Chill

by Stephanie Rowe

  Luke cleared his throat, aware Isabella was listening to Ren’s analysis of him. “So, yeah, then what happened?”

  “They left, but I knew they would be back.”

  An inconsistency suddenly clicked in Luke’s mind. “Wait a sec. When did you say this was?”

  “Eight days ago.”

  He lightly squeezed Isabella’s waist. “Isabella? When did you leave Marcus’s?”

  Her forehead was furrowed, and he knew she was making the same connection he was. “Three days ago. The necklace arrived that day and Marcus had me wear it that night for his party.” She sat up slowly, and he supported her as she did so. “So how did they know you were going to be coming here that far ahead?”

  Luke ground his jaw, not liking the thought that had jumped into his head. That it had been arranged. That this whole thing had been manipulated to draw him out. If that were the case…if he’d been exposed…if this was all about him…if Isabella had been used as a pawn to draw him out…“Shit.” If that was the case, had Isabella been an innocent tool, or had she known what she was doing the whole time?

  He eased her back from him so he could watch her face more intently, so he could scrutinize her. “How did you find out where I was?”

  She was concentrating, and he could see the wheels in her mind turning as she tried to sort it out. “Marcus asked me to find you two weeks ago. He told me not to tell anyone or to even use my computer.”

  Luke checked the sky, but the oncoming plane hadn’t come into view yet. He could hear it though, getting louder. “And did he mention I knew about the necklace?”

  “Yes.” She shifted on his lap. “The night of the party.” She was quiet and thoughtful, putting together the pieces. “He asked me if I’d found you, and I said I had.”

  Luke swore. “You were sent after me. It was a setup.”

  She tensed and pulled back so she could see his face. “You think it was all a setup from the start? They wanted me to find you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But why?”

  “Because they think I have the earrings.”

  She stared at him. “Do you?”

  He went rigid at the question. Jesus. Had Isabella been in on it the whole time? Was she part of the plot? It all made so much sense. Once Marcus had realized he was on to the necklace, he’d probably realized he wanted them back, but he would have known Luke wouldn’t cough up the earrings to him. So he’d sent Isabella to work her way under his skin.

  She was already shaking her head. “No, no, it couldn’t be about the earrings. If so, Marcus would have had to fake the kidnapping by Leon, so I would think I had to get your help to save him.”

  Luke tensed. There was no way he’d believe Isabella didn’t think Marcus would set up a fake kidnapping. She might believe in Marcus, but she wasn’t that naive.

  But she wasn’t finished. “I admit, he might set up a fake kidnapping, but he wouldn’t have had Roseann shot. There’s just no way.” She looked up at Luke, and there was anguish in her expression. “Would he, Luke? Would he have a pregnant woman murdered in cold blood just to get me to run to you? I would have done it anyway. She didn’t have to be shot.” Her hand went to her heart. “Oh God, Roseann,” she whispered, and then her voice broke.

  And Luke knew in that moment that he believed in her. She hadn’t come here to expose him. She was doing the best she could to survive. Whatever her role in this was, she was still an innocent.

  He knew it in the core of his soul.

  So he took her into his arms and held her close. He pressed his lips to her hair. “No, babe, I don’t believe Marcus would kill a pregnant woman if he didn’t need to.” And as he said those words, he realized he believed them. Marcus was a lot of things, but he didn’t kill for the sake of it. Marcus was a better man than that. Maybe he’d set up the kidnapping, but Nate and/or Leon had taken it further on their own.

  “Thank you.” Isabella raised her face so she could see him. Tears were glistening in her eyes, but they hadn’t fallen. “Thank you for saying that.”

  “I believe it.” He bent his head and kissed her softly.

  She snuggled deeper against him and kissed him back. It was a gentle kiss, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It wasn’t a kiss of hot passion. It was a kiss of tenderness.

  And it felt damn good.

