The private chalet was the stuff only the rich and famous usually experience. He ogled one magnificent aspect after the other. The floor to ceiling windows that took in the mountain ranges. The enormous bed. The cozy fire. And, to top it all off, their private hot tub had a fantastic view.
Miranda finished up the tour by presenting them with a box of what looked like handmade chocolates and a bottle of Armand De Brignac Brut champagne. The eye-catching bottle, with an ace of spades embossed into the glass, convinced him it was expensive. But with the amount Amber had probably paid for this accommodation, this welcome gift was justified.
Once Miranda said goodbye and shut the door, Oliver held the champagne toward Amber. “Hold this.”
A second after she clasped it, he swept her into his arms and she giggled as he carried her to the bed. “Can you believe this place? I think I’m dreaming.”
He placed her on the covers and took a moment to take in her smile. For the first time in his life, he was in love. Amber was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. A woman who deserved the world. From what he’d seen so far, she could afford the world too—he just hoped she had a place in it for him, permanently.
After a quick glance at the bedside clock, he met her gaze. “We have three hours to fill. I say we get nude, have a little play, then slip into the hot tub with the bubbles and chocolates.”
She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. He took that as a yes, and within a minute they were naked. He cupped her breast and they resumed kissing, but this kiss wasn’t constrained. It was filled with a greed for each other, heated and extraordinary. As their tongues dueled, he squeezed her breast, playing with the full weight of her bosom and tweaking her nipple until the bud hardened beneath his touch. She moaned, and when he moaned too she drove her fingers through his hair and tugged a handful, pulling him down to her.
She tasted divine, and her delicate scent that he’d come to love drove him wild.
He fed his hand between her legs and drove his finger into her hot zone. Amber gasped, and as she tilted her head back he watched the expressions of carnal bliss dance across her face until he brought her to climax. It was an erotic show that had his manhood throbbing like a beast.
Amber opened her eyes, and the desire burning in them made his flesh sizzle and his body set to self-combust. She grabbed his shoulders, and he allowed her to roll him over. Amber straddled him, and as he cupped her breasts, she used her hand to guide him into her. Her heat swathed him like a clenched fist as she lowered herself onto him.
When she opened her eyes, her pupils where huge and the fire he saw in them took his already thumping libido to raging. She placed her hands on his chest, and with her eyes locked on his she rose up, taking him to the very edge, and then lowered again. The sensations were an exquisite overload.
She glided up and down, over and over, and a tidal wave of pleasure plundered him, building an orgasm of mammoth proportions. He didn’t want to stop. He wanted this to last all night, every night, for ever and ever.
Her pace increased. Every muscle in his body stiffened. He gritted his teeth and tried to hold back as long as possible. With each plunge he went deep inside. Every thrust was hard and complete, and she rode each one to its full glory.
Amber cried out, and his awareness of her hot juices tipped him over the edge. Unable to hold back a moment more, he dug his fingers into her hips and released a primal groan as she rode out his final thrusts.
She fell forward, fashioning their sweat-slicked flesh together, and he closed his eyes and trailed his hands up and down her back, barely noticing the scar below her left shoulder blade.
When their breathing returned to normal, she pushed up from his chest. “Ready for the spa?”
“Sure am.”
She slid off him, and he admired her sexy butt as she walked toward the bathroom. Before she’d revealed her secrets, she’d made every attempt to hide as much of her flesh as possible. But now, it was like she was making up for lost time. Maybe it was fabulous to be free again. He wasn’t complaining—he’d be happy to look at her naked every moment of the day. Even with all the scars. They may have been brutal reminders of what she’d been through, but they were also proof of what a survivor she was, and that only made him love her more.
The spa was as divine as the champagne and chocolate, and it was with reluctance that he noted they were running out of time. It was seven thirty when they climbed from the hot tub and dressed again.
Holding hands, they made their way back to the main lodge and settled into a leather chesterfield sofa by the fireplace. They ordered drinks from the waitress, who greeted them the second they sat, and Chancy joined them five minutes later.
“Hey guys, you settled into your cabin okay?”
“Yes, thanks. Very nice,” Oliver said.
“Great. Well, enjoy it; after tomorrow morning it won’t be so luxurious. Ah, here they are.” He stood to wave over a couple of men who’d entered the lounge. “Holly, Oliver, I’d like you to meet Regi and Pope.”
Oliver hid his surprise over their appearances by offering to shake hands.
They did, and then Chancy indicated for the newcomers to sit. “How about you explain to each other what you want to achieve with this hike up the mountain? Regi, want to start?”
Regi cleared his throat and made no attempt to hide his attention on Holly. Oliver had seen people look at her scar before—usually they tried to be discreet. Not this guy; he was practically gawking at it. “I… We”—he indicated to Pope—“work for Heathcote Insurance, and the plane wreck they found up there has an outstanding claim. We need to take a few photos for the file.”
Oliver had always prided himself on his ability to read people, and he had a niggling impression that the men opposite him weren’t being truthful. Regi looked like he was about eighteen years old—way too young to be doing what he was doing. And Pope looked like he’d be just as comfortable if they’d said they were robbing a bank.
