Sabotaged

  The purr of a motor sounded in the distance, and his heart dropped.

  “One of the SAR team?” Kirra said with hope.

  He prayed so, but chances were . . .

  He yanked her back toward the trees, moving in a diagonal toward the icy-covered rocks cresting the edge of the woods. It was a dangerous maze to maneuver but would hide their footprints. Unfortunately the ones on the trail were still visible despite the heavily falling snow.

  Kirra bit back a grunt, clearly favoring her ankle, but kept up with his pace.

  Reef nestled them behind the copse of trees.

  “You think it’s him?” Kirra whispered as the snowmobile pulled into view.

  “I pray not.”

  A second snowmobile came into view, both with single riders.

  Reef’s chest tightened. It had to be their attacker, and he’d brought a friend.

  5

  Reef signaled Kirra to remain still. The snowmobiles pulled idle.

  “Why’d you stop, Bruce?” Irritation edged the second snowmobile driver’s voice. Their attacker—he recognized the voice.

  “I thought I saw movement.” The other man’s gaze swept over the tree line.

  Reef pressed his back firmly against the tree, praying, Please, Lord, don’t let them see us. Mask us with this storm. Hide us and protect us.

  “It was probably a moose,” their attacker said.

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “What I don’t know is why we’re even still out here. I told you there’s no way they survived the night.”

  “I’m being thorough. Something you don’t seem to grasp.”

  Their attacker stiffened. “Excuse me?”

  “If you had been thorough, they would have been dead.”

  “They are dead!”

  “Show me their bodies.”

  “I hit the man.”

  “And the girl?”

  “Please, like she could survive out here, on her own, with no equipment. She probably holed up someplace and died.”

  “He said to make sure they aren’t going to be a problem, and that’s what I’m doing.”

  “Fine, but I’m moving on. It’s not my responsibility to traipse all over this frozen wasteland looking for two dead people.”

  “It was your responsibility to make sure Frank didn’t tell them anything. If he did and they managed to survive, our entire plan could be compromised.”

  “Our plan?”

  “Yes. Ours. It belongs to all of us.”

  “Fine. Then, let’s get back to it instead of chasing after ghosts.”

  Bruce scanned the tree line once again, then climbed off his snowmobile, moving toward where Reef and Kirra had broken through the snow.

  Their attacker rose up in his seat. “What now?”

  “Something came through here.”

  “Like I said, probably a moose. Look, I’ve had enough of this. I’m heading back in. You do what you want.” He took off, leaving a spray of snow flying in his wake.

  Bruce cussed and returned to his snowmobile. He started the engine and sped off in the direction of the Rainy Pass checkpoint.

  Reef slumped against the tree, relief and apprehension streaming through him. “Thank you, Lord.” He’d masked and sheltered them. He prayed God would continue to do so as they worked their way back to the checkpoint.

  What plan was the man referencing? And where were they headed? The checkpoint? Surely they wouldn’t show their faces there. Reef hadn’t seen much of them, with their hoods and ski masks on. But the first man’s voice—the one who’d shot him—that he’d definitely recognize.

  Kirra peered around the tree. “We should get moving. I think we’re safe to stick to the trail now.”

  “I think you’re right.” No way they’d catch up with the men on snowmobiles.

  Wind whistled through the trees, growing in strength as Kirra’s body heat slipped away. It was bone-chillingly cold. There was no warmth left in her, but she kept moving. Movement was essential to keep the blood flowing. Frostbite was definitely setting in. She wasn’t feeling much pain from her sprain, but she didn’t know if that was because it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared or because her ankle was freezing.

  She’d spent the day trying to forget the feel of Reef’s lips on hers, but the intense memory still replayed through her mind. She’d thought it’d been a dream until she licked her lips and tasted him.

  He hadn’t brought it up. Maybe he’d thought it a dream too, maybe he didn’t remember, or maybe he just didn’t care. Whatever the reason for his silence on the matter, she was thankful. It had been a mistake. A wonderful mistake, but a mistake all the same.

