High Speed Holiday

What did she expect? Guys liked the idea of her being a cop for about ten minutes. Just until she had to do her job and go into the danger.

Sylvie turned her back on him and approached the Jeep. She breached the pines and came up on the rear of the vehicle. With one hand, she grabbed her flashlight and shined the beam into the rear window. Through the back driver’s side door, she peered inside.

No signs of life were evident.

“There’re snowmobile tracks out here,” Ian whispered loudly from the other side of the trees. “Whoever he is, he’s long gone.”

“Well, his Jeep won’t be here when he returns. I’ll have it processed for prints before the morning.”

“Get away from the car.”

Sylvie shined the light in the direction of Ian. “Excuse me? You keep forgetting this is what I do. I go in when you can’t. I definitely don’t take orders from you. I may have to protect you with my life, but the oath ends there.”

“Get...away...from...the car!”

Ian’s tone had Sylvie questioning her decision to approach the vehicle in the first place. Did he know something?

Slowly, she stepped back through the pines. His arms were around her so fast, lifting her frame off the ground and across the road. She barely had time to fight back with anything more than a few twists of her body when a flash of light lit the sky above and an explosion rushed at her from behind.

A painful ringing filled her head. It took her a few seconds to realize she was on the ground with Ian over her. His head of hair brushed her neck. Her gun and flashlight were gone to places unknown, her ears pierced with the effects of the blast.

Her lungs emptied in the toss. They burned with a need for air that Ian’s weight didn’t allow for replenishing.

Sylvie banged a fist on his back. “Can’t—” she pushed out in a squeak “—breathe.”

Ian moaned, but didn’t move quickly enough for her. She banged three more times before his head lifted with a dazed look of confusion.

Had he lost consciousness? She couldn’t assess him until she could breathe.

Ian snapped to and rolled off her, allowing air to enter her body. Heat roared at her from the fire across the road, fighting her for the oxygen. She heaved over in spasms.

“Easy. Slow it down. Breathe into your nose, not your mouth.” Ian’s soothing commands and his hand on her back told her he’d returned to her side.

But what about him? He’d taken the brunt of the blast. Was he burned?

Sylvie followed his directions but willed her lungs to fill enough for her to help.

“Let me check you out,” she said on a breathy whisper.

“Just a little singed. The coat’s trashed. I can feel wind on my back, and it actually feels good. I probably won’t need a haircut for a while, either.” He laughed, but she didn’t think she’d heard such nervousness in him before.

“Just humor me and turn around.”

“Fine, but I may not be decent.” More nervousness threaded through his voice. He was scared.

But then so was she.

“The trees took the brunt.”

Sylvie glanced at the flaming pine trees with the burning car behind them. The trees had saved their lives.

But Ian had saved hers by telling her to get away from the car in the first place.

“How did you know?” Her voice cracked.

She touched his obliterated jacket pieces, pulling them away from his body. His shirt stuck to him. He grunted when she lifted it.

“You’re burned, but I don’t think anything more than second degree in a couple spots. It’ll feel like a bad sunburn.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Ian rolled and lay in the snow, gritting his teeth against the cold, but it seemed welcoming at the same time.

“You still haven’t told me how you knew.”

“Just a feeling of impending doom. I’m attuned to stuff like that.”

“From experience?”

“You could say that. You face it enough times and you start to live on the balls of your feet, ready to spring into action or retreat, whatever comes first. Besides, it looked like a setup. Like I was supposed to find that car. Me. Not you. Regardless of your oath and duty you didn’t sign up for this.” He lifted up from the snow and leaned in close. “Leave me here. Go home to your son. I would never forgive myself if he lost you because of me.”

“Because you’re not worth me doing my job?”

Cruisers’ lights and sirens blared off in the distance as they stared at each other.

“You shouldn’t have come looking for me at my apartment.”

“And find you washed up on the riverbank instead? I don’t think so. Someone wants you six feet under, Mr. Stone. They’re going to have to go through me first.”

“You see the flames, right? The Spencers are your friends but with me around they won’t think twice about leaving your son an orphan.”

