Freezing Point

by Elizabeth Goddard

  She was considering this when Jesse pressed his lips against hers, and lingered.

  He eased away. “The competition begins tomorrow. Be at my studio bright and early.”

  After he was gone, Casey set the alarm, bolted the doors, and walked through the house one more time, checking all the window locks before getting ready for bed. Climbing under the covers, she held her new TracFone in her hand, wanting to call Meg, but knowing she shouldn’t. Not with this new number.

  It was going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Where are you, Casey?

  “You’ll be glad when this is over, huh, Jesse?” Miguel asked, pressing the cellophane into place as they wrapped the pieces of Jesse’s sculptures.

  “You aren’t kidding.” Jesse blew out a big breath. Miguel didn’t even know the half of it. Jesse was working double duty. No—make that triple duty. “I appreciate you helping out on such short notice.”

  Ricky hadn’t come in this morning but called to say he had a stomach virus. Jesse couldn’t do this alone and asked Miguel for help. That could work out in his favor. Time spent with Miguel was time spent getting deeper into this operation.

  Last night, Eric had informed Jesse that Casey was at the movies with a friend. Good for her. Though she needed to remain alert to her surroundings, the woman could use some downtime or she was going to break.

  While she was at the movies, Jesse had stayed at the studio and cut his creations into smaller segments for easier transport. They would need reassembling at the hotel where the competition was to take place.

  Earlier this morning, Miguel had come in to help him wrap the pieces into insulated blankets and shrink wrap, though with refrigerated trucks, the measure was mostly precautionary. He didn’t want to take any chances where the competition was concerned.

  Finishing up the task, Jesse wheeled out the carts they needed to haul the sculptures to the loading dock. “I’ve got to load my equipment, too.”

  “You gotta cut ice while you’re there?”

  “Yeah, it’s part of the competition.” Jesse lifted the ice—part of a large three-hundred-pound sculpture—onto the cart.

  Miguel squeezed his shoulder. “I think you got hired on at the wrong time.”

  Fortunately, Jesse had his back to Miguel. Did Miguel suspect something? “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s a lot of extra work. You seem a little stressed, that’s all. But you’re definitely a better fit than the last guy.”

  Jesse sucked in a breath. What was Miguel getting at? While they each rolled a cart out of the studio and down the corridor, Jesse grew more concerned over Casey’s whereabouts. She should have been at the studio much earlier, but maybe she ended up going to the newspaper first for the morning meetings—except today’s activities would be the culmination of all her work on the ice-sculpting article.

  That was important to her. She should be here now.

  Eric could be trusted to watch her. Jesse attempted to ignore his concerns.

  He glanced at his watch, shoving the cart ahead of Miguel.

  “You expecting your reporter friend?” Miguel asked.

  That Miguel could practically read his mind on most days unnerved Jesse. He detected the teasing in his voice, but he still bristled at the question. “Yes. She should have been here earlier this morning. Once the competition is over, she’s done with her story here.”

  Miguel sighed. “If you say so.”

  What did that mean?

  “I say so,” Jesse said, a little harshly, but he couldn’t help his rising fear that Casey would end up hurt or, worse, murdered. And Jesse would be the cause. He was in the same position again, having to stand idly by and watch someone get hurt to keep from blowing his cover. If there was any way he could keep that from happening again, he would. He had no way of knowing yet what the cost would be.

  Any heinous or capital crime he’d stop if he couldn’t alert other agents to stop it in time. But hoped things wouldn’t come to that.

  He was so close to shutting down this ring and gaining back his reputation in the division. He shoved his cart through the exit and onto the loading dock and held the door open for Miguel.

  She could be playing you. Miguel’s words came back to him. She could be looking for another story, he’d said. That’s exactly what Jesse had suspected in the beginning.

  But he couldn’t bring himself to believe that about Casey. The woman was too caught up in her own nightmare to give a second thought about what was going on behind the scenes at the ice company.