  When she’d learned a couple years back that Meg was dating Reef, jealousy had reared its ugly head. It was ridiculous. He had never been hers, nor would he ever be. But the jealousy had tugged all the same. The two had first met when Meg visited Yancey the summer between Reef and Kirra’s junior and senior year of high school. How they’d managed to meet up years later in Anchorage, she didn’t know, but it wasn’t worth asking. He owed her no answers.

  She exhaled. Back then she’d wondered what it felt like to touch Reef’s body, his lips. Now she knew, and it was every bit as wonderful as she’d imagined. More so. But it was still ridiculous. Reef McKenna fell for girls like her cousin Meg, not her.

  Meg. Kirra’s heart winced. What was her cousin enduring right now while they moved like snails back to Rainy Pass? If only she could will her legs to move faster. But all it seemed she could focus on was that heady kiss. Why did everything turn sideways when she was around Reef?

  She forced herself to shake off the delicious yet unnerving thoughts and turned her attention to the sky overhead. What minimal light there was in the endless gray blanketing the sky was vanishing. It’d be night soon, and based on the last landmark they passed—the trail split at Wallow’s Creek—they still had a few miles to go.

  She lumbered on. Her right foot caught on something, and she pitched forward as pain ricocheted up her leg.

  “Kirra!” Reef’s strong arms kept her from colliding with the ground once again.

  She tried to fight the weariness engulfing her, but it was too much. She was holding him back. He could have been to the shelter by now, and he was the one with a gunshot graze. It was ridiculous. “You go on. I’m holding you back.”

  “You’re crazy if you think I’d leave you out here.”

  “You can send help back for me after you reach the shelter.” After he was safe.

  “I’m not leaving you out here.” He bent over her, slipping his arms beneath her, and hefted her up.

  Was he crazy? “What are you doing?”

  “Carrying you.”

  “You’ve been shot, and you’re carrying me?”

  “It was a flesh wound, Kirra. You said it yourself—the bullet just grazed me. I’m fine. Besides, the cold numbs the pain. I haven’t felt anything in hours.”

  Great. So they’d both die of frostbite and hypothermia.

  “You can’t carry me.”

  He smiled, the ice cracking around his lips. “I already am.”

  “Reef . . .”

  “We don’t have far to go. I’ll be fine.”

  “We’ve still got a couple miles.”

  He tightened his hold. “Is that all?”

  The man was crazy.

  Kirra prayed the men weren’t watching this last portion of the trail, but she feared otherwise.

  “I’m going to take us off trail for this last part,” Reef said. “Not far, but—”

  “The men might be watching from near the checkpoint.” She finished his thought, or rather he’d finished hers.

  Reef nodded.

  The wind whipped hard, slashing against Kirra’s back as they moved from the trail. Fighting her instincts, she pressed tight against Reef’s body, letting him warm her, and positioning her back to take the brunt of the wind.

  Please, Father, let us make it. I’ve ne
ver been this cold.

  “Gage.” Darcy’s hand rested over his on the gearshift. “We need to head in.”

  “We’ve got a little while longer.”

  “It’s almost dark, and you’re heading away from the shelter.”

  “Just one more sweep.”

  “Ben’s already let us sweep way longer than he originally agreed to.” Night and another storm were closing in. The other communication and SAR volunteers had already moved on to Rohn to get ahead of it, leaving them on sweeper duty, but they were seriously pushing the limits. Continuing the search with the burgeoning conditions was beyond dangerous, but this was his brother’s and Kirra’s lives at stake.

  Gage increased the throttle.

  “Maybe we’re going about this wrong,” Darcy yelled over the roar of the engine.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve been sweeping the trail.”

  “Right?”

  “Maybe they aren’t sticking to the trail.”

  “Why wouldn’t they be on the trail?”

