On Thin Ice

by Cherry Adair

  "Like I said, fuck you, Wright."

  "No." Derek threw the KaBar in a gleaming arc. Seven inches of partially serrated, tool steel, clip point blade with epoxy coat and blood groove sank into Barber's throat right up to its carbon steel guard. "Fuck you."

  Lily heard the throb of a snowmobile approaching through the tree line above camp. Grabbing her rifle, she climbed the small outcropping of rocks and laid down flat to watch its approach. Just be-cause she wasn't planning on shooting the next pair of eye whites she spied didn't mean she wasn't ready.

  Lifting the rifle to her shoulder, she peered through the scope crosshairs for a better look. Damn it. The glass was shattered. Must've happened in the fall.

  She watched the dark speck get larger and larger as the vehicle approached, weaving expertly through the swaying trees. Snow flurries made visibility difficult. Now she saw him. Now she didn't. Frustrating. Maddening.

  Friend?

  Foe?

  It was barely dawn. Possible, but unlikely the rider was part of the Iditarod's auxiliary volunteer team. If it was one of the crew, he'd be on the marked trail, not high up above the tree line. Besides, no one would be traveling between checkpoints at this time of the morning. He'd be there already.

  No. This wasn't anyone involved with the race.

  The question was, was this the shooter, or someone else? She flattened herself on the rock to wait until he was closer.

  Where the hell was Lily? Derek thought as he came down the hill on the Polaris and saw the camp up ahead. The fire glowed against the shadowy gray of densely falling snow. Tent down. Dogs agitated and barking. His eyes scanned the area. No sign of her. He suddenly realized the head mic was stuffed in his pocket. Damn. Not smart. By the time he got the thing out and installed it in his ear, he'd be in camp.

  Had the bastard had yet another accomplice? He shifted the throttle and aimed for the center of the clearing, his brain filled with images too hideous to imagine.

  Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

  The dogs were barking like crazy. Lily watched the snowmobile approach, heart in her mouth. It crested the hill and made straight for camp without slowing down. Lifting the rifle, she tried to take a shot. Just a little warning, which Derek, wherever he was, would hear.

  The rifle snicked.

  Oh, hell. Jammed.

  With relief, Derek saw Lily perched on the rocks above camp. Clever girl. If she wasn't sure of his identity she would've fired off at least a warning shot. But she waved the rifle to acknowledge him. Thank God, she was okay. He lifted his arm in a wave, bounced on a knoll, and had to grip the bars with both hands and concentrate on slowing the vehicle down.

  As the snowmobile whizzed closer, Lily tried to see the face of the man rapidly approaching. She couldn't identify him. The coat he wore was similar to those worn by dozens of the men on the trail, including Derek. His face was covered by a hat, goggles and scarf.

  Suddenly he was too close for a warning shot anyway.

  Lily swung the rifle like a club.

  The man tumbled off the machine, falling like a rock. The snowmobile kept going. Down the hill, bump, bump, bump, and then skated with a hideous screech across the river on its side.

  Lily jumped down off her low perch and ran over to where the man lay on his back.

  He wasn't moving, but she approached with caution, rifle raised so she could give him another solid whack if he looked dangerous and tried to move.

  Oh, hell… "Derek?"

  His eyes were closed, his face dead white. But it was the bright red blood welling from the cut over his eye that made Lily drop to her knees in the snow beside him. "Oh my God, Derek. I'm so sorry. Wake up. Please, wake up."

  He was out cold. "Wake up and yell at me, would you?"

  After a few minutes she realized he wasn't going to be chatting with her anytime soon. Lily ran back to camp and unharnessed Arrow and Melba.

  With the help of the dogs, she managed to roll Derek's long body onto a tarp, and then the three of them dragged him back to the fire.

  Sweating, she rummaged around in Derek's gear for a first aid kit and the sleeping bag roll she'd just packed. Damn it. She wished the tent were still up as snow blew wildly around them.

  She unzipped the bag. With much huffing and puffing and cursing, she eventually rolled all two hundred pounds of solid muscle onto the bag, and then zipped it to his chin.

