Lethal Protector

by Kaylea Cross

  He was a lot more worried about the human predators out there.

  Members of his former gang would be hunting him. Looking for any clue that might lead them to him. He’d been careful, but someone might have seen him, and there would be a sizeable, internal reward offered by the gang for killing him and avenging Alex. All it took was one lead, one sighting of him in Rifle Creek earlier that someone reported to the cops, and the gang’s most lethal enforcers would be on his tail.

  The tiny wooden shack appeared through the evergreens up ahead when he rounded the corner of the snow-covered trail. It was built of old timber from the forest, hand-hewn and silver with age, its roof sagging under the weight of another winter snowfall. Some hunter or prospector must have built it more than a hundred years ago. Jason only cared that it was empty, isolated, and that the old, cast-iron potbellied stove still worked.

  There were no other tracks in the snow leading toward or away from the shack. The wooden door creaked when he pushed it open, scraping along the uneven floorboards. Breathing hard, he groaned in relief as he shrugged off the backpack and let it drop with a thud at his feet to look around. Everything was exactly as he’d left it the last time he’d been up here a few days ago.

  It was freezing inside so he put some wood into the stove and lit it, standing close as he surveyed his secret cache in the glow of the flames. Survival gear. Clothing. Food, water and emergency supplies. Enough to get him through another few weeks as he began his trek through the mountains and evade anyone looking for him.

  And enough weapons and ammo to take out anyone stupid enough to try.

  No one would ever find him out here. Not his former gang, and not the cops. All he had to do was make it to the other side of the next peak, and he’d be safely on his way to meet his sister.

  Jason lowered himself to the old, bare floorboards and held his hands toward the flames, deep in thought. He was ready to see this through, prepared to do whatever it took to make it happen. His gaze strayed to one of the stolen rifles propped up in the corner. The one with the high-power scope that would give him an edge over anyone hunting him.

  A sound from outside made him freeze. The sharp call of a white-tailed ptarmigan, followed by the startled flurry of wings. He would have missed it if he hadn’t been so attuned to his surroundings.

  Someone was out there.

  He shot to his feet and grabbed the ballistic vest. As soon as he had it on, he reached for the rifle in the corner, loading a full magazine into it before heading for the door. Pressing his back to the wall beside it, he waited. Listening.

  Moments later, he heard it again. More birds being startled into the air near the shack.

  His heart slammed into his ribs, anger and fear twisting inside him. Someone had come for him. But if they thought he was an easy target, they were wrong.

  Dead wrong.

  Flinging open the door, he rushed through it with the butt of the rifle to his shoulder, his eyes scanning the area near the shack. His peripheral vision caught a flash of movement to his right.

  The sharp crack of a gunshot exploded in the silence, a bullet slamming into the side of the wood siding behind him a split second later.

  He pivoted to face the shooter and fired a burst of two shots, then dropped to one knee.

  Silence.

  His pulse hammered in his ears as he waited, every muscle in his body tense. But there were no more shots. No other movement, or even sounds, just the sighing of the wind and the faint creak of branches overhead.

  Moving cautiously, he got up and crept toward the shooter, ready to fire. He spotted the body lying behind a tree trunk. A man, on his back.

  Jason moved closer, keeping his finger on the trigger. But when he got closer, the man’s sightless eyes were staring up at the swaying treetops, the snow around him rapidly turning red.

  He swallowed, nausea churning in his stomach as he stared down at the dead man’s face. One of the most feared of Alex Kochenko’s lethal enforcers. The man had somehow tracked him all the way up here. Would have killed him, if Jason hadn’t been so alert.

  He glanced around, cold crawling up his spine. Enforcers usually worked alone, but there could be more coming. And when this one didn’t return, someone would follow to find out what had happened. Jason had to get rid of the body.

  Slinging his rifle across his back, he dragged the dead man by the feet through the forest. Deep into the woods where no hiker or hunter was likely to go.

  He covered the body with snow and a pile of branches, then left it for the carnivores and the winter snows would bury it. Before long, there would be nothing but a pile of bones, and by then Jason would be in California with his sister.

  He started back to the shack, rifle at the ready, gaze moving restlessly around the quiet forest. Ready to dole out the exact same fate to anyone else who posed a threat to him.

  Chapter Eight

  Okay, coming up here had been a fantastic idea. And Tala had definitely made the right choice in inviting Braxton to join her.

  “Isn’t it gorgeous out?” She looked up at the patch of brilliant blue sky framed by the tall evergreens surrounding them on either side of the trail they were skiing on. Pure freedom.

  “Sure is,” Braxton agreed as he came up alongside her.

  He’d been quiet since leaving Tate’s place, but that was nothing new. Even so, she sensed some sort of tension coming from him and couldn’t tell what it meant. “Feels good to stretch my legs again.”

  They’d driven Tate’s truck to the Rifle Creek Tactical property, put on their boots and skied out to the trails from the parking lot at the building site. Now the hammering and noise from the power tools was barely audible in the background, replaced by the quiet swish of their skis over the snow in the silent forest.

  “You look pretty comfortable on those,” she told him, admiring his technique. Smooth. Powerful.

