her his awkward thanks.

  “Ah. For everything.”

  Could you specify, please? Or maybe not. Maybe she didn’t want him thanking her for sex. Which she couldn’t even call sex, since it had been so much more than that—the most intimate, most genuine, moments of her life. But maybe to him it hadn’t meant a thing. Just a hot body on cold ice.

  “Ah. Okay. Well.” She tried another smile, so fake it had to look painted on. “You’re welcome.”

  She’d just reached for the door again when he pierced the little armor she’d managed to wrap around herself.

  “We couldn’t be any—we can’t be anything.”

  Don’t do this to me. Don’t break my heart.

  She didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. “Why not?”

  “Got a call from the NSF today. They want me to head up rebuilding and research at the station. I’ll have access to—I’m going back.” He tightened his lips. Was that supposed to be a happy expression? “And you’ll be running the kitchen of your dreams. Which is what you deserve. Entirely.”

  Was it? Even if it wasn’t what she wanted anymore? “What if—”

  “The ice is where I belong.” He nodded once, his expression stubborn, tight. Who was he working so hard to convince? Her or himself? “Heading back as soon as the weather clears.”

  “Sure. Clean, simple environment where you’re in control, right?” This obsession with control drove her crazy. Especially when she’d seen him the other way—out of control. Wild. Real. The man behind the ice.

  Somewhere outside, tires screeched.

  “Exactly.” The forbidding voice, the austere expression, and even in a damned hospital bed, that rigid spine. The eyes. Those inhumanly cold eyes. The Ice Man was back. She wanted to scream, to rail, to beg him to see her. Her. Them.

  “I call bullshit.” When had the first tear fallen? Her cheeks were soaking now, her mouth full of salt, but there was no relief from breaking the seal and letting them flow. “I call fear. You’re scared of life, Ford. Of this.” She flapped her hand between them.

  “Not scared. Just not interested.”

  A yell sounded from not too far off.

  Not interested. Those words hurt as deeply as a slap across the face. Deeper. As if he’d taken one of her blades and slid it straight into her already-bruised heart. But they also served to straighten her back and stop the ridiculous tears. She wouldn’t cry over him. Wouldn’t mourn the loss of another unfeeling asshole. No way.

  “Okay then.” One last cleansing breath. “Take care.”

  She’d just put her hand on the door when the window smashed.

  Chapter 52

  An explosion, followed by absolute silence.

  Coop blinked, the mo
vement slow, pushed himself out of bed, swayed, and dropped to his ass again.

  The door swung open.

  Von’s lips moved as he said something, gesticulating. Now! Was that it? Move now!

  This time, Ford stayed standing, though his skull almost cracked from the pressure.

  Ans rushed in, weapon drawn, ran to the window, pulled back the tattered blinds, and dove out into the night.

  Where was Angel? Had she been hurt?

  Was Von talking to him? Coop couldn’t hear a fucking thing.

  “Where is she?” he yelled. His voice didn’t reach his own ears.

  His heart beat loudly, the only sound in this strange, silent world. Rhythmic and muted like the far-off chugging of a train. “Dammit! Angel?”

  He spun. Couldn’t find her. Spun again, fear climbing from his belly to his chest, where it ballooned before sliding into his throat to choke him.

  The building shook, smoke poured in from the hallway. Hands grabbed at Ford. He shoved them off. Oh shit. It was Von.

  He turned away. “Angel!” he couldn’t hear himself. Took a choked breath. “Angel!” This time, his roar burst the bubble, letting in an unbearable cacophony.

  Christ, he’d break in half if anything happened to her. Worse than that: he’d tear the world apart. Where was she? Von pulled him, struggling and half-blind, up and out the door.

  The noise was deafening. Screaming, gunshots, people dashing around, just vague shapes, flashing red lights. Sprinklers. The deafening shriek of an alarm. Smoke, acrid and thick as fog, made him hack. Absolute mayhem.

  “Stairs!” Von led the way through the fiery hellscape, through a door, and down a set of steps. Shit. Coop’s chest was tight, his lungs a mess. Not gonna make it.

  Was that Ans and Angel up ahead?

  “Move it!” Von yelled. “Your brother’ll kill me if I don’t get you out of here.”

  Ford started to laugh, which made him cough so hard his stitches must’ve popped. The pain in his shoulder was excruciating, but it pushed him through the pain meds fuzzing up his brain. With a clearer head, he picked up the pace, ignoring his unsteady legs, his lightness of breath, and the fact that the gown left his backside open to the elements.

  No fucking way was he coming back from what happened in Antarctica to get his bare ass blown up in some fancy Chilean clinic.

  Just behind Von, they burst out a fire door into the cool night, and came to an abrupt stop.

  Holy crap. He dropped his hands to his knees and bent, gasping for air.

  “Come on.” Von lifted his chin to where a car idled at the curb. “You can do that in there.”

  Blindly, he followed him and dove into the back seat.

  Angel was inside.

  “What…the hell?” He sounded like crap.

  The door slammed shut.

  “Good to meet you, Dr. Cooper. Good to see you again, Angel.” The driver—a dark-skinned woman with closely shorn hair—flicked a quick salute over her shoulder, her words just audible over the deafening buzzing in his ears. “I’m Leo Eddowes. Buckle up.”

  She pulled away, tires screeching.

  The drive to the private airstrip was absolutely silent. Coop glanced at Angel a few times, only to see her staring out at the dimly lit world. Probably angry. Which was good. It was fine. Better this way.

  Then why the hell’d he have the urge to crush something with his bare hands?

  At the airstrip, Leo led them to a small jet and got them settled. A short while later, Ans and Von joined them, sat in seats, and they took off.

