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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.
They lifted their visors to talk. No need to whisper since the assassin’s motor was back in full swing and would be coming up on them real soon.
“Do you know where we are?”
“Yes, but we have to keep moving. There’s a home nearby.”
“Someone lives up here on this mountain?”
Sylvie didn’t reply and Ian took that as a sign to keep moving. They hoofed it for what could only be another mile. The sound of the motor ceased, which meant the guy either gave up his chase or was following on foot. Snow fell down on them, first a few light spattering flakes, but quickly Ian’s visor required swipe after swipe. His fingers numbed quickly even in his gloves. A look to his left and he saw Sylvie still held the gun, her hand exposed. He reached for the gun and had to pry it from her hand. Not because she fought him, but because it had frozen to her skin. He took his own glove off and pushed her small hand into it. His would be warmer than the one in her pocket.
Ian pushed up her visor and witnessed pain on her face. She fought it with her every breath and averted her gaze to his right. A glance that way and he saw a rustling in some snow-covered shrubs.
A bear, perhaps? Great. If the killer and the snowstorm weren’t enough, now they would have a preying animal on their heels.
Ian lifted the gun in his hand and took aim at a creature barreling at them full force. The animal bounced up and out of the snow, flying through a blinding flurry of whiteness. The rapidly falling snow made it impossible to tell what kind of animal had set their sights on them.
Ian could do only one thing.
As he pressed the trigger to unload the bullet, Sylvie steamrolled herself directly at him, sending them both sinking into the snow.
Ian quickly rolled over to protect her from the approaching threat. Figures the woman would want to protect the animal. “Do your responsibilities extend to protecting the creatures in your jurisdiction, too?”
The animal landed hard on Ian’s back, putting its whole weight on him and not giving an inch.
Sylvie glanced over Ian’s shoulder, her eyes wide.
“Is it a bear?” Ian asked low and controlled. Sweat beaded up on his forehead.
A giggle erupted from Sylvie, and Ian realized it was the first time he’d heard her laugh. It was the first lightheartedness he’d seen her express. Never would he think it would come out in a time of danger.
“Well, what is it?” he demanded.
She reached a hand up and lifted his visor. “It’s Promise.” Her lips curled with mischief.
“Promise? Promise what? Now’s not the time to be making deals, Sylvie. Just tell me what kind of animal is on my back. Is it a mountain lion?”
“She just told you,” a deep male voice spoke from above them. He sounded mad and lethal. Had his killer caught up to them? “Promise is my service dog, and you nearly killed her. That doesn’t make us friends, just so you know.”
Ian squinted into Sylvie’s almond-shaped eyes. He knew them to be green, but without light all he could see was the glistening tears of laughter in them. “What’s so funny?”
“Ian, meet Wade Spencer.” She lifted her head and chinked her helmet against his. She moved her lips in a bare whisper. “Your brother.”
FIVE (#u11605847-df51-549e-a4e5-f6be1ff89e9a)
Stockings hung with embroidered names from the Spencer family’s fireplace mantle, some old and worn, many new. Sylvie watched Ian study the long row before he gave his attention back to rubbing her pained fingers near the flame.
“I don’t need you to do this,” she said. “I can warm my own hands.”
Ian rubbed on, glancing over his shoulder. She followed his gaze and saw they were alone. “Why did you bring me here?” he demanded. “They are the enemy. They’re the ones behind ordering the kill.”
“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I believed that. They are good people.”
His hands pressed harder. “Good people with money. That Christmas tree has to be pushing twenty feet.” Ian jabbed his head in the direction of the elaborate holiday spruce reaching to the high ceiling of the Spencers’ ten-thousand-square-foot home. He nodded to the long row of stockings. “Who are all these people? Do they all live here?”
“No.” Sylvie pointed to the first two stockings in the line. “Wade and Lacey are married. She’s expecting their first baby any day now. In fact I think she’s overdue. But soon there’ll be another stocking beside theirs.”
Sylvie couldn’t contain the excitement about the new arrival. She was so happy for Wade and prayed his new baby would bring healing to him just as Jaxon had done for her so many years ago. She wasn’t the same person she was before, all because of a new life.
She pointed to the next stockings in line. “Roni is married to Ethan. They do live here. Ethan was an FBI agent and the FBI called him in to help with an undercover case for a few weeks. But Roni still has his stocking out, so maybe he’ll be home for Christmas. Then there’s Cora, who used to be the Spencers’ maid, but she married their uncle Clay, making her official family, not that she wasn’t already. She’s lived here for forty years, long before their parents were murdered.”
“My parents, too,” he pointed out under his breath.
“Right, sorry.” Sylvie moved down the stocking line. “Magdalena is a woman Roni freed from a human trafficker last spring. She lives here permanently now and also goes by the name Maddie. She helps Roni run a refuge here for women who’ve been trafficked, which leads to the next two names. Angela and Sarah were brought here after their captor was arrested. They’re in protective custody while he’s being prosecuted for his crimes.”