  “Had some practice over the years,” he said with another of those sexy half-grins, his lips tugging upward. “Did a lot of it when our unit came out to do mountain warfare training at SilverStar when we first met.”

  The mountain resort about an hour’s drive from Kelowna. “Figures.”

  “Yeah. Until then I’d only done downhill and some snowshoeing.”

  “So what do you think? Which do you like better?”

  He thought about it a second. “Downhill’s more fun. Cross country’s a better workout.”

  “Yeah, it is,” she agreed. It was great to build cardio and endurance, especially at this kind of altitude. “And I’ve got the advantage over you, because my biathlon skis are shorter and stiffer than regular cross country skis.”

  “I’ll try to keep up with you,” he teased.

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “That a challenge?”

  He met her gaze, and she felt an electric thrill race through her. “What if it was?”

  “Then I’d be forced to leave you in the dust.”

  “And I’d make sure I caught you.”

  She almost stumbled on her skis at the sexy way he said it, and the unmistakable heat in his eyes. It was there and gone in an instant, just a brief flash, but it stunned her.

  She jerked her gaze back to look ahead of them while her heart thumped against her ribs. Had she just imagined it? Was she reading something into it that wasn’t really there? Because holy hell, she’d give anything for that interest to be real.

  “Looks like someone beat us up here earlier,” he said.

  She followed his gaze to the right and spotted a set of footprints in the snow. They hugged the trail she and Braxton were skiing on for a few hundred meters, then cut through the trees. “Hunter maybe?”

  “Could be. Or just someone looking to get away from civilization for a while.”

  The tracks disappeared into the trees where the shadows swallowed everything, while the trail ahead of her remained clear. “The others don’t know what they’re missing, huh?” she said to change the subject, still off-
balance about his previous comment and wondering if she was losing it.

  “I like that it’s just the two of us.”

  That made her look over at him again to try and read his expression, but as usual it was neutral, giving nothing away. It was frustrating as hell. Then again, he’d never come out and told her he liked spending time alone with her before.

  Stop with the wishful thinking. You’re going to get hurt. “Me too. Did you ski growing up?”

  “Just on school field trips. My mom’s not an athlete.”

  No, she was an alcoholic. “What about your brother? Did you do any sports with him?”

  “No. He’d already graduated and moved out long before I started getting into any sports in school.”

  She was silent a moment, absorbing that. He never said much about his family, but from the little she’d pieced together, it hadn’t been a happy home, and it didn’t sound like he’d grown up with much support around him. It made her sad to think of him being lonely as a kid. “Do you ever see your dad?”

  He shook his head, his gaze focused on the trail ahead. “Not since he left when I was five, and that’s good with me.”

  “Oh.” She shot him a curious glance, hoping he would continue, but not about to push him. Braxton was the most private person she knew.

  “He’s the one who turned my mom onto the bottle,” he said after a moment. “And she’s always blamed me for him leaving.”

  Ouch. And so fucking messed up, to put that all on an innocent kid. That would be like her blaming Rylee for her sperm donor taking off.

  No wonder he was so quiet and had a tendency to come across as remote. They were protective mechanisms he’d learned young. “We don’t get to pick our families. I’m lucky I was born into a good one, although we’ve gone through our share of dysfunction too.”

  He shot her a curious look. “Yeah, what’s the story with your parents, anyway?”

  One side of her mouth kicked up at his puzzlement. “It’s quite a story. They split up when my mom found out my dad got Tate’s mom pregnant. I was a toddler. My dad married Tate’s mom, but they eventually divorced when Tate was ten, and my parents got back together about a year after that.”

  She shrugged at the surprise on his face, knowing how messed up that must sound. “It all worked out in the long run. Tate and I spent most weekends together with my dad before his mom moved him down here after they divorced, and thankfully my mom never held a grudge against him. She adores him, as you’ve seen.”

  “He’s lucky.”

  “Yeah, but who doesn’t love Tate?” She was eighteen months older, had loved him from the first moment she’d seen him, and his gruff façade was all show. He was a total marshmallow with the people he loved, and she was thrilled that he’d found Nina.

  “Your mom’s an amazing lady.”

  “She sure is. And she’s a lot more forgiving than I am. I love my dad, but if he’d been my husband, I wouldn’t have taken him back. If anyone cheated on me, we’d be done. End of story.”

  “Good to know,” he said thoughtfully, and again she couldn’t tell what to make of it, or what was going on in his head. “What about Rylee’s father? You’ve never said anything about him. Is he still in the picture at all?”

  “No. He took off when he found out I was pregnant and I refused to have an abortion. His family moved him back east somewhere and none of them have made contact since. Rylee knows his name and could look him up if she wanted to. She’s talked about doing it, but she said it’s more of a curiosity thing for her. She’s not interested in having any kind of relationship with him, since he couldn’t be bothered to reach out to her over the past eighteen years.”

  He nodded. “How old were you when you had her?”

  “Sixteen.”