  An hour into the flight, Leo made her way back to Angel and Ford, who’d sat on opposite sides of the same row.

  “All right, guys. We’ve got to talk.”

  Angel watched Leo, completely avoiding Coop.

  “There’s a hefty price on your heads. Someone wants the two of you dead. Badly.” Leo met his eyes. “And now, as far as they’re concerned…you are.”

  “Dead,” he repeated, his brain still ten steps behind.

  A glance at Angel showed her sitting stiffly in her seat, staring blankly ahead. He wanted to reach for her, to tell her it would be fine. They’d be fine.

  But Jesus, that wasn’t true, was it? And he’d never been the type to lie about bullshit like that.

  “Where are we headed?”

  “States. West Coast. We’ve got passports for both of you. We’ll get you in. Then it depends on you.” Leo’s eyes flicked from Angel to Ford and back. “Your brother’s got something he’d like you to see. After that, we can set you up wherever you want. Together or…” She paused, not quite meeting their eyes this time. “So, you two want to disappear together or are we talking multiple destinations?”

  Ford opened his mouth to reply, but Angel beat him to it.

  “Separate.” She didn’t even spare him a glance. “Ford and I are going our separate ways.”

  With a short nod, Leo made her way back to her seat, and all Ford could think was What the fuck have I done?

  * * *

  One Week Later—Polaris Platform, Somewhere off the Coast of San Diego

  “This sure is something.” Coop stared down at the ocean from the top level of the decommissioned Polaris oil platform. “So when did you become a Bond villain?” he asked his brother.

  “That’s it?” Eric straightened, looking pissed. Or like he’d taken a hit to the face. “I bring you out to show you this place, the project, our plans. I offer you part of…” He shook his head. “That’s all you’ve got? Your only response is a joke?”

  “It’s impressive, Bro. It’s just a lot.”

  “Right. Sure.” Eric looked away. When he turned back, his expression was worried. “Still in pain?”

  “No. I’m good,” he said through gritted teeth. “Doing great.”

  “Jesus, man, you’re a shitty liar.”

  He met his brother’s eyes, shocked to see absolutely no humor there.

  “Pretty sure I know the answer to this, but…what’ll it be, Ford?” Eric looked resigned. “Will you consider my offer? Join Polaris? Or are you seriously committing suicide by going back to the ice?”

  Coop couldn’t quite meet his eye. “I like it there, Eric. I’m comfortable there.”

  “Yeah, I know, Ford.” Eric leaned forward and smacked Coop’s good shoulder. The hit wasn’t entirely friendly. “But it’s too damned dangerous to be you. If you must, find some isolated glacier where nobody knows you, do your field stuff for a month every year, like a normal person, like every other goddamn researcher. Drill your cores and head home to study ’em.”

  He couldn’t do that. Live his life in labs? Didn’t matter how attractive that might sound to someone else—it wasn’t for him.

  “Take the offer. Change your name and join the team. Come on, man. Don’t waste your life hiding from the good stuff.” The way he said those two words made Coop feel like he’d never understand. Ever.

  Eric turned away to stare out at the endless blue ocean.

  Coop started to say something about how he belonged on the ice and that was where he was needed but stopped. When he looked at Eric again, there was nothing between them but the truth. “I’m lost, Eric.” He motioned toward the enormous metal structure, currently under massive renovation. “This is…awesome. I mean, magnificent. And Zoe’s…great. She doesn’t take your crap and she loves you and…”

  He stared out at San Elias Island, rising up from the water just a few miles closer to shore, sucked in the briny sea air, listened to the gulls and the light slap of water far below.

  “Why’d you start coming out here again? I mean, why San Elias instead of a million other places you could’ve picked to go fishing?”

  Eric opened his mouth and shut it, as if he’d reconsidered some wisecrack. “I missed him.”

  Dad. He
didn’t have to say it for Coop to know who he meant.

  “You ever miss him, Ford?”

  Tears hit the back of his throat in a rush, stinging his sinuses, blurring his eyes. Shocked, he could only nod in response.

  “He was a shitty dad. But he gave us each other.” After a weird, awkward pause, he moved in close to put his arm around Ford’s shoulders. Aside from the docs in the clinic, nobody’d touched him like this in forever.

  Except for Angel.

  They stood quietly for a few minutes—long enough for Eric’s arm to go from awkward to comfortable and, finally, comforting. All the while, Coop pictured being back on the ice, the way it was before. He could envision it perfectly: heading out to his drills, going back to the station, taking a load off in the galley. The problem was that he couldn’t picture anyone but Angel in the kitchen, couldn’t see himself sleeping in that same cold single bed every night of his life.

  “I miss Angel and it’s only been a week.”

  Eric dropped his arm without stepping away. Shoulder to shoulder, they faced the island that had brought them together as kids.

  “You know, life was different before Mom died,” Eric said lightly. “I was little, but I remember it. Not details, but the feel of it. Of having her. Of Dad loving someone and being loved back.” Eric leaned forward and Ford couldn’t tell if he felt better or worse with the distance between them. “You never saw them together.”

  “No. But I saw how bad off Dad was. I never knew him happy.” Dad had been a lonely, miserable mess of a human being. He’d had no time for anything, anyone. Not even his sons. He was too busy being…alone.

  The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. “She scares the shit out of me, Eric. Not her, but…” The salt air tasted like tears.

  “I’m there, Ford.” His brother nodded slowly. “Right there with you.”

  “What if…what if something…” He shut his eyes. “She’s out there on her own right now.”

  “We’ve got an eye on her.”

  Ford huffed out an annoyed breath. At himself, at his efficient brother and his black ops guys. “Don’t even know where she is. What name she’s using.”