Cars rushed in and squeaked to a stop around them. As glad as she was to have their help, they could use this scene against her, especially if Preston was right in his thinking and somebody wanted her off the job. “Can you not tell them I approached the vehicle alone?”

Ian eyed her quizzically. “Aren’t you the chief?”

“Yes, but I still have two more months on my probationary period and someone on the force may be looking for any slipup to stack against me. Please.”

“Only if I get a sled.”

“No way. You’re going into protective custody. I can’t allow you to go up the mountain with us.”

“And I can’t allow you to put yourself in danger for me.”

“It’s my job, Ian.”

“Not for long if I tell them you approached the car without backup.”

“That’s blackmail. I can arrest you, you know.”

Ian shrugged. “I’m always ready to spring into action, whatever that might be. In this case it will be your choice how this all goes down. So, what’s your decision, Chief? Do I get a sled or do your weekends open up?”

“You could be killed,” she said quietly.

“And so could you. Don’t make me responsible for leaving your son alone in this world. I have to look myself in the mirror every day. You should know about mirrors more than anyone. You’ve made sacrifices to give Jaxon a good life.”

His reference to her circumstances as a pregnant teen silenced her. He’d obviously done the math. However, she didn’t feel his judgment like so many others. Just his understanding. She did what she had to do to look herself in the mirror every day. She couldn’t take that from Ian.

“Chief!” Smitty fell to his knees beside her. His wisps of balding hair fell in his face. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m fine. Ian has lost his coat. Did you bring the winter gear? He’ll need a set.”

“A full set? Is he going up the mountain?” Smitty glanced Ian’s way in confusion. Caution took over. “Who are you?”

“He says he’s Lu—”

“I’m Ian Stone.” Ian glared at Sylvie as he cut her off. “Just call me Ian, and everyone stays safe.”

Sylvie realized the ramifications of having this knowledge. If someone was trying to kill Ian before Roni and Wade learned he was alive, they could come after her, too.

Protecting Ian was one thing, but as a single mother, making herself a target was not a road she could afford to go down.

* * *

“Ian’s going up because he thinks he can ID the shooter,” Sylvie told her men.

Ian nodded at her decision to allow him to stick by her. He really had no intention of getting her fired if she didn’t comply, but he did intend to keep her alive. And to do that, he couldn’t stay behind.

Sylvie jumped to her feet with rapid orders spilling from her lips. Her team responded on her command. When no one squabbled over her decision, Ian could tell they respected her as their leader.

One half of the team stayed to process the scene and wait for the fire department, while the other prepped the sleds and geared up.

As Ian pulled on his second glove and stamped his feet in the too-tight boots given to him, Sylvie pushed a helmet at his chest.

“Don’t make me regret this, Ian. And make sure you stay alive.” She climbed on her sled. “We ride!” Three of her officers fell in behind her. Ian straddled his sled and started the engine. He revved the gas by turning the handle and after getting acquainted with his machine, saluted Sylvie to let her know he was good to go.

She took off at a breakneck speed. She’d hinted at racing cars as a retired pastime, but obviously snowmobiling hadn’t been given up. Ian had trouble keeping up with her and her team. He had one officer behind him, pressing in on his tail. The guy didn’t like lagging behind, judging by the way he pressed close. Ian gave his sled more gas and leaned in.

Still the officer hedged in.

The officers’ helmets had radios installed in them so they could talk with each other, but no one had given him one. Yelling at the guy to back off did nothing. Ian couldn’t even hear himself over the engines.

But he could feel the officer practically breathing down his neck. Ian’s sled was already pushed to the max. What more did the guy want? Any faster and Ian would be on top of the officer in front of him. He pushed on, but finally couldn’t take it.

Ian flashed his headlight to get someone’s attention.

Only not one person ahead or behind responded with a word or hand signal. Not even a brake light to show they’d slowed down.

Was it a scare tactic done by the police? Was Sylvie in on this?

Ian’s snowmobile jerked and skidded from an impact from behind. He’d been hit. He righted his machine, but knew the officer had struck him with his sled. This just went from annoying to...calculated.