  Man, that had been hard. Looking after a baby while trying to finish high school. When she’d gotten pregnant almost all of her friends had dropped her like she was some kind of pariah. She’d never been ashamed, though. And she’d never regretted keeping Rylee. “I couldn’t have done it without my parents. They’ve been there for me through everything. And of course, I love my kid more than life itself.”

  “She’s a pretty great kid. Takes after her mom.”

  She smiled and glanced over at him, warming at the compliment. This whole conversation so far was longer and deeper than any they’d shared before. “Thanks. I like to think so.”

  “You’re right, though. You are lucky. To have your family.”

  “They’re your family too, Brax.”

  His gaze shot to hers, and something dark and desperate moved in his eyes. As though he secretly yearned for the same connection and bond she had with her family. Her heart squeezed.

  “They are,” she stressed, wanting him to believe it.

  “That’s good.” But the smile he gave her didn’t quite reach his eyes. Had she said something wrong?

  They lapsed into silence after that. At first she was a bit uncomfortable, wondering if she might have inadvertently put her foot in her mouth, but Braxton was quiet most of the time, so she decided not to worry. The uphill section of the trail she’d picked lay ahead. It was long, the steady incline pushing her endurance to its limits.

  “We can slow down,” Braxton said, and she was gratified that he was breathing hard too.

  She shook her head, not wanting to waste precious oxygen by replying, and kept going. By the time they reached the top of the climb and neared their destination, she was tired, but at least her stump wasn’t that sore.

  “Lookout spot should be just up here,” she panted.

  He made an affirmative sound and kept pace with her, but the uphill section had been a challenge for him too.

  The trail ahead curved sharply to the left. Suddenly the trees began to thin out, letting fingers of sunlight pierce between the tall trunks to slant over the snow in front of them. Tala turned left and found herself at the top of a high cliff with a 270-degree panoramic view all around her.

  “Wow,” she said as Braxton came up beside her.

  It looked like a painting. Pure silence surrounded them like a blanket. Rifle Creek cut through the canyon below like a bright, curving ribbon in the midst of the snowy canvas, sunlight glimmering on its surface as it rushed downhill.

  “There’s the building site,” he said, pointing a long arm past her shoulder.

  She followed it and saw the main lodge of Rifle Creek Tactical, the size of a postage stamp in the middle of the cleared section of forest. “Amazing. Lucky we got out to see this today when it’s so clear.” There was a weather front moving in over the next few days and the forecast called for more snow later in the week.

  She glanced up at him. “How do you feel? Was the view worth it?”

  He looked at her, that deep brown gaze sweeping over her face in a way that made her mouth go dry. “Definitely.” She didn’t think he was talking about the natural beauty before them.

  Her heart tripped. Her body was humming, her muscles warm and pleasantly tired. But she didn’t know what the hell to make of the way he was looking at her now, or some of the things he’d said. This was a new side to him she’d never seen before.

  “How’s your leg?”

  That snapped her out of her reverie. “It’s fine. But it can tell I had a good workout.” Even with the extra precautions she’d taken to protect her stump, she’d have to give it a close inspection when she took the prosthetic and sleeve off once she got back to Tate’s. Because she definitely wasn’t doing it in front of Braxton.

  His eyes crinkled at the corners with the hint of a smile, the sun bringing out sable highlights in the few days of inky growth on his face. The admiration and interest in his gaze made her pulse skip. He’d said some flirtatious things, but hadn’t made a move. What would he do if she kissed him right now? Pull away?

  Or pull her close. The possibility made her breath catch.

  “Want to rest a bit before we head back down?” he asked.

 
“No, we should get going.” The sun was already behind the treetops. Wouldn’t be long until the shadows made it hard to see the trail properly. “It’ll be way easier and a lot more fun on the way down, we can just coast most of the way.”

  “If that’s what you want, sure.”

  She couldn’t have what she really wanted, so she’d have to settle for just spending time with him and driving herself crazy. “Yeah, let’s start back.”

  The way down was easy, with only a couple of short uphill sections requiring the use of poles. They didn’t talk much, and he didn’t say anything remotely flirtatious. They made it back to the truck in under half the time it had taken them to reach the lookout point, and by then she was cooled right down.

  From the truck cab, she handed him an insulated thermos of honey-sweetened tea spiced with cinnamon, ginger and cardamom. “Brought you this.”

  “Thanks.” He tipped it back as he took a sip, a quiet moan of pleasure coming from him that she’d love to hear under far more intimate circumstances. With him naked and gripping her hair as she sank down on him or took him in her mouth. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “Right? I always make it for after I train.” She drank some of her own, which was barely warm now.

  He loaded their skis and poles into the bed of the truck while she went to the passenger side to quickly remove her one ski boot and custom prosthetic, swapping it to her everyday one that she’d fitted into her winter boot. When she stood again to put her weight on the prosthetic sleeve to lock it in place, she blinked to find Braxton suddenly there in front of her.

  She stopped, looking up at him, her pulse skipping at the focused look on his face. She couldn’t read his expression but his stare was intense. As if he had something important on his mind that he needed to tell her.

  “Is…everything okay?” she asked slowly.

  He shifted his feet but didn’t answer, and his hesitation worried her.