  He still hadn't moved. Not good.

  She carefully removed his shattered goggles and winced at the sight of his face. Fortunately the bleeding had almost stopped. But his eyebrow and eyelid were already discoloring and swelling. He was going to have one hell of a shiner, and a monstrous headache, Lily thought, feeling sick to her stomach as she cleaned the wound and then got out a butterfly bandage.

  She heard a soft buzzing sound and paused to listen, heart in her throat. What—

  Band-Aid stuck on the tip of her finger, she looked around, searching for the cause of the incongruous sound.

  A phone? Out here? No way. It buzzed again.

  She looked down at her patient. Reaching inside the bag, she patted him down until her fingers encountered a small black phone in Derek's top pocket. "Well, I'll be d—"

  biiiizzz.

  "Hello?"

  Silence. Then, "Who the hell is this?"

  "Dr. Lily Munroe."

  "Put Wright on."

  "He's, ah, sleeping. Can I take a message?"

  "Wake him."

  "I'm sorry. As much as I'd like to, I can't. Leave a message and I'll te—"

  "Is he alive?"

  "Yes. God, yes."

  "Then wake him the hell up. This is an emergency."

  An emergency? Hell. Is everyone having emergencies these days? "He's unconscious," Lily told him flatly.

  "Uncon—What happened?"

  "I hit him rather hard."

  "You hit him?"

  "Yes," Lily told the anonymous man with asperity. "I hit him. Hard enough to knock him out cold. Would you like to hear the gory details, or do you want to leave him a message, which he'll receive as soon as he wakes up?"

  "Wake him now," the man told her urgently. "Even if you have to dunk his dumb ass in the snow. Get him conscious and on his feet, pronto. Then have him call me. You've got two minutes." He clicked out. He didn't bother telling her who to say called.

  Hey, Derek? A guy just called, said it was an emergency. Call him right back. Who? I have no clue. About what? Ditto. Lily shook her head. She frowned as she put the phone down on the bag by Derek's head.

  Probably his stockbroker. Yeah. Microsoft or IBM dropping a few points was cause enough to call Derek in the wilds of Alaska in the middle of a race. It would be nice if Lily even remotely believed her own interpretation of the call.

  "Why don't I believe that for a minute?" she asked aloud. "I feel as though I've fallen down the damn rabbit hole."

  She checked his wound. Still seeping. Lily used another disinfected swab, then closed the gash with several butterfly bandages. He'd have a scar there to remind him of today. But knowing Derek, it would look rakish rather than gruesome. "It won't spoil your looks a bit, cowboy. But you're probably going to be a little cranky with me when you wake up. So what's new?"

  "Jesus. What hit me?" Derek grumbled, raising a hand to feel his forehead. Lily grabbed his fingers before he could poke at the wound.

  "Unfortunately, I did." She checked his pupils. "God, I'm sorry. You were on the snowmobile, and coming so fast—"

  " 'S okay. Would've done the same thing. What in God's name did you hit me with? A two-by-four?"

  "The stock of my rifle. Why are you sitting up? You probably have a concussion."

  "I don't."

  "I'm the doctor," she told him firmly, taking his face between her hands. "Look into my eyes."

  "Beautiful."

  His pupils looked normal. But she'd keep an eye on him for several hours anyway. Not hard to do. He was easy on the eyes, this lover of hers. "You're delirio
us."

  "And that makes you smile?"

  "The fact that I didn't break open your head like a melon is cause for celebration," Lily told him, leaning forward to give him a brief peck on the lips. "Lie down, I'll get water for you to take some aspiri—" The phone buzzed.

  Derek patted his chest pocket. She pointed to the phone on the sleeping bag. He ran his hand over the creases searching for it, then picked it up and barked, "What?"

  "Feel the warmth. Nice of you to join the land of the living," Darius said sarcastically. "I'm filled with confidence that you, and you alone, are now responsible for getting the bad guys and saving the world. Especially knowing you were flattened and vanquished by a girl."

  "I've got a headache, and I already have my own pain in the ass right here." Derek grinned at Lily and touched her cheek. "Do you have a point?"

  "How bad's the head?"

