Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
T he woman had a penchant for speed, which made her all the more likable. After the first hour of riding, Brock relaxed his hold on the throttle, letting Ophelia take the lead. She had good instincts with the trail, finding the smoother areas and avoiding the thicker snow. She excelled naturally, and didn’t that just rub him the wrong way?
He could easily see over her helmet, so he scouted the area on either side for any clue as to Wyatt’s location. The fishing creek remained over several large hills, but the blizzard had been bad, so Wyatt could’ve easily wandered in the wrong direction. Unfortunately, the snow had piled up, so if he lay buried or had stumbled even just a few feet into the tree line, they could pass the man without seeing him.
The third hour in, the sun decided to give up the fight to another dark set of rolling clouds, casting shadows across the snowy landscape. If another storm came in, they’d have to turn back while they could.
He waited until he saw Cliff’s Bend in the river before tapping Ophelia’s hand.
She hesitated, caught his meaning, and let off the thumb throttle until they’d stopped in the middle of the trail. Relaxing against him, she kicked her leg over to sit sideways and flipped her face shield up with a click. “Did you see something?”
“No.” The sound of wind and frigid water hitting the rocks and ice competed with the crash of heavy clumps of snow falling from tree boughs. Warmth from the meager sun heated the chunks enough to break free of the trees, but the strengthening wind and chill would soon change that. “We need to traverse deep snow and climb that first hill to the right, so I’ll have to drive. Do you need to, ah, take care of business while we’re here?” He could kick a trail for her behind some trees.
She frowned and looked around. “There’s an outhouse around here?”
“No.” The shock of amusement that flashed through him made him press his lips together.
She blinked. “Oh.” She wiggled on the seat, her gaze thoughtful. “Um, how long will the next stop be if I wait?”
He couldn’t believe he found himself having this conversation with an FBI agent who totally wanted to screw up his life, but here he was, and thank goodness his brothers weren’t around. Well, probably. He didn’t sense Christian, so he most likely shadowed Ace to make sure he didn’t drink during the search. “We have a series of hills to climb, and the terrain will be difficult, so this is the best place for quite a while.”
She wrinkled her nose and looked around.
“Hold on.” He jumped off and strode through the snow, kicking a decent path to a set of pine trees and around it, making a good-sized area. Then he returned to her. “Just follow the trail, and you’ll be fine.”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m good. Really.”
The cute city girl didn’t want to freeze her butt in the snow. He shouldn’t like that about her. In fact, he shouldn’t be liking anything , yet he had the strangest urge to kiss her. Again. “You sure? We have a while to go, still.”
Her frown darkened. “Fine.” She pushed off the sled, wobbled a bit, and then stomped through his trail and around the trees.
He chuckled as quietly as he could and turned to slough through the snow closer to the river to relieve himself and give her some privacy. He’d been peeing in the snow since he learned to walk, but it probably seemed an odd experience for somebody from the city. Her boots and snow pants wouldn’t make it easy on her, but offering to help didn’t seem gentlemanly. Not that he was a gentleman. But, still.
She was a smart woman. Surely, she’d figure it out.
He waited a few minutes, watching the shocking blue of the melted glacier water flowing over rocks, and then headed back to the sled just as Ophelia emerged from the trees, her face a very pretty pink.
While he’d love to mess with her a little, they had to get moving. “Another storm is moving in, and our window for searching is short. We’re going to head up that hill and over two more, then we’ll be at one of the main fishing holes for Arctic Crick.” He handed her the discarded helmet.
She turned to follow his gesture. “Um. There’s no trail.”
“We’ll make one.” Being gentle and reassuring didn’t come naturally to him, and now wasn’t a good time to learn those attributes. “You need to hold on and move when I do. If you can’t, just hold on, and I’ll move you.” He tilted his head and eyed her long legs. “We’ve ridden for a while. Do you still have strength in your legs to grip tight?” Should he have forced her to stay behind?
She straightened. “Of course.”
Concern licked through him. Nobody had found a sign of Wyatt yet, and time drew short. “All right. We’re going fast, and I may need to stand. If I stand, you crouch, just holding on. Got it?”
“Sure.” Her forced nonchalance belied her slight caution as she straddled the sled.
He reached into his pocket for warmers and cracked them, gently taking off her gloves to place them inside. “If your feet get too cold, let me know when we’re at a good stopping point, and we’ll insert more into your boots.” He tapped down her face guard and settled his helmet into place, flipping his up. “If, for any reason, you panic, hold on tighter. Don’t let go.” That was the biggest risk for a second rider on a hill.
“Got it.”
They’d see about that. He sat, ignited the engine, and turned the sled to aim between two naked-looking cottonwoods. “Hold on, Agent.” Flipping his shield down, he squeezed the throttle and shot forward into the forest.
Ophelia’s thighs ached, her neck tingled, and her hands had chilled, but hill climbing felt freaking amazing. Brock moved with the machine like they were one, and she just softened against him to move with him. They rode straight up powder-covered hills, down along gullies, and then back up another hill, all covered with heavy rocks and different species of fully-grown trees. These were nowhere near as large as the jagged mountain peaks that seemed to surround them on every side, but Brock had to half-lift several times, and she followed, holding his hips tightly.
