27. Anika #2
I follow his lead, weaving between trees as armed men on skis pursue us. The whump-whump-whump of helicopter blades grows louder overhead.
“We’re surrounded!” I yell.
Griffin points ahead. “Not for long!”
The helicopter appears over a ridge, and for a terrifying moment, I think it’s OMbrA, until figures in matching maple leaf jackets leap from the open door, landing on skis. They immediately spread out in formation.
“Friends of yours?”
“Our decoys,” Griffin says, pulling me sharply right as our pursuers hesitate, confused by the sudden multiplication of targets.
The decoys converge with us, creating a diversion. We split, merge, cross paths. The guards falter, unable to track which maple leaf jacket contains their targets.
An explosion rocks the mountain behind us. I glance back to see smoke billowing from the OMbrA fortress. MI6 making their move on Nero.
The slope steepens. We pick up speed, crisscrossing with the skiers in maple leaf jackets, who mirror our movements. Behind us, the OMbrA skiers split up, trying to track each jacket.
A man on a ski bike roars toward us. One of our allies pulls something from his pocket—a small metal ball—and tosses it under the approaching vehicle. It sparks, and the bike veers wildly before crashing into a snowbank.
“Where do they get these toys?” I shout.
“Spies-R-Us!”
The pursuit grows. More OMbrA guards join the chase on skis, getting close.
“We’ve got company!” I shout.
“Split up at the next ridge!” Griffin calls over the wind rushing past our ears. “Crisscross patterns!”
A man skis alongside us. It’s Wilde.
“Hand her off,” he calls to Griffin.
Griffin squeezes my hand. “Go with him. I’ll lead them away.”
“But—”
“Trust me.”
Wilde pulls me away before I can respond. We veer sharply into a narrow chasm.
“In here,” Wilde commands, ushering us into a crevice barely visible among the rocks. “They’ll pass right by.”
Sure enough, the pursuers roar past our hiding place, chasing the decoy agents still zigzagging down the slope.
I watch the chase continue. Despite the identical outfits, I spot Griffin instantly by his distinctive hockey player’s stance.
His weight centered low, powerful turns, with the same confident edge he shows on the ice.
The pursuing guards close in. One by one, the agents peel off in different directions, each followed by a cluster of confused pursuers. Eventually, only Griffin remains, trailed by three guards on snow bikes.
Griffin speeds toward the edge of a massive drop, gaining momentum rather than slowing. The three pursuers close in, weapons raised.
“No, no, no,” I whisper.
He picks up speed, heading straight for the cliff’s edge.
“What is he doing?” My voice rises in panic.
I race to the edge of a parallel ridge, watching in horror as Griffin speeds toward the precipice without slowing down.
“Griffin!” I scream uselessly as he launches off the cliff edge, soaring into open air. For three heart-stopping seconds, he’s in free fall.
Then, with a snap, a parachute deploys above him. Brilliant red and white, a giant maple leaf unfurling above him. That lovely, ridiculous man has the Canadian flag printed on his parachute. The guards skid to a halt at the edge, unable to follow.
Relief floods through me so intensely my knees nearly buckle.
“Rather dramatic, isn’t he?” Wilde comments, appearing beside me.
The helicopter swoops down, hovering near our position. Wilde signals with a laser pointer, and the craft descends toward a small clearing.
“Time to go,” he shouts over the noise. “Your boyfriend is meeting us at the rendezvous point.”
We ski to the clearing, where the helicopter awaits with rotors whirring. Wilde helps me aboard first, then follows me inside. The craft immediately lifts off, banking sharply away from the mountain.
We descend toward a snowy, open space where I can see Griffin’s parachute already collapsed on the ground. He’s unbuckling his harness when we touch down.
I don’t wait for the rotors to stop. I leap out, stumbling through the snow toward him, my skis long abandoned.
“You idiot!” I yell, throwing myself into his arms. “You magnificent, ridiculous idiot!”
Griffin catches me, his arms strong and secure around my waist. His face is flushed from cold and exertion, snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes.
“I love you,” I blurt out, surprising myself as much as him. “I love you and your stupid hockey quotes and your crazy stunts and?—”
He cuts me off with a kiss that warms me from the inside out.
His lips are surprisingly soft against mine, a sharp contrast to the rough stubble grazing my chin.
My heart stutters, then races, and I melt into him completely.
Griffin’s arms tighten around me, pulling me closer until I can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against mine.
I’ve spent twenty-five years avoiding this very thing, building walls around myself, and here comes this goofy Canadian crashing through them like they’re made of tissue paper.
My fingers find their way to the curls at his collar, still damp from snow and sweat, and I hold on as if he might float away if I let go.
When he finally pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his hands frame my face, thumbs brushing away the tears I hadn’t realized were falling. His brown eyes are dancing with joy and surprise and delight. It makes my stomach flip in the most wonderful way.
“If this is my reward,” he says, pressing another kiss on the tip of my nose. “I might have to jump off more cliffs.”
“Welcome to Italy,” Wilde announces dryly as he walks past us. “Follow me.”
Wilde leads us through knee-deep snow, toward an amphibious all-terrain vehicle with massive tires.
“Sit tight,” Wilde says, handing us thermal blankets. “This transport will take you to a secure location in the valley.”
He checks his watch. “I’m heading back up to coordinate the raid. With any luck, we’ll have Nero in custody within the hour.”
“I don’t suppose there’s a cappuccino waiting at this secure location?” Griffin asks, completely serious. “We are in Italy after all.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “We just escaped an evil lair by skiing down a mountain with armed guards chasing us, and you’re thinking about coffee?”
Griffin shrugs, flashing that dimpled smile that makes my stomach do somersaults. “I miss my Timmies.”
“What is…Timmies?” I ask.
“Tim Hortons, of course. Best coffee on the other side of the Atlantic.”
“I beg to differ,” Wilde says, right before shutting the door. He slaps his hand on the driver’s window, signaling to head out, then ambles back through the snow.
The helicopter rotors whir to life as Wilde climbs aboard. Through the thick windows, I watch it lift off and disappear over the mountain ridge, heading back toward the OMbrA fortress.
The big beast of a vehicle we’re in lurches forward, and Griffin immediately drapes an arm around my shoulders, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My body relaxes into his side.
“So,” he says, his dimples appearing as he grins down at me. “Dating lesson recap. Skiing away from international criminals. Good date activity or bad date activity?”
I laugh despite myself. “I think I’m going to have to fire you as my dating coach. You’re terrible at it.”
“What? Why?” His mock outrage is almost convincing. “I thought the whole rescue from evil lair thing would earn me bonus points.”
“Getting kidnapped wasn’t exactly part of the dating curriculum I signed up for.” I nudge his ribs playfully. “Plus, I’m pretty sure most blind dates don’t go parachuting off a cliff.”
“Poor Thomas doesn’t stand a chance.” Griffin doesn’t look remotely sorry.
“I’m now utterly ruined for boring landscape architects.”
“I maintain I was an excellent coach. My student just fell for the teacher instead of the other guy.”
Through the window, I watch the majestic mountains retreat as we descend into the valley.
“What happens now?” I ask, suddenly serious. “When this is all over?”
Griffin considers this, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well, I was thinking we could start with that cappuccino.”
“And after that?”
“After that?” He smiles, and I see our future reflected in his eyes. “I think we still need to take down Malcolm Chase. Are you ready for one last adventure?”
“Hmmm. Maybe I’ll sit this one out, if you don’t mind.”
He leans down and kisses my nose. “I don’t mind.”