  Ren cleared his throat, and Luke broke the kiss. God, it felt good to trust her. He hadn’t believed in anyone for a long time. He smiled at her and ran his fingers through her hair. “So, somehow Leon knew you’d be heading here before you even did. Did anyone besides you know where to find me?”

  “No. Marcus didn’t even want to know.”

  Luke had to give Marcus a nod on that one. If Marcus had known, then it was something people could try to leverage out of him. But he was a bastard for storing that information in Isabella and endangering her. “So Leon might have accessed your computer trail, somehow.”

  “He didn’t even ask me. If he wanted to know, wouldn’t that have been his first choice?”

  Luke couldn’t help the shudder that went through him at that suggestion, at what a man like Leon would be willing to do to an innocent like Isabella to get what he wanted. He tightened his grip on her, crushing her against his chest, trying to wipe away the images and memories in his mind. The blood, the carnage, the glazed visage of death…“Fuck.” He pressed his face into her hair, and she wrapped her arms around him, as if she sensed his need.

  She held him like no one had held him in years. And it felt incredible.

  Which was why it was so fucking dangerous for them both.

  With a grim smile, he pulled back. Now was not the time. It would never be the time. Not as long as Adam Fie still ran in his blood. Which meant never. Some ghosts couldn’t be outrun.

  But he’d become damned good at managing them.

  “He didn’t ask you because he didn’t want you to know what he was planning. If you knew, then I would figure it out. The only way for it to work was if you were in the dark.”

  She leaned her head wearily against his chest, and he held her tight. “So why wouldn’t he come after you directly then?”

  “If he’d asked me for those earrings, he wouldn’t have gotten them. But they probably figured I wouldn’t turn you away.” And they’d been right. “So, they set you on a path where I was your only option, and then figured that if you showed up with the necklace, I’d go see Ren, which I did.” Luke eyed Ren’s gun. It was resting on his lap, but it was still pointed at Luke. By accident or intention? “When did they take your grandson?”

  “They came back about four hours ago,” Ren said. “Took Dillon and said he would be returned when I handed you two over.”

  Luke rubbed his face in Isabella’s hair. “Both of us? Did they say I would be with Isabella?”

  Ren nodded. “They wanted both of you.”

  Did they want Luke Webber? Or was the hunt for Adam Fie? Had they made the connection yet between his two identities? He had to know the level of exposure. “Did they mention Adam Fie?”

  Ren shook his head as the small craft bumped over the rough water. “No. Luke Webber.”

  It told Luke nothing. They could have kept his other identity under wraps. “I’m sorry Dillon was put in danger.” And he was. One visit eight years ago had brought this death threat to Ren and his grandson. Yeah, it was possible that Leon had found Ren on his own, but Luke doubted it. Luke had identified Ren while he was still working for Marcus, so Leon had probably just acted on old files and assumed Luke would make contact again.

  Which, of course, he had.

  Luke realized he’d been fooling himself, thinking he could hide out in Alaska and not endanger those he came into contact with. He thought of Cort and Kaylie, and he knew his time in Alaska was up.

  And for the first time since he’d walked out of his life eight years ago, he felt a heaviness in his chest that actually hurt.

  Ren gave him a grim look. “You’r
e different from them, Luke Webber. You have a rare quality. But by coming here today, you brought death back into my life and threatened my grandson. Inside you festers the same poison that drives those men.”

  Luke had no rebuttal. He knew he was poison, and he could already feel it boiling to the surface after so many years of being held in abeyance.

  “For the good in your heart, I gave you a head start from your demons. For the second, I have to let you burn in your own fires.” Ren nodded at the river. “Godspeed on your journey.”

  Luke didn’t have to look at the water to know it would be a death sentence for Isabella. He could probably survive it. Not Isabella, in her weakened state. “I accept responsibility. And I will do my best to fix it.”

  Ren shook his head. “I don’t need your help. I can take care of my own. Our paths split now and will never cross again. Leave us.”

