Chapter 7
“I thought I told you to stay put.” Nick’s heart thundered inside his chest. He’d been studying the shack, searching for signs of habitation, when he’d heard someone running up behind him.
His first instinct was to shoot first and ask questions later. When he’d turned his weapon on his pursuer, he recognized the powder-blue jacket and snowpants.
As quickly as he recognized her, he realized she was running right for a cabin that could be occupied by a killer, waiting for just this kind of opportunity.
He’d done the only thing he could think to do.
He’d knocked her off the trail and behind a tree, out of sight and hopefully out of target range.
“Get. Off. Me,” she forced out between wheezing breaths.
Nick rolled to the side and up onto his haunches, alert for any movement from the shack and nearby. “How am I supposed to protect you if you don’t do as I tell you?” he hissed.
“My father could be in there.” She lay on her back for another moment, sucking in a deep breath before sitting up.
“I take it this is Moose Lodge?” He leaned out from the trunk of the tree, his pistol in the lead. “Not much of a lodge.”
“Yeah. My dad and his buddies spend their weekends fishing from here in the summer.”
Nick sat back on his heels behind the tree. “If I go check things out, can I count on you to stay still?” He focused the full intensity of his gaze on her.
A glazed look formed over Mary’s eyes, and she nodded.
As if he’d believe she’d stay put. She’d chased after him on the trail. “I won’t leave if I think you’ll run out like an idiot again.”
Her back stiffened. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Then don’t put yourself in harm’s way.” He couldn’t help himself. The hurt doe-eyed look she gave him, followed by the stubborn set of her jaw made him want to kiss her.
Despite his best judgment, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Before he could deepen the contact and forget his mission, he jumped to his feet and ran toward the house.
His soldier training kicking in, he hugged the trees surrounding the clearing and zigzagged to limit the targeting experience of a would-be assassin.
The clearing remained silent, snow falling in thick waves, the wind lifting and swirling the white flakes to slap against his face. His passage didn’t stir human, bird or animal. He was alone. Or was he?
When he reached the door, he studied the shadows in the woods to the left and right of the structure.
His hand closed on the latch holding the door shut, and he eased up on it, careful not to make a sound.
Nick sucked in a deep breath and slammed his heel against the wooden planks.
The door flung open, crashing against the wall with the force of his kick.
Nick held back a second and then, crouching low, ducked inside, his eyes adjusting to the gloom within. The room was warm as though someone had been there recently. The glowing coals of a dying fire smoldered in the roughed-in fireplace.
“He’s not here, is he?”
Nick swung around, his weapon pointed at Mary’s chest, her powder-blue jacket covered in a light dusting of white.
Her hands whipped up in a defensive position, her eyes wide, her pretty mouth formed in the shape of a startled O.
“Do you have a death wish, woman?” He yanked her out of the doorframe into the room and shut the door behind her.
“No, but I want to know what happened to my father.” Her voice shook as she stared at the gun. “You would have shot me, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe I should have.” He shook his head. “You seem hell-bent on getting yourself killed today.” His gaze shifted from her back to the room.
“I’m just concerned about my father.” Her unspoken message told him more than her words.
“You don’t trust me, do you?” His head tipped to the side.
“Would you trust you if you were me?”
Nick chuckled, the absurdity of her words lightening his anger.
“You don’t have to laugh at me. You’re the one carrying a gun. What am I supposed to do, let you shoot my father?”
Lowering his gun, Nick walked over to her and grabbed her shoulders.
“I’m not here to kill your father. The sooner you believe me, the sooner we can get on with finding him.
” He shouldn’t have moved that close. It only made him want to get closer and he still hadn’t ascertained the safety of their current position. Nick sighed and let go of her.
“I’m trying hard to believe you, but I don’t have much to go on. You haven’t shown me any credentials.”
“We don’t carry them. I work for a secret organization. Emphasis on secret.”
“And that’s supposed to set my mind at ease?” She snorted, rubbing her gloved hands over her arms as if chasing away a chill. “People who live with secrets are only covering nasty truths.”
“Or protecting others.” Nick lifted a book from a makeshift kitchen table. He opened it, fanning through the pages. Dust wafted through the room. “It’s as much as you’ll get. You’ll just have to go on blind faith.”