  "Since I just woke up, I'm not sure yet, but I'm anticipating a lollapalooza of a headache. Thanks for asking."

  "Be sure," Darius said, all humor gone. "Because you're the only game in town, and we are seriously in the crapper here. I have good news and bad news."

  Darius's pause had Derek's full attention. "Start with the good news," he told him dryly, taking the ibuprofen Lily handed him and chugging it down with water. "I could use some."

  She frowned and mouthed silently, "What's going on? Is it about your dad's wedding?"

  He'd almost forgotten his father was getting married at his place in a couple of weeks. He frowned and shook his head, which caused his vision to dance. Then made a hand gesture, silently asking for a cup of coffee. The pot steamed gently several yards away on the fire.

  Lily grumbled a bit at having her question ignored, but went off to get the coffee. The view of her spectacular ass would've been much better if Derek could have observed it through both eyes. Unfortunately his left eye was not only throbbing annoyingly, it was swollen shut.

  "Sat pictures indicate large vessels where they shouldn't be on Norton Sound," Darius told him. "And in case you didn't study your geography before your trip, like a good little Eagle Scout, the sound would be the big blue blob on the left of your trusty map, indicating an inlet off the Bering Sea. The location of our fan for the shit to hit, as it were, is north latitude sixty-four degrees, west longitude one hundred sixty-three degrees.

  "Nome, the place you were heading eventually anyway, is on the north shore and the Yukon River flows into the sound from the south. Following me so far?"

  "Loud and clear." Thanks, he mouthed to Lily, who'd brought two mugs back with her, handed one to him and then folded her long legs tailor fashion to sit on the foot of the sleeping bag.

  Since she looked so damn cute sitting there, a scowl between her pretty eyes, he blew her a kiss. The frown eased a little and she reluctantly smiled back.

  "Is a geography lesson my good news?" he asked Dare. "I was much better at biology."

  "I'm sure you were. No. The good news is those coordinates are our target."

  "North latitude sixty-four degrees, west longitude one hundred sixty-three degrees. Got it. And our friends are doing what to whom?"

  "Our friends are planning to detonate a dirty bomb. A very large, very dirty bomb. Which will not only seriously compromise the river and inlet, but will effectively take out Uncle Sam's ultrasecret DEW installation south of Nome. Not that we know anything about a top-secret facility there, but if we did—which we don't—it would be toast."

  "As would the people living there," Derek pointed out reasonably. "Doesn't sound like terribly good news to me."

  "Hell, Derek, the good news is we've got the intel. The bad news is a front has moved in," Darius continued. "Impossible to mobilize aircraft for the next twelve to sixteen hours. You, my fine dog-loving friend, are it."

  "Jesus." A prayer.

  Sixteen

  Lily had absolutely no idea who Derek was talking to, but he looked grim, his mouth taut as he listened and responded. She was done being mystified by the calls. Now she wanted answers. Real answers.

  She winced as he touched a finger to the side of his face, distracting her for a moment from the mysterious conversation. Oh, God, she'd hit him. Just because it was unintentional didn't make her feel any better. Her stomach hurt just looking at his poor face. His left eye was completely swollen shut, and his face was black and blue, not to mention several other painful colors, from his eyebrow to his cheekbone.

  Feeling absolutely horrible, she pulled the clean sock that she'd dug out of her bag out of her pocket, set her steaming mug down and filled the heavy wool with snow.

  "Have arrangements made for my cargo pickup at the next checkpoint," Derek demanded, then paused to listen. "The most precious cargo I've ever ordered transported. Pack and ship accordingly." Derek closed his eyes—eye—in pain.

  "Shit. That's right. No flights of any kind… Yeah. Yeah. I do." Pause. Frown. Glare. "I know you will."

  Lily handed him the snow-filled sock. He stared at it as though he'd never seen a sock before. She held it up to her face. He ignored her.

  She refused to be ignored. Leaning in close, she laid the freezing sock alongside his face and Derek hissed in a breath as he instinctively tried to escape her. She moved with him, holding the ice pack firmly in place.