  What Casey didn’t know was that Jesse had called in a favor—an agent in Oregon was keeping tabs on Will Tannin.

  Nevertheless, Jesse knew he was running out of time.

  And right now, so was Casey. He’d stalled for her this morning, but she should have been at the studio an hour ago.

  “You ready to roll?” Carlos asked as he hopped onto the ledge next to where the truck was backed up.

  Jesse nodded. The guy had lost his snarl since seeing Jesse’s handling of the parking-lot stray. Jesse sensed he’d gained a measure of respect from Carlos, but the guy still harbored mistrust. He wondered if Miguel had shared with Carlos the news that Jesse would be making special deliveries.

  Miguel helped Jesse lift the wrapped ice-sculpture segments from the cart and into the cold truck and passed them on to Carlos, who stood inside the trailer. Suddenly, Carlos stiffened.

  Dread ran up Jesse’s spine. He turned to see Casey standing next to the ice sculptures.

  When she saw Jesse, she offered a weak smile. “Sorry, I’m late.”

  “No problem.” He took a leap from the back of the truck onto the loading dock platform. He’d warned her about the loading dock. Yet, there she stood. His fault. “But you missed an important part of the process.”

  Casey scratched her cheek. “Did I?”

  She looked from Miguel and Carlos back to Jesse. Jesse would need a chain saw to slice through the thick, cold tension between Carlos and Casey.

  He tugged on her arm. “Let’s get you into the cab of the truck.”

  “Uh, no. I thought I’d take my car. That way I can leave when I need to.”

  Jesse frowned. He’d planned for her to stay with him all day. Eric wouldn’t be around that afternoon, having been called away on another assignment.

  Jesse was it.

  “Well, go ahead then. You can meet me at the hotel,” he said.

  He needed to get Casey out of there pronto. Did she realize that she was telegraphing all over the place with her continual icy glances at Carlos? Something had happened between the two of them.

  What was it?

  Miguel reached up and tugged on the trailer door, rolling it down. “Your girlfriend won’t be hanging around here much after the competition is over, will she?” Miguel asked, his gaze sliding to Carlos.

  Thank you, Miguel. “No, once she’s done with this story, she’ll be moving to another one she’s already working on,” Jesse added, just to be sure Carlos caught the information.

  Jesse dug in his pocket for the keys—he’d backed the truck up earlier that morning—while trying to ignore how dark Carlos’s expression had grown.

  “Jesse, the keys are in the truck,” Miguel said, squeezing his shoulder.

  The guy was trying to help. And here Jesse was, with every intention of destroying the man’s life, albeit it a criminal life.

  * * *

  At the hotel, Casey stood inside the roped-off display area where Jesse and Miguel had carted his sculptures along with several blocks of clear ice prepared ahead of time for the competition. The hotel convention center brimmed with sculptors from around the country—and around the world, Casey guessed—eager for a chance to make their sculptures famous.

  The room was definitely chilly, but Casey was becoming skilled at dressing for ice sculpting.

  Standing back, she took photographs of Jesse at work, using the camera Danny had loaned her f
or the day. Should she become officially permanent, she could expense a new one of her own. Or, go back to Oregon and grab the one from her apartment there. The thought brought to mind Jesse’s comment last night. You’ll have to decide if you’re going back to your old life in Oregon.

  He was right. If the time ever came when Tannin’s threats were a thing of the past—no, it was when, not if—then she’d have to decide what to do with her life. Would she go back to her home in the Pacific Northwest? That seemed the logical answer. But what about the life she was beginning to carve out for herself here? She was becoming accustomed to the climate and beautiful beaches. And what about Jesse and her growing feelings for him?

  She focused the lens on Miguel, zooming in, and suddenly, he looked up from smoothing out a section of ice that he and Jesse had pushed together and frowned at her. A hand covered the lens and tugged the camera downward.

  Jesse. “What are you—?”