“That’s a tough sell.” She circled the tiny room in four steps, lifting a sleeping bag from a cot in the corner. “He was here. This is his.
“Are you sure it wasn’t left here and someone else used it?”
Mary lifted the bag and sniffed. “No, that’s Dad’s cologne. I’d know it anywhere.” She hugged the sleeping bag to her chest and stared across the floor at him. “What’s happening, Nick? Who would want to hurt my father?”
“I don’t know any more than I know who killed Frank Richards, but we need to get out of here. If I’m not mistaken, there was more than one set of snowmobile tracks in the snow outside.”
Mary tossed the bag on the cot, and something fell to the floor between the cot and the wall. She reached for it and straightened, a newspaper clutched in her hand. “This is odd.”
“What is?” Nick crossed to stand beside her, staring down at a copy of the Fairbanks Daily News Miner, dated the day before.
“Dad’s on the run and he takes the time to read the newspaper?” A shiver shook her body, and she tucked the paper inside her jacket. “We’d better get back before this snowstorm gets any worse. The temperature is falling fast.”
Nick shook his head. And he thought it couldn’t get any colder.
He’d been on missions in frigid climates, but he was fast learning a new meaning for the word cold.
“Let me.” He pushed her to the side of the door and opened it, standing away from the entrance.
Nothing moved but the continuous downpour of heavy snowflakes.
He glanced at her. “Do I have to tie you up to make you wait for my signal?”
Mary sighed. “No. I’ll wait.”
He didn’t have any rope, but if he did, he’d sure as hell tie her up.
Twice now she’d jumped the gun before he’d secured the perimeter.
All he could go on was her word, which hadn’t been very reliable thus far.
Nick slipped through the door and made a complete circle around the cabin, looking for footprints or any other sign of someone lurking, waiting to pounce.
When he reached the front of the cabin he paused and listened.
“Whoever was here is gone. Aren’t you giving it a little overkill?” Mary asked from deep in the shadows of the cabin.
A surge of anger came and went. She was probably right. If her father had been there, he’d definitely left.
Unbidden, an image of Frank Richards’ blood-soaked body rose in his mind. Nick’s chest tightened as he imagined Mary dead because he didn’t take precautions. No, his actions weren’t overkill.
An arctic blast reminded him they weren’t in the clear yet. The best they could hope for was to get back to town before they couldn’t see the trail at all. Nick studied the snow falling in the dusky shadows. Hell, they might already be too late. “Let’s go.”
Mary hurried out of the cabin, her blue gaze darting to the left and right.
Hiding a grin, Nick turned and slogged his way through the mounting snow to the snowmobile they’d left down the trail. Mary might make a good agent if she weren’t so impetuous. She was growing on him, and he had to admit he liked it when she fit snugly against him on the back of the snowmobile.
His snowsuit tightened at the thought and tightened even more when he slid in place on the vinyl seat.
Mary hopped on behind him, slipped her arms around his waist and tucked her body against his. Okay, maybe riding double wasn’t such a good idea. At this rate, he’d run into a tree if he couldn’t keep his mind off the blond beauty with the bizarre name.
In his head, Nick reminded himself about rule number one of being a special agent: never fall for the beautiful woman. They’re always trouble.
Remember Elaina?
Nick turned the key and revved the engine, spinning the snowmobile around in a circle.
Mary’s arms tightened around his middle.
Maybe he wasn’t being fair to Mary. Elaina had been a dark-haired, sultry beauty, working as a double agent.
He’d fallen for all her lies and, because of his lapse in judgment, almost got himself and fellow agent Casanova Valdez killed.
Nick had deserved to die for his lapse in common sense, but his mistake shouldn’t have endangered his friend. Of course, Mary wasn’t Elaina.
Mary’s bright blue eyes and silky blond hair gave her the appearance of an angel, innocent and gullible. But he’d seen the strength of devotion to her father. She’d be a force to reckon with if someone threatened her or her father.
Nick wondered what it felt like to love a father the way Mary loved hers. He hadn’t stayed long enough in any foster home to form an attachment to a father figure. The closest he’d come was his respect for Royce Fontaine, his friend and mentor.
With the thickening snow drowning out any bit of light from the winter sun, the going was slow and took twice as long as the trip out. The wind kicked up, biting through his gloves, making his fingers numb.