by Seton, Cora
“I’m glad to hear it.” He took her phone and held it while he tapped on his own. “I’d like those numbers as well. In case you lose or destroy your phone.”
His crooked grin made her smile. Mitchell clapped her hands together, feeling a little better knowing they wouldn’t be alone. “Let’s get this vacation underway with a hearty meal.”
They ate lunch in the resort restaurant, and then made their way to the rental shop where they spent the next hour being fitted for skis, boots, poles, and helmets. By the time they were completely outfitted, the time was past two in the afternoon.
“The ski lifts stay open until four-thirty. Purchasing a lift ticket this late in the day isn’t worth the cost,” Mitchell said, hoping Remy wouldn’t be too disappointed. “However, if you want to go for two hours, it’s up to you. I’m game for anything.”
“I figured we’d hang out at the resort, maybe take advantage of the heated pool and hot tub, and then have a nice dinner in the village.”
“Sounds good to me. I’d like to duck into a few shops while we’re in the village. I need a new pair of gloves that aren’t neon green, and a set of hand warmers for when we are on the slopes tomorrow.” Plus, she had yet to get that present she so desperately wanted for him.
“Let’s store this gear in the lockers and hit the pool. I could use a workout.”
With a plan in mind, they stored their skis and went up to their room to change into swimsuits.
In the elevator, Remy hit the button for the lobby level. “I want to check with the front desk and make sure we’re okay for the duration of our stay in Vail.”
“Sounds good,” Mitchell said. “While we’re at it, let’s see if they’ll let us look over the security video. If Rocco’s people are following me, they might be here.”
“Good idea.”
At the desk, Mitchell flashed her NCIS credentials and asked to see the names of the people who’d checked in the night before, up to four hours before they’d taken the last room. She claimed to be on a surveillance case. No use telling the clerk a killer might be in the area when Mitchell wasn’t sure of anything, at that point. She hoped her Denver Field Office counterpart didn’t flash his badge here, as well. Two feds seemingly operating separately would draw too much attention.
None of the names the hotel clerk showed her rang a bell or looked out of the ordinary. A couple by the name of Woolsey had taken the second to the last room right before Mitchell and Remy arrived.
“Could we see the security video from last night?” Mitchell asked.
The clerk didn’t argue, showing her and Remy to the room where a security guard in a resort uniform monitored twelve screens, alternating between different views of the resort elevators, entryway, and individual floors.
“Let’s look at the entrance between eight p.m. and midnight,” Mitchell directed.
The security guard brought up a screen to the earliest time and fast-forwarded the video at a pace that would allow them to see who was coming and going. A clump of young people crowded the lobby, carrying backpacks, suitcases and pillows.
“That’s the school group from England,” the guard commented.
A variety of men and women moved through the lobby. Some carrying skis, others toting suitcases. When they got to the hour before Mitchell and Remy’s arrival, a couple was seen checking in at the desk.
“The Woolseys?” Mitchell guessed.
Remy nodded. “Perhaps.”
The couple turned so that Mitchell and Remy could get a good look at their faces.
“Not a threat,” Mitchell muttered. The couple was smiling, and appeared to be in their late sixties or early seventies. They rolled large suitcases behind them and looked like any couple coming to a resort to ski, not kill.
None of the people that had come through the lobby looked sinister or suspicious.
With no more useful information than they’d started with, Mitchell and Remy thanked the guard and headed for the pool.
“I feel like I’m being paranoid.” Mitchell paused at the door leading to the outdoor heated pool and stared at the steam rising off the water. Snowflakes drifted through the air, landing on the heated concrete deck and immediately melting.
“With someone like Rocco threatening you, it pays to be a little paranoid.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want him to spoil our vacation.”
“Excuse me, miss.” A young teenager with pale skin and a shock of red hair squeezed past her and Remy.
Mitchell stepped to the side and a flood of teens raced past, laughing and jostling each other in their hurry to get to the hot tub.
With a smile, Mitchell took Remy’s hand. “Come on, let’s get in that workout. Maybe by the time we’ve finished our laps, the hot tub will be empty.”
Mitchell hung her towel on a hook near the door and stepped outside. The winter breeze immediately stole her breath away. “Remind me to wear a one piece instead of a bikini.”
“The water will feel good.”
“It had better.” She shot him a teasing grin. “Last one in has to rub the other’s back later.” Mitchell sprinted for the pool and dove into the water, welcoming its warmth.
Remy dove in beside her, and they matched strokes for the first couple of laps. Though a good swimmer, Mitchell couldn’t keep up with Remy. Soon, she slowed, turned over on her back, and let him power on. The man was a machine. A beautiful, sexy hunk of a machine with lovely muscles rippling through the water. He was every girl’s dream boyfriend, and Mitchell knew how lucky she was that he wanted to be with her.
Mitchell transitioned into a breaststroke and completed another lap down and back, and came to a stop, letting her feet touch the bottom in water up to her neck to keep the bite of the wind from chilling her too quickly. A lace of ice formed in her damp hair, but she didn’t mind. Pausing gave her time to think and ogle the man she loved.