They reached the top of another hill, rode along the ridge, and then he turned to descend. Below them, a wide valley spread out, bisected by yet another rushing river crusted with ice. This one ran thicker than several of the streams and creeks they’d skirted but not as wide as the main river that extended from town.
Her lungs compressed, making her breathe heavier. They had definitely changed altitudes, and even the snowdrifts stood higher and icier. It had been winter up here for much longer than in town.
Brock wound the snowmobile between thick trees. Every time he ducked, she followed suit. Soon they rode close to the newest river, heading toward the west, and more snow, river, and trees. A loud howl somehow surrounded them. Wolf pack?
She swallowed and slid her arms closer around his torso, holding tightly.
He slowed, found a small gulley beneath some trees, and coasted to a stop.
She tugged up her visor. “We’re here?”
He partially turned, lifting his shield. “We’ll ride along the river and sweep left to follow Arctic Crick. I’ll have to cross the river, so we’ll get a little wet, but I’ll try to find a shallow place.”
She gulped and looked over at the water. “Why not go here? The ice covers it.” The blanket looked solid.
He shook his head. “The sled is heavier than you think. It’ll be another couple of weeks before we can cross the rivers safely around here. For now, just keep an eye out for anything that looks odd or out of place. We found a missing tourist once by spotting his fishing pole leaning against a tree. He lay half-submerged in the river, but it was summer, and he’d managed to keep his head above water, even with a broken leg. You ready?”
“Yes.” Her entire body felt like it had been through a spaghetti strainer, but she held his waist again, already swiveling to look all around them. How could Wyatt have survived the night out here? It must have gotten to at least ten degrees or more below zero the night before. Perhaps she should look for some sort of shelter. That’d be branches over snow, right?
Brock drove along the river across rough ground, and the snowmobile bucked several times. Finally, he tapped her leg in warning before turning sharply and gunning the engine, rushing over river rocks and cracking ice in a narrower part of the river. Water dragged across her boots, and she tightened her hold with her legs, her breath catching in her throat.
Then they reached the other side. He drove away from the river, along a narrow stream, and wove around bare cottonwoods that looked lonely and cold in the wintery landscape.
She blinked against the constant white, trying to see anything out of the ordinary. Brock slowed the sled, driving as close to the stream as possible and scouting the tree line. The entire area appeared untouched by any human for centuries.
They drove for what seemed like forever, and the snow began falling heavier, the wind picking up as if in tune. The stream widened into a river that appeared fathomless beneath a crust of ice. Her eyelids started to get heavy, and her body settled against his.
She yawned in the helmet, stopping halfway at seeing a patch of black in the snow. Stiffening, she tapped his leg and pointed farther ahead.
He twisted his head and then lowered it, speeding up.
Her heart beat faster, and she stiffened as more black came into view, right near the rushing river. A black coat, lightly covered with snow. They reached a couple of feet away, and Brock cut the engine, jumping off before the sound dissipated. He shoved through snow up beyond his knees.
Ophelia pushed off the sled, sinking into the powder and following Brock’s tracks.
He bent and wiped off what appeared to be jeans. It was a man, face down. Brock shoved more snow off the guy, and red mixed with the ice. A lot of frozen red. Blood? It had to be. Ophelia tugged off her helmet and set it on the crusty snow, leaning around Brock. Grunting, he grabbed the man’s hips and flipped him over.
Ophelia caught sight of the guy’s neck before Brock turned, blocking her view. He pulled off his helmet and handed it to her. “Take these back to the sled.”
She accepted his helmet out of instinct and then placed it by hers before pulling off her gloves to take her phone out of her pocket. “I know he’s dead, Brock.” The body definitely appeared frozen.
Brock swallowed, his darker skin pale, his green eyes blazing. “You don’t need to see him.”
The kindness of his move caught her before she touched his arm. “It’s sweet, but I’m an FBI agent. This isn’t my first body. Do you always protect women from bad things?”
His chin lifted. “Women? No, just you.” He sighed. “I served with plenty of strong and impressive women in the service. Trust me when I say that you don’t want to see this.”
She paused, oddly touched. Just her? “I can do my job.” With that, she strode around him, her phone ready to take pictures. Her instant gasp echoed through the trees. “What in the world?” A Caucasian male of about fifty years old lay face up, half his face clawed off. His neck hung from several tendons, and both eyes had been gouged out. Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed it down. “Wh-what could have done this?” She took several pictures.
Brock remained silent.
“This isn’t Wyatt,” she whispered. The guy appeared to be in his fifties. Maybe sixties.
“I know,” Brock said, reaching for his radio. “I don’t know his identity.”
Something caught her eye, and she reached down, brushing more snow off the jacket. EVE stood out, neatly embroidered across the right chest.
“Ah, crap,” Brock muttered. “Give me a second.” He walked back to the snowmobile, grabbing the helmets and gloves on his way.
She stood and took several more pictures before shoving the phone into her pocket. While cell service didn’t exist out here, the camera worked perfectly. “We should?—”
A crack echoed before the snow billowed up next to her. Then another one.
“Shots fired!” Brock bellowed.
Awareness hit her the second before she ducked.
Brock leaped for her, but she fell back, her butt hitting ice. It cracked, and she fell through into the river, plummeting. Her jacket snagged on a rock, dragging her farther down.
Ice-cold glacier water swallowed her whole, covering her scream.