  “Why would they leave their snowmobile?”

  “Because the spark plugs were missing.”

  “Which brings us to ask, who would take their spark plugs while they were away from the snowmobile?”

  “We can ask them that when we find them.” He’d been wondering the very same thing, but he had to remain focused. Finding his brother and Kirra was what mattered. Whatever occurred with the snowmobile and why his brother and Kirra weren’t with it was troubling, but hashing and rehashing the possibilities with no way of knowing the answers would be of zero help in locating them.

  “I still think we should be looking for them off trail,” Darcy said.

  “No air force pilot is going to fly in this storm. Not until it eases some.”

  “Then we search. Direct our headlights or the floodlight off trail.”

  Not a bad idea. “Definitely worth a shot.”

  An hour later he approached the edge of Rainy Pass. He’d kept Darcy out too long. It was time to drop her off and head back out, regardless of the danger. He couldn’t in good conscience stay warm in the shelter when his brother and Kirra were out there.

  Gage approached the checkpoint from the west, slowing along the last tree line leading in. Darcy swung the floodlight she’d brought across the snowy expanse.

  “Wait!” she hollered.

  He pulled to a stop.

  “What?” He scanned the ridge.

  “Reef?” she hollered.

  “Darcy?”

  Relief swarmed Gage at the sound of his younger brother’s voice.

  Reef’s hunched form stepped into the light. He was carrying Kirra. What had happened?

  Back at the Rainy Pass station, Reef settled into the chair by the wood stove, but only after he’d made sure Kirra was being seen to. He feared the lingering effects of frostbite.

  Gage hunkered down beside him, handing him a steaming mug of broth. “Here. Drink this.”

  Reef clasped his cold fingers around the warm ceramic. “Thanks.”

  “So you care to explain what’s going on? Why were you out there? And, why weren’t you on the trail?”

  “He was still looking for us. Off trail seemed safest.”

  Gage frowned. “Who was looking for you?”

  Reef explained all that had happened—their encounter with Kirra’s uncle Frank, his cryptic message, the man with the gun, the sabotaged snowmobile—Gage had told them the spark plugs were missing—and the second man helping track them today.

  “What do the men want with Meg and Frank?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what Kirra and I have to find out.”

  A slight smile tugged at Gage’s worried face.

  Reef arched a brow. “What?”

  Gage shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Reef considered prodding but decided it was probably safer to let it go. He knew that look, knew it had to do with Gage’s observation of him and Kirra—and he wasn’t ready to go there. He had no idea what was going on with them. Well, he knew he had feelings for her, but when it came to her, he doubted she felt the same, or felt anything other than irritation for him. But that kiss . . . The memory of it had been the only thing keeping him warm in the ferocious elements.

  Kirra sat back, letting Darcy pull off her socks. She feared what she would find. Her toes were red with blue tips and swollen, indicative of at least second-degree frostbite. The digits felt hard and frozen.

  Darcy swallowed. “Let’s get these in some warm water.” She turned to the propane stove with water warming on it, and carried the kettle over to a large basin she had placed on the floor beside Kirra. “You’re lucky,” she said, slowly lowering Kirra’s feet into the warm water. “It looks like it’s only second degree. You should heal rather quickly.”

  Kirra winced as her frosted skin made contact with the warm water—electric-like currents pulsating her feet as the heat engulfed them.

  “I’d say you were minutes away from the next degree of frostbite.”

  And possibly permanent damage. Kirra swallowed. If Reef hadn’t insisted on carrying her, on not leaving her behind, at best she would have lost some toes—at worst she could have lost her life. Now she’d be okay and it was all thanks to Reef. “How is he?” She looked toward the door where Reef was receiving treatment on the other side.

  “Gage said he’ll be fine. They are treating him with antibiotics just in case and gave him a tetanus shot.” She poured more water in the basin, fully submerging Kirra’s feet, which were finally adjusting to the warmth of the water, the cold slowly fading away. “You did a great job taking care of him, Kirra.”