Other than her undercover operation as a pole dancer to blow a hole in Rocco’s human trafficking ring, she’d never relied on others to bail her out of a tight situation. Yeah, she was lucky to have Remy. He’d made sure she came out of that action alive. Since then, they’d been tight. Really tight. So tight they’d agreed to live together. But lately, she’d sensed a restlessness in Remy. Ever since he’d gotten back, he’d been antsy, like he couldn’t wait for something more than just a vacation. Some men got restless when they were tired of a situation and wanted to move on.
Mitchell hoped that wasn’t the case with Remy. She prayed they could hold it together for a very long time. Wanting more probably wasn’t fair when neither of them was willing to give up the jobs they loved. And she wasn’t even certain what she meant by “more.” Perhaps she was the one who was antsy and ready for a change. The one thing she knew for sure was that she wasn’t ready to move on.
Remy was so much a part of her life, even when he wasn’t there. Everywhere she went, everything she did or saw reminded her in some way of him. Often she caught herself thinking that he would like this, or he would say that. Too often, she worried what they had wouldn’t be enough for her or him and, because of their jobs, they couldn’t be more to each other.
She would never ask Remy to stop being a SEAL, and he wouldn’t ask her to stop being an NCIS agent. That’s why she’d never considered the ‘M’ word. Marriage was for people who had time to spend together. Those people came home at night after a long day’s work and watched television together, or argued over the remote control.
Mitchell and Remy were happy when they were in the same country, and ecstatic when they were in the same building. They’d go months without seeing each other, unless Remy had a rare opportunity to talk to her on an internet video call from some hell hole in the Middle East or wherever his team happened to be sent.
The man of her thoughts surged out of the water in front of her, lifted her high, and tossed her in the air. She splashed down, went under and surfaced, laughing. “Not fair. I wasn’t ready.”
“You were
looking far too serious. I had to break that train of thought.” He spread his arms wide. “What better way than to dunk you?”
“Two can play that game.” Mitchell ducked beneath the surface and made a grab for his leg.
Remy planted a hand on her head and held her away until she had to surface for breath.
“Don’t think you’re going all caveman on me. I’ll get you soon enough. You have to sleep sometime.”
“Go ahead. Try me.” He raised his hands in surrender, an ornery grin spreading across his face.
Mitchell’s eyes narrowed. “You know I can’t be mad at you for long.” She eased toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his chest. “Especially when you’re all sexy and wet.”
“It’s that Cajun charm. I’m chock-full of it.”
With a snort, Mitchell glanced up at him, her brows rising. “Charm? Not so much. Full of it? Absolutely.” She hooked her leg around his calf and shoved hard on his chest, pushing him backward into the water.
He went under, but before Mitchell could congratulate herself on the sneak attack, he gripped her arms and took her with him.
With a quick breath, she went under and twisted her body against his, wishing they had the pool to themselves, instead of sharing it with the half-dozen teens that had spilled over from the hot tub.
Floating beneath the surface, Remy captured Mitchell’s face in his hands and kissed her.
She twined her legs around his, and they drifted to the bottom of the pool. Seconds later, Remy pushed them to the surface and held her close. If she could have frozen that moment in time, she would have. She’d never felt more secure and cherished as she did standing in the warm water, the frigid air turning her hair to ice.
A wicked wind blew gritty snow against her skin, causing Mitchell to shiver.
Remy bent his knees, urging her to sink low in the water. “Duck down out of the wind, babe. Can’t have you turning into a popsicle.”
Mitchell bent her knees, submerging everything but her head. That sensation of something besides snow crawled across her skin. The same feeling she’d gotten on the airplane, and in the Atlanta airport, made her body tense. She glanced toward the building, straining to see into the shadows beneath the eaves. Either someone was watching them, or the paranoia had returned with a vengeance. A pause in the shouts and chatter from the teens gave her too much time to imagine the worst, when nothing had happened but a phone call that could have been placed from halfway across the country.
But how could Rocco have known their cabin had burned, and they had been forced to find this particular alternate lodging for the night?
“You’re frowning again.” Remy captured her cheeks between his palms. “I’m starting to get a complex.”
Glad for the subject change, she swatted at his arm. “That’ll be the day. You’re so damned cocksure, the only complex you’d have is a hang-up on yourself.”
He laid his hand across his heart, his expression serious. “You wound me, Sanders.”
“Why don’t I believe that?” She patted his cheek and winked.
“You know me too well.” Remy grinned.
“Damn right, I do.” And she hoped no other woman would ever know him as well.
He caught her hand beneath the water and raised it to his lips. “Ready for that hot tub?”
“You bet.” She got out of the pool and let the icy air chill her body for a moment.
Remy climbed the steps and stood beside her. “Feels good.”
“For about two-and-a-half seconds.” A bone-shaking shiver shook her frame. “I’m getting in.” She glanced at the hot tub full of teens splashing water at each other. “Or should we head back to the room?”
“Hit the tub. I might go find a vending machine and get us some bottled water.”
“That would be great.”
“Will you be okay while I’m gone?”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” She glanced at the pool teeming with young people. “And I’ll have plenty of company.”