  Isabella stiffened against him, and a plane came into view over the treetops. It was heading straight toward the river. “Take us to shore.” It was a long shot, but if he could make it back to his plane—

  “No. You get out now.” Ren raised his gun and cocked the trigger. “Now.”

  Luke could tell from Ren’s expression that he was prepared to kill. Adam Fie would have accepted those stakes and upped the ante. Despite Ren’s claim that the poison still ran in Luke’s blood, and despite the urge to rip that gun out of Ren’s hands and take over the boat, Luke forced himself to sit still. He could not open that door to Adam Fie. It was too dangerous. “The girl will die if we jump.”

  The plane was overhead now, and Isabella gaped up at it. It was flying low, maybe ten feet above their heads. Close enough for his face to be seen, but Luke didn’t look up. As long as there was a chance he was still only Luke Webber to their pursuers, he wasn’t giving them game.

  Keeping his face hidden in Isabella’s hair, he cradled her against his chest and moved so he was sitting on the side of the boat. “Wrap your legs and arms around me.” He wasn’t going to force Ren to kill a friend.

  Besides, getting a bullet in the chest wasn’t exactly conducive to saving Isabella from the bad guys, was it? Luke always prided himself on keeping the ultimate goal in mind. Such as staying alive.

  A swim in a subarctic steam was crappy, but it was better odds than being shot in the chest at point-blank range, which he knew Ren would do without hesitation.

  “Come on, Isabella. We’re going for a swim.”

  “Dear God, I hope you know what you’re doing.” She plastered herself against his front and he wrapped his arms around her.

  The plane was past them now, and he knew the pilot would have to circle back around to see the boat again. For the next forty-five seconds, they were invisible to their pursuers.

  Now was the moment.

  “Hang tight.” He met the older man’s gaze, and without breaking eye contact, Luke tipped himself and Isabella backward into the river that would kill them within minutes.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The shock of the cold water ripped the breath right out of her. Her muscles went rigid. She couldn’t breathe. She was so cold. Frozen.

  Dying.

  Luke kicked them to the surface and she gasped as her head burst above the surface.

  “Take a breath,” he ordered. “We’re going back under.”

  Isabella didn’t take time to argue. She sucked in what she could, and then Luke pulled them back below the surface. Her arms were so numb she couldn’t even tell whether she was still holding on to him. Her arms were like noodles, her legs useless.

  But Luke’s grip on her was like a vise, his body a shield from the buffeting waters that felt like daggers ripping through her skin. Her lungs were starting to burn. She needed to breathe again.

  Luke shoved them upward, and her head burst out of the water. She gasped, sucking in air. God. So cold. Had to get out.

  “I know, babe. I know. One more time.”

  Luke started to drag them down again, and this time she fought it. She was terrified she wouldn’t come up again.

  “Isa.” Luke’s voice was a reassuring sound in her ear. “You have to trust me right now.”

  With her life? “I can’t,” she gasped.

  “You have no choice.” His ruthless, determined arrogance drilled through her panic.

  She realized he wouldn’t let them die. Not her. Not him. Not yet. I trust you.

  She nodded and stopped fighting. She put herself in his hands and prayed she was right.

  He didn’t reply. Just kept his gaze on hers as he pulled them below the surface again.

  Isabella sucked in a breath and let him take them down into the icy depths for a third time.

  Luke knew he had less than a minute to get Isabella out of the water. Her lips were blue, her eyes were sunken, and she was shaking violently against him.

  Fifty seconds.

  The time clicked off in his mind as he kicked them fiercely through the water, toward the one oasis he’d been able to locate on their first surfacing. The plane had been roaring overhead, but it had been flying low, upstream away from him, as if they hadn’t seen them go over into the river.

  Forty seconds.

  He swam harder, toward the small fishing boat that had been drifting not too far from them. The minute he’d seen it, he’d known it was a better option than trying to reach shore. On shore, they’d be too vulnerable once that plane landed. The boat would keep them moving in the right direction, and its small cabin was large enough to hide them.