But Sylvie couldn’t be involved. Her oath of duty to serve and protect drove her every decision. The cop behind him was working alone...or perhaps was working for someone else.

The Spencers.

Their wealthy reach exceeded the local PD. They must have people bought and paid for in every back pocket of their designer jeans.

Ian craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the guy so determined to push him off course.

For what?

Was the shooter waiting for him nearby? Maybe this officer just had to roll Ian’s sled off the path and let the killer finish what he was sent here to do.

Get rid of Luke Spencer.

Ian jammed the back of his sled out in a fishtail to push his pursuer off. He stood to his feet on the sled and ramped up the engine to catch up with the officers in the lead. His engine screamed at the assault. He cranked the handle harder, popping the front end of the sled up and back down with a thud.

His teeth jarred with the impact, then clenched as the machine blasted up the mountain. A quick glance over his shoulder and he found his tail gone. Ian drove on and quickly caught up with the other four officers.

The number stumped him. There had been three officers and the chief when they set out, and still there were three officers and the chief.

Then who had been trying to run him off the path?

Ian pushed on to reach the group. Something told him the guy they were pursuing had been behind him the whole time.

The assassin had made the tracks for them to follow, then circled back around to nab his assignment. But where were the tracks leading the police?

Trap. The word lodged in Ian’s throat. He shouted it to no avail. They would never hear his warning before whatever awaited them made its appearance. With no radio, all he could do was race headfirst with them into a trap that Sylvie would fall into before anyone else.

Ian had to stop her. She was experienced, but in the dark mountain night, with only the lights on their sleds, her vision was limited to a few feet. Just enough to keep an eye on the tracks leading them to...where?

A dead end?

Sweat poured down Ian’s back into his suit. His burns were nothing compared to the painful fear gripping his lungs in a vise. Sylvie didn’t deserve this. He was the one who’d brought this danger to her town. He was the one they wanted, and they didn’t mind killing a few cops to achieve their goal.

It wouldn’t even look like murder. It would look like a horrible snowmobile accident that took the lives of four brave officers in hot pursuit. This guy was a skilled mastermind killer.

Ian pushed on, but realized he would need to leave the path and cut them off ahead. It would be the only way to stop them.

Ian peered into the darkness for an alternate path. When one off to his left came into view, he took it and brought his sled up and around a steep pass. At a point he had to stand and lean forward to prevent his sled from falling backward. Overturning it now would be catastrophic.

Finally, his path rejoined the other one, but Sylvie had already flown by.

Ian was able to pull out and cut the officers off.

Two collided at the shock of seeing him, not able to brake fast enough. The third officer pulled off to the side.

Ian whipped off his helmet. “It’s a trap! The guy tried to take me out down the mountain. One of you, radio to stop her.”

“Her radio’s not working!” the one who had pulled off shouted. “We’ve been trying to get ahold of her.”

Ian didn’t wait for any instructions. He had to get Sylvie. He pushed his sled back into Drive and screamed it up the mountain.

Quickly, she came into view...but so did the end of the road. Ian’s light took in all that surrounded her from this far back. But she would only see what was directly in front of her. What she was meant to see.

The tracks.

Tracks that were about to come to an end without warning—straight off the side of the mountain.

FOUR

Sylvie cranked her throttle to give her engine the gas it needed to continue its steep ascent. She tried her radio again.

No response. She risked a glance over her shoulder to catch her team’s headlights. At least one kept up.

She slowed to allow the rest to do so and quickly the one sled pulled up alongside her. A gloved hand reached over and grabbed her hand.

“What are you doing?” she yelled inside her helmet. She didn’t expect an answer. But suddenly the man pulled her hard and she lost her grip on the snowmobile. His assault didn’t let up and before she could fight back, she found herself draped over his sled and veering in another direction.

The ride came to an abrupt end and Sylvie pushed off into the three-foot-deep snow, landing on her back.

The driver’s hand lifted her up. Sylvie ripped away from him to go after her sled.

Only she couldn’t see it. She also couldn’t hear it.