  “Miguel doesn’t like his picture taken,” Jesse said, and shrugged. “It’s a weird family thing.”

  “Whatever that means,” Casey said under her breath. She pulled up the digital images she’d just taken. Would Jesse make her delete them?

  “It means wait until he’s gone, or take pictures without him.” Though Jesse winked at her, she could hear the strain in his voice, see the tension in his jaw.

  She watched in amazement as they assembled the cut segments of the ice sculptures that Jesse had created. Had he really done them himself? Or had Ricky helped? Jesse also assembled a system to pump out the melting water. She might have to see where all that wastewater—if that’s what you could call melting ice—ended up. Now that would be the less glamorous part of her story.

  “You need me for anything else?” Miguel asked Jesse, but he was looking at Casey.

  She wasn’t sure she trusted him, but he seemed to like Jesse, she decided, so there had to be something good about him.

  “No, Miguel. Thanks for your help.” Jesse stuck out his hand and the two shook. Miguel squeezed Jesse’s shoulder.

  He strolled away, disappearing behind other displays and sculptors preparing for the day. Finally, Casey was alone with Jesse—well, except for a small crowd gathering for the competition. Jesse squeezed her hand, then released it to begin assembling tools on a long table—chain saw, large chisels, drill bits and hand saws.

  “Miguel seems like a nice guy,” Casey said, “but not so much the other one.”

  Jesse stiffened. “Yeah, I noticed the tension between you two. You’ve met him before?”

  “You could say that,” she said, and lifted her camera to snap a shot of Jesse.

  He stopped working completely and frowned at her. “You want to explain?”

  “I saw him once before, scratch that, make it twice,” she said, then gazed around the neighboring displays, looking for another good angle.

  When she swung her gaze back to Jesse he was staring at her.

  He swiped the back of his gloved hand over his forehead. “I’m listening.”

  How could he be sweating in this chill? “That first day I met you—” when you were acting so strange “—I ran into him first, only he was on the phone and didn’t like that I had interrupted his conversation.”

  Jesse visibly paled. “How do you know?” he asked, and began stuffing boxes under the table.

  Casey could see that he cared about her answer but was trying to look like he didn’t. “The dirty look he gave me. Just like he gave me today. And then the second time, he was watching me from the corner of the warehouse as I drove away. Look, Jesse, what’s going on?”

  Jesse scanned the crowd behind her as he took a step toward her and pecked her on the forehead. “Nothing.”

  “Then what—”

  He tugged her to him and whispered in her ear. “Any more phone calls from Tannin?”

  At his reminder, Casey frowned. She shook her head.

  “Good. Now, I have to get busy. And so do you.”

  It was going to be a long, cold day. Jesse tugged on his cap and winked.

  That was more like it. When he looked at her like that she felt like all was well with the world. It wasn’t, she knew—there was Tannin to think about, but she had Jesse now.

  Jesse the sculptor. Jesse…her protector.

  She tugged her recorder from her pocket, prepared to talk her way through today’s event and transcribe later, though with the noise, maybe that idea wasn’t such a good one.

  An icicle of doubt threatened her—could Jesse really keep her safe?

  His promised protection was all she had, and at least for the moment, it was enough to keep her sane.

  Taking a step over the rope that marked off Jesse’s work area, Casey strolled across the aisle to snap another photograph of him. He looked adorable in his snug cap, gloves and sweatshirt he seemed to prefer. Amazing he could stay warm while working in his freezer room in only his hoodie.

  The downside of today’s competition was that her time interviewing Jesse and following him for this article would soon end. Would he still be there for her after that? Casey sighed, hating that her future looked so hazy, impenetrable even—sort of like the white ice Jesse used in some of today’s carvings.

  How she wished her future were clear.