  “He did the same for me.” Why was it so hard to simply acknowledge the emotions she’d felt while tending to Reef—the compassion that filled her at the sight of his wound and her overwhelming desire to help him? It was the first time in two years she’d felt compassion for a man, felt anything other than wariness.

  “What happened out there?” Darcy asked, turning to the stove to bring Kirra a warm cup of broth.

  Kirra swallowed, wondering what Reef was telling Gage. Or rather, how much he was telling Gage. She carefully weighed how much she could trust Darcy not to tell Landon or Jake, and went the safe route. “My uncle Frank never made it to this checkpoint.”

  Darcy handed her an owl mug—two wide eyes staring her down. The aroma of rich, buttery chicken broth swirled beneath her nose.

  “We know that much,” Darcy said.

  Kirra took a sip, buying time before she responded. The warm liquid coated her throat, spreading heat across her chest. So good.

  “Kirra?” Darcy prodded when she’d finished her sip.

  She swallowed, the motion less painful now. “I’d like to talk to Reef.”

  Darcy eyed her appraisingly. “Okay.”

  “Could you get him for me?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Okay.” Darcy disappeared through the doorway. Kirra heard murmuring and movement, and then Reef lumbered through the door, a blanket draped over his shoulders, a mug in his hand. No doubt filled with the same rich chicken broth.

  He smiled, warming her more than the broth. “Hey there.”

  She shifted her hair behind her ear, remembering the feel of his soft lips on hers and glanced down as heat rushed to her cheeks. “Hey.”

  “What’s up?” He sat down beside her. “Darcy said you wanted to talk?”

  She looked past him at the open doorway, at Darcy standing beside Gage in the front room—Gage’s arm wrapped about Darcy’s slender waist, both of their eyes fixed on her and Reef. “What did you tell him?”

  “The truth.”

  Her heart plummeted. “How could you?”

  “I couldn’t lie to my brother.”

  “And how long do you think it’ll take him to call Landon?”

  “He promised he wouldn’t. Not unless we told him otherwis
e.”

  She frowned. “What? Why would he do that?”

  “Because I asked him to.”

  He’d do that for her? “But I thought . . . ?”

  “I know how much finding Meg means to you, and if you’re not willing to let Landon and Jake in on it, I’m not going to force you.”

  “But you think I should?” Frank had said no cops. Landon Grainger, Reef’s brother-in-law, was sheriff of Yancey and Jake Cavanaugh his deputy. Both amazing cops, but Frank had said . . .

  “I think they could be of great help, even if they are only involved as a resource.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean . . . as a resource?”

  “Gage had a great idea. He said we could call them, and whichever one of them is available can—with one of my sisters in tow, no doubt—take over our responsibilities in the race. That way they could be close, could offer advice and assistance, but in a way that’s not likely to draw a lot of attention.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean ‘take over our responsibilities’?”

  “Well, I assumed you wanted to get going on our search right away. That likely means we will be stepping away from our volunteer duties.”

  Kirra closed her eyes and nodded. “I see what you mean.”

  Reef put his hand on hers. “I’m thinking our first step is to track Meg by her last-known whereabouts, which means the race start, if she was there.”

  “She wasn’t, which I thought was odd. She’s always there to wish Frank good luck, but now that she’s transferred to U of A, Fairbanks, from the community college, her schedule is tighter and she’s farther away, so I just assumed she wasn’t able to make it down.”

  “And we can’t confirm that without talking to Frank.”

  “Which means tracking him down . . .”

  “Or talking to Meg’s friends or roommate on campus.”

  Campus? Her stomach flipped. “I imagine her roommate, Ashley, would know if Meg had headed to the race start or not. They’re pretty tight. I’ll give her a call.”

  “You’d probably get more information if you talk to her in person,” Darcy said from the doorway.

  Gage stood behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder. How long had they been listening?