  Shooting her a glare, he asked, "Do we have an educated guess when our friend's little party is scheduled to start?" He tilted his mug, tossing scalding coffee down his throat as if it were an antidote to the ice nestled close to his face.

  "Of course they will," he said sarcastically, glancing at his watch, having to angle his wrist to see it properly with his good eye. "I'll keep in touch. Let me know when there's someone there to make my pickup, and my merchandise is secure. And Dare? This request is nonnegotiable." Once he clicked the phone off, he tried again to dodge the snow sock.

  "Don't be such a wuss," Lily chided. "Keep this on your face or your eye will swell closed permanently."

  "You're a vet, not a people doctor," he reminded her, apparently feeling as surly as he looked.

  "Fortunate," she quipped, "since you're acting like an ass."

  "Stubborn, aren't you?"

  "Hello, have we met? I'm Lily." She motioned toward the phone. "What was that all about?"

  Derek rose and held out a hand to pull her to her feet, even as he clapped the snow sock to his face with the other. "We've got to get cracking. This storm's moving in faster than anticipated. They're predicting snow, gale force winds, all followed by a severe ice storm."

  "Don't worry about it," Lily said with more confidence than she really felt. "We're well equipped for that kind of weather." While they had all the dogs, her sled was toast. She was rapidly reaching the point where if she didn't sleep soon she'd slip into a coma of exhaustion, and Derek was swaying on his feet and had a pretty serious head injury. Things weren't looking good right now.

  This big storm was going to complicate the next leg of the trip.

  "Trust me," he said tightly. "It's a bad one."

  The lover was gone, and in his place stood a grim stranger Lily almost didn't recognize. He dropped her hand and turned to the fire, which he proceeded to cover with snow. The flames fizzled and died, then gently steamed.

  What wasn't he telling her? "Okay, ice storm. What else?"

  "Nothing."

  The dogs, sensing something, milled around looking worried. Dingbat huffed anxiously and Lily went over to rub his ears. "It's okay, baby." Still squatting beside the dog, she looked up at Derek. "Talk to me. What's really going on?"

  The wind started picking up, swirling small flurries around their feet. Derek scrubbed his battered face with one hand. "I want you to continue on to Nikolai on your own."

  Lily tried to read his expression, but it was like trying to read a closed book with a blank dustcover on it. She had exactly the same sensation in her chest now as she'd had that night on her honeymoon when Sean said he was going down to the bar for one drink while she primped fo
r a romantic dinner in their suite: a hard, taut band of foreboding squeezing across her chest. Dingbat nudged her cheek with his icy nose. She kept her eyes on Derek. "Why?"

  "Would it be possible for you to just do what I ask without asking questions?"

  "Yes. I'm sure the time will come. But this isn't it."

  "Lily—"

  "Something's wrong. Don't shut me out. I know. I know," she said quickly when he gave her a one-eyed glare. "I can see you're in a hell of a hurry. Tell me quickly so we can be on our way."

  He paused long enough for her to think he was going to blow her off, then said quietly, "I was going to tell you this anyway. But this was neither the time nor the place I would've chose—"

  "Yeah, yeah. Fine. What?" Lily said impatiently, getting to her feet and trying not to wince at his poor prizefighter face. She wondered briefly what she'd do if he told her he was a serial killer, wanted in fifty states. Or a bigamist—

  "I work for an organization called T-FLAC," he told her, watching her face intently. "It's a privately funded black ops anti-terrorist group."

  It took her brain a couple of seconds for it to compute. "Are you telling me you're a… spy?"

  "Anti-terrorist operative."

  "Holy crap." She shook her head as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

  "Lily, I wanted to ex—"

  She cut him off. "That is so cool."

  Surprised, Derek just stared at her. "You think it's—cool?"

  "Hell, yeah. Don't you?"

  "Actually, yeah. I do." His smile was a bit lopsided because of the swelling. "Whoa." He put up a hand as she opened her mouth. "I can see the questions bubbling over. I'll tell you what I can about my job—when we get back home, okay? Right now I've got to haul ass."

  "You're on a mission now?"

  "Right now."

  "Wow."

  "We gotta move."