She tore off her helmet and looked back at the man who’d removed her from her ride. She stepped up to his sled and hit the red kill switch. The machine shut down instantly. “Take the helmet off.”

He did as he was told.

Ian’s face appeared beneath the great unveiling.

“I should have left you behind,” Sylvie said.

“Because I saved your life again?”

“How did you save my life?”

“Do you see your sled around? No, you don’t. That’s because it was a trap. You were following tracks that led you off the side of the mountain.”

Sylvie whipped around to search the darkness for her snowmobile. Even if it had crashed and the headlight had gone out she would have seen evidence of it around. A dark abyss less than ten feet away could only be what swallowed it, and it would have taken her right along with it if...

“We weren’t the ones doing the chasing,” Ian said. “He tried to get me away from the pack a little ways back there.”

She pivoted back. “While sending the cops to their deaths?”

“Looks that way. You should get as far away from me as you can before it’s too late for you and your men. Go now. Leave me here. I beg of you.”

“Be serious. I’m not leaving you up here. You’d die before morning, whether killed by this guy or the elements.” Sylvie needed to do what their enemy wouldn’t expect. Did he know these mountains? If she went left, she would pick up the McKeeny Pass and could cut down into inhabited land. There was also an emergency supply cabin at the beginning of the pass. But if she started on her way, it would be for the duration.

“You up for a ride?”

“I don’t think this is a good time for an adventure.”

“It’s not a good time to die, either. I’m thinking our guy will be expecting us to double back. He’ll be waiting to spring another trap for you. Christmas is two days away. I mean to be sitting around a tree sipping eggnog, and I’d like to do that without all the paperwork your death would heap on my desk. I’d also like to be alive to pick my son up from the hospital in the morning.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“I know another way down. We have to go across the McKeeny Pass. The ridge runs along for a few miles, then it descends to safety. You can trust me. I’ve driven these trails many times, but there’s a chance we’ll run out of gas and will need to walk the rest of the way. Are you too hurt for that?”

“I’m fine. Hop on.”

“Wait, I need to tell my men.”

As if on cue, the three of them cleared the slope. “Chief? Are you all right?”

“Karl!” Sylvie approached them. “We’re not going down the way we came up. It’s too risky for Ian. I’m taking him across the pass. Are you guys able to get back down?”

“We lost a sled, but we’ll double up.”

“Us too. I need you off this mountain as fast as possible. We’re dealing with a psychopath who doesn’t care if he takes you out in the process.”

“Should we call Reggie?”

The name Reggie froze Sylvie’s chest faster than the freezing temperature “No. There’s no need to call him in. Let him enjoy his retirement.”

“But—”

“No buts. Do not, I repeat, do not call Reginald Porter. We will catch this guy on our own. Now go.”

Her men followed her orders, but she could tell they were hoping to call in the man who had been next in line for the chief position. She still had a lot to prove to her team. Sylvie hoped catching this guy and keeping Ian safe would be what it took to earn her rightful place as chief in their eyes. But even if it didn’t, it wouldn’t change the fact that she was still in charge.

* * *

Ian held on to Sylvie’s waist as she pushed the snowmobile through deep snow. He kept an eye out behind him every few seconds to be sure they didn’t have unwanted company. Two hours of riding at a slow twenty miles an hour, Ian worried they weren’t putting enough distance between them and his would-be assassin. The guy knew how to use these treacherous drops to his advantage. Ian peered over the side of the ridge to his right. One push and they would be bouncing over jagged rocks all the way down. In addition to speed, he questioned Sylvie’s choice of path.

The snowmobile slowed even more until it drifted to an idling stop. Sylvie hopped off and indicated a small cabin down the hill about a hundred feet. The snowdrifts covered the door to about a foot from the top.

Sylvie’s short legs disappeared in the heavy snow as she made tracks to the building. She pushed through, breaking trail with all her strength.

Ian joined her and reached the door to help her scoop the drifts away in a flying flurry. The door opened inward with ease and a cold woodstove in the center of the one-room cabin greeted them.