Remy’s eyes narrowed.
Mitchell laughed and touched his arm. “You don’t think they’re out to get me, do you?”
“No,” he said.
His expression didn’t display confidence at that answer. “Look, babe, I know what Rocco looks like. If I see him, I’ll go the other way and notify the police.”
Remy laid his hand over hers. “Yeah, but you don’t know if he’s sent someone else to do his dirty work.”
“I’ll trust my instincts. I’m usually a pretty good judge of body language.” Mitchell stared again at the hot tub full of a dozen teenaged boys, glad they were there, if for nothing but the company while Remy was gone for a few minutes. “I’ll be fine.”
Remy hesitated a moment longer, and then sighed. “I’ll be right back with water.”
He waited until Mitchell slid into the steaming tub before he headed into the building.
No sooner had Remy disappeared than a woman poked her head out the door. “Are all of you eating dinner tonight? If so, you have fifteen minutes to shower and dress.”
Like a plug had been pulled, the hot tub drained of teens, leaving Mitchell completely alone for the first time that day. She craned her neck to see into the glass door of the building, feeling more than a little exposed.
A cloud chose that moment to obliterate the setting sun and the rays that had teased her into thinking the air was warmer than the actual twenty-five-degree temperature with an even lower wind chill factor.
Then a couple emerged from the building.
Mitchell recognized them as the Woolseys from the video. They appeared to be a nice older couple helping each out over the cold ground to the hot tub.
The woman smiled. “Do you mind if we join you?”
“Not at all.” Mitchell moved away from the steps, allowing them easy access into the small pool.
As they settled into the steaming, bubbly water, the door opened again.
Mitchell glanced toward it, hoping to see Remy, but was disappointed when a big man emerged, wearing a pair of cargo shorts, instead of a swimsuit, and carrying a towel.
He glanced toward the pool for a second and then crossed the heated concrete to the hot tub, slipping in, still holding the towel in his hand, above the water.
A tingling awareness rippled across Mitchell’s skin, like being overly sensitive to the feathery soft brush of a spider web against her hair. She considered getting out of the tub and going into the building in search of Remy.
“Have you been in Vail long?” Mrs. Woolsey smiled.
The polite question forced Mitchell to engage in conversation she really had no desire to conduct. “Got in late last night,” Mitchell said, her words clipped.
“Oh, really? So did we.” She glanced at her husband. “George doesn’t like to make reservations in advance. We came out from Denver after he got off work, hoping we’d find a cancellation. We went to two other places before we found a room.” Shaking her head, she laughed. “I thought we’d have to sleep in the car, or drive all the way back to Denver.”
“Glad you found a room,” Mitchell said politely.
“Me, too. The clerk said it was one of the last two available.” She smiled at her husband. “I’m just glad we didn’t have to sleep in the car, right, George?”
“Right, dear.”
Mitchell pretended to be engaged in the Woolsey conversation, while she kept watch through her peripheral vision on the man who carried the towel so carefully. He laid it on the edge of the big hot tub and leaned back, his gaze landing on her and narrowing.
He had heavy, dark brows, and brown-black eyes, a thick five-o’clock shadow across his chin, and a barrel chest like a defensive lineman on a football team. A python tattoo wrapped around one of his massive biceps in black and red ink.
Mitchell wouldn’t consider him handsome, with his bar-bouncer scowl and thin lips. She’d feel a lot better when Remy returned. If he wasn
’t back in another minute, she was heading to the room where she’d left her gun. It was kind of hard to hide a Glock in her bikini, or she’d have brought it with her. The man with the tattoo reached for his towel, and Mitchell noticed it had a lump the size of a pistol between its folds.
The man didn’t grab for the towel, he slipped his hand between the folds, instead.
Her heart thumping against her chest, Mitchell surged out of the water.
“Leaving so soon?” Mrs. Woolsey asked.
“I think I left the iron on in my room.” Mitchell scrambled out of the water and up the stairs, her back to the man. She had to get out of range before the man opened fire. If she didn’t, she risked him shooting her and any witnesses, including the Woolseys. Her heart in her throat, her back stiff, anticipating a bullet hitting her square between her shoulder blades, Mitchell bolted for the door.
As she reached for the handle, she spotted Remy stepping through, carrying two bottles of water in one hand. “Mitchell? Are you okay?”
She chopped her hand in the air. “Go back in the building.”
He pushed her behind him and stood into the doorway peering out. “What’s wrong?”
“Just come inside,” she said in an insistent whisper, dragging at his arm.
Remy backed through, and closed the door. Inside, he set the plastic bottles on a table and gripped Mitchell’s arms. “What’s going on?”
She shook free from his hold and eased back to the window looking out over the hot tub. “I think that man with the tattoos in the hot tub might be packing.” She squinted through the glass, keeping as much out of sight of the hot tub as she could.
Remy pulled her back and placed his body in front of hers. “Why do you think that?”
“There’s something under that towel. He was reaching for it when I got out of the pool.”
“He’s reaching for it now,” Remy said, poised for action. “And…it…looks…like a book.”
“Seriously?” Mitchell leaned closer to the glass and squinted.