As Holly told them about their plans to retrieve the bodies of Milton and Kane, neither man showed any emotion. Regi continued to stare at Holly, but Oliver felt that it was no longer just inquisitiveness—it was something else. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but for some reason, he had the impression Regi loathed her.
After the introductions were over, Chancy shifted in his seat. “Right, have a decent breakfast tomorrow, ’cause we’re on packet meals after that. You’ve timed it well; we had a huge dump of snow last week, but the prediction for the next four days is perfect. You got all your equipment?”
Both Holly and Oliver nodded. “We think so.”
“Crampons? Headlamps? How much rope?”
Oliver relayed what they’d brought, and Chancy confirmed with a curt nod.
“Right, you won’t need your skis; we’ll be walking the whole way.” He turned to the other men. “And you two?”
Regi and Pope looked to each other. “We’ll need to rent everything.”
“Okay, you boys can come with me to the equipment room.” He pointed at Oliver. “Meet me with your gear at reception at seven in the morning. Pack light, ’cause whatever you take, you’ll be lugging for four days. We can put some gear on the body sled and take turns dragging it.”
Pope grunted, and everybody turned to him.
“You got a comment, Pope?” Chancy looked ready to start a fight.
Pope squared off to Chancy, then clenched and unclenched his fists. “No.”
“Good.” Chancy turned back to the group. “Anyone have any questions?”
When no one answered, they all stood simultaneously.
Oliver clutched Holly’s hand. “See you all in the morning.”
“Night,” Regi said, but Pope remained mute.
Oliver and Holly returned to their room, and the second they were inside he turned to her. “It’s
not too late to pull out.”
“I knew you were going to say that. I’m not quitting now.”
He cocked his head. “I knew you’d say that.”
“So why’d you ask?”
“Because I had to. Didn’t those guys seem weird to you?”
“Yes. I don’t believe that insurance story one bit. I think they’re looking for the cash.”
“Cash?”
“Yes. Remember Angelique’s husband handed over half a million dollars’ ransom money, and it’s never been found.”
“Oh, that’s right. They must think it’s in the plane.”
“Maybe.” Her lips formed a thin smile. “But it’s not.”
“It’s not?”
“No. I bet it’s in the suitcase that’s with Angel and Fred in the crevasse.”
Chapter 23
Holly and Oliver adhered to Chancy’s suggestion and ordered breakfast in their cabin: scrambled eggs, mushrooms, and beans for her, and the same for Oliver, but with toast and bacon—lots of bacon. While they ate, she applied sunscreen to her face and double-checked the equipment she and Oliver planned to take.
The staff on the mountaineering course must’ve thought all their Christmases had come at once when she’d purchased all her gear from them at the start of the program. Despite Oliver’s objections, she’d insisted on buying all his equipment too, and because she demanded the best and the lightest in weight, it wasn’t cheap. But she didn’t care. Even though it was still hard to believe, money wasn’t something she had to worry about.
Their base clothing and insulated jackets and pants were the best money could buy too. She was pretty certain the quality of her clothing had been a major factor in saving her when she’d fallen into that crevasse. Milton had insisted that she have the best, and it was a good thing he did or she probably would’ve frozen to death. Ironically, he’d bought her a heated blanket for the alpine picnic as a joke, and fortunately she’d placed it inside her jacket prior to takeoff. That blanket had been integral to her survival too.
Maybe she’d become superstitious, because she’d bought nearly exactly the same equipment this time and, like last time, she’d shoved a safety blanket inside her jacket and insisted that Oliver did too. To keep her pack’s weight down, she intended to wear the same clothes for the entire trek; her underpants were the only change of clothing she needed.
She lifted her pack and guessed it to be just fifteen or so pounds.
“You good? I can take some—” Oliver reached for her pack.
“I’m fine, how about you?” She had absolutely no intention of shirking her responsibilities.
“I’m good to go.”
As much as she’d been initially shocked at Oliver’s insistence on going with her, she was now truly grateful that he was. Especially after seeing their travel partners. She hadn’t wanted to mention it to Oliver, but there was something hauntingly familiar about Regi that unsettled her, and Pope, well he just looked like trouble.
On keeping with schedule, they kissed their luxurious lodgings goodbye and headed toward reception with twenty minutes to spare. Her Alpine clothing was too warm for the indoors and she couldn’t wait to get into the freezing temperature outside.
Reception offered a view of the chopper landing pad, and Chancy was already there. In his hands was a body stretcher. It was an unnecessary piece of equipment, but she couldn’t risk advising Chancy of her true plans yet. It was better to get to the crevasse first and then declare her real intentions. Hopefully he wouldn’t be livid.
Oliver opened the door for her, and she pulled her sunglasses into position and walked ahead of him. Halfway toward the chopper, a premonition of impending death hit her like an avalanche. Her knees nearly buckled at the severity of the thought. She turned to Oliver, and his giant grin brought her right back to her final moments with Milton. Moments when she was terrified and Milton was loving every minute. But unlike last time, she had no intention of hiding her ominous feelings.
She went to pull Oliver aside, but she was too late.