Sylvie lifted the visor of her helmet. The fact that she didn’t remove it completely told him this was a quick stop. He lifted his own as she went to a cabinet in search of something.

“Do you use this place a lot?”

“No, but I know it’s stocked with things we might need to keep going.” She lifted two pairs of snowshoes from a rack.

“We’re hoofing it from here?”

“This is heavy snow and not compacted down. It’s causing the sled to use more gas than normal to get us through. I almost thought we wouldn’t make it here at all.”

“There’s no gas here?”

She slammed a cabinet door then opened another. “Not that I can find. I’ll make a note to have it stocked.” Sylvie looped ropes over her shoulder. “When I was younger the McKeeny Pass was a place I would come to, to silence the world.”

“Silence? Those sleds are the loudest things I’ve ever heard, and I work in construction.”

She moved on to a drawer. “I guess the motor never bothered me, but I know there are people who hate it. Same thing with the racetrack.”

“And yet that’s not a part of your life anymore.”

“Things change. Times change. Responsibilities change.”

“Right, and your responsibilities dictate your days now, including protecting me. It doesn’t matter how much you hate them.”

“Hate is an emotion, and in this job there’s no room for emotions. I make the best decisions I can with what is given to me.”

“I’ve got news for you. I haven’t been given to you, so you don’t need to view me as one of your responsibilities to handle.”

The whiny pine of a snowmobile drifted from the east.

“You’re wrong. You’re in my jurisdiction. I am responsible for what happens to you.” She pushed the snowshoes into his arms. “Now let’s move. That sled is getting closer.”

Sylvie whipped her right-hand glove off and retrieved her gun from her holster. The .45 Glock consumed her small hand as she readied it to shoot. He closed the door as she led the way back to the sled. He dropped the snowshoes into the storage under the seat and waited for her to climb on.

“You’re driving. I’m riding shotgun. Just follow the pass until it ends. If we make it that far, we’ll stop and I’ll give you directions from there. Pray that we do.” With that she dropped her visor and communication ended.

Ian climbed on and started the engine. The gas gauge indicated less than a quarter tank. He closed his eyes and said a prayer to the only Father he’d ever had. The only Father who cared about him and promised blessings beyond Ian’s imagination. Even when Ian didn’t deserve them.

Ian hit the gas and moved across the pass as fast as the machine could get through the treacherous level of snow. He felt Sylvie grab hold of his waist with one hand and felt where she held her gun tucked against his back. But that meant her glove was still off. Her hand had to be freezing with the frigid cold and no covering, even held protectively between them. Would she be able to pull the trigger?

He pushed on so she wouldn’t have to.

The only consolation was the assassin would be having just as much trouble getting through the elements as them.

The sled’s high beam flickered and dimmed. The motor strained. The end of the road neared for them whether the pass came to an end or not.

Out of the corner of Ian’s left eye, he saw movement come at them. His pursuer had found a faster way up here to cut them off. Ian yanked the sled to his left to cut in front of the other rider.

He gave the sled the last surge of gas to power them ahead. The motor screamed and the assassin’s headlight came up on the right side. One shove over and Ian might be able to end this right now. But that risked sending them over the edge right along with him. Still, Ian had to lose the guy, but maybe breaking away wasn’t the answer.

He let off the gas and pressed the brake controls, not enough to stop completely, but to slow down enough that the two sleds rode side by side. The two drivers looked at each other, their visors hiding their identities. Ian reached his right hand out as Sylvie’s gun appeared over his shoulder aimed at the other rider. The hitman reached for the gun as Ian reached for the guy’s kill switch.

The round red button that Sylvie had used on his own sled before depressed easily and shut down the machine, lights and all, in an instant. In the same moment, Ian kicked his foot out and sent the sled into a flip. The driver went flying over his handle controls and landed in the snow ahead of them.

Ian’s machine puttered by him as the guy reached for them. Please God, just a little farther to give us some space. Ian managed to squeeze out enough gas for another few hundred feet. He moved the vehicle down to the left behind some trees and he and Sylvie made fast work strapping on their snowshoes.