  His lungs were starting to strain, and he shot them to the surface so as not to tax Isabella beyond what she could handle. He popped them up. The boat was only a few feet away. “Hey!” he shouted. “Help!”

  No one appeared.

  “Hey!”

  He heard the plane roaring, and he looked over her shoulder. It was banking to circle back. Once they were on the approach, there was no way Luke would be able to get them in the boat without being seen, but Isabella was out of time in the water.

  She was limp in his arms. Her head was on his shoulder. She was utterly still, except for the violent trembling of her body. “You’re not going to die,” he commanded her. “Come on!”

  He broke out toward the boat and launched himself upward. He caught the rail with his hand, but the force of his descent ripped his numb grip right off it. He swore as he fell back toward the water—

  A hand shot over the edge of boat and clamped around his wrist.

  Luke grinned as a weathered face appeared over the edge. Black hair, dark skin, a native Alaskan all the way. A man who was probably in his forties, but carried enough sun and wind in his skin to pass for seventy. “Can we get a ride?”

  The man barked over his shoulder, and another face appeared. A woman this time. Younger, with eyes of natural beauty and grace. She immediately reached out for Isabella, and Luke didn’t hesitate. He didn’t stop to question whether the woman had the strength to help. He simply shifted his weight and then basically threw Isabella upward toward the gal.

  He stayed ready to catch her, but the woman caught Isabella under the arms and dragged her over the rim.

  Luke’s anchor extended his other hand, and Luke latched on to it. Wrist to wrist, a grip tight enough to withstand the pull of the river on his body.

  “On three,” the man said.

  Luke nodded and braced his boots on the side of the boat.

  “One, two, three!”

  Luke shoved himself off the boat upward toward his rescuer. His momentum gave them the leverage they needed, and together they dragged him over the rail. He landed on his face on the boat. His muscles were shaking, but he shoved himself up. The woman was bent over Isabella, already unbuttoning her wet clothes.

  “The plane is after us,” Luke said quickly. “We need to hide.”

  The man and the woman looked skyward at the plane, which was about three seconds from finishing its turn and coming into viewing range again.

  The man ran to the mi
niscule cabin and jerked aside the curtain as Luke lunged for Isabella. He scooped her off the floor and dove into the tiny opening as the plane completed its turn. The man dropped the curtain, throwing them into near darkness, while the roar of the plane filled the air.

  Luke was surprised to discover that the front of the cabin stretched below the deck, making it long enough for them to lie down. He bent his head over Isabella. “Hey, Isa.” He rested his hand on her icy cheek. “Come back to me, hon.”

  He felt like cheering when her eyes flickered open.

  “We’re safe now,” he said. “We need to get the wet clothes off you, okay?”

  “Y-y-y-yeah.” Her teeth were chattering so hard he could hear them knocking as she stared to fumble with her sweatshirt.

  The flap lifted and the woman poked her head inside. “I’m Inite,” she said. “My husband is Roger. You both need to get those clothes off and get dry ones.” She set a pile of thick blankets inside. “There are clothes on that shelf.” She pointed to a plywood board braced above Luke’s head. “Put them on. We will watch the plane. They just flew past and are turning again. We will see if they noticed you come on board.”

  “Th-th-thank y-y-you,” whispered Isabella.

  “This is Isabella, and I’m Luke.” He caught Inite’s hand as she started to pull back. “Thank you.”

  She smiled, a large, genuine smile. “You think we would let you drown?” She was still laughing as she ducked back outside.

  That was Alaska. The land he loved. Where people put survival first.

  Damn it. He was finding a way to stay.

  But first, they were staying alive.

  Which meant the clothes were coming off. Now.

  Isabella couldn’t stop shaking. Her head was pounding. Her fingers throbbed with pain when she tried to grasp the hem of her drenched sweatshirt. “Luke.”