Chancy waved them over. “Good, you’re early. Give me a hand.” As she watched Chancy and Oliver manipulate the supplies and equipment into the chopper’s small luggage hold and utility basket, layers of dread stacked in her mind.
At the sound of steps, she turned to see Regi and Pope walking toward them. Regi looked like an excited teenager, and she recalled the same boyish enthusiasm on Kane in his final hour too. Pope, on the other hand, had a scowl that drilled his eyebrows together and pulled his lips to a thin line. Holly contemplated that he looked to be there under duress, but then, as she watched his brutish stance and clenched fists, she’d couldn’t fathom how anyone could have control over a man like him.
Before she had a chance to get in Oliver’s ear she was asked to climb up and sit by the window in the back seat. Chancy seated them according to weight, and fortunately Oliver was positioned beside her. Pope was to Oliver’s left, and Regi sat next to him at the other window. With all of them in their padded ski gear, it was incredibly tight. And hot. When sweat dribbled down her back, Holly was grateful she was wearing the best wicking underclothing money could buy.
Holly frowned when Chancy took the front passenger seat, until moments later Miranda climbed into the pilot’s chair.
“What the hell’re you doin’?” Pope’s gruff voice boomed about the cramped space.
Chancy turned with a wry smile. “Miranda’s our pilot.”
“Thought you were the pilot.”
“Can’t be both pilot and guide. Someone’s gotta fly the chopper back.” Chancy’s grin confirmed he was amused by Pope’s discomfort.
Miranda didn’t acknowledge Pope’s comment; instead, she flicked a series of switches that triggered the rotors into motion. As they increased in speed, she pulled her headphones into position. “Can you all hear me?”
“Yes,” Holly said, and a series of affirmations confirmed they were all in communication with each other.
Holly watched Miranda toggle the gear stick, and moments later they were airborne. Oliver reached for her hand, and when their fingers entwined she squeezed so tight her knuckles hurt.
The higher they went, the more snow there was, and the less there was of anything else. Vegetation disappeared altogether, and only the odd rock marred the whiteout.
It was about thirty minutes before she spied the shark fin-shaped mountain in the distance. The sun glinted off the whiskey-colored rock as if winking at her. With each mile they flew closer, the fin grew wider and higher, casting a triangular shadow over the snowcapped western ridge.
Miranda guided the chopper over the looming shadow beneath the jagged peak, and when Holly heard a change in gear she realized they were descending.
“Here we are.” Miranda confirmed Holly’s assumption.
But the angle of the terrain meant Miranda couldn’t actually land; instead, she positioned the craft so the nose aimed into the slope and maintained the skids about two feet off the ground. Chancy jumped out and came around to the side to instruct them on disembarking one by one. The last thing Miranda needed was for the chopper’s weight to shift too quickly.
Once they were all out, while Chancy and Oliver worked together to remove all the equipment, Holly fitted her helmet into place. Approximately three minutes after disembarking, Miranda lifted the chopper again and Holly shielded her eyes from the glare to watch its departure. When she turned back to the others, she spied the twin pillars she’d seen all those years ago in the distance. If her memory served her right, it meant they were much closer to the crevasse than Chancy had indicated.
Under Chancy’s instruction, they put their crampons on and each took their own pack. The remaining supplies of food and equipment, such as ropes and ice axes, were heaped onto the sled.
Chancy roped the group together, keeping a distance of about
twenty feet between each of them: Holly at the front, then Oliver, Regi, and Pope at the end. He then strapped the sled to his waist, and without any fanfare Chancy set off toward the towering columns. Determined to keep as close to him as possible, Holly jumped in behind and kept pace.
The snow beneath her boots was about ten inches deep, much deeper than what they’d practiced in during their mountaineering course, and it was an effort to place every step. Surrounding silence hung thickly in the crisp still air, interrupted only by her breathing and the crunching of snow beneath her boots. The sky was as pure and blue as she’d ever seen, and the morning sun reflected like thousands of crystals in the frozen blanket around them. Without her sunglasses, the glare would have been excruciating. Not one cloud was visible, which was saying something, because Holly estimated she could see for hundreds of miles.
She lifted her eyes to the distance. Snow capped the ridges like the fluffiest meringue. Ahead of her, Chancy seemed to be aiming directly toward the double pillars. It was the same direction their helicopter had taken all those years ago, and, if her memory was correct, the moment they crossed that threshold they were in for a dramatic change of weather conditions.
“You okay, Holly?” She smiled at Oliver’s continual use of her true name. It must be hard for him to remember to call her that.
“I’m fine. You?”
“Great. This’s magnificent.”
It was true. The vista was truly glorious. Mist swamped the valleys below, giving her the impression she was walking in heaven. Whiskey Mountain lived up to its name, shimmering like copper in the morning sun. As they approached the pillars, she spied tendrils of silvery mist trailing from the exposed rock. It confirmed her fear that once they crossed over they would experience a whole new side of the mountain, literally.
Chancy stopped ahead of her, and when Holly checked her watch she was surprised that they’d been walking for an hour. Once they were bunched up again, Chancy instructed them to rest for ten minutes.
Oliver stepped in alongside Holly and placed his arm across her shoulder. “This’s awesome.”
Out of Mind Page 21