  Someone bumped into her from the side, startling her from her musings. Around her, the crowd had doubled in size and the sculptors were busy, concentrating on their work. Casey had done some research ahead of time and knew the variety of backgrounds represented here, including a few master chefs. She’d like to get an interview with one of the judges, as well. The winner of today’s competition would get fifteen thousand dollars cash, five thousand dollars in prizes, and an appearance on a popular culinary television show.

  She imagined winning or even being a finalist in this competition could bring her uncle’s company more business, but what, besides money, would it bring to Jesse personally?

  Validation as an artist? Or did he even care about things like that? There was so much about him she didn’t know.

  A small sigh escaped. What would it be like to be married to a dreamy artistic type like Jesse? A guy with cold hands but a warm heart, as the saying went.

  What in the world was she thinking? Casey groused that her thoughts had traveled to marriage. It was soon, much too soon, especially with her future so unclear.

  She didn’t even know the guy. Not really. She shoved thoughts of a relationship with Jesse to the back of her mind. She had a job to do. There were so many questions she’d failed to ask because the strain of Will Tannin’s interference had hampered her skills as a reporter. She needed to remedy that, and today could be the day.

  Enthralled with the artistry surrounding her, Casey strolled down the marked-off aisles and took snapshot after snapshot of sculptors using the tools of the trade. She’d read about an entire restaurant created out of ice. What an incredible medium ice was.

  Zooming out with her camera lens, she saw someone…

  The face looked eerily familiar, but she lost him behind a towering ice sculpture. Casey lowered the camera and searched the room.

  There.

  She lifted the camera and zoomed in, finding him again. Alarm shivered down her spine.

  There was no doubt where she’d seen him before. He was the guy in the parking lot that night.

  His eyes…

  She could never forget those eyes, even if she’d only seen their malicious stare for an instant. And they stared at her now.

  Casey sagged, dropping the camera to her side. And just when she was beginning to relax, if only a little.

  She turned to find her way back to Jesse through the maze of sculptures, not entirely sure which way she had walked, given she’d been completely mesmerized by the artistry. The crowd seemed to thicken around her, and in her rush to be near Jesse, it felt as though people intentionally bumped against her or shoved her back.

  Her heart drummed. Her knees seemed to have a mind of their own,
growing weaker by the second. Casey’s terror was now becoming familiar, the same terror that Tannin had injected her with the last time she’d seen him.

  Panic strangled her airway.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jesse pressed the chain saw against the ice, feeling the power in his hands as the machine pulverized the frozen water, spraying powder behind him. He suspected the pluming ice enthralled the crowd the most, especially the kids.

  The chain saw carved the ice, slicing into the cold formless block, following Jesse’s carefully drawn guidelines for the sleek Pharaoh Hound. He planned for two resting at Ramses’s throne, which he’d created at his studio and assembled here.

  A small crowd had grown around him, pressing in against the ropes. While he concentrated on the ice, he was keenly aware that Casey wasn’t anywhere in his peripheral vision, taking snapshots like she was supposed to be.

  Jesse wanted to kick himself for asking her if Tannin had called her again, but her questions about Carlos were absolutely not in anyone’s best interest—especially not hers.

  Idiot! As soon as she’d entered his life, his handling of this assignment was clunky at best.

  Why had he promised her he would protect her? He wanted to—God knew he wanted to be there for her. But to make the promise so that she would feel protected? He took out his ire on the ice and slipped, missing the line completely, the chain saw slicing through an entire section of the block.

  Gasps rose around him.

  The chunk of ice crashed to the floor and broke into two pieces.

  Great. Just…great. He kept a straight face, as if he’d cut the hunk from the ice on purpose.

  Jesse powered down the chain saw and placed it on the table next to him. He leaned forward on his knees and caught his breath. He had no idea if his following recognized his faux pas. The crazy part was he wondered why he even cared?

  He wasn’t an ice sculptor. Not really. Yes, he knew the trade, but he was an undercover agent who was hung up on a reporter who was in over her head without even trying. Since he stopped working, the gathering began